#one moment she screams at me and the other she pretends that nothing happened
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𝐈𝐓’𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘
𐙚 summary; the one where the reader meet charles and realises that maybe soulmates do exist
ʚɞ pairing; charles leclerc x singer!reader
ᡣ𐭩 fc; maisie peters (& a pinterest girl for the ferrari post as maisie hasn’t attended a gp)
⭒ type; smau
⟡ a/n; this isn’t my best work at all but i haven’t posted in forever because i’ve been really busy so enjoy this lovelies
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y/nusername
liked by taylorswift, florencepugh and others
y/nusername “the prophecy” out everywhere now <3
comments…
user1 AAAAHHHHHHHH
user2 IM CRYING WTF
taylorswift it was such a pleasure to write with you
⤷ user4 THEY CO-WROTE THIS!? OMFG
user5 “don’t want money just someone who wants my company” HEARTBREAKING 💔
user6 her exes better know how to fight, i’m coming for them
⤷ user7 i’ll help you !!
user8 i don’t think the bridge to a song has ever hurt me more
⤷ user9 NO CAUSE ID Y/N SEES NO SIGN OF SOULMATES WHAT CHANCE DO I HAVE!? she’s literally perfect and she thinks there’s no soulmate for her 😭😭😭
florencepugh i love you, you’re incredible
⤷ y/nusername i love you most flo
user10 the day i get over this song is the day i die
and more…
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scuderiaferrari
📍• melbourne grand prix circuit
liked by y/nusername, charles_leclerc and others
scuderiaferrari look who popped in to say hello 👋🏻 ❤️ (i am your biggest fan - admin)
tagged y/nusername
comments…
y/nusername and i’m your biggest fan admin❤️
⤷ scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️
user1 NOT HER RELEASING THE SADDEST FUCKING SONG EVER AND THEN ATTENDING A GP ALL SMILES LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED 😭😭
user2 since when was y/n an f1 girlie!?
⤷ user3 since forever!!
user4 i’m living for y/n x ferrari
user57 another female celebrity pretending to like f1 for more fame, great 😒😒
⤷ user5 stfu she has literally been an f1 fan for years, there are so many videos of her talking about it
user6 manifesting a ferrari win today
user7 when my two worlds collide
and more…
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y/nusername
liked by charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter and others
y/nusername 4 weeks in 4 pictures
comments…
user1 loving the sunglasses
⤷ y/nusername they’re so fun aren’t they??
user2 she’s so unbelievably beautiful
sabrinacarpenter i miss you 😢
⤷ y/nusername i miss you more angel, see you soon
user4 i wonder who the guy is
⤷ user5 call me crazy, kinda looks like charles leclerc and he’s in the likes
⤷ user6 you’re crazy, it’s been like 2 months since the aus gp
taylorswift i’d like my hot water bottle back please
⤷ y/nusername no 😢😓
and more…
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charles_leclerc
liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and others
charles_leclerc 🛥️🛥️
comments…
user1 charles with children is the cutest thing ever
⤷ user2 no cause he’ll deffo be the best dad
user3 DIDN’T Y/N JUST CUT HER HAIR THIS SHORT!?
⤷ user4 SHE DID!!! IT HAS TO BE HER!!!
landonorris 🫣
⤷ user5 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW!?
⤷ user6 TELL US NOW!!
carlossainz55 not even trying to hide it anymore
�� charles_leclerc i hate you
⤷ user7 Y/NCHARLES CONFIRMATION!?
and more…
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f1
liked by y/nusername, scuderiaferrari and others
f1 THE ONE HE ALWAYS WANTED 🥹🏆
Charles Leclerc is the first home winner of the Monaco Grand Prix for 93 years!
What a moment for the Monegasque native ❤️🇲🇨
comments…
olliebearman ❤️
user1 jules is smiling down at him, i know it 🥹
⤷ user2 and his dad
user3 ngl i sobbed
⤷ user4 we all did
carlossainz55 a long time coming ❤️
user5 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HOW HE LITERALLY RAN TO Y/N AND KISSED HER!?
⤷ user6 LITERALLY I SCREAMED!!!!
⤷ user7 I FUCKING KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER
and more…
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y/nusername
liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and others
y/nusername surprise single time! “the alchemy” out now !!
tagged; charles_leclerc
comments…
user1 SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.
user2 she really said “THIS SONG IS ABOUT CHARLES LECLERC!!!”
⤷ user3 fr!! she’s leaving no room for rumours
charles_leclerc mon coeur ❤️
*liked by y/nusername*
⤷ y/nusername je t’aime ❤️
user4 “WHERE’S THE TROPHY?! HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME!!!!”
⤷ user5 NO I ACTUALLY DIED
taylorswift i’m so proud of you
⤷ y/nusername i love you
user6 I LOVE HOW SHE INCLUDED THE PICS
⤷ user7 THEY ARE THE F1 COUPLE
charles_leclerc i told you soulmates do exist my girl
⤷ y/nusername shush
⤷ carlossainz55 this is sick(eningly cute)
⤷ user8 carlos really speaking for all of us
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taglist; @danielshoe @amorrziinho @soamericn @urfavwelshie @xylinasdiary @cleaswn @marknolee @shineforever19 @formulaal @manicpixiemom @lemon-lav
comment to be added to taglist <3
#f1#f1 drivers x reader#formula one#charles leclerc#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#charles leclerc imagine
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THE COLLAR | s.jaeyun
୨୧ -› when sunghoon's little sister will meet her virtual best friend after 10 years, but everything goes wrong.
୨୧ -› brother's best friend!jake x best friend's sister!reader]
Warning -› possessive brother's best friend, lies, "enemies" for lovers, death threats, obscenity, loss of virginity, oral sex (both), horseback riding, semi!public sex, in the pool...
It was just another day at school, as I was Sunghoon's sister I had to deliver letters to him and his friends, because the girls in my class didn't have the courage.
"- y/n, could you give this letter to Jake, I can't stay around him for long." Of course, I'm not going to lie to myself, I have a crush on SimJaeyun, I've felt this since I was 8 years old when my brother took him home to play video games
"'- I'll give it to you yuna, you can leave it to me" I gave her a genuine smile because I wouldn't get mad at her because of that, because in everyone's mind Jake and I are enemies who talk out of obligation because of my brother, no I can deny it, I think Jake hates me, I don't know...he looks at me strange, so I have to pretend that I hate him, even though it's the opposite.
I got up immediately because the bell rang, I took the letter and left my room heading towards the lockers. From afar I see my brother and his friends and I go to him, immediately handing the letter to Jake.
"-wow, Park y/n handing me letters, this is new, don't be jealous, sunghoon" he said laughing ironically at my brother, I rolled my eyes at his stupid idea
"- I'm sorry jaeyun, but even dead I wouldn't write a letter to you, instead I would much rather write to Jay" I said with venom on my lips, I can't deny it, Park Jay was very attractive I had a crush on him in teaching medium, but nothing that would last.
He soon made a strange face as he turned away, saying something that I couldn't hear very well, but who cares, it won't change anything in my life. I turned to sunghoon saying that I was going to meet chaewon, leaving there heading towards the field I felt the back of my neck burning, but who cares, right?
"- y/nn, come here" I heard chaewon screaming for me so I went to the place and sat down with her
"- well, do you have any news about wonbin? I heard that he will come here to see you, I'm very excited, finally we will meet" she said, jumping excitedly, as she was always curious to know who the mysterious boy was who sent me messages all the time.
"- yes, I'm excited too, I've been waiting for this for ten years, but he's coming next week, because he has a football game at his school" I said looking at Chaewon because it seemed like she was happy for me , I always told her that he helped me in the best moments of my life, in the ups and downs, those that I never managed to talk about with my brother or my parents.
"- it won't take that long then, but did you finally hear the news?" she said excitedly, I always wonder where all this excitement comes from, but I think it's part of her personality
"- I didn't know, why?" I asked myself curiously, because nothing ever happens at this school.
"- jay is having a party at his house after the game, you're going to come with me, right? you know I don't like going alone" oh no, she looked at me with those puppy dog eyes, idiot, she knows that's my point weak
"- I wouldn't go if you weren't, but how are you going to do what" I said in defeat because those eyes always win me over
"- THANK GOD, after years you're going to a party with me" she said exaggeratedly because she knows very well that I just didn't go to the other one because I had injured my ankle.
"- I'll see you at the game then y/n, I'll meet you at 1 o'clock in the afternoon??" I wave slightly and go straight to my brother's car to wait for him, as he always talks too much with Jake.
After 5 minutes I see him and Jake coming towards us in the car, as Jake is coming along I already know he will sleep at home, as always, 1 day before the game he stays at home, I think this is useless, but what can I do?
I got in the car without saying anything because I didn't want to include myself in their conversation, but sunghoon asks me a question
"- y/n, are you going to the game tomorrow?" he asked looking in the rearview mirror with a questioning look.
"- yes I will, I will go with chaewon she asked me to go" I immediately heard some giggles
"- I thought you were going to be talking to your little friend y/n, news" Jaeyun said between nasal laughs
"- yes, I wanted to, but he also has a game to play, you're not the only one Jaeyun" I said, picking up my things as I had already arrived home, getting out of the car I heard a bit of my brother's conversation
"- jake don't do that man, you know she gets angry easily, seeing you do that doesn't even seem like it...." I only heard half-heartedly because I closed the door seconds later, entering my room and sitting on my dresser to take off my makeup, until I heard a notification coming from my cell phone.
• wonbin sent you a message.
I immediately had a smile on my face, as I hadn't spoken to him since early in the morning.
*- hi dear, how are you??
I immediately replied
*-hi wonbin, I'm fine and you? So, are you looking forward to tomorrow's game?
*-Well I can't deny it, I'm really looking forward to the game, but I know I'll do well
*- convinced, you see, but I'm going to sleep, I'm exhausted, tomorrow I'm going to my brother's game too, I'm already feeling a headache
*- you're right, I need to sleep too, my trainer wants me to be there at 10 am, honestly I'm lazy, but what can I do, good luck to your brother tomorrow, good night kitten
*- good night
After I sent my last message to wonbin I heard a knock on the door, I looked up and saw someone unexpected
Sim jaeyun
"- what are you doing here jaeyun, go to my brother's room" I said getting ready for bed, I heard laughter near me and I immediately turned back.
"- calm down kitten, don't be like that, I was just going to ask you a question" he said placing his hand on my cheek lightly running his thumb over my skin.
"- then speak quickly, I'm dying of sleep" he looked at me and then asked
"- are you going to Jay's party?" the question was unexpected, I almost couldn't pay attention because his hand on my face was giving me goosebumps
the sexual tension just building in the air, making me nervous
"- yes I will, why?" With a touch of confidence I managed to answer him, but soon I felt him approaching my face, heading towards my ear
"- good to know, I'll see you there, kitten" then he walked away and went straight to my brother's room, I was stunned by what happened seconds ago, why is he acting like this
I immediately lay down and thought [Sim jaeyun is very strange] I thought to myself before falling asleep
First thing in the morning, I was woken up by several messages from wonbin
• 9+ wonbin messages
I opened it immediately to find out what happened
*- good morning sleepyhead *- I received that necklace you sent me *- is it a star? *- you are the best girl *- does she have a pair??
I was confused because the necklace would arrive after 5 days, as I sent it yesterday morning, I thought it was strange.
*- Good Morning *- has it arrived yet?? wow that was literally quick I thought it would arrive in 3-5 days, but I'm glad you liked it *- and yes, it's a pair lol, yours is a star and mine is a moon, because you are the brightest star I've ever seen
*- eww, very cliche
*- WONBIN!!!
*- calm down, I'm joking, kitten lol, my trainer is calling me, I'm going, bye *- calm down, I'm joking, kitten lol, my trainer is calling me, I'm going, bye
I turned off my cell phone and went straight to the shower because in a little while I was going to meet chaewon
wearing a white skirt with my brother's team shirt, I put on light makeup because I would have to go back to get ready for the party together with chaewon, I put on my sneakers and went to the living room to wait for her
I soon heard a knock on the door, I grabbed my things and opened the door.
"- y/n in heaven, you look amazing as always, ready to go girl??" she said with coke in hand, then handing me one
"- of course" he said with a smile on his face before leaving
Arriving at the field, it was literally full, but there is always a corner reserved for me at the front, after asking people for permission I soon sat down to watch the game
nothing interesting happened during the game, until jaeyun scores a bicycle goal and celebrates with that beautiful smile of his that makes my knees go weak
"- wow girl, close your mouth or mosquitoes don't come in" she said mocking me, I straightened my posture looking at her
"- stop talking nonsense chaewon" she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the game
the game ended 3x1 for us I was happy for my brother, seeing him smile like that makes me feel happy for him, but soon I changed the direction of my eyes to Jake, he looked so handsome with that smile and shining eyes, but I soon diverted my attention with chaewon asking me to get ice cream before we packed up
I sat in the store chair and soon an attendant with feline eyes came to assist us
"- hello, have you already chosen your preferences??" he said with a smile on his face showing his dimples on his cheeks
"- oh, yes, I would like flaky ice cream and you y/n?" She said looking in my direction catching my attention
"- um, I would like strawberry ice cream please!" I said nervously because I thought he was really cute.
"'- ok! would you like anything else?" He looked in my direction and I immediately spoke
"- could I know your name?? sorry if you feel uncomfortable" I said embarrassed
"- oh okay, my name is jungwon, and yours, miss?"
"- my name is y/n, nice to meet you"
"- the pleasure is all mine y/n, I'll prepare your orders and be right back" he said going directly to the counter
I then looked towards chaewon seeing the mischievous smile on her face
"- shut up chaewon" I said
"- but I didn't say anything" she said between smiles
after a few minutes you saw jugwon returning to your table with your orders, he placed the orders on the table and then gave you a wink
you felt your heart skip a beat, and your face turned red
"- you fall in love very quickly y/n" you whispered shut up to her and started to enjoy your ice cream
"- oh, y/n, he left you a note" she pointed to the note next to her bowl and you immediately took it
"XX XXXXX-XXXX" call me ❤️
You got home, took a shower and went to change, I did my makeup, not too strong but not too soft, soon I heard Chaewon come back from the shower
"- hey y/n, did you send a message to jungwon??" she said
"- I'll send it now, I'm just going to apply some lip gloss" I did and then added his number to my phone
*-hii, it's me y/n!
Surprisingly he responded very quickly
*-hii y/n, how are you?
*-I'm fine, what are you doing??
*-I'm getting ready for my friend Jay's party, and you?
*- what a coincidence!! I'll be there too lol
*-that's good, I'll see you there then
*- ok, bye
*- see you soon, princess
"- chaewon from heaven, jungwon is also going to the party!!"
"- that's great!! Just don't get too excited maybe your brother won't like it very much"
"you can leave it" I told her putting on my short black dress, showing too much skin and wearing my heels
Arriving at the crowded party, we were immediately greeted by the jay
"-y/n, you came, you wonderful"He said, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing
"- you too park" you said putting your arms around him
"- ok ok, let's go y/n, we have to get our drinks"
"meet me later?" Jay asks in my ear, I nod slightly and he smiles sideways
I went towards the kitchen with Chaewon to get the drinks, we took them and went to look for my brother
Then I see him and I go towards him, and he looks to the side and sees me, He looked at my clothes not very happy
"why did you come with that outfit y/n" he said looking into my eyes but I didn't care and went to greet the people
After a while, I got a little drunk, but I was still conscious, I went to the dance floor and started dancing, after a while I felt someone's hand on my hip
"you look beautiful y/n" I hear a familiar voice in my ear, I look over my shoulder and see Jungwon
"so you came jungwon" I said touching his chest
"but of course, I was giving up but you said you would come" he said dancing with you
you started to dance rubbing against her, and soon you heard a moan in your ear
"holy shit y/n, you dance really well" you looked at him and looked at the bulge in his pants and then pulled him to a distant place
"the kitten was excited?? I'll help you with that" you immediately pulled him in for a kiss, asking for passage with your tongue which he accepted with open arms, he squeezed your waist pulling you closer so you could feel his bulge
You soon got on your knees and massaged him over his pants and he soon moaned slyly
pulling down his pants along with his boxer shorts his dick jumped almost hitting his face, you spat on your hand and started caressing him
"please y/n, I need you" he said slyly, as much as you want him you won't lose your virginity in the bathroom, so you decided to use your mouth
You stuck your tongue out and put him in, he soon let out a moan, accelerating his pace, his legs began to tremble with so much pleasure, he pulled the back of your head closer to his pelvis making you choke.
"I'm coming y/n...I'm coming" he said, letting out a loud and sly moan, you sped up and gave him a blowjob, which made him release his orgasm deep in his throat, moaning loudly
You took him out of your mouth, and he fixed his pants and then pulled you in for a kiss.
"you did so good for me princess, do you want me to reward you?"
"no need jungwon, I appreciate it but my brother is already going to look for me, will I see you around?"
"definitely" he left a peck on your lips and walked away
you went to the kitchen to drink some water, and soon you heard a laugh, You turned back and soon saw Jake
"what a beautiful performance you did with that boy, I didn't know you were like that, kitten "he said with a teasing smile on his face
"I hope you keep your mouth shut" you looked at him and noticed something shiny on his neck, it looked like....no..it couldn't be, before he said something you questioned
"jaeyun, what necklace is that around your neck?" you said calmly, you looked at his wide eyes and you already knew the answer.
jake was wonbin
" so does that mean you lied to me the whole time? I trusted you " you tremble
"y/n no, it's not that, it's just" you immediately interrupted him
"that's what!!! fuck jake, you literally impersonated someone I don't even know now!! you fooled me for 10 years!! do you understand that?!" You said with anger in your eyes.
"the reason is because I'm fucking in love with you!! I've been in love with you since I was a child!! I literally had to put up with you being with these useless boys for years!! now I had to witness you giving that son of a bitch a blowjob" he He came closer pinning you to the wall making you look at him scared.
“you belong to me y/n, you always belonged to me!!” He said grabbing your wrist pulling you to the guest room, entering the room he soon threw you on the bed and locked the door
"Now I'm going to show you, kitten, who you belong to" he said hovering over you, kissing you roughly
"fuck I've been waiting for this for years kitten, I love you so much, if I see you with him I'll kill him, do you understand?!" He didn't hear any response and slapped your ass, soon hearing a moan coming from you.
"with words princess"
"yes, I understand...jake, I belong only to you"
Satisfied with your answer, he takes off your shirt and then helps you take off yours, then bends down to kiss your neck, leaving several marks on it.
Ele abriu seu sutiã e começou a chupar seu mamilo, recebendo vários gemidos seus.
He kissed my breasts going to my belly, while he kissed my belly he pulled down my panties
"how beautiful you are, kitten, how did you hide this from me, hmm" he put my legs on his shoulder and I started kissing my clitoris, starting to suck it, moving his tongue down to my entrance
"so good..hm" I said between moans, as he accelerated his tongue at my entrance making me feel that knot in my belly
"are you close kitten?" sucking my clit more fiercely making me moan loudly
"I'm close jaeyun, ah" my orgasm arrived making a mess on his beautiful face, he licked everything and got up to give me a kiss
"you have amazing taste kitten, I could stay there for hours" placing me underneath him while he placed his dick at my entrance
"hm, jake...I'm a virgin" I said immediately for fear of hurting, he looked at me with wide eyes
"so I'm going to be your first time?..I'm going to make sure this is your first time with me and forever" he said with possessiveness in his voice
He wrapped my legs around his hips, and caressed my hips
"I'm going to take it easy at first, okay, just don't tense up, otherwise it won't hurt more" he placed his dick at my entrance again and started to penetrate, I felt discomfort at first and a burning sensation but I didn't want to stop
"you're so tight..." he moaned after his cock was inside me, he waited a few minutes for me to get used to it
"can you move, please" he shook his hips calmly, but then he started accelerating
"do you think that boy's dick would satisfy like mine? huh, kitten?" he spoke rudely while looking at me, speeding up even more, until he made me feel him in my womb
"no... no jake.." I said moaning slyly as the pleasure was overwhelming, he placed his hand below my navel and squeezed
"you feel that, it's my dick buried deep inside you" I looked at my belly as I saw his dick hitting my skin, I fell with my head back moaning loudly as my second orgasm was approaching
"your pussy is so good kitten, it was made for me" he moaned loudly as he accelerated his pace, making us feel enchanting pleasure "I'm close y/n, I'm coming, I'm going to bury my children deep in your pussy so you can get pregnant with me so no other man can look at you, only me" after he said that I spilled on top of him, my juices running down his my pussy to my legs, meanwhile Jake was perceiving his high, still making me moan with the overstimulation
"I'm coming...calm down...I'm coming" I felt his cock twitch inside me as he moaned slyly on top of me
He fell next to me and pulled me into his chest, stroking my hair, I felt so loved at that moment.
"you did so well for me kitten, I love you" he got up and went to the bathroom getting a wet towel to clean me up
After cleaning me, he told me to change because my brother was going to look for me, I put my dress back on and started to fix my hair.
At the moment Jake was putting on his shirt because that was the last piece of clothing he was missing, the door opened, and who was there?
park sunghoon...my brother
"oh sorry..." he looked at my face then at jake immediately his eyes went dark
"What the fuck!!" it's me and jaeyun are dead now.
part 2??
#enhypen hard hours#enha smut#enhypen jake#sunghoon#enhypen smut#jungwon smut#sim jaeyun#jake smut#jake x reader#jake enhypen angst#park sunghoon
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Everything's Fine
As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.
(Takes place during Act 1)
Word Count - 3.5k
Also available to read here on AO3!
Enjoy!
xxx
You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now.
Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon.
No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you, judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul.
You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with.
Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel.
“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!”
“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.”
“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.”
“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!”
The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.”
“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.”
Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades.
“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well.
“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!”
Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.”
At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind.
It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp.
“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!”
“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.”
“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.”
“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence.
“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.”
Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.”
You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze.
“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.”
“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace.
“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.”
“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in.
“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.”
He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.”
“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel.
“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.”
A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.
‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’
The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy.
The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite.
You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you.
You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people.
“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel.
What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him.
“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.”
“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.”
“Why not just buy new clothes?”
Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment.
“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected.
“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.”
Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.”
The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?”
Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by.
“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.”
You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye.
Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?
It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine.
“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix.
“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.”
“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.”
His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine.
“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.”
You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him.
You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone.
A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth.
“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?”
“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?”
“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.”
“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.”
“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.”
You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable.
His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic.
Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur.
Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.”
“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.”
Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?”
You grimaced.
“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?”
His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.”
Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.”
“This isn’t a joking matter!”
“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!”
Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that.
“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.”
Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today.
“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.”
When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament.
What kind of leader were you?
“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...”
His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.
“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?”
He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting.
“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?”
You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart.
Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.”
He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you.
“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?”
You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease.
Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m-”
“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.”
You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out.
But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze.
Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable.
“Would you like to stay in here for a while?”
Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod.
“Then come on, scooch over.”
As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother.
“...I’m sorry."
From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?”
You managed a small chuckle at that.
“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.”
You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence.
And exhale.
xxx
Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!
*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)
#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#astarion x tav#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3#my writing#tw panic attack
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elixir of the damned ⇾ bgc. [M]
⎡sun bright, sun light burns the flesh of those that bite. moon’s gleam, night’s scream as shadows linger in lonely blight. but in the dark where spirits wail, a witch will rise— her power prevails⎦
⌁ pairing; vampire!chan x witch!reader (f.)
⌁ genre; vampire au, s2l, some angst, smut, 18+
⌁ word count; 19.5k
⌁ summary; leech, nightcrawler, monster— chris is a vampire aching for sunlight. when he swims to a witch’s hidden island, badly burned, she offers him a secret remedy to survive daylight; he must drink her blood during her cycle, unleashing her true power and binding them for life.
⌁ warnings; graphic depictions and consumption of blood, graphic depictions of severe wounds, dom!chan, sub!reader, masturbation (f.), voyeurism, degradation, slight humiliation, rough sex, period sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, rough oral (f. receiving), body worship, spanking, teasing, slight edging, cum eating, blood play
⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 prefer ao3? keep reading here
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a special thanks to dee ( @awrkives ) for making this sexy banner for me, and to my ride or die beta reader, jen ( @anobodyslove ) for consistently supporting me and reading over all the nonsense i write. i am nothing without you.
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 please enjoy this final Chantober fic!
On the brink of winter, Elderwood is a haze of greys. Roads are bleak black. Sidewalks are cracked and chipped. Streetlights illuminate no more than five inches in diameter, dim and distant. Seemingly void of life, the little town exhales a puff of condensation as it inches towards November. In a matter of days, the saturated warmth of autumn reds will wither, the cold air frosting over every morning, until all pigment completely fades.
It’s depressing to watch the world around him drain of colour as he wanders the streets. Still, Chris is grateful for the consistency. One thing he can always count on is the changing seasons. He may not be getting older, but the world is.
The wind whips against his muscular frame. It should make him shiver, but he can barely feel the chill, only aware of the wind because of its force. The only time he ever felt the cold was midnight on a particularly wet February two years ago. It was pouring down on him as he walked back to Jisung’s house from the shore. The wind was knocking down street signs. The earth was drenched and cold. Chris felt the chills on his skin, the faint prickle of goosebumps. He inhaled and pretended his lungs worked, filling up with oxygen. Pulling his shirt off, he exhaled and pretended a cloud of air was breathed out. The chills running down his spine made it easy to pretend he was alive.
Now, Chris pretends he can feel the breeze blowing through his muscle tee, still exhilarated by the memory.
There are only two moments when he forgets he’s a vampire. One is when he can feel the cold, and the other is when he’s feeding. The taste of bitter iron and copper staining his tongue makes him feel real . With every gulp, Chris can feel the consumed blood run through his veins, drenching his heart and organs. There is the lightest hue of pink in his skin once he’s done. It lasts for a few hours before it fades and he grows hungry again. As much as it annoys him, Chris looks forward to every meal.
In a matter of days, he will be closing in on eight years as a vampire.
Leech, nightcrawler, monster— Chris cannot block out the voices that chime in every time he thinks about that word. They loop in slow circles around his mind on a daily basis and taunt him between his insecurities and mistakes.
He’s not sure how it happened. He stopped sleeping. It was hard to keep things down. He didn’t like to eat much before swim practise anyways. Even a bite of food would sit like a rock in his stomach. He’d have to excuse himself five minutes into his laps to empty his stomach in the nearest trash can.
“Knocked up?” one of his teammates teased from the pool.
Chris wiped his chin with the back of his wrist. He glared at the diver, eyes wet and red, before clearing his throat, swallowing thickly, and diving back in himself.
Hand on his stomach now, Chris yearns for that disgusting feeling that burned his chest and scratched at his throat. He hates throwing up, but it seems so humane now to get sick, to feel sick.
Once he attempted to starve himself in hopes of emulating something similar to an illness. All it did was make him irritable, almost rabid. He thought it would at least be similar to sleep deprivation but it instead sharpened his supernatural senses for blood.
