#put in in anything you can taste it and quite frankly it ruins the drink

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 7 | Words: 5k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Astarion didn't often indulge in drinking. Not in a partying manner at least. He was more of a sip it alone in his room with a good book kind of guy. He drank at Cazador's parties, at taverns, but he didn't look to get drunk for the sake of being drunk.

Liquor didn't taste as good as blood anyway. Didn't make him as happy as Tar'eons neck did.

Oh, maybe it was going to his head a bit, but he was thinking very intently on that neck right now. He glanced around at the party, watching them all laugh and cheer and celebrate the victory they had no part in. Though, maybe it wasn't victory they were drinking to, but more so the freedom they now had to continue on their way without goblins on their tails.

None of them had a clue that one of their own had been slayed in their camp. How naive, to think them saviours...

Astarion wasn't a hero. Shadowheart quite literally worshipped the Lady of Loss. Karlach was hellbent on revenge, despite her cheery attitude. Wyll was in a contract with a literal devil. Lae'zel would have little to no qualms killing the tieflings where they stood if she was instructed to.

It was frankly embarrassing, toasting them as heroes. Even Tar'eon, as good of a soul as he was, hid a darkness that had gotten out and killed a defenceless girl while they slept.

None of them were heroes.

Ah. The shit booze were just ruining his mood at this point. He should put the bottle down. Tar'eon was approaching, Astarion noticed, and he watched, waiting for him to speak.

"Astarion." Tar'eon greeted, awash in the lights of lanterns. Astarion took another sip from his bottle and hummed, his eyes focused on the man.

"Hello, our sweet, daring hero." He greeted with a small smirk.

"Enjoying yourself? I'm afraid I'm not much for parties myself." Tar'eon admitted, obviously noticing Astarion's anti-social presence.

"Oh no, I love a good party, it's just..." Astarion waved a hand, gesturing to the tieflings around them. "You know, I never pictured myself as a hero." He admitted, a slip of the tongue, but he'd blame it on the wine later.

"Never thought I'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I'm here..." He took another swig and scrunched up his face. "I hate it. This is awful."

Tar'eon quirked a brow and huffed a small sound of amusement, arms crossed over his chest.

"It's not that bad. Think of all the goblins you killed." Oh, he knew him so well. Drats. He couldn't even pout without the man having just the right thing to say.

"True. That was fun." He relinquished. "Still. I would have liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine." He looked at the label with disapproval. It wasn't anything like the fine wine in Baldurs Gate.

Tar'eon tilted his head and took the bottle from him, the vampires brows jumping up in response as he watched the man drink. His eyes travelled over the bob of his throat and hummed to himself. Tar'eon screwed up his face at the taste, obviously not much for alcohol himself as he passed the bottle back.

"See what I mean? Awful." Astarion leaned back in his stance and looked around idly before his gaze found Tar'eons face once more. "All I want it a little fun. Is that too much to ask?"

"And what's your idea of 'a little fun'?" Tar'eon looked almost suspicious, like Astarion was going to say murder. Which...yes, would be fun, to a degree, but he could think of a much nicer way to end the party. It was time to seal the deal, so to speak, with his favourite devil.

"By the Hells- Sex, my dear. A night of passion..." He alluded, looking at Tar'eon who still had his arms crossed, waiting for Astarion to continue.

Fine. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Let's wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep...we'll find each other." He offered, sure Tar'eon would agree. The longer he stared at him though, the more anxious he got about his answer. Hells, was he actually going to reject him? After all his efforts?

He'd rather stake himself than face that embarrassment. He'd never been rejected before, not from memory. He was the rejector, not the rejectee.

Astarion stood straighter when Tar'eon stepped closer, his head dipped low. He could feel the tickle of soft strands against his cheek, the brush of his lips against his pointed ear, almost pulling away on instinct. His stomach curled with heat as Tar'eons hand found his hip, his fingers trailing along his waistband. Oh dear. Was he some kind of exhibitionist? He could be persuaded down the line, perhaps, but he was pretty sure he saw that Mol child just across the way, and he wasn't sure how he felt about tarnishing the innocence of that dreary child.

