#like please go at your own pace! its always easier to enjoy when the author enjoys writing as well

[thisisnotkitty]

whenever an author is like "sorry it took so long to update/sorry the update is late" im like NOOOOOOO!!! u owe me nothing! how can you be sorry when you've made my day infinitely better??

[chouxsardine]

Hold Me (1)--- Jake Kiszka x reader

My fic for @seenoversundown 's Valentine's Day Writing Event! I choose the prompt: Play Truth or Dare

Summary: "hold me like you hold your Les Paul, have your way with me the way you play her.” || Your drunk slip-up leads to one of the best Valentine's Day gift you've ever got

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3547

Warnings (for this part): 18+! Minors DNI, sexual implications, cursing, alcohol, dom Jake/sub reader, guitar kink, bondage, scissors, inappropriate use of guitar strap, pickle slander

Author's note: Remember I said here about a series of improper guitar use fantasy? Well, here's another one! This idea has been circling in my mind for the longest time. Happy Valentine's Day, Enjoy!

🎧: Dirty Little Religion by Warren Zevon

“Come on, y/n, you have to play by the rules. That’s only fair.”

“Oh gosh, please don’t,” you groaned, banging your forehead on the table, regretting every possible decision you have made in the last two hours.

It was a Friday night, Jake and you were throwing your very own drinking party at home. It started out with some innocent cocktails but has somehow soon turned into chugging down straight tequila. To add to the fun, you proposed an impromptu and very informal round Truth or Dare, which, looking back now, was a very bad idea. Yes, your original intention was to fish out some funny anecdotes from Jake, but woe is you—how the tables have turned. Now, you were the one facing the difficult choice between spilling your dirtiest fantasy or drinking a shot of pickle juice.

That dare was definitely devilish, and Jake was setting it up for you to fail. He knew you absolutely can’t stand pickle juice, especially when it’s that bottom-of-the-jar “essence”— evilly green and murky with all the loosened pulp and seeds floating around. Simply one look at it made you sick.

“Pick your poison, darling,” Jake said, making no effort to hide his smirk.

You tentatively reached for the shot glass but immediately gave in as its smell reached your nose. Why trouble yourself? You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t an arousing tingle inside. Simply the way Jake said the word ‘fantasy’ sounds sexy. Talking about the chokehold this man has on you. It was clear that you were fighting a losing battle. To choose something so ghastly over a little spice in the uncharted territory is just straight-up stupid. Plus, you may or may not have had a bit too much to drink. You felt positive that one simple sip of that pickle juice would make you throw up before the alcohol does.

Sensing the silence, Jake’s demeanour changed. He was more than tipsy, yes, but not to the point that it stops him from being attentive to your feelings and reactions. It was a cute, hot little thing he came up with on the spur of the moment that he thought would be fun. It wasn’t meant to put you on the spot. To make you uncomfortable and ruining the moment is the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have—”

“I’ve always—”

You opened your mouth simultaneously.

Jake took one look at you and shut up immediately. Your cheeks are flushed, your half-lidded eyes were fixed on him with a familiar look. Your left knee that was previously stretched out was now bent against your chest. Oh.

“Go on.” He whispered.

Fuck it.

“I’ve always felt jealous of your guitar, you know that? Especially when you are away on tour. The way you play it on stage, making all those girls scream for you…And that one time you fucking kissed it to make the vibration like that?” You let out a humourless laugh as your eyes narrowed, “it drives me mad.” The way you accentuate “mad” blurs its meaning, and it makes Jake wonder.

“Mad, huh? Which kind? Mad as in crazy, or mad as in angry?”

The drinking game long forgotten now that it has changed into your worship of Jake. You ignored his question completely as you continue. The words coming out much easier and at a faster pace.

“Or the way you slap it, the way you hold its neck and rock it,” all the images and videos you’ve seen are alive in your mind, overlaying with the sight of Jake right before your eyes, “the way you make her whine and scream.”

Jake’s heart skips a bit at the change of pronoun.

“Did you ever get hard while doing that?” You set down the glass on the table, got down on your hands and knees, crawling towards Jake until you were by his feet. “I bet you did. How can you not?” Jake beckoned and you straddled his lap in one swift motion, holding his face. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils dilated. “That’s when I get so jealous and….and insecure.” Jake frowned at that last word. He never thought of that.

“That’s when I wish I was there, waiting for you backstage. I want to kiss you and tell you how amazing you look up there because you deserve it,” with that, you studied Jake’s face intensely through your droopy eyes before defeatedly dropping your head onto his shoulder, your words muffled and slurred,“hell, you have no idea what I want to do to you.”

“I will if you tell me,” Jake tempted.

You pulled back, staring down at him. You caressed his cheek, your fanned breath tickling the loose strands of hair that frame his face. To Jake, you feel like a warm dessert soaked in bourbon; you looked��delicious. It was the same kind of primal desire that shares the same origin with hunger, the wild biological needs fuming. All your shame and self-consciousness unraveled by the alcohol, coming off like a corset with its ribbons pulled.

“I want you to tie me up with your guitar strap,” your eyes closed at how good it felt finally having those words freed from your mind, “I want you to hold me like you hold your Les Paul, have your way with me the way you play her.”

Jake’s jaw hung open. Damn, alcohol does makes people open up. He was not expecting you to say that and was also not expecting himself finding it so incredibly hot. Practically, whiskey dick, but mentally, he was so hard. Before he could come up with a decent response, your head dropped down again, this time with a heavier thud, and he could feel your breathing change.

“Y/n?”

No response.

He was so glad you finished that last sentence before passing out.

That was some weeks ago and you only had vague memories of the night. You knew that you must have spilled some crazy shit because since then, on several occasions, you have caught Jake staring at you. Well, it’s not like he can keep his eyes off you very often, but you can tell this is different. He would have his thumb and index fingers rubbing his chin, looking deep in thought as if composing a riff, except that his eyes are on you, and there is a predatory smugness that keeps you at your feet.

“For fucks sake, Jake. You’re doing it again! Why are you glaring at me like that?” You have tried fishing it out of him more than once.

“Secret” and a wry smile were the answers you got every time.

Luckily, he didn’t keep you waiting for too long; it was only a few days later when you finally get to find out about it.

Neither Jake nor you are the type of people who would go overboard on Valentine’s Day. In the past, it has always been a cute dinner date followed by a night that is both sweet and spicy. You could tell Jake is up to something this time. He’s been dropping subtle (or so he thought) hints throughout the day.

Evening was fast approaching. You opted for staying in and cooking. Jake made an amazing chicken piccata. (He even used heart-shaped pasta!) Dinner was quick and delicious, Warren Zevon’s record was playing in the background as you did the dishes. A pair of arms wraps around your waist as you turn off the faucet. Jake’s curls tickle your skin. He is humming to the song, and it takes you a second to realize that he was humming along with the record to the lyrics of Dirty Little Religion.

“I have a gift for you, sweetheart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, as if his intentions couldn’t be clearer. But who says you aren’t equally (or perhaps more) excited?

“Oh love, you’ve been so good to me all day, how could I ask more from you?” You sound innocent, as if completely unaware of the implications.

“M’not asking. I’m offering. My good girl deserves all my loving.” Jake replies slyly.

Jake calling you good girl will always make you knees go weak. You turn around in his embrace and willingly accept his affectionate kiss on the lips before pulling open the dishwasher. ‘Fine. I’ll just finish up here real quick, okay?”

“Of course, and when you do, come downstairs and find me.”

You quirk your eyebrows. “Downstairs, huh?” It looks like he does has some ideas.

“And you better hurry up, sugar.” He gives you a teasing smack on the butt before turning on his heels.

Downstairs means his studio. Your steps are a bit wobbly as you reach the bottom of the stairs and your fingers shiver as they come into contact with the cool metal of the doorknob. Calm down, y/n, you could be getting all riled up over nothing; knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth, your attempt to calm down sounds pathetic. Throughout your relationship with Jake, the last thing this man ever did was disappoint. And if your nose serves you right, you detect a faint smell of magnolia in the air—the scent that was only reserved for certain occasions. God, what has Jake been planning?

On a second thought, you retrieve your hand from the doorknob, choosing to gently knock three times. A gut feeling tells me that the man of the other side of the door would prefer some manners tonight.

“Come in.”

You push the door open. The room is warm and well-lit, looking the same as usual. Jake is sitting in his Corbusier-style leather chair in the corner, fingers steepling together.

“Hmmmm, a girl with courtesy I see. Very well.” Jake commends.

Bingo. You smile coyly. Your praise kink almost made you curtsy to him.

“Already so good, perhaps I have to find something else to reward you with on top of your gift,” Jake says thoughtfully as he approaches you and pulls you in for a kiss, “but first, my princess deserves to live out her fantasy.”

Fantasy? The way Jake says it gives the word a familiar twang that triggers something in your brain. Your mind is racing as it flips through memories from the past few weeks. Looking around you, most of Jake’s guitars are hanging on the wall instead of resting on the stand. A rather odd thing for him to do. And every guitar on the wall has the strap attached, hanging below them and casting snake-like shadows on the wall.

Then it kicks in. Memories of that Truth or Dare night rushes back to you. Your drunken words replay themselves in your mind, clear and loud: “I want you to tie me up with your guitar strap.”

“Oh, Jake, you didn’t—” Your hands fly up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“Oh, but I do,” Jake laughs, taking your hands in his and thumbing them in soothing circles, “no need to be shy, love. There’s nothing shameful about having desires; it’s a very human thing to do.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I’m so happy that you feel comfortable enough to share it with me,” Jake smile reassuringly, “and I find it hot beyond words.”

Your eyes shot up at him upon hearing it, and Jake’s gaze tells you that he is being honest. Seeing that you’ve relaxed, Jake leads you to stand right in front of his guitar display, his hands resting steadily on your shoulders.

“I’ll let you take your pick, doll. Whichever one that has the honour to have caught your eyes.”

You take a deep breath, feeling like a child in a candy store. This is not the time to get overwhelmed. Your eyes first travel greedily between the guitars, linger over their smooth curves, then you divert to the straps. Jake’s signature ’61 Les Paul SG is standing tall and proud in the middle, paired with the most often seen thin leather strap in back. Moving further right is his SG Classic with the Pinegrove brown padded strap from earlier days, and there’s the black one with the broader shoulder pad which was once used to hold a double-neck but now used on his Coodercaster. You picture them laying over Jake’s shoulder, the way they strain and slacken with his movement, the umbilical cord between his body and his creation. You also imagine the what they would look and feel when wrapped around your waist. The slightly nervous you is inching towards the brown strap—it looks so comforting with its suede texture and its wrinkled surface, and its also wider, therefore leaning towards a cuff rather than a rope when tied; however, the bolder voice obviously prefers the black one—classy, timeless, direct and succinct like a command. It’s thinner, so it might cut into your skin if you are squirming too much (which you definitely will), but isn’t that what you are after? Isn’t that the gist—pleasure mixed with pain?

Jake is being unexpectedly patient, giving you all the time you need to take it in as he resumes his previous position in the chair, admiring your predicament from afar.

“I want that one.” You blurt out finally, pointing at his black strap.

The look on Jake’s face made you suspect that he has known what you’d choose all along.

“Nice choice.” Jake comments, stepping forward to remove the strap from the guitar. You know it’s most likely in your head, but the strap looks different the second that it was detached from the instrument; now wrapped around Jake’s palm, it looks more powerful, it looks like it is determined to serve its intended purpose well for tonight.

“Now go upstairs.”

This time, the command is brusque.

Oh, so the studio is not the final destination. You feel like being on a scavenger’s hunt, following all the clues and getting more snd more excited and impatient by the second. You can’t tell if you are disappointed or relieved that you are not doing…well, whatever Jake intends to do with you…in his studio.

You hands are already touching the door when you heard him again:

“While you are up there, princess, do yourself a favour and strip down to your bra and panties.”

You gasp, but chose not to turn around.

“Yes,” you murmur just loudly enough for him to hear you, “Sir.”

Upstair in your shared bedroom, you do not know how to position your body. You are naked except for your underwear, but the room still seems too hot. You tried laying in bed in a sultry pose—too pretentious, for fuck’s sake, you’ re not shooting porn. You sat down but you kept hugging your knees to yourself—you don’t want Jake to mistake that as reluctance. You are just a bit jittery. God knows how long you’ve been fantasizing this. You tried sitting on the ottoman, but the leather kept sticking to your bum, and it wouldn’t take long before you start sweating and leaving a shame-filled imprint on the seat. You’ve always wanted this, and it’s Jake, there’s nothing to be nervous about, just do what feels best.

Alright, alright.

Following the voice in your heart, you find yourself dropping down to your knees, kneeling on the plush beige rug by the bed. You have your back against the bedroom door. You know it would be impossible for you not to look at Jake’s reaction the moment he see you in this pose, but you are also not sure if you are ready to take that reaction. To you, for now, kneeling feels the most right. For you and Jake, the dom/sub thing in bed is never explicit. Sure, he enjoys you calling him Daddy from time to time and you definitely have got him all whiny and teary for more than once, but this would be the first time that you will be trying restraints. You guess you have always had this fantasy—there’s just something about Jake and his guitar that makes your knees buckle. You are secretly thankful for your drunk slip-up, because you are not sure if you will have the courage to stare into his eyes and say those words sober, even though you know that Jake would never judge you.

The sound of the door opening interrupts your thought. The room is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, and you are holding your breath. Therefore, even without looking, you are positive that Jake hitches his breath when he sees you. You regret a little for facing away from him. Now you want to see his expression.

“Don’t move.” As if reading your mind, Jake orders. You straighten your back. Jake approaches until he is standing right behind you.

“What a good girl.”

Something touches you. You quickly realize Jake is using the bended strap to trace random patterns on your back. You feel the looped end of the strap at your cervical spine before it circles around your scapula, from where it travels down along your spine all the way to your hipbone, dipping a little into the elastic band of your panties. Jake watches the involuntary contraction of your muscles as they react to the touch, feeling satisfied as he sees the fine hairs on the back of your neck slightly perk up.

You just breathed a sigh of relief when you feel the smooth leather again, this time reaching in front and tracing your clavicle. It stops at the little indentation between the bones, right beneath your throat and inches upwards to your chin, tilt it upward, then finding leverage on the left side of your jaw, Using it to turn your head back.

You run straightforward into Jake’s eyes, which are now the colour of melted chocolate. The dark, mesmerizing, 80% cocoa type.

Your pouty lips and puppy eyes are silently begging him for a kiss. Jake indulges, catching your bottom lip between his teeth slightly as his pulls away.

“Already tasting so sweet, angel.”

Aside from the praise, the tenderness in his tone is unvarnished. This is the voice he uses whenever he checks up on you. This is a sign that you are about to have the talk—the sweet conversation with a fraction of awkwardness before you two try out anything new that gives consent and sets up rules and boundaries.

“I…I really want this.” You pre-empt.

“That’s good to hear,” Jake chuckles. Now he has came around, sitting face to face with you. What looks like a wash bag laying beside his knees. What? He has gone and got a bag for this? You wonder what the hell he has got in there.

“I know it’s been a minute, but do you still remember our safe word?”

“Yes. It’s ‘soundcheck’.” You answer, peeling your eyes away from the bag. The safe word was something you two has settled early on in your relationship. Neither of you has been in a position that requires the use of it, but the simple fact that such a word exists and you are comfortable using it when the situations calls for is reassurance for both sides.

“Good. Use it if you need to. Since we are trying something new today, I suggest we add on to it a bit more,” Jake holds your gaze steadily as you nod, “we are going with colours. Green means all good and continue; yellow means pause, say it if you feel like it’s too much, we will take a break, check in, work things out, and you decide if you want to keep going; red is the big ‘no-no’, say it and everything, I mean everything, stops immediately, no question asked. Copy?”

“Yes, green to go, yellow to pause, and red to stop.” You repeat it back, knowing Jake always requires a clear response at this point. This is starting to sound like those naughty romance novels, although you have a secret feeling that what you’re about to experience is going to be so much better.

“Clever girl,” Jake unzips the bag and takes out a pair of scissors, showing them to you, “these are safety shears. I feel like they’re necessary if I am tying you up today. They are medical grade and they cut through everything. Whatever the reason you need out of the restraints, they get you the quick release. ”

He places the scissors in your hands. You hold on to it, finding its curved blade and matte handle consoling. “Now listen up, if it comes to that,” Jake speaks slowly, his index finger tapping your naked skin with each accentuated word, “I will cut the strap. I don’t care how long I’ve had it or how much it costs. They are nothing compared to your safety. Do you hear me, love?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.” You heart melts at how serious he is taking this. You knew he must’ve done his research. The colour system and all. “Thank you, Jake.”

“No need to thank me for keeping you safe, doll,” Jake squeezes your hand gently, “now, are we ready?”

Part 2 out now

Yeah! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated. I've never done a taglist before....does anyone want to be tagged for part 2?

my other works: Permission to Fall | Mariner's Complex | Ticked (all my boxes) | Love is a four-legged word | The Lucky Ones | Coming back to me | Warm Honey | He Would

[sapphicwhxre]

artist

♥︎ pairing: pansy parkinson x fem!reader

♥︎ summary: pansy finds a nude picture of yourself that you painted and forgot about.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: dom!pansy, nudes, dirty talk, use of slut/whore/etc., praise + slight possession kink, fingering, oral (female receiving), scissoring

♥︎ a/n: SHE IS SO CUTE LOOK AT HER SMILE OMG OMG ─ pansy has my heart and soul. also i don't have tik tok (pls i talk shit about it like every week) but from what i got, i think people paint their nudes and give them to their s/o. the request was that she finds them so i did that instead + changed a little. so uh enjoy!!

every girl has her “naughty” pictures ─ the ones they’d simply die of embarrassment if their parents or friends ever saw.

as a witch who attends hogwarts, yours just so happened to show your fingers going to work on your bare naked pussy explicitly. although with the content, you thought even a muggle would be more captivated with the imagery than the fact that the photo was moving all on its own.

the photo was all in good fun and you had no use for it. for that reason, you’d chosen to paint it. you used your favourite colours and precise brush strokes, covering the sexual image with the designs you found most inspiring. you took an extra day, having fun with the decorating and eventually tucked it away into an old journal, letting it drift out of your mind.

“oh merlin,” pansy moaned, unprompted. the sudden noise caused you to look up at your girlfriend with an eyebrow raised. her thighs were now clenching and you searched the girl who’d been searching your drawer for an extra t-shirt for an explanation. “something wrong, love?” you asked, now standing to walk towards her. pansy dropped what was in her hand and your eyes went wide, shifting back and forth to the item and your girlfriend.

she’d seen your forgotten photo and from the ravenous look in her eyes, it was safe to say she liked what she saw. “didn’t know my girlfriend was a little artist,” pansy smirked, raking her eyes down your body. her words and exuding confidence started a pool between your legs. “sitting there all pretty like a model, covering just what i want to see with all that paint. fuck,” she pushed you onto your bed, plump lips beaming. she kissed you hungrily, enveloping your lips and tasting your chapstick like a sweet treat.

she took her mouth to your neck, her hot breath and nibbles leaving purple love bites wherever she touched. “my pretty, marked up girl,” she growled, grabbing your breasts firmly through your shirt. “take off the shirt, i want to see these bare,” her request rang like a commandment and you tossed it to the floor. she trailed the fingers you longed for down your thigh and snapped her eyes up at your soft whimper. “you want something, y/n? does my pretty little muse want me to touch her?”

you nodded, wide-eyed and horny. “yes pansy, please touch me.” tutting with authority you couldn’t help but love, she pulled back completely and stripped naked. “seeing you think you’re an artist with those photos, why don’t you show me just how talented those fingers are?” laying back across from you, pansy spread her legs wide open and gave you an open view of her painfully wet pussy. she noticed you staring and growing wetter and rubbed her thigh to take you out of your thoughts. “well what are you waiting for?”

you pulled her warm tanned legs so that they were resting on your shoulders and rubbed her clit with her own arousal. pansy moaned, grasping at the sheets beside her. “fuck me, baby,” you complied, easily slipping a finger and then another inside of pansy’s cunt. she moaned louder while you pumped into her faster. the movements grew easier as her pussy grew more and more soaked and you paired your curling fingers with your tongue dipping in her slick folds.

pansy’s hand gripped your hair and pulled your face away, moaning rapidly. “who said you could taste me, slut?” she was still moaning while you fingered her but her teasing was still dancing on her lips. “‘m sorry pansy,” you shoved deeper and fucked her harder, trying to make it up to her. “oh that’s so good,” she moaned and tightened her legs around your neck. “now you can taste me, just because you’re being such a good girl.” you obeyed, eagerly, and dove into her pussy again, licking her wetness and sucking lightly on her clit that she too had started to touch for added friction, to the clear thought of your photo in her mind. she became unraveled, screaming with pleasure and gripping your hair, as if telling you that you better not stop.

the intense orgasm that overtook her met your fingers and spilled onto your lips, wetting your chin and making your pout glisten with cum. “suck,” pansy demanded through her heavily laboured breathing. you put the entirety of your digits in your mouth and sucked them clean, not breaking eye contact with your girlfriend. she took a moment to recover from the pleasure you gave her and sat herself up and, grabbing your chin and looking into your eyes. she kissed you roughly, tongue swiping her juice on your lips. “you did so good, my love,” her teeth grazed your lips through her close-eyed whisper. “tell me what you were thinking of when you fucked yourself in that photo. you looked so hot. i want to reward my dirty girl.”

“i was thinking of you,” you fought the urge to just start touching yourself. “i wanted ─ fuck, i want you to eat me out and...” pansy stroked your cheek gently and gave you a reassuring smile. “and what else sweetheart?” she cooed. “and i want to feel your pussy fucking mine,” you said, your voice high and needy. “your mouth on my tits, leaving hickies everywhere, i want you pansy.” pansy’s hand found your sex and rubbed you as you had, looking you in the eye. “yeah? you want everyone to see what i do to you, don’t you?” pansy teased your entrance, smirking at your state. “you like that i found that picture of you, right? answer me, y/n.” you gave her the words she was waiting for and practically blurted out, “yes, yes, i like being your little slut,” you threw your head back pathetically, the dirty words meeting her ears being too much for you to handle.

pansy took her finger across your slit and piled arousal on her fingertip. she rubbed the wetness on your nipple, flicking and rubbing your hard, sensitive buds. attaching her mouth to one and sucking like she was starved, you cried out her name and your hand flew between your legs. “touching yourself when you have me right here?” pansy scoffed, gripping your wrist tightly. “i won't punish you for being a bad, greedy slut just because i know how addicting those fingers are. you know too, i bet,” pansy wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead and a tear from your eye, “using them on yourself in that photo, painting like my little artist, and fucking me so good with them.”

“pansy,” you didn’t have to say your request out loud before pansy positioned her face just an inch from your throbbing pussy and licked a stripe right on it. encouraging, begging, and thanking heaven for pansy all at once with your moan, she worked her mouth on your core with the enthusiasm that knew how to have you trembling with screams. her lips and tongue worshipped you and even her teeth clacked carefully over your sweet spots and she mumbled against you, praising your pussy. “my perfect girlfriend. always my whore. cum for me, y/n.”

you came as pansy told you to and forced your eyes open in awe as your flushed girlfriend’s determination helped her lap up every last drop of your undoing. “y/n,” pansy hummed to remind you what you asked her for. “you better have another one of those in you if you want me to fuck you.” even if you didn't, you’d give it to her solely because you were unbelievably head over heels for her ─ and her power over you.

leaving a patch of cum on the sheet, she draped her leg over yours and sank her pussy down on yours, both of you moaning soundly at the warm feeling. she rocked at just the right pace and let your combined moans fill the room. the raw feeling of her cunt giving you sweet, sweet friction and her hands squeezing your tits made the world go hazy. cum ran down any skin in both your cores’ sight and a soft bliss soon replaced the screaming sensations of you and pansy finishing within moments of each other.

“say, y/n,” pansy called sweetly and breathily over your ruined states, swirling circles on your skin. “why don’t we take a couple more photos and paint 'em together?” steadying your own breathing, you grinned up at pansy.

“who’s the artist now?” you giggled, poking at her ‘creative’ spark. “only if i get to paint yours.”

“you, sexy thing, have got yourself a deal.”

─────♡

[msmarvelwrites]

Season Of The Witch

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader 

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, honestly i think that’s it. Just soft boy Bucky.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this one. Little bit of a witchy- halloween vibe for ya guys… Honestly I’m really in love with this idea, so who knows- if you like it I might write a part 2! 

Huge Thank you to @cutie1365 for editing this mess! Couldnt have done it without her!

“Okay, okay. What colour am I thinking of now.” Peter squealed, plopping himself down on your bed, staring at you like a kid on christmas. 

Being the Avengers personal psychic has its benefits, but this was certainly not one of them. You thought your party-trick of a superpower would have grown old on your friends, and yet it always seemed to draw a crowd of non-believers. You weren't the toughest or the strongest by any means, but you sure knew your way around a person's thoughts, which proved to be an advantage to the team. Mostly you were in charge of recon, but that didn't stop Natasha from dragging you to the gym every weekend and torturing you with super hero level workouts. 

“How many more times are we going to do this, Peter?” You sighed, but soon realised he wasnt caving. “Blue. Just like last time it was orange and the time before that thirteen. Can we please stop.” 

Peter scanned you over for a moment, before relaxing back on your headboard. 

Fine, but only because Mr. Stark said he was ordering Chinese and it's probably here by now. His voice echoed through your mind. 

“Actually, I heard Wanda say he’s getting pizza.” You corrected.

“How did you-?” He paused, eyes agape as your words registered. “That is seriously cool, you know that? I mean, I hang from the walls but that- that is cool! I can see why they coined you The Witch now,” Peter playfully shouted. “Can you do that with anyone, at any time?” 

You smiled sheepishly, remembering the times your wandering mind had gotten you in some pretty uncomfortable situations. You tried your very best to stay out of your friends heads, but sometimes that was easier said than done. Especially when it came to the former Hydra assassin. His thoughts seemed to creep into your mind, seeping through the cracks unbidden. Sometimes his mind would wander aimlessly, but that wasn't always the case. You knew about Bucky’s dark past, however hearing it in his own cruel words was something else entirely. Though he would never utter the words allowed they were seared into your mind. You had every sense to avoid the man and yet his voice, like gravel and smoke, drew you in, intoxicated on his every word as it clouded around your subconscious.

“Unfortunately” You sighed, easing back into the mattress and unconsciously biting at the corner of your mouth. Your gift didnt make you very popular when you were younger. You were honestly surprised it was so welcomed here. Most people consider you an invasion of privacy...  But Peter was different from the highschool kids you grew up with. Maybe it was due to the fact he was different too, but something about the way his mind wandered made you believe that radio-active spider or not, Peter would always be Peter. 

“What does Bucky think about?” 

That knocked you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up and looked at Peter, who only seemed to have a curious look in his eyes. 

He’s so broody and mysterious. Guy gives me the creeps. 

“Bucky is a sweetheart deep down.” You faked a smile, concerned as to why you felt the need to defend him. From an outside perspective, it was possible to fear the former Winter Soldier. However, knowing what you did haunted your nerves. 

“I’m sure very, very deep down.” Peter chuckled. “I’m going to go grab some pizza before Sam eats it all. Are you coming?” 

You smiled softly, preparing yourself for the dinner with your friends. Though you enjoyed having a sort of family, dinners together would often grow overwhelming in your mind, voices colliding though your head, brewing into a storm in your thoughts. 

“I’ll be down in a few.” With that, Peter stumbled out of your room and down the hallway leaving you with your thoughts. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the many different voices faintly echoing around you. You could only make out bits and pieces as they vibrated through the walls and all around you. At first, it was hard to identify whose voice belonged to who, but soon after you moved into the compound it became easy. 

Natasha thought in poems. Her brain was always working on the next solution- the next verse. Her mind wandered in and out of trains of thought like a dancer, drifting back and forth with ease. It was always relaxing listening in. 

Tony was constantly listening to his music wherever he went. You had an inkling it was because he knew how powerful you were. ‘Like built-in surveillance,’ he’d often say. Though, you’d never deflate his ego in letting him know you could still hear his thoughts clear as day. 

But then there was Bucky. It took you a while to understand his thoughts. They always seemed erratic and chased- never one thought all at once, but it soon became clear why. Bucky was constantly correcting himself. When his mind began to tiptoe into the darkest corners, he’d change the conversation, ushering it back to what he thought was right. Listening to his internal debates became a favourite pastime of yours. He often reminisced about his time in the forties. You liked how easy it was, listening to him think. Though you had never said more than five words to him allowed, you were content with this little part of him. Pieces only you both knew. Like the beautiful woman he would lose himself daydreaming about. The way he described her made you feel flush all over. He never thought her name, and yet it stung all the more knowing his heart was stolen. His beautiful ‘ведьма’. Not that you stood a fighting chance. Not to mention the impending age gape you both shared. Often he would find you staring and a string of curses would follow as he realised he’d be caught. You never meant to intrude, but then again, that wasn't entirely true. 

With a huff, you swung your legs off the bed letting your feet hit the cold wooden floors, but before you could even open the door, you heard him. His voice was so loud you almost didn't know if he was speaking aloud or not. 