More than anything though, Chris misses the sun. Every morning, he senses its warmth against the boarded windows of Jisung’s basement. For a handful of minutes, he can bypass his inherent fear of the sun to imagine beams of light cascading over him. He imagines the heat kissing his flesh, returning his admiration, and basks in the feign brightness.
Sand invades his shoes.
Chris opens his eyes to find the sea before him. The waves crash against the shore, inches away from his toes. He inhales sharply. Salt and seaweed plague his tongue. He swallows breathfuls of the scent anyway, chasing nostalgia.
He took his first steps here, had his first kiss by the rocks at thirteen, learned to swim, to build extravagant sandcastles and raced along the shoreline with Jisung and Changbin. How many summers had he guarded the lives of beachgoers? How many bonfire bashes had he patrolled?
Chris gazes out at the horizon. His enhanced vampiric senses have sharpened his sight, refining the mesmerising image of the serene scenery. Even the far island of Crow’s Nest looks clearer. It has been bogged down by heavy fog for as long as he can remember. Sometimes the island seems so hazy, Chris is only reminded of its presence by the crows circling around it. He smiles to himself as he recalls the countless times he, Changbin and Jisung dared each other to swim towards it, each one boasting about how they would be the one to swim the closest only to rush back to shore.
Fuck— it all feels like a life time ago.
The ocean laps closer to Chris’s feet. He surveys his surroundings. Fog settles over the quiet town. Silence replies to his inquisitive stare. He turns back to the sea and considers the horizon. It must be nearing four or five in the morning, dawn slowly approaching. The sky is mostly cloudy too.
He wonders if— No.
His vampiric instincts shudder at the thought. Chris fights through it, resisting the urge to turn around and hurry back to Jisung’s basement.
I have time , he mentally hisses.
The sun won’t be up for another hour or so, and given how considerably cloudy it is, he might have an extra fifteen minutes to collect his clothes and rush back into the safe darkness of the basement. His enhanced speed would get him there within ten minutes anyway.
Chris tugs at the hem of his shirt while kicking off his shoes. He feels the wind push around his muscular torso. He takes a moment to inhale deeply, swallowing the scent of the salty sea, and resists the urge to gag. Determined not to let the suppressed reaction discourage him, he unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his briefs. For a second, he braces himself, expecting a chill upon his full nudity.
Then the reality of his being sets in.
He huffs an annoyed groan and marches into the water. He’s so frustrated he doesn’t feel it at first. However, as he continues to wade further into the ocean, the water now lapping just above his waist, Chris shivers .
Cold— ice cold. The sea welcomes him home.
Chris chuckles, relief blossoming in his chest. He caresses the surface of the water as another chuckle tumbles out of his full lips. If he was still human, tears would prick his eyes from the sheer relief of finally feeling something. Embracing the biting chill, he dives in.
Under deep blue darkness, the world muffles around him. He points his hands in front of him, the same way he was training eight years ago, and propels further into the ocean. Seaweed dances beneath his feet, the current moves around him. Being undead gives him an advantage as he can remain submerged for longer now.
Twirling, swirling, he swims and swims— faster than he could before his shift. The rush of the waves propel him further into the water, caressing his toned body. Chris suppresses a smile as he watches fish dart and algae float around him.
When he finally surfaces, he lets out a heavy breath on instinct, but he doesn’t care. He pushes his hair back and wipes his nose, heaving anyway because in this still moment, Chris is teetering on the edge of humanity for the very first time in eight years.
Looking back to the shore, he finds that he may have gotten carried away. The mainland is almost a figment of his imagination with the amount of distance he has created.
And Crow’s Nest is completely visible.
Chris looks between the shore and the island, then lets out a full bellied laugh, one he hasn’t been able to muster in years. Changbin and Jisung are never going to believe him when he tells them he got this close to Crow’s Nest .
Not only is it far, but most believe the island is haunted. Townies for years have claimed to witness figures lurking between the trees and flickering lights throughout the night. Someone once swore they saw a figure flying over the island on a broomstick amongst the crows. Throughout the years, many sceptics have tried to travel to the island, only to be deterred by the current and pushed back to shore. Changbin once told him that one person did make it onto the island but was never heard from again.
Chris was not completely convinced by the tall-tales of Crow’s Nest, but he still constantly felt unsettled by its presence.
However, surveying the island now, he cannot remember why he was so scared. Sure, the myths were strange, but they were myths in the end.
Vampires were once a myth , a little voice murmurs.
Stifling the sinister voice, Chris looks to the sky and finds it’s still a swirl of charcoal grey and slated blue. His smile returns before another chuckle bubbles from his eased chest. Floating upon the surface, he lays back, allowing the current to guide him for a moment. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the fading sensation of the cold upon his pale skin.
While Chris knows he has more time to revel in this rare human moment, he cannot help the anxiety festering in the base of his stomach. What if he never feels this way again? What if he has to wait another eight years to feel something, anything again? And yes, this has been a cathartic experience by himself, but some of his favourite human memories are shared with his loud, chaotic friends. He can imagine Changbin complaining about how deep the water is and Jisung making jokily suggestive comments about how naked they all are. He would never be able to convince them to go skinny dipping in the middle of October at dawn. Changbin is too much of a whiny baby to handle the cold and Jisung sleeps as deep as the dead— Chris would know being undead himself.
So, while he may feel a fraction of his humanity again, he cannot forget that he is still alone.
A sense of deep danger surges through him, silver eyes snapping open. Amber light spills across the once frosty charcoal-blue sky.
The sun is rising.
His vampiric instincts rage in his chest, as if scolding him for being so reckless.
Chris internally curses at himself. He’s about to swim back to shore when he notices rays of light shining against the sand, inching towards his clothes.
Fuck .
How long had he been floating? When did time start to move this quickly? The last eight years have felt like eternity, but it’s as though the last two hours flew by within twenty minutes.
Chris lets out a shaky sigh and considers his options. He can try to make it back to shore and sprint home, grabbing his clothes later (if the current doesn’t swallow them). He can try to dive deep enough in the water to evade the sun, but risk drowning over and over for the next twelve hours. Or…
A murder of crows circle the island to his right.
Crow’s Nest.
“ Shit ,” he mutters under his breath.
Chris dives. He uses all his strength to fight against the current. The closer he’s gets to the island, the harsher the ocean becomes. The waves are not forceful, simply persistent with their suggestion to turn back. It’s as if the sea is warning him against reaching the island.
He fights through it still, pushing himself to swim faster.
Though he does not have a pulse, Chris is heaving by the time he can walk onto the shore. He runs a hand through his hair and spits the excess seawater out of his mouth. Leaning on his knees, he takes a moment, for the first time in eight years, to catch his breath.
Vision blurring, hands shaking, Chris mutters a string of vulgar curses. The swim has depleted his energy. Thirst— No, hunger gnaws at his chest, his gut, his very being, tearing through his innate instincts to find shade. His senses instead sharpen for a hunt. The scent of crow, frail and small, immediately overwhelms him. He can nearly taste the thick blood that pumps under their onyx feathers.
“ Ah!” Chris hisses, jolting forwards as the light nips at his ankles.
The sun .
Using the last bit of his strength, Chris dashes towards the trees. However, as he’s about to cross into the safety of the shade, the sun strikes, scorching his skin.
Chris screams, collapsing to his knees. His back stings with a relentless hiss. Scurrying forward, he manages to make it into the shade with only a few more minimal, yet painful welts on his thighs and calves. He chokes back more groans as his pale skin bubbles and burns from the intense heat.
He shifts further into what he thinks is the shade, trembling and whimpering, when the breeze kicks in and rattles the already loose leaves from the trees. Chris looks up, watching a gap form and give way for another attack from the sun.
Bright rays blaze his face. Another fraught scream tears through his throat and he tries to shield his eyes with his arm. Only one eye could be saved, the other feels as though it is melting into his skull.
Pain, pain— aching pain. Chris screams, his voice cracking as he channels that last of his strength and throws himself against the tree stump with unnatural speed.
Hiccuped moans tumble from his wounded, cracked lips. He heaves, voice nothing more than a wheezing shattered mess. His flesh deteriorates, once eternal body now crumbling under the bright light. The rotting smell of his dead body simmers around him, brewing nausea deep in his gut.The sand bites into his burnt skin, like salt on a fresh wound. Whimpering, he grits his teeth and attempts to bear the pain.
It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. It’s not tha—
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, the pain overtaking his mind. He tries to repeat the phase again but can barely get past the first syllable.
Chris knows he can’t stay here. The sun will move, the light will shift, the fucking wind will betray him. He is not guaranteed safety if more leaves fall and the light seeps through again. Yet, he cannot move. Without blood to sustain his movements or renew his vampiric healing abilities, he might just die anyway.
So, Chris simply stares at the clutter of copper and gold leaves around him and suppresses whimpers. Is this the sickness he was previously craving to feel? Is this the humanistic pain he so badly yearned for? Chris cannot help but curse at himself over and over as his vision slowly blurs.
Is this really how it ends , he wonders. Wet from the sea, hot from the sun, eight years of demonic hell inch to this painful end.
Coughing up bile, he spits it over his shoulder and exhales deeply. Well, at least, he was able to experience a final moment of humanity, even if it was alone. And when he sees Changbin and Jisung again, he’ll tell them all about how he swam to Crow’s Nest and wasn’t immediately devoured by the monsters that they believe lurk within.
And if nothing else , he thinks as the darkness slowly closes in on him, I had one last moment in the sun.
“What have you done to yourself?”
A soft flowery voice caresses him. Chris mentally leans into the feminine allure of the voice, allowing himself to be wrapped in her gentle tone.
Then, the voice suddenly solidifies shattering the warm cocoon Chris found himself giving into, as she repeats, tone firmer now, “Are you insane?”
Chris tilts his head, choking on more bile as a surge of pain ripples through him. A curvy figure dressed in a thin, white sundress rushes towards him. He can barely make out her face, his sight almost completely gone, but her scent— fresh rain, lavender and sage— overwhelms him. For a second, he sees himself strolling through a field of wildflowers after a rainstorm, following the full figured beauty into the warmth of the light.
“Wow, you’re really naked,” she suddenly mumbles under her breath.
Voice raspy, Chris asks, “Are… you an angel?”
Soft hands cup his face; delicate, sweet, and gentle. Chris tries to regain some semblance of his sight, eager to take in her ethereal features but the pain hinders his focus.
And then, all at once, darkness claims him.
Dawn is still. While the sun peeks through clusters of clouds, the sky shifts from pale blue to rose-gold. The wind, once flowing through the small cottage through the open windows, disappears. Even the crows, who often guard your little hideaway, fall silent.
You freeze mid-chop and turn towards the backdoor. A murder of crows still lingers around your backyard, but they seem rigid, as if they are not sure how to react.
Furrowing your brows, you set down your knife and abandon your half-chopped eggplant. You wipe your hands on your apron, making your way to the door.
A loud buzzing rings through your ears, stopping you mid-stride. You furrow your brows, senses finally flaring.
Abandoning the back door, you move towards the front instead. The moment you pull it open, you feel it— the shift in the air, swirling with panic, fear and… pain ?
A loud scream suddenly echoes through the morning fog, taut and sharp.
Chills run down your spine.
You’ve found many injured animals while hiding in Crow’s Nest within the last decade. You’ve repaired broken bones, mended mangled wings and even helped beached sea creatures find their way back into the ocean. However, nothing you have encountered has ever sounded so huge.
Shaking off your nerves, you step out and shut the door behind you. The wind picks up, colder than before. It ruffles through your white sundress, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself. Another frail scream echoes, this time starling the crows back into motion. Hawthorne, your clingiest crow, lands on your front porch with a concerned tilt of his head, as if coming to check on you. Your face deadpans as more crows settle on the rickety, oak wood and peer up at you.
“You literally saw me from the garden,” you sigh. Stepping around them, you ask, “Do you know where that sound came from?”
Poe squawks before fluttering into flight, and a few other crows follow after him as well. You trail behind them, pulling your wand out from between your breasts. You assume that whatever washed up on your island must be harmless enough for your wards not to alert you upon its arrival. Still, you keep your twelve-inch mahogany wand, the polished ebony wood twisted and glittering like silver stars, steady before you.
Rotten vanilla and burnt, parched oak intoxicate your next breath. The scent envelopes you in despair, as you draw closer to the source. Heaving, whimpering, coughing, the broken sounds of pain become clearer with every step.
And then you see him— extremely pale and teetering consciousness. His face, which might have once been a handsome blend of soft masculinity, is grey and blistering. Arm, shoulder, ribs; the left side of his body is peeling skin, almost as if dusting and rotting all at once. The edges of the wounds are lined with black. It’s as though he’d been charred under open flames.
“What have you done to yourself?” you whisper under your breath.
You draw nearer, trying to make sense of this… being? You’re not quite sure what he is. He most definitely cannot be a human. He should be bleeding and the welts would be blistering, eager to reverse the damage.
His eyes squint open and you almost miss it. The right one is a rich chocolate, purely humanistic and warming. The left, however, is a blinding silver. Swimming with thirst and desperation, even exhausted, that gleaming grey eye conveys more threats than promises.
Vampire .
Dawn, light, burns, it all starts to make sense.
“Are you insane?”
He chokes on bile, resting his head back against the tree trunk.
As he tries to find his voice, you take a moment to scan his frame, looking for more wounds. It’s then that you notice just how naked he is. Guilt and shame fester in your chest at the realisation that, despite the wounds, he does not look so bad, perhaps even… attractive.
Your attention lingers below his waist. The sight heats your face. “Wow, you’re really naked,” you whisper more to yourself than him.
“Are…” he starts, summoning your attention back to his mismatched eyes, “you an angel?”
The question startles you. After a few blinks, you swallow thickly and clear your throat.
Wraith, nightshader, monster— you’ve been called many names throughout your life as a blood-witch. Your previous coven conjured most of the insults, but the mundane town of Elderwood has never been a friend to the supernatural either, despite its mythical origins. Ridiculed for your magic, banished by family and supposed friends, you didn’t think you’d ever meet another paranormal being, let alone be confused for an angel.
Cupping his face, you decide that he’s delirious. Scorched by the sun, thirsty for blood (if his nearly translucent skin is any indication), he probably took one look at your white dress and assumed he was dying.
You gasp as he suddenly falls limp in your hands. You’re about to check his pulse when you remember he’s a vampire. Muttering curses, you stand up.
“Create some shade,” you order the crows. As they cluster overhead, you add, “We need it dark enough to move him.”
More crows fly in to help, clouding over the wounded vampire to shield him from the rising sun.
Deep breath in and out, you centre yourself. Your lungs carry his festering scent, the faint notes of sweet vanilla and sturdy, dry oak soothing your erratic heart.
You open your eyes with a heavy, steady exhale. Holding out your wand, you dig your heels into the ground. Magic flickers from your fingertips and warps into the wand, waiting for your direction. Only, you’re not sure if you’re making the right choice.
Healing animals, saving helpless lives is much of what you do on this little island, besides tending to your magical garden, brewing potions and crafting talismans. You’ve always felt grounded when you’re able to help someone, anyone . The only other time you feel as accomplished and useful is when you update your journal. Keeping a detailed grimoire of new spells, potions, thoughts, and observations has been your only other source of stabilising your sanity amidst such a solitary life.
But, a vampire is not some other helpless animal. You don’t know a lot about the blood-demons, only that they have been damned upon their own moment of desperation. He clearly made naive deals without much consideration of the consequences. And the fact that he wandered out in daylight does not help his case.
He could be recently turned or just simply stupid and desperate. Either way, you wonder if this is a good idea. Moving him would mean inviting him into your home. Is that really the wisest decision? It would mean that he would have access to the little cottage without your permission, even if you reinforce your wards. Your invitation would be enough to welcome him in every time.
Still, you know you cannot heal him out here. The sun will shift and only shine brighter throughout the day. The crows can only fly for so long as well. And while your magic is malleable, it is not infinite. It will not be able to sustain a shield weaved of your powers without an anchor like the hearth of your cottage to truly ground and replenish your strength. The only way to save him would be to bring him into your sanctuary.
Or, a little voice mutters, you can just let him die.
You recognise that internal voice as your mother’s. It carries the same sharpness and disdain for your intuitive decisions. You’re not surprised it has reared its ugly head in a moment of uncertainty and distress. It often has a habit of kicking you while you’re down, or coaxing the worst out of you.
Shoving the vile voice back to the farthest corner of your mind, you wave your wand. The handsome vampire levitates under the allure of your magic.
“We move as one,” you order. “And, be careful.”
The crows mutter amongst themselves, but follow your commands. Together, you slowly move further into the forest.
Once you step foot onto the porch, the cottage anticipates your needs. The windows and curtains shut and candles flicker to life along with the hearth. You push open both front doors to accommodate his broad frame. Guiding him into your living room, you wonder if he was an athlete or swimmer prior to turning. His lean yet muscular figure indicates one or both hobbies.
Shame rises in your chest again. You have no idea what has gotten into you. When did you become so perverted and disgusting? How could you check out a wounded man so casually like that, like he’s not unconscious and on the brink of death?
Swallowing your shame away, you lay him down on your soft, velvet green sofa. He sinks into the comfortable cushions, still and frail. Draping a handknitted, midnight black blanket over him, you notice his skin becoming grey. And even the parts that have not been touched by the sun begin to peel.
You mutter a curse and rush to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets, you look between jars of carefully crafted salves and mud masks. Aloe, honey, shea butter, coconut– what the fuck would heal the undead flesh of a vampire? If he was conscious, you’d give him a jar of blood from your preserves and hope that with enough consumption, he’d eventually heal himself.
The cottage attempts to help you. It pushes open drawers of loose ingredients. Even a few stray crows, who managed to sneak in before the house could shut the door behind you, fly from book to book, trying to inspire you to just look up the information you need. You wave off the house and ignore the crows. You need something quick and complete. You don’t have time to brew something or search through old pages.
Shifting its approaches, the cottage offers salves you’ve already made and saved from different cabinets around the kitchen. It hovers the jars before you, continuously suggesting a variety of creams as you wave them off.
You’re about to wave off the next suggestion when the name catches your eye: Sunveil Balm . Golden yarrow and rosemary oil, lunar lilac extract, white ash bark powder, dewdrop resin, the essence of morning fog and the rare but potent dust of golden pearls, you remember crafting the balm for a bat with scorched wings. It stayed out in the sun for much too long one blistering summer and received several burns. A few generous swipes of the salve repaired the damage within ten minutes.
You snatch the gold-shimmering cream, darting back to the living room. With a wave of your hand, the jar twists open. You dip into the pot and scoop out a good amount before gently tilting his face and slathering the soft, creamy balm over his left cheekbone and temple.
Mismatched eyes of brown and grey snap open. A loud scream tears through his throat as the wound hisses under the golden salve. He instinctively brings a hand up to his face to wipe it off, only for the salve to burn his fingers.
“Shit,” you murmur before shouting, “Get me blood, now!”
The cottage complies, hovering various jars of animal blood in front of you. It’s the human blood that catches your eye, though. You know that if you want him to recover quickly, you have to supply him with your best stocks. Human blood, however, is rare for you. Without a coven of well-connected witches, harvesting human blood from your remote little island has proved to be a difficult and daunting task. You only have about five large jars left.
He trembles into the sofa, choking on his own bile.
You sigh, realising you’ve made it this far. You have already invited him into your home and made the decision to save him. If that weren’t enough, you’ve just deepened his pain with fresh burns.
With another wave of your hand, you twist the jar of human blood open, then snatch it from the air. “Shh, shh,” you calmly whisper, snaking your arm under his head to support the lift of his neck. He tries to swallow thickly, but chokes on the smell of fresh, cold blood. You bring the lip of the jar closer to his mouth and administer small, careful sips.
You watch as his eyes roll back from the taste. Arousal pools between your thighs. You curse yourself three times over for the way your body reacts. It’s been ten years of using your wand as a vibrator or making do with your fingers. You tell yourself that it’s simply pathetic desperation, a chronic need for human interaction that triggers this sort of reaction to him. Shame and regret still tighten in your chest, encouraging the continuation of your internal insults and curses.
A croaky groan echoes within the jar, pulling you out of your thoughts. The vampire sits himself up and takes the jar from you. He starts to down the blood in large gulps. His chest heaves, throat bobs and rogue trails of blood leak from the corner of his lips.
You stand and turn away from him, much too aroused by the animalistic sight. Trying to ground yourself, you take shaky breaths in and out, and focus on the length of your breaths, the sound of the exhale. You don’t realise he’s done until you hear him clear his throat.
Turning back to face him, you find his skin has solidified back to its normal pale, white colour. The black soot around his wounds remains along with a few remaining welts, however life (or lack thereof) has returned to his undead body.
“More?” He quietly asks, voice deep and husky.
You nod and hold a hand towards the kitchen. Another large jar of human blood shoots into your grasp. The vampire blinks as you wave the lid open, and lower the glass down to him. He trades you the empty one, letting his attention drift up and down your frame.
Your shoulders roll back, chest puffing forward under his curious gaze.
You are pathetic , you think to yourself.
Embarrassed by your actions, you leave him in the living room with his meal and return to the kitchen. Hawthorne and Poe perch on the counter by your recipe books. They cast disapproving stares in the dim candlelight as you enter.
You roll your eyes and whisper, “He was dying.” When they continue to silently judge, you add, “I happen to recall a time when two little birdies got into a fight for the fourth time and begged me to help them even when they promised not to let it happen again. So, maybe we shouldn’t be so judgemental.”
Both crows tilt their heads downwards in shame.
“Who are you talking to?”
You squeal, jolting as you turn to face the vampire. He stands in the archway of your kitchen, blanket wrapped around his waist. He clutches the soft fabric with one hand by his hip and the empty jar with the other. You resist the urge to look at his fully healed chest, knowing it will only further arouse you, and fixate your attention on his face.
While the blood has completely reversed the damage of the sun on his skin, his eyes still remain discoloured. You draw closer to examine it, getting within a hand’s reach before remembering that you two are still strangers, he’s still naked and there’s still steaks of blood staining his chin.
He raises a brow at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
Does he think I’m into him , you wonder as panic fills your chest. You clear your throat and take a step back.
“Your eye,” you start, pointing to your left one, “It’s still silver.”
He reaches up to touch it. Understanding shifts his features from arrogance to self-caution.
“Do you need more blood?” you ask, wondering if perhaps more consumption would help.
He shakes his head. “I’m full,” he replies. Stepping into the kitchen, he holds the empty jar out for you.
You take it and place it on the counter by the other one he finished. You turn back to face him, regrettably letting your gaze flicker down his defined chest again. It’s buff and broad, the perfect addition to his strong shoulders. His waist is slim, toned and narrows down to delicate hips that you are sure have some unforgiving moments. Internally cursing yourself for your lack of self-control, you note that, at least this time, you’re lusting after him while he’s conscious and not in active pain.
He suddenly clears his throat, beckoning your attention back to his face. A shy smile settles on his lip and he raises a brow.
Great , you sarcastically think, now he’s going to think I only helped him because I think he’s hot .
“I’m Chris,” he introduces, holding out his hand. “And I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”
You bite your lip. Maybe he was tired before or you were just too preoccupied by the gravity of the situation to catch it the first few times he spoke, but he has a thick, lazy accent that comforts your reclusive soul in ways it probably shouldn’t.
You offer your name, accepting his hand. The chill from his skin is all encompassing and it takes everything in you not to shiver. After a couple of good shakes, you release his hand to reach back and grab a clean tea towel. You hand it to him and gesture to your chin. “You’ve got a bit of blood,” you carefully inform.
Chris scrubs his face harshly. You thought the knotting brows and darkening eyes were an indication of embarrassment upon the mention of the little mess he made of himself. However, from the way he drags the tea towel over his newly healed skin, you wonder if he is upset, perhaps hateful.
“Thanks,” he mutters again, catching your lingering gaze.
You take the tea towel back when he’s done and toss it to Poe. The little crow catches the stained cloth and flies it over to the dirty pile. A little amused smile plays on your lips as you watch Chris look between you and the crow. He parts his lips to ask something, but he cannot find his words.
“Let’s have a seat,” you softly suggest, nodding towards the archway. “You must be exhausted.”
Chris nods, letting out a heavy breath. He steps to the side to let you weave around him and lead the way back to the living room. His steps are so light and gentle as he follows. You probably wouldn’t have heard them if you weren’t paying such close attention, sneaking a look behind you.
His gaze focuses around your hips, or rather the sway of them. You catch him biting his lip before turning to face the front again. Letting out a shaky sigh, you try not to let the little gesture go straight to your head. You’ve received quite a few stares when you lived with your coven once upon a time ago. Most would either linger around your breasts or rear. Sometimes it was due to the sheer size of your voluptuous body and very rarely was it done in admiration when it came to staring at your arms or stomach or thighs. Your backside, however, always received that same carefully longing attention.
So, he doesn’t like you , you tell yourself. He just likes what he sees .
You take a seat on the black leather armchair by the fireplace, sinking into the comfortable cushions, and nod to the emerald couch he previously laid on.
Chris sits across from you. Shifting in his seat, he adjusts the blanket to properly cover his hips and crotch. Your eyes meet and, for a brief second, you swear you catch the lightest, faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck and spreading to his cheeks.
Shifting uncomfortably in your own seat, you offer an apologetic smile and say, “I don’t think I have any clothes for you.”
He returns the gentle gesture with a small grin of his own and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I can try to get the ones I left on the beach later tonight.”
You raise your brows at the new information. Leaning over one of the arms on your chair, you attempt to peek into the kitchen. “Hawthorne?” You shout.
Chris looks back at the archway only for Hawthrone to dart out. He flies over head, startling Chirs as he ducks his head to avoid the fast bird.
“Go to the mainland and see if you can find some clothes on the shore for me,” you order once he lands on the arm of your chair. “And take Tenny and Poe with you.”
Hawthorne squawks. He takes flight again, heading to the front door when you tsk at him. He returns to your side, waiting for instructions.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask then nod to the back of the cottage, “We have a sun sensitive visitor. Take the back door.”
He caws again and zooms right over Chris’s head. There is a ruffle of feathers, followed by more cawing before the slam of an open and shut window sounds.
Chris swallows thickly, sitting back into the couch. “So you talk to birds,” he says as a way to break the silence.
“Yup,” you nod.
He nods along with you, rubbing the back of his neck.
Your attention falls on his cleanly shaved armpits, the flex of his bicep. You cross your legs and press your thighs tightly together at the thought of being caught in a headlock, or cuddling under his arm and inhaling his thick, sickly sweet scent.
“Um,” he starts, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blink at him upon meeting his gaze. There is a knowing look in his mismatched eyes, and the faintest flicker between your own and your tense thighs. But he does not comment on your suddenly rigid posture. Gesturing to his face instead, he asks, “What was the–”
“Sunburn cream,” you answer, cutting him off. “It’s called Sunveil Balm. I guess it doesn’t work on vampires.”