"Ah, you're...quite bold, aren't you?" He chuckled, hoping the nervousness he felt wasn't as obvious to the man as it was to himself.

Tar'eons hand fell away, and Astarion spotted a small frown out of the corner of his eye. Shit, he'd said the wrong thing.

"Meet me in the woods later. I have something to ask of you, without prying ears." Tar'eon pulled out of his space and Astarion almost went to follow him, missing his warmth.

"Ah, yes, I...I will see you there." Astarion offered a curt smile, hoping that was enough.

"Until then. I'll see you later."

"Indeed you will, my love." Astarion quipped the new pet name on, testing it on his tongue. He honestly couldn't tell if he'd been rejected or not, but he was leaning towards not. Hopefully. "Indeed you will."

Tar'eon smiled at him, expression soft but eyes a million miles away as he bowed his head to him and walked away to join the others once more.

Astarion sat on a cushion and drank. Awful or not, there were still hours until things would quiet down, and he didn't want another soul to speak to him while he mentally prepared himself for the fruition of his games.

He was starting to wonder though, if he was the one being played, and not the other way around.

****

Astarion rested his back against the tree, taking in slow, deep breaths as he waited, listening out for Tar'eons familiar footsteps.

Soon, he'd be on his back for the thousandth time, doing something he'd done so many times before, with people he couldn't even remember the faces of, and he was nervous. For Gods sake, nervous?

He'd made the offer, had even been...a little excited, earlier in the day at the very idea. He knew the end goal of this all. He wasn't stupid, he knew he had to do this, it was the only way he knew how to procure favour from another. He refused to be beneath the others in the camp. He'd been favoured by Cazador, and he would be favoured here too. At least here, there was no torture to dread.

Yet still, his stomach felt uneasy. Tar'eon might not even want him. His response had been so vague, it was impossible to tell if he wanted to talk feelings or fuck. Astarion could fake both, but he'd rather just avoid feelings if given the option between the two.

He would not tie himself down to whatever mess Tar'eon had going. If he wanted to be a hero, he could be a hero, but once this parasite was under control, Astarion was gone. He'd be free of Cazador, free of everyone and everything, and he could-

He could...do something. He wasn't sure what yet, but whatever he did with his freedom would be his. His life would be his again.

He wasn't going back. He wasn't losing himself to this tadpole either. He would either be free, or dead. He refused to go back to Cazador, or to become a mindflayer...He'd rather die.

Even if it meant living in the shadows again, he'd rather be free and alone, then controlled by anyone or anything again.

His head snapped up when he heard grass under boots, schooling his features to hide any anxiety he might feel. He asked for this. He had wanted it. He just hoped it was bearable. He didn't need it to be enjoyable. Just...bearable.

He took one last breath in and stepped out, allowing all tension to loosen with his exhale, smiling at Tar'eon.

"There you are. I've been waiting." He came closer to the man. He wore a night shirt that didn't appear to his, and Astarion wondered who he had nicked it off, or if he had purchased it from that tiefling who offered to help Karlach with her heart. Either way, he was overdressed, and Astarion felt rather underdressed.

"Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." How this garbage worked on people, Astarion had no clue. But it worked well on thousands, and it would work on him as well. He raised his eyes up to grace upon Tar'eons lips, unable to meet his eyes. His eyes too intense for this moment. "Waiting to have you."

He couldn't tell if the rapidly pumping heart was his own or Tar'eons. His heart shouldn't be able to do that, so it couldn't be his.

Yet it still jumped when Tar'eons fingers caressed his cheek, tilting his chin up to look at him properly. Tar'eon wasn't even focused on his eyes though. No, his gaze was roaming over his face, his thumb swiping delicately over the lines on Astarion's face that he hadn't been aware of until he mentioned it.