Just do it, you punk. Walk up there and ask her. What’s the worst that could happen?.... She could plunge a knife into your back- no…. She wouldn't do that and you know it. If you ask her, she might say yes… Honestly that might he worse than- 

You swing the door open, startling Bucky back a few paces as your eyes might his. Instantly his face blooms with pink as his mind races- his thoughts an incoherent mess. 

“Hi Bucky.” You spoke only above a whisper. 

“Oh jesus! I didn't know you were right there.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck trying to steady his breathing. 

“Sorry…” You mumbled, breaking eye contact and suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “I didn mean to scare you-”

“You don’t- I mean, you didn't scare me.” He chuckled, his mind suddenly blank. “It doesn't matter right now because I, uh… I was wondering if you're coming for dinner.” 

You nodded your head, “Yeah, on my way now.” You smiled softly. 

“Great,” Bucky grinned, running his hand through his cropped hair and stepping aside. “I can walk with you.” 

You nodded, swallowing hard as you swung the door shut and began walking side by side with Bucky in heavy silence. 

“Know what’s for dinner?” Bucky finally spoke. 

“Pizza. Your favourite.” You affirmed, meeting his curious eyes. His strides slowed until he was at a full stop. 

“I never told you that.” He pried, looking at your in question. 

You froze, suddenly aware of what you had just said. There was nothing more you wanted than to sink into the floor and let the earth swallow you whole. 

“Uh,” You nervously laughed, “You must have at some point. Yeah, I remember now, it was-”

“How often do you listen?” he interrupted, making your mouth clamp shut. 

You thought about lying, though it didn't seem right. You knew all his secrets and all he asked was this one. Surely you could grant him that even if it cost a punch to the ego.

“All the time,” You started, your eyes never leaving the floor. “I don’t mean to. At least that’s the way it started. I really try to put you guys all on ‘mute’ when we're together, but your voice always comes through. I don't know what it is, but I like the way you think.” You admitted, feeling heat rising from your chest.

“You like the way I think?” He pried, taking a few steps closer to you. You could feel the tension buzzing around the hallway, ricocheting off the walls and exploding all around you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassed. It's such an invasion of privacy. You must hate me. I promise I won't tell anyone about the things I hear. Especially her.” 

“Her?” He chuckled, taking another step toward you leaving only a few tiles between the two of you. 

“Ведьма.” You choked out. “You think about her all the time. She sounds beautiful, by the way. I’m sorry, that's overstepping… I just, I’m sorry. Really I’ll just go-”

Before you could turn on your heel and run for the hills, Bucky's hands were around your wrists, holding you still. His eyes were pleading as he opened he opened and shut his mouth trying to find the right words to say. 

“For a witch, you sure aren’t very intuitive.” Bucky signed, your eyes finally landing on his.  “My beautiful witch, don’t know by now?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth suddenly dry and words caught in your throat. Before you could speak, his thoughts broke through the air, tumbling around you. 

Are you listening, doll? His voice echoed around you sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded your head, watching as his eyes crinkled up as he a lopsided grin formed on his pink lips. 

It’s you. It’s always you. I've tried to stop, trust me. I just can’t seem to shake it.

You almost didn't notice the smile that began to pull at the corners of your mouth as you took in his words. They drifted in the air around you, echoing through your mind as Bucky’s thumbs rubbed circles into your skin. 

“Ask me.” You spoke up, a sudden confidence serging through your core. Bucky raised a brow, scanning you over until your words resonated with him. 

“Right, of course.” He cleared his throat, letting go of your hands and intertwining his own nervously. “Would you ever consider letting me take you out. To dinner, maybe?”

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling as you listened to his internal monologue of nerves that followed his question. 

“Took you long enough.” You chuckled, watching as his smile lit up the room around you. Before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between you, draping your arms around his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. Bucky froze, but almost as instantly melted into you, his hands finding their home on your hips as he pulled you in. You wanted nothing more than to melt into him but his racing thoughts swirled around you, causing a giggle to fall from your lips. 

Holy Shit. Kiss her back, you moron. Oh god she smells so good. What is that? Cinnamon? Citrus? Shit, she's so close to me. Don't panic. Don't panic. Fuck she feels good. Just relax, and- Oh shit. Can you hear me? 

You couldn't help but throw your head back, laughter bubbling out of your chest as his thoughts raced through his head. 

“I can tell you're going to be a lot of fun, Barnes” You mumbled against his lips.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Nervous Bucky is my favourite can you tell? I loved this one, show some love if you felt the same! 

@cutie1365    @whateveriwant

@projectcampbell    @kalesrebellion

@calwitch     @hpandmcu177a

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Seven

(Gif's not mine.)

I am so sorry for only posting this chapter when Christmas is already over. I lost my initial draft and it was difficult to find time for writing since this season means lots of family time for me.

Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy this last chapter. Previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist, just follow the link.

Chapter Seven 

Chapter warnings: Smut (mild), alcohol consumption (very mild). I think that’s it.

Ada grinned to herself as she slid under the white cotton bedcovers. It wasn't every day that she woke up before the Captain and she intended to make the most of it.

Kneeling on the mattress between his outstretched legs, she bent forward and licked the underside of his proud morning erection, from the base to the soft, pink glans where she made sure to trace the small slit. Sy's hips bucked up and his cock twitched in response, a soft moan escaping his parted lips, but he didn’t wake up just yet. Ada pouted for a moment - she wasn't feeling too patient this morning, not after the dream she had had.

This time, she grabbed his erection firmly at its base and proceeded to take him as deeply in her mouth and throat as her gag reflex would allow, hollowing her cheeks and humming softly.

His reaction was instant. His body went rigid and Sy sat up at once, a glazed look on his soft blue eyes. "Fuck, Ada!" He cursed loudly, carding a hand through his hair as he lifted the covers to look underneath.

His wife merely hummed around his cock, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Sy moved a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb and feeling the outline of his cock inside her mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. "Come up here, I want to kiss you," he rasped, surprising himself with his own words when her mouth felt so heavenly around him.

Ada pulled her head back with a slight pop and scooted forward, straddling his strong thighs. They shared a kiss before her lips moved to hover by the shell of his ear. "Happy three-year anniversary of our first meeting," she whispered smugly. No, she had not forgotten.

Sy laughed, draping one large hand over the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him, her wet folds sliding over his cock in the process and making them both freeze for a second, caught up in the sensation. "Guess I hit the Jackpot three years ago."

Ada chuckled and began to roll her hips against his. The friction felt too good on her clit to stop. "Pity you didn't hit the Jackpot in Vegas," she teased lightly, her hand moving to his shoulder for balance as she raised herself on her knees before slowly impaling herself on his cock. Ada gasped quietly as Sy buried a moan against her neck, his beard grazing her skin.

"If memory serves, I did hit the Jackpot in Vegas when I married you," he murmured.

Ada laughed lightly, her walls rhythmically clenching around his cock. "Stop being so sweet and fuck me already."

For all his natural authority, the Captain did know how to follow an order, especially when it came from his wife. With her holding on to his shoulders for leverage as she rode him, Sy found his head nuzzling her cleavage, his beard leaving the skin of her breasts raw and sensitive. Neither seemed to mind.

All too soon, Sy lost his patience and wrapped an arm around his wife's middle. He began a punishing pace, making her cry out in the mixture of pain and sweet rapture.

The doorbell rang just as they were catching their breaths, still dizzy with bliss. Sy groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "Is this becoming a trend now?!"

Ada laughed at his reaction, disentangling herself from him. "So, it seems," she chuckled. "Go see who it is."

Sy huffed next to her. "Why should I be the one going?" After all, he had been the one who had let Tom in when he had come over for dinner.

Cocking a brow at him, Ada's voice turned mischievous. "I don't mind getting the door. But I'll go naked with your cum running down my inner thighs."

He glared at her dumbfounded, but nothing indicated that she was joking. With a sigh, Sy got off the bed and put on a pair boxer briefs, pointing an accusatory finger at her as he walked out of their bedroom. "That shit's not funny."

°°°

Ada picked up the small envelope that came attached to the wicket basket that had been delivered by a deli, a smile spreading on her face as she read the message.

"It's from Tom," she announced. "He wishes us a merry and delicious Christmas."

“Why is it that anytime the bell rings at the worst moment, Tom’s always implicated.” Still, Sy looked impressed as he started taking out the various foods from the basket. There was all you needed for a copious brunch and even a cold bottle of champagne and orange juice to make mimosas.

Ada got up from bed to grab the plastic goblets where they kept their toothbrushes in from the bathroom. Drinking mimosas in those would be a first but she really didn't want to walk downstairs. When she got back in the bedroom, Sy was already munching on a warm cinnamon roll. "What did we get Tom for Christmas?" He asked with his mouth full.

Ada rolled her eyes, climbing back on the bed. "We," she said, stressing out the word as she looked pointedly at her husband, "gave him a perfectly preserved 1925 Underwood typewriter and had it delivered to his parents' house in Wiltshire two weeks ago already."

Sy swallowed the rest of the pastry. "We are very good and generous friends, indeed," he jested, trying to imitate Tom's British accent.

They ate and drank lazily in bed. With a full belly, Ada had half a thought to take a nap – she had exerted herself this morning after all - but it was noon already and she still had lots to do.

"What time does your mom want us over?"

"Seven o'clock is the official time but she's probably expecting us much earlier to help with the cooking and the baking."

Ada bit her lip. Sy wasn't going to like this. "I won't be able to make it before seven. I've got errands to run."

Sy sighed in response. "If you want to avoid them because of the sex tape thing-" He was interrupted when she hit him with the pillow.

"It's not about that but thank you very much for reminding me of it right when I had finally managed to stop thinking about it." She laughed, gulping down the rest of her mimosa to help with the remaining mortification.  

Leaning forward to kiss her, Sy stopped just before their lips could touch. "I expect you at seven o'clock at the latest, Mrs. Syverson." He warned before finally landing a peck on her lips. "And if that errand of yours is to find me a gift, I wouldn't mind a new desk chair to play the console."

Ada barked a laugh. "Did you really think I would leave it until Christmas Eve to get your gift? Let me tell you, Sy, I got you the ultimate present."

He cocked an eyebrow. Was that a challenge? After all, he had stayed up very late three nights in a row to organize her gift. After all the care packages she had put so much thought in while he was away, Sy really intended to surprise her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure yours won't beat mine, darlin'."

She looked pensive for a second and then stretched out her hand, smirking. "Wanna bet on it?"

Sy chuckled, throwing back his head against the pillow before finally nodding. "As you wish, darlin'. May the most thoughtful gift win."

°°°

The airport had always felt like a real maze to her and the unusual hordes of people really weren't helping. Apparently, a snowstorm had taken over the entire East coast and tons of flights had been either cancelled or delayed.

Ada groaned as she tried to find a path between the crowds. This would have been so much easier if Sy had been there with her - people had a tendency to naturally move out of his way. Eventually, Ada gave up and took off her high heels, deciding to walk barefoot instead. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve dinner since she knew she'd be cutting it short and it was unlikely she'd have time to get changed later.

When her phone rang, she fished it out of her pocket and took the call without looking at the screen, cursing under her breath. If she didn’t get to the counter in time before it closed, her gift would fall through. "Yes?"

There were some rushed whispers from the other end of the line, but she couldn't make out a single word with the loud ambient noise. "I can't hear you."

"Please tell me you're not leaving! On Christmas of all days!"

Ada stopped in her tracks, a frown taking over her face. What the fuck was going on? "Madie, calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you at the airport?!" Madie retorted, her voice a stressed whisper.

"How do you even know I'm -" Right. She had forgotten she'd given her sister-in-law the ability to track her phone a few years ago when she was still new to the city and afraid of getting lost somewhere. "Never mind." Ada interrupted, shaking her head. "Look, I will be there tonight. I am simply running a little late. Is Sy okay?"

"I - He - Urgh!" Madie groaned in frustration through the phone. "He's in the kitchen with mom, they're making cookies. Sy was worried about you because he thought you would have been here by now. Something about it not taking ages to buy a desk chair."

"Did you tell him where I was?" Ada asked, cutting off her sister-in-law. She had finally arrived at the right counter.

"No! God, no! I didn't want to worry him."

"Good. Don't tell him. I'll be there in two hours, give or take."

"Two hours?! Ada no-"

She had already hung up and slid her phone back in her pocket. Plastering the biggest smile on her face, Ada walked up to the lady at the counter. "Hello. I'm Ada Syverson. Please forgive me for being late."

°°°

The quick stop at the store had been hell. Why there were still so many doing their Christmas shopping on the 24th at six in the afternoon, was beyond her. Admittedly, she was there as well but it was simply because Sy would have found it if she had purchased it sooner. Frantically, Ada rubbed her hands over her dress and coat, trying to remove as she waited for someone to open the door.

Helen’s house appeared to have been fully decorated for the season. Luke and Elaine excitedly grabbed Ada hands and dragged her inside before she could even remove her thin coat, proud to show her the table they had helped decorate. It was a nice, festive table indeed, and Ada decided not to point out that cutlery was put in the wrong order. Apparently, her parents were the only ones absolutely pedantic about that.

Sy came running to her with a plate of cookies in his hand. "I made them!" He announced, showing off the Christmas treats as if they were precious jewels.

Before Ada could grab one, Madie appeared behind him, playfully slapping the back of his head. "He might have made the cookies, but I decorated them. I want credit for my work."

Ada rolled her eyes at their siblings’ antics and picked up a cookie, humming appreciatively just to elicit a proud grin from her husband. The fact that they tasted this good didn’t leave a doubt that Helen has kept a close eye on him.

"You made it on time after all, darlin'," Sy pointed out.

Ada ran her tongue over her lips, catching the crumbles. "There was not much traffic," she replied, electing not to mention her excessive speeding.

Dinner was a cheerful affair. Phil mostly kept them entertained with stories of dumb, sometimes rude, customers from the hardware store. When dessert eventually rolled around, Helen thanked everyone for being there, tearing up. It was the first time in years that the family was fully reunited for Christmas and she wished her late husband could have been there with them.

When it got to midnight, Ada learned that the Syversons had a special Santa Claus conception that they taught the kids: Santa did exist, but he only brought gifts to less fortunate children whose families were unable to provide presents for Christmas. If a child was lucky enough that their family could afford gifts, they each had to donate a present to a charity. Joshua had accompanied Elaine and Luke to do so this morning.

They had long finished exchanging gifts and the kids were already playing with their new toys, yet Ada was still going over the binder on her lap, tears in her eyes. Sy had planned this meticulously. He had even made sure she got two weeks off in February and that they would have the same car waiting for them in Vegas so they could do their West coast road trip in the Camaro they had driven to Vegas the first time. 1811km from Las Vegas to Seattle – she couldn’t wait!

She was so enthralled by her gift, she hardly even noticed Sy squeezing her shoulders or Josh calling her name. "I'm sorry, what?" Ada blurted out, jumping up when Sy decided to tickle her to finally get her attention.

"I was asking whether you'd forgotten to get Jack something?" Her brother-in-law teased gently, making her realize that everyone had already exchanged gifts and she hadn't even noticed.

Ada laughed. "I didn't forget. It... It's just not something I could give him here," she replied, attempting to stay vague but it sent the wrong message and she saw Madie chuckle, looking away with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, it's something naughty, then?" Josh asked playfully and Ada swore she could almost physically feel the daggers Helen was staring at her. First, the sex tape and now this, she was slowly getting afraid of what his family would think of her at this rate.

Sy cut off the teasing with a sharp and stern 'hey' in Josh's direction who immediately raised his hands in defeat, much to his Luke's amusement.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sy leant down over Ada’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, smirking. "Is it? Something naughty, I mean."

Ada turned back at once, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Sy had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. "Not everything has to be naughty, you know," she chided light-heartedly, but Sy only laughed, until she pinched his thigh.

"Ada, will you come help me with the dishes?" Helen called from the other side of the room, startling her.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ada silently pleaded Sy for help. The kitchen wasn't a big enough room for both Helen and her to come out alive. Yet, instead of getting her out of this, like any good husband would – might she add – Sy merely gave her an equally encouraging and bemused look.

Sighing, Ada got up on her feet and followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen. She grabbed a rag and awkwardly stood by the sink, waiting for Helen to hand her the clean dishes. They worked in silence, Ada carefully drying off the glasses, lest she have the bad luck of breaking something.

"I wanted to apologize," Helen said out of the blue.

Ada was caught by surprise. "What?" She blurted out before composing herself and shaking her head. "Excuse me, what?"

Helen sighed, drying her hands before turning to her. "I am sorry, Ada. For the way I've treated you."

"Oh." She gasped. Miracles did happen on Christmas then. Ada wasn't sure what to say. "It's okay."

The older woman frowned at her reaction. "Don't you want to know the reason?" Ada shrugged slightly. She was happy enough with the apology as it was. "I disliked you from the first moment because you were the reason my Jack missed Christmas with the family three years ago. It was the first time he was home for the holidays since he had been deployed."

Ada nodded slowly. Well, she could understand that. "Then my late husband slowly managed to convince me to give you a chance. He said that Jack wouldn't just marry any random girl," Helen paused, smiling briefly. "Well, on your first birthday here in Austin, I came by your house to drop off a gift and ask if maybe you wanted to go out for dinner. Once I got there, I saw you were already having dinner with someone else. A man. It looked like you were fun, and I naturally, perhaps foolishly, assumed the worst."

Ada opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was just Tom, but Helen silenced her with a wave of her hand. The woman had authority, it ran in the family apparently "A few weeks later, I saw you at the movies with the same man. That only confirmed my suspicions. I never told anyone, least of all Jack, because I didn't want to see him hurt, especially while he was still in Iraq but I was never able to move away from that."

"The man you saw me with is Tom. He's a good friend-,” Ada quickly explained as soon as her mother-in-law had finished talking.

Helen smiled, nodding softly. "Jack told me about Tom today. Said you three had dinner together, that Tom a kind man, and that the two of you were just friends."

"Well, it's true," she chipped in quickly.

"I believe you." Helen reassured Ada with a squeeze to her shoulder before heading back to the living room where the family was gathered.

Ada remained in the kitchen for a few seconds more, surprised by the turn of events but just as thankful.

°°°

"Nervous?" Sy inquired in the car, quickly glancing at her before moving his eyes back to the road.

Her brows furrowed. "What? Why would I be nervous?"

"You're biting your nails and checking your phone every few seconds." Sy told her, just as smug smile started taking over his face. "If it's about the gift, don't worry, darlin’. I know you couldn't possibly come up with a better gift than the one gave you."

Ada scoffed indignantly. "Let's see if your smugness remains once you see her."

"Her?" Sy asked just as she groaned at herself. Why had she let that slip? He laughed heartedly. "Darlin', Rihanna could be waiting for us at home for a private concert and it still wouldn't top my gift."

It was Ada's turn to laugh. "Perhaps not, but I'd definitely top her!"

°°°

“So, where is it?” Sy inquired as soon as they had made it through the threshold, looking around the ground floor to see if there was something new or unusual.

Even Ada was surprised nothing looked amiss. Her friend, Lily, also a volunteer from the animal shelter and who did not celebrate Christmas, had stayed over most of the evening and miraculously managed to keep the house intact. “Your present is in the study upstairs.” She told Sy, watching bemused as he quickly discarded his shoes to head upstairs.

“If you did get me a desk chair after all, I’ll kill you for all this suspense,” he threatened her playfully, landing a small kiss on her cheek before rushing up the stairs.

With a knowing smile, Ada leaned against the wall, waiting for Sy to open the door. Five seconds later, her husband’s excited voice reached her ears.

“Aika!”

The German Shepherd barked cheerfully in response. Despite the carpet flooring, she could hear the pitty-patter of the dog’s paws on the floor. Yes, they had both aced the challenge, Ada mused as she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. She grinned, shaking her head softly with amusement when she listened to Sy giving Aika the grand tour of the house upstairs.

"This is the bathroom. As you can smell, it ain't stinky like in Baqubah."

"Bedroom here. If you're real nice to mama, she might let you sleep here."

"The walk-in closet. Please don't come here a lot because you’ll get fur everywhere."

She looked up once she sensed them coming closer in the hallway upstairs. As soon as they appeared on the stairs, Ada started laughing at the sight. Sy was caring the German Shepherd in his arm like he would a toddler and Aika really seemed to be enjoying it.

"Be careful with the stairs, it's slippery 'cause of the varnish," Sy told the dog very seriously, sporting an authoritative frown before he caught sight of wife and smiled broadly, almost skipping over the last few steps.

"This is your mama," Sy introduced her, bringing the dog close enough to her face so that Aika could lick her cheek. Ada grimaced, making Sy scoff. "She's a bit uppity, but she's the best," he playfully whispered into the dog’s ear, as if sharing a great secret.

“Aika and I got acquainted in the car when I drove us home from the airport,” she told him, petting the dog’s snuff.

Sy finally set Aika down and she promptly ran off, exploring the ground floor and more specifically, the couch.

"I never thought you'd let me get a dog," Sy admitted, the grin still not leaving his face even as he leant down to kiss his wife. "Didn't even think you liked them."

Ada pulled back, looking offended. "I literally volunteer at the animal shelter weekly!"

"I know, darlin'. Just thought you would rather get a cat or a parrot, or something more Ada-ish."

She chuckled. Truth was she was still keen on getting a cat but now she'd have to find one that would get on with Aika.

Something weird in her peripheral vision caught her attention now that the lights were on, making her turn her head. "Is her fur... stained green?" It was the first time she’d had a good look at the dog under a bright light.

Sy laughed, clasping her shoulders. "Yes. Green dog means good dog. It’s a long story."

°°°

This is it. I hope you enjoyed the series. Thank you for reading!

I wish you a very happy New Year!

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​

[visionsofus]

Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you’ve written Wanda’s first reaction to Vision’s human shimmer before?

hi! you'd never be bothering me! sorry this took a bit for me to get around to - my response ended up being a lot more long winded than I meant! thank you for reaching out with this, at the time I hadn't written anything like that but now I have ~ hope you enjoy 🥰

my inbox is open for anything and everything scarletvision

I just see you

synopsis: Vision hasn't seen Wanda in nearly a year, not since they both decided the danger was too great and they needed to go their separate ways. But he's still her emergency contact, so when Wanda ends up in hospital, Vision is the first to hear. Frantic, he travels to France, desperate to see her safe and harbouring hope that they might yet reconcile.

words: 4,140

read on AO3 here

There was a ringing coming from Vision’s bedroom.

It took a few shrill rings for him to realise that the noise wasn’t coming from inside his own head. Vision had been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn’t resurfaced for hours. It was a jarring thing to do all at once, to leave the carefully regulated interior of his mind and appear back in the physical world once more.

The ringing continued and Vision glanced around, his eyes adjusting quickly. Morning had quickly turned to evening and the pale walls of his room were lit up amber by the sunset.

The source of the sound was quickly discovered in the depths of his wardrobe, hidden within a pocket of a jacket he rarely wore. Vision fished the small flip phone out, anxiously. It had been a gift and the only person who knew its number hadn’t spoken to him in months.

Recalling that telephones only rang for a set time Vision hurriedly answered, lest it run through to the voicemail he’d never had cause to set up.

“Hello?” He said hesitantly, straining his ears to hear the person on the other line. The environment behind sounded busy, he could hear many voices piling on top of one another in chorus.

“Monsieur Maximoff?” The voice on the other side of the phone sounded stern, but unfamiliar. She was also speaking French. Vision did not know anyone who spoke French.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vision asked, fumbling for what to say and desperately grasping at the internet for a French translator. Mr Maximoff? He thought, who on earth was he talking to and how had they come across his number.

“Ah, Anglais.” The voice sounded more distant, as though she were talking to someone else. She returned, this time speaking in English with a heavy French accent. “Am I speaking to Mr Maximoff?”

Vision wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Yes, yes, you are. I’m so sorry, who is this?”

He was just about to trace the caller’s IMEI but the woman at the other end provided him with all the information he needed.

“Bonjour, Mr Maximoff. I am calling from the Toulouse University Hospital,” she said.

“Toulouse,” Vision repeated in astonishment. “Toulouse, France?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, sounding slightly vexed. “We had a patient brought in earlier tonight and you were listed as her emergency contact. Her condition is stable, but she had a hit to the head. We’ve observed her for a few hours, and she seems fine, but we wanted to advise you of the incident so you might pick her up.”

Vision breath caught in his throat as fear gripped his heart.

“To clarify,” Vision said shakily, “you are speaking of Wanda.”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

He must have sounded rather strangled in his panic for when the woman spoke again her words were measuredly more soothing. “She is perfectly fine, Mr Maximoff. Just a bit shaken up with some light bruising and an abrasion on her forehead. We would like to monitor her overnight and if everything is okay, we can discharge her in the morning. Can you come to the hospital for then?”

“Of course!” Vision said frantically. “I can be there soon.”

She ended the call with a pleasantry in French that he didn’t recognise, but he was already on the move. He thought about leaving the phone behind, but decided it was better to have it near him in case the hospital called again.

Vision’s form blurred as he darted about the room grabbing at bits and pieces, he thought he might need. He wanted to travel light but also didn’t want to be caught unawares. He withdrew the travel bag he kept in his nightstand which contained any identification he needed to appear human. Vision had gotten his driver’s license once he had started making more solo trops and Tony had thought it useful. Vision obviously hadn’t taken the test itself; he was a better driver than any human and a test wasn’t needed to prove that.

He also retrieved his passport and the credit card he seldom needed to use. None of these listed his real identity, mind you. Instead, they displayed his human glamour with his pale skin and a head of sandy blond hair.

There was no way he could travel under his true identity without being clocked by the authorities as operating without the Accords’ instruction. Vision doubted that visiting your ex in hospital counted as noble activities that the United Nations would look favourably upon in the event he was caught. Especially when that ex happened to be an international fugitive.

With his ID secured and slipped safely into the pocket of his jacket, Vision made for the door. He was out of the compound before the building’s AI had the chance to trigger the system and notify Tony that someone had crossed the property line.

Vision had never had cause to test his super speed over such extensive distances. There had always been easier alternatives for travel.

Thankfully, progress went fast. Though it was frustrating having to stop at ever major border or airspace to disappear offline so he couldn’t be identified as a hostile flying object. When he did have secure connection, Vision kept an eye on the news in Toulouse, terrified that Wanda might be discovered. So far, the feed was quiet, and Vision had to rest on the assurance that the woman he had spoken with on the phone had said nothing to indicate she was suspicious of Wanda.

In the end, Vision managed to make it to France in just over two hours, having had to detour over the North Atlantic to avoid some nasty weather. Staying low to the ground and mostly hidden under the cover of night, he risked getting within two miles of the hospital before returning to the ground.

Vision ducked down an alley and took a moment to hide in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy on putting on the shimmer that made him appear human. It slipped into place easily. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Vision ensured he looked relatively presentable before heading back out onto the streets of Toulouse.

It was an excruciatingly slow walk, but Vision knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention by walking any quicker than a human. Even in the early hours of the morning, Toulouse still had life to it. There were a few too many watchful eyes than he could be comfortable with. Even knowing that no one on this side of the world had seen his human form, it was still difficult to put the fear to rest.

Vision quickened his pace marginally as he reached the hospital’s entrance, figuring it might seem normal enough to hurry given where he was. In his head he reminded himself over and over that this was normal. He was here because he had received a call about his ‘partner’ who had been hospitalised. Vision felt sick even as he thought it.

Inside the brightly lit ground floor was a round desk with bright green letters hanging above that said la réception.Sitting behind the desk were three nurses. Vision caught the attention of the nearest and smiled politely.

“Bonjour,” Vision said, the language sounding strange in his mouth, “je suis ici pour Ms Maximoff.”

The nurse leant forward to catch Vision’s quiet tone. He was hesitant about using the last name ‘Maximoff’ and wondered why on earth Wanda hadn’t given them a false name.

“Ah,” the nurse’s eyes lit up in recognition and she turned to call over her shoulder, “Louise?”

Another nurse came around to the reception and as she rattled off something in French Vision recognised her as the stern woman who had spoken with him on the phone.

“Mr Maximoff?” She said with a welcoming smile.

“Yes,” Vision said hesitantly, “oui.”

“I though you would come by in the morning—”

Vision opened his mouth to provide reasoning for coming so quickly. He had forgotten how difficult it was, having to lie all the time when he was with Wanda.

“—but I understand you must have been very worried. If you would please follow me.”

Vision shut his mouth tightly, perhaps it was better to say less and let them assume more. The nurse turned away and walked down a long corridor to a set of lifts. She called one down and the doors opened with a chime, before gesturing for Vision to get in. As he stepped in, Vision let his hands brush against the control panel and shuddered slightly as he was absorbed into the hospital’s security system. It felt wrong, but it was better than risking someone having recognised Wanda already. Vision scrubbed through the security, uploaded a match of Wanda’s face and proceeded to edit all visual of her from the camera’s history. The system was too limited to even realise what was happening, let alone retaliate.

“Could you please explain what happened?” Vision asked politely as they reached the fourth floor and the elevator doors opened once more.