He tentatively nods. “And what are you?” He registers the bluntness of his question the moment it leaves his full lips, and panic floods his eyes. Quickly, he adds, “No offence. It’s just– the magic–” he cuts himself off, pointing to your hands.
A little smile plays on your lips with a slip of a chuckle. ��I’m not offended,” you reassure, shaking your head. “I’m a witch. A blood-witch.”
“What makes a blood-witch different from a witch?”
“What makes a vampire different from a demon?”
Your voice is light and teasing but your playfulness falters at the sight of his concerned features.
“I-I’m a demon?” he asks, confusion creasing between his brows. He looks so lost, you’d think he’d never seen one before. It’s as if he didn’t conjure darkness to trade his soul away.
Perplexed yourself, you nod. “Well, yes. How did you not– No,” you shake your head with a few blinks, then look back at him, starting again, “How long have you been a vampire?”
“About eight years.”
“Eight?”
He confirms with a nod.
What the fuck?
Now, demons are tricky and conniving. They always make a deal that falls more in their favour than their summoner’s, but they have some decorum, especially towards each other. Upon their summoner’s shift into a vampire, the demon must have visited and informed him of his new, undead state. You recall reading about countless accounts of demons shadowing their newest additions and teaching them how to hunt, run and hide in the shadows. It’s common practice.
But more than that, you wonder how a vampire of eight years would miscalculate the rise of the sun and self-inflict such terrible wounds. Given the fact that he used his last bits of strength to find shade, you have to assume it wasn’t done on purpose. But, you also have a hard time believing that he’s naive enough to not know when the sun will rise during this time of year, especially after eight years of being undead. From the few books you’ve read on vampires during your studies as an apprentice, you know that they have a biological clock, an inherent instinct to not only avoid the sun, but fear it.
Chris, pretty eyes round and youthful face uncertain, looks like he woke up one day, never went to sleep again, and was never told why.
“Am I missing something?”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” you reply. “This doesn’t make sense. How did you turn? And why were you out this late, anyway?”
He bites on the inside of his cheeks and averts his gaze. “It’s complicated.”
Furrowing your brows, you’re not sure which question that was supposed to answer. You decide to take it one step at a time, asking, “Did you want to get burned?”
“No,” he immediately replies, meeting your gaze.
Had it not been for the firm eye contact, you might have doubted him.
“So, what is it then?”
“It’s just…” he trails off, running a hand through his damp hair. “Complicated.”
You raise a brow, lingering your attention on his head. Recalling your thoughts about his physic earlier, you wonder if he really is a swimmer. If he perhaps ventured too far out into the sea and exhausted himself in the process. However, noting the way he nervously averts his gaze, you decide to redirect the conversation to something that’s hopefully less complicated.
“You don’t need to tell me why you summoned the demon,” you start, knowing the reason must have been dire for him to turn to the darkness for help. “I just don’t understand how you didn’t know that you, technically, are one.”
His face scrunches in concentrated confusion. He thumbs his nose and tilts his head at your words, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s been cursed or simply a pretty face.
“I didn’t summon a demon. I just…” he trails off, averting his gaze as he searches for the best way to word his transition, “ became a vampire.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It’s what happened.”
“Explain the process,” you order, sitting back in your seat. “How did you know you were a vampire if no one told you?”
There is a twinge of challenge in his narrowing eyes. He flits his gaze up and down your relaxed frame and tongues his cheek. He then leans his elbows on his knees, broad shoulders now on full, flexed display under the warm glow of flickering candle lights.
You swallow thickly and force yourself to maintain eye contact.
“Do you always use that tone?” He suddenly asks, voice low and deep.
Barely above a whisper, you reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He smirks as newfound understanding glimmers in his silver eye. “That’s better,” he says before sitting back into his seat.
You’re not sure what’s more lethal, the way he leans forward, every curve of his muscles contrasted perfectly in the shadows of the dim lights, or the way he leans back, legs spread and chest open. Both are equally as inviting, enticing you to shed your inhibitions and completely lose yourself against him.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he starts, shattering your focus on his sprawl body. “I was feeling sick for weeks. I could barely keep up with my training, and–”
“Training?”
“I was a swimmer.”
Knew it – Your eyes flicker to his shoulders for a split second.
“I was the fastest on the team. I even had a scholarship,” he says. A faint smile hovers over his plush lips at the memory. “I stopped drinking. I stopped eating. And on the day of the championship, I was terrified to leave my dorm. I nailed wood and bedsheets over my window and hid under the bed. My friends found me at one point, much later in the night, and I…” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “I attacked them.”
You remain still, expression neutral. He watches you closely, as if waiting for a gasp or blink of acknowledgement.
“I just remember being really, really thirsty. I chased them through the courtyard until they talked me out of ripping them apart. And–” he cuts himself off with a little laugh.
You raise your brown trying to fight off your own smile at the sweet, deep rumble emitting from his buff chest.
“Sorry, I just remembered one of my friends’ screams– Changbin. He’s a complete wimp and was squealing the whole time. You’d like him. Everyone likes him,” he explains. When you return his sweet smile, he continues, “Anyway, they talked me out of killing them, helped me hunt a rabbit, which took too fucking long for three grown men, and then made fun of me while I drank it’s blood.”
“They sound like idiots,” you joke, fighting your own laughter at the image he crafted for you.
“They are,” he nods, voice thick with nostalgia. Then, he clears his throat and adds, “Anyway, there weren’t any demons or witches or anyone else. Just us and the internet.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “While that sounds like a terrible disaster,” you tease, much to his amusement, “that’s not really how vampires are made.”
“I wasn’t bitten either.”
“That’s misinformation,” you dismiss. “No one gets bitten to turn. Anyone who has been bitten by a vampire and survived merely experiences more drastic symptoms of rabies then dies. They are bats after all.”
Judging by the constantly confused expression on his face, you deduce he has not discovered he can turn into a bat yet. You hold off on that nugget of information for now, returning to your explanation, “Vampires are the result of humans making deals with some sort of demon. While possessions are common, demons do not want your body. They are always after your soul. Whatever remains is the demonic shift from humanity to deviance. You may still have your body, but your connection to the supernatural is your only thread to the living.”
Chris nods, sitting up in his seat. You regret to find that it doesn’t make you want to straddle him any less than before.
“I can understand that, I just don’t know what that has to do with me. I swear I had no reason to summon anyone from any realm or world or wherever the fuck these things come from.” His voice wavers with sincerity, eyes distressed with confusion. He takes a second to breathe in deeply, trying to ground himself, only to clench his jaw, never exhaling. “I just want my life back,” he mutters.
Me too , you think as you gnaw on your bottom lip.
While your mother discouraged you from being yourself, and so-called friends betrayed you, there was a life back between the Mountains of Cleo that was waiting for you to reach your full potential. Working alongside the greatest witches of the century, charting stars and researching the full scope of potential power within the moon, you were on track to finally securing a position within the Arcane Court , and earning the respect of your family for once.
You wish to return to that moment before everything had shattered around you. Work was stolen, lies were told and reputations were ruined. You never thought you'd be forced to defend yourself against people you loved, people you considered your found family. However, you did expect your biological family to believe the worst about you.
Looking back at Chris, you notice he seems lost in his own thoughts too, gazing at the polished hardwood floors aimlessly. His explanation seems genuine and you really do believe him. He seemed to have the world at his fingertips, on the cusp of achieving all his dreams, before his life ended.
He suddenly meets your gaze. The angle of his head blends his brown eye into the darkness, the silver one gleaming brightly in contrast. You know you should be scared, and you try to find a reason to feel that way, looking for even the faintest hint of danger. Instead, honesty greets you. If you hadn’t known he was a vampire, you would have assumed he was human from that look alone.
“I want to help you figure out what happened,” you announce.
Chris blinks at you. “What?”
“Vampires are made by demons,” you repeat. “If you are a vampire, then you were made. And if you didn’t bind yourself into a contract, someone else must have done so on your behalf. You could be in danger, could even be hexed. I want to help you find out what’s going on.”
His throat bobs, brows knit and he licks his lips before asking, “Why would you help me again?”
“I’m curious,” you shrug. And when his stare does not waver, you add, “And this is the longest I have spoken to someone other than a bird in the last ten years, so I might as well make the most of it before sundown.”
At that, Chris smiles. You notice he has a way of making it look so easy, that gentle, boyish smile. It’s full of intrigue and amusement and even admiration as his mismatched eyes twinkle with delicate notions of mischief.
“I’m going to look into making another salve for some of your scars,”you say, standing from your seat. “The crows will be back with your clothes soon. You can go up to the bathroom and shower in the meantime, if you’d like I mean.”
Chris stands with you, glancing at the stairs. “Thanks,” he murmurs as if he doesn’t trust his voice.
You ignore the heavy emotion laced in his tone, to save him the embarrassment, and continue, “It’s the third door on the right. The house will lead you.”
As if on cue, you hear the soft echo of shutting doors and the whispering squeak of a single door opening.
Chris’s ears twitch at the sound. He swallows thickly and gives you another nod of gratitude before heading up the stairs. You watch his back flex as he rolls his shoulders back. Now that you are going to help him, you really need to stop practically panting after him. The last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable in a tiny house he can’t leave for the next twelve hours.
Letting out a heavy breath, you make your way to the kitchen and wave all your relevant books on burns, salves and blood-beings towards you. But the distant spray of the shower rattles your focus, plaguing you with images of his naked body caught between water and steam. Shaking your head, you force him out of your thoughts.
You have work to do– a purpose to finally follow. And you won’t be deterred.
Despite the brightness of your flowy white dress, which cinches at your waist and beautifully accentuates your curves, your little cottage is a sanctuary of moody shades and warm textures. Chris surveys the polished dark wood floors, adorned with a large, red rug that captivates his attention, on his way towards the stairs. A piece of onyx fur casually drapes over the exotic rug, adding an extra layer of softness beneath his cold feet. Leafy green plants cascade from the ceiling and trail their long vines over the edges of the shelves. They bring a subtle sense of life to the space, even in such dim lighting. The deep violet walls bring out the vivid colours of the flowers—magenta, indigo, and plum. He assumes, based on your determined personality, that each bundle of petals serves some sort of purpose. Between flickering candles, well-worn books, and vials of mysterious substances, you've crafted a harmonious blend of oak table sets and plush, comfortable seating, creating an inviting atmosphere that feels entirely your own– warm and beautiful.
As Chris enters your bathroom, he finds that it is no different. Only, instead of a cosy ambiance of lived-in comfort, you’ve created a refreshing forest oasis. Dark green tiles line the walls, casting the room in deep, earthy hues. The floor is a mosaic of midnight green and jade patterns that seem to shift with the light, an intricate dance of natural tones underfoot. From above, more plants with long, draping vines hang over the obsidian sink, suspended in delicate macrame nets that sway gently with each movement in the room. Chris’s throat dries at the swan faucet poised elegantly above the sink, its neck curved in a graceful arc. In the corner, the shower nestles like a hidden grotto, glossy tiles and rainfall shower head turning it into a misty forest retreat, with aged brass fixtures catching the light. And finally, his gaze drifts to the grand, black bear claw tub—a magnificent centrepiece that seems plucked from a woodland dream.
He swallows thickly, inhaling the subtle scents of eucalyptus and lavender. Upon his exhale, the shower head turns on. He peers around the bathroom again, wondering if the house is watching him. When only the steady spray of the shower echoes against the dimly candlelit walls, Chris rolls his shoulders back and takes a step further into the room.
The door clicks shut on its own.
Chris shakes off his uneasiness and drops the blanket from his waist. He’s not sure why, but his hands shake as he steps under the shower. A part of him hopes to feel stark cold, just as the ocean was a couple of hours ago. But the water is…water– Chris cannot feel much of a temperature, even with litres of human blood spreading through his body. Still, the strong pressure beating down his head, shoulders and back ease the tension in his once wounded muscles.
Suddenly, the water stings with the faintest hint of coolness. It gets colder and colder, nearly replicating the frostiness of the morning sea, before Chris realises that the house is adjusting the temperature for him.
“This is good,” he mutters, tipping his head back.
The house slightly warms the water, silently asking if he’s sure.
“I like it cold,” Chris reassures. A ghost of a smile hovers over his full lips. He wonders if you put the house up to this or if it is simply trying to make him feel welcome. Either way, he’s grateful for the consideration.
Consideration . Chris ponders over the word, mulling over every syllable, every decision you’ve made while he was unconscious. You’re a witch with angelic intentions, that much seems to be clear. But he still cannot help wondering what it was that made you consider saving him? He’s just a stranger, afterall. No, he’s a demon . And yet, you brought him into your home, created salves and offered him jars of blood.
Why do you have stores of human blood, anyway? Is it part of your practice as a blood-witch? Do you conjure spells that include elements of blood? Or do you merely harvest litres of it like a collector of sorts?
Questions lap round and round his mind as he reaches for your honey-infused shampoo. It smells faintly of your wild, flowery scent. Chris cannot help his smirk at subtle notions of rainfall and sage amidst that lavender. With a playful smile and inquisitive, bold eyes, you are the epitome of life and purity– and you smell like it too.
He leans into the faint scent as he lathers his seasalt drenched hair with the silky, sweet soap. After rinsing the suds out, he grabs the matching conditioner and finds it is heavily imprinted with your scent. Perhaps you use it more often, or in larger quantities than the shampoo, but Chris is not all that curious why. He continues to lean into it, moaning softly as he combs it through his slightly curled strands.
You’re incredibly enchanting, and Chris wonders if you’re aware of that. From the sway of your hips to the glint of intrigue in your alluring gaze, you are a vision of beauty. You radiate confidence, even when you’re perplexed and unsure. You stand in your own light, take control of a room and demand answers. Had Chris met you in college, between frat parties or music classes, he is certain he would have pursued you. Bossy, bratty, brazen, you command attention within a few words and a firm tone. And when he tested your limits, correcting your ordering tone with him in the living room, and you yielded to his tug of power, he swears his cock twitched.
Maybe eight years of solitude has made him desperate, or the near-death experience has renewed his connection to the living, but Chris cannot deny that he wants you. He scrubs his body now and imagines your hands over his chest, along the width of his shoulders and trailing down his arms. He imagines your face inches from his and your warm breath fanning over his lips. He imagines your naked body, smirking when he recalls the way your gaze lingered over his in the kitchen.
Do you like him too? Is that the real reason why you’re helping him?
A series of gentle taps rap at the door.
Chris snaps his attention to the black wood. He focuses his enhanced hearing, hoping to pick up your heartbeat in the hall. Instead, a pair of rapid pumps and fluttering wings greet him. He assumes it’s the crows with his clothes and quickly rinses away the soap.
The water shuts off as he steps back out into the bathroom. A soft, grey towel hovers in front of him.
Chris smiles at the ceiling. “Thanks,” he says, accepting the towel and wrapping it around his waist. As he makes his way to the door, another smaller towel gently lands on his head. Chris chuckles and ruffles the soft cotton through his clean hair.
The door opens for him as he approaches it.
I can get used to this .
His clothes lay in a pile on the floor, wet and littered with sand. Looking up at the house, Chris asks, “Um, can you do me a quick favour?”
The candles momentarily shine brighter in reply.
Chris bites his lip. He glances back at the shower, realising that the house has already done so much for him. He might be pushing his luck with another request. But then the lights shine again, as if reassuring him that it’s okay to ask for more.
Throat bobbing, Chris asks, “Could you help me clean my clothes?”
A wicker basket emerges from a door down the hall. It hops over to Chris from side to side, in a manner he can only describe as gleeful. Once in front of him, it shakes as though it is asking him to drop his clothes into the hamper. Chris tentatively bends down and tosses the sandy clothes in. The basket returns to its spot, disappearing behind its door, cheerful and almost giddy.
Chris smiles to himself. The house must have your personality, or perhaps just aspects of it– playful, helpful, thoughtful. You bleed into every crevice of the warm cottage and Chris, for the first time since turning, is delighted.
A quiet chirp from the crows pulls his attention back to them. They caw a couple more times before flying over to the edge of the stairs.
Chris wonders if they are asking him to follow them, looking between them and the cold bathroom behind him.
They caw again, hopping in place.
He glances down at his towel and raises a brow. “I’m not really–” he starts, only for the crows to cut him off.
One of them, Poe perhaps, lets out a long, almost exasperated squawk that leaves no room for refusal.
With a roll of his eyes, Chris follows after the birds. “Alright, alright,” he sighs. “Stop nagging me.”
The crows fly down the stairs and into the kitchen. Chris takes his time, following the scent of wild lavender and sage. He barely makes it to the archway when he sees your dress flowing around you with every step around the kitchen.
You’ve pulled your hair up, neck on full display. Moving around the dark kitchen, you trade your attention between a hovering book and your breakfast on the stove, all while sneaking sips from your steaming cup of tea. Chris detects notes of chai, cinnamon and anise stars amongst hearty eggs, and fresh tomatoes and chives.
It takes you a minute, but you soon notice his tall figure entering the small space. Your eyes don’t remain on his for too long before trailing down his chest and lingering around his waist. He’s starting to realise that you seem to have a habit of that and it doesn’t bother him at all. If anything, he finds himself puffing out his chest and tightening the tension around his stomach under your watchful gaze.
“They haven’t returned with your clothes?”
Fuck, that voice– light, airy and sweet. Chris averts his gaze and bites on the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan.
Clearing his throat, he replies,“No, they did. They’re just dirty. The house is cleaning them for me.”
You flash him a knowing smile and Chris swears his breath would hitch if he would breathe. “Yeah, it likes feeling useful,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your tea. You then nod at one of the indigo stools before your gleaming marble-topped island in the centre of the kitchen.
Chris takes a seat, ensuring his towel stays put as he adjusts it around his spreading legs. As you turn back to your black iron stove, Chris takes a moment to really take in the kitchen.
With deep crimson walls that cradle the space in a comforting embrace, the space excludes warmth. The soft candlelights that hover above cast playful shadows on the deep charcoal countertops, almost mirroring the crackle and pop of the hearth in the living room. Hanging between the candles are clusters of copper pots and pans, adding notions of rustic charm. Chris then realises that this might be the first room in the cottage without plants dangling from the ceiling or over surfaces. Instead, the shelves are lined with jars of spices and herbs and… body parts. He catches pickled eyeballs, dusty toes, fingers–some with matted fur–, and about three cases of teeth.
“They were donated,” you clarify.
Chris blinks his attention back to you, finding a guilty smile playing on your lips.
“Well,” you start again, “ Most of it was donated.”
He teasingly raises his brows at you, suppressing his own smile. “I suppose that makes it okay then,” he jokes, subtly testing your boundaries again.
There is a flicker of surprised intrigue in your gaze. “It seemed okay when it was saving your life,” you shoot back with the same level of teasing wit.
Chris cannot help the excitement in his chest. Do you know how exhilarating you are? Is that why you keep staring at him with those enchantingly mischievous eyes?
He bites his lip, conceding to your wit. “Learn anything new,” he asks, nodding to the levitating book.
You plate your breakfast with a sigh. The stove shuts off on its own as you round the island and take a seat next to him. Chris stiffen, adjusting his towel around his crotch. The once floating book rests on the countertop between the both of you.
“See for yourself,” you reply before eating.
Chris notes the title: Origins of Vampires, Bloodsuckers, and Incubi , then scans the first few paragraphs. Besides accounts for the first sighting of vampires and the fact that they are apparently extremely lustful beings, it does not inform Chris of anything he does not already know from you. A deal needs to be made with the devil, his soul must have had to be traded as payment, and his body begins to reject all things human.
Furrowing his brows and sucking in his cheeks with a little hiss, Chris shifts forward in his seat to get a better look at the book. There is an extremely long passage about consistent erections, and the next page is filled with a list of the best hideouts to escape the sun during the day. Chris is more concerned with the inconsistency of the author than the fact that he has yet to get an erection since he turned years ago.
“Nothing new,” you finally reply after a few bites of your food. “Nothing useful either.”
“May I?” Chris asks, reaching for the edge of the page.
He flips the page when you nod. The list of hideouts takes up the next three pages and Chris resists the urge to roll his eyes. Information about vampiric cycles, peak slumber and feasting times, and tips on how to hunt fill the remaining pages on vampires before moving onto bloodsuckers and incubi. Again, the information is not anything Chris is not already aware of from the sheer experience of being undead for nearly a decade. He knows that around noon, his body tends to shut down and he seeks the darkest, coldest part of the basement to lay still and close his eyes. He’s not exactly asleep but he’s also not exactly awake either. The stuff about peak feasting times does not really apply to him. Just like when he was human, Chris is always hungry and ready to consume something.
With a heavy sigh, he shuts the book. “That was a waste of time,” he mumbles as you finish your breakfast.
You wave your empty plate and cup off to the sink, then shrug at him. “Well, we now know this book is useless,” you say, voice light with hope. “We can cross it off our list.”
Chris raises a brow. “How many more books are on this list of yours?”
Your gaze is shifty and Chris starts to get nervous. He murmurs your name carefully, merely trying to get you to be honest, but then he notices the way you tremble at the sound of his low, deep voice. He can’t help the smirk tugging on his lips.
“Cold?” he teases before he can stop himself.
Your eyes meet his with careful conviction. You lick your lips, as if debating how sharp your response should be. Attention flitting down to his chest momentarily, you finally reply, “Not at all.”
With that, you wave off the useless book and summon two more. One is for salves and creams, the other is an encyclopaedia of vampiric traits and rituals. It sounds just as useless as the last one but if it’s on your list, Chris is willing to indulge.
“You can get started on this,” you push the encyclopaedia towards him, “while I look into treating those scars.”
“I don’t mind the scars,” he shrugs. “They kinda make me feel human.”
When you meet his eyes this time, your gaze is not filled with caution or calculated intrigue, instead they round with empathy. The sincere reaction triggers another pressing question Chris cannot seem to shake.
“Why are you here?”
Your face folds in confusion. “What?”
“You’re here on this haunted island all alone. Why? Don’t you have a coven or something?”
You pause for longer than usual and Chris worries if he used the wrong term, or perhaps merely asked a more personal question than you’re willing to answer.
But then you clear your throat and adjust your posture in your seat. Staring down at the counter, you let out a heavy sigh and say, “I did and now I don’t.” Again, you take a beat lick your lips. “I wasn’t wanted there, so I needed to go.”
Chris scoffs. He doesn’t register the bluntness of his gestures until you glare at him.
“Have something to add?” you question, that usually sweet voice of yours now sharpened.
It really shouldn’t but the sharpness makes his body buzz with excitement. Chris is fascinated by your darker edges. They contrast so beautifully against your usual lightness, enchanting him with supple seduction.
“I think that’s bullshit,” he replies.
“I think the fact that you just so happened to lose track of time is bullshit,” you remark. “But I have the common courtesy to keep my rude opinions to myself.”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Chris can’t help but tease. “But I was referring to the fact that you would ever be unwanted. If you weren’t such a little…” Chris trails off just to watch your nostrils flare and smirks, “ witch , you would have known that.”
A flicker of regret flashes in your gaze, but it doesn’t take long to harden again with a clench of your jaw.
“Maybe you should’ve added that sooner.”
“Maybe you should’ve given me the chance to.”
“How is any of this my fault?” you ask, voice still irritated but a chuckle manages to slip past your sweet lips.
Chris smiles at the girly sound, suddenly feeling… warm?
“I never said it was,” he answers. He keeps his voice tempered and gentle, watching as you bite your lip again.
There is a shift in the air. Chris catches the sudden thickness of your scent, the newfound depth it carries and you shift in your seat again. Furrowing his brows, he leans forward to hold your gaze and asks, “You okay?”
You nod, yet shoot up from your seat. You push that book towards him again and point to the living room. “The house made you a little nook by the fire. Try reading as much as you can. The sooner we find out about you, the sooner you can return home.” Your voice sounds as sweet as it normally does, but carries a certain weight to it. Chris has trouble placing it as you continue, “If you get thirsty or need anything else, just ask the house. It’s happiest when it can provide.”
Inhaling sharply, Chris collects the book and stands. He holds his towel in place with his other hand, the same way he did with the blanket not too long ago, and starts to make his way to the living room. When he gets to the archway, he pauses to glance over his shoulder.
You’re still watching him, captivated by the broadness of his back.
“I think the house takes after you,” he says, turning to face you. “You seem content providing as well. So, I really can’t imagine anyone not wanting you around.”
You shift your weight and clench your jaw. With a thick swallow, you shake your head. “You don’t know me,” you mutter, face contorting with shame.
“And you don’t know me,” he shrugs. “But here we are, a vampire and a blood-witch. Is that a common pair amongst the supernatural?”
You shake your head.
Chris smiles. “And yet you saved me. And you continue to help me. And I might not know you the way the house or crows do,” he chuckles, watching a smile play on your lips, “but I know that I can comfortably go into the next room and not have to worry about you suddenly opening the window and burning me alive. And I think that’s a good sign when you’re getting to know someone, yeah?”
With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. Chris does his best to ignore the way they press together and jut out. “Your bar is way too low for strangers, Christopher.”
He tongues his cheek. “ Chris ,” he corrects.
A mischievous smile spreads across your soft features and Chris wonders if he may have given you some ammunition to tease him later.
“Happy reading, Chris ,” you say.
The way you emphasise his name almost makes him shiver.
“Happy conjuring, little witch.”
A renewed sense of pride blooms in his still chest at the way you shyly avert your gaze upon hearing your new nickname. Chris thinks it has a nice ring to it, and you look absolutely adorable when you’re flustered. He allows himself one last once over of your curves, then pulls himself towards the living room.
True to your words, the house has provided a long, wide chaise of midnight blue velvet. It sits before the fireplace with a soft amber blanket draped over the back. Chris settles into the plush cushions, sinking into comfort and props his feet up. He throws the blanket over his waist to replace his towel and asks the house to dim the fire.
Flipping open the book, Chris starts to learn more about himself, pushing every tempting thought of you out of his mind.
Two weeks go by in a blur and you find that you are no less infatuated by Chris than when you first met him.
He has such an easy way about him, smiling effortlessly. His eyes are still mismatched as if the sun had burned the vampiric silver of his left iris into his retina. No amount of blood has reversed the damage. However, you don’t mind. In fact, you find yourself feeling relieved when his eyes remain the same pair of brown and grey every time he takes a sip of animal blood. You like the twinkle of mischief that seems to glow so brightly amongst the two colours. Its allure is deliciously dangerous with promises of subtle destruction. You especially enjoy how they squint when he laughs or smiles with his white teeth, still gleaming with joy and lightness.
You’ve gotten used to his presence, and you think that maybe he has gotten used to yours too. Just two nights ago, he finally told you why he was out so late the night you met. You instantly empathised with him, knowing all too well how powerful the yearning for connection can be. It’s the reason you promised to help again, desperate for a semblance of real, tangible interactions too.
“And your parents?” you asked, after he told you all about how he hides out in his friends’ basements. “Do they know?”