"...Well?" Astarion couldn't stand the silence.

"Sorry...You look like an angel in this lighting." Moonlight graced over white hair, across his brow, and when he tipped his head back just to tiniest bit, he could see the brightness of those red irises illuminated by the glow, could almost imagine those eyes were a pale blue in the past. Or perhaps a darker shade, like the ocean.

Purple. Yes. That was it. The elf would have had purple eyes, he was sure. With those white curls...he had to have been some kind of noble once upon a time. A High Elf. Maybe he wasn't of high nobility, but he was sure he would have acted like it, even back then.

Astarion grasped his wrist, those red eyes suddenly guarded.

"I don't think angels would appreciate being compared to a walking corpse." Tar'eon smiled softly and closed his eyes, shaking his head as he let go of the other.

"Perhaps not. Good thing I'm a devil then. Angels don't like me either." Tiefling blood was tainted with devils blood, so it only made sense why some people made such assumptions. Personally, he felt like he was a devil sometimes. It might have explained his urges after all.

Astarion huffed but allowed himself a step closer, almost chest to chest with the man as he tilted his head up to look at him.

"Be honest with me..." More honest than I'll ever be with you, "Do I have you, darling? For the night?"

Tar'eon looked down at him, and Astarion was getting sick of this push and pull, the anxiety of waiting for him to speak. Why couldn't he just say what he was thinking? Blurt it out like they all did? Why did he have to make Astarion wait, standing on the pins and needles of anticipation, making seconds feel like hours?

He'd felt this way before, but in a completely different sense, waiting for Cazador to decide his punishments. He'd been waiting for the blows, the agony, the cruel words.

Now he waited, tormented over answers, waiting to be touched, to be kissed - he was waiting to be desired. He hated waiting. He always had, inherently impatient from the very first memory he could recall.

"You're making this all very...difficult, the way you always hold your tongue in conversation. Just say what you want, Tar'eon. It might save us both some time." He huffed softly, trying to reign in his annoyance.

Tar'eon just smiled, his eyes sad as he smoothed a thumb over his jaw. Astarion clenched it tight, flexing the muscle. He was growing steadily more pissed by the second. He opened his mouth to snap that he was leaving if he didn't make up his mind, but Tar'eons next words caught him off guard.

"You don't have your dagger tonight." Astarion's mind went blank, completely blindsided by the mans words. That was it? That's all he had to say to him offering himself up on a platter?

"No. I don't. I almost wish I had though, because I'd stab you for stiffing me thrice in the span of a couple hours."

Tar'eon chuckled.

"I'm glad you didn't. Not tonight. But...from now on, I want you to always have it on you. In reach."

Astarion scoffed.

"Oh yes, I'll just sleep with it under my pillow like babe." He rolled his eyes. "Are you here to fuck me or not?"

"Astarion, I'm trying to be serious right now."

"And you think I'm not?"

"Just - please. Promise me you will always have it on you. And that you will not hesitate if you have to use it. Against anyone."

"You-" Astarion paused. It finally clicked. "Oh my Gods. This is about that bard girl you killed."

"Astarion-"

"Oh don't. You're not so important to me that I'd risk my own neck. If you tried to kill me, and succeeded? You'd have gotten lucky, if anything. At this rate, it'll be the only kind of lucky you ever get. This really isn't setting the mood I had intended." He gestured to his body with a huff. This was all just...unbelievable.

He crossed his arms and looked away, fuming in his own embarrassment. He was getting stiffed by this mans own guilt. Couldn't he keep that locked in a little box until they were done? He was ruining his perfect plan. Any anxiety he had had vanished in his frustrations.

"Astarion..." Tar'eons hands were hot against his frigid skin, and he barely suppressed a shiver. Hells, that did feel nice. Maybe he should just skin the man and use him like a blanket.