“I’m afraid I do not know much more than what I told you over the phone,” Louise said. “She was brought in about seven hours ago with a few other patients from a car accident. A vehicle lost control on the motorway and took out several other cars with it. A bit of a mess I am afraid.”

Lousie caught sight of Vision’s horrified face. “Not that Ms Maximoff was badly hurt,” she said hurriedly, “she is perfectly fine, and we will be able to let her out in the morning.”

Vision breathed out shakily as he was led down a brightly lit corridor. “Thank you.”

“Do not worry,” Louise gave Vision a comforting smile and stopped in front of a nondescript door. “You’re welcome to stay until morning though don’t tell anyone that I let you in out of visitor hours. There is a canteen on the ground floor, but it does not open until 7 I am afraid.”

“That’s alright, it won’t be a problem,” Vision said with a smile, eager to get inside the room and out of view of prying eyes. “Thank you for all your help.”

“D’accord,” Louise said her eyes crinkling in another smile and waving her hand, dismissing his thanks genially.

Vision managed to wait until she had retreated down the corridor before steeling himself and letting his human glamour fall. He did not want to see Wanda as anyone but himself.

As Vision erased himself from the corridor, he took the first step into Wanda’s cramped hospital room. The space smelt sterile, even to him and it was so wholly unwelcoming that Vision’s heart seized at the idea of Wanda spending hours here alone.

It seemed she wasn’t as troubled, instead lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. With the bed propped as it was, Wanda’s face was bathed in the light peeking through the blinds as car headlights flew past. Vision peered at her face intently, surveying the damage.

There was a graze across her forehead and a couple of stitches in her chin, but otherwise no other outwards injuries. There was a clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and Vision picked it up quietly to assess the doctor’s notes. It was in French, and shorthand at that, but he managed to decipher the words with the aid of his translator. MTBI. A mild traumatic brain injury, Vision thought. He knew it sounded much worse than it was and was comforted by the doctor’s following notes: no further cognitive symptoms, keep overnight, review in morning before discharge.

So there really was nothing else wrong. It was reassuring and he felt much better now that he was standing before Wanda’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling steadily.

It was only then that Vision realised precisely how long it had been since he had last seen her. 8 months. Three seasons had passed since she had pushed him out of her life for good and he had let her. Wanda had sworn she didn’t want to see him again, and Vision had let it happen. He’d regretted the argument ever since it had happened

Now here he was, her unassuming emergency contact after a car accident. What if it had been something more final, what if that call had been made to deliver more devastating news, what would he have done?

Vision didn’t waste time pursuing such guilty thoughts further, instead going to Wanda’s side and sitting in the chair beside the bed. As he reached out for her hand, laying still atop the scratchy hospital blanket, he knew it was where he was supposed to be. As he took her hand her fingers twitched, registering the contact.

When Vision looked up, Wanda’s eyes were open, if slightly bleary. She blinked slowly in the darkness.

“Vis?” She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

“Yes,” Vision replied, desperately wishing he could reach out and take her into his arms but knowing it was not his place to do so. Not unless she invited him to.

“It feels like you,” Wanda smiled and closed her eyes again, squeezing his hand. “I wish you were here.”

Vision frowned and wrapped both hands around hers. “I am here.”

Wanda stilled and Vision felt his hands grow warm and the familiar feeling of Wanda’s power. Perhaps just confirming it was him, or maybe it was a more involuntary reaction.

She sat up abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here!” The movement had apparently been too quick for her as Wanda winced and raised a hand to her forehead in pain. Vision jumped to his feet once more and helped her lie back down on her pillows.

“How did you get here?” Wanda asked, now wide awake and staring up at him.

“They called me,” Vision said slowly, trying his best not to distress her further. He thought about moving away from the bed to give her space, but she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and didn’t seem keen on releasing it. After so long without hearing her voice, Vision was content to stay as close as she would allow.

“The accident, was it bad?” He asked.

“Honestly,” Wanda said slowly, “I don’t really remember. It happened so quickly, nothing like a real fight. Just a flash of metal and I was lying on the curb. It barely touched me, but the paramedics insisted I come to the hospital.”

“As they should,” Vision said, unable to keep the distress from his voice. “What if something worse had happened? You really never know with head injuries…”

“Well, I feel fine now,” Wanda said relaxing somewhat amongst the cushions. “Did they tell you when I can leave?”

“In the morning,” Vision replied, “as long as the doctor checks you one last time before you leave.”

Wanda didn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to stay any longer than necessary but at least she didn’t push him to break her out of the hospital.

“I didn’t realise I was still your emergency contact,” Vision said quietly, looking intently at the mattress.

Wanda sighed quietly. “If you’re asking if there’s anyone else, there’s not.”

Vision stiffened. “I wasn’t prying.”

A few moments of silence passed by. “That doesn’t explain why I was listed as Vision Maximoff in your contacts.”

Wanda groaned and finally released his wrist, using her hand to instead cover her face in embarrassment. She sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I was young, hopeful and in love.”

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Vision smiled, half-heartedly trying to joke past the growing discomfort in his chest. He hated that she used the past tense when talking about them.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugged, “well a lot has changed. Being a fugitive changes things.”

Vision nodded, though he knew he’d never really understand what the last year had been for Wanda. “I hope it does not change everything.” He spoke slowly, afraid of saying something that might make her ask him to leave. “My feelings have not changed.”

Wanda bit her lip but seemed to be fighting off something like a smile. “Mine haven’t either.”

Hearing this made Vision breathe easily for what felt like the first time in months. Despite the circumstances, he was here beside her. Wanda was safe, light bruising aside, and through it all she somehow still loved him.

“I know things will always be complicated, but I hope you’ll think about letting me back into your life again,” Vision said softly, taking Wanda’s hand in his again. “It does not matter in what way or form, as long as I can be near you.”

“I’d like that,” Wanda said, her words barely above a whisper. Her chest shuddered as she yawned, wincing again as she shifted her head.

“You should rest. We can talk in the morning.”

Wanda nodded and let her eyes flutter close.

Vision stayed up for the last few hours of the night, a loyal shadow at Wanda’s side. All the while he counted down the minutes until they could leave and he could see Wanda safely to her house, wherever it was she was staying in Toulouse. It concerned him that Steve and the others probably hadn’t heard about Wanda’s accident, and he hoped they weren’t losing their minds with worry. There was another part of him that thought Wanda might be alone in France, she had always preferred staying in Europe when her small band of fugitives went their separate ways. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

It was foolish for Vision to hope, but he was starting to think the best way for this day to end was with him in Wanda’s bed. Of course, logically he knew they weren’t there yet. Even Wanda’s admission the night before to allow him back in her life felt like enough. But it was difficult to curb 8 months of longing.

As the clock ticked past 6am and the sky began to lighten behind the blinds Vision waited patiently, not wanting to disturb the rest Wanda so clearly needed. She had never been a quiet sleeper, always tossing and turning and mumbling in dreams. Vision was well accustomed with her habits, so it was unnerving to observe her stillness. But her breathing remained steady through until dawn. The only time Wanda had shifted was to roll onto her side, pulling their hands, which had found each other in the night, closer towards her.

Wanda finally woke around 7 and Vision busied himself by pretending to peer out the blinds and observe the street below.

“How are you feeling?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing the sheets rustle as Wanda sat up.

“Better now,” she mumbled. “But ready to get out of this place, I’d rather not risk it with the authorities in France again.”

Vision hated the way that Wanda said again. What had really happened in the months he hadn’t heard from her?

“No need to worry, I’ve removed you from security camera footage and before we leave, I’ll scrub us from the system again.”

Wanda rubbed at her eyes as she slipped out of the hospital bed. “Give me a chance to splash my face and change and we can get going.”

“No rush,” Vision murmured but it felt untrue. There was a rush. Even if he did remove them from the records there was no saying that a member of staff wouldn’t eventually recognise the name Maximoff and tell the authorities. Yes, the sooner they were out of the hospital, the better.

While Wanda was freshening up, Vision gathered her meagre belongings. Her necklaces, rings and phone had been left in a plastic tray on the bedside table. With everything safely in his pockets Vision slipped back into the hospital’s security system. From what he could tell, no alerts had been tripped but then again he didn’t know if the hospital had a specific code for ‘there’s an international fugitive on premises call the police’. Vision knew the hospital was nearly at capacity based on the records he had looked at, so the chances that their faces would stick out of everyone felt unlikely.

Nevertheless, it was better safe than sorry and there was no way they wouldn’t draw attention with him looking as he was. Once again, Vision closed his eyes and visualised his human shimmer, shivering as it fell into place. His skin tickled as his hair fell onto his forehead and Vision reached up to run a hand through it, a mannerism he had never had reason to practice but had seen others perform.

The bathroom door creaked as Wanda closed it behind her. It was a relief to see her out of the hospital gown and in something more Wanda.

“Vis how are you going to—” As she turned and caught sight of him, Wanda’s voice caught in her throat. She brought both hands to her mouth in astonishment.

Vision suddenly grew shy. Of course, Wanda had never seen him like this, of course it would be a shock. Did she even recognise him?

“It’s still me,” Vision said hurriedly, whether for her sake or his he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Wanda’s eyes continued to search his face in disbelief.

“I know,” she finally said, approaching him slowly. “I can tell it’s you.”

Just as she reached him the door to the hospital room slid open and a young woman entered.

“Bonjour,” Vision said hurriedly, taking a few steps back from Wanda and turning his attention to the doctor. Wanda’s eyes remained on Vision right up until the doctor approached her and asked her to do a few simply exercises. When she was sure that motor function was normal, they were told they were free to leave and to go down to the reception to begin the process of checking out. The doctor made Wanda promise to return to the hospital if she began experiencing anything like memory loss or migraines.

With the doctor gone once more, Wanda spun on Vision, getting far closer to him than she had yet. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning.

“This is new.”

Vision nodded against her hand, relishing this one touch that he had spent months dreaming about. “I started working on this as soon as I left…”

He didn’t need to explain more and saw Wanda’s gaze grow shadowed as she presumably recalled their fight. It had been about their safety around each other, it always was. Wanda had been angry about Vision being put at risk around her, and he had been annoyed about the same thing for her. It had been so difficult to hide and meet up every few weeks back then, especially when Vision was so recognisable, and Wanda was being broadcasted around the globe. When Wanda had finally insisted on breaking things off, Vision had agreed. He’d returned to the compound and spent a week perfecting his new human mirage. It was all in the hopes that when she next called him things would be easier. But she hadn’t called.

“Do you have a—” Vision swallowed nervously, “—a preference?”

Wanda tilted her head curiously, “I don’t mind this new glamour, either way it’s you. But I prefer the you you.”

Vision tried to hide his relief as he raised his hand to Wanda’s which was still pressed to his cheek. Her thumb was running curiously circles over his skin. Carefully, cautiously, he took her hand and pressed his mouth to the back of her knuckles. The gesture’s effect was immediate, and Wanda closed her eyes.

“I miss being close to you,” she whispered, as they gravitated closer together. “I could imagine you; I could see you were safe on the news but nothings the same as having you here under my hands.”

Well, she’d had one more assurance than him at least.

It didn’t take much for Vision to pull her closer, hooking an arm around her waist and letting his human glamour fall. She sunk into his embrace, as he had imagined her doing for months and Vision wrapped his arms securely around her.

“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he said, strained.

“Alright,” Wanda said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

She drew back and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vision’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as her mouth moved softly against his own, something he hadn’t let himself dream of doing ever again.

Wanda smiled against his mouth. “We’re sticking together from now on.”

[cosmic-goddess-leo]

Show Me Your Teeth

Vampire!Kuroo x Monster Hunter!Reader Chapter 2 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Kuroo Tetsuro finds himself in quite the predicament when an injured monster hunter stumbles into his castle seeking refuge.

Part 1

Word Count: 6,421

Warnings: SMUT IMMEDIATELY. Violence, bl00d, d3ath. Angsties

Author’s Note: I know some of yall were anticipating this be a series but I just couldn’t post another 10k fic lmao. I really hoped you guys enjoyed this 2 part series!

If Kuroo thought he was self conscious about his fangs before, he had another thing coming as (Y/n) pressed her lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss. He wanted to lose himself in the pleasure, throw caution to the wind and risk one of his fangs pricking her plush lips.

But that would ruin everything. Ruin this opportunity to be intimate with the woman he had fallen in... who he had developed strong feelings for.

Instead he carefully worked his lips against hers, making sure to keep the kiss from getting too heated for fear of her tongue discovering his fangs.

He was caught off guard when (Y/n) pulled him onto the bed, moving him so she was caged between his arms. Their lips parted as (Y/n) began undressing, a giggle escaping her lips as Kuroo watched her intently, looking like he was ready to eat her...

Kuroo was so caught up in suppressing his hunger that he almost forgot to start undressing himself. He stared down at her, gaze turning predatory as he licked his lips at the sight of her throat.

There was something about the smell of someone’s blood when they were aroused... it was the most delectable scent to ever grace Kuroo’s senses. Fucking intoxicating... he didn’t know how he would get through the night without trying to taste (Y/n) at least once.

He was promptly distracted by the smell of (Y/n)’s arousal, a whole new kind of hunger taking over as instincts took over and he started planting hot kisses on (Y/n)’s chest. She shrieked at the cold feeling of his lips brushing over her nipples, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin.

Kuroo gripped harshly at her hips as he took one of her nipples between his lips, beginning to suckle gingerly at the delicate bud. Her moans echoed through the room, going straight to his dick as his tongue swirled over her nipple.

God, was this a fucking tooth ache? Were Kuroo’s fangs fucking aching? He pushed his hunger deep down, kissing down (Y/n)’s body towards her cunt, hoping if he gathered her juices on his tongue it would distract from his hunger.

He couldn’t help but moan as (Y/n) wound her fingers into his hair, gripping at him tightly as he dragged his tongue up her slit. Kuroo peered at her through his lashes as she writhed and screwed her eyes shut in pleasure. His muscle worked mercilessly against her clit, eyes fluttering shut as he felt his hunger subsiding, her juices like honey dripping onto his lips and chin.

Kuroo’s eyes snapped open as (Y/n) yelped in surprise, realizing one of his fangs poked her folds. His tongue quickly lapped at her to dull the pain and distract her, hoping she wouldn’t notice the canines practically glistening in the moonlight.

“Didn’t know you were a biter, Tetsuro...” she purred. Kuroo couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest as he teased his fingertips against (Y/n)’s tight hole. He slowly worked his fingers into her pussy, pulling another moan from her lips and causing her to buck her hips.

Kuroo pinned her hips onto the bed with his free hand, smirking with glee at her desperate attempts at getting more friction. “You’re so fucking beautiful... practically begging for my touch.”

(Y/n) moaned at his words, whimpering as he curled his fingers and hit that special spot deep inside her. He quickened his pace, spurred on by her needy moans as he began rutting his hips against the bed, moaning against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

This was practically sinful, it was almost criminal how (Y/n) didn’t realize how sinful it was. The thought of a huntress submitting to a vampire’s touch so easily was enough to make Kuroo’s cock twitch.

An animalistic growl slipped past his lips as (Y/n) yanked on his hair at a particularly rough pump of his fingers. He pulled away from her cunt, licking her juices off his lips before pressing his hips flush against hers.

He found himself yearning for the taste of her blood now that his lips were no longer occupied, hoping he could distract himself at the feeling of her tightness.  Kuroo traced the tip of his cock against (Y/n)’s folds, collecting her juices before rubbing it against her clit.

(Y/n) almost pointed out how even his dick was cold, interrupted by the feeling of suddenly being stretched by his massive girth. She threw her head back with a loud moan, unaware of how enticing her neck looked in this position.

Kuroo began mercilessly snapping his hips into her, his inhuman strength rocking the bed in time with his thrusts, the sound of creaking wood, desperate moans, and skin slapping against skin mingling in the air. The delicious mixture of pain and pleasure had (Y/n) crying out as she clung to Kuroo’s back.

His grip on (Y/n)’s hips was bruising, his movements harsh as he slowly began forgetting about his desire to feed. Kuroo could feel his orgasm building and building, his own moans harmonizing with (Y/n)’s.

Kuroo’s cold fingers worked against (Y/n)’s clit and caused her moans to rise in pitch and volume. He buried his face in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck, his breathing became labored as he inhaled his lover’s delicious scent.

“Tetsurooo! I-I’m so close!” She whined, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips, his body flush against hers and his pelvis rubbing tantalizingly against her clit as he pinned her wrists above her head.

His hot breath fanned against her throat, fangs lightly grazing her delicate skin as he held himself back from sinking his canines into her neck. One of them lightly pricked at her skin, drawing a single drop of blood. (Y/n) hadn’t even noticed the tiny pinch, too wrapped up in the feeling of her orgasm washing over her.

Kuroo couldn’t help but drag his tongue against her throat, eyes rolling back as he tasted the singular bead of crimson mixed with sweat. He didn’t know how, but she was the most delectable human he had ever tasted. The feeling of (Y/n)’s blood on his tongue combined with the clench of her pussy had Kuroo moaning wildly as he forced himself to pull out of her and cum on her stomach.

(Y/n) breathed hard as she rode out her high, eyes fluttering shut as Kuroo’s fingers slowly traced down her arms. He cradled her sides as he littered her face with tender kisses, smiling softly as (Y/n) giggled cutely at him.

“How are you still cold after all that?” she snickered, tilting her head at Kuroo as he laid beside her.

“Aah... I’m always cold like this...” he murmured, pulling the blankets to cover their bodies as (Y/n) hugged his waist.

“Lucky for you I’m always warm...” (Y/n) smiled tiredly, her post-coital bliss now replaced with fatigue.

Kuroo hummed quietly in response, eyeing the light scratch on her neck warily. He was surprised at the amount of restraint he was showing, but he knew he would have to feed soon. On human blood. And he couldn’t bring himself to compel (Y/n) into a compliant state and drink from her. Not after these few months together.

He quietly bid her goodnight, quickly coming up with a plan to feed tomorrow night once she had gone to bed. Originally he wanted to wait until she left the castle... but now he knew he couldn’t stave off his hunger any longer.

———————————————————–

(Y/n) was pleased to wake up to find Kuroo in bed beside her, reading quietly. Her tray of breakfast was placed in its usual spot, the curtains shut and keeping the sunrise shut out. He pressed a sweet kiss to her temple, his cold lips catching her off guard, then set the tray of breakfast in her lap.

“Did you already eat?” she asked, popping a strawberry in her mouth. Kuroo hummed in response, only half paying attention as he continued reading. He didn’t even want to hear the word ‘eat,’ last night’s little appetizer already had him feeling on edge.

Unbeknownst to him, his silence made (Y/n) nervous. She picked at her eggs, suddenly very conscious of how bare she was. “Last night... you don’t regret it, do you?”

Kuroo quickly shut the book, setting it aside and turning to fully face (Y/n). He wanted to limit their physical contact as much as possible, not wanting her to grow suspicious of his cold skin, or look too closely at his eyes.

“I don’t... do you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. He hid his tensing as (Y/n) gently took his hands in hers, fiddling with his fingers anxiously.

“No... I’m just a bit worried, you seem somewhat distant...” (Y/n) trailed off.

Kuroo bit his lip before lightly brushing a strand of hair behind (Y/n)’s ear, “I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone... Just getting used to intimacy again I suppose.”

She smiled softly, glancing up at him through her lashes before taking his hand again and gently kissing his knuckle. Kuroo could tell there was more (Y/n) wanted to say, possibly about what this meant for the two of them. He was grateful that she instead continued eating her breakfast.

However, he would be lying if he didn’t feel a small prick of disappointment. Kuroo knew logically that she would have to leave, or he would die. He had never heard of a vampire living harmoniously with a human, a monster hunter at that.

The process of asking her to leave would have been much easier if they hadn’t fucked the night before. Vampires were either hungry or horny. There was no in-between. What a fucking existence.

And now Kuroo couldn’t even get lost in his thoughts hidden behind the door to the bedroom, there was no point in hiding when (Y/n) had already seen his face.

He spent the majority of the day with her until it was time to cook her dinner. Kuroo set the tray in her lap and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. (Y/n) sent him a questioning glance when she noticed he had changed his clothes.

“I need to pick up a few things from a merchant in the village. I will be back after sundown…” Kuroo explained, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. “And don’t try to stay up and wait for me, you still need to rest.” he added.

(Y/n) nodded in understanding, delving into her supper as Kuroo bid her goodbye and left the room.

Kuroo technically wasn’t lying. He did have business in the village… and he was technically visiting a ‘merchant’ of sorts. But his hunger clouded his senses, making him increasingly unaware of the prying eyes that watched him enter the village, following him all the way into the nearest brothel.

———————————————————–

(Y/n) woke to an empty bed sometime in the middle of the night. A painful ache in her arm is what tore her from her sleep, making her regret having refused the tea with poppy milk Kuroo had made with her dinner.

Kuroo always left a small vial of poppy milk on her bedside table incase (Y/n) experienced any pains during the day. (Y/n) moved to reach for the vial, freezing in place when she heard a blood curdling scream echo through the halls.

It was a woman’s scream, she sounded absolutely terrified. (Y/n) knew there were no other people occupying the castle, so where did she come from? Maybe she had run inside, trying to escape some horrible beast in the forest. That had to be it.

(Y/n) pushed herself to stand, grunting as she tested the amount of weight she could put on her injured leg. The huntress strapped her sword onto her hip before draping her fur pelt to protect herself from the cold halls of the castle, knowing the winter winds would seep through her white nightgown. She took hold of her whip before grabbing one of the crutches Kuroo had given her, finally setting out into the halls of the castle.

This was the first time she had set foot outside of her room, but she used the sound of another shriek to guide her to her destination. Her eyes curiously studied the tapestries and portraits that hung on the stone walls, so distracted she almost fell into a collapsed section of the floor. If she wanted to continue, she would have to enter a nearby room and hope it had a door connecting to the other side of the hall.

She looked to her right, stepping into what appeared to be an old study, its walls adorned with cobwebs and dust. (Y/n) found a door connecting to a second room, one that would surely open back up to the hallway, but stopped dead in her steps when she noticed a large portrait hung over an unlit fireplace.

A man, woman and child all stood regally before the castle, their eyes almost following (Y/n) as she moved closer to get a better look. This had to be Kuroo and his parents. 

‘Tetsuro certainly inherited his father’s looks,’ (Y/n) thought to herself, staring at the man’s face intently. But (Y/n) quickly noticed something off about the portrait.

The child that would have been Kuroo looked nothing like him… the little boy had curly, wild blond hair, identical to that of the woman in the painting. He also had shimmering green eyes, also like the woman’s.

(Y/n) tried to convince herself this was a portrait of distant family members, but that wouldn’t explain how the man in the portrait was identical to Kuroo. Something wasn’t right.

Another scream finally tore (Y/n)’s eyes off the painting, reminding her of the task at hand and sending her into the adjoining room and back into the hall.

Her bare feet carried her through the halls, finally bringing her to the first floor of the house, near the foyer where (Y/n) had battled the werewolf pack months ago. She shivered at the cold air seeping through the damaged doors and windows, the cold almost distracting her from a faint glow seeping out from underneath a nearby closed door.

(Y/n) stepped towards the door as quietly as possible, hissing in pain as she put weight on her leg to bend over and look into the room through the door’s keyhole. It appeared to be a large sitting room, full of several couches and loveseats.

Her vision was limited, but she could make out two figures on the couch at the center of the room. Judging by the head of hair on the larger figure, it had to be Kuroo leaning in close to the smaller figure beside him. A whirlwind of emotions whipped through (Y/n)’s chest. Confusion. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Anger.

Without a second thought, (Y/n) burst into the room, the pain in her leg long forgotten as her crutch fell to the floor. Tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes as she stared at Kuroo, waiting for him and the unknown woman to turn to her in shock. She never could have predicted what happened next.

Kuroo’s head snapped in her direction. The whites of his eyes had turned pitch black, his irises the same shade of red as the blood dripping down his chin. Two pearly white, elongated fangs glistened in the light of the fire, blood coating the monstrous canines that he had just pulled from deep within the woman’s throat.

The woman instantly crumpled like paper, falling limp onto the couch as Kuroo stood, quickly approaching (Y/n) with his arms outstretched. (Y/n) watched him in shock, quickly stepping backwards before tripping over her own feet and falling to the floor.

“(Y/n). (Y/n), please. Let me explain-”

“You’re- you’re a fucking vampire…” (Y/n) interjected, voice wavering with fear as her eyes stayed glued to his fangs.

“I am. I’m a vampire. I’m sorry I had to feed, I had to take her-”

“You know who I am, you know what you are, and you didn’t tell me…” she was almost speaking to herself as she crawled backwards, out of the room and into the foyer. “Y-you… you were inside of me…”

Kuroo winced at her tone as his eyes reverted back to their original colors. He moved to kneel beside her, only to be interrupted by the sound of banging on the doors of the castle. The planks he had temporarily nailed onto the damaged doors creaked and groaned as something heavy slammed into the wood.

The doors burst open as a crowd of villagers carrying pitchforks and torches slammed a large battering ram fashioned out of a chopped down tree to enter the castle. Kuroo deadpanned at this, huffing a small ‘you’ve got to be fucking shitting me,’ under his breath.

An old man was leading the group, Kuroo quickly recognized him as the village’s religious leader, and anger flared in his chest.

“I knew I had recognized him… It appears Kuroo Tetsuro survived the last time we led a raiding party into this cursed place!” The man proclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger in Kuroo’s direction.

“Im a fucking vampire!” Kuroo barked, his patience growing dangerously thin. “You really thought burning me and burying the remains would fucking kill me?! Were your parents fucking cousins, you ignorant twat?!”

“That’s the huntress who went missing! The (L/n)!” A woman shouted from the crowd, pointing at (Y/n) who had put more distance between her and Kuroo as she crawled away on her hands and knees.

The old priest helped (Y/n) onto her feet, noting the distant look in her eyes. “The beast has had her under his control…” he murmured, shaking (Y/n) by her shoulders to bring her out of her shocked state.

“We have to leave…” she mumbled, grasping the man’s hand and attempting to lead him and the crowd out of the castle.

“We have to kill this monster!” a man beside her shouted, motioning to Kuroo who was now attempting to calm his breathing. “He stole a woman from my brothel! He’s awoken from his slumber and will continue kidnapping our women until he is satiated!”

“You’re a (L/n)! You should kill this monster and be done with it!” Another woman jeered from the crowd, numerous people in the crowd shouted in agreement.

(Y/n) turned to Kuroo, gripping the consecrated whip on her hip on instinct. “Just let us go and there won’t be any trouble!”

Kuroo’s chest ached at her threatening tone. He stepped towards her, eyes softening when he saw the pain in her eyes. He had caused her so much pain. Just as he had with his wife. Just as he had with his son.

The vampire tried so hard to fight back his tears, forgetting the angry mob only for a moment as he attempted to reach for (Y/n). “I-I can’t… I can’t let you go without-”

A sudden burn on Kuroo’s arm had him reeling back and howling in pain. The exposed flesh of his arm was now bubbling from a splash of holy water the priest had sent his way.

“I won’t let you lay another finger on her! Don’t come any closer, you beast!” The priest exclaimed, stepping in front of (Y/n) to shield her body from Kuroo.

For an old man that priest was pretty fast. But Kuroo, of course, was faster.

The vampire’s response was faster than lightning. He grabbed the old man by his tunic, plucking him from the crowd and holding him above the ground. Kuroo bared his fangs at the priest, “You shit eating pig!” he hissed.

He lunged for the priest’s throat, ready to take a chunk out of his wrinkled flesh and make an example out of him. Kuroo heard the familiar crack of a whip before he felt it’s sting against his side.

Kuroo dropped the old man as the magical force behind the whip sent him flying away from the crowd and crashing into a nearby wall. Had he not just fed off that prostitute, the whip could have quite possibly killed him. He slowly picked himself up, looking at (Y/n) in disbelief as she stood protectively in front of the fallen priest.

“I don’t want to hurt you…” she said, shrugging the werewolf pelt off her shoulders. “But you’ve left me no choice…” (Y/n) cracked the whip once more, breaking the sound barrier within inches of his face. “You don’t belong in this world, monster!”

Kuroo stood straighter as something inside him snapped. The whites of his eyes turned black and his irises went red once again. A low, feral growl vibrated deep within his chest as he spoke through his gritted teeth.

“If it’s a monster you want… then it’s a monster you will get!”

The vampire lunged at (Y/n) only to be sent flying backwards with another snap from her whip. Kuroo caught himself this time, landing on his feet hunched over and cradling the spot on his stomach the whip had made contact with. He glared up at her through his lashes, hissing at her as the crowd of people praised and cheered for her.

(Y/n) ignored their cheers as she unsheathed her sword with her free hand, the weight proving a bit difficult to handle given she was using her injured arm. She bolted towards Kuroo, ignoring the pain in her leg as she aimed the tip of her sword directly at his chest.

She stopped abruptly in front of him, the impact of her sword causing an audible clang. For a moment, she thought it was over. Slowly raising her head, (Y/n) realized rather than impaling Kuroo square in the chest, he had grabbed the very tip of it with his claws, his inhuman strength holding it steady.