His jaw set. “They think I died,” he sighs. “Well, they think I’m missing, but it’s been eight years and they bought a headstone so…”
Regret tightened in your chest. “I’m so–”
“My little brother took my old room,” he continued, cutting you off . “I snuck in one night, just to… see, I guess? He still has some of my stuff there, all dusty and untouched. He’s so big now, almost as tall as me,” he chuckled, a small smile settling on his lips. “He plays baseball though. I don’t think I’ve seen any of them go near a swimming pool in years. ”
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You wanted to just swallow your previous words, the regret of mentioning his parents wrapping tighter around your heart.
“My mum saw me once,” he said, finally meeting your gaze. A muted sadness greets you, but his little smile remains on those pink-stained lips. “She was bringing groceries in one night and caught me staring behind some tree. She dropped the bag and called out to my dad. I ran before either of them could see me again,” he paused to swallow.“ I still can’t get the sound of her sobs out of my head.”
You blink the memory away, pulling your dusky plum coloured comforter up to your chin. A part of you wishes you had asked him why he never went back to his parents or let them believe he’d gone missing. Clearly, the thought of them moving on without him still weighs heavy on his heart. But you couldn’t find your word at the time, blinking back tears as he hung his head and spoke so quietly. Besides, you are sure, based on his caring, selfless personality, he likely thought he was doing them a favour by shielding them from his new reality. He was practically brimming with self hatred when you met.
And you realised, in that vulnerable moment, it was never about feeling the sun or the cold or even the sensation of swimming again. It has always been about being human . Chris craves his humanity more than he values his life. You both know that he was well aware of when the sun would rise, that he fought through his inherent fear of it for the chance to feel near-human again. He even keeps his remaining sun-scars and winks his mismatched eyes because they are consequences of feeling that pain. And as you read more and more about vampires together, the hindrance of potentially accessing his full abilities does not surprise you. To his core, Chris is human, so he is constantly rejecting his vampiric turn.
That realisation shifted your focus last night. You moved from books about vampires to those about demons. Flipping through pages and pages of information, you found multiple passages about soul-trading. You discovered that some demons demand pure souls in addition to the ones they have already swindled from their summors. This detail, likely lost in the fine-print of most deals, implements a vampiric gene into the summors’ genetics. The variant remains dormant, passing through the bloodline until it finally finds a pure soul to claim.
Chris still can’t believe that one of his ancestors would stoop so low, but you find that reaction in itself is just another testament of his purity.
Smiling to yourself at the thought of him, you stare at your star-speckled ceiling. You enchanted it to reflect the night sky on your first night at Crow’s Nest . Actually, you had enchanted the ceiling of the living room, having slept down there until you were able to slowly build your little cottage and refine your new sanctuary. You were terrified of being found and snatched back for sentencing by the Arcane Court. You’re well aware that blood-witches don’t simply break blood bonds and live to tell the tale. You remember using whatever magic you had at the time to unshackle yourself from the bounds of your coven, hop on your broom with your life magically crammed into a knapsack, and escape into the same dark night.
And as you lie here now, sinking into your silky sheets, you find that staring at a shimmering night sky can still ease your nerves all the same. You try to identify constellations and search for the moon between the clouds. You curse under your breath when you finally catch a glimpse of its glow– waxing gibbous .
Tomorrow is the full moon.
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to get lost in the stars again, but it’s no use. All you can think about is that damned elixir.
“I found something,” you muttered to Chris.
He laid in his little nook by the dimmed fire, one hand clutching a book and the other folded behind his head. Peering over at you, a little smirk tugs on his lips. “A new blood recipe?” he asked, knowing you have been testing out some new blends of spices in his blood.
You shake your head and reply, “A solution . ”
You feel your skin grow hot from the memory of having to explain to him what this solution entails.
At its core, it is simply a recipe for vampiric vitality. And after hearing about his parents and how they have tried to move on from losing him, how he had tried to move on, you remember feeling hopeful. Maybe this could be the key to reclaim his life, to possibly see them again without shame.
However, the summary still gives you pause. It reads:
“The Elixir of the Damned is a rare, potent potion crafted to primarily shield vampires, and other sun-sensitive creatures, from the deadly effects of daylight. By harnessing the mystical properties of a blood-witch's full-moon blood, the elixir enables these creatures to walk under the sun without harm, preserving their strength and powers. Beyond sunlight protection, the elixir grants a surge of energy, reduces the need for frequent feeding, shortens sleep cycles, and reverses their natural nocturnal schedule.
The thick, midnight violet elixir is a luminescent liquid concoction of moonlight essence, ground sage, sunroot and the dust of two diamonds: obsidian and sunstone. The mixture must be thoroughly stirred and refrigerated for a minimum of twelve hours before use. Upon a full-moon, the elixir must be mixed with the menstrual blood of a blood-witch and consumed immediately. For best results, pour and harvest the menstrual blood directly from the source.”
You have the stupid thing memorised, having read it countless times, before finally telling Chris. Though he can’t breathe, you’re certain his breath hitched at the explanation. You remember parting your lips to further explain when he suddenly agreed.
“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” he argued. “I’m willing to keep it strictly professional if you are.”
You swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah,” you found yourself replying. “I can do the same.”
And yet you lay here, naked and squirming at the thought of his mouth between your legs because he insisted, and you quote, “If we’re gonna do it, we might as well do it right.”
Do me right , you wanted to reply. Just bend me over the couch and do me right now .
Instead, you continuously agree and nod and pretend that your arousal isn’t sticking between your thighs as your clit throbs for attention.
You cup your crotch now, unable to take it anymore. He’s fucking hot– so fucking hot . You have been trying not to stare but he wears these tight tank tops that showcase his muscular arms all the fucking time. You mentally curse his stupid friends for sending such revealing clothes through the crows. He sent them a letter with Poe a day after you agreed to help them and you wonder if he specifically requested these pieces or if this is his usual style.
Either way, you cannot stop staring. Every ridge and crevices of his buff chest and toned stomach is outlined, completely captivating your attention. You are constantly trying to maintain eye contact, but even that feels too much sometimes. He is always teasing and joking with you, gazing at you with such consuming warmth, you cannot help but feel hot .
A little gasp escapes you as you spread your legs and drench your fingers with your arousal. Sticky, wet, you need him. Maybe it’s been too long without a good fuck, or you are simply obsessed, but it really doesn’t matter. You need a release right now or you might not make it through the night.
You start slow, rubbing circles over your needy clit. It doesn’t take long for you to overheat, however. So you pause your movements to shove your blanket off. Now fully naked and exposed to your cold room, you return your hand between your legs.
A wet squelching sounds as you rub and rub your fingers round and round. You test out rhythms, squirming under your desperate touch–slow–fast–slow–fast, and bite back a whimper.
What would Chris do, you cannot help wondering.
Administering featherlight touches, you know he’d play with you to start. He’d keep his pressure light and quick, wanting to watch you chase after his hand after every fleeting touch. Then, you push down harshly on your clit and bite into your lip harder to hold back a moan. You just know he’d be rough too, forcefully pressing down until he hears you whine his name.
“Chris,” you let yourself whisper. “Right there, baby.”
A quiet moan slips out with your words and you’re not completely mad about it. It was silent enough and you’re certain he’s too busy sipping on the warmed seven herb spiced blood you left out for him to pay much attention to you right now.
As much as you enjoy imagining him playing with you, you cannot stand the anticipation anymore. Your needy hole clenches repeatedly, aching to be filled. You shakily gasp and decide to fully give into your desire. Grabbing your wand, you place the handle against your clit and will it to vibrate. You use your other hand to finger yourself, shoving three ambitious digits in.
“ Oh!”
You bite your lip, panic sprouting in your chest at the sudden spike in volume. Glancing at the door, you’re relieved to find it still shut. You lay back against your pillow and pick up your pace. He’d be unforgiving. He’d be rough and reckless.
Your body trembles at the thought.
“Chris,” you whisper into the room. “Please don’t stop fucking me like that.”
Eyes fluttering shut, you imagine him leering over you, smirking and groaning. You imagine his strong frame ramming into you, his relentless grip keeping you in place. Would he want you to hold his gaze? Or would he bury his face in the crook of your neck to kiss and nibble on?
The pleasure only increases. You tense up. The vibrations rumbling from the hilt of your mahogany wand intensifies. Your fingers eagerly move in and out, tight walls closing in on them.
“ You’re gonna make me cum,” you mutter, breathless and whiny.
Cum for me , baby , a whisper of a voice orders. Be a good little witch and cum all over my fingers .
The sound is so deep and husky, but also murmurous and hazy. If you had time to focus on it, you wouldn’t have automatically assumed it was internal and perhaps investigated. But the constant pleasure is all too consuming. Working you closer and closer to your release, you cannot register the source of any sound besides that of your fast fingers and vibrating wand.
That pretty pussy looks so delicious .
Your orgasm catches you off guard, suddenly rippling through you. You squeal lifting your head from your pillow to almost hunch inwards and cum.
“Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris,” you whisper between whimpers and you rapidly draw every last surge of arousal out. “Oh my god ,” you heave, tossing your wand aside. The stimulation is nearly agonising when paired with your still moving fingers.
After a few more thrusts, you lay back into your bed, heaving. Your hand slides out and up towards your clit. A single brush of contact makes your body tremble. You retract your hand all together, swallowing a moan. Your legs come together, eyes droop from exhaustion and fatigue.
You have no idea how you’re going to remain “professional” tomorrow. The sheer thought of him down there coaxed one of your most powerful orgasms. How will you be able to keep your moans at bay, or your body from rolling into his mouth?
Click.
You snap your attention to your door. It’s shut. Holding your breath, you try to listen for footsteps. When that proves useless, you squint at the gap between the door and floor for movements of shadow. Still, silent, the hallway is empty.
With a shake of your head, you rest back into your pillow and wave yourself clean. You then tug your comforter back over your spent body and shut your eyes. You just need to get through tomorrow. Once the elixir and ritual is complete, he can return home and you won’t have to see him until your next cycle.
Chris stands in your room, arms crossed over his chest. It looks warmer under candlelights than it did last night beneath glimmering stars. Unlike the darkness of the bathroom, or warmth of the living room and kitchen, your room is a collection of cool tones, invoking quiet serenity. The walls are a hazy blue, trimmed with crown moulding around the baseboards and ceiling. One wall of the room is lined with shelves upon shelves of books, plants and a plethora of magical objects, like stones, crystal balls, and the occasional skull. A chestnut vanity, large wardrobe and oval mirror sit on his left side by an open window. Sheer violet curtains dance with the gentle wind.
Underfoot, a thick, handknitted rug of pewter, amethyst and onyx yarn stretches over polished, dark walnut floors. Chris curls his toes into it, attempting to ground himself, as his eyes follow you towards your four-poster bed. It must be a queen– rather fitting for you– since it takes up a substantial amount of space in the centre of the room. The gauzy mauve curtains surrounding your bed part as you approach it. Your matching greyish-plum comforter pulls back, as if welcoming you to silky starlight silver sheets. You wave it back into place then turn to him.
“It’s almost time,” you say.
The slight tremor in your voice draws Chris back to the events he witnessed last night. You keep talking now, gesturing to your bed with one hand, while clutching onto the small vial of a deep, inky violet elixir in the other. He sees your pretty mouth moving, but does not register your words. All he hears are your delicate, fragile moans.
Chris didn’t mean to linger or leer last night. He doesn’t usually go to the second floor when you go to bed, not wanting to disturb you. But he had just come back from collecting some ingredients for the elixir around the island, heard you calling his name and got curious. Once he realised what you were doing, he just couldn’t tear himself away. He remembers the way you squirmed and begged. He remembers the way you worked your fingers in and out of your perfect, needy pussy. He remembers how you held your wand, the one laying on your nightstand right now, and wonders how often you use it for that purpose. How often do you use it thinking about him ?
“Did you hear me?” you ask.
Chris’s eyes widen. “What?”
You tilt your head and give him a serious look. “Chris, do you still want to do this?”
“Of course.”
“Listen, if you’re having second thoug–”
Chris quickly cuts you off with an urgent shake of his head. “No, no, I want this,” he quickly reassures. The eagerness of his statement dawns on him the moment the words leave his lips. Chris immediately tries to save himself from further embarrassment, adding, “I want to feel normal again.”
You nod, inhaling deeply.
Chris’s attention flickers down to your full chest, watching it rise under your silky black robe then fall as you exhale. He meant to meet your gaze again, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking in your frame. From the curves of your waist to the roundness of your stomach and thickness of your thighs, you are a vision of temptation.
Your fingers trace the ribbon of your robe, drawing his focus back to your face. You bite on your lips, nervous eyes peering at him cautiously.
“Are you okay with this?” Chris asks. “It’s never too late to change your mind.”
You swallow thickly. “I want you to feel normal too,” you replied, lips slighting relaxing into a soft smile. “It’s not about changing my mind. I just…” you trail off with a sigh.
Chris remains silent, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.
Rolling your shoulders back, you hold his gaze and confess,“I just haven’t been naked in front of someone else in a really long time.”
One of the things Chris has come to find so admirable about you is how unapologetically honest you are about yourself. You do not mince words or circle difficult topics. You stand your ground and say what you mean, uttering every syllable like you are reciting a declaration of love, sincere and unwavering. He catches the way you fist your hands to keep them from trembling and he finds that defiance all the more endearing.
He tries to bite back a smile at how strong and cute you’re being. Fuck, he’s wholeheartly ready to devour you and show you just how wonderful you are.
Without another word, he tugs the hem of his shirt up and over his head. He can’t help smirking when you gasp at his bare chest. He’s caught you staring enough time to know you like what you see. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulls them down with his briefs and steps out of them, fully naked in front of you.
“Now, you’re not alone,” he smiles.
Eyes widen, mouth slightly agape, you slowly drag your gaze down his frame. You shift your weight and he catches the way your legs press tightly together. The image of them spread and glistening with your arousal flashes between blinks.
You take another deep breath then untie the knot of your robe. The delicate silk slips off your shoulders, revealing the epitome of supple seduction and plump perfection.
Chris, already salivating, swallows. Your gaze trails back down to his crotch and he’s certain you are seeing exactly how he truly feels. His cock hardened last night the moment he saw you all needy and whiny. He tried to jerk himself off, hoping to soften again but failed– even after cumming three times.
“Does it bother you?” He gently asks, not moving to hide his erection yet.
You shake your head.
“I can put something back on if it does,” he tries again, wanting to be sure you know he is not ashamed of his desire. You’re incredibly hot and you must know it too with the way you constantly tease him with low-cut, form-fitting dresses. It’s partially why he asked Jisung to send him tank-tops and sweatpants when crafting a letter for Poe to send.
“It’s fine, Chris,” you whisper.
His jaw clenches at the memory of your whiny voice saying his name.
A little smile plays on your lips as you toss him half a shrug and add, “It was bound to happen at some point tonight. Might as well get over the awkwardness now.”
Chris glares, but the smirk on his face does not hint towards conviction. “Oh, yeah? Get this kinda reaction often, little witch?”
You bite your lip then teasingly quirk a brow. “Why,” you shoot back. “Jealous?”
He tongues his cheek. “I just wanna know how many members are part of your little fan club.”
You turn towards the bed, displaying your round rear, and reply, “There’s room for one more.”
Chirs suppresses a groan. He tightens his jaw and follows after you. As you lie back into your propped, plush pillows, Chris meets your eyes. All notions of uncertainty have been replaced by carefree mischief. He sits on his knees in front of your legs and offers a small smile.
“I already recited the spell,” you say, holding out the vial. “All you have to do now is pour it over me and… harvest the blood.”
Chris takes the tiny glass bottle, nodding. “If you ever need me to stop–” he starts, only for you to cut him off with the spread of your legs.
A richer, more musky aroma of your usual rainwater, sage and wild lavender scent instantly overwhelms his senses. Laced with your menstrual blood, it evokes the earthiness of damp soil and the sweetness of blooming flowers.
His jaw goes slack, eyes darkening. He can feel his fangs poke out and involuntarily takes a long, slow breath. His lungs do not work, heart still and cold, but he swears he feels them filling from the sheer smell of you.
Your soft voice cuts through his primal desires, as you whisper,“I trust you.”
With that, Chris uncorks the vial. His free hand settles on your thigh. He smiles to himself at the softness, having only imagined the feeling of it for the last two weeks. He knew you’d feel so delicate, rubbing his hand up and down your warm skin.
He looks back at you and meets your confident gaze with a little nod, confirming that he’s ready too. Then, he brings the tiny glass bottle to your blood-glistening lips and pours the elixir. It looks a lot like violet-coloured lube and feels that way too as he uses his thumb to rub it around your pussy.
Your hips stiffen, core clenches at the sudden sensation and Chris darts his attention up to your face again, concerned. However, tentative notions of pleasure greet him. Your brows furrows, and eyes flicker with shy delight. You bite your lip, and that’s when Chris catches the rapid pounding of your heart.
As he continues to rub the elixir over your clit then drag it down to circle your needy hole, Chris wonders if this is what you imagined him doing to you last night.
“I think it’s good now,” you say, voice wavering. “We don’t have all night, you know?”
Chris smirks at your little joke. You have a tendency to be rather bossy and he’s been trying to subtly reign in your sassiness with challenging looks and sharper words every now and again. But then you go and test his patience with shit like this– speaking to him like he works for you. It excites and enrages him all at once.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be taking that tone with me, little witch,” he warns, applying pressure with his thumb against your clit.
Your breath hitches before you clamp a hand to your mouth.
Chris stifles his laughter. You’re a good girl down to your core. You just need the right person to remind you of that sometimes.
Now that you are behaving, Chris lowers himself towards your delicious pussy. You smell divine, leaking of blood and drenched in the glow of the elixir. He cannot hold back any longer upon another strong whiff. Tongue flat, he drags it between your lips with a deep, full-chested groan. He repeats the slow action again and again, lowering himself further against the bed until he’s lying down on his stomach.
He pulls back to loop his arms under your thighs. Pulling the top part of your pussy up, he dives back in. You taste like the ocean breeze on a sweltering summer day, purely refreshing. His tongue circles around your lips and clit, gathering all the leaked blood, which adds a metalicy sweetness to your arousal. A part of him wishes he was able to taste you without the juicy influence of the elixir, wondering how the flavour of your blood would change.
Chris tongues the entrance of your hole, hoping to ease you into the–what did you call it?– harvest?
However, upon the first real sip of your menstrual blood, something profoundly primal snaps in the depths of his chest. Unbound by his inhibitions, he growls against your core and shoves his long, wet tongue deep into you.
A tiny whimper cuts through the loud sound of his slurps, but Chris pays it no mind. He laps and laps tongue-fulls of your blood, swallowing with eager delight. His fingers press into your soft skin, still Chris does not worry about bruising you. Instead, he shakes his head and lets out a series of pleased groans.
Your hips roll into his mouth and he welcomes the gesture with another slurp of your blood. He can feel the magical substance rush through his body, warming his once cold skin. Every swallow fills another organ and Chris is addicted to that rush of awakening nerves.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, shoving his face further into your sex. Legs wrapping around his head, Chris is only just realising that you’ve been whining and moaning this entire time. He focuses his enhanced hearing on your fragile voice, humming approving groans.
“Give it to me just like that,” you whimper. “Please, please , Chris.”
Again with those little demands , Chris thinks. At least you remembered to say please this time.
A mixture of your arousal and blood pools at your entrance, drawing Chris back to his task. His vampiric senses igniting all over again, he does not attempt to hold back. In and out, he shoves his tongue between your tightening walls, gathering as much blood as he can.
But, it’s not enough. His tongue is only collecting sips. Chris needs gulps .
He adjusts his grip on your hips, now pressing you firmly into the mattress and latches his lips over your entrance. With a deep breath, Chris begins to suck. He suctions his mouth and siphones your blood out. He swallows mouthfuls of elixir tainted blood and arousal, mismatched eyes rolling back at the satisfaction of such unholy hunger.
The more he draws, the darker you taste. Chris cannot describe it well, but he thinks it’s the taste of magic, fizzing on his tongue like sparkling water.
“ Oh, fuck ,” you cry, voice breaking as you cum.
A hint of lightness settles on his tongue upon sucking out your orgasm as well. Chris moans in delight, gulping down two more mouthfuls before finally pulling away with a wet pop .
Your legs are hyper-extended, trembling over his shoulders.
Chris glances up at you, curious to see if you’ll own the fact that you just came on his face or if you’ll get all shy and bashful. Your pleased features are laced with exhaustion as you pant. Tired eyes meeting his lustful ones, you quirk a brow. Chris licks his lips, taking the gesture as a silent question of if he is satisfied.
Physically, Chris is full. He is not sure he can down even the tiniest of sips. Sexually, however, he is just getting started.
“You alright?” he asks, sitting himself up on his knees again.
You nod, but Chris shakes his head. You know better than to respond like that , he thinks.
“Talk to me, baby.”
The term of endearment was not intentional, but Chris also does not hate the way it sounds. It slipped out last night too as he talked you through your orgasm. He can tell from the way your lips part and eyes slightly widen that you’re waiting for him to correct himself, but he refuses to. Instead, he holds your eyes without a notion of panic or regret.
“I’m okay,” you finally mutter between heavy breaths. “I…” you hesitate, attention flickering down to his crotch momentarily. “I need more.”
Chris smirks. “What do you say?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
Your lips quiver, desperation seeping into your gaze. “Please fuck me, Chris. No– don’t look at me like that. I know you want this too.”
Chris was trying to hide his smug smile, but upon your demand, he lets it take over his features. You’re a fucking brat, and he has extended the last of his generous patience. Before he can think twice, Chris smacks your sensitive pussy.
“When,” he smacks it again, “are you,” smack , “going to fucking” smack , “learn?”
Your hips jolt up with every hit, moans trembling as they tumble from your beautiful lips. Your face is a crumpled mess of pleasure and pain, desperate eyes boring into his.
Cupping you with one hand and harshly rubbing, Chris places his other by your head and hovers over your shaking body. “Listen to me, little witch,” he whispers, nudging his bloody nose against yours. “If you talk to me like that again, like I’m your little pet , I will fuck you even after the sun comes up, do you understand?”
You nod eagerly.
Chris tightens his grip on your crotch, baring his teeth with an annoyed growl. “Use your fucking words,” he orders. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I’m sorry,” you reply, voice quiet and meek.
The little whimpers you subsequently let out don’t do much to ease the throb of his cock. In fact, they only intensify it. You sound like wounded prey and he’s tired of fighting against his instincts. He’s been stifling the beast inside for the last eight years, filling himself with self-loathing instead. He’s done hating the power, fully embracing his new supernatural form.
Releasing his hold on your crotch, Chris immediately aligns and shoves himself between your walls. A loud hiss escapes his blood-dripping lips, fangs on full display, at the tight pressure around him. Fuck, if he hadn’t seen you skillfully fingering yourself last night, he would have believed you were a virgin.
You moan with him, clutching on his shoulders. “Oh, god ,” you groan, enchanting eyes fluttering shut. “ Fuck, fuck– Chris, you’re h-huge. What the actual fuck?”
Chris’s previously irritated resolve wavers upon your squealing voice. He pauses his shallow thrusts to give you time to adjust.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat as your nails dig into his warming flesh. “I-I know you need this too.”
Shifting down to his forearms, Chris buries his face in the crook of your neck, and fondly inhales your scent. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “I waited two weeks for this. Another minute won’t make a difference.”
You let out a breathless giggle, wrapping your arms around his head. A delighted hum sounds from your lips and Chris feels the vibrations of it against his face. He smiles to himself before licking and kissing your delicate skin.
Your heart is beating so fast. He can feel the thumping pounds against his tongue and can’t help but chuckle. Your skin suddenly grows hot and he realises he has embarrassed you. Yet, instead of pushing him off, you clench tighter around him.
“Please don’t laugh at me,” you whine.
Chris smirks at your tone and wording, glad to see you’re finally following his orders. Still, he decides to test it again, wondering if it’s just a fluke.
“I’m not laughing at you, little witch,” he lies.
Instead of calling him out, you remain silent.
Chris pulls back to gauge your features. Though pouting, you refrain from glaring at him too hard. Filled with pride, Chris kisses your cheek, down to your jaw then up to your chin again.
“Good girl,” he mutters once his lips are hovering over your mouth.
Your gaze flits between his eyes and blood-stained lips. Chris makes the conscious choice not to kiss you, unsure if the taste of your menstrual blood will be as delicious to you as it is to him. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him anyway, panting beneath him even when he remains motionless inside you.
But then you simply arch your back, pushing your full breasts against him, and mutter, “I’m ready now.”
Chris dips his head back down to your neck. He kisses and sucks on your hot skin, gently thrusting into you. He takes his time, with his hips and lips, dragging the process out only to forcefully shove it back in.
You’re already trembling, sweet voice hiccuping moans. Chris scratches his fangs over your collarbone just to hear you whimper his name.
“Please, Chris,” you cry.
He kisses the slightly wounded area and quietly chuckles to himself. “Do you need something, little witch?” he teasingly asks.
“F-faster, please?” you quickly ask. “I’m not telling. I’m asking– begging! Please, please , Chris!”
His cock twitches. He groans at the sound of your desperate, whiny voice, physically incapable of torturing you any longer. With supernatural speed, Chris’s hips snap into action. He thrusts harshly, fisting the sheets beneath you. The bed creaks and slams against the walls over and over again, overtaking the slapping sound of his hips meeting yours.
Your body shakes and jiggles under him, and he is obsessed with how amazing your skin feels rubbing against his. Your nails scratch at his back, before finally sinking into his shoulders. You brace yourself against him, the sounds of your broken, sobbing moans encouraging him to continue.
"You have no idea what your voice does to me,” Chris groans, lips smothered under your jaw. “I could listen to you all fucking night.”
Your legs wrap around his waist. Chris groans even louder, addicted to the way you’re clinging onto him.
“Only you can make me sound like this,” you whimper then warn a thrust later, “I’m gonna cum!”
Chris lets out a low, satisfied growl, relentless with his speed and power. He presses his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers in a deep, breathless voice, “ Cum for me, sweet girl. ”
He can feel the erratic beat of your heart against his chest. Your pussy tightly clenches around him, gripping harshly onto his cock. As you cum, squealing his name like a practised spell, he chokes on his own moans. His hips push deep inside you, tensing as he finally unloads himself. Ropes and ropes of his cum fill you up as he growls in response to your meek moans.
Chris thrusts a few more times, wanting to ensure you’ve exhausted your orgasm. Then, in two swift motions, he lifts, pulls himself out, and rolls off you. He lands on the bed with a little bounce and content sigh. He expects to see the night sky on the ceiling, like it was last night, but instead finds the sea. And there, between the lapping waves, Chris catches your reflection.
Raising a brow, he tongues his cheek and looks at you. “Enjoy the show,” he teases.
You roll your eyes, heat crawling up your neck to spread across your cheeks. “I did, actually,” you definitely reply as a last ditch effort to save a semblance of your self-respect. “You have a great butt, by the way.”