"What?" Fingers trailed over the ridges of his back, the scar that not even vampirism could heal. Cazador's poem. Always the poet he was. Every chance he got, he liked to compose a new sonnet on his skin. Those had been some of the worst nights, trying not to scream while his flesh was sliced into, every line a new burst of agony. He had to bite his tongue, for screaming just prolonged the pain. Mistakes had to be erased before he could continue, and Cazador always continued until the very end of his poem.

Astarion flinched away, turning back to face Tar'eon with a scowl.

"What're you doing?" Astarion was ready to hiss at the man, to make good on his promise to gut him like the first day they met, but Tar'eon stricken expression caught him by surprise. Tar'eon looked horrified.

Of course he did...Astarion was damaged goods at best. Scars ruined the pretty picture he has.

"You...where did you get that scar?"

"My old master. Cazador." Astarion bit out the name, unable to look him in the eye. "It was a gift. A poem. He considers himself quite the artist, and uses his slaves as a canvas." He gave Tar'eon a sardonic smile and turned around so he could see it in all its glory. No use hiding it. If Tar'eon wanted to pity him, he could pity all he liked. Astarion would not let himself clam up like a frightened little mouse, not in front of him. Not in front of anyone. Not anymore.

"He composed and carved that one over the course of a night...He made a lot of revisions as he went." He swallowed hard, refusing to let his emotions get the better of him. It was in the past now. Cazador couldn't reach him here.

He turned back to Tar'eon, who still looking mortified.

"Well? Does it put you off? That I've been marked by another man? I've been with many...many people, darling. Do not think me pure in the slightest. In fact, I think I'd be insulted if you did." He smirked.

"You're never seen it, have you?" Tar'eon asked, taking his shoulder gently and guiding him around, his hands smoothing over the scar, tracing certain lines, like he was trying map something out. Astarion arched away from his touch.

"No. I can't just check in a mirror, now can I? Besides, whatever it is, it doesn't change everything he did to me. There's no point in dwelling on meaningless scrawl."

"It's not a poem, Astarion." Tar'eon knew that for a fact. "It...I think it's a contract."

"What?" Astarion turned to looked at him with alarm, quick to minimise his shock. "I...Of course it is." He spat, flexing his jaw and grinding his teeth. "Just one more thing to keep me tied to him, I'm sure. But it doesn't matter now. I'm far from his reach, with this...squirming little tadpole in my head."

He huffed. A contract of all things...The others had scars on their backs too. Perhaps it was simply to bind them more eternally to him. Paranoid bastard.

"Can you...can you read it but any chance?" Tar'eon gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm afraid my Infernal reading skills aren't as good as others. Maybe it's cause of the memory loss, or I didn't grow up reading and writing it. If it were spoken, maybe I could, but the alphabet is...very hard to memorise or read if you don't grow up learning it." Tar'eon sighed. "I just recognised a few characters was all. And usually, Infernal on the skin is...the work of an actual devil."

"Oh, Cazador was a devil, alright. But he did not know Infernal. Not from my knowledge." Astarion couldn't stand to think on it any longer. "That's enough of this talk, I..." He shook his head. How had a night of passion turned into this?

"I just wanted a night of passion. And you had to go and ruin it with all this talk." If anything, he'd prefer to fuck hard and dirty right now, to forget Cazador. It felt a bad taste in his mouth when he spoke of him.

Tar'eon gave a half smile, looking guilty at the very least for ruining Astarion's plans for seduction.

"We don't have to talk anymore, if you don't want to." Tar'eon cupped his cheek, gently curling his claws fingers under his chin. Astarion looked up at him, attempting to give him the cold shoulder with his eyes, but Tar'eon just smiled. Like he could tell Astarion didn't mean it.

"What do you want, Astarion?"

"What do any of us want?" He challenged. "Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our...collective ecstasy." This, Astarion knew. He knew the ways to weave his way through these interactions. To make people want him. Perhaps the night wouldn't be a failure just yet. Perhaps tonight, he could have his own 'sweet dreams'.