“Is that why you fight?” he taunted, cocking an eyebrow at her. “The applause? The love from those humans that they will never grant you?”

Kuroo released his hold on the sword before swiftly backhanding (Y/n), the force of the hit sending her to the stone floor a few feet away. Her sword landed just a mere foot out of her reach.

The huntress recovered from the blow, pushing herself onto her elbows and attempting to grab the weapon before Kuroo used the heel of his boot to kick it away. “You think killing me will clear the (L/n) name? You’d have to kill a thousand vampires before they’d ever forgive your family.”

Kuroo nudged (Y/n) to lay on her back with the toe of his boot, glaring down at her as he slowly pressed his boot to her chest and bagan applying pressure. (Y/n) writhed and squirmed with discomfort, gripping his ankle through the thick leather and attempting to move his foot.

“I-I don’t do it for praise… And I’m not doing it for forgiveness…” She wheezed, clawing at the boot feebly. “I’m a f-fucking (L/n)... and it’s our job to protect humanity!”

Kuroo chuckled darkly, the sound of approaching footsteps not lost on him as he lessened the pressure he was putting on (Y/n)’s chest. “How noble.”

Just as the priest was within adequate distance to douse Kuroo in holy water again, the vampire lunged at him, gripping the old man by his throat. His monstrous claws dug into his flesh and his blood gushed onto Kuroo’s arm.

“Not this time, old man…” Kuroo smirked, lifting the priest’s bleeding body high into the air as the villagers cried out in despair. (Y/n) watched fearfully as Kuroo parted his lips, allowing the man’s blood to pour into his awaiting mouth.

(Y/n) pulled herself to stand, hastily picking up her sword and holding it defensively in front of her body as Kuroo continued to feed. Her eyes were wide with fear and disgust, her body paralized and unable to even attempt to attack the vampire while he was distracted.

The priest’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Kuroo sighed in satisfaction, sucking the remaining blood off his fingers with gusto.

He lazily turned to look at (Y/n), rolling his shoulders back as he cracked his neck. “Run, huntress, run…”

(Y/n)’s feet carried her away from the foyer and towards the direction of her room. Her injured leg ached, her lungs burned from the cold air of the castle, and she almost tripped over her nightgown several times as she attempted to make her escape. All the while she could hear Kuroo following close behind.

She knew he could catch up to her if he really wanted to. He was toying with her. Enjoying this game of cat and mouse before he fed on her as he had the priest and the prostitute.

(Y/n) jumped over the large hole in the hall she came across earlier, knowing if she took the detour she had earlier Kuroo would just catch up to her. She shrieked in pain as she landed roughly on her injured leg, momentarily falling to her knees before continuing her mad dash towards the bedroom, hoping to fortify it against her undead assailant.

The huntress whipped the door open, moving to shut it behind her only to be halted as Kuroo shoved his arm through the doorway. (Y/n) screamed as she pushed all her weight against the door, simultaneously thrusting her sword into the air, slicing at Kuroo’s forearm with the silver blade.

He roared in pain and pulled his arm back, allowing (Y/n) to shut and lock the door. She quickly grabbed the chair placed in front of the vanity mirror, propping it under the handle before dousing the foot of the door with holy water.

(Y/n) pointed the sword at the door, shaking from fear and exhaustion as she waited for Kuroo to attempt to enter the room. The hall had grown eerily silent, the only audible sound (Y/n) could hear were her own labored breaths.

Just as (Y/n) began to wonder if he had left to attack the villagers downstairs, the bedroom window closest to her shattered and she was tackled to the floor. The force of impact sent (Y/n)’s sword flying out of her hand, clattering to an unknown area of the room as Kuroo pinned her down.

Kuroo took her by her arms and slowly stood up before throwing her carelessly onto the bed. His claws had slashed one of her arms, filling the air with the sweet tang of her blood. His red eyes burned into her as he slowly licked his claws clean, moaning at the taste of her.

(Y/n) clutched her arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding as Kuroo approached, crawling onto the bed and up her body on all fours. He roughly grabbed her wrist, pinning it beside her head as he gripped her hair roughly with his free hand and pulled her head back.

Her hand pressed weakly against Kuroo’s broad chest, attempting to push him off despite knowing she wasn’t strong enough. (Y/n)’s eyes screwed shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as Kuroo grazed his fangs over her exposed neck.

“Aren’t you going to beg?” he purred, his icy lips brushing over her pulse point as he spoke.

(Y/n) whimpered at the feeling of his fangs ready to puncture her skin, the pitiful sound making him pause. “Do it…” she whispered, choking on a sob before continuing. “I can’t do it… only one of us comes out of this alive and I can’t do it…”

Kuroo’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion before he bared his fangs against her skin once more. “And why is that…?” he muttered against her skin.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop sobbing at this point, her body now limp as she gave up all hope of freeing herself from his hold. “Because despite who I am- despite what you are… I love you…”

Kuroo felt his heart clench in his chest as he abruptly pulled away from her neck to look her in the eyes. He looked deep within her to see if this was some sick trick, something to catch him off guard so she could stake him. But she looked into his eyes, no hint of malice or dishonestly in her (e/c) orbs as she sobbed harder.

“You kept what you are from me… you’ve hurt me, but I’ve fallen in love with you… and I can’t bring myself to kill the man I love- so please- just don’t let me suffer!” (Y/n) cried out before shutting her eyes and turning her head to expose her neck to him.

It was now that Kuroo felt how her body shook with fear, how her heartbeat hammered wildly against her ribcage. He could still smell her blood in the air, but felt disgust and regret swell in the pit of his stomach when he saw the crimson liquid pooling against the sheets and staining the bed. His eyes shifted back to their normal state as he gingerly cupped her bruising cheek, his heart just about breaking when (Y/n) flinched at his touch.

It was now that his instincts were no longer clouded by his bloodlust that he saw what he had done to her.

“I’m killing you…” Kuroo whispered to himself, moving his weight off her body to sit up on his knees as he surveyed the damage he had done to the bedroom. Glass was scattered about the floor, blood and torn pieces of (Y/n)’s nightgown left here and there.

“The first person to make me feel anything in decades… and I’m killing you…” he sobbed, holding his head in his bloodied hands.

(Y/n) attempted to prop herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him but gasped at the pain in her arm that had been clawed. Kuroo tore off the sleeve of his shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tightly over the wound to stop the bleeding. He gently shushed (Y/n)’s pained whimpers as he took the bottle of poppy milk from her bedside table and gave it to her to drink.

Kuroo turned to the door when he heard the angry voices of the mob approaching the bedroom. He looked back at (Y/n), cupping her cheeks gently before pressing a small kiss to her nose. “Sleep, my love…”

(Y/n) was quickly overcome with fatigue, falling back onto the bed and falling asleep almost instantaneously. She vaguely heard the crunch of broken glass under Kuroo’s boots as he walked to the window, followed by silence as she drifted into darkness.

——————————���————————–

The steady clop of horse hooves against the dirt road is what woke (Y/n) from her deep slumber. She opened her eyes, immediately seeing the canopy of a covered wagon hanging over her head. She slowly glanced at her surroundings, finding several chests, crates, and building materials around her.

(Y/n) sat up, clutching the fur pelts to her body as her breath came out in puffs due to the winter air.

“You’re awake…”

She looked to the owner of the familiar voice, recognizing Kuroo’s cloak clad figure at the front of the wagon, clicking the rains of the two horses pulling the cart. (Y/n) carefully made her way to him, sitting beside him as she tightened the warm furs around herself.

“What happened…?” she asked, looking around at the dark forest they were currently traversing.

“I figured it was time to leave my home behind and try to move on…” Kuroo murmured, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“And where would we do that?” she tilted her head at him curiously.

“I’m going to a section of unclaimed land I found on a map...I figured it would be best if I leave you in the first village we come across.”

(Y/n) looked at him incredulously before crossing her arms. “After everything we’ve been through you’re planning on dumping me in the nearest town and leaving things at that?-”

“I nearly killed you, (Y/n).” Kuroo interrupted sternly. “I love you, truly I do, but I can’t bear the thought of living with you knowing I’ve caused you so much pain… or that I might do it again.”

(Y/n) chewed on her lip and huffed, looking down at her knees as she tried fighting back her tears. The huntress would be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid of what Kuroo was capable of, but that stubborn warm feeling in the pit of her chest told her to go against her instincts and fight to stay with him.

They barely spoke a word to one another as they continued down the road for the next couple of hours. The sun eventually rose, causing (Y/n) to send Kuroo to the back of the cart as she took the reins on the horses.

(Y/n) eventually glanced back at him, studying his figure hunched over in his cloak as she spoke. “That story you told me… about your father… That was you wasn’t it?”

Kuroo solemnly nodded, eyes trained on the muddy soles of his boots as he absentmindedly fiddled with his cape. “Yes… I was turned almost 60 years ago by a vampire who seduced me… Then that priest and the villagers killed my family.”

‘No wonder he had attacked the priest so viciously…’ (Y/n) thought.

“I imagine they believed they had killed me as well… his stake was aimed a little too far to the left I suppose. I awoke in a shallow grave with my wife and child…”

(Y/n) gnawed at her lip, glancing back at the road. “I’m sorry…” she sighed, unsure of what else there was to say.

“So am I…”

By the time they reached the nearest village it was already nightfall.

(Y/n) had changed into some travel appropriate clothing, examining the fresh stitches on her arm as she cloaked herself in her werewolf pelt. She strapped her sword onto her hip, resting her whip on the other before she slung her pack of belongings over her shoulder.

Kuroo helped her out of the wagon, biting his lip as she refused to meet his gaze. Just as (Y/n) turned to walk towards the closest tavern, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist as Kuroo pulled her against his chest.

He held her in a tight embrace, minding her shoulder as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. (Y/n) didn’t hesitate to hug him back, trying her best to hold back her sobs as she gripped his cloak.

“You don’t have to go… you don’t have to leave me…” she sniffled, knowing full well he had made up his mind.

“I do… I have to…” he sighed before slowly pulling back. Kuroo gently wiped her tears before placing a slip of parchment into her hands. “This is a map… I marked the area I will be building my new home. It’s beside a lake my family and I would travel to in the summers… If you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for my transgressions- really forgive me… I will be there waiting.”

(Y/n) unfolded the map, studying the markings and instantly recognizing the terrain. Kuroo delicately took her chin between his fingers, staring deep into her eyes as if he were trying to commit them to memory. (Y/n) leaned up on her toes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“Until then…”

(Y/n) clutched the parchment to her chest, allowing her tears to flow freely as she watched the covered wagon grow further and further away from her, until the darkness of the night hid it from her vision.

—————————5 years later——————————–

Kuroo sat at the edge of the lake, staring at the full moon’s reflection in thought. No matter how much time had passed, his mind always wandered to (Y/n).

Was she well? How far had she travelled across the country, nothing but the clothes on her back and the sword on her hip to her name? Did she find community in the village he left her at and stay there? Had she found love again?

Maybe she grew to forget him, never forgave him and had a family of her own now, continuing the (L/n) line.

Despite the pain that such thoughts brought, he always found himself smiling at the pleasant memories they had together. Of course his guilt led him to believe the bad outweighed the good… but for what those few moments of true happiness they had together, they had loved a lifetime’s worth.

The vampire’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a horse approaching his residence, the rider clad in expensive smelling armor that led Kuroo to believe they were a knight of some sorts, possibly sent to investigate the mysterious man that lived at the edge of the forest beside the lake.

“Whoever you are, I don’t want any trouble,” Kuroo sighed, “I would just like to be alone with my thoughts for the night.”

“That’s a shame… here I was thinking I could keep you company.”

Kuroo’s eyes went wide. He whipped around as the rider dismounted her steed, a fine werewolf’s pelt draped over her armor.

Kuroo stood up from his spot, slowly taking in (Y/n)’s appearance as she stood before him, just as beautiful as the day they parted. He slowly smiled, this time unafraid of revealing his fangs to her as tears of joy dripped down his cheeks.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle softly as she returned his smile and approached the larger man. She reached up and gently wiped his tears before taking his hands in hers.

“I told you I would come back…”

———————————————————–

Tag List: @iwaxme​ @bb-noya​ @lydzisanerd​ @vventure​ @gemini-writes​ @ochacostrange​ @yams046​ @tokyoghoose​ @madireyn​ @global---weaboo​ @achoohq​ @ardorwrites-hq-mha​ @dracq​ @osamusamusamu​ @steggy4ever​ @rienin​ 

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty 

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it?  Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing:  My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup​.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on?  Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.  

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

[lideria]

Wayfaring. | Winter.

➥ characters: genderneutral!reader, mark, johnny, jaehyun, yuta, taeyong, haechan; to be added

➥ genre: apocalyptic!au (apocalypse based on the game “the last of us”), very much angsty, kind of action-y, sad, sometimes fluff 

➥ warnings: violent themes, blood&gore (detailed depictions), gun use, mentions of killing/m*rder, mentions of s*icide, depictions of corpses, swearing, zombies ofc, i would like to guess that that’s it but please contact me if there is anything i need to add, and as always English is not my first language so if there are any errors, please excuse me!

➥ word count: 19.3k

➥ summary: every little thing you had, had been built and preserved in the pool of nothingness. and now, you lost it all.

➥ author’s note: !!PLEASE READ!! hoping after all this time that i’ve not posted this doesn’t get taken off the tags. after much thinking i decided to make this big story a series, because i’m pretty positive the overall product will be over 60k words. this is the 1st part and there will be 3 parts. to make it a bit more meaningful, i’ll be releasing the winter part now (in winter for where i live), spring part in mid-spring (possibly around april), and summer in again, around mid-summer. the playlist will also be revealed then. i am hungry for feedback, any and all is much appreciated! also, i’m not over tlou still haha fu- there’s also going to be a taglist since the updates will be so slow, so please drop by my asks if you like it and i’ll gladly add you to the taglist!

➥ taglist: @nct-writers

i hope everyone enjoys this, have a great morning/day/evening/night!

The night was freezing cold.

You walk through the streets of a mix of stone and wooden buildings, lights mostly dim because of the scarce population. Most of the people were at the city square. They were laughing and dancing the night away as groups of people sang for them with the old, occupied instruments that belonged to who-knows-who all those years ago when all of this first started. ‘This’ as in survival of the fittest, as some would say. And from what science could explain, a fungal infection that took over the brain and body that eats away at your tissues until it has completely taken over your motor functions and skin, and can spread its spores to others freely. An infection that could basically ‘zombify’ and fungi-ify people.

That is what everybody who has experienced the outbreak day would tell you, at least.

Being born into it is apparently easier, that is what the older adults tell. Because people have it figured out, there are communities like the one you are in; nobody has to roam around alone and lose so many people in the process. You did not agree to that. Nothing was easier, except for maybe gathering the knowledge of handy survival skills.

Perhaps living in a community was easier, as well. You loved it. You specifically loved your community. The stone and wooden houses, the olden cafés and restaurants, actual electricity that was not a thing outside of the gates, fairy lights hanging across porches and roofs, kids and bicycles around, horses, elderly people. Schools. A whole cinema and market places. People who were hunters, people who were guards, people who were wanderers, people who were recruiters; people who had the luxury of just being parents or students or more. And people, perhaps after seeing the world fire up and fall apart, were filled with love towards each other. Compassion, respect; a lot of things that the outsiders did not have. For the most part, of course. Evil was still a thing even within the community.

You smile at the children hurrying towards the square with a few apples in their hands, laughing and skipping around with joy— one of them waving at you as they pass you by. You wave at them as well, chuckling at one of the boys’ claims on how he will make a run for the sugar in the cafeteria so they can caramelize them.

This is why you love it. Even though it is hard.

Just as snow starts to fall from the sky that was clear with visible stars just moments ago, you take your last turn and make your way to your destination. The light shines from their porch and emphasizes their house as you pick your pace up with your boots that are crunching the asphalt that is too old for its own good, cracked and overgrown with the unkempt vegetation.

And surely enough, he is there. You cannot see him clearly since his silhouette’s too dark with the light hitting from behind, but there is only one person who can be as tall in that household even when they are doubled over.

Not making eye-contact even once as you approach the house, you take big strides through their garden and get on the porch. He does not turn to you and opts to stay silent, still doubled over with his elbows placed on the somewhat high fence. You do the same and let out a huff; a laugh too airy and low to be considered one. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Johnny smiles, still not meeting your eyes. “I freaked out.”

“Over a kiss?” One more huff. “Sounds nothing like the Johnny I know.”

“Yeah,” He nibbles on his lip a little, and smiles at their neighbor whose kitchen window is just across their porch that is grabbing a glass of water in greetings. “I just don’t like the idea of kissing someone and having it not mean anything anymore. Feel like I’ve passed that stage.”

Your eyes lock on a star in particular when he turns his head to look at you. “Reasonable,” You let out nodding your head. A witty smile creeps up onto your face at that second, and you turn to look at him also. “I guess it comes with growing old.”

That makes him giggle and playfully punch you on the side of your shoulder, prompting you to let out an ow, motherfucker, because he is too strong for his own damn good and he seems to never realize that. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You brush him off, massaging the side of your shoulder, the smile still on your face. “Tell me though, was the kiss good? It looked good.”

His brows furrow in unfiltered concern. “You watched me kiss?”

“Well if you just adhere onto someone’s lips like they glued you to each other in front of the bar I’m trying to get a drink from, Johnny, I’m kind of obligated to see it for like a second at the least.” He laughs at your ramble and breaks the furrow of his brows. As if he is defeated, he nods at the end a little. “It was amazing.”

“Oh so it’s like that,” You lean into him, hardly containing your giggle. “What does that mean?” He asks back with his own smile still on his face, clearly amused. Your eyebrows furrow this time albeit not seriously. “You damn well know what that means.”

Johnny sighs. Long and deep. Then, he speaks. “I love you, you know. You’re the best annoyer I never would’ve asked for.”

At that you chuckle, letting your shoulders shake with the force of it. “Good thing they didn’t ask you then.”

He does not say anything after that for a while. The two of you stand in silence, you looking at the stars and him looking at the street— or maybe the overgrown plants, you do not know. He fiddles with his calloused hands slightly, and it is only then that you realize that the house is much quieter than how it usually is. His parents must still be at the square, even though you have not seen them at all that day.

That night, to be more honest. During the day it was not really like you could see a lot of the folk.

Johnny must have somehow read your mind, because he speaks up again with only a heavy huff. “I heard about this morning,” His gaze is directed at you again. You break your smile and lean further, letting your head drop lower to the fence as you sigh yourself. One of your hands instinctively go to your face and to the spot where everything aches right on your cheekbone, tracing over the few burn scratches you got when you fell onto the ground. “It was nothing.”

“That wouldn’t have been believable even if I hadn’t known you.” He stands upright then. You see his hands come into your vision before they pick your arms off the fence and force you to straighten up as well. He inspects your face for a bit, tracing your red spots and scratches with his fingertips, and frowns. “Sometimes I think you’re a bit too careless.” Johnny mumbles just above a whisper, making you smile. Not particularly with happiness or being flattered, but something rooted more from embarrassment. “You say that a lot.”

“Yeah, because I want you to come home in one piece.” He takes his hands off of your face. “So you can finally get it on with Jaehyun.”

He immediately receives a shove to his chest and full on laughs at that, watching your pissed off face that is rather scary for anybody else. After years of knowing you ever since you first walked into this place only with another survivor, coming from a smaller settlement that went to absolute chaos, Johnny could not ever fear you. Fear you in a respectful sense, yes, absolutely. Because he has seen what you are capable of doing outside to survive. And in actuality, it is not the capability that made him fear you in that respectful sense; it is that he has seen you melt into the nature of it all, sometimes losing yourself in the things that surround you and the things you are feeling. Johnny has always differentiated himself from everything, so seeing that was what made him fear you.

The very same things made people fear you, as well. A lot of people stayed away from you, which always made him feel bad. He found it extremely admirable that as a teenager you were able to look for a settlement without any guardians and with only a companion, even though your earlier settlement was not too far from the city. At the same time, he could not fear you knowing how you can get with people when you care about them. He had learnt about it all first-hand when he was the first to approach you at the grey and distressing identification center after you arrived, after his parents encouraged him to ask you over for dinner, after visiting you many times at the lonely dorms and helping you fall asleep by tiring you out with his jokes and conversations, after helping you move into your own place when you were old enough, after going on patrols with you and much, much more.

“You’re disgusting, does anybody ever tell you that?” Your annoyed voice almost echoes to his ears after the many shouted singings and overall shouts he had heard that night. “The word you’re looking for would be ‘teasing’ and I just know it’s on the way. That relationship is long overdue.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice interrupts your bickering, and when you turn to the direction it is coming from, you see Yuta just behind the fence. He climbs up a bit and hangs off the railing, not fully climbing onto the porch. “Hey, man. Why don’t you just come to the porch?”

Yuta holds a hand up and waves it around, and both you and Johnny fear that he will fall down with only one hand on the fence helping him sling over, so you both take a step towards him in a hurry. But he does not fall and places his hand back. “I’ll just go home. I’m very cold and kinda drunk.”

Johnny mumbles a we can see that under his breath, but he cannot say it louder because Yuta points a finger at you, prompting you to take another step. “You are patrolling with me tomorrow.”

You finally get a hold of his arm and Johnny takes care of the other one, so now his feet are planted to the ledge of the porch and you two are basically holding a whole grown man up on his feet. That does not hold you back from complaining, though. “What, why? I was out just today.”

The drunken man shrugs. “Don’t know why you, but I think I saw Jaehyun sign your name up with us.”

A closed-mouthed snicker comes from Johnny at Yuta’s words and you snap your head at him, looking into his eyes, warning him not to do the very thing he is doing right now and to shut up about it afterwards. “Fine, I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

The knock on your door wakes you up the next morning.

Groggy a little from drinking the night before, and from the soreness of your face, you are not the happiest when you open the door up to greet Yuta and Jaehyun. They are standing on the thick snow that has covered the ground overnight, all equipped up and ready to go. The two of them look noticeably more content as well whereas you are just there basically ready to beg them to let you sleep some more. Actually, ready to beg them to leave you alone altogether.

You could really use a day off after falling face-first to the concrete yesterday. It has been long since you have had a day off anyway. Lately it was either you were going out on a patrol or sweep, or you were training the new recruits and the volunteers. You kind of did not remember the concept of sleeping in at this point.

“I would say good morning, but your morning looks far from any of that.” Yuta says in an annoyingly bright tone, and then he points at your face. “Your face didn’t swell up. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s magical.”

Your fingers reach up to your sore cheekbone once again. Yuta is all true, there is no swelling up although it hurts so bad still as if you had not cleaned it up, when you did. Multiple times. “Just come in. I’ll wash up and grab my coat.”

They walk in when you hold the door open for them and scoot to the side, and make their way to your couch, plopping down on it without any care. You make your way to the bathroom in silence and quickly wash your mouth and face, only bothering to change your clothes because you see a change hanging over the shower cabin. After doing so you hurry over to your wardrobe in your room and grab your coat along with your gear, and make your way to the pair of boots you had been wearing for quite long. You ask your question while you are struggling with putting them on. “Why are we going out anyway? I thought every spot was clear.”

“Someone said that the crops are dead already outside the walls,” Jaehyun answers. “Means the winter’s coming faster and harder. And that means herds may come in faster. Taeyong just wants to make sure nothing’s out of control.” Which does make sense that him and the council would decide on something like that, especially after the chaos that was a couple of years ago. Uncontrollable increase in infected meant uncontrollable increase in herds moving around, and that meant uncontrollable fullness of areas, which meant hunting for supplies were almost halted, which meant there was a serious shortage in supplies. “Plus, we’re running low on medicine. So if we find any on the way,”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod as you let your foot fall after tying the last knot. “Is it only us three?”

“No,” Yuta jumps at the question, almost. “Donghyuck’s coming as well. Said he needs to let off some steam.”

“Why?” You chuckle. He looked dandy fine last night at the square, warming himself up by the fire and chatting and laughing with people. “I heard they fought with Mark.” Jaehyun, once again, answers.

“Again?” Grunting as you wear your coat, you zip it up before opening the door and holding it out once more. The boys stand up and walk towards the door. “Why can’t they keep their stuff to themselves?” You laugh, dearly hoping this fight is not another one feisty enough to keep them from talking to each other for months.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jaehyun mumbles, and waits for you to close your door before starting to walk with you. You smile at the close proximity he keeps with you as you two walk behind Yuta, following him to the stables near the big metal gates through the lively streets.

Donghyuck is already waiting for you when you arrive. He complains about his horse being taken by someone else first thing when he spots your group, prompting the stable staff to laugh behind him, presumably at the fact that he is not complaining that he will be going out for a patrol in the freezing cold, no, but that he is complaining about ‘his’ horse that is technically not his being taken away. He does not really bother to greet you as well. It is a common theme with him, so you do not take offense.

Once you are handed your horses over to you, you make your way to the gates, holding them from their reins— just in case if they ever get freaked out from the sounds the gates decide to make.

You spot a familiar face at the gate. Walking over to him is basically an instinct. “Hey,”

“Hi.” Mark smiles at you, and pets your horse on the nose a little.

Mark is important to you.

He is the person that has accompanied you on your way here after your last settlement got raided by a large group of people that belonged to a community called Nox— the largest community ever established after everything went wrong with the world, and the most developed, as well. Their recruiting process was very disciplined, they had spread all over the country in years and mostly aimed specifically for the big cities, which allowed them to have plenty of resources and people with ‘greater’ professions (like doctors, scientists, military officials, agents, anything that was deemed to be handy in an apocalypse) in their communities.

That had been what happened. It was supposed to be a recruitment, but once people denied to be a part of them and stood up for themselves, they did not like that. At least the branch that they had sent out did not like that.

Your settlement was up in flames by the time you and Mark made it out of there. The night had brightened up as if it was the morning.

Then, it was a month full of almost-dying. The two of you had been out of your settlement before, but not for long periods where you also had to look for some place that would take you. Infected wanted to get you, and if they did not, it was the people. Sometimes they would take you in for a short while, letting you use their resources before changing their paths and letting you go with a bit of a help; maybe weaponry, maybe food, maybe medicine.

Mark and you would have to find hiding spots and places to sleep, and a lot of the times you would just make do with sleeping under a vehicle in the cold in unpopulated areas. Although hard to believe, those spots were one of the least visible and most secure.

The two of you had saved each other perhaps countless times from dying. You were not friends before you ran away from your settlement. You did not exactly know a lot about each other beforehand, only acquainted as a familiar face you would see on the street. Yet when you ended up together, you cared about each other so unexpectedly much.

After you came to the city, though, it had changed a lot. They put you on schedules and dorms and houses that mostly did not go with each other, so the communication had broken— except for slight communication through Johnny who was your middle ground with his role of being a mutual friend. The sheer care you had for each other had stayed the same, though. It would have been difficult to let go of that.

“What happened to your face?” Mark asks and instinctively reaches out for it, making you hiss when his fingers come into contact with the sore red spot. He immediately retracts. “I fell.”

His brows furrow as if he is not believing it, so you laugh to calm him down. “No, I really fell. Planted face first onto the concrete.” That makes him chuckle, but his brows are still furrowed. “Of course you’d do that.”

Mark takes a deep breath. “You have everything you need?”

Someone shouts from behind, one of the watches. “Herd patrol, open the gates!”

“Yeah, I do.” You answer him, and he smiles a bit more reassuringly. “Be safe out there. Let me see you from the gate when you come back.”

There is the screeching sound that the gates do whenever they open that would surely attract some infected if there were any of them around, so you could only hope there were not. Your hold on the rein gets tighter when your horse gets a bit agitated from it. “I’m coming back and you know it, Mark.” Smirking, you step on the foot hold and mount onto the saddle.

He says only one thing before he lets you go. “I do.”

Outside the gates could have been just as pretty as it always was if it was not for the thick snow that coated everywhere and made it hard to travel.

Underneath the thick cover of snow would be overgrown grass and wild plants and flowers that definitely were made to not be natives of the land before any of this had happened, but were now claiming their home to themselves and growing freely without any control. You did not know what most of the plants or flowers even were, even though they had taught you back in school— but you knew you would never be a farmer or a wanderer. You knew you would never have to rely on that knowledge so giving up on it was pretty much an instant thing.

Above the snow, though, were pines and willows thriving in the humid cold. Corkscrew willows, narrow leaf willows and glaucous willows were painting the very much white and grey scenery some lighter shades of green and pink, glistening with the snow sitting on them when the silver but blinding sunlight hit their surface.

You were pretty much on watch the whole time as the possibility of a herd passing through occupied your mind. There were the occasional wildlife passing through the valley, mostly rabbits, dogs and squirrels, and the occasional deer. They run around, sometimes passing under the horses or too close to them and scaring them a bit off. It was nothing that you could not take care of though.

Through a mutual agreement, you go to the town first since it is a good distance away from the city still and is one of the places that is sure to have any signs of a herd if they are coming in. That was because there were not a lot of traces of the infection since there is no people that still live in that town, and the infected would just roam through to potentially find a host.

Some of them would just die on their own from the cold and spew out spores in hopes of reaching something. They usually did not.