Chris laughs. He throws his head back and lets out a full-chested roar of a laugh. He can’t remember that last time he did that without you around. The last two weeks have made him feel more human than he probably ever had in his life. You’re absolutely remarkable and he’s lucky to have met you, even if it means he had to lose his soul.
Lifting his arm, Chris nods at you, silently ordering you to lean into him. You shift closer and hug his waist without another word, much to his surprise.
“You’re so pretty when you're doing as you're told,” Chris praises.
“I’m pretty always,” you retort.
Chris rolls his eyes. “Just take the compliment,” he chuckles.
“You’re not fucking me,” you practically whine. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You’re impossible,” Chris mutters under his breath. But he still holds you close, tracing soothing circles around your shoulder.
You both bask in the silence while he gives you a second to catch your breath. Once he hears your heart beat normally again, Chris asks, “Does it work right away?”
You hum with uncertainty, waving your hand to summon the book. It flies towards you then hovers over your faces. After flipping through the pages, it lands on the recipe for the elixir.
Chris tilts his eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. “Is this the right book?” he asks, as he skims through the paragraphs.
You flip the page, mumbling, “Yeah.”
There are only a few books in your personal library that Chris cannot read, having been written in an ancient language he has tried and failed to understand. However, as he stares longer at the page, Chris finds that he can read every word.
You gasp, sitting up. The book moves with you, hoving in front of you instead of on top of you now. Not that it even matters, since you grab the book from mid-air and pull it into your lap.
Chris sits up beside you. He brushes your hair off your shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong? Did we do it wrong?”
You bring a hand to your mouth as if you cannot believe what you’re reading. “We fucked up,” you whisper.
A smirk plays on his lips. “Does that mean we get to do this again?”
Setting the book down, you rub your face and choke back a chuckle. “No, I mean,” you start, turning to face him. “We really fucked up.”
Chris’s smile falters. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently running his hand up and down your bicep. “It’s alright, little witch. Take a breath,” he whispers, making sure to keep his voice light. “What happened?”
Your eyes shut, brows knotting, and lean into him. “There is a disclaimer at the end of every spell, recipe, ritual– Whatever it is, there is always a disclaimer that outlines the side effects or possible consequences to alterations.”
Chris nods, urging you to continue.
“The magic we were using is called sex magic. It usually uses the sexual energy created between the participating parties to harness power. In our case, we were only meant to use it to make you sun-proof, for lack of a better word.”
“I can think of three better words,” Chris can’t help but tease.
You fight off a smile, glaring at him. “Keep them to yourself,” you demand.
Chris pauses, wanting to tell you to behave but he can’t move his lips. His voice has diminished too, like his body is physically incapable of ordering you around.
Guilt flashes in your eyes. “When we had sex, with the elixir and spell tangled in the initial act of harvesting my blood, the purpose of the ritual shifted,” you continue, shoulders tensing. “It may have bound you to me.”
“What?” Chris asks, trying and failing not to sound annoyed. “What does that mean?”
“Witches often have familiars and demons are often serving creatures. They get summoned and must fulfil the summoner's request to be released. The spell has been documented to intertwine the two when more than the required act was performed,” you explain.
What about the crows , Chris wants to ask. He thought they held the role of a familiar.
You shake your head. “They’re more like co-inhibitors. It is their island afterall.”
Chris retracts his arm from you, setting his jaw. He knows he did not say that out loud so how the–
Shit, did I just read his mind?
Your voice is clear in his head. Blinking, Chris swallows thickly. “Is that normal?”
You hesitate. “I’ll look into it.”
“How could you have missed this?”
“I was a little busy trying to find all the ingredients,” you argue.
Chris deadpans. “ I found the ingredients,” he corrects.
You bite your lip, face crumbling with remorse. “I’m sorry, I–” you cut yourself off with a sigh then start again. “Honestly, I was too busy thinking about you eating me out. It’s why I made you go out and get those ingredients last night. I wanted the house to myself to just let out some of my–”
“Temptations?”
“ Frustrations ,” you correct with a playful glare. “I did not mean for this to happen.”
Chris sighs. He rubs his face and slumps back against your pillows.
This may not have been what he wanted, however while he wants to be upset, he cannot find it in him to be disappointed. You’re a great friend, a better lover and he’d be insane to reject you. The only real downside about this newfound connection is his inability to put you in your place. You tend to get a bit too cocky and mouth off when he lets one too many sassy comments slide.
“I don’t want this going to your head, little witch,” he warns, meeting your gaze again.
You try to hide that mischievous smile and not being able to correct it is already driving him crazy.
“No promises,” you tease. Leaning over him, you stroke his chest and add, “But you have permission to keep me in check whenever you please.”
Chris tongues his cheek. “You had to have known that I would hate the way you said that.”
Your little smile is enough confirmation.
Chris shoves you back into the bed with a gentle push of your shoulder. “You clearly haven’t had enough,” he murmurs, stationing himself between your legs again.
“But the elix–”
“To hell with the fucking elixir,” he growls. “I’ll be damned if I don’t fuck your mouth clean.”
The way you shiver at the sound of his voice arouses him all over again. Shifting off the bed, Chris stands at the edge and gestures for you to adjust yourself so your head is hanging off the mattress.
And with a simple tug of your chin, he’s determined to stay true to his words.
You eagerly oblige him.
note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.
#chantober 2024#bang chan smut#chan smut#stray kids smut#bang chan fanfic#bang chan x reader#chan fanfic#chan x reader#stray kids x reader
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MIDNIGHT TROUBLES
Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!
warnings: swearing, fluff (i guess?) angst, mentions to the giggidy (nothing actually happens), derogatory terms/names used
A/N: i was sleep deprived and cluelesss when writing this so enjoy :)
part two: meet me at midnight | part three: its not midnight anymore
You've been friends with Luke Castellan since the day you showed up at camp drenched in water and he showed you around. You've been inseparable since then - y/n and Luke. Luke and y/n, you were a package deal, wherever one went the other followed.
On this particular day you had seated yourself down on a sunny patch of grass to sing. Luke had settled himself a few feet away from you pretending not to listen as your lips parted and sound sweeter than any strawberry escaped your mouth.
His eyes shut peacefully as your song washes over him. He's always loved your singing, everyone does, your song can seem to stop time for a few moments. But Luke likes to think he loves it the most - he's your best friend, of course he gets that right.
Once you finish singing you open your eyes and Luke is staring at you with pure amazement and... something else you can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's gone in a blink. "That was beautiful, y/n," he smiles.
"Like you," you tease standing up and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You do know you don't have to sit with me and listen every time I sing don't you?"
"Yeah, I know. But I want to," Luke says, standing up with you and pulling you into a side hug. "You've got a really beautiful voice y/n."
You brush it off and wrap your arm around his waist walking along with him. "Oh but its not as beautiful as yours," you joke and Luke's laugh vibrates through you sending a jolt of tingles and a wave of repressed feelings.
You watch as Luke laughs and can't help but smile yourself. You and Luke have been deemed the camp's Mom and Dad. If anything was wrong and you didn't want to take it to Mr D or Chiron the campers would go to you two, Apollo and Hermes cabin counsellors. That's when the rumours started. Luke and y/n are dating. Although you've both denied it several times the campers never listened and you were dubbed Mom and Dad.
Even though you denied it, a small- a medium- okay a pretty huge part of you wants it to be true. I mean who wouldn't want Luke Castellan to be their boyfriend? He has offers piling up every day from girls. You're pretty sure you've even seen someone offer him a fucking apple with the words 'will you go out with me' carved into it. Luke said no of course - she was a frigging psycho - but even then he never said yes to any of the offers, the ones that you knew about anyway.
"I got patrol tonight after the campfire," you sigh and break away from Luke to give a younger boy from Aphrodite a hug when he showed you his result from arts and crafts. Not noticing how Luke tenses beside you until the boy runs off to tell his friends you hugged him.
"I'll come with you, there's bound to be some shit heads sneaking off to go hook up," he rolls his eyes looking directly at some Ares camper who you've both caught several times. "And besides, gods know you couldn't handle the dark without me."
You scowl at Luke smacking him. "Haha very funny, a daughter of the sun god is afraid of the dark, it's hilarious." Luke just grins and catches your hand against his chest, holding it there, when you go to hit him again. Your laughter fades and you both just stare at each other for a moment neither of you wanting to break it but also wanting to admit to the other that there was something happening.
Luke clears his throat and drops your hand gently. "Whatever loser, you're the one stuck with me," you tease and kiss his cheek. Walking away before you lose your nerve. Holy shit why'd you do that? you scream inside your head. What the fuck? Why? Why? You couldn't have walked away normally, but noooo you had to kiss his fucking cheek.
You press the palm of your hands into your eyes and accidentally slam into someone. "Shit sorry!" you cry out looking down to see the poor camper you practically ran over.
"It's okay! It's okay!" Percy says looking up at you and then over at Luke who hasn't moved since you walked away. "Did you break him or something?"
"Or something," you mutter, helping Percy up. "Sorry again, Percy." You force a smile onto your face and sigh as you look at Luke.
"Yeaaah, you messed him up damn." Percy drawls. "Like really messed him up. Damn what did you do? Did you like, kick him in the balls or something?"
"Percy!" you shout shutting him up. He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic when he says sorry and then scurries off when Grover calls out to him.
Sighing, you shake your head and grumble to yourself about its going to be hella awkward tonight.
~~~
Something was wrong with Luke's heart. It hadn't stopped beating wildly since y/n had kissed him on the cheek and he was trying to control his erratic pulse when he rises up the steps to your cabin.
He knocks twice on the door and takes a deep breath when you open the door and look up at him. The deep breath is cut short when he notices you're wearing his hoodie. You smile up at him and ask, "you ready to go catch some horny teens?"
He nods and lets you lead the way. "Sure, yep, let's go Sunflower." You both walk in silence for the first two minutes before Luke works up the courage to say, "nice hoodie, there by the way, it matches your flashlight."
You twist around and grin ignoring his dig at your flashlight - it's white with a bunch of sunflowers hand painted on. "Yeah, some super, cool, really annoying guy gave it to me." Luke's eyebrow arches and you roll your eyes. "Fine, I stole it from the guy, cause it's soft and smells nice," you mumble that last part and Luke tilts his head at you in question.
"What was that last part?"
"It's soft?"
"No, the other part?"
You're quiet for a moment before mumbling, "it smells..... nice."
Luke practically stops breathing, but covers it up with a smirk. "You think I smell nice?"
You internally slap yourself. "Yes," you quietly answer. Well you know what? When you thought it was going to be awkward earlier? That's nothing compared to the tension right now.
A loud moan comes from up ahead behind the trees and you sigh tugging the hoodie closer before running up ahead to break up whatever situation is happening.
"Hey!" you yell out to the two campers whose clothes are dishevelled and hair all mussed up. "Get back to your cabins! And when I say cabins I mean your own cabin." The two kids scramble away back to their cabins swearing.
"Fuckers," Luke mutters from behind you. "I swear they always choose the same spot."
You spin around and smile, "they'll be back don't worry, you can bust them next time."
After you both make your rounds, catching three other couples, you end up in a secluded spot near the lake.
"So," you start looking out to the water, smiling softly. "What do you wanna talk about?" You shove the flashlight in the front pocket just soaking in the moonlight - and besides Luke's here, he protects you from the dark.
Luke looks over at you and steps closer wrapping a hand around each of your - well technically his - hoodie's drawstrings. "I don't really know..." he trails off and then looks down at you, your eyes shining in the moonlight. And then something must've possessed him because he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.
You look up at him in surprise. "What was that for?" You ask, noticing how Luke's eyes shine with affection.
"Just paying you back for earlier."
You both freeze then - not tensing up but just not moving. Staying in the small bubble that you two have created for yourselves. The comfort of the silence that surrounds you both covers you like a blanket.
Your faces inch closer, your breaths mingling as your eyes meet and you swear you can hear your heartbeat. Can Luke hear how loud your heart is beating? Like seriously? It's so loud.
Everything seems perfect before a loud laugh erupts in the distance. You sigh and pull away from him and start walking over to where the noise came from. Were you going to kiss just then? Holy shit. Was that actually happening?
Luke's presence at your side sends you into a tailspin. Does he like you? Or was he only doing that out of pity. You reach into the hoodie to pull out your flashlight but a hand wraps around your own and you skid to a stop, looking down at Luke's hand intertwined with yours.
Luke doesn't stop though, he just keeps walking, hopefully not noticing how red your cheeks are right now.
You both round the path and find a girl sitting on a fallen log hidden in the trees, she's wrapped in nothing but a blanket she must've brought from her cabin. When the girl sees you - well more like see's Luke - her eyes brighten up.
"Oh Luke! You're finally here! I was waiting for you." A frown instantly replaces the soft smile you have on your face.
"What?" Your voice is quiet and confused.
The girl shoots you a smug look. "What? Did you actually think Luke wanted to spend time with you tonight?" She smirks. "He was only killing time to spend it with me."
What?
You know what the girl is saying is wrong but when you look at Luke you almost start crying. He's quiet at your side staring harshly at the girl. He's not denying it. He's not denying it!
"Lukey and I have plans now bitch-girl, leave." Your teeth clench so tightly you're afraid you're gonna break your jaw. Why isn't Luke SAYING ANYTHING??
You stare frigidly at the girl. "Look, I wanna say Gina..?" she asks purposely misnaming you.
"It's y/n."
"Right that's what I said," she smirks. "Now unless you want to watch me and Luke roll around on the ground here I suggest you leave."
You stay put fighting your ground. Why is Luke not saying anything??
"Ooh we've got a bit of a slut on our hands do we? Damn Gina, I didn't know you were into kinky shit."
"I don't-"
She cuts you off. "It's fine I don't mind you watching like the whore you are."
WHY ISN'T LUKE SAYING ANYTHING?
The girl turns her eyes on Luke again. "I'm waiting for you Luke. Tell her to piss off. Or better yet, tell her that we've been sleeping together."
Luke stays quiet, his eyes locked on the girl.
What. The. Fuck?
The girl opens her mouth to start again but you turn around before she can say anything else.
"Y'know what? I'll leave you two to it," you spit, forcing the tears that spring to your eyes to stop.
"Wait y/n!" Luke calls out suddenly, but you've already launched into a sprint not caring what he has to say now. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it.
Tears blur your eyes and you struggle to pull out your flashlight, tripping over a tree root and stumbling to the ground. You face plant onto the ground and even though you're wearing long pants you can feel your skin being torn.
It's dark and cold
You have scratches along your face and arms - where the hoodie pushed up - everything burns your skin, your face, your eyes, your heart.
He didn't deny it.
You pat around looking for your flashlight. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be lost, no! Luke painted it for you, when you first came to camp and when he found out you were afraid of the dark.
Luke made that. Your Luke made tha-
Your face crumples.
Luke.
He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop her.
Your heart heavy as you do so, you stand up, fighting the new wave of tears that threaten to overcome you.
A chill hits you and you pull the dirty hoodie closer. It still smells like Luke.
And...
And its dark...
Shit.
Anger pools deep in your gut. She called you a slut and a whore.
That bitch better watch it.....
©strawberries-and-summer-days
a/n: lemme know if you want a part two!!
#luke castellan#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#fanfiction#fanfic#percy jackson fic#percy jackson fanfic#emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆
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I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ノ✧
Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"
Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~
Love's Dance
Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729
Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)
The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did.
I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission.
“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge.
Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.
All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth.
I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.
The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers.
Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries.
“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me.
“Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy.
Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me.
“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…”
“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud.
“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added.
I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with.
“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?���
All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be.
But alas. Good things always end.
“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”
Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.
I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.
That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world.
To Agent White Gold,
Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.
A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.
Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target.
Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success.
Don’t disappoint us,
Arm
Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they?
I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out.
Yet, I want to live.
I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren.
It is best I comply.
“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”
The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us.
A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me.
“Why so sad?” I asked the couple.
“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy.
“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.”
I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings.
“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?”
“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage.
“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them.
I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore.
Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead.
I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways?
…
An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry.
The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings.
“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window.
“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler.
“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed.
The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast.
“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking.
“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors.
Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.”
“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.
What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.
Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use.
“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made.
He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.”
“Not good…”
“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.”
Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”
“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound.
Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike.
…
“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!”
“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.
I’m already in the Henituse territory!
Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in.
“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me.
Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s.
I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay.
“That was…something.”
The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.
They were too lively in my opinion.
Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing.
“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly.
Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms.
“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?”
“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.
It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing.
“That’s…it?”
This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible?
“Unfortunately, it is.”
“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.
“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said.
“....” I looked down at the list.
To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…
“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.
“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place.
…
“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him.
“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.”
Politics….
!
“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?”
Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.”
“...”
I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once?
“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.
“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.”
Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me!
“I’ll be attending in that case.”
“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.”
Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room.
I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come.
“!”
“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy.
“Choi Han, is there something you need?” Cale asked.
“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained.
Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look?
“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.”
“I see…thank you young master,” Han vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave.
“Oh, and, Choi Han?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave.
“Yes, Cale?”
“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed.
“...yes” he responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision.
Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother…
…
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#cale henituse x reader#cale henituse#trash of the count's family x reader#trash of the count's family#lout of the count’s family#lout of the count's family x reader#reader input#x reader#manhwa x reader#totcf#manhwa#manhwa fanfic#choi han#ron#deruth henituse
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cold nights // part thirty-two
summary: the end.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.9k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.
a/n:
the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(
ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!
if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!
just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')
see you soon!
my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)
send me any and all of your thoughts! here!
series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board
You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.
Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.
It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.
Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.
"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.
"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.
"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."
"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."
"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.
"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.
"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.
You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.
The funeral.
All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.
"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."
"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"
You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."
"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."
"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.
"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."
The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.
You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.
It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.
Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."
You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.
You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.
You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.
Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.
He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.
Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.
He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.
As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.
Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.
"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.
"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."
"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."
You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.
"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.
"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.
"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.
"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."
He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."
"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.
This was it. This was your breaking point.
Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.
Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"
"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.
When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."
You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."
"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."
You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.
"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.
"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."
"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."
You pry your eyes open to face him.
"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"
"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.
"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."
"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.
"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."
"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.
"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"
"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.
He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"
You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.
"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.
Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.
"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."
"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."
"That should not be enough, though." You insist.
"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.
He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."
"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.
He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"
"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.
You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.
taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss
okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!
also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)
#tbosas#tbosas x reader#tbosas fic#tbosas fanfiction#thg#thg series#thg fanfiction#thg fanfic#thg fic#the hunger games#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus x you#coriolanus imagine#coryo snow#coryo#coryo x you#coryo x reader#snow lands on top#snow x reader
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Hello, my first time requesting, but please i badly needed part two of 'It hurts, doesn't it?"
Cried so much because someone betrayed me.
It hurt's, doesn't it? Part 2
Summary: Diego caught you and Five kiss, after you both watched him and Five's girlfriend cheating. Diego insults you out of anger, will Five step in for you?
Of course my dear, take a cup of coffee and a warm blanket, Five will heal all of your wounds!
"Did you really… like me all this time?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?!", Diego screamed.
You had expected Five to jump up from you, push you away or even ram you to the side, but no. His body only pressed harder against your own. You swallowed, getting caught felt worse than you expected. Your stomach tightened and your hands clawed into the seat of the van. You put a hand around the back of Five's neck to pull yourself up and support yourself by your arm.
When Diego, after several moments, angrily yanked the door open, you felt mortal fear. “You fucking whore…” he whispers to you as he captures you with his eyes. Five's grip on your waist tightened. “Watch how you talk to her,” Five mutters angrily. "I talk to my girlfriend how I want to, brother", he says.
The tension in the van was palpable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Diego's glare felt like a sharp blade cutting through the air, and you could feel the heat of it burning into your skin. His words echoed in your mind—girlfriend. The weight of the accusation hung heavy between you, Five, and Diego, creating a suffocating silence.
Five’s grip on your waist was firm, protective even, and you could sense the quiet storm brewing in him. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked toward his brother, not backing down. He was always calm under pressure, but you could tell that Diego’s words had struck a nerve. The van’s confined space only added to the suffocating tension.
"Diego, this isn’t the way," you said softly, trying to de-escalate, but your voice trembled with the weight of the situation. You weren’t sure what Diego had seen, or what he thought he saw, but this was spiraling out of control.
“Whore?” Five growled, his voice low but dangerous, his gaze locking onto Diego. His body shifted slightly, as though he was ready to throw himself between you and his brother at a moment’s notice. "She was not the one flirting with my girlfriend in there", Five arguments, whipping his head to the side of the restaurant.
Diego’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting in anger. "That’s not the point, Five," he spat, his voice laced with frustration. "You don’t get to play the hero here. You were all over her," he gestured wildly at you, his hand trembling with rage. "What the hell are you thinking?"
Five shifted slightly, his body still shielding you from Diego’s intense gaze. His voice was low and cold when he spoke, but there was an undeniable fire behind his words. "I’m thinking that I’m tired of all of this. Tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong while you’re in there playing happy with someone else." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the anger and pain he was holding back. "I gave everything, Diego, and you threw it away. So don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here."
Diego’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins in his neck straining. His eyes darted between you and Five, as if searching for something—some explanation, some way to make sense of the mess unraveling in front of him.
"You don’t understand," Diego muttered, his voice barely audible now, as if he was losing control of his own emotions. He took a step back, his eyes flicking to you, and for a brief moment, you saw something other than anger in his gaze—regret, maybe even guilt. "There is nothing to understand Diego, she gave you everything and you threw it away like it was nothing. She doesn't deserve you", Five says with a lower tone.
Your hand travels up his waist, you hid your hand into his shirt, hoping Diego wouldn't see it. "You always had an eye on her Five, don't you dare to play the victim!"; he screams angrily.
Five’s eyes darkened as Diego's accusation cut through the air. He stood still for a moment before letting out a low sigh, his voice unusually soft. “You’re not entirely wrong, Diego. I liked her before. Long before you two were together.”
Diego’s face twisted in disbelief, rage boiling up. “You’ve had your eye on her this whole time? Waiting for me to mess up?”
Five’s grip on you tightened slightly, but his tone remained calm, steady. “No. I never wanted it to be this way. But I watched you throw her away, over and over again. I buried my feelings, out of respect for you. But then you left her.”
Diego’s fists clenched as he stepped forward. “So now you think you can just step in?”Five shook his head, glancing at you briefly. “No, Diego. I didn’t plan any of this. But I couldn’t watch you hurt her anymore.”Diego’s jaw clenched, and without another word, he turned away and stormed off, leaving the two of you standing in the thick silence.Five turned to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”
Five’s confession hung in the air, the weight of his words pressing against you. Diego's retreating footsteps echoed in the silence as he left the two of you alone in the van.
You turned to Five, your heart pounding. "Did you really… like me all this time?"
Five hesitated, searching your eyes before answering. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I never acted on it. You were with Diego, and I respected that. I kept my distance because… it wasn’t my place.”
You swallowed, your emotions a tangled mess. “And now?” Five looked at you, his eyes softening. “Now, everything’s different. I didn’t plan this, but… I care about you. More than I should’ve allowed myself to.” Your breath caught, unsure of what to say. But deep down, a part of you knew that things between you and Five had always been different—always deeper than friendship. In that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had always felt it too.
For all the people who wanted a part 2 :)
#tua#smut#request#reader#five#five x reader#five hargreeves#aesthetic#five hargreaves x reader#number five#umbrella academy
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I like the way you kiss me p1.
sam carpenter x reader
i like the way you kiss me pt.2
Summary: You catch sam’s eyes in a grocery store and slide her your number and after you guys call she comes home one day to see you and Tara working on a project together.
A/N: hey yall…it’s been so long uhm 2 years to be exact but, i’m back!! And we’re not gonna talk abt how it’s been two years and my writing hasn’t improved… Anyway, Here’s a fic abt sam from scream shes literally so fine and a cutie patootie so ofc I had to write about her. Also part two for this fic has already been made so I’ll post that soon!
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Milk, Pickles, Ice cream, Spray deodorant and, Toothpaste. Milk, Pickles, Ice cream, Spray deodorant and, Toothpaste. Milk, Pickles, Ice cream, Spray deodorant and, Toothpaste. Sam reads over her grocery list times and times again to make sure she doesn’t leave anything. After what happened last Halloween the corner store is her least favorite place to be. So she tries to make her trips as fast as possible.
Sam looks up at the clock above the glass covered register to see the time. Suddenly something or, someone catches her eye. A beautiful woman with y/h/c and y/e/c walks toward the counter and grabs a few bags before going to other isles. Sam stops in her tracks shocked by the woman’s beauty.
It’s not like she didn’t know she was bi but for some reason every-time she saw a beautiful woman it was a different feeling than when she would see an attractive man. It’s like water suddenly being poured on her. A feeling almost impossible to explain unless you’re experiencing it in the moment. It takes Sam a moment to realize she hasn’t stopped staring at you for almost 30 seconds. You notice this and raise your eyebrow at Sam which causes her to look down and pretend nothing happened.
You walk over to her and Sam stays still as a mannequin not daring to move. The closer you get the more Sam starts to sweat. “Excuse me?” You say as u let out a chuckle. Suddenly Sam realizes she’s standing right in front of the toothpaste as if that wasn’t what she came here to get the whole time. “Oh.” Sam moves away obviously embarrassed and shocked by her behavior towards the shorter woman.
She’s usually not this awkward.
You grab your toothpaste and move on puzzled by the interaction until it hits you why the girl in the isle reacted towards you like that. On a whim you decide to write your number on a piece of paper. After you check out you look around the corner store to find the girl and as you go up to her all you say is “Just incase you wanna go grocery shopping again.” And you hand her the number with a smirk. Sam is left confused by your attempt at flirting with her and gives you a puzzled look as you leave the store.
“Tara,” Sam says as she opens her apartment door. “I’m home.”
“God, what took you so long?,” Tara asks practically sprinting into the kitchen to see what groceries Sam got. “No hot fries? Sam I requested one thing come on…” Sam looks down at the girl and laughs. “Whatever, you know I’m trying to get us to eat healthier.” Walking to the sink to wash her hands Sam empty’s her pockets not noticing the paper with your number falling out.
“Hey what’s this?” Tara asks grabbing the paper before Sam can. “Nothing” says Sam desperately trying to dry her hands before her sister reads the note. “Looks like a special someone’s number to me…” “It’s nothing Tara come on give it up.”
“Fine whatever you say Sam” Tara says in a teasing voice. “I’m going to back to my room, oh and also, one of my friends from uni is gonna come over tomorrow we need to work on a project together.” Sam nods as she finishes unpacking her groceries.
���Don’t forget to call that girl Sam” says a giggling Tara.
Later that night as Sam is showering she wonders why you would even give her your number and if she should call you. Would it be rude not to? It’s not like she was looking for anyone to date. She hadn’t dated since (I forgot his name lmao). And she wasn’t sure she ever would again. Maybe you guys could be friends? She doesn’t have a lot of those. Sam decided she’d call you after she got out the shower but If you didn’t answer the first time then she wouldn’t try again.