"That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?" He wanted to lose himself in this. To forget. To get away from everything. Even if it meant not truly being a part of this 'night of passion'.

Tar'eon leaned down after a moment of taking in his expression, his forehead connecting gently with Astarions. His hand slipped away from his face, slipping down his throat and onto the gentle swell of his chest, claws tickling over his collarbone.

"I upset you tonight. Ignored your wishes, ruined your plans...You've done so much for me these past few days, Astarion. So much more than you could ever imagine."

Astarion swallowed, and it felt unspeakably loud in the quiet of the woods.

"Speak plainly. You're always avoiding what you really want to say."

"I'm afraid what I really want to say, wouldn't be kind to you. And you deserve that much. I want to be kind to you, if I'm going to have you tonight. You need to be okay with that."

"If you're asking for boring, vanilla sex, I'm all aboard. If it's what you want, it's what you shall get, darling." Astarion chuckled, reaching down to unlace his breeches, a playful smile on his lips. "Come now...enough talking. Wouldn't you much rather kiss and make up instead?" It was a touch mocking, but it seemed to finally make Tar'eon take initiative.

His lips were just as hot as his hands, and Astarion hummed, closing his eyes to soak up the heat. That was one perk to bedding a tiefling, he supposed. He ran hot, like a furnace, but not unbearably so like Karlach, who could quite literally burn his skin off like he was a roasting pig.

A large hand spanned across his lower back and he didn't bother holding back the small moan that slipped past his lips, pressing further into the bulk of muscle and heat. There was no use hiding his appreciation for the mans size. He quite liked that he could envelop him in all that warmth on a cool night like this.

He reached up to cup the tieflings jaw, tilting his head so they could kiss deeper, letting the desire build as his tongue snaked past his lips. His fingers graced over his pointed ear and Tar'eon gave a shiver, a soft sound escaping his lips and being devoured by Astarion who grinned. He caressed his ear, tracing along the jewellery decorating them, and Tar'eon looked at him in surprise, his eyes fluttering before he had to close them, seemingly taking a moment to compose himself.

"Seems you found one of my weak spots." He mused in a rough voice. Astarion felt a tingle run up his spine. Oh. He liked that. He sounded half ruined already.

"I'm good at that. Would you like me to find the others?" He purred, smoothing his hands down his body, slipping beneath his shirt. He could feel the stutter in his breath like this, feel the waves of heat roiling into his palms, warming his fingers that he hadn't realised were so frigid before. Tar'eon must of noticed it though, because he was shivering at every touch, but didn't tell him to stop.

He gasped softly as fingertips grazed a nipple, grabbing Astarion's wrists. The vampires brows raised, waiting to hear him out.

"I want to find yours first." His eyes stared intensely at Astarion, the shadows making him appear more beastly than he was. It was almost nice, knowing the one who looked like a beast only wanted to touch him gently.

"By all means..." Astarion presented himself on a platter, leaning back against the nearest tree and beckoning the man with his eyes. "Go ahead."

Tar'eon looked uncertain for a moment, hesitating where he stood, eyes flickering over the vampires body before he stepped forward with purpose, hands finding their place on his hips as he took his lips once more in an eager kiss. He had all the elegance of a virgin, but it was almost endearing, if Astarion was honest. He really didn't remember even those things...

He would gladly reintroduce him to those pleasures tonight.

He cupped his face and urged him to slow, to truly feel every slide of lips, every flick of a tongue, pulling low sounds from the tieflings lips. He gave a small moan of his own when he felt a thick thigh shift between his own, a pleasant pressure that reminded him of his own body's need. He nipped the tieflings lip and delighted in the hiss, licking up the sliver of blood that spilt from the split.

"Don't keep me waiting, darling," Astarion purred into his ear, gripping one horn as he rocked his hips, grinding his cock into muscle. "I'm a rather impatient lover."

He glanced down between their bodies and his breath stuttered at the bulge in the mans trousers. Not as large as a tail, thankfully, but...definitely sizeable. Foot size still very much applied, and not just to humans.