When you are in the Western-looking, red and brown brick-borne town, you divide the sections and go your separate ways. You probably would not have done that had the entrance of the town been crowded, but it had not been anything close to that. Yuta insists on his advice for all of you to do everything as quietly as you can just in case, and you all seem to agree on that, considering this is only a patrol and not a sweep and you do not have that much ammo.

The South of the town was mostly empty to your delight. Definitely more crowded than how it usually was this time of the year, but nothing you could not take care of. You did not even have to waste too much of your ammo taking out the infected that were already there— ones mostly freshly infected. Runners, who could still see you and who could still run and who still looked like humans except for their blood covered mouth and hands. They looked alive. They grunted, they made humanly noises, they twitched in their place. It almost looked like whoever they used to be was still inside them and was trying to fight that damn thing off.

It made your blood go cold at the thought every single time.

Once you are done with the infected you could see so far by the help of your trusted stealth skills and dagger and only some of your ammo, you check on a couple of buildings that were on your list that had not been explored yet. But after being open for anybody to come and loot year after year, there was not much that you could find. Some rubbing alcohol hiding away in a stash of unusable supplies, some canned food that were very suspiciously still not out of date, and a few more things. Nothing too useful.

Within a bit over a couple of hours at the least, you make it back to your meeting point at the main street of the entrance, the supplies stacked behind your horse and on the board she was equipped with that would help her in being able to drag everything comfortably. To your relief, everyone is already there, and there are no infected in sight. “Anything useful?” Jaehyun asks, and you shake your head.

“I could get some rubbing alcohol and some gas for the generators, but that’s about it.” Yuta nods at your words. “Same here— except I found this stash of ammo and some meds, but I didn’t take any of it.”

Donghyuck glares at him with an obviously visible amount of anger in his eyes, which makes Yuta further explain himself. “I don’t want to mess with them if they’re a trespasser. I’ll give it a week, and if it’s still there then, I’m just gonna dive in because the prick had some good stuff in there.” He sighs. “I also left a note, saying you’re kind of fucked, friend, because the herd’s coming. Told them to head down to the river following the valley and that the place with working lights and big metal gates would welcome them if they’re smart about it.”

Sometimes Yuta could be extremely innocent, wanting to believe everyone is good, but he had something about him where most of these people he left notes for would actually turn out to be decent people that would join your community. So you could only hope whoever this was would be the same. “That is so sweet of you, but I think some of the herd is already here.” Donghyuck says, and all of you turn your heads to him. “You know the hotel half of it’s said farewell? It was flooded with infected. Of all kinds.”

“Sounds like a fucking dream.” Jaehyun murmurs, kicking around the snow a bit with his boots, looking down. You lay a supportive hand on his forearm. “Sweepers will be lucky though. Some of them are loaded with stuff— backpacks on and everything.”

But his words still hold a heavy weight to them, because these poor souls just did not survive for as long as they planned for. And it makes you wonder, wonder if they were alone or in a group, moving or not moving, had a family or not, had friends or not; what was their original plan? Did they even have a plan, or did everything just happen when they were hidden away in somewhere?

“I found a safe, like a whole dark room,” Jaehyun says. “Inside an apartment. I guess they were a pharmacist or a doctor or something— there are a lot of bottles and boxes of medicine and compounds. And I hardly think they belong to anyone at this point because the door lock was literally rotting away.”

“You think it’s okay to take?” Donghyuck asks Yuta, who nods promptly. “Let’s not take all of it just yet, though. Leave it for the next patrol or the sweepers, they can get the remainder later.”

And then he clears his throat. “Why don’t you two go ahead?”

You two. Jaehyun and you.

Before you know it, you are already sent that way and are trotting your way down to the apartment with your horses. The apartment is definitely not close to the meeting point, especially had you been on foot, but with trotting your way down it was much easier to access. You see the infected Jaehyun has taken down, and again, most of them were Runners; the only explanation you could come up with was that the actual herd had had a feast in another settlement or an area ridden with survivor groups, and since they are Runners they can move faster which is why they are already here with the cold. Basically that they are the herd before the herd.

You dismount when you arrive at the brick and brown, dirty looking building and follow Jaehyun up the stairs that by some miracle do not just collapse, watching him easily open up the doors after having broken into them.

Like he said, the room is there, mostly dark but only lit when its door is open and light spills in through the shutters, and it really is packed with medical supplies.

“I randomly inspected some of them, most of it’s not out of date yet.” You nod at him when he looks at you. “Okay.”

But something genuinely pisses you off. It has been pissing you off for some time, so the only thing you can do is confront him when you are alone. “Jaehyun,”

“Yeah?” He kneels onto the floor and starts inspecting things again, placing some of them into the bag he had grabbed from the side of the saddle before you made your way in. You kneel in front of him and sigh, looking down at his hands and spotting the slightly scarred knuckles. Probably from subconsciously pushing on doors while breaking in. “I know it was weird a few nights ago because everyone was around, but it’s weirder right now because you have a thing where you go awkward and quiet when you feel that way,” His eyes bore into yours. “And I really can’t stand that,” You let out an airy chuckle, and he kind of smiles as well. “So either kiss me like you mean it next time or never do and let us stay as friends.”

It was supposed to be a basic thing.

Jaehyun had kissed you a few nights ago at a movie screening. He had asked you to watch the old sci-fi movie with him, and had waited for you in front of the cinema, stuck between the crowds of people of all ages. Throughout the movie you had just whisper-chatted back and forth, almost none of your attention on any of the scenes even when they got louder. The topics of your chats had been lighthearted and fun as well, gossiping a bit about your friends and telling each other about funny encounters you recently had with people around the city or outside. Sometimes the chats were about the movie, with questions of what would you do if you were living in that universe instead of this one, which one would you prefer and more, debating on the questionable answers; throwing your dried and seasoned corn at each other if either of you thought the other had absolutely ran out of any sanity.

After the screening he had just asked you if he could kiss you as if it was the most normal thing he could ask, saying he could not wait any more, and you had let him because the mutual attraction had been there for too long and you wanted him to kiss you just as much as you had been wanting to kiss him.

But he had gotten shy about it— crowds were never Jaehyun’s thing, and that was fine. The thing that was not fine was how he acted around you for days after that, quiet and somewhat cold and awkward, when you were okay with it all and had expected him to make a move last night at the square.

He breathes out a laugh through his nose and looks down, playing with his hangnails and the traces of the rein that is left on his fingers, not deep but definitely visible still and a bit pink around the outlines. He smiles under his nose, you can see it because the lines of light that hits his face illuminate the side of his lips that is curled up, and when he picks his head up and the lines hit his brown eyes, you are smiling too.

Because Jaehyun places his hand at the back of your neck and kisses you.

Firmly, with care, and like nobody else is there— there is nobody there, but this time it feels like even if there were people he would have been fine with it. He lets you place your hands on the spots between his chest and shoulders, and lets you pull him further down with ease, spreading his other hand that is holding you on your back to give you better support. He opens his mouth first for you, maybe to show he is meaning this and he means so much more, and you give into it. That goes on for a while with hands roaming wherever they can. You only come back to your senses when his teeth scratch your bottom lip.

He stops when your hands push against him lightly. “Any longer and Yuta will never let this die down.”

Nibbling on his lip with his teeth, Jaehyun huffs a smile and nods. “He really won’t.” And he leans in again, only pecking you this time.

Johnny and his predictions that gave you the bravery and encouragement to do these kinds of things could go fall face first onto the concrete.

The rest of the patrol and getting back to the city go almost seamless, except for the fact that you had to pass by a couple of groups of infected— some Runners who had spotted you and alerted the Clickers (one of the older stages of infected where the infection has taken over most of their skin and has made its way out, taking over their eyes and using echolocation with the clicking sounds that comes from their throats) with the sound they made. They caused a bit of a hassle, but nothing you could not take care of; not with Jaehyun’s quick bow skills as you galloped through the occupied areas of the valley and all of your leftover ammo. “You’re losing a lot of arrows, don’t you think?” Donghyuck asks Jaehyun, shouting a bit out of breath since the galloping motion is taking a toll on him.

Jaehyun pulls the reins to himself harshly. “Yeah,” His horse halts without any discomfort, and you see him from the corner of your eye before he is left behind. “I’ll meet you at the gate!”

And he starts galloping to the opposite way.

If it was anybody else, any and most probably all of you would have started screaming some sense into him. But it was Jaehyun. Whose way of doing things outside, although stealthy, was very impulsive. So you do not take your gaze away from the road ahead of you, locking your eyes on the city just now visible as you make your way down.

It is already dusk by the time you are at the gates and the watches see you, asking where the hell Jaehyun is and offering to open the gates when Yuta tells them he is collecting his arrows back from a small area, so he should be back any minute. All of you agree that you do not want the gates to open before he comes so the noise does not attract anything more than it needs to.

Just as you expect, the missing person of your quad comes sooner than later. A proud smile is on his face as he goes on about being able to get back five of the seven arrows he had used, waiting for all of you to make your ways in before walking in himself.

“We have some gas and some meds,” You tell the watch who is there the second you walk in, to unleash the supplies behind your horse. “With plenty of infected on the side.” Donghyuck adds, too upbeat for the news he is delivering. One of the gatekeepers is quite mortified to hear that which is why he feels inclined to add more to his words. “Not a dooming amount, but we definitely need a few sweeps. It’d be worse if the herd caught up to them.”

“Why don’t you just go tell that to Taeyong?” Mark cuts in, and you can immediately tell how irritated Donghyuck gets. His face gets red, his eyes drop and squint, and he completely forgets about getting off his horse which all of you do at that point. “Oh would you look at that,”

Mark tries to hold a snicker in, you can tell, because his lips curl inwards. “It’s almost as if that’s not exactly what I was about to do. Fucking asshole.”

Mark finally gives in then, letting his shoulders shake when he greets you, giggling. He tries to check if you have any bites since it is a procedure he needs to do, but he cannot do it effectively with how much he is giggling— which was fine, because he could very clearly see you did not have any bites. None of your clothes were torn, and your face, hands and neck that was not covered up was just very visibly in quite okay condition.

“I’m having dinner at Johnny’s tonight,” You tell Mark as he lets go of your hands, making him pick his head up. “Just saying.”

“I’ll see if I can pay a visit.”

You smile at him and make your way over to Jaehyun, letting him put an arm around your shoulders and walk away with you, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

He does pay a visit.

The night is pierced through with Mark’s laughter when Johnny’s mouth drops open. He stops mindlessly strumming his guitar when it takes over him. “Dude, I’m telling you,” He says between his laughs. “They didn’t even look at each other when they were leaving, and somehow they were all lovey-dovey by the time they got back.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny nudges you rather hard in your side, and this time you are snickering along with Mark just at the sight of his face. “You called me creepy when I knew all along.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Johnny. I apologize for not crediting you enough on your talent of predicting relationships.” Your smile dies down a little after that, and your voice goes a bit quieter with the confusion. “Well I don’t know if it’s a relationship yet. It just happened, sort of.”

Johnny shrugs at that and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him on the couch with one of your legs dangling over and one of them propped up. “That’s fine. You guys can let it brew for a bit more. Just test the waters.” A breath of a chuckle makes its way out of your nose at his words and how the high you had felt a few hours ago had crashed down into this weird oblivion, but Mark nods in agreement.

You do not see it, but Johnny smiles down at you while you fix your eyes on the photographs on his wall. Some of his, some of his parents’, some of his newborn days— the final days just before the infection started taking all over the country and the world. There are a few with you and Mark, too, a couple of them looking downright awkward with Mark and you too numb to the friendship he was offering you after coming to the brink of death maybe tens or maybe hundreds of times, and another couple of them where the photos are just blurry with how much you were laughing and it made steadying his parents’ old camera harder.

He turns his head to the opposite side, facing Mark. “You got any sick raps, Mark?”

“What is that question?” Mark howls out, laughing his chest off like he always does. “When you say it like that I don’t wanna rap ever again.”

But he does, because Mark is like that.

Johnny and you do your best in hyping him up, shouting and howling and springing in your place to the beat of his lyrics. You two let him rap until he really does not feel like it anymore, and you listen to him when he goes back to strumming his guitar, softly singing some things every now and then. So quietly that you almost do not even hear it.

The night goes on like that. You just lounge around, Johnny between you and Mark, cozy and warm.

If there was anything about them two, it was that they made you feel normal somehow. Which is maybe why you cherished them so much, and what the three of you have.

Unfortunately, you wake up early once again in your own room in the morning even though you do not have any reason to.

There are some upsides to that when you have the day off, as much as you hate it. You get to take a shower with all cold, yet much appreciated water, and properly change your clothes into new ones after a long while, to make a breakfast with what you have stored away in your cupboards, and maybe even do laundry if you had any leftover homemade soap.

Sometimes you paid a visit to the dorms, checking up on lonely recruits if there were any that you had grown some kind of attachment to.

That morning you do all of that, too. You get your hair and body feeling and looking all clean, eat somewhat of a nutritious breakfast that is much better when compared with just going with an all empty stomach, change into some of your newest clothes that Johnny and Jaehyun had gifted you once after an outing for hoarding. Except while you are making your way to the dorms just to check on the newest recruits, you stumble upon a group of people lining in front of the entrance to the stables.

Your interest peaks when you spot Johnny, who is writing his name down on the board at the gates that open to the place. You hurry over to him as best you can in your still sleepy state. “Morning,”

He hears you but does not bother to turn his head to look at you, knowing you would come to stand next to him. “Hey.”

As expected, you halt when you are there. You look at his name on the board and his signature along with the date, and you know for a fact he is going out. “Sweep?”

“Yeah,” He lends the pen to the person next to him, and moves out of the line, prompting you to move away with him. “Signing up last minute. Taeyong and Yuta can’t make it out today, so.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows, and he shrugs a little. “Yuta’s needed at the training grounds today, and who knows what Taeyong has to take care of.”

He watches you as you sigh, truly tired of it, but the inner conflict is louder than any type of exhaustion you could possibly have. “Well I’m coming with you.”

When you try to walk into the line he steps in front of you, and puts a stop to whatever madness you are planning. His hands physically stop you as well as he places them on your shoulders. “No you aren’t,” Johnny’s voice is firm, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. “You need a day off. Your whole face looks purple with the cold, the lack of sleep, and the scar— and you look awful.”

He smiles then as if he had not just dragged the way you look all over the floor. “Just go and relax. Maybe spend some time with Jae, hm?”

You bite down on the insides of your lips and nibble on them, and furrow your eyebrows at the squeeze of your heart. “Just do me a favor and be careful. There are a lot of Runners around,” One of your hands come up half-bothered to point at the people in the line. “Tell that to the group as well.”

There is a silence that lasts a couple of seconds, but then Johnny pulls you in for a hug. “You know,” He mumbles. “If you actually talked to more people they’d like you better.” He knew what you would say, that you do not like the stares that people throw at you anywhere and everywhere, and that it stops you from approaching them. So, he stops that from happening before it can. “I’ll take your horse if that will make you feel any better.”

Stepping away from him, you smile and shove him a little. “Take my horse if it will make you feel any more secure, and send her back if your ass can’t make it.”

“Will do.”

Dusk comes, and the sun sets.

Some people do not return that evening, and Johnny is one of them.

Supposedly, his whole group is missing— which is a good thing, because it is not completely uncommon that people camp in some sort of a hide-out if the infected in the area are too much for them to handle with the amount of people they have and they think it is better to wait it out.

Which is why, although bitter, there is hope inside of you.

His parents are distressed when Taeyong comes to tell them the news, and they remain just as distressed afterwards if not more. Whenever you see them, you cannot help but notice how their faces are overborne with concern. Their brows are always furrowed, their mouths are always pointed downwards in a frown, their eyes always glazed over with what looked like thousands of thoughts racing all around, and the wrinkles on their faces are deepened in some areas with the weight and tension.

You grow distressed and restless as well, as hours— days pass. The concept of night and day loses its significance because you are too distracted during the day when you are supposed to be training the recruits, and too uncomfortable during the night rolling all over the bed without a drop of sleep in your eyes.

And it must be not only you that is feeling that way, because Taeyong knocks on your door in the dead of the night a few days after Johnny’s disappearance. When you open the door his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks a lot paler than he usually is, his eyes red all around.

He gets straight to the point. “You, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark. I want you to search for them while another group goes for a sweep.” His voice breaks at some point because of how tired he must be feeling and how scared. You nod slightly, the tension pulling and burdening your face. “Okay.”

After your mumbled, quick and short answer Taeyong turns right back on his heel and walks down the stairs of the porch. You cannot bring yourself to close the door just yet when you see him, a friend of a friend but a figure as protective and wise, walk away with his guards clearly down. “You should try and get some sleep,” You advise after him, even though you yourself are suffering from the same problem he is. “What you do matters.”

Taeyong does not slow down, and is out of your sight within seconds after he leaves your backyard.

Next morning, it is as if you had done a mutual agreement between the four of you, because you are all by the stables with the slightest hue of sunlight.

No one is smiling or looking content in any way or shape, but no one is agitated, either. The most healthy thing at that moment is to force yourselves to go numb altogether and you all know it.

With so much as some collective huffs you write your names down on the board and sign in the hand-drawn boxes next to them, being able to see all of the missing people’s names that were out just before you— it was never a pretty situation. The stables are kind of empty from all the horses that are missing as well and it feels weird to not be able to go out with the horse, your horse that you had considered a companion for years on end.

But Anubis, the black horse assigned to you that day, was a good compensation. He was surprisingly comfortable with you from the get-go.

The stable you were in got too empty after all of the search and sweep groups took their horses with only a couple of them left behind, and before you knew it, you were on them and stationed in front of the gate. Handwritten documents were in Yuta’s hands mapping out yesterday’s group’s sweeping locations.

And as he said just before you all mounted on your horses, no one would be parting ways that day.

When the gates open, you immediately start galloping behind the sweepers— they collectively had more ammo than your group, and they were going in the same direction for a while, so they could be some sort of a shield for you if the groups had somehow started moving much faster all of a sudden. Your group would be heading to the settlement just a bit further away from the town you had gone through yesterday; most probably what used to be its business district if any of your predictions were true. The sweepers would be going to the town, figuring the groups that were saturated behind the town must be at its downtown now.

The way up the valley is rather empty, which is almost more unsettling when you think of how many people are missing.

Six, to be exact, counting Johnny.

You try to focus on different things, like how your backside hurts as you gallop upwards and Anubis pants under you. On the fact that he is a rather strong horse and you had never noticed that when anybody else was riding him. How he is maybe the most elevated horse you have ever had, and how his back is very uncomfortable to ride on even with a saddle. How he is very enduring considering he does not slow down in the slightest even after the valley starts getting a little rough, not falling behind any horses and even passing some of them if it was not for you that took him back under control.

It helps you, focusing on him, because you do not want to focus on things that might get your guard down.

The sweepers part their way with you at the point they need to, making a turn for the northeast once you enter the town, letting you pass straight through. Without any goodbyes because you have officially entered the danger zone.

And you truly have, because there are Runners around with not as many Clickers roaming through in the visible distance where the sweepers are headed. You can only internally wish them good luck.

It takes less than an hour to get to the probable business district that is filled with concrete and glass covered buildings unlike the town, overtaken by vegetation (and snow) that has washed over its blues and greys and beiges and the financial personality it once had— again unlike its brown and red brick counterpart.

All of you make your horses come to a halt once you enter the environment, again, just to make sure there is as little noise as possible. Dismounting from them and taking the reins in your hands is an instinct. “Where do we go first?”

Yuta looks down at the papers with Mark’s question. His fingers trace over the words until they find what they are looking for. “Well,” He huffs, placing a hand on his nape with a wince. “They were going to the law firm, the bank in southwest, the city hall and they would meet at the conference hall. They must be around these areas if we’re lucky.”

“And if they’re lucky.” Jaehyun says under his breath, but you hear him loud and clear. And you have a feeling that everybody does.

Yuta drops his hand that is holding the papers and sighs. “The bank’s the farthest one, let’s go.”

They are not at the bank.

Not in the bank, not around the bank, not in the subway station under the bank where there is a hide-out in one of the conductor rooms, not inside the surrounding business buildings all of which have of their doors opened whether it is one of the back/staff doors or the front entrances as if it is an all-you-can-get open buffet of places to roam around for the infected. When in actuality, your people’s strategy is to close the doors and lightly barricade them after coming into any contact, trying to keep as many infected on the roads so it is somewhat easier to wipe them out by narrowing their moving space. It also helped indicating whether there had been any recent trespassers at all, because most people not acquainted with your settlement would not bother with closing the doors behind them as they lost themselves in all the possible places to hoard.

And it all just means that there must have been trespassers recently, making the infected harder to find since they were free to go into the buildings, which must have messed up with the sweeping.

It does not feel right at all.

The law firm which is a rather small building is of no help as well. No alive, normal human is inside, not in any of the five floors that you have to clear out a little or around, and once again the doors are open. All you can find are supplies lying around the fifth floor that are definitely from the city’s storage so you know that they must have stayed for some time there at some point. You take them back. But there is nothing more.

To be truthful about things, none of you had your hopes up about the city hall. It was an extremely open space and was most definitely not the safest in this situation, nor the most resourceful place to hide or camp in anytime— or to hoard things with nothing but once-fancy tiles all over the interior and no leftover supplies from passing groups. However, they would have gone there to check if there was anybody hiding away, because people (especially in groups) who passed through did that since it is a quite distinctive and low building in between all of the higher buildings for those unfamiliar with the area. They would have brought them back to the city if any of them were there. So it does not surprise you when you find the city hall empty as well, except for the sea of infected that swarm the grand entrance to the hall that make your eyes widen and immediately shut the door close when you first open it up. Plus holding onto dear life pushing against the doors with Jaehyun when some of them are attracted to the noise and make a run for it.

Sweep season was the worst season.

Through a mutual agreement, you barricade the doors a little (a lot) tighter with fire truck hoses that have long been detached from the abandoned truck between the hall and one of the high-rise buildings that most probably was sitting there since the outbreak day, where fire trucks were not only used for the countless fires that started especially in the traffic, but also to rescue people stuck in upper floors of buildings that were taken over by the Runners.

There is no way the infected trapped in the hall can open the doors through layers upon layers of a thick hose wrapped and tied around the handles of the entrance, at least you all would like to believe that.

When your heart rate picks up is when you spot a building with its visible doors closed on the way to the conference hall. “Wait.”

Everyone stops, prompting their horses to do the same as them. The guys look at the direction of your gaze, and they all seem to come to a realization. “Do you think-?”

“I think there’s no reason we shouldn’t.” But Yuta does not look too keen on it, so you have to agree further. “There’s something obvious here, and I think it’s an objective point when I say that.”

He nods at that and clears his throat, looking up at the building for a split second. “Is it okay if you search with Mark? Jaehyun and I’ll be here, I kind of need a second thought as I plan out the mapping for if they aren’t here or at the conference hall.”

“That’s fine.” You assure him, and nod your head at Mark. “Let’s go.”

Inside the building is eerily quiet, but brightly lit with the afternoon sun shining through all the glass. You have never been in this building before, at least you do not think so, because the lobby does not ring the slightest bell to you.

There are bodies of infected that are taken out lying all around. They paint the light creme flooring red with their blood, but it is comforting. Because it is for certain that they have been here, at least.

A fire exit door is all that you are looking for, or a staff room that could possibly lead to the stairway, but it takes a bit of an embarrassingly long time for you two to spot anything in the seemingly open-spaced, bright lobby. You come to learn a bit after starting to walk around that the entry to the stairway beside the elevators just outside of the oval lobby is also blocked with something on the other side.

“There’s a crack in the elevator doors,” Mark suggests, and although ladders are the one thing you hate the most, you agree to take them to the upper floors.

It is so dark and humid inside with years upon years of unventilated air, the smell of rust and rot is absolutely disgusting, and you fear that the years-old ladders will break any second with both you and Mark’s weight on them. Not to mention how tiring climbing up a ladder can be for your arms and legs when you hold onto the thin and flimsy metal waiting for the other to separate one of the elevator doors, most of which are rightfully blocked.

On one of the far upper floors, though, there is no blockage, and you can swing yourselves onto the hallway. Which is scary to be honest, especially when you are all this way up and if you miss anything your way down will be met with an old, hard, rusting top of an elevator on your back.

But god bless the planners (maybe their souls) of this place, because the ladder is close to the opening enough that you can swing onto the floor without too much hassle. Neither of you slip after jumping down onto it.

“Do you think,” Mark dusts himself off as if it would help with anything, takes a deep breath in his tired lungs, and rephrases his words. “Do you think they came all the way up here through that?”

“Maybe they blocked the stairway and the doors,” You suggest instead, and it sounds a lot more like the option the two of you would like to believe in. “Right half yours left half mine?”

“Sure.” He answers, and the two of you go your separate ways on the big office floor.

A few doors open to the empty, messy office rooms and you check through the drawers for anything worthy to take back with you even though there is not much of it. One of them provides you with some scissors and lighter liquid, which end up being the most usable things you get out of them. Some doors do not even budge with whatever is blocking your way.

But there is a room at the visible end of the hall where the door will budge, but will not open.

You resort to using your shoulders to break into the room rather quickly. There is not any particularly loud sound coming from behind the thick, polished wooden door, and something about it being left secure but still accessible made you think there must be something behind that door that is useful. Maybe a stash of actually usable supplies or much preferably, anything that leads you to your missing people.

The door opens with your fifth push, and you hear the sound of a broken lock clink on the ground.

You also hear the shriek of a Runner who jumps you immediately after being attracted to the sound.

With the force of your push you have basically thrown yourself into the arms of the Runner which is never a good thing or in any way close to an ideal situation, and you have to duck away by kneeling lower and throwing yourself to the sharp opposite side of where the infected is facing to make sure it does not grab your arms. You take a few steps away but it is just as fast as you are, so you have to use your quick wit and draw out your gun in the blink of your eyes, shooting it in the head— impractically unable to care whether there were any infected on Mark’s side or not because it was either you or whoever they were with the shock and the pace of things.

The mess of a creature falls down with a slump, your heart absolutely racing but also dropping— because as you look down at it you can see that you know who she used to be. You were not friends or even really acquaintances, but you know for a fact that she lives in the city. So you turn back around to the open-planned office with your fast approaching panic and adrenaline.

Which is when you see it.

Johnny, slumped onto the floor, sitting with his legs spread out. Johnny, whose ankle looks broken. Johnny, who has his gun in his hand.

Johnny, who has a bite mark on his exposed right arm where orange-salmon colored fungi is growing out, extending upwards to his shoulders and neck.

Johnny, who has a hole on the left side of his chest, red spatter over the wall behind him, slumped on the floor with fungi growing out of his arm ready to grow all over his glowing skin until he grows into the wall and starts letting out spores.

Johnny, dead.

You do not know if any air makes its way into your lungs. It surely does not feel like it. Your ears ring and your eyes go dark with purple spots all over your vision and you get dizzy and nauseous, but somehow, you stand.

“Mark!” You shout out, surprising yourself, calling and alerting him when you can already hear his fast approaching steps thumping on the floor at the sound of the gun fire. Before barely a few seconds can pass he barges into the room with his gun in his hand but stops when he sees you frozen in place. Then, he follows your gaze.

Even from the side of your eye, it is obvious he flinches. “What the hell happened here?” His voice is not above a whisper.

You look at the less familiar face lying on the ground, and its shoulder. “The bite marks look similar.” There is no sense of stillness in your voice as you speak. “I guess they just locked themselves away,” Teeth grinding tightly, you let out a silent and choked sob, because you cannot believe any of this bullshit your eyes are seeing.

Mark takes a few steps towards Johnny and picks something up from the ground— a paper— making his way to you. But he stands on his own while he reads with his slightly shaky hands, and crumples the paper once he is done skimming over it. He sits next to you on the hard, carpeted but otherwise concrete floor. “They got bit while they were clearing out the basement,” His lips wobble a bit, but he quickly covers it up by placing his fist over his mouth until it goes away. “Locked themselves in here so they wouldn’t harm anybody.”

“If the trespassers didn’t go through the district leaving every goddamn door open, none of this would’ve fucking happened.” Maybe you were trying to blame it on someone, or maybe you really were mad at them for their ignorance as they went through the city. You did not know for certain, although it felt a whole lot like it was the latter. Because they would not have had to camp here anyway. There would not have been infected in the buildings in the first place.

You sit down where you are standing, looking at Johnny.

All you know is that this was unfair. If anyone deserved surviving long in this world it was Johnny. He was physically strong, and he had a good mental attitude, and he was so purely good that the last thing he deserved was to die the way everybody did, alone and scared and not wanting to turn into one of those things. He deserved to die of old age if anything after living a happy and healthy life, continuing to help lonely recruits like you and Mark— doing what he likes to do until his very last days. Training, falling in love, teasing and pestering his friends whenever and wherever, giving advice, making people’s stomachs hurt with his smooth and not-so-smooth jokes, doing photography as long as that camera of his would survive, spending time with his family and not moving out of their house even though there are available houses until the time comes when he absolutely has to.

But he cannot do any of those things anymore.

He also cannot be there for you or Mark anymore.