Sam sat on the edge of her bed biting her fingers out of anxiousness. She dialed your number and prayed you wouldn’t answer. But secretly she knew she wanted you to. After two rings the phone clicked and she heard a sweet voice say “Hello.”
She stumbled across her words for a second before she said “Hey, uhm I’m the girl from the grocery store I’m not sure if you remeber but you gave me your number?” “Oh my gosh hi! Of course I didn’t forget how could I?” “What do you mean how could you?” Sam asks. “Well you were gorgeous first off and we had a funny interaction!” You say your smile visible in your voice. Sam lightly chuckles as she replies with a shy “oh”. That night you guys talked for hours about whatever you found interesting until you had to say goodbye saying you had things to work on the next day but you promised you’d call her again when you got the chance.
That was the first time in months Sam went to bed not feeling sick to her stomach.
Sam served her last latte of the day before walking home to her apartment. She constantly looked over her shoulder hands ready to grab her pocket knife at any moment if she needed to.
You sat on Tara’s living room floor talking to her about the project you two were doing, clothes, and relationships. All while stuffing ur faces with snacks and watching she’s all that. Suddenly you heard keys jingling. “God my sister’s home, if she’s makes any rude comments toward you please ignore it and forgive me. She’s a tad bit overprotective.” You eyed Tara and nodded. Once the door opened your jaw was on the floor.
Sam was her sister? You didn’t dare utter a word as Sam looked at you as if she had seen a ghost.
“Sam this is y/n. We’re doing our project.” She looked up at Sam begging and praying she wouldn’t say anything out of pocket. Sam nodded and set her stuff down as fast as possible before going into her room to get away from where you two were.
“Well that was weird.” Tara said. You nodded and tried to wrap your mind around what just happened. You and Tara worked for hours not once seeing Sam. It was so late by the time you guys decided to call it quits Tara offered for you to just stay the night since she didn’t want you waking alone at night. You got comfy on the coach until Sam walked out of her room for the first time in hours. She eyed you and the blankets on the couch then she looked over at Tara. “Are you really making your guest sleep on the couch?” “What my beds too small for us both to fit where else can she go.” Tara rolled her eyes at her sister. “Unless you wanna offer your bed up…?” You went wide eyed, “No please I’m fine on the couch I swear.” Sam let out a breath as she said “No. You’re not. You can stay in my bed tonight I really don’t mind.” Trying your hardest to escape the awkwardness you just nodded and let Sam walk you over to her room.
As you set on her bed you called her name before she walked out. She turned back to look at you her expression shockingly cold. “Sam, I’m really sorry I didn’t know Tara was your sister-“ “You don’t need to apologize y/n.” She said cutting you off. She walked out of her room leaving you sitting on her bed slightly upset. She knew it was better this way. Neither her or Tara would get hurt. But she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she told you she still wanted to talk to you.
#wlw ship#sam carpenter#sam carpenter x reader#scream#scream 6#tara carpenter#ethan landry#amber freeman#melissa barrera
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Chapter Eight: Feels Like
summary: in the aftermath, revelations are made (7k words).
warnings: allusions to sex, medical complications.
eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.
masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter
——
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Three words. Three simple words — and yet the most terrifying ones. The ones that changed everything. That marked a turning point, a declaration, a fork in the road. On one side, turn back — run to safety, to what you knew, the easier route. On the other, push onwards, accept change — take a flying leap into the air with nothing but faith to catch you.
And the look, the look on Eddie’s face. The pure, unadulterated fear at the way your features couldn’t dare to hide the swimming emotions that choked off your airway. The face that had betrayed you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and captured your tears with his thumbs — as his brows furrowed at the pout of your bottom lip.
“Sweetheart…”
But it was too late. Caught up in the moment or not, caught up in the bliss of a post-sex haze — he’d said the words and they were there now. Out in the open. He couldn’t just will them away, couldn’t pretend he’d never said them, couldn’t turn back the very hands of time.
“You love me?”
You whimpered. Felt your heart cleave down the center at the way his mouth mashed against your forehead, those broad arms of his curling you against his chest, right where you could feel his form trembling down to the bone marrow. Could hear the thunderous beat of his heart clamoring through the tee shirt your fingers bunched up within your palm.
“I —”
His mouth opened. Shut again. Opened once more to speak, to say something, to hopefully quell your screaming fears tumbling one after the other within your mind, but as he did so the doorbell rang. A resounding ring that offered the distraction you needed to drown out the disquiet in your soul.
You dressed in the silence that echoed within the room. Donned a pair of sleep shorts and pulled on your too-big hoodie. Padded down the hall with Eddie on your heels, slipper-covered feet clapping against the floor.
Before your fingers met the handle on the front door, Eddie called your name. Frowned softly as you whirled around to look at him, those lips of his marred by hurt you'd put there. Had never meant to — had never wanted to, but it happened all the same. With a slow exhale, you leaned up onto your toes and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Caught the hitched breath in the back of his throat.
As you pulled back, your resolve shattered at the brokenness there. At the way he regarded you like you were already distancing away from him — or maybe it was him distancing himself from you. Either way, you could see those walls building up behind his eyes. Watched as he erected the surface brick by brick to protect himself. Couldn’t even blame him, because you knew you’d done the same for months now.
Eddie went and opened the door at the second ring. Lingered behind as you shrieked when, there on the front step of your home, stood none other than Micah and Jeremiah, their bags in hand and car parked on the curb, seemingly packed for a day or two.
You were all a blur of limbs and tear-streaked cheeks, your arms looped around Micah’s neck, her arms around your waist. Her hand pressed to your belly when you stepped back, jumping up and down excitedly when Elena made her presence known. “There’s really a baby in there! Still can’t get over it.” She nearly squealed, as Jeremiah looped an arm around your shoulder and Eddie’s and tugged you both in close.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, not complaining, definitely not at all complaining. And even so, it was wholly unexpected. The last time you’d spoken with the girl, she’d been uncertain of if or when she��d be able to make it into town.
“Eddie invited us to stay with you two, actually. Wanted it to be a surprise,” Jeremiah said, clapping the man you’d been living with for months now on the shoulder gleefully. “Got yourself a good one here.”
I love you, Eddie had said. The words and the timbre of them, the way they sounded on his lips, filled your ears once again. Silenced everything else around you as Eddie helped lead your best friends further into his home and gave them a tour. You remained at Micah’s side, mind far away as you followed along with them, drawing comfort from the way Elena pushed at the palm you kept positioned over your midsection.
“You okay, babe?” Micah asked as you all settled down in the living room and the guys opened up cans of beer, sleep suddenly a thought pushed far away from your fatigued mind.
“Just in shock,” you muttered, far away, watching Eddie’s profile as he laughed at something your best friend’s boyfriend had shared. Eddie’s dark eyes met yours, and you heard it again: I love you. A mantra, a steady beat, a promise. “I just…can’t believe you’re here.”
Not a lie. Not quite, at least. And yet, Micah frowned. Reached over and laced her fingers within your own. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Not really. No. Not at all. You held your breath as Eddie offered you a weak smile — as you smiled back, knowing you needed a moment with him, and yet also acknowledging that now wasn’t the time. Not with your company for the next few days.
I love you.
His words screamed into that faraway, tucked-into-the-shadows shard of your heart. The place where the idea of ‘love’ had gone and ceased to be. The place where hurt had watered the seeds of resentment over the mere concept of it.
“No…no, it’s fine.” You assured her, and she seemed to accept the words, knowing better than to push you for answers. “Do you want to see what Eddie did with Elena’s room?”
A distraction.
You needed a distraction.
“Sure, babe,” Micah whispered, squeezing your hand tight as you excused yourselves from the room.
She didn’t press you any further.
——
May morning light streamed in through Eddie’s bedroom window. After hours of chatting with friends, you’d both made your way into the bedroom in silence, freshly washed faces and brushed teeth gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the gently parted curtains.
Neither brought up Eddie’s words. You wondered if it was for your benefit, or to protect his own heart. Like he couldn’t fathom seeing the look on your face once more, and the answer you’d unwittingly given by not saying anything at all. And even if you wanted to talk about it, you didn’t know how to bring it up now. The moment had passed, the harm was done, and the guilt that filled your heart overwhelmed every other thought you might have had in your mind. Because Eddie had gone and invited your best friends to Hawkins. He’d wanted to give you a slice of your home away from home, before your lives completely changed from what you once knew.
Even now, he held you close. The nearness of his body against your spine a comfort, a warmth you’d grown accustomed to, his breath dancing along the slope of your shoulder, where the strap of your nightgown had slipped down a bit. One of his broad hands rested against the curve of your hip, always seeking you out, always seeking touch — even in your sleep. When it happened, the endless need for close proximity, for touch, you weren’t certain, but it became familiar. As simple as breathing, even when love was not.
His other hand lay sprawled over the curve of your midsection. Rumpled up the silky fabric of your dress, edging the lace up higher on your thigh. Most mornings, he’d rouse you with kisses against every inch of you he could reach until you hummed into him, the press of him, hot and hard at your backside. Often you’d roll over, and then onto him, watching his umber eyes blow out dark, nearly black, with the rising sun as you sunk down onto him and rolled your hips over his. Other mornings, he’d wake you with his head between your thighs, or your mouth on him, a previously spoken agreement between both of you.
Today wasn’t like that. There were no long, drawn out languid kisses and wandering hands. No sighs as he inched his mouth along your throat, the huffs of his stuttering breath as your fingers slid beneath the band of his sweats, no pleas for more as his guitar string calloused fingers teased at your center.
Instead you were met with silence and persistent heartache over the memory of the flicker of pain that crossed Eddie’s features the night before.
Later, after an awkward exchange in bed wherein Eddie grumbled to himself he’d make everyone breakfast, you found yourself cornered at a local spa by your three best friends, their introductions full of giggling and excited energy. You were hardly surprised — Micah and Chrissy were very similar, two kindred souls, and Robin loved Micah from the moment they’d all met.
Still, it brought you joy knowing they all got along, their conversation easy as you all slipped into fluffy robes and sat around as massage therapists rubbed at your shoulders, eyes nearly closed from the bliss of it. Eddie had arranged the whole thing; a morning out with your closest girlfriends, getting your nails done, massages to follow. You’d gone with a pale pink on your fingers and a matching shade on your toes, similar to that of your daughter’s bedroom.
Eddie, who always went above and beyond to make you smile. Had given up room in his home, had been there for you the moment you told him you were having his baby, had stepped up in ways you’d never thought imaginable. Eddie, who loved giving the most of himself, had always done so for as long as you’d known him, who was still doing that now.
Elena was a lucky little girl. You both were. And it hurt you to dwell on it — the realization he’d done this, had planned it some time ago.
“We need to have an intervention,” Chrissy stated when you later arrived at a restaurant for an early lunch, her palms splayed over the table. “You’ve been in your head all morning. And don’t say you haven’t been, you have that little forehead wrinkle —”
“She does get a forehead wrinkle when she’s overthinking,” Micah added, nodding as she sipped at her mimosa. “I knew something was up last night. She’s been all giggly over the moon because of all the sex she’s been having, and suddenly it’s all grumbles and sad looks —”
“Well this just got interesting,” Robin mused, leaning back against her chair. “You didn’t tell us you and Eddie were christening his household.”
“You two are his best friends. I — it’s weird. And that’s…that’s not important,” you said hurriedly, tossing a french fry into your mouth. “I’m just…he just…hetoldmehelovedme.”
“I’m going to need you to take a deep breath and say that slower,” Chrissy said with an uneasy giggle, “because it sounded like you spoke another language for a second there.”
“He told me he loved me,” you told them, sipping at your cup of seltzer water, shrugging like you hadn’t just dropped a major declaration on them.
“Okaaaay, and?” Micah urged, waving a hand in front of her face impatiently.
Robin frowned. A soft and impossibly understanding looking thing that had her reaching across the table when your lips twitched downward. “Honey…”
“I didn’t say anything at all,” you admitted, fighting the urge to cry. Swallowed the watery sob that tickled the back of your throat. “He told me he loved me and I just…I sat there. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak — but it was too late. He looked so sad. And I feel terrible; I am terrible.”
When no one said anything, all around the table giving you looks with varying degrees of pity behind them, you continued, “I was scared. I'm still scared. What if he wakes up one day and decides I’m not what he wants anymore? What if he realizes he made a mistake?”
Chrissy exhaled, clambering up and off her chair to move to your side, arm looped around your shoulder. “Can we play the tape forward again?” She glanced at your friends, asking, “Don’t you think we should play the tape forward?” Micah nodded, Robin agreeing with a squeeze to your palm still curled within her own.
“Scenario one,” you said, exhaling shakily, “We continue this, he realizes this isn’t really what he signed up for, and he goes on his merry way. I have to watch him date other people, bring them around our daughter, and move on without me.”
Scenario one was always the negative route, and Chrissy nodded as you finished, offering you a comforting nod. “Okay, now scenario two,” she said, knowing it was her turn for her little exercise. “What if you two are it for each other? You raise Elena together, go on the road together, make new memories, fall deeper in love. You watch that little girl one day go off to college and start her own life, and you’re still just as in love, and maybe you’ve gone through some trials in your relationship since then, but doesn’t everyone? Isn’t every relationship worth fighting for? And you’re happy. Both of you are genuinely and completely happy and you’re together.”
“Also, Eddie isn't like those in your past. He’s not your family that walked away, not your friends who have come and gone, he’s not all those heartbreaks that have come before,” Micah added, offering you a kind smile. “I mean, he did all of this to make you happy. The man put together our whole outing and made sure Jeremiah and I had a place to stay while we were here. I think anyone who spent two minutes with you two could see how much that man loves you and your little girl…who isn’t even here yet.”
“Love shows up,” Chrissy said, “let Eddie show that he will.”
“Dingus Two found his girl,” Robin mused, poking fun at Chrissy’s husband with a cheeky grin. “But here’s the big question: do you love him?”
There it was. The question that had been plaguing you for weeks now. Did you love him? Did you love Eddie Munson? The easy answer, the one that came to your mind swiftly, was yes. A simple word, but along with it the heaviest of weights. You loved him — truly and deeply loved him. It had only taken a matter of weeks to fall for him, only a matter of weeks to solidify just what he’d meant to you, and a matter of weeks to realize what was at stake if you ever lost him.
“There’s your answer,” Robin teased, pointing at the small smile gracing your lips.
“God, I’m so stupid,” you groaned, curling a palm over your forehead.
“You’re not stupid,” Micah argued, running around the table to curl you and Chrissy into her embrace. “You just needed some time. You deserve this. You’re worthy of this. And I’m so proud of you, babe.”
Chrissy practically squealed as she rubbed at the tears collecting on your bottom lashes, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes. “I love you so so much,” she enthused, giggling brightly, “but…today isn’t over yet, and we’re on a time restraint. Eddie’s next request on your day of pampering is to find a dress, any dress, for dinner at my place.”
Your brows arched. “I have dresses back at our place —”
“He wanted you to pick out a new one,” Micah said, teasingly wagging her brows.
So with a renewed hope burning in your gut, your friends and you finished lunch, gathered your things, and headed to the department store where they tossed you dozens of dresses in search of the perfect one. And finally, as you laid a long black dress with daisies along the fabric along your form, you stepped out into the waiting area of the fitting room to three beaming faces, all of which cheering on your choice, your mind still whirling with the knowledge that Eddie had done all of this because he loved you.
And you loved him.
——
“No way…”
The words died on your lips as you walked out into the backyard after your girl friends and saw the array of people seated and chatting around the tables set out across the Harrington’s backyard lawn. There, along the interior of a tent set up above a table positively overflowing with baby gifts, was an archway of pink balloons, and against the table a hanging sign that said baby girl in pretty block letters.
And there, organizing packages against the table that partygoers handed him, was the man who was responsible for all of this. For your friends being here in Hawkins, for the evening you had with them at the spa and out for lunch, for the baby shower you’d just stumbled into.
Beside you, Robin, Chrissy and Micah were all glowing smiles. Little cheers and clapping hands as you took in your surroundings, from Steve and Jeremiah at the grill, to “the kids” seated around a table, waving as you entered, friends from work, Joyce and Hopper who you’d become friends with over the weeks, Wayne, who tipped a beer in your direction with a smile that crinkled at the corners of his mouth and eyes.
Eddie turned then, looking handsome as ever in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a black tee shirt that showed all of the tattoos you’d trailed your fingers over these last few weeks. He’d tied his hair back, little curled tendrils falling around the sides of his face, swaying in the gentle breeze as he walked your way and leaned down to kiss your forehead. Forehead, you noticed, with a pang of disappointment.
Still, your fingers curled in the front of his shirt, sandaled feet wiggling against the grass as you whispered, “Was this your doing?”
“Chrissy helped,” he said, gesturing to the blonde who merely mouthed that she loved you at Eddie’s words. “We invited all of the family.”
All of the family. Because when you glanced around the party parameters, family was all you saw. People who had been strangers months ago, and were now the ones you leaned on, the ones who loved unabashedly, the ones who had been there when no one else was. The ones you chose, and the ones who made you realize that, in a world of frequent hurt, there were people who would always walk beside you no matter what.
These people. And at the center of all of that — Eddie Munson.
“You didn’t have to do all of this —”
“I wanted to,” he said, brushing another kiss along your forehead. “We all did.”
“Now come on,” Chrissy said, practically bouncing on her toes as she rushed over to clasp your hand in hers, “there are guests to greet, and a special chair with your name on it for the mom-to-be. Let us spoil you!”
The evening passed in hazy pastel pinks that mirrored the sunset against the sky. Lilac purples as you pulled out baby girl outfit after outfit. Pretty olive greens on little sleepers and baby blankets. In dusty oranges, like the colors of the rainbow binkies, bibs and bottle tops you received.
Micah sat beside you writing down the endless things you got, while Chrissy and Robin giggled conspiratorially to themselves as they plastered the endless ribbons and bows on packages to a makeshift hat that you definitely knew would be atrocious by the end result.
Eddie lingered by Steve and Jeremiah at a lone table, his legs kicked out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, a smile plastered on his face. It made your heart skip in your chest, watching him watch you. Made you want to run over and tell him the three words that rattled around in your brain all afternoon with every new gift opened.
You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.
Later, as Eddie pushed the gifted stroller you got, filled to the brim with packages, into his home you thought about telling him. The words bubbled up on your lips as he and Steve worked on unloading everything into Elena’s room. As you started to put away the things you knew you could, while you tossed all her new clothes into a hamper to be washed before she arrived.
Steve leaned over to give you a hug before he announced he was heading out for the evening, and Eddie thanked him with a clap against his back and a tight squeeze, before the man wished you both goodnight and offered a final congratulations for the little girl everyone had celebrated that evening.
You slipped into your shared bedroom in uncomfortable silence, Micah and Jeremiah driving back home to the city and leaving you with a quiet home once more. It had been a tearful goodbye, your hands on her cheeks and hers on your midsection as she promised she’d be back as soon as possible to meet Elena. Jeremiah had even whispered in your ear he’d gotten Micah a ring and, after you demanded him to show you, thanked him for being the best brother by choice one could have, and a loving soon-to-be uncle.
“I’m going to spend the night at my uncle’s…” Eddie announced as you clambered up and onto the bed, blankets tugged high against your thighs.
“What?” Your head tilted to the side, not quite understanding, even as Eddie grabbed a few of his things and began tossing them into a backpack.
“I just…I think I need a minute?” He swallowed thickly, and your heart ached with it. With the understanding of what he was saying. “Just — just need to, ah, clear my head, you know?”
“Eddie, I…”
But you understood. Had seen the look on his face clear as day — the hurt there. He’d laid his heart out for you, gave you the power to do with it as you would, and you’d remained quiet. In your silence, he’d gotten his perceived answer.
“Just for the night,” he stated, a pair of his sweats tossed into the bag with a ratty old band tank top. “I’ll see you when I get off from work tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay…” You said, even thought it was far from okay.
None of this was okay.
You wanted to scream, to cry, to shout that you loved him. And even so, you knew now wasn’t the time. Not when he’d already made up his mind, stewed in his hurt, and ached with the full force of it. He was allowed all of what he was feeling — deserved to sit in his emotions and their fullness.
Still, it did nothing for the sting of rejection in your gut as you followed him down the hall, watching his backpack thump against his narrow back. Did nothing to quell the ache in your chest when he turned around and cupped your cheek in his palm, eyes dark and focused on yours, full of love and sadness all the same. Leaning up onto your toes, you brushed your lips against his, the barest of touches, a shuddered breath falling from your softly parted lips.
For a moment his resolve wavered, hands pulling you closer, breathing a little ragged. Flickered across his features as he leaned back down and kissed you again. But your fingers reached up and gently rubbed along his sternum, forehead nuzzling against his, and he took a step back, fingers curling around the front door handle.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, night pouring into the home, anguish seeping into your blood.
“See you tomorrow,” you muttered back a little brokenly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he slipped out and shut the door behind him. “I love you.”
A whisper, a little too late, but not at all untrue.
And then, without Eddie’s laughter and voice to fill the home, silence.
——
Something wasn’t right.
Then again, a lot hadn’t been right since Eddie walked out last night to spend the rest of his evening at Wayne’s. Waking up had been miserable with the lack of Eddie’s warmth along your back. That and you missed the sound of his voice, that first slow breath he always let out when he leaned over and kissed you long and gently, like he’d poured all of the time he’d spent missing you in his dreams along with it, overflowing with emotion.
But this wasn’t just the persistent ache in your chest that had been there since Eddie closed the door behind him. This was a cramping feeling that throbbed low against your stomach, like your menstrual cramps but stronger. Breath falling from you in a groan, you walked over to the front desk library check out area, hand on your back, your coworker, Holly’s, eyes nervously fixed on your face.
“That’s five,” she pointed out, sliding out a chair and rolling it over for you to sit down on. Once seated, her hand curled around your shoulder, a contemplative look on her features, “I think you need to get out of here and go to the hospital. I’ll take care of everything —”
“I can’t,” you gritted out through clenched teeth, wincing at the pain, “It’s too early. I'm only thirty weeks.”
“Exactly why you need to go,” she said, and you nodded because you knew. “Please, just…get checked out. We can take care of everything around here.”
You tried calling Eddie at the nurses office, but the phone only continued to ring, the guys likely in the back working. Tried again when Steve popped his head in and said Chrissy would take you to the hospital, hugging you when you’d whimpered you were scared. Tried a final time when you got to the hospital, terrified when you were immediately hooked up to various monitors and pricked with what felt like dozens of needles.
“It’s going to be okay,” Chrissy reassured you, when the doctor’s said they needed to keep you there to try and stop what looked to be preterm labor. Words that terrified you, because they were the ones that immediately dropped like lead in your stomach, worry for Elena tightening your chest. Choked off your breathing. “And he’ll be here soon, okay? Robin raced over there to get him. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”
Her fingers swept back and forth over your knuckles, words a comforting whisper that quelled the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage.
Mind whirling with thoughts, you closed your eyes and tipped your head to the ceiling, trying to breathe deep. Elena would be okay — she wouldn’t come today. Everything would be absolutely okay. The doctor’s were going to do their best to make sure of it. Chrissy was here, you weren’t alone, everything was fine, and Eddie would be here soon.
——
To say Eddie Munson hated hospitals was an understatement. The last time he’d been here, him and his mother had gone in, and only one of them made it out. This time, the two most important people in his life were here, one of which was likely scared out of their mind and he’d been gone. He’d left and something had gone wrong; he’d left and regretted it from the moment he’d closed the door. Had almost turned back around and rushed back into the house, claiming your lips with his, wanting you laying prettily against a mountain of pillows on his bed so he could whisper he loved you into your mouth once more.
But he hadn’t. He’d driven away and watched his house grow smaller in the distance, slept at his uncle’s, and missed your phone calls when you’d needed him the most. Had nearly shit himself when Robin rushed in without warning, earning the attention of all his coworkers, and said you were in the hospital.
“I need —” Eddie rasped out through frantic breaths as he greeted the front desk worker, chest rising and falling rapidly. He gave your name, at which the woman asked who he was to you, and he quickly added, “Husband. I’m her husband.”
The walk down the hall seemingly shaved years off of his life. Heart thundering away along the pale walled hallway, shoes tapping against the floor. He hadn’t had a chance to change, hair still pulled back, jumpsuit still on. Oil stained his fingers black, despite the hard scrub he’d given them before leaving for the hospital.
As he entered, his heart squeezed at the sight of you in a gown, an IV in one hand, a cuff around the other bicep, all teary eyed as he appeared in the doorway.
You’d barely managed to open your arms fully to him when he rushed forward and curled you into his arms, hand cupped around the neck to draw you into the safety of his chest, rocking you back and forth as you weeped into the fabric of his tattered jumpsuit.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Chrissy murmured, backing up out of the room, “I’m going to call Steve and Robin. They’ll want an update.”
As soon as she left, Eddie pulled back a bit and cupped your face in his hands. Brushed a kiss to either side of your cheek and rubbed at the tears that had spilled down your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re here now,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, his kiss on your lips bruising, and yet you sighed into it all the same, urging him onward. Gripped him tighter, his tee shirt hidden beneath his jumpsuit fisted in your palm. “Never again. I promise. I love you, I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry and I’m so —”
“I love you, too,” you whimpered into his neck. He pulled back, hearing the hitched breath you let out. The sob that followed. “I’m scared out of my mind, because of what you mean to me, but I’m going to be brave because this is worth it — and I love you. I wanted to tell you yesterday but —”
He kissed you again, urgent and searing. Felt you melt into his frame, arms looping around his neck, curling into the hairs at the back of his head. The heart monitor near the hospital bed spiked, and he grinned to himself against your lips, feeling your chuckles against his skin. Your sides shaking where he cupped them in his palms, the sides of his thighs pressed against yours, body leaning as much as he could over yours with the elevated bed.
“You love me?”
“Yes,” you giggled brightly, your smile splintering his heart into a million shining pieces, “I love you, you dork.”
God, he could stay like this forever. Pressed his forehead against yours, fingers laced with yours in your lap, breathing in the space between you two. Relishing in the comfort of the newness of love — basking in it. But a knock sounded at the door and Eddie was reminded of why you were here. Fear had him shifting on the bed, his mouth pressed to your knuckles as the doctor explained their course of treatment. You’d be staying under observation, medicine already ran through your IV in hopes of stopping things from progressing any further. Prognosis looked good, which had Eddie and you beside him exhaling deeply in relief. Otherwise, outside of the scare, Elena looked perfect.
He remained at your side for the next twenty four hours, only stepping away when nurses came in to check yours and Elena’s vitals every so often. Chrissy and Steve popped in to check on the both of you, offering to bring in food or a change of clothes or whatever else you needed.
Even Wayne and the kids had stepped in, running over to Eddie’s to clean up the place so that when you went home, you’d be able to get to rest.