Your trembling hand comes up to spread over your eyes and your fingers rest on your temples, and you hitch a breath in. “What are we going to do?” You ask Mark with your just as trembling voice as if he would know. The question is not necessarily about this particular moment in time, but about the far future as well. He lets it linger in the air as his eyes switch between the two bodies.

“Well,” He clears his throat when his voice shakes violently and looks at you, his hands playing with the carpet, picking and tearing away. He chooses to ignore the far future, at least for now. “We’ll have to tell his parents first.”

The hand on your face falls down. You look at Mark, and he notices how wide your eyes are. He knows you cannot comprehend it by the way your eyes look, looking right through him with your shell shocked, hundred-yard stare. “No,” You whisper. “Mark, I can’t.”

“That’s fine,” He looks into your eyes with his own that are glazed over, and nods reassuringly. “I can.”

But it does not feel better. Instead, it makes you feel worse immediately, because you feel like you at least owe Johnny and his parents this. It makes you feel ashamed that you will not do even one thing about it, because you do not think you would ever be able to look into his parents’ eyes again; knowing you joked about it before he left and you were too unbothered to go out after him before you were ordered to do so. There is nothing in your heart, mind, or body, that tells you that you can do it without completely losing yourself in the process.

The two of you collect yourselves and come back to your senses as quickly as you can, because you knew Yuta and Jaehyun would be on you if you were any more late.

Mark helps you in carrying the bodies down the stairs which is an extremely tiring task considering you go down several floors, and the mental toll it has on you. The two of you unblock the fire exit door and push the metal drawers and organizers aside, opening the door and carrying them to the lobby.

Then, you head outside. Yuta and Jaehyun do not spot Mark and you until you get closer, but when they do, their brows immediately furrow. “We need two bags.” You mutter, feeling your chest stutter with the words. Their faces fall at that very second. The grip Yuta has on his map that he is holding tightens and his knuckles go white, and he sighs with utter disappointment. Knowing Yuta, it is at himself.

“One of them’s Johnny.”

The muscles on their faces relax only for their eyes to widen.

It takes a few hours for all of you to get back to the city once you put them in bags and start riding, not galloping nor trotting; deciding not to look for the others knowing it would take a longer time to get back and not wanting to stress out anyone in the city further. A night group could easily replace yours.

When you are at the gates the sun has long set. Questions arise once the gates open and the bags dragged by the horses are seen. You and Mark answer them since you are the ones who found them in that state, where you found them, which building, which floor, was there anything written around them, any symbols, any human spotted around the area— anything useful.

You give them the answers still in a daze, and let them take Anubis from your hand. Without waiting for anybody you start walking, on the way to your house.

Except, you do not end up in your house for a while. You wait in the dark, just around the corner leading to Johnny’s house and you watch Mark deliver the news to them. Although you cannot hear what he says to them, you can see it clearly with the light on their porch. How Mark delivers the news with his hands linked in the front, fiddling with his fingers a little as he looks at their expectant faces. How Johnny’s mother hugs into his father once she hears the situation, both of them shaking with sobs. How Mark’s shoulders drop and how he tries to console them, but stopping when Johnny’s mother does not take a step away from her husband and he waves at Mark presumably wanting some space and time alone to themselves.

You watch as Mark nods and leaves, and you head to your house. Hurrying into your backyard, you swing open the door and kick off your boots. Not bothering to put them in their place, you take your bag off your shoulders and the only reason that you do not let it fall onto the floor is because of the guns packed inside. Then, you make a move to take your coat off.

And the damn zipper gets stuck.

With a sigh, you force it down. But it does not budge. So you try again, but it will not move. You wait, nibble on your lips, give it time to change its mind: maybe it was frozen and it needed to thaw.

But when you try again, it just does not want to move down.

Pissed off, you try to strip out of the coat. But that proves to be almost harder. Everybody wears thin but warm, lightweight coats to make their movability better, especially outside. But moving your whole arm to yourself and then down while holding the two layers of clothes, one thick sweater and the thin coat on top of it was undoable— because then they were fully limiting your movement.

And you had to take it off. You need to take it off.

Your hands then start picking and grabbing at the coat trying to rip it off, and that is when your door opens without any alert beforehand and Jaehyun walks in.

“What are you doing?” He whispers and walks over to you near your couch. You only stop struggling when he stands in front of you. “I can’t get it off, it’s stuck.”

He notices how you will not look into his eyes in the dark, and he notices the tears streaming down your face that you probably are not realizing. “Okay.”

Jaehyun walks over to your bathroom and takes a bar of soap you have. He walks right back to you in complete silence and dabs at your zipper with the sleeves of his hoodie up and down to take off the excess moisture, and starts slathering on the soap along the zipper until its sharp corner has visibly softened and the zipper looks white with the coat of it. He then fumbles with the zipper for a few seconds before it slides right down.

It makes you feel a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and you sniffle, only then realizing that you are crying after feeling the wetness in your inhale. Your lips waver as you try not to let a sob out. “There you go.” He mumbles as he helps you out of the coat and places it on the arm of your couch. He picks your boots up and places them next to the door.

“Let’s wash your hands.” He suggests, and you look down at your hands, seeing the blood from that Runner.

Jaehyun is almost late to hold you once your face violently scrunches up and you start fully letting it out, shaking with choked sobs.

Because your crying does not subside for several minutes, he ends up going to the bathroom again and comes back with a couple of wet rags, soaping one up and cleaning your hands delicately before wiping them off. He leads you to your bed then and lets you lie down, pulls the cover up, and kneels down in front of your face. “Try to sleep, okay? Force yourself to if you need it.”

You nod at him, and let him leave after he smiles at you.

His eyes had looked empty, which was always the worst for Jaehyun.

The next morning you hear your door lightly opening in your sleep, and being carefully shut. A few steps make their way over to you slowly and the empty side of your bed sinks with a somewhat loud huff.

Whoever it is waits for a bit, lets you sleep a little more even though you are not deep in it. That goes on for a few minutes before your bed sinks closer to your back, and it sinks a bit less than before— an elbow.

Fingers start running through and playing with your hair. It must be Jaehyun. And you are right. “Taeyong let me and Donghyuck take over you and Mark’s work for a couple of days, so you don’t have to go in today.” He softly whispers, and you nod slightly. “How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” You ask in hopes of distracting yourself from the thoughts and views that race over your eyelids, and open your eyes when it does not exactly work out.

He answers with a slight smile. “Your lashes fluttered when I walked in.” You feel him place his chin on your shoulder. “You slept any?”

Gulping, you shake your head. “Just got some shut-eye.”

“That’s okay.” Jaehyun whispers. “Better than keeping your eyes open. I’m happy you got some sort of rest.”

He sighs and takes his hand off your hair then. “Yuta wants to see you and Mark eating so he’s preparing breakfast. I have to leave, but head out soon and try to eat for me. A few bites is all I’m asking for.”

“Okay.”

Porridge and bergamot tea.

The breakfast Yuta has prepared for you and Mark, with some dried plums and apples inside that he fried on the pan a little. It smells nice, looks less so.

There is no one to greet and welcome you initially when you are in front of his house that is on the same street as Johnny’s. But it does not matter because you barge in to avoid being seen by his parents, taking big strides from the start of the street. You hear the stir of the wooden spoon inside the metal pot, and the fruit that spills in while you make your way to the kitchen.

Mark is sitting at the island counter of Yuta’s kitchen with his elbow on the surface, his head leant against his hand.

Yuta turns away from the cream colored counters and his electric stove once he hears the footsteps. “Morning.”

You see Mark’s head only tilt a little, but not fully to the extent that he can look back at you. “Hey.” Your voice does not really come out, so you clear your throat. Yuta’s face falls a little at that. “Is there tension in your throat?”

“Yeah.” You sit down next to Mark. With your hands placed on the surface, you turn your head to look at him but his face is covered by his hand and arm. “There’s some powdered ginger you can take in the pantry. But you should try and relax your muscles first.”

With that he pours the porridge into the bowls he has taken out for you, and serves them with a slight smile on his face. Then he pours the hot tea inside two small jars and hands them out as well. “Dig up.”

It does not feel right. The atmosphere is too heavy, but you know you will not get out of it unless you really eat something, so you pick up the spoon and take a spoonful of the meal, gathering a piece of everything. Letting it steam for a few seconds as you watch it, you contemplate putting it in your mouth because ever since yesterday you feel this sickness in your stomach. It is more fragile than it ever could be on any given normal day.

Even so, you take a bite. At first it feels like you will throw up at the sheer hue of sweetness in it.

But you chew, and continue chewing, and you do not throw up.

“I heard you’re going out again today.” Mark mumbles, which makes you perk up, looking at Yuta. His eyes widen in the slightest. “I am,” He says, his eyes looking boringly only at Mark.

You chuckle drily. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Taeyong wants me there. He’s going out too.” His explanation does not calm your heart, which feels like it is being squeezed, at all. You turn back to your bowl and continue picking some porridge. Just to avoid his gaze.

Yuta does not say that he would come back or that he would be okay. Because he knows that those words do not hold any meaning to them whatsoever, especially now. “I have to go soon, so you should better be finished with these before I do. I’ll let you drink the tea by yourselves.”

Mark and you start eating in complete silence. Mostly because Yuta is watching you eat and it is extremely uncomfortable, and it would be awkward to just talk as if he was not there.

It makes you both rush your meals as well. The bowls empty out in a matter of minutes and your stomach feels heavy, though in all honesty, it was a pretty good breakfast Yuta had prepared for you. It was a fact that you would not have bothered to cook or even to prepare something that did not need to be cooked.

When the two of you are done with your meals, Yuta smiles and takes the bowls away to wash them quickly. Mark tries to intervene and says that Yuta could go out and he would take care of the dishes, but Yuta shuts him right up saying he needs the distraction anyway.

You can see Yuta’s hands shaking slightly.

It is always difficult to know for sure what he is feeling. But if you had to give it a shot, you would say he is feeling either anxious or shocked, or both. He is the type to live his emotions very secretively, and you could never recall an instance where Yuta’s grief was noticeable. Maybe only when he had lost one of his recruited, young survivors on the way back home. That had changed him as a whole; losing someone (especially much younger than him) under his responsibility.

He leaves once the bowls are washed, not looking at your way or telling you goodbye. You are simultaneously thankful and angry at him for doing that.

The bergamot tea is still steamy. It somewhat burns your hands when you put them around the jar to warm yourself up and start looking into the dark substance, looking so deep into it that you start feeling as if you are part of the dark liquid.

Mark clears his throat. “You’re wearing the same things as yesterday.”

That is true: even though there is nothing that you want more than to take them off and trash them to never see them again. But at the same time, there is something inside of you that does not want to let go of them. Even if it is just taking them off.

You look at the side of his face, and see him taking a sip from the jar. “Could you sleep?”

He shakes his head with a gulp. “No, no. You?”

The two of you make eye contact when he finally properly looks at you, and you shake your head as well. “I kept seeing it like a picture— like something projected at the backs of my eyelids.”

Mark nods, and that is it for a while. No one speaks for some time and you sip your beverages together as if it is a chore that you have to do, as if Yuta would see you two if you spill the tea into the drain of the sink and would come after you, trying to get done as quickly as possible so both of you could leave to be by yourselves. And it goes on until Mark decides to speak in a low voice. “They buried him early in the morning. His parents didn’t want anybody to see.”

Your eyes burn and the lump forms back in your throat because you can understand why they would not want anyone to see, but at the same time, you cannot. “Some of his older recruits left him flowers and letters, seeing that made me feel a bit better.”

You nod. “He deserves that.” And so much more. Despite yourself you smile slightly, and Mark joins in understandably grim, nodding. “He does.”

The day goes by extremely slow, yet so fast once you are back at your house.

You let yourself take refuge on the bed and do not move much throughout the day, trying to sleep. Expectedly, you are not too good at doing that. You toss and turn and huff and look up at the ceiling meaninglessly until you can no longer hear kids playing outside and the adults going about with their daily duties; until daylight loses all of its significance. Until you realize you have melted into this state of mind and have completely forgotten about your needs, using the toilet, eating, or drinking water.

Yesterday’s clothes are still on you. And you cannot bring yourself to change out of them, again, even though there is nothing in this world you want more than to never see them again.

The night would have not had any significance whatsoever as well if it was not for the sounds of hurried shuffles through the snow that were coming out of your room’s window at whoever knows o’clock. Before you could even show any type of physical response to it- whether it be surprise or suspicion- there were loud and hard knocks on your door.

It takes probably all of the strength you have in you to get up and walk to the door. You laze your way over to it and swing it open, rubbing your eyes.

You would have expected it to be Jaehyun, since he must have gotten done with his duties. But it was not him. It was Mark.

Mark, whose eyes and face were lit up with adrenaline. There is not a single emotion you can make out from the way his face looks. The world could actually be ending for all you know, or the community might have been getting raided.

You cannot make anything out from the way his voice sounds, either, when you hear him speak the millisecond after the door knob turns. “They found the trespassers.”

The look in his eyes- whatever it was, shifts into concern for a split second before he carries on with his words. “One of them’s the one Yuta left a note for, they were making their way over here when Yuta found them.”

Those words spark a light in your chest because of course. Of course they were the ones that caused this whole thing in the first place and it sounds stupid to you now that you had not even thought about them when you noticed the doors were open.

Which is because the doors at the nearer town were, in fact, closed while you were there.

Now it does not make sense. “Wh- how- that doesn’t make any sense. The doors were closed when we were out earlier.”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess they got the theme by the time they were there. Yuta told me about the whole interrogation,” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “They claimed everything before they could even ask the questions.”

“Do they know they fucking killed people?” You ask, and Mark flinches at the harshness of the words. However, he nods promptly. “Yuta told them. They said they were sorry-”

It makes you laugh at the sheer comedy of it. “They were sorry? That doesn’t bring them back or make up for anything.”

“Nobody ever said it does-” Mark defends, but you are too angry at them to stop. “You know how fucking miraculous it is to survive twenty five years- the whole ordeal, especially when you go outside frequently. His parents pushed through thick and thicker with a newborn baby just to get to where they are now, to give him a damn chance at life and this is how Johnny goes? Because of someone else’s stupidity and inconsideration?” Shaking from anger, you wipe at your eyes that have gotten a little wet while your blow-up was going on. You gulp and shake your head, feeling the tension in your jaws. “They should save their apologies because not even a billion of them,” Faster than lightning, you hold a finger up in the air in between you and Mark. “Would make up for a single hair of Johnny’s that got hurt nor for a single tear of his parents.”

Mark, your poor friend and companion, only nods a little. He knows how you get when you are angry, and he knows how fed up you must be feeling, and he can see how tired and out-of-it you look, so he does not talk. He knows that if he were to say anything you would spill words from your mouth you would either regret saying or would only upset you more, and he did not want that to happen.

Though, Mark did have to say one thing. A part of the truth that would concern the two of you. “They’re from the Nox.”

He watches your eyes slowly widen. In a matter of seconds, you look awake and aware as if you did get all the sleep you had lost the past two days within those few moments. You lean your shoulder against the door for support or from the shock, he cannot be sure. “What?” You whisper.

Mark shifts from his place, the tips of his shoes touching your socks as he leans in much closer- most probably to drown his voice out. The neighbors should not hear more than what they might have already heard so far, even though you had been conversing in low tones. “From the headquarters,” He whispers, looking into your eyes. “They came to recruit people from this area. The others are with them.”

Your brows furrow with the oncoming nerves. “So there were more of them and they just joined?”

After a second’s hesitation, Mark nods. “Seems so.”

“Why would they?” Upon the question, Mark takes a deep breath and pushes his shoulders back much like a school kid being questioned on a topic they have not studied, and looks at the side. The yellow lights from other people’s windows hit his face as he nibbles on his bottom lip indecisively. When he turns back to face you, the lights still illuminating the right side of his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Mark does not get surprised when you chuckle humorlessly. “Well I think it’s pathetic to run with people who’ve killed your own.”

It is quiet for a few seconds as he nibbles on his lip some more, but in the end something- that looked much like defeat- washes over him before he just nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Maybe five seconds of quiet before he speaks, looking down at his hands where his fingers are picking at scabs formed over his knuckles that seemed to be there every living day. “Um,” He swallows the words that would come after that at first, but he thinks, and thinks some more. It takes a couple of seconds, but he does decide to speak up. “You know what, nevermind. Maybe later.”

You get a bit taken aback but he cannot tell, because your brows are still furrowed a bit angrily and there is no other emotion over your face. “Do you know where Jaehyun is? He said he’d come straight after his duties.”

Mark’s mouth opens but no word leaves it. “He uh,” It closes and opens once again, his eyes widening a little. “He’s- he volunteered,” He clears his throat and looks down. “He volunteered for filiation.”

“Of what?” Your heartbeats have gotten significantly faster, stronger and heavier, but you cannot say if it is worry or the oncoming anger. “The trespassers’ base. Taeyong was looking for someone he could trust and he-,”

“Amazing,” You chuckle and shuffle on your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s amazing.” Mark sees you lower your head and your tongue swipe over your bottom lip as you smile bitterly, and when you raise your head back up, he can see the unshed liquid shine with the moonlight. “Why does nobody act responsible?” You whisper, and he sees the falter in your furrowed brows- the stutter.

But Mark knows you better.

He knows this is not how you truly think. He knows you out of all people want to move at the front, he knows you want that the most, and Mark knows you blame yourself for the things you are (in his opinion, rightfully) unable to do. He knows it is because you are scared. He knows you are terrified. Because it has been long, so long since either of you two have even gotten close to properly surviving outside and in all honesty: through these years of routinely going out for shorter periods of time and not having to dwell on things out of the gates, you two have grown accustomed to the feeling of homely safety. It really had felt like nothing and nobody would be able to reach you or anyone around you, even if it felt like it just inside the walls. The bubble of routine reality hidden in the much chaotic and unforgiving reality that was this community had slowly but surely implanted the expectation of seeing your loved ones get back home as if it was just a shift of a pre-apocalypse job- what they called 9-to-5.

And Mark knows this is almost like a reset, and that the sense of security and whatever this place has brought you feels like it is gone. He feels like it too.

Mark hates to see you this way. He hates to feel this way. He hates that Johnny was the one who had to go out of everyone, because he was the best of you.

But he knows he should take care of who he has left. In whatever way he can.

When he looks at you, the concerned look in his eyes from a few moments ago is back. “Have you slept any?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He nods as if he expected the murmured answer. “We’re going back to duties tomorrow, you need to sleep some.” Mark sees you chuckle just once and hears you mutter an ‘Easy to say.’ while tilting your gaze down, but he interrupts you by pointing inside, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Do you want me to help?”

“Would you?” He nods, the genuinity somehow visible from the way he does, and steps in gladly when you get away from the door and open it wide enough for him to walk in.

It had been long since the last time he had helped you sleep. It was a few years ago when you were on your own, having just separated from a group of survivors the two of you had become somewhat attached to. Their goals with life were much different than Mark’s and yours- two mere teenagers whose only wish was to not be much farther from home in hopes of reuniting with the people you had grown with.

Who could ever know that a little over three weeks of traveling on foot would already be too far from home, and too impossible to ever cross paths with? A miracle, really, ‘for kids your age’ (as people who were around the age of your parents would say).

Some nights the hopelessness and the feeling of never belonging to any group would take over you. Mark was the only person you could depend on, and you were the only person he could depend on. With how young you both were it was only natural that both of you had times where the cycle of hunger, loneliness, the paranoia of surviving and being infected, almost-dying but being saved, seeing the only person you depend on almost die but saving them, either being showered with love from other survivors or being hated for whatever reason, and getting left behind either way would get too much to deal with.

The two of you were camping overnight inside a completely empty water tower, warm and dark in the winter night- the last gift of the survivor group you had tagged along with had been an old map marked all over with safe and hopefully clear places to settle in. Plus the groups you should never encounter.

So he had done what he was doing right now. He made you lay down like right now, that time on the hard concrete and now on your kind of soft mattress that was slowly rotting away, knelt in front of you unlike in the past when he laid down beside you, started playing (more like softly scratching) with your hair and scalp because he knew it worked well to make you sleep, and sang in a low tone because he knew you loved it, and found comfort in it.

His voice sounds rougher than ever when he starts.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,” This song is much too familiar, and it is Mark’s favorite verse of it. It means so much to him, having been brought up with faith in a world he once stated he felt was ‘too far from it’.

“And I will dwell on this earth forevermore,” His voice is soothing and soft, even though you knew he preferred his rapping much better over his singing. “Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul,”

He stops a little to take a breath, an unnecessary one, yet heavy. “But I can’t walk on the path of the right because I’m wrong.”

Mark’s voice is working its charm- or maybe it is knowing you are not alone, you do not know. But your head was getting clouded and dazed with the sleep creeping up to take you over already. He, however, continues. “Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill,”

His voice cracks a little. “Called himself the savior of the human race,”

Through the cloud of sleep, you try to reach him. Only mentally, but you try to reach him. You wanted to hear him until the end. “Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said ‘How can you save the world from itself?’”

You barely make it to the end of the line, only hearing a glimpse of his sporadic whistling.

When you open your eyes you see Johnny sitting down next to your hand laid in front of your face, hugging the pillow. He smiles down at you, ruffling your hair for a bit. The room is dim- only the wall lights are on. The environment is mostly dark, even Johnny’s face that is much closer to you than anything. You can still see him pretty well, though, in the dim, warm yellow lighting.

His clothes are relatively clean. A few stains and tears here and there, but nothing unusual. Him and his parents’ ways of doing laundry were always superior to many others. You wanted to learn how but Johnny said you would have to come and do it with them once to properly learn once you are out of the dorms. Sometimes he would offer to do your laundry for you when the queues and waiting periods of the laundry got too long in the dorms- it was easier to have problems with water at a rather small place where a lot of people lived, and when they got their clothes really dirty almost every single day while getting educated on survival skills and agriculture.

His face is bright. His eyes are puffy just the right amount; he looks energetic. His smile is of genuine fondness towards you, and it makes you smile as well.

“Sleeping too deep?” He asks quietly. The dorm room is unoccupied excluding the two of you; your roommate had gotten a bad cold and was kept in the small hospital ward. You shake your head at his question but the yawn you let out contradicts with the motion. “I was just taking a nap.”

Johnny nods and looks down for a second, sighing a little before looking back at you and slightly raising his hand which held a tea cloth, showing off the little pouch. “Eomma sent some cornbread. I brought some dried figs as well.”

Excitement washes over you, and you take the cloth out of his hand gratefully when he holds it out for you. Unable to hold yourself back, you break a small piece off of a slice of cornbread and happily put it inside your mouth- giggling in delight when you notice the fresh corn taste and the fluffy texture. Johnny chuckles at your reaction and coos only a little.

His smile dies down pretty fast despite its brightness just a moment ago. Which is unusual for him, who likes to stretch his smiles out for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I lie down?” He asks and points at the pillow reluctantly. You nod and scoot closer to the wall, arching your back a little and tilting your head back to secure the tea cloth of snacks inside the small, empty vase placed on the windowsill. It operated as a whatever-holder: sometimes it was actual flowers, sometimes it was small jewellery or gifts you had gotten on your birthdays, sometimes the very occasional letter from Mark even though he was just two buildings down, but usually it was snacks from Johnny.

He lies down next to you and does not bother to get under the blanket, placing his hands on his stomach as he looks at the ceiling. You watch his chest rise and fall three, maybe four times before he can start speaking. “Did you ever observe one?”

“An infected?” He hums at your question. You look at the ceiling and try to remember a time you might have but nothing resurfaces. “Not really. Was too busy trying to save my ass. Or Mark’s.”

“You never went outside before the raid?” Johnny asks, quite curious. You shake your head again even though you are not sure if he would see it. “Not never, but we were in school mostly. It was high up in an apartment so it was the safest place. I did not have to worry much about them until we were older.”

An exhausted sigh makes its way past your lips and it is not only because you are physically exhausted. “And then we ran.” Turning your head to the side to look at his face, you smile. “And now I’m in a different kind of school.” Calling the dormitories a school was simultaneously a far reach and not. It was mostly to train people to not be shenanigans until they became adults, and to be responsible with their duties and communal living once they were one.

A hand laid on his stomach reaches out for one of yours and he holds it, squeezing in a way that could not be described as tightly but rather, strongly. In a way that reassured you and calmed you down, in the way that made all your past worth the present. “You’ll get to be a Wanderer soon enough. Just a few months more.”

“I just like the idea of having my own place,” You chuckle as you shrug, acting like being a Wanderer was the least of your interests. “A bathroom all to myself, a less shitty bed and having the freedom to walk around whenever…”

“Just make sure you don’t forget about us when you get your luxury.” He smiles and looks at you, and you smile back at him devilishly. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” At that, Johnny’s mouth drops open in surprise and happiness, but you cut him off before he can even start, playing your game further. “You see, unfortunately most people I consider friends in here aren’t peaceful, calm farmers or healers or-”

“Yeah, we all have a fucked-up liking of the outside,” He nods as he talks to himself, eyes slightly squinted. But he comes to his own rescue with a protest. “It’s not like anybody can blame us. Being lost in the old world is quite dreamy when there aren’t screeching mushrooms running around.”

It makes you laugh the way he addresses once-people back from the dead, even snort a little. It had been long since you had seen one. Young recruits, or recruits that basically were not at the age of maturity, were not allowed to go on patrols, research scouts, or sweeps unless it was absolutely necessary. From what Taeyong had told you the first time you ever stepped foot into the dorms and were told about the way things went around the city, it was to give people, especially teens, a chance.

A chance to live at least until the day they were considered adults.

“Speaking of,” Johnny’s smile dies down once more. He takes a big breath, and his chest rises with it, and he holds it there for a few seconds. When it is let out, it sounds sad more than anything. Maybe even a bit depressed. “When we were out on a patrol today with Taeyong, there was this small group of Runners at one of the checkpoints,”

He looks at you, but you do not say anything, so he continues. “So we were clearing the place out as we do, and I went upstairs while Taeyong stayed behind just to be safe. I went into the studio to write down the report,”

With that he turns his gaze back to the ceiling, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. “And there was this.. Runner, it- he didn’t hear or see me so I hid behind a table. But he wasn’t moving around, you know? Just standing at the same spot. It was very early stage, he had just turned. Maybe a couple of days ago, I don’t know,”

He starts fiddling with his fingers. “He looked around the same age as me, or maybe a bit younger. Wasn’t flimsy, didn’t look like he’d been starving- he just looked healthy otherwise. But as I looked at him and the way he flinched, the way his hands moved and his shoulders cramped; the way he grunted.. it sounded too human.”

There is silence for a second or so, but he picks his words right back up. “And his eyes- his eyes,” Johnny breathes, and the sound that comes from his nose sounds a bit too stuffed and wet to be normal. “They didn’t look completely empty. Not even meaningless.”

He looks down at his hands that are still fiddling, his lips hanging out a bit the way they did whenever he was sleepy or sad. Then, he nods a little, confirms whatever is going through his mind. “I think he was there,” His voice cracks and stutters. “Inside. Trapped and waiting until it consumed his brain whole. Trying to fight back as if it would be any help.”

“And I couldn’t help but think, as I shot him down,” He shrugs and shakes his head. “That I’d never want to be trapped in my own body and have to wait until I have no control over it, if it ever happened to me.” And he looks at you.

Johnny looks at you.

With his sad, brown, dark eyes. His empathy for the Runner and for his own self. He looks at you so deep, almost like he is frozen.

Because he is.

You reach out your hand to touch his arm, and find it to be extremely cold, and stiff.

He is gone.

You wake up breathless and almost shoot yourself out of your bed with the force you are sitting up. Mark is gone, and nobody else is there. You are completely alone. The sky is just turning a bit grey, signalling the coming of the morning.

Sighing, you try to relieve some of the pain in your jaws and chest; trying to forget the memory of Johnny that was now your nightmare. You had clenched up too much, it felt stiff everywhere. Now, your head was hurting too.

There is not a single drop of sleep left in you- even if there was, you hardly think you would be able to go back.

So you get up.

Walking to your closet in a hurry, you pick out some clothes in the dark. In all honesty you do not even know what you are picking, but it does not matter. There would be very few people outside at the dead of the night if at all, and you could not care less about how they thought your outfit was.

This felt like the only time you could actually visit him. You just wanted to be alone with him, and the silence.

Once you wear your coat you are already half outside. You shut your door as quietly as you possibly could in your hurry, which was undeniably a little loud even if it had been a reasonable time to leave your house, but it was not like people would care. Unless someone or something was screaming, nobody really cared.

From your house to the cemetery took around ten minutes of walking, which was a reasonable distance given how spread out this city was. How it came to be this big you did not exactly know. Johnny had told you sometime that the bigger series of stone buildings belonged to a winery- the wines would be fermented in the summer and then shipped out here in the fall to age before being sold, which was what his parents told to him. It made sense, because the stone buildings all had underground basements that were all connected, some of which were used as a hospital ward and some of which were used as a communal living space for people who did not really have families nor a role in the community like a Farmer, Wanderer or Sweeper. Basically for people who were deemed unqualified to have their own houses.

It kind of sucked, but then again, some people actually preferred being there. The director of the basements and dorms, this lovely woman called Sarwendah, had told you once that even though it was not the majority, some people found comfort in living with other people openly since it made them forget the reality of everything as long as they were in that bubble.

The wooden buildings were either built after the gates were built- which, the gates were built after the army claimed the zone to themselves at the start of the outbreak, whose control over the area for something around 11 years, Johnny remembered those times in his childhood- or they were the ones already built for the winery’s workers and their families.

Johnny. That bit of knowledge came from Johnny too, as well as many others.

And when you are in the cemetery walking through the graves, looking for his name and spotting it without much time passing, you see a silhouette standing right at the foot of the grave.

Who, upon walking closer, turns out to be Mark.

Who, also upon walking closer, seems to be fully equipped with bags and his gun.

“Why so equipped?” You ask, and it startles him, but he does turn around and watch you as you walk over to him. “You’re going outside to join Jaehyun?”

He clears his throat. “No, he got back,” There is a split second of silence that feels a bit too long in your confusion for how long it actually is. Mark rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath, lets it out, creating a rather long-lasting vapor. “But yeah, I’m going outside.”

“Where?” You ask further, and he visibly winces. He avoids the question to play with the stones around Johnny’s grave with his foot, nibbling on the inside of his mouth before mumbling. “I should’ve told you before but I couldn’t.”

Your brows furrow as a string is pulled at your heart with the suspicion and the piecing of things together. “What were you going to say?”

One more exhale, but this time sharp and clear-cut. Controlled. He looks at you, looks in your eyes, and tells you the words you would have never imagined he would. “They’re releasing the trespassers and I’m leaving with them.”

Everything kind of slows down at that moment if that is even possible with the lack of action-filled things around you. Shock, was it? Or utter betrayal? “I’m sorry?”

Mark takes a step closer to you and fully turns his body to face you, towering above you not so much with his height but more so with his body language. “They’re working on a vaccine. They trust what they’ve got in their hands and they’re traveling around recruiting people to guard the headquarters. They’re afraid someone might-”

It was all too much.

“Mark, what the fuck are you talking about?” You snarl, and it shuts him up effectively. Yet, after that, you do not say anything. You wait for him to explain himself and after a couple of overwhelmed inhales, he takes the opportunity. “I’m going there to work as a guard. They’re afraid of the possibility of someone stealing the samples, or worse, attacking the lab. They need every volunteer they can get right now.”

Anger.

Pure anger is what you are feeling, and it is indescribable. It covers you from head to toe, right to left, inside and out; it feels hot and yet, icy cold. “Johnny’s blood hasn’t even dried yet, and you’re leaving with the very people who caused his death?”

Mark looks taken aback. “Be sensible. They couldn’t have known about the doors, they’re the first group from the headquarters to come here in years. It’s life or death out there, and they probably didn’t have the time for details.”

You take a step closer to him as if it is possible, and hit his shoulder lightly. “How about you be a little sensible? How can you trust them so easily? What if they’re saying these just to recruit all those people- and to travel all the way through there-”

“They have a car. Takes three days.” Mark cuts in, which makes you chuckle humorlessly. “Okay, great. What if they just recruit you to use you as a scapegoat for when they encounter bandits? Or, like I said, they just recruit you to have more guards? The vaccine has been a word since forever, Mark, and we know it. It’s a stupid hopeless rumor.”

“I’m telling you, they have scientists and they have evidence-” Mark starts, but you cut him off. “Yes! But their people also raid towns, and these people themselves are inconsiderate enough to screw up our whole system and kill our friends along the way-” You are basically trying to make sense to him with your whole body, pointing at the grave and getting closer to him and looking at his eyes to make him regain some of his sense. Just enough to keep him here, where he should be. “How can you trust them with your own life when they’ve been so inconsiderate of the others’ time and time again? You walk out of here with them and the next thing you know, you’re dead, Mark.” You point to your left, which is the direction of the big gates where the trespassers must be leaving, as they need to leave under the Leaders’ watch.

He is silent upon that. It takes him a few moments to come up with the words he is going to say, and his eyes flicker around under the confused sunlight signalling the coming of the early morning.

But he comes up with them nonetheless. “I owe it to people and to him,” He points at the grave. “To do whatever part I can to end this someday. And if I need to go to great extents and forgive them, so be it.”

And with a determined gaze in his eyes you had never seen from Mark before, he says what he really thinks. “I’d rather die running after something I believe in than live with the shame every day.”

You understand.

Not him, but that he is going.

That maybe, he is already gone.

“You leave,” You look at the grave and bite the inside of your cheek before looking back at Mark. “And I’ll come looking after you.” You whisper.

He looks away and bites down on his lip, placing his hands on either side of his hips. And then, he shrugs, not even trying to think it through. “That’d be up to you.”

And he starts walking towards the left, leaving you at the cemetery.

For the first time, you are alone.

[everlarkficexchange]

EFE 2020 Prompt 10

Title: Stay with Me Just for Now

Written by: @booksrockmyface

Rating: M (sexual content)

Prompt 10: katniss and peeta are best friends who were in a friends w benefits arrangement in the past. now the hunger for each other is coming back. [submitted by anonymous]

Author’s note: Thanks to my bestie neighborhoodkitchenwitch for prereading. The title comes from the Hana Pestle song Need. Hope you enjoy the smut!

________________________

Peeta opened the messaging app for the twelfth time in five minutes. He wanted her. He wanted her very badly. But he and Katniss had made the decision to cut off their bedroom activities so many months ago. She said it was to focus on school, but he hadn’t been able to focus on anything thinking about all he wasn’t getting with her.

And they were still hanging out, which didn’t make any of it easier.

For her part, Katniss acted like nothing was amiss. They were friends before and they went right back to that once sex was off the table.

Peeta typed quickly. Come over? I’m bored.

That used to be how they communicated the need in the past.

Katniss sent a reply just a moment later. And what do you expect me to do about it? ;)

Why don’t you come over here and find out? ;P

Peeta continued to pace his apartment. His roommate was now more or less living with his girlfriend. Finnick only came back to wash his clothes.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Be there in five minutes.

“Hot damn!” Peeta rushed to clean up the clutter from the living room and then his bedroom. He was just finishing brushing his teeth when she knocked on the door.

He opened it and Katniss stepped in. “Didn’t need to clean on my account.” She took off her coat and threw it and her wallet on the couch.

“I didn’t.” Peeta protested.

She shook her head. “Your place is always a mess when I come over. You don’t think you have time to clean when you have so much else to do.” She took hold of his belt loops and pulled him closer. “Where are we doing this?”

“Well, Finnick is with Annie, so…” He gasped when her hand slid over his cock. He was growing harder by the minute and that just finished the process.

“Listen closely.”

He only managed a nod.

“The first time is going to be fast. The second time much slower. And I expect you to make me a huge breakfast in the morning.”

He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. His hands slid under her shirt. She lifted her arms up for him to take it off. He leaned down and nipped at her shoulder with a little growl.

Katniss laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I don’t need foreplay.”

“You always need at least a little.” Peeta picked her up and carried her to the couch.

He was definitely ready to go. And it was very rare that Katniss wasn’t. He reached for the button on her jeans, but she pushed his hand away.

“You get your shirt off first.” Katniss reached out and lifted his shirt over his head. “Damn! Have you been working out?”

“Yeah, actually.” He struck a muscle-man pose. “You like?”

“I do.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him down on top of her.

Peeta groaned. God, he wanted her. He wanted her right there and to hell if he made her come first. He could take care of that later.

But Katniss hated being second and he liked to indulge her. He unbuttoned her jeans and slipped his hand into her panties.

She groaned and pressed against his fingers. She was slick and he let out a soft curse.

“I need you to wear a condom.” She reached for the waistband of his pants. “My prescription ran out and I need to go to the doctor again before I can renew.” She released his cock and started stroking him slowly.

“I think I have some in my drawer.” He pumped into her hand. “Can we go see?”

“Yes, please.” Katniss rolled from underneath him and led him into his bedroom. She rummaged in Peeta’s bedside drawer and produced a single condom. “Someone’s about to get lucky.”

He took it and watched as she took the rest of her clothes off and reclined on the bed.

“Show me the rest of you. I bet that ass looks amazing.” She bit her lip.

He laughed and turned around, slowly lowering his pants to reveal his backside in all its glory. He flexed a little before he turned and headed the last few feet to the bed. “Is this thing even still good?” He examined the little package.

Katniss rolled her eyes. “It’s not been that long.” She snatched it from him and ripped it open. “Come here.”

Peeta groaned when her hand wrapped around him to apply the condom. “You’ll be the end of me.”

“Now, we can’t have that.” She took him into her mouth and he squeezed her shoulders before pushing her back on the bed. “You said quick.”

“I did.” She pulled him into her. “I was trying to relieve some of my own boredom when you sent me that text.”

“Oh, good.” He started moving slowly. “Tell me you miss this.”

“Mmm, why?” She dug her fingers into his back.

He leaned in and kissed her. “Because you came running as soon as I texted you.”

“Faster.” She took hold of his ass. “And maybe you’re right.”

Peeta pounded harder into her as all thought started to die away except the task at hand. He sat back and gripped her hips.

His breath caught in his throat as Katniss reached down to rub at her clit, her eyes locked on his as she did. Her other hand spread out against his stomach and she let out a low moan.

“So close.” He panted.

“Just please don’t stop, Peeta.” She begged. “Oh, god!”

“I’m there. Fuck! Sorry!” He let himself go.

“No, not fair!” Katniss whined.

“I said sorry.” Peeta removed himself and moved to the floor beside the bed. He grabbed Katniss by the hips and moved her to the edge.

His mouth replaced her hand. He very enthusiastically licked and sucked, squeezing her thighs. She gripped his hair and let out the most beautiful cries. He knew she was on the brink, so he did what he knew would finish her off in the most spectacular way. He slipped his fingers in her and stroked in time to his mouth on her clit.

She tightened her hand on his scalp and let out one final scream as her body started to rock against him.

Katniss eventually collapsed.

Peeta slowly kissed his way back up her body and then climbed up more properly on the bed.

She followed. They lay together in silence.

After a while, Katniss said, “I have missed this. I’m stupid. And I…” She looked over.

“You don’t have to say anything else.”

“I do.” She sat up and pulled him with her. She said in a rush, “I cut it off with you before because I was starting to feel bigger things and it scared me.”

Peeta reached up and cupped Katniss’s cheek. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you.”

“I know.” She turned her head and kissed his hand. “So…”

He grinned. “So…”

They leaned in as one and kissed softly. It quickly turned more heated and they stretched out on the bed again. Their hands roamed. Katniss spent a lot of time combing her fingers through Peeta’s hair.

Peeta’s hand came to rest on her hip. “Are you hungry?” He asked softly. “I made cheese buns this afternoon.”

“I love when you make cheese buns.” She rolled out of the bed and picked up her underwear from the floor and then snagged a shirt from his drawer.

He groaned. “You really are going to be the end of me, you know?”

“I definitely plan on it.”

He watched her walk out of the room before he pulled on some pants and followed.

[flipomatic]

A New World Chapter 17: Goals (1/2)

Author Note: Hi, I’m still alive. I spent some time going for podium in D4DJ and things irl have been blowing up lately. I’m still dedicated to finishing this fic. This chapter has been split into two chapters. Thank you for your patience and continued support!

Please listen to the first two minutes of Kiseki at the right time during Rinko’s section. You’ll know when. (link if you need it https://youtu.be/BXsp6qALjr4)

Summary: The members of Roselia ponder what to do next.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

________________________________________________________

Rinko sat at her piano, eyes shut, hands poised in a familiar position over the keys. Her fingers began to move, pressing the keys softly the same way they had hundreds of times before. The tune of Black Shout drifted through the room.

It washed over her, bringing a much needed sense of calm.

Ever since the meeting earlier, Rinko’s heart had been in turmoil. Well, she’d been worried before then too, but she hoped the band would be able to come to a solution. Instead, she left with a new question and even more to dwell on.

In her mind Rinko could hear the other parts that went with hers, the blend of the band’s oldest song. She could hear how their performance used to sound, how they used to fit together.

Their performance last week had been different. Rinko tried to remember as she played, to imagine the new sound of her bandmates that they presented on stage, but she couldn’t. Their sound had changed so much, she could hardly recall it. Even Yukina’s singing had morphed into something new.

Rinko opened her eyes, hands stilling against the keys.

She had been sent to ponder a specific question, to set a goal for the band. When Rinko suggested that they take a week to think about it, it was because she couldn’t think of anything. That had never been her role.

No, Rinko’s role had always been to create. She wrote songs and created outfits, all parts of how the band presented itself. Though Rinko herself lacked presence, she contributed to the band through her work and her playing.

She supported the band, and in turn she found a place to belong. Over the last three years Roselia had come to feel like home.

It was a home that was always moving, always seeking the next step. Together, they tried to achieve something until they succeeded. Now they weren’t, and they were slowly drifting apart.

That was why Yukina thought they needed a new goal.

It wasn’t going to be enough.

Rinko’s thoughts had been trapped in this cycle, of being unable to come up with the next steps despite being desperate to do so. She’d hoped playing their music would help her think clearly, but it hadn’t worked.

Her view of the band felt more out of focus than ever, unable to even imagine how they now sounded together.

Without thinking, Rinko again began to play. It was a different song, once much slower and quieter than Black Shout before it.

The opening notes of Kiseki rang softly from the heart of the piano.

They didn’t perform this song often; it didn’t quite match their usual image. Regardless, Rinko loved it. She still remembered when Yukina had given her the lyrics for it, more subdued than usual.

She told Rinko it was a, “Thank you for everything,” with an uncharacteristic pink to her cheeks.

The accompanying tune flowed from Rinko’s soul. She matched the words carefully, with a soft melody that she hoped enhanced their meaning.

When she first played the song for the rest of the band, Yukina singing the lyrics along with her piano, they listened in stunned silence.

As the piece ended nobody said a word, but even in the quiet Rinko could feel the emotion in the room. She could feel how close the band had become, represented by the song she and Yukina had created together.

Rinko longed to return to that closeness.

Surely there was something she could do to help, to restore the band to how they used to be. She grimaced as she hit the chorus of the song, pressing her hands harder against the keys.

Perhaps that was the problem.

They had all changed so much, even over just a few months. It was impossible to go back.

The song hit its peak, unrelenting in its pace. Rinko continued to play, with her emotions laid bare through the piano.

As the members changed, Roselia could only go forward. Rinko too had changed and grown, through her playing and her compositions. Instead of growing apart, they needed to grow together.

That was easier said than done.

As the chorus ended, Rinko’s playing slowed to a halt. This was where the others would come in, bringing the whole band into the song. She could hear it in her mind. She wondered how it would sound if they played it now.

She needed to find out. Sitting here at her piano, yearning for the past, wasn’t doing her any favors.

Even if she couldn’t find a goal for the band, there were other things she could do.

Rinko’s hands moved again, deftly across the keys.

The melody that emerged was a new one, something she’d been working on near the start of the semester. If everything worked out, this would be Roselia’s next song.

No, that wasn’t the right way to think about it. Rinko was determined to make this Roselia’s next song. It still needed a lot of work and lyrics to go with it, but she was going to make sure it was a success. This was how she would support the band and bring them back together.

This song would carry them forward.

Rinko needed to spend more time listening to her bandmates from now on, adapting to the changes in their playing. Then she would be able to compose for the new Roselia.

If she tweaked it for her bandmates new sound, for the new sound of the band as a whole, that would help them find their path.

Rinko was sure of it.

____________________________________________________

Ako often found that playing video games provided a good distraction. Whether it be from school work or band troubles, they did the trick. Sayo had once specifically told her that video games provided escapist entertainment. They were playing NFO together at the time. Ako didn’t really understand that concept; she just enjoyed playing them.

As Ako directed her character across a field of burning lava, it was slightly easier to not think about the band meeting they held a couple days ago.

It felt like the only thing she’d done since the meeting was worry about it, so she really needed the break.

For while, it worked. Ako teamed up with a few other players to do some quests. They saved a local village from a volcano by redirecting the lava, then had their celebratory party crashed by the culprit who made the volcano erupt in the first place.

The twist made for a satisfying quest line, with a cool boss fight at the end. Ako would definitely run it with Rinko again, when her friend had time. After, Ako said goodbye to her party members.

As fun as playing had been, when the screen in front of Ako flicked to black nothing had really changed. Her own smudged reflection stared back at her, far more tired looking than she should’ve been after a gaming session.

Without the flashing lights on the screen, her thoughts returned to where they were still stuck, to her friends disappointed faces as they sat around the table at the family restaurant.

Lisa told Ako it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t help but feel that it was. If she’d done a better job, this wouldn’t have happened. The drums were supposed to keep the band together, and she couldn’t do it. Now, it felt like they were on the verge of collapse.

Ako wouldn’t let that happen. She hoped that the new goal they came up with would bring them all back together. She just needed to come up with something good. She wanted to keep playing with her friends, in the band that she loved.

Ako pushed her chair back from the computer, stretching her arms and back as she rose from it. She didn’t like to sit and wallow.

No, it was time for action. Perhaps she would brainstorm best if she moved her body. That would at least alleviate the tension in her back, which still remained even after stretching.

With that thought, Ako pushed in her chair and stepped away from the desk. She started walking across the room, turning to come back as she reached the end of it. One hand rested on her chin as she wracked her brain for any ideas.

It took a few laps before she thought of something.

Ako paused mid step as an idea popped into her mind, perhaps they could work to perform overseas? That would be a huge accomplishment, even bigger than playing in Future World FES. Ako perked up, before sagging her shoulders as she continued to think about it.

No, that wouldn’t work. She sighed as she started walking again. Her bandmates were all too busy with university to leave the country; they would never be able to get that kind of time off. Maybe during summer break, but that was too soon. There just wasn’t enough time.

It would have to be something close by then. Future World FES had always been Yukina’s dream, that the rest of them strived for with her. Ako wondered what Yukina was thinking now, what she thought about how far they’d fallen.

Though they’d accomplished their goal, they’d only grown apart since. They lost sight of what it meant to be Roselia.

Wasn’t it Ako’s job to remind them? Ako’s eyes widened in realization as she again stopped, almost stumbling forward. That was what she said, all those many months ago.

After spending so much time apart and heading down splitting roads, the band clearly needed a reminder. They needed to remember what brought them together, so they could move forward with an even stronger goal.

If Roselia got off track, Ako had committed to bringing back Louder to remind them of their path. It was time to follow through on that promise.

At their next practice, she’d be sure to.

_______________________________________________________

The park was quiet at this time of night. The local kids usually went home before sunset, leaving the swings and slides abandoned.

That suited Lisa well, as she sat on a swing near the edge of the lamppost’s light. She dug her shoe into the dirt, rocking the swing back and forth slightly.

She liked to come here to think, to get away from the bustle of her house and family. It was peaceful and calm, only slightly warm today since the sun had fully set. A few bugs chirped nearby.

The stillness of the night directly contrasted Lisa’s own tumultuous thoughts. She had seen the writing on the wall at their performance, which was only confirmed by the meeting last weekend; she knew the band was going downhill fast.

It was something she feared, something she dreaded. It was the reason she worked so hard to improve her skills, so she could help the band be the best. So that, even if things would never work out between them, she could stay by Yukina’s side.

Despite all of their efforts, or perhaps because of them, everything the band built was crumbling around them. But they weren’t giving up.

Yukina wanted to set a new goal.

Lisa believed in that, believed in her. Still, she was worried.

The problem wasn’t just that they didn’t have a goal. Ever since Future World FES they’d been looking in different directions, and their lack of focus was catching up to them.

Lisa should’ve realized it earlier, when she first heard hints of disunity during rehearsal. How foolish she’d been to just ignore it, to let things get this far. If only she’d realized and taken action, it wouldn’t have become this bad.

Now though, it was too late. They needed to come up with a new plan.

When Lisa thought about what the goal for the band should be, she only thought of Yukina. The woman she’d been following since she was a child, who she was finally able to walk side by side with in Roselia, dominated her mind. Yukina’s dreams had always lit the way for the band and propelled them forward. She was the guiding light that drove the band. Lisa filled more of a supporting role, helping Yukina and her bandmates as best she could.

This year Lisa had broken off to her own path, even more so than her bandmates. She was studying outside the realm of music, but still she longed to stay by Yukina’s side. She couldn’t bear it if the band were to fall apart.

Even though she was supposed to come up with a goal, Lisa was at a loss with what to do next. She suspected Sayo felt the same way, with the way her frown deepened over the course of the meeting.

Lisa knew that coming up with a goal wouldn’t be enough to solve their problems. They had already changed so much in a short period of time. It would take more to bring their sound back together. She sighed, dragging the toe of her shoe through the dirt.

Lisa thought back to Yukina, whose light had been on when she left the house. Yukina had probably already come up with their next goal, the next target for the band to hit. Even at the meeting, her eyes hadn’t wavered.

What could Lisa do to help?

Now she drew a pattern in the dirt, the outline of a rose. There had been so many times when she questioned her place in the band and her contribution to it. She’d learned from those experiences, about her role and what being in Roselia truly meant.

Cookies might be a good place to start. With their busy schedules, it had been a long time since the band had spent any quality time together. They really only met to practice, often without all their members.

Hanging out, even if it was just for long enough to eat cookies, could bring them closer once again. Lisa made a mental note to get some ingredients, so she could bake the finest batch of cookies she’d ever made.

No number of cookies would fix the bands problems of course; Lisa knew that. Getting the band together would only be the beginning. She needed to do more.

They only had a month until summer break, when everyone would be free. That sparked an idea in Lisa’s mind, something that would help for sure.

Lisa rose from the swing, a burst of energy surging through her. Her mouth was set in determination. She was careful not to step on her drawing as she walked away, headed back towards home with a spring in her step.

She needed to look at her calendar and start making some plans.

Next Chapter

[wickednerdery]

Title: The Guest Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: The Night Manager Pairing/character: Jonathan Pine/OC Rating: Teen Summary: “You go alone? At this hour?” Notes: This is something that’s been bouncing in my brain for, like, almost a year (on-and-off)…still not sure I have more than snapshots, but it finally came out onto paper just now lol!

First Chapter

Pine jolts awake, covered in sweat with tight chest and pounding heart. If he didn’t know what it was, if he’d not had them over the years, he’d have thought it a heart attack. He groans himself up, swings legs over edge of bed and puts head between. He runs through the hotels he’s worked in to himself, skipping only the Nefertiti. He repeats them over and over until some semblance of calm returns. Then Jonathan sighs. All that work on setting a routine, putting the past behind him, undone by one little incident. Hopefully it’s a blip, a singular attack, and not the return to a nightly pattern. 

With deep sigh he stands, tosses on swim trunks and hoodie. He knows he’s not going back to sleep, not after that, so he steps into trainers, grabs keycard and towel, and heads out. He takes the nearest exit, walks the grounds outside, to reach the pool. He’s still shaking slightly as he folds and sets clothing on plastic chair.

Breath is visible in the chill of the morning. The ocean hums in the distance, crickets carry on, but the daylight has yet to reach the grounds. Jonathan enjoys the privacy of it, takes in cold air until his shivers only come from the exhilaration of it. When he feels ready, feels right, Jonathan discreetly dives in.

He lets out his shock at the cold, his lingering frustrations, while still underwater. Screaming bubbles surface before he does. Looking around there’s nothing but increased birds chirping and sun finally cutting through the trees. He is still alone, blissfully, but terribly, alone. Jonathan goes under again, his back skimming the surface as he does laps until he hasn’t the air to continue the pace.

“Was the gate unlocked?” She asks with neither amusement nor upset.

Jonathan turns to find her at the other end of the pool. “Yes.” Then his face goes troubled. “I’m sorry, is it not open?”

“Apparently, it is.” Kay’s lips finally lift as she starts to walk towards his end. “I told May to lock it before bed, I should’ve checked.” So much for giving her daughter more responsibility at the hotel.

“I do apologize.” He starts to get up, out, the steam of warm body hitting cold morning rising from his skin. Muscles stutter and tense in the cold, but he presses on.

“Don’t worry about it.” She grabs a pool towel for him. “I’m sure Mrs Regan had her best morning here.” Kay tosses towel with a smile.

He catches it with confused look before following Kay’s eyes to a balcony room overlooking the pool just as its door closes. He chuckles. “I hope this doesn’t count as making trouble in your hotel, Ms Lin.”

“Oh no, Mr Ashland, this is entertainment.” She laughs. “Would you care for any coffee, Mr Ashland?”

“You may call me, Jonathan, if you wish.”

“Alright then, Jonathan. I’m Kay. Coffee, Jonathan?”

“Perhaps we can have one together?”

“I’m going for a run.” Only now does he realize her outfit, the athlesuire wear and trainers. Hair usually tightly wound is more relaxed, in ponytail. “But I can get the coffee before I go.”

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“Okay then.”

He towels hair, watching her start to go, before being unable to help himself. “You go alone? At this hour?”

“Always.” She senses his implication. “Don’t worry, the biggest risks are the early morning drivers and I've got my reflective jacket for that.”

“I could...join you?”

“Are you asking or offering?”

“Whichever offends you less.”

Kay smiles, indulges him and her own curiosity. “Tell you what, lock up for me here, get dressed, and meet me at the main desk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, god, no,” she laughs. “No, no, don’t ever call me that. I start getting “ma’am’d”, I won’t know what I’ll do with myself!” Kay’s laugh lingers even after she’s back inside.

Jonathan chuckles, makes sure the padlock is secure in place, and heads back to his room with a smile. He doesn’t bother to ask himself why he made the offer, if that’s what it was. He’s not yet willing to dwell in the possibility he’s lonely or scared after his night terror. Jonathan is not thinking on whether or not he wants to be with her or just anyone. He just knows he wants to jog with Kay and that if he lets her go alone he won’t feel right the rest of the day.

***

They run together and alone. Enjoying shared silence, each one in their own head, as they move side-by-side, in synch. Pine thinks about his troubles, if he might ever outrun them. Kay thinks about the ones coming if the men return before she can find a safe place for Ricky.

Pine stops when Kay does, panting with her down at the center of town. He straightens up, looks around, then smiles. “Coffee.”

“Coffee.” She smiles, slips in with him behind as she catches breath. “Morning Joe!”

Joseph beams. “Every time.”

“Without fail.”

“The usual?”

“Yes, also...” She turns to Jonathan, expectantly. 

“Just a medium coffee, black, please.” There’s a plethora of options on a separate counter, he’ll adjust for himself.

Kay shrugs. “You heard the man.”

“What about a treat for our favorite month?”

“No, just the coffees today.” She won’t to reward May’s shoddy chore work.

Back outside, coffees in hand, they walk the shuttered town. Jonathan scans for threats, listens for cars and dangerously important conversations...all those things he can’t stop doing nowadays. It isn’t until Kay settles onto a bench at the main bridge that he lets himself relax a touch beside her. He keeps to one end, her on the other, with enough space for ten coffees.

“Are you still keeping your reservation open-ended?” She asks, sipping the overly sweet latte she favors.

“If that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“I am sorry about this morning.”

“Are you this apologetic naturally or is it the years of customer service?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” He smiles into the rising sun. “How long have you run Squall’s End?”

“About five years. It was my parents, but they retired and left it to me.”

“Are they still alive?”

“Yep, just moved down to Florida. They said it was part of their American dream.” She laughs a bit. “We stay with them during most the winter, when tourist season ends here.”

“I see.”

She looks to him. “If you’re still around, I’ll find you accommodations until we return, don’t worry.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble.”

“Exactly. No trouble.”

He smiles, sips his coffee. He holds himself back until he finishes the cup. “Those men who dropped by yesterday -”

“I told you, I don’t discuss and I don’t ask.”

“Will they be back?” He presses on to the point. “Will you and your daughter be in danger if they do?”

Kay isn’t sure how to answer, isn’t sure she has the answer. She focuses on her coffee, only responding when she senses him shifting in preparation to speak again. “Men like them might threaten, intimidate, but they won’t do anything to get on police radar.”

“Are you certain of that, Kay?”

She gulps cold latte, stands with a sigh to toss cup in recycling, then looks down at him. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Jonathan. You’re my guest, not the other way around.”

He smiles up at her, she smiles back. They both know he’ll worry anyway, that he’s already worrying. He’s just that type.

**

Apparently writing the first one unleashed more so...yay? So, the new OC’s full name is Kai-Lee Lin, but goes by Kay because it’s easier. She’s Asian-American, moving to the States with her parents when very young then becoming a citizen (probably around her teens/20s). Her daughter, May, is about ten or eleven and I’m sure she’ll show up later. ...And that’s all I’m saying for now lol! 

(Gif found from Google!)

Tagging Who Might Care: @lady-crowned-with-stars @holykryptonitekitten @ultrarebelheart @chibiyanai @beccaliciooouuusss​​ @michellearel1​​ @sweetfictionalworld @lukeevansandjdmobession @lokilvrr @rizzo87 @alexakeyloveloki @wintertink @moonfaery @annievvv7 @creedslove @wadeyouwitch @cassadius @tarithenurse​ @kellatron55​ @coppercorn-and-cauldron​

[zairapvrker]

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 7

Author’s note: it’s been a long time coming, holy shitballs. ALSO!! i made the important change, throughout the chapters, to name the main character. at the very beginning i didn’t really have a name for her but i found a suitable one just now. i know now it’s a bit late, but it’s better than further along. hope you all don’t mind! p.s. peek the song reference lol

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

masterlist | chapter 1 , chapter 2 , chapter 3 , chapter 4 , chapter 5 , chapter 6 , chapter 8

Luke knew better than to let her run around town when the sun was about to set, in the end it’s not like he couldn’t track down her every move.