Bed rest, that was. For the next few weeks, however long Elena decided to stay put, you were on ordered bed rest. Eddie thought your pouting adorable when the doctor had told you all the things you wouldn’t be able to do. Had held your hand when you whined about it after, not wanting to cut out of work just before the school year had ended (you’d grown fond of the kids). You’d also gone on to grumble about how you weren’t allowed any strenuous activity, head pressed against the dashboard in his car when you’d later come to realize that also included any sexual activity as well.
“It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple of weeks,” Eddie said, running a hand along your back when he pulled up in front of his house, kiss after kiss dropped against your temple. “Come on now, got to get you into bed. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’ll stay with me?”
“You’re not getting rid of me,” he promised, opening his car door and rushing around to greet you on the other side. “Except for when I have to work, but then Chrissy and Robin and the kids will be taking shifts.”
“You all really don’t have to do this,” you said, easing yourself down onto the ground, squeezing Eddie’s hand in yours. “I’ll be okay on my own for a bit.”
“I know that, but you don’t have to be. We want to help; we love you.” He laughed, coaxing you in front of him along the walkway. “Plus, you need to slow down. The doctor said so.”
Inside, Eddie watched your face light up as you walked down the hall and slipped inside his bedroom. He peeled back the comforter and tucked it around your hips once you settled down, before rushing around the other side and slipping in beside you.
His hand glided up and over your hip as you shifted to face him, along the curve of your waist, across the span of your arm, and then rested on the hinge of your jaw. Warmth seeped into his fingers, your lips soft against his when you leaned over to kiss him. As if you still couldn’t believe he was there, like you expected him to vanish, like you hadn’t fully realized he’d be yours forever if you’d let him.
And then, as your eyes started to droop in tiredness, you asked, “You love me, Eddie?”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”
The other cheek. “I love you.”
Your forehead. “I love you.”
Your chin, where you giggled. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he whispered, running his nose down the length of yours.
He’d reassure you every day if he had to, helping to heal your heart piece by piece — to prove to you that people stayed.
That people still chose love everyday and meant it.
Stay, when his father hadn’t.
Stay, when his mother hadn’t been able to.
He’d do it all just to have you here, like this.
——
Late June, Six Weeks Later…
——
“Why the pout?” Eddie asked, wandering into the living room where you were presently wrapped up in a blanket, thankful for the AC blowing frigid air into the heated home.
“I tried to go for a walk and couldn’t see my feet. I called Chrissy to see if she’d be able to help me, but then we ended up making ice cream sundaes instead.”
“Baby, you haven’t seen your feet in weeks,” Eddie said, dropping down onto the couch beside you, palm running over the hill of your midsection, still in awe as ever that he’d be meeting his daughter in just a few weeks.
“That’s mean.” You pouted.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, a gentle kiss brushed against your lips, “Also, it sounds like your day was better than mine.”
“Hardly,” you huffed out, snuggling into his side, “it’s the same as the past six weeks. I wake up, I say goodbye to you, someone comes to visit, I walk to the bathroom to pee seventy five times, I go to bed.”
“Only a little while longer now,” Eddie promised.
But he knew it had been hard. The initial days were an adjustment. For someone who’d been used to doing all the time, you’d had a hard time adjusting to being unable to do many of the things you’d done before the scare.
It helped that Micah and Jeremiah got engaged soon thereafter; gave you something to focus on, something to be excited about. After that, you enjoyed the company of the kids. Mike, El and Will would come over and play cards with you. Dustin and Suzie would bring board games, and you’d argue with Dustin when he assumed you were cheating (bedrest had just made you really good at board games). Max and Lucas checked in, back in town on a visit. Joyce and Hopper brought food. Steve and Chrissy popped in with Melody. Robin came with Vickie, always with new gifts for their new niece (no matter how often you reminded them she had enough clothes).
Soon enough, you became stir crazy. Resorted to working on puzzles, coloring in coloring books, watching your favorite movies over and over again. Walks were limited — not more than a few minutes allotted, just to make sure you didn’t overexert. That, and Eddie watched you like a hawk. Wanted to make sure you were okay at all times.
Part of you wanted to find it annoying, but it only endeared you to him further. Being in love with Eddie was easy. So easy you wondered why you’d feared it at all in the first place. He was attentive and doting, affectionate and patient, hilarity ensued and yet grave when he needed to be.
As much as you hated being stuck inside for the past six weeks, you’d loved that intimate time spent with Eddie, enjoying the fullness of your relationship before Elena’s arrival.
“Come on, let’s get in bed,” Eddie mused, climbing up off the couch, extending a hand your way.
“I need a solid cuddle,” you grumbled, hand on your lower back as he helped you up on wobbly feet. “My back is all crampy today.”
“You’re cramping?” he asked, sounding a little worried, his voice growing softer.
“It’s nothing,” you reassured him, rubbing at the place that twinged once more, “Just discomfort of being a million weeks pregnant with your restless kid.”
“Oh, so she’s my kid now?”
“She is when she stomps on my bladder like she’s at one of your metal shows,” you teased, slipping beneath the covers of the bed. “Can you believe we’re the same two people who met on Halloween?”
“Honestly?” He crawled in next to you, fingers trailing along your temple. A light kiss pressed against your lips. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Buttercup. Maybe we skipped a couple of steps along the way, but I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“I wouldn’t either.” And it was true. All the imperfections, the hurdles, the joy and laughter, the good and bad — you’d do it all again to get to this point. “I love you, Eddie.”
You said it all the time now. Randomly throughout the day, over dinner, in the morning, cleaning dishes in the afternoon. The words were still new, still so precious to you. Just as the man who held them near to his heart was.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
It was a whisper against the crown of your head as you rolled over, smiling at the familiarity of his arm slinging around your form, his chest against your back. Your anchor, for months now, as you slipped into rest.
Hours later, however, you woke to the bed feeling wet, Eddie’s hand against your shoulder, your head spinning from the pain that ached low, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the bedroom lamp being turned on abruptly.
You winced, and Eddie ghosted a kiss against your temple. “Eddie…” The searing pain followed, cutting off the rest of your statement.
“You think it’s time?” he asked, swallowing back the groan forming in the back of his throat as your fingers curled around his fingers and squeezed hard, the bones sliding together painfully. “Right — right, dumb question. Ow. Let me grab the hospital bag. You stay there, don’t move.”
It wasn’t like you wanted to anyway.
Panicking, he rushed around the room gathering your things. Tossed the hospital bag onto the bed, along with your slippers. He traded his sweats for a pair of jeans and pulled his hair back, as you slipped on a hoodie over your sleep shorts. When another pain lanced through you, you hunched over the bed a bit, gripping Eddie’s forearm as he appeared at your side.
“You have everything?” you asked through gritted teeth, straightening as the pain started to subside.
“Diaper bag, change of clothes for us, car seat…” he rambled off, coaxing you to walk down the hall, “the woman I love —”
“That was corny,” you laughed, sniffling at the tears that formed in your eyes when he opened your car door for you once outside.
His thumb brushed at your cheek. “Just trying to keep a smile on that face, Buttercup.”
As you buckled yourself in, he rushed around the back, clipping in the car seat like Steve had shown him a couple weeks ago. The hospital bag was tossed in beside it and the door shut, your eyes following his form as he darted around the vehicle and got in your front driver’s side. He still hadn’t fixed his van, so your car would be the baby mobile for a bit.
As he settled down, a kiss was dropped to your forehead and a palm cupped your cheek, those dark eyes of his searching your weary, fear-stricken face. “Ready to meet our girl?”
“I’m ready.”
——
our happiest little epilogue is next. thanks for being patient, i have been having a hard time again health wise, but you all make it less daunting. 🥹🩷
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a tornado kinktober (my first!): fright night
🎃: scare actor!johnny x scare actor f!reader
👻: misuse of fake blood and company time
—
it’s a slow night in your interactive haunted house when it happens.
you and johnny had just freaked out a group of high schoolers, picking on the most stoic one until he screamed and ran. under your makeup, you almost smiled at the sounds of his friends jeers, noting the gap between customers as you stepped back into your hiding place. instead of your foot finding the ground, it landed of johnny’s, your back colliding softly with his chest as you let out a small “oof”. he put his hands on your waist to steady you, and in a moment of pure absurdity, your hands covered his own to keep him there for a few more precious seconds.
johnny pulled you in closer, leaning in to nose at the space between your shoulder and neck. with his fake vampire teeth in, he took a pretend bite, a slight pressure on your vulnerable area of skin covered quickly by the warmth of his tongue. you let out a giggle despite yourself, hands tightening over his as you arched deeper into him. you could hear him open his mouth to say something-
the sounds of adults approaching rang out through the small hallway. he let you go easily, pinching the meat of your hip as you shuffle to the other side of the room. you locked eyes with his own, colored contacts making his signature blue purple, and nodded. the job was back on.
—
after another particularly good scare, you find yourself in his arms again. “johnny, did you hear the way she screamed!” you whisper-yelled into his ears. he grinned, flaunting those fake canines, leaning in closer despite the blood on your face. “aye, bonnie. she’ll never trust a nurse again.” that was the game you played - undead nurse and deadly doctor of an abandoned psych ward.
“i think she broke the bed frame though.” the woman had jumped on the plastic-wrapped hospital bed in the corner with an enough force for you both to hear a loud creak before she scampered off with the rest of her group. johnny hummed, making his way to the mattress as you both noted another lull in customers. he sat down fluidly, bloody doctor’s coat unbuttoned as his thick thighs tested the strength of the frame. “needs more weight, c’mere.”
you approached him in a mere four steps, standing in between his broad legs, taking in his mussed mohawk and fake blood at the corners of his mouth. wordlessly, uncharacteristic of johnny, he pulled you into him, hands finding your hips again, large fingers curving around to meet your ass. he eased you into a straddle, your scary-but-slutty nurse dress riding up so he could see a peak of your underwear. “what’s this, hen?” his fingers brushed the front of your clothed cunt, eyes taking in the words printed on your underwear: “taste me” with a candy corn image.
“i ran out of clean shorts since i covered someone else’s shift, didn’t have time for laundry.” he hummed something under his breath, scooting back into the mattress and pulling you with him. he wore thin scrubs to go with the costume, the fabric doing almost nothing to create a barrier between his clothed cock and your clothed cunt. in the background, you heard price’s voice on the PA system, something about a 15 minute break as the lights in your room stayed low, casting a shadow over johnny’s half-masked face. “she’s a needy lil thing, hm?” his thumb pressed at the wet spot of your panties, right where the candy corn image was. you bucked into him on instinct, your hands coming up to his shoulders to keep your balance.
you nodded instead of answering, fingers finding his longer middle strands and tugging impatiently. “we only have fifteen minutes.” you rolled your hips into his thumb, practically preening for him. he clucked his tongue at you, heavy-lidded eyes staring at you underneath his half-mask. “ye dinnae hav’ enough blood on you, bonnie. not scary enough.” he sat up to reach a bottle in his pocket, ignoring your whines as his movements sent a shock to your desperate cunt. he gestured at you to unscrew the bottle, your shaking fingers dipping in slowly. “where?” his eyes trailed down the buttons of your dress, then back up to your face. “use that head of yours.” your shaking fingers trailed down your dress, slippery digits unbuttoning your top button on the second try. he rewarded you by pushing down your underwear, callused fingers testing the wetness of your slit. he nodded at you to keep going so you did, unbuttoning a second button, then a third and a fourth until your dress fell off one shoulder, nipples peaking out of the cups of your bra as your chest rose and fell.
“there’s a good lass. still not bloody though.” his head dipped forward suddenly, wet mouth practically making out with your chest, teeth tugging and tonguing your left breast until it was out of the cups. his fingers finally started moving, thumb catching on your clit as he teased your slippery hole with another finger. he moved on to your other breast and you could see the mess he left behind, fake blood and spit covering your nipple, bite marks like you’d been mauled. he finally slipped in a finger, the intrusion of it making you already feel full. your other breast was exposed to the air as he leaned back, a wicked smile on his face with blood everywhere. a predator.
“dinnae waste the blood an’ i’ll give you a treat.” he worked you to a second finger, nodding at the abandoned blood on your fingers. slowly, you caressed your nipples, letting out a whine after the sensitivity of being bitten. he removed his fingers from your cunt, instead tugging your underwear aside to kiss his clothed cock, your wetness seeping into his thing scrubs. he reached for your hips again, dragging you against him as your underwear and his slacks rubbed that perfect spot, matching the zings of your overused nipples getting played with. “almost there bonnie, break’s almost up.” you reached for his mohawk and pulled him into your chest, smashing his lips to your aching nipple. “fucking shut up, johnny.” he groaned against you, teeth latching on as he rolled his hips against your own, your messy cunt getting wetter and wetter. that familiar coil of pleasure formed in your chest, spurred on as he switched to your other nipple, muttering praise in between. “s’ sweet.” he tilted his hips up a bit, latching on hard as your clit caught the perfect angle. you moaned as your orgasm finally hit, giggling as you felt johnny cum in his pants. he shushed you with another bite to your neck, eliciting a squeal as he pulled you closer in his arms.
the side exit door swung open, revealing an annoyed ghost in his butcher costume, gaz peaking over his shoulder in his zombie get up. “time’s up, lovebirds. got a show to run.” johnny kissed your shoulder in a uncharacteristically sweet move, hands reaching up to put your tits back in your bra. your intruders stared unabashedly, gaz with a sly grin and ghost with an expressionless face, watching johnny tug your underwear over your soaked cunny as you rebuttoned your dress, the fake blood everywhere on your chest. he lifted you off his lap, tugging down the hem of your costume as he adjusted the wet spot in his scrubs. “adrenaline.” he winked at gaz and you rolled your eyes, elbowing him out of the way to go stand at your spot. “cmon johnny, we got a show to run.”
—
DISCLAIMER DONT ACTUALLY DO THIS WITH FAKE BLOOD I DONT THINK ITS SAFE
#cod 141#tornadothoughts#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap imagine#soap smut#soap call of duty#soap cod#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x f!reader#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x you#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#soap#soap x reader
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Bet on it ( Bradley Bradshaw x reader ) PART THREE
Summary : it the night of the gala an awkward start til the two break the silence that leaves them going down memory lane to simplier time with the ice breaking and thawing bradley starts to realise somethings like how good his name sound coming from her lips , how beautiful she truly is and the two get closer and closer
warnings : goofy , fluffy fun , allusions to smut rooster is older than reader by like 8 or something years so aging him up in og top gun timeline
previous part
It was odd , it was awkward as hell and a silent car ride as the both went to talk,opening their mouths and yet closed a second later . going from enemies and friends wasn’t so clear cut like in the movie where they were instant besties . sure they didn’t squabble or insult each other much as before still few slip ups here and there . now she kind wish its like in the movies anything would be better than this and when she tried to kill the silence words failed her . she also felt old feeling coming to the surface which she could only hate more for the timing . she never hated him , never truly a part of her always loved the man. a drunken confession to jake after a particularly bad time between the two that night . she confided in what happened all the years ago maybe it was dramatic reaction from her side but he did truly hurt her and now she was questioning if he really knew that , something they could talk about some other time she wasn’t going to make an already awkward moment even worse . it didn’t help how good he looked not that he wasn’t hotter than the fucking sun before but rooster in three piece suit should of been a crime how good he looked and even more happy she wasn’t driving or they would be heading to a hospital instead of a hospital charity gala .
Why couldn’t he talk , He of all people having trouble speaking when all he did was talk . it was like bagman not having an ego and yet the woman currently sitting in the passenger seat of his bronco had him either silent or a blubbering mee . the same woman who made his blood pressure rising had it rising or a whole different reason . “ say something jesus anything” he cursed himself internally.
“ music” he asked quickly to which she just gave a polite nod to . “ least it was something “ he mentally wondering how it was so bad , how it was like this to the point they couldn’t even talk to each other without the rest of their friends around , tapping his finger on the wheel as he listened to the music pretending he wasn’t cringing inside then it came on the radio a song from their childhood , a regular in the hard deck .
“ you shake my nerves and your rattle my brain” that voice it wasn’t him ,
“ too much love drives a man insane” she could sing since well , he remember she and his father did but a three year old rendition of twinkle twinkle like star.
“You broke my will , but what a thrill “ he joined turning to see her smiling .
“ GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE “ they screamed before bursting into a fit of laughter ,
“ erm excuse me mini mitchell why the hell have i not heard you sing before” he asked.
“ well you hated me so i wasn’t gonna sing you a lullaby now was i “ she snorted.
“ i disliked you never hated you but i regret all that really wish i could change it all if i could we could be touring america singing jerry lee lewis” he winked.
“ as much as i love your rendition nothing will ever beat your dad’s what i’d give to hear him singing it again” she smiled softly .
“ nah what i would love is his and your version of twinkle twinkle little star , i mean you both made that a ballet” he chuckled.
“ we did rock that one , but i think our rewrite of bingo was better “ she snorted.
“ oh yeah the one where you made bingo like a twenty letter word and some numbers in there too “he mused yet playful lilt to his tone.
“ hey i was exploring art through music and i was also a toddler all words were big back then “ she mock offense .
“ hey now your taking me up wrong i am a fan and so was my dad as he was able to follow along he was your biggest fan “ .
“ and my dad is your biggest fan we lucked out on the godfather train huh ? …. Well sort of “ she grimace realizing how it came out.
“ hey your dad’s maverick i might be an orphan godchild soon with how he take risks “ he grinned was her laughter always this way and why did he wanna hear more of it .
“ my dad is maverick that man is gonna outlive us all”
the venue was bigger than she though it was bigger event than she thought . in a way it was better it meant more fund for her department , more resources, more bed.
“ im not going to get tackle when we walk in her am” he joked .
“ i mean beth might … nah you should be fine i'll tell them it was a misunderstanding or something” .
“ beth the lady i talk to cause if so i will use you as a shield” .
“ chivalry isn't dead after all” she smirked .
just as she went to get out of the car only for him to run like hell to her side opening the door even held her hand as she got out the full gentlemen treatment seemed to be on the cards as they walked in the entrance. to say he was nervous seeing the same security guard eyeing him up til she smile and shook her head signaling is all is good . the security guard made him nervous but the glare on beth face well had him standing behind y/n when the woman made her way over.
“ sweet pea blink twice if you need help “ she whispered.
“ most wonderfully divine miss beth its ok we sorted it out , bradley this is the wonderfully divine beth most skill nurse beth this is bradley bradshaw master of piano and super hornet jets” y/n stood pulling him forward and yet it wasn't the nervous it wasn’t fear of this southern woman who had a sweet nurturing smile but looks to kill , it was fact it was first time she said his name his actual name , not his callsign or surname but his name . it felt good it felt better then good it made things inside him stir and a dopey grin to form on his face . she got him up in this gala smiling like he was dopey from the snow white and the seven dwarves all because she said his name and this was not good this was not what he thought would happen so early on to the bet , he needed to and yet couldn’t squash feeling erupting inside himself that honestly made him feel shit.
Through out the night he stood taller , smiled wider everytime she introduced him to a coworker or shit he hope newer people would come in just to do it all again. Laughing and joking around with her coworkers , the pride that shouldn’t have been there yet burst out of him when they praise her on the good work , how she impacted the patients or just what an honor it was to know or see her do her thing .
“ i swear she is only doc i’ve seen that would sing along to the messed up nursery rhymes and not bat a lid and kids love her “ beth cooed as he listened to her coworkers gushing about her.
“ or trying to get people to come visit the kids she got people dressed as superhero’s last time ” marcus a fellow doctor asked.
“ hey happy patients happy doctor “ she shrugged taking a sip of her drink .
“ we should say it to your dad get the dagger squad to come” bradley clapped excitedly.
“ the staff and kids would be happy “ beth winked . “ not you i’m still on fence about you pretty boy “ .
“ hey deserved but i hope if her dad says yes i can win you over “ he batted his lashes at the woman as she tried to keep her stance .
“ what am i missing?” marcus asked.
“ well we didn’t get along for a while but now we’re cool rooster has redeemed himself tonight “ she swirled the class and yet it he suddenly felt a sting at the fact is wasn’t his name.
“ so when did you become a couple “ the man asked excitedly only for both to choke on the liquid in there mouth.
“ no no no ha no we’re just friend , buddies “ she laughed grabbing napkins
“ yeah friends what she said i mean come on girl like her with dude like me “ bradley chuckled til he seen her face drop and the hurt on it . “ i didn’t mean it like that i mean you are wow beautiful .. oh my god am i having a stroke tonight or something” he groaned.
“ i think what baby eyes is trying to say is your too good for him and if it not well it what we know”beth god he could kiss that woman if she didn’t scare the hell out of him .
“ exactly what i meant i didn’t mean i was better or hotter than you “ he stumbled stuttering over his words.
“ boy just shh not making it better.. Now take her to dance that dress is too good to be sitting here all night ” the woman hushed.
“ yes ma’am … would you wanna dance with me i think my feet work better than mouth “ he turned as she gave a little yes . now he really did hope his feet worked better than his mouth or was he going to make more of a fool of himself.
Hand on hers as she place the other on his shoulder and his other hand to her hip . gentle swaying he could do as that much it wasn’t too complicated and yet he felt his heart beating hard in his chest he was nearly expecting to see it on his shirt and then she looked up at him and his knees almost buckled . he never wanted her to look at him any other way than that , never wanted to hear rooster coming out of her mouth , then he tried to think of the past something to get his head in the game, he couldn’t lose his resolve so quick a month into the bet he needed to think of how he felt back then the way he felt when it all started . his motivation to keeping strong and yet he couldn’t the rational part of him was coming to effect and he decided one night to not think of it , one night to think of everything but enjoy the moment at hand.
As guest filtered out and some memories of her bosses she never wanted to member they stood out of the venue and chill air of night hit . when she saw bradley bradshaw at her door she didn’t think she would have one of the best nights of her life . she never thought feeling she buried so deep would break and come back in ten fold . it was crazy , borderline insane to how she felt by end of night and that was it she didn’t want the night to end , she didn’t want to say goodbye and things to go back to normal . she hated it knowing it was stupid to think this way fucking hell they just started being some what friends the last month. The shiver down her body and then she felt the warm weight of his jacket on her shoulders and his hand out to lead her back to the car . the whole timeshe willed herself to stop to think clearly to think of how he hurt her all those years ago when she felt like this first. But she couldn’t all logic and reason quashed by the beat of her heart . . she fell harder than she ever did. Pulling her up outside of her apartment she should of said goodnight leave the good to stay good in that moment .
“ you wanna come in for a drink” was all it took for another shift to happen a new direction to run it course and what she would find out the worst idea she’s ever had .
Nervous of being in a small space together , nervous of new but old feeling coming back and nervous to the doubt of everything and anything. Few beers and glasses of wine took the worry , the nerves and the caution away . relax and giddy finding a trip down memory lane filling in the spots of being apart . she told him about med school how hard and crazy it was especially giving she was youngest of her class , old boyfriends and friends . he told her of collage still a little sore spot not going to the naval academy but she wasn’t so happy with her dad for that either . then how surreal it was following in the footsteps of his dad and pete mitchell both daunting and exciting . more drink flowing as they laughed and joked around about the good side of memory lane .
“ i can’t believe we missed out on so much huh ?” she sighed sadly .
“ we really did , least we friends now right or did my stupid mouth and bad dancing scare you away?”he teased.
“ you know bad dancing and mouth aside tonight has been so fun , really i mean you haven’t fully won beth over but you have won me over bradshaw” she beamed up at him .
“ please call me bradley i like it better when you say it i mean anyone else no eww but when it’s you makes me happy when you say name “ he leaned forward she felt herself pulled like a magnetic force .
“ bradley “ she whispered and just like that all resolved went out the window and something snapped as two crashed against one another clash of teeth and tongues , hunger and adorations . stars aligning , fireworks , sunshine and fucking rainbows . a kiss and a fear of what was to come next .
A blinding light and a thumping headache . a personal jackhammer living in the confine of she sat up and the sun making it harder to open her eyes feeling around for her phone til her hand hit something that makes the hangover the least of her problems as she force her eyes open and see a sleeping rooster naked in her bed . buzzing of her phone on the floor as she dove make sure not to waking the sleeping pilot crawling out the room not ready to deal with what happened just yet as she hit the little green icon .
“ hey darling did ya have fun with chicken ?”
“ more than i should of “ she gulped .
part 4
taglist : @djs8891 @peachmartini @shanimallina87 @kawaiiskeletondragonbanana @paisleebubbles
#top gun fandom#top gun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#jake seresin#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster x you#bradley rooster x y/n#bradley rooster x reader#top gun rooster#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster top gun#rooster x y/n#hangman#jake hangman seresin#natasha trace#natasha phoenix trace#javy machado#javy coyote machado#mickey fanboy garcia#mickey garcia#reuben payback fitch#reuben fitch#robert bob floyd#robert floyd
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— PLEASE DON'T HIT (ON) ME! ౨ৎ PGW
O2O. not YET
✸ SYNOPSIS ! : in which you have your fair share of embarrassing moments. one of it being punching a guy's nose for a plushie (which you did not get at the end). but what will you do when he ended up going to the same class as you. wait, oh no! he recognised you. now you're in for one hell of a ride.
1.1k wc (not proofread)
PARK GUNWOOK HAS ALWAYS STAYED OUT OF TROUBLE GROWING UP. Despite his tough interior which often leads people to mistook him as a delinquent, Park Gunwook is far from a delinquent.
During elementary school, whenever his friends would ask him to join them after school and catch tadpoles at the creek near his house, Gunwook would run over to his mother and cry about how he felt bad for the tadpoles because they can't even grow up in a peaceful environment.
When he advanced to middle school, his friends would then persuade him to skip school and sneak over to the nearest PC room, Gunwook would pretend to be sick so he could rest in the infirmary because in his opinion, pretending to be sick is better than skipping school and play games.
High school definitely had the toughest crowd. With a bunch of boys going through puberty who are also experiencing their first loves and enemies lounging around, high school was simply hell if he was to describe it with one word.
The short freedom he had after CSAT was probably the best feeling he has ever had. To others, it is a time for them to hang out with friends after studying studiously. However to Gunwook, it was a time for him to congratulate himself for never steering himself in troubles for 18 years.
That was until you.
You are like a storm on a sunny day no one expected to come.
Gunwook's picture perfect life filled with principles and rules came crashing down when your fist landed on his face.
Never in his life has he ever expected to get punched by a girl smaller than him, and he never expected to see you around the campus and let alone be in his foreign language class.
You are like a small parasite who keeps on appearing and leeching when he least expected.
You will disappear for a period of time and appear again whenever he feels like his life is getting boring and steer up some troubles before leeching on him again.
You shake his whole world and flip it over.
Strangely though, Gunwook never minds it. From the day he saw you around the campus to this very moment— he never minds how you keep putting your nose in his businesses.
Nothing can ever make Park Gunwook hates you— except this very moment.
Multiple gasps can be heard leaving the mouths of onlookers as their widened eyes stare at the commotion that is happening in the middle.
Your chest rises up and down as you breathe heavily and glare at the woman in front of you. Your bruised fist stinging slightly as an aftermath.
The woman in front of you groans in pain and cups her left cheek which is blossoming in red, a hand print evident on top of it. "You crazy bitch. " She mutters under her breath.
"What did you just say? " You stand up straight and start walking towards her. The woman scoffs. "I said, you are one crazy bitch. "
You laugh, absurdity evident on your face as you open your mouth to fight back when a hand grabs on your collar while the other pulled on your hair.
You scream in pain, "Me, a crazy bitch? Girl you are nothing better than me! " Your hands reach out to grab on her collar and hair too as you pull on them harder than the woman.
Gunwook can't believe that this is really happening in front of him right now.
Punching him was one thing. However it didn't cause that much of a commotion since he refused to pick up a fight.
This time however, it seems like both you and the woman won't stop fighting until either one of you drop dead to the floor.
Gunwook has slways been good at resolving fights— it's the perk of being the class president for years. Male students in his class would start a fist fight over a pencil and he would be able to resolve it in only a few minutes.
But thats the thing, male students. Gunwook only knows how to stop a boy fight but a girl fight? Gunwook won't ever dare.
Next thing he knows, two security guards appear and separate the both of you from each other. Your shirt is all wrinkled and a bit torn while your hair resembles a bird's nest. Scratches litters all over your arms and Gunwook can't help but let out a sigh.
Thank goodness he didn't interfere.
The convenience store located near the Sanrio sale has never been more helpful to Gunwook as he sat you down on the chair outside of it.
A rub alcohol, an antibacterial spray, a plain bandage, and a bandage with Hey Tayo printed on top of it— what even is the differences between rub alcohol and an antibacterial spray?
"I said I'm fine. " You say and give Gunwook a forced smile. "Tell that to the scratches and gashes on you. Also, you look like a smiley potato when you smile like that. "
Your smile drops immediately and you continue to grumble about how annoying he is and the woman she fought. Gunwook nods teasingly along your words, a foolish smile on his face.
"Sure, sure. Now do you mind shutting your mouth for a bit so that I can treat the cut on your lips? " He cups both your cheeks together with one hand, squishing them and laughing at how ridiculous you look at the moment. "You look like a pufferfish. "
You swat his hand away and grumble, "Maybe if you didn't squish my cheeks together, I won't be resembling a pufferfish. "
Gunwook snickers, releasing your face from his hold before grabbing the antibacterial and gently dabs it on the cut on your lips.
You hiss at the pain and close your eyes.
Gunwook notices the pain on your face and softly rubs your hand in a comforting way. "It's gonna hurt for a bit but it gets better, trust me. "
After cleaning the wounds and scratches on your face, Gunwook reaches for the Hey Tayo bandaid and put it on a gash on your cheek.
"Open your eyes. " He says.
You slowly open your eyes and they immediately made a contact with Gunwook's— except his eyes are oddly too crinkly to you. The way his lips curved upwards making his smile lines visible also did not sit right with you.
Without another word, you reach out for your phone and open the front camera only to see a huge bandaid on your cheek with characters from Hey Tayo printed on it.
"Park Gunwook! "
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#✩ - please don't hit (on) me!#zb1 fluff#zerobaseone x reader#zb1 x reader#gunwook x reader#park gunwook x reader#zb1 scenarios#zb1 imagines#zb1 texts#zerobaseone smau
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I’ve been having some bad days, could you write something where Y/N is having a rough week and pretends she’s fine except Wanda knows her daughter and comforts her?
I just love the way you write Wanda as a mother and that she just always knows
overwhelmed
pairings: mom!wanda maximoff × fem!reader
warnings: angst, reader crying, depressed reader — i think that's all!
a/n: tysm for your request love and im so sorry for your bad days, i really hope things get better for you and if you need someone to talk you can dm me, okay? <33
Interacting with any other human being was the last thing you wanted to do today. Saying that you had a bad week was an understatement, all the bad things that could happen to you happened. And not just things around you, but also your mind didn't stop for a second. You felt so overwhelmed that anyone could see on your face how much that week was hurting you.
"This can't be happening right now." You mumble as you feel the raindrops start to fall on your head. There was still more than half the way until you arrived at the Compound, you didn't have an umbrella, much less a coat to protect yourself from the cold that would come. No one could come and get you since everyone was busy and you didn't want to disturb your mother, she had enough problems to deal with yours.
You were coming home from school after another stressful day. You've spent the last few weeks studying for an incredibly difficult test, especially in a subject you had difficulty with, and seeing that big red note made your urge to cry even more. You studied so much that you thought it was impossible for that to happen. So many nights without having slept and so many energy drinks wasted for nothing.
You were absolutely soaked when you stepped into the Compound. Your sneakers made a funny noise when you stepped on them, but the only thing you wanted to do now was take them off your feet and throw them at the person closest to you, shouting in their face. "You're going to clean this up, Little Maximoff." Tony's annoying voice says, obviously joking, but still your head hurt just hearing that you had to do something that day. Your jaw tightens and you close your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath.
"I know, Tony." You ramble, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible. You walk past him to head towards your room, feeling your eyes burn from having something else on your list of things that made your week worse than it already was.
On normal days the first thing you would do was go look for your mother in her office, but the last thing you wanted to do that day was worry her, because you knew that the moment she laid eyes on you she would know that something was wrong. And filling her with your problems would make you feel guilty for a long time, you hated making people feel sorry for you and looking like you were a baby. You just needed to calm down, didn't you?
"Fuck!" You scream when you see all your notebooks soaked, especially your sketchbook, which you spent hours and hours drawing. You drop your things on the floor and run your hands through your hair, taking a deep breath. You wished your mother was there now, she would know what to do and help you with whatever you needed to calm down, but you put that idea out of your head before you ran towards her arms.
You enter the bathroom connected to your room and take off your clothes before you catch a cold. The hot water from the shower makes your muscles finally relax after the terrible days you prayed would end. In a few seconds you no longer knew what water was or what the tears on your face were. All those things that happened in your week came together into one, and you started to feel like you were on that empty, dark hole that took you a long time to get out of. You thought that maybe the problem was you, that maybe you deserved all those bad things, from the smallest to the ones that made you cry and scream like that moment.
You didn't hear the knock on your door because your bad thoughts were so loud that it was almost impossible to even hear the shower water hitting the floor. But when Wanda entered her room after hearing no response, she felt like something was wrong at the moment. She looks at your completely wet things lying on the floor and frowns. You told your mom you didn't need a ride home from school, but apparently, you did.
"Honey, is everything okay?" When she heard the shower turning off after long minutes, she knocked on the bathroom door just to let you know she was there and see if everything was okay. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." You say in a low voice, taking a deep breath. You knew that the moment you left the bathroom, your mother would know that your bad thoughts came back again, but you also knew that she wouldn't pressure you to say anything.
You close the bathroom door quietly, finally looking into Wanda's green eyes and seeing the worry through them. She held your backpack in her hands with her face confused at you, because she wouldn't think twice to get in the car and drive to you. "I was almost here at the Compound and the rain caught me." You chuckled, trying to hide your red eyes, your cheeks and the tip of your nose with the same color as your mother's hair.
"Are you okay, love?" She asks again, her face relaxed now. You put a fake smile on your face, but still with enormous affection for your mother.
"Yeah, just a little upset that my sketchbook got ruined, but it's okay." You don't completely lie. Yes, you were upset that your drawings would now have to go in the trash, but no, nothing was okay.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Wanda says approaching you. You just throw it away, muttering 'it's okay' but she wraps her arms around you, giving you a relaxing hug. Your mother leaves a long kiss on your head, making the urge to cry increase even more. You loved all the affectionate actions that your mother gave you, it made you feel so vulnerable and light. "Come on, let's get you something to eat, shall we?" You didn't like eating when you were feeling bad like that, you felt like you were going to throw up when you put anything in your stomach because of the anxiety, but you just agreed.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice when you arrived in the kitchen which, unfortunately, was made up of a few people. You felt so overwhelmed that being in the same environment as some people made you feel even worse. The small group of Avengers on your left irritated you. The loud noises they made. The conversations. The sound of people swallowing food. The tapping of Steve's shoe on the floor. Everything irritated you. From the small scratches on the counter to the farthest lamp that blinked every one minute and two seconds. Wanda noticed that. She noticed that you were itching to keep from freaking out. That you closed your eyes tightly trying to ignore your surroundings. That she needed to do something to help. She wanted to come to you and ask what intrigued you so much. What made you take deep breaths and crack your fingers every second was curious.
"Thank you, momma." She almost didn't hear you because of your low and hoarse voice. Wanda leaves a kiss on your head as she watches your foot bouncing up and down, eating the sandwich she made.
Wanda debated in her head what she could do to make you feel better. She knew she couldn't pressure you into saying anything, but she was so worried that she would do anything to see you well again. And even if it got to the point where she had to read your mind, she couldn't. You somehow managed to block your mother from reading your thoughts and seeing what was wrong.
You place your plate in the sink, taking a deep breath. Finally you would get away from people and that feeling of anxiety would finally leave you, that's what you thought. You thought that just a few hours of lying in bed doing nothing would solve your problems, but deep down, you knew that wasn't what would happen. And, now walking towards your room, not even your plan of closing yourself under the covers would be complete, as your mother followed you with the comfortable atmosphere that she always exuded.
You lie in your bed watching your mother calmly wait for your permission to lie down next to you. You nod to her with a smile on your face. Wanda puts her arms around your body, running her hand on your back, making your body relax. You loved these moments between the two of you, you realized how important you are to her and how loved you are. "You know you can always talk to me, don't you?" She murmurs, making you lean into her even more. Your face was in the crook of her neck, hiding how your lip trembled trying to hold back your crying. "I love you so much, sweetheart."
You finally let out a sob when Wanda murmurs those words that came out of her mouth so sweetly. Her grip around you tightens as she feels tears fall onto the skin of her neck, leaving a kiss on your head. The caress on your back never stopped, reassuring you that you were safe in your mother's arms. "It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay." You hated crying out loud, but at that moment you couldn't control all those feelings that made your heart ache spilling across your face, and Wanda was there to remind you that it was okay to cry and feel that way. "I-I'm sorry."
"Honey... we never apologize because of our emotions, right? Never." Wanda pulls you to place you on her lap, making you lay your head on her chest. You start playing with the hem of your mother's shirt, sniffling as you try to think of words you could say to her. "Do you want to talk about it, детка?"
"It was just... a bad week." You murmur, snuggling even closer to Wanda, feeling her heartbeat in your ear, which made you calm down a little more. "I just- I'm just feeling so overwhelmed and... and I don't know what to do."
"Oh, baby... it's okay. We'll get through this, yeah? It's okay to feel this way and I'll help you with whatever you need, my love." She strokes your hair, making your body relax in her lap. You agree, feeling her comfortable words enter your ears and help you with the horrible thoughts. "You're so strong, honey. Remember you're not alone, okay?" You mumble something, agreeing with her. You never knew how Wanda could make you feel better with just a few words, maybe it was her magic? You never knew. But she would always be your best friend and the person who would always make you feel better again. "Thank you, momma."
You would never be able to explain how grateful you were to have your mother by your side, because there are so many people in the world who don't have that comfort, and just thinking about not having someone to help you through your episodes made you feel sick. Even if she didn't say it, you knew Wanda was afraid you'd go back to that time when the hole was deeper than it is now. You remember exactly how she cried with you when you vented to her about everything you were feeling, and how she helped you every step of the way again.
"You don't need to thank me, детка. I love you so much, okay? I will always be by your side, on whatever you need." And you knew she was telling the truth, because Wanda loves you so much. You will always be her little miracle and the most important thing in her life. She feels so proud of you, because she knows that you can get through this, that you are strong enough to get through all the challenges in your life. She believes in your ability to overcome these difficult times - because you can - and there will always be people to support and walk alongside you, because you'll never be alone.
#avengers imagine#marvel cinematic universe#marvel imagine#mcu imagine#wanda marvel#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff#wandavision#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x daughter!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff angst#wanda mcu#wanda maximoff oneshot
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fuck yourself good for me - jennie kim
genre; smut
pairing; jennie x female reader
content; phone sex, dirty talking, masturbation, mentions of toys, implications of a toxic relationship,
words; 2.5k
You added a small splash of tequila into your glass, dropping in another piece of ice into the golden brown liquid. You busied your other hand with calling Jennie and putting it on speaker. She didn’t make you wait and picked up on the first signal.
“Jennie…”
Jennie shuddered at the way you purred her name on the other end, biting her tongue as she needed to gather her thoughts because she knew how you liked to avert the conversations. She had things she wanted to ask, she needed answers and she would have to figure out if you were lying or not. You always had a thing for lying.
“Who were you talking to?” It was always the same and nothing ever changed between you two. Your and her love didn’t come with any soft apologies, it didn’t come with talking it out. Whenever you and her tried to talk something out it ended up with fights and nothing else. You two didn’t know how to talk about certain things, you knew how to scream until the words would no longer make sense. It usually only made everything worse. It was easier to not talk those things out at all, it was easier to ignore them and pretend it never happened.
“It’s a secret.” You simply answered, slipping the straps of the mini dress off your shoulders slowly as you continued to talk to Jennie.
She frowned at your words while toying with the duvet. You clearly knew how to get on her nerves and she knew that you were doing it on purpose right now and yet it still worked. Jennie heaved a sigh to control her anger because she knew how to do it. She wished that she was right there with you because that made things easier than doing it over the phone.
“I’m serious, who were you talking to? You’ve been drinking too.” Jennie asked again, her tone being that serious yet soft tone that always coaxed you.
You didn’t want her to hang up on you or get angry with you because you were good at ruining certain moments. She’s told you that before. How you ruined things. You tried to change but things always fell apart for you and it was infuriating how you always had to watch your world crumble to pieces and the only person at fault was you.
“Jae-hyuk called me… and I was attending a dinner so I had my fair share of alcohol.” You decided to leave the party out of the conversation because she didn’t like you going to those.
Jennie’s ears perked up at the soft thud that followed right after. “What’re you doing?” She swallowed, waiting as you giggled softly.
“Undressing…”
“What did you wear out?”
You gave her a different answer to the question as you grabbed the crystal glass with tequila and the phone. “I feel like what I am wearing right now would cater to you much better.” You licked your lips as the alcohol and desires lingered on them. Feeling the heat spread through your whole body while you walked to the bed, forgetting everything else. You slumped onto the mattress and pushed yourself up into the middle of the bed, the only thing missing was Jennie on top or under you.
Lifting yourself on one elbow you let your phone rest beside you, holding the cold glass in your other hand. Water droplets were gathered around the glass as you brought it over to your stomach, watching as you got goosebumps on your skin from the cold when you touched your skin with the edge of the bottom. The cold made you suck in your stomach while you waited for the person you always found yourself waiting for. The one your whole world revolved around because you made it revolve around her.
“Y/n…” Jennie tried to stay on track, knowing that you were trying to direct the conversation to your wants and needs. To the things that worked out between you two. It was able to make her want the same things either way because nothing stayed on track with you.
“I miss you, I miss how you fuck me…how good you make me feel, the way you work your tongue on my pussy and make my legs shake. You know what more I miss?” You closed your eyes, trailing the glass over your stomach as you listened to her heaving breaths, knowing you were able to make her chest heave in seconds. The glass left a wet trail of cold water on your hot stomach, your body heating up more.
“What?” You smiled at her barely there tone, hearing how she shuffled on the other end.
“The way you arch your back whenever I bury my face in your pussy Jennie, how you cry out my name and ride my face…” More shuffling came from her end and you could imagine the way her thighs were squeezing right now and how she was contemplating whether or not she should sneak her hand between her legs or not. If she should play with her clit, her puffy pussy lips while she listened to you talk. Smear that slick all over her fingers before pushing them inside herself.
These were some of the conversations that always went perfectly, the ones that made you both feel good and grow stronger desires for each other.
“I would let you fuck me in all the ways you want. Choke me, tie me up, push me until you break all my limits…I’d do everything you ask for and then fuck you just as good.” Jennie was unsure what to say as her fingers were running over her inner thighs, inching close to where it had started to throb. Her fingers ran over the wetness that had already gathered at her inner thighs from how they had been rubbing together.
“Everything?” Jennie asked, taking in a breath at all the ways she was thinking of taking you the next time you two would be alone. All the ways you would then fuck her just as good. How she would bury her face between your thighs and eat you out until you wouldn't be able to take more, her tongue would work for hours, flicking and sucking at your swollen clit. Her chest heaved more and more with each thought and second.
You hummed, your voice dripping with what was nothing more than something that seduced the second it reached the ears. “I want to feel it all, fingers, mouth, strap, I want it fast, I want it rough and deep, I want to be brought to the edge multiple times…all of it. My body is all yours.”
You bit your lower lip at the muffled whimper coming from Jennie, thinking of where her hand was right now, making you plant the cold glass right above your navel to try and cool down. You’d let her do whatever she pleased with you because you loved it and so did she. You were at her mercy until you no longer were. The way she would destroy you in the best ways possible in bed.
You knew that you managed to have Jennie get lost in your words though as her breaths were heavier, her whimpers were faint and muffled, hearing the shuffling of her sheets.
“I will be eating you out for hours, Y/n…fuck you with a strap from behind, you’re gonna feel that toy so deep inside you that you will be screaming for more as I stretch your pussy- fuck. I will be playing with your pussy until it hurts and your legs can't stop shaking.” Jennie’s tone was laced with wants and needs, small whines and whimpers falling around the sentence as her voice was breathy.
Her words brought your mind to the ways she had fucked you before, to the ways she would fuck you the next time. Letting you know that she would give you what you love and need like always. She always got through even after everything by simply giving you the right kind of love.
“I want to watch you ride it- you’re so fucking hot when you ride.” From the way her voice was changing, Jennie was fucking herself while you refrained because you wanted to wait for her to come and fuck you. You could only imagine how her fingers were working on her swollen and slick clit, the way she would play with her puffy lips and smear her wetness everywhere until she would orgasm. It was making you rub your thighs together.
“I love it when you watch me,” You sighed a hum, all those heated moments of deep passion swirling in your mind. How she would admire, hold you, and tell you all those words that left you wanting more. She’d get off from watching you and you were her sex symbol.
“Y/n, I want-” Her breath hitched and you finally turned to lay on your stomach, crossing your legs to ease the tension. Your fingers traced the rim of the glass as you took the phone, putting it to your ear instead, to hear all the sounds she was making better. The shuffling of sheets and her whimpering moans fill your ears.
“You want what, Jennie?” You asked, she hummed. “I want you,” She failed to hold back the moan that followed and you picked up the glass, thinking about how she wanted you.
“What’re you wearing?” Her voice cut through your thoughts, taking you back to what you two were doing.
Jennie’s voice was needy, desperately wanting to know what you were wearing to imagine you better as she already knew your body by every inch so it wasn’t hard to imagine.
“Black lace.” You said as you were in only the black lace lingerie you had under the dress, knowing that Jennie got off of you even more in certain colours. Black was one of them and lace made her fuck you into a mattress until you were crying for more while also not being able to take more.
“Can you see-” You cut her off, knowing what she wanted to know, knowing exactly what she loved.
“Yeah, you can see everything through the lace.” You confirmed for her and she let out an almost strained whine.
“Can you turn on your camera?” Jennie didn’t want anything else right this moment than to see you and what you had on with her own eyes, her hand still between her thighs. Her palm pressed against her clit with her fingers deep inside her throbbing and clenching walls. If only she got to see you she knew she would climax within the next few seconds.
“If you say please.” You teased, knowing she wasn’t one to plead during sex. It was too humiliating for her, but Jennie had been breaking her own rules and going against her morals ever since she got a taste of the sins you provided her with.
Jennie wanted nothing more than to take part in all the sinful things you did and never begged for forgiveness. The thrill it made her feel, to be with you, to be in your presence and then behind closed doors have her ways with you.
“Can you turn on your camera, please?” She pleaded, going against all her beliefs because you were her religion at times like these. A breathless chuckle left your parted lips, but you had better plans than giving into her pleading.
“If you want to see me you will have to do it in person, baby.”
“Y/n- please, just- fuck- please I want to see you…I’m so close, baby, please.” You smiled at her words, hearing how much she needed you right now. Jennie begging you for something so simple as turning on your camera to see your body while fucking herself. It was how much she needed you to get the most out of her orgasm.
“Love you, Jennie, fuck yourself good for me.” You bid your goodbye, hanging up on her and dropping your phone as you drank the rest of the tequila, finishing it. Too tired to do anything about the throbbing between your legs you crawled over to the pillows, placing the glass down and getting under the covers. You grabbed one of the two shams before taking aim and throwing it at the light switch across the room. The chandelier turned off and your warm body got engulfed by the cold covers as you closed your eyes, everything spinning with Jennie’s voice echoing around the spinning mess.
Jennie clenched her jaw as the line went dead, letting her phone drop to the side as she kept on thinking about you. Her fingers coated in her sticky mess pulled out of her throbbing hole and moved up to work on her throbbing clit unable to stop her hips from bucking into her hand from how good it felt as she imagined it being your hand right between her thighs.
Her sopping pussy turned her sheets into a mess, you always managed to do that. The control of her sounds flew out the window as she let out a series of moans her back arched with her legs trembling, reaching the peak. Your name flew out as a cry of pleasure as the heat washed over her with her other hand gripping onto her pillow for support.
She jerked at her touch, whimpering before she removed her hand from her pussy that was throbbing from aftershocks. Jennie took a deep breath, trying to collect herself as she panted, the heat being too much as she kicked the duvet off herself with her body slumping after.
Jennie thought for a second although there wasn’t much to think about as she reached for her phone after wiping her hand on the tee she had on that was ruined with her juices either way. She licked her dry lips as she would get up to clean her mess in a second and drink water. You always got what you wanted and she was left without any answers to all the questions that she had. She got lost so quickly in the moment that she didn’t even have time to realise and by the time she would be collected you were gone. She couldn't ask you what you had been doing for the past few days or who you had been with after the fight.
With a few words you managed to make her fantasize about so many things, you managed to say so much in just a few sentences and Jennie’s heart was still pounding as she was catching her breath. The only light in the room was from her phone’s screen. Jennie still wanted to know what you had been doing while she hadn’t been talking with you. She knew that she would never find that out through a phone call.
It was close to 2 am when she texted her manager about flights to you.
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SCREAMS IF U DONT TELL ME MORE ABOUT DRACULA TOJI EXPERMENTING ON YOU-
😳😳
cw. vampire toji x afab reader, dracula au, noncon, experimentation, blood, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, predator/prey, size difference, yan toji, you are compelled by him. divider creds: cafekitsune.
Okay, I just think that Count Toji must be tired of living in his castle, bored of having spent centuries in this land where he only goes out hunting at night to survive and watch others live their lives under the hot and threatening sun.
Curiosity would lead him to set his eyes on the girl who occasionally walks around his castle, Toji is not interested in her social class or status; all he wants from her is the taste and ecstasy that her young blood can give him. He often sees her stop in the distance and admire how majestic the building is, so tall and imposing.
Toji believes that she managed to notice his presence once. Standing in front of the second floor window, as the sun set and he turned his back to the shadows. When their gazes met, it was then that he realized that the pleasures and memories of his human life still lingered there hidden under the clothes of the elegant lord he pretends to be, he wanted her, he wanted her on his property, he wanted her holding his hand and carrying his seed inside her.
With this idea in mind, he waited and counted the days until she would pass by his castle again; he waited and waited until, during twilight, he saw her walking slowly up the clear, flower-filled hill.
The dense flakes of black clouds hid the sun that day as if someone was conspiring on his behalf, so he took the opportunity to approach her, cautiously, making sure his movements would not frighten her, though nothing could make his dead heart beat faster than the sight of her running down the hill as she flees from an inevitable outcome.
Toji blamed her smile. If she hadn't smiled at him in that open, friendly way, as if inviting him to take her right there and then, he might have let her slip away. After all, it was not yet dark and anyone could catch him in the act; however, the way her heart was beating, hidden under her corset-tight ribs, and her nervous, choppy breathing, with her chest rising and falling, had never made him feel so alive as he did at that moment.
She doesn't remember how long it's been or how she got there, sometimes she thinks all she knows is that castle and her master. There are gaps in her memory about the family she lost one day and who she was before; all she remembers are the Count's words: “This is your home now.”
She serves him. She dresses for him. And she allows him, for some reason, to take anything he wants from her including her blood. Whenever he asks she goes to the back room, perfectly decorated with a bed with red silk sheets and sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling. Toji strips her of her clothes and she offers him her previously injured and fang-marked left arm, he feeds sometimes until she faints and loses consciousness. Other times, he calls her to breed her.
Toji is obsessed with the idea of getting her pregnant. One night, he told her how he wants to have children, how he wants to procreate, and that is the only reason she is there, not to serve him dinner or clean his floors; she is there to accept his cum every night and every time he wants to give it to her.
Toji has tried it so many ways, with her on top, underneath, beside him. His fangs are in every inch of her skin, marking her as his, and he keeps trying, wishing that at some point she might give him an heir for eternity so he won't be alone.
So far, though, none of that has worked.
There are days when she wakes up lucid and fear creeps through her veins, making her get out of bed in the middle of the night and run downstairs, screaming in terror. She doesn't remember how many times it has happened, she only knows that he finds her opening the front door and pushes her from behind crushing her against the old wood.
"Where are you going?" he growls annoyed against her ear, his breath hitching.
"Please, my lord; let me go."
Toji is quiet for a moment, perhaps weighing the decision?
"Let's make a deal. I will open the door and you will run as fast as your little legs will allow. If you can catch a moonbeam, I'll let you go.”
The castle is gigantic, she thinks. It will be a moment before she can step out of the shadows of it and reach the light.
"What if I don't make it?" her tear-filled eyes close for a moment and the tears fall.
The Count laughs softly, grinding his hips against her lower back showing her how hard what is about to happen makes him.
"You don't want to find out and ruin the surprise, do you?"
Toji flings open the door and she almost falls to the floor. Her hands touch the ground and she gets up in a hurry to get away from the castle, running as far as she can. Grass brushes against her feet, pebbles cut into the soles of her feet and her dress gets tangled between her thighs, but she keeps going without stopping. She looks back and sees him in his sleeping clothes from the doorway mimicking being a man, wrapped in darkness from his home with jet hair covering his eyes. And with red eyes and sharp fangs, she finally sees him for what he is.
A monster.
She looks ahead, screaming from the depths of her lungs for help. She thinks of her family, of her mother, and picks up the hem of her dress with one hand to run faster. The moonlight seems so close that she thinks she can reach it, but it all becomes a distant dream again the moment a sharp sound tears the air; like the cry of a wounded animal, and her body falls to the ground. Her palms bleed and she screams in pain, in rage, in fear.
"Please!"
"I've got you. Let's go back home."
notes. i believe faithfully that he does this kind of experiments with you. he spreads your pussy with his fingers, pushes his cum inside, maybe hm fucks you in the ass all this to see your reaction. he is addicted to the way you respond to pleasure, to pain, that he wants to know everything about you. how much would your body resist before breaking, how much he should do to make you pregnant.
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