He didn’t let her get any further than the end of the road where she lived, before seemingly appearing in front of her out of nowhere. He smirked at the surpised face she made upon seeing him, almost bumping into his chest.

”Oh, hi” she said out of breath, cheeks lightly blushed from the jog she’d made.

“Hello” he transformed his smirk into a soft smile. “You were looking for me?” he asked even if he already knew the answer. Bea just nodded, a little lost.

“How did you-” Luke cut her off immediately. 

“I thought we’d already assessed that I know things you don’t” he remined her, his smile still etched on his features.  “Let’s go” refraining from offering his hand to hold like he’d done a thousand times before, Luke opted for a small nod in the direction he came from - prompting the girl to follow him.

Bea appeared to be deep in her thoughts, lost in them, as she follwed his lead quietly. The park was almost empty when they got there, just a few people jogging and the last of the kids who were enjoying some free time before they had to go home for dinner. Luke walked to a weeping willow, taking a seat near its trunk. She followed, resting her back against it. He was looking in front of him, as he observed the park empying, feeling her eyes on him nonetheless.

“I have two questions” he heard her state, voice quiet, hiding the hurricane of thoughts he knew were making her question her own sanity. “And the answer to one could explain the other” 

Luke could hear her heart - which was starting to beat at a concearning pace - as if it were in his chest. He wanted to help oh so desperately, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. 

“But I’m not sure that I want to know the answer” she whispered, still looking ahead, as his gaze shifted onto her figure. Bea seemed in particular distress and he remembered how all the other times this had been so much easier, sadly Luke was at loss for any sort of solution. 

“We know each other” the brunette finally let out in a sigh, snapping him out of his trance. “We were in love, many times” tears were now threatening to stream down her face as she did her best not to let the overwhelming amount of emotions she was feeling affect the words she was speaking. “You could never save me” she looked into his eyes and he swore he saw all of her certainties crumble as if they were the ground beneath her feet - now open wide. 

“Or change me” her voice broke before she could finish and Luke had to remind himself that it was impossible for him to feel this kind of pain, but for her and with her, he did. She made him feel alive again, every time. 

“You’re right” he simply nodded, prompting the girl to speak on. He knew she still had more to say. 

“I-I can’t escape you anywhere. Not even in my dreams” he watched as she stood up, nervously pacing around. “Everytime I close my eyes all that I see are pictures of times which I didn’t even live!” the little laugh that escaped her was borderline hysterical. “But I just know with every bone in my body that they’re memories. I hear the words you said to me and I... I-I don’t feel like myself anymore!” her hands had gone up to her head, fingers clutching at her hair and pulling it lightly as her eyes closed. Bea stopped dead in her tracks, looking at Luke with desperation etched on her every feature. “Please tell me I’m not crazy” she begged in a whisper.

“You are not crazy” he was quick to assure her. “You’re absolutely right” he smiled softly, hoping it would help to ease her nerves.

“Then what is all of this?” she let herself fall onto her knees, eye to eye with him. Luke sighed, knowing it was his time to talk, even if she didn’t remember.

“Have you ever heard of vampires?” 

-

I was sure I had been in a catatonic sort of shock for more than a bunch of minutes after Luke’s words. Silence had fallen upon us as his question hung in the air, unanswered. 

“Yes” I finally said in a whisper, looking back into his eyes. Somehow, he’d found a way to smirk, looking a little amused. “Well, I am one” he said next.

A scoff left my mouth before a silent laugh could follow. “What, now?” I asked, unsure of what my reaction should be, hearing my voice rise in pitch.

“That’s how I keep finding you through every lifetime of yours” he explained, serious as ever. 

“But couldn’t you be, I don’t know, bullshitting me? Or, if we really wanna talk crazy, some other immortal, supernatural being that-” I stopped talking as soon as I saw his eyes shift from the beautiful ocean blue I was so used to, into a black so dark it felt like I would never find the end of it. Then, his fangs poked out of his slightly parted lips. His features went back to normal a moment later, lifting his eyebrows as if to encourage me to go on with my now impossible theory. I exhaled a breath of stupor, not really believing what I just saw. Another part of me, however, had no problem at all in doing so.

“Was t-that what-” I inhaled deeply before speaking again, releasing my breath just before the words slipped out. “Was that what change meant? Turning me into a vampire?”

Luke nodded, looking down at his feet. “I was always willing to, anything but losing you” he sighed. “But I never really wanted to, unless it was you who chose to” his eyes were now on mine as I was rendered speechless once again.

Knowing the truth was almost worse than living in ignorance.

tag list: @assumeimapenguin @rose-coloredmind @keithseabrook27

[wheresfury]

Brie the Vampire Layer

~Pairings: Brie Larson/fem!reader

~Warnings: blood feeding (biting), rough sex, oral sex, dirty talk.

~Word count: 1,960

~Summary: Brie is the one person you care about. Turns out she feels the same way even if you are a monster.

~Authors note: It’s unholy week day 7!! The end of a fun week I must say. This one shot took the longest. I honestly didn’t think I’d get it done in time. @fun-sized-widow-bites thank you so much for helping me with everything- especially this vamp fic. This was the hardest to write and you made it easier for me by advising and sharing your ideas. Also for vamping up my banner into a dope gif. Thank you baby 😘 Day 7-Monsters II - Vampire! Hope y’all enjoy! Happy Halloween!! 🎃

~Other works on my Masterlist. (I will make a Masterlist/ or add to current one for this special week once it is completed.)

———-<3———-

You were flipping through Netflix as you sat back on your lounger drinking a warm mug of blood. You clicked on Re:Mind before your doorbell rang. You sighed as you paused the show and set down your mug before getting up to answer the door. Your eyes widened as you saw Brie standing there with a frown.

“Hey Brie, what are you doing here?” She scoffs and makes her way past you bumping into your shoulder harshly.

“You don’t look sick, Y/N.” You close the door and look at Brie sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Brie. I just couldn’t go out today.” Brie rolls her eyes and sees your steaming mug.

“You have one of those fancy expensive rings, Y/N. You could’ve gone and that’s what hurts.” You bring a hand up to rub at the back of your neck.

“Yeah,” Brie looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “I kind of...lost it.” You bring your hands up to defend yourself when Brie starts to slap your arms.

“How could you lose the one thing that allows you to be in the sunlight! To see me outside of the shadows of night or in your apartment.” You sigh as you grab her hands, holding them tightly in your own. The lapis lazuli stone has helped your life tremendously. Letting you step outside into the sun without burning to ash.

“I’m sorry, Brie. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it. It’ll be awhile before I can get another one.”

“I can get you one right now, Y/N.” You sigh and release her hands.

“Don’t worry about it Brie. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.” Brie pinches your arm hard making you yelp and your fangs to pop out.

“You know I like you, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Including giving you a proper snack every once in a while.” You look at her confused as she stares at your mouth. You look to your mug that has now cooled off.

“I haven’t fed off a human in years, Brie. It’s dangerous.” She stalks closer to you until you hit your back against your front door.

“I know you want me, Y/N. You’re just scared you’ll hurt me. I trust you enough to know you will not kill me.” She presses her body up against yours making you groan at the comfortable feeling.

“It’ll be rough. I can’t always control my strength.” Brie hums and kisses your neck.

“I love it rough, baby. Now here I am practically throwing myself at you. What are you going to do about it, vampy?” You release a guttural growl at Brie as you quickly flip your positions. Her back slammed against the door as you attack her lips with your own. She moans loudly into your mouth as you grope her breasts.

“If I go too far or too rough, Brie. Do not hesitate to hurt me. Understand?” She nods her head and breathes out a yes as you pick her up and take her into your bedroom. You throw her onto the bed and quickly strip out of your clothes. She does the same knowing you’d most likely rip them off. You climb on top of Brie laying down on top of her, causing you both to moan at the feeling. Your lips seek hers in a desperate kiss. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling the strands roughly. You nip her bottom lip with your fangs as your tongue makes its way into her mouth. Your tongues tangle in a sloppy kiss. Brie’s tongue licks and wraps around your fangs making your body become unsteady on top of her. You hear her chuckle as she licks your fangs once more as you shiver from the sensation. Brie pulls away when breathing became a problem for her. Her hands make their way onto your shoulders clawing at the cold flesh.

Brie groans as you make you way down her torso. You retract your fangs before taking a nipple into your mouth. Her hands make their way into your hair as you suckle on the stiff bud. You switch to the other breast giving them equal attention. Your hands squeeze the soft mounds harshly before kissing your way down her abdomen. You hear her groan loudly as you place a kiss on her soaked folds. Her hands pull your face closer as you bring her clit into your mouth. You kitten licked her clit as two of your fingers run languidly through her folds and pulling on the slick labia. You pause at her entrance before roughly entering her with two fingers. You groan as her pussy squeezes your fingers deliciously. You pull away from her clit and she whines at the action.

“You’re so tight, baby. You feel so good wrapped around my fingers.” You pump your fingers into her with rough thrusts. Her hands pull at your hair as your fingers pick up their pace.

“Fuck, Y/N, faster.” You groan as you bite her thigh sucking hard on the quivering flesh. You tighten your forearm and quicken your pace as her pussy makes the filthiest sounds.

“Can you hear that, baby? Hear how loud your wet pussy is for me. You’re so wet, hm. Does being my blood donor make you feel this way?” Brie releases your hair to grab at the sheets as she moans loudly. You nip her clit over and over again making her choke on a scream.

“Yes! I love how it feels to please you that way, Y/N. Please...I’m so close, baby.” You moan into her cunt as you twist and scissor your fingers in her pussy. Brie’s back arches and she groped her breasts, twisting her nipples as you suck harshly at her clit.

“Cum for me, Brie. Cum for your Master, baby.” Brie moans loudly at this and squeezes you with her thighs as she screams out your name at her release. You hum and slow down your fingers helping her ride out her high. You pull them out and clean her up before Brie pushes you away. You lick your fingers clean and then lick your lips before making your way up and kissing Brie softly on the mouth. She moaned into your mouth at the taste of herself on your lips. You pull away from the kiss and kiss Brie’s cheek. Brie hums and squeezes your sides.

“I want you to feed on me, Y/N. Take what you need, baby.” You place your thigh in between her and groan at the wet heat your cold skin encounters. Limbs tangled as Brie’s back arched into you. Your lips tracing their way down her face to her neck, sucking deep marks into the skin.

“You’re so beautiful, Brie. Are you sure about this?” Brie’s fingers tangle into your hair, pulling at the strands.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you. All of you.” You hum as you lick her pulse point. You graze your fangs over her neck, nipping lightly with a growl. You can smell her blood and you squeeze your eyes shut with a deep sigh so as not to lose control.

“This will hurt at first, babe, a lot. Then you won’t feel anything but pleasure, okay?” Brie nods and looks at you with nothing short of admiration. You look away and bite your lip to try and keep your hunger in check. Brie’s hand cups your cheek bring your eyes back to meet hers.

“I trust you, Y/N.” You blink rapidly as she pulls you into a deep kiss. It was a quick kiss and you’re soon back at her neck, licking her pulse point. You can hear her blood pulsing through her veins and it makes your mouth water. You once again try not to shake with your pent up hunger. You position your fangs right above her vein before biting down. When your fangs break the skin Brie releases a scream and squeezes your shoulders. You wiggle your fangs and clamp them into her vein. You moan loudly as the delectable taste enters your mouth. The taste of blood after an orgasm was even better than regular blood. The taste was much sweeter and more filling in a way. You drink greedily as Brie’s nails scratch and dig into your back. Your mind goes hazy at the fresh taste you didn’t realize you’d missed. Her scream quickly turned into moans as your feeding gave her a slight pleasure. Your eyes close as you drink her in. You’ve never, in your 600 years of living, tasted someone so good. You started to feel a warmth in your lower abdomen you only got from human feeding. To you feeding off of a human was like chasing an orgasm, once full it was like you just had a powerful orgasm.

You clamped down harder if possible and started to double your intake. Brie’s nails dig deeper into your back easily drawing your own blood. You wince at the sting and slow your pace. You hadn’t realized how strongly you were feeding and you can’t lose control, not this time. It takes everything in you to not drain her completely and find you full high. You couldn’t lose Brie, she’s the only one who doesn’t care if you're a monster. You slowly pull out your fangs and lick her mark to speed up the healing process before giving it a kiss. You start to shake from wanting to continue feeding until you were full and there was none left. Your hands claw at the bed sheets as you try to calm down. Brie notices your struggle and rubs your back.

“Shh you’re okay, Y/N,” Brie hugs you tight and rocks you slowly as you start to settle down, “how are you doing, babe?” You feel the burn from the marks Brie’s nails left on your back. Her cheeks a slight shade of pink. You sigh in shame at yourself. You nuzzle her cheek as the images of her lifeless body helps you control your monster. She squeezes your waist as she kisses your forehead as you hum at the warm feeling.You kiss her cheek as she catches her breath and you get ahold of your hunger.

“I’m better now, Brie. Thank you. Now that I’m okay how about you? Any pain?” Brie hums and lightly scratches the back of your neck.

“No, I’m feeling good, Y/N. How about you feeling full?” You chuckle and kiss her ear.

“I feel amazing, Brie. Your taste… is incredible.” Brie smiles and pecks you on the lips.

“Glad I could do that for you, babe.” You hum and nibble on her ear lobe making her arch into you.

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” You blush and hide in the crook of her neck.

“No I’m not, Brie. I’m a monster.” Brie hums and hugs you tight.

“Well you’re my little monster and I adore you...master.” You choke on your spit as you pull away to look at Brie with a sheepish look.

“I-I wasn’t thinking when I said that, Brie. You don’t have to call me that.” She smiles and kisses your forehead.

“I love it, baby. I love you.” You return her smile and kiss her deeply.

“I love you too, Brie. Thank you for accepting me for all I am.” She hums and pushes you onto you back before snuggling up to your chest.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way, baby.” You hold her close and kiss her head as she slowly falls asleep on your chest. You sigh and watch her sleep as you thank your lucky stars you have the best girl to love.

———-<3———-

Brie taglist: @fun-sized-widow-bites

Forever taglist: @cheethos , @domromanoff , @stuckys-whore , @marilynroselleprentiss , @captainwonderwidow , @kello-unknown , @lildoughnut0 , @wndamaximov , @kdragonwrestling

[kryptsune]

Hi you are an amazing writer i was wondering if you have any tips on salvaging a story that was derailed by a brain fart cause uh i was writing a short story that turned out to be longer and harder to read for anyone thats not myself and now i cant barely look at it... so can i have tips or advice please?

🌼Sorry for the late reply on this I wanted to be able to take the time to give you my own personal advice. First of all, thank you for the kind words :D I am so happy that you enjoy my writing. 

Tips tips tips. Well, there are a couple of things you can do and I have personally done myself. If you feel as though a story has gotten out of hand there is nothing wrong with that at all. I never planned to have either Felldritch or Wonderfell having their own fics in the first place but I enjoy writing for them so much that it was a logical progression. It is difficult for me to assess your personal investment in the project and from what I am reading it seems you no longer are passionate about it?  The truth of the matter is that writing has to be something you enjoy in order to do stories. Sure you can pump out chapter after chapter but it won’t have that spark and why would you put yourself through that suffering in the first place? Sometimes stories are hard to read for others just because of their personality. I have a lot of friends that enjoy my work but haven’t read the story because it is massive. That is something I am keenly aware of often. Welcome to the Underworld is not for the faint of heart or for casual readers and I understand that. It’s not for everyone. I appreciate it when people at least try, however, it is a good way for me to gauge interest at the very least. 

I will break this into 3 parts. The first will be revaluating your current story/project and the second will be things you can do that might make it easier for your readers if you still feel you want to continue it and lastly what you can do to possibly get that passion back if so you can “look at it again.” 1. Evaluating your project: As artists and creatives, we tend to latch onto our work because we put our own personal investment into it. I usually use the analogy that it is like our child and it can be difficult to care for sometimes and yet rewarding at others. This is the first thing you want to do if you are working on a project. Always evaluate. Do you enjoy it anymore?  Do you feel stuck? Is it just not going the way you want it to? Writer's block maybe? All of these can be factors into why you may not enjoy it any longer. 

I felt this with WTU for the longest time and now looking back on it...it was for the wrong reasons. I felt that no one wanted to read it after hours upon hours of writing and editing. It made me sad and I didn’t understand why. The thing is I have changed my mindset when it comes to this. It is hard for me to accurately gauge who reads my work without some kind of feedback but I have a goal. I set out to write an extensive and world built Fell verse and I am going to do it. It’s important to me and it is rewarding just to know that I can do a project as large as the three acts of WTU. Ask yourself why are you writing the story? What are your roadblocks? This will help you come to a decision. 

2. Easing the Readers: If you read my writing you will notice I have a tendency to write a fair bit. Every chapter of WTU ranges from about 15-20 pages of text 11 point font in google docs. That is a lot. I actually have not gone and calculated the word count on it but yeah, a lot. There are simple things you can do however to make the reading a little more digestible for people. 

a. Formating: I never had a problem with reading large blocks of text. That was how I was taught in middle and high school. That said others struggle with large blocks because it makes it difficult to read from a visual perspective (the irony that I am using block text right now). What you can do is break up your paragraphs more often. I have started to do this with older WTU chapters seeing as there are a lot of text blocks. It is a simple and relatively hassle-free way to make it easier. 

b. Pacing: I am by no means the expert of fics however there are some things that I notice in fics that tend to pop up quite frequently. I am not saying to change these things by any means but to evaluate and possibly adjust when needed. PACING. I can’t tell you how many stories I have read with poor or confusing pacing. What I mean by this is that the story is either holding too long in a certain scene or there is no breathing room. WTU and a lot of my fics have dark undertones to them which creates drama and emotional payoff, however, doing this constantly and throwing problem after problem into a story is hard to swallow. The readers need a break. This can be anything from levity to simple character interactions. Not everything is fights or angst. 

This also goes for fics that have none of the former as well. There are so many that are a slice of life and that is fine! Enjoy your cute fluffy fics that said if there is no conflict then what is the point of continuing to read the story? What is holding my investment? Sure the characters can be written well but the point of storytelling is connection. A perfect butterflies and rainbows story is all well and good but you can’t connect to it. That is not how life is. (I am pontificating a little bit but I am honestly really tired of having to explain to people that my fics are M for a reason. No NSFW stuff but rather real-life mental and psychological and emotional situations.)

c. Characters: This kind of also ties into what I was talking about before. A flawless character... is a boring one. Some of peoples favorite characters are the villains, why? Because unlike their heroic counterparts they feel real. They go through things and make their own path. If they just chose differently then things would be different. A lot of times (and no offense to fandom) I find that people make stereotypes of a character. It’s all surface-level stuff. Think about what makes you, you. What have you gone through that causes you to think a certain way or react to things? Our lives are made up of experiences and moments and characters are the exact same way. Most don’t realize this since I hint it throughout the story but everything tells a story. The character's costumes tell a story whether that be the place they live of their own personal style. Why does my Red wear a collar with a seemingly half-broken, fused, and burned chain link? I don’t know... you tell me. 

It’s a storytelling technique called breadcrumbing. This is used to hint to some sort of plot or payoff. A foreshadowing at times. It is an incredibly useful and engaging tool if done properly. I would use my “why does Red do what he does” example but its been beaten to death so I will use Boss as my example instead.   

Boss is the Head of Royal Guard having bested Undyne a long time ago but not everyone was happy with the change of the Guard and that is communicated in character dialogue. In fact, you can use this method to hint to character connections as well. Boss has claw marks in both his scarf and his left eye socket. So.... who could do that kind of damage? If you have read the story *mild Snowdin spoiler* Frisk meets Doggo. An Australian cattle dog-wolf mix that has no love for the current Captain. He was tossed out of the Royal Guard after altercation... maybe attacking a certain lanky skeleton perhaps? It’s not directly stated but certain visual ques could lead someone to that kind of assumption. 

Intertwine your characters, their relationships, their life events. All of this will create far more dynamic storytelling and investment.

d. Planning: Returning back to potential writers' block... I find that something that personally helps me is outlining. I have all of my stories planned out from beginning to end while the middle can be moved around accordingly. That said in every single chapter I outline the main points I want to communicate. It helps with the organization but also keeping your thoughts on track. If you feel you need an extra chapter for character development then you can totally plan that out. Don’t be afraid to change things. It’s your story do what you feel is best for it! 

e. Editors/betas/outside eyes: This is a huge one and can be a little challenging at first. It is helpful to have others look at the work. Those that you trust. Have them look for grammar or even pacing and character inconsistencies. It can be hard to get a critique on your work that you love so much however this makes you far better writer IF IT COMES FROM A REPUTABLE SOURCE. 

I need to clarify this as you cannot please everyone. I have rejected critiques from my beta readers in the past, not because I think I know better but because even they can’t account for your overall thought process. What they think is superfluous may come to have a payoff later on and it needs to be in there for that payoff. That can be anything from character development to plot.  You have to be strong in your conviction. Say yes and no when appropriate and always be kind to your readers. They are taking time out of their lives to help you with your work. The same goes for the betas. Be respectful and kind when giving CONSTRUCTIVE feedback and don’t be offended when the author does not agree. 

3. Breaking the Block: Breaking any kind of block is not easy. In fact, it is a constant nuisance in any creative field. That said there are some simple things that you can do to help. The best example I can give is taking a break. That can range from person to person but generally, sometimes you work on something for so long you need to set it aside and look at it with fresh and new eyes. It is ok to take breaks, hiatus, or just work on something else for your own mental well being. Here are a few things you can do to utilize your break effectively.  a. Don’t even look at it: Some people just need to get away from it all which is totally understandable. I would be farther along in my own fics if I did not break so much but I am determined to put my best foot forward even if it takes me longer. I am also an artist in the drawing and painting sense so I juggle that as well. If you notice my blog right now there has not been much going on in the way of writing because I’ve switched gears. There is nothing wrong with that but I pick my battles. 

b. Work on another project: There is nothing wrong with working on something else just for a change of pace. We are not machines and therefore monotony breeds complacency or burn out in this case. One of the reasons I have 2 other fics is because sometimes I hop from project to project. I know not everyone can mentally do that but it helps me recharge for the main project that I feel worn out on. 

People have also been wondering where TLC (Tender Love and Care) my Red X Frisk fic has been. The truth is that fic is my downtime fic. I do it when I am able to. In fact, as I work on my multiverse boys references lately I have been working on the second chapter of TLC because its a nice change of pace from doing something like Felldritch or the other two.

c. A little at a time:  Any type of project can be overwhelming so taking chunks of it at a time helps compartmentalize it a little easier. Try to write as much as you can a day. It’s not much but by the end of the week, boom, your chapter is done. 

You shouldn’t push yourself or beat yourself up either. I find that I always feel guilty about taking some leisure time because I could be creating more content but that’s unhealthy. Take the time you need and enjoy your games or books. I personally am enjoying the heck out of Animal Crossing right now. 

All in all, I hope some of these tips help a little. Since I do not know what you are working on or why you feel the way you do about it. It is hard for me to give direct advice. What I can say out of all of this is enjoy what you are making. Enjoy the journey and the process. At the end of the day, it is your investment and if you don’t enjoy it what is the point?

 It is nice to get feedback on things, trust me I know sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, and there are clear signs of burn out. We are not art machines, give it some time, reflect, evaluate, and you will find your way. If you really want me to dig deeper to give you specific con crit advice then you are free to DM me. My ask box is also always open! 

[anlian-aishang]

Hay! 💞💕

So, I absolutely love, love, LOVE your writing! I honestly just... can't. Amazing! I'm trying to write myself, but I'm fairly new to it and there are sooo many amazing writers I feel kinda under pressure and a bit intimidated 😞

I showed a friend one of my oneshots but she said it was too short, is there a right length? 😂 Should I aim for a certain amount of words?

Do you have any tips? Anything you do to get inspiration? Sorry for ambushing you with a million questions! I just don't have many people I can ask these sorts of things 👉👈

Anyways... hope you're having an amazing day and I look forward to reading many, MANY, more of your amazing stories soon!! 💕💞💕💞

Hay! 💞💕

Okay I have so much good stuff to say, I am going to put a read more!

This goes for you and everyone, if you ever want my help/advice/listening ears for anything, I am always here! We can become writing buddies and good friends! 💞

TLDR: No one in the world can write like you. The way that you see and express things is uniquely its own. Follow your heart and others will follow. You offer something that no one else can! 💕

So first off, I want to thank you a ton for the incredibly nice compliments!! It makes me so happy to hear that people enjoy my writing :’) Like, really, there are no words to adequately express how awesome it makes me feel!! Thank you so so much!

Also, congratulations! You’re an author!!! SO EXCITING!!! :D

Just a mere few months ago I was feeling the exact same way you are! There were countless authors with hundreds of notes and hundreds of followers who had dozens of works. I felt like, “Why should I even try? Every scenario has already been written in a better way than I can write, right?” WRONG. There will always be requests and there will always be difference in tastes. You are someone’s favorite writer. Even if the scene is the same, you will make it unique just by being you!

I totally understand that pressure. It took me a while to realize: anything you put out there is more than you ever had to. You’re doing more than is necessary and everyone will be grateful for anything and everything you make. Volunteering your time and effort, anyone and everyone appreciates that!

As for intimidation, I understand that too. I think a lot of people on tumblr (and the internet in general) can come off as cold or blunt. Mostly unintentionally. Some intentionally :/ As for me, I am only a human being just like you :) I am pretty sure in my in-person life, no one has ever been afraid or intimidated by me 😂 (and I like it that way!) Online, I love every user I’ve interacted with! I hope no one feels afraid to talk to me! I’m super nice and soft and friendly. I don’t have a mean bone in my body 🥰 Please don’t ever hesitate to reach out to me!

Regarding appropriate lengths, I have googled this question so many times cause I never know either 😅. I could be wrong, but as of now, I think: 100 to 1000 words is a drabble. 500 to 1000+ words is a oneshot. I think there is a grey area between 500 and 1000 words where it could go either way, but this is just a casual “to each their own” kinda thing, I think!  Truthfully, when I write, I don’t rely on the word count too much. I write the story and consider it done once I’ve expressed everything I wanted to and once the pacing feels right. Sometimes, these criteria are met at 300 words. Other times, at 3000 words! It all just depends :) Whatever feels right to you!

General writing tips... hmm... let me think!

I highly recommend an outline and/or first draft! For me, it’s just easier to see my plan written out than trying to memorize and keep track of it in my head. Also, a first draft allows you to just write as you think and not get too hung up on perfecting each sentence. It will make the writing faster, but more importantly, a lot less headache! :)

If you’re trying to remember a certain word, I recommend going to google and typing in “__word__ synonym” and/or going utilizing this website: https://www.onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml. OneLook gives you not only synonyms, but words that are similar and related to that word. (i.e. “romantic” will show up in a search for “kiss”) You can sort by alphabetizing or relevance and look at nouns/verbs/adjectives/etc. as you please! It’s helped me remember so many words!

That said, don’t worry about getting too descriptive or using crazy words! Readers can use their imaginations, their own personifications, their own perspectives to adequately fill in the blanks. :)

This is a personal preference, but it’s one that I feel strongly about for myself. I don’t love run-on sentences. Try to break them up into smaller sentences or at least use commas. This is not only easier for your editing process, but is a lot less demanding to your reader.

To illustrate my run-on sentence point, which is easier to read?

“Levi not only was a captain of the Scout Regiment but was also a handsome with his steel eyes and raven locks, strict with his flat stare and riddled muscle, disciplinarian so of course you felt intimidated along with all your other recruits, actually everyone in the human race to be honest.”

“Levi was not only a captain of the Scout Regiment, he was also a handsome, strict, disciplinarian. Steel eyes, raven locks, flat stare, of course you and all fellow recruits felt intimidated. In fact, everyone in the human race perceived him the same.”

See what I mean? Once again, this could just be my silly personal preference, but I think it at least makes reading easier for your audience.

Finally, and most importantly, stay true to yourself :) It’s fine to admire authors and take things from their writing, but don’t forget to value your own skill and perspective. You write like no one else can. Isn’t that amazing?! :D 🌟🌟🌟

For inspiration, I would recommend opening up your inbox requests! People have some incredible imaginations. Of course, don’t feel pressured to write anything you don’t want to or just aren’t feeling. Maybe write out some rules for if you’re worried about certain requests. Another idea is to reblog prompt lists. They’re usually quotes (or something similar) that you can incorporate into a piece. They allow room for your own creativity while also providing a basis to work with! 

I would love for you to come off anon so that we can be writing buddies and even better friends 💞 Only if you feel comfortable, of course! I'd be more than happy to get in touch. I’ll always be here to proofread, offer help/advice, listen, and just be a good pal. 

Thanks for such a kind ask! I am so looking forward to your works! Let me know when they come out :) I’m anticipating already 😇