"Learn patience then." Tar'eon murmured, seemingly more distracted by the length of Astarion's neck than their cocks, his canines grazing over the pale flesh before Astarion gave a breathless laugh, rolling his hips.

"Only one of us is allowed to bite, dear. Do keep your teeth to yourself, lover." He flinched instinctively when Tar'eon pinned his hips to the tree, not having enough time for a rebuttal for the rude interruption to his pleasure before the tiefling was on his knees.

Oh. Now that was a change of pace. When was the last time he got his cock sucked? Ten- no, fifteen years ago, perhaps? Now that woman, she had been quite the generous lover, that was for sure. Did she tie him up and threaten to castrate him in the heat of the moment? Sure, but she did suck his dick, so really, he could look past that part.

Astarion went to help, happy to undo his own breeches, but Tar'eon waved his hand away, unlacing them with nibble fingers instead. The fingers of a musician had perks, it seemed. Astarion allowed himself to be undressed, watching the tiefling with half mast eyes, quite liking the picture before him. He inhaled sharply as Tar'eon took his cock in hand, almost engulfing it, which was a little embarrassing. He was a very adequate size, thank you, the tiefling was simply giant all over.

Said giant tiefling was simply holding him now, staring at his cock. He waited a couple more moments before he cleared his throat.

"Something tells me you haven't done this before..." He began, delicate about the matter. "Should I be worried for my manhood? Considering all those teeth." He chuckled.

Tar'eon looked up at him, and Astarion felt a strong stir in his loins, making his cock twitch. Those eyes were becoming a lot less terrifying with time, and much more attractive to be pinned down by.

"Don't worry. I apparently prefer hands." He drawled and Astarion bit back a laugh. Really? Gallows humour right now? Awful. Delightful too.

"Just get to it before I get bored and go right to main course." Astarion grinned, fangs on display. Tar'eons eyes only grew more intense as he stroked him, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out, mindful of his canines as he brought the vampire into his mouth.

Astarion had to take a moment to compose himself when that hot mouth enveloped his cock, an appreciative sound slipping out, the tiefling seemingly taking his jest as a challenge. He leaned back into the tree with a moan, tilting his hips forward to get as much of himself as he could into the willing mouth, always greedy for life's pleasures.

"Fuck," His eyes slipped shut at the first suck, biting his lip to keep himself under control as Tar'eon swallowed him down with seemingly no effort, clawed nails pressing into the flesh of his hips. Tar'eon worked his tongue over the length, watching Astarion as he bobbed his head, the fingers wrapped around his horn a gentle presence.

Then, they gripped tighter, and he groaned, letting it vibrate through them both as Astarion moaned in tandem. His voice was - beautiful. All of him was. Even the prickly parts, the hungry parts, the coldest parts of his heart...

It was all so beautiful to him.

He wanted to protect him. To make him feel good. To ease all that hurt, that anger...He had every right to be hurt, to be angry, but Tar'eon didn't want him to spend his life like that. Not when he had so much time ahead of him to truly live now.

Astarion's breathing was getting heavier now, slowly turning into a pant as Tar'eon sucked and stroked, kissing the very tip sweetly whenever Astarion felt he was getting close. It was becoming maddening, trying to figure out if it had been minutes or hours, his cock throbbing with every squeeze, every lick. He was starting to wonder if Tar'eon was torturing him on purpose.

"Fucking- Hells, are you going to let me cum soon or are you saving it for a special occasion?" His chest was rising and falling with heavy, shaky breaths, his self control on the brink of spiralling into nothingness.

"Let you?" Tar'eon quirked a brow. "If you want to cum, then cum."

Heat burned across his face, not realising he'd been the only one holding himself back until now. Though, hearing Tar'eon telling him to cum in that low voice of his...really helped the process.

Tar'eon pumped his cock, kissing the base near lovingly as he egged on Astarion's orgasm, his own cock throbbing in his pants. His tail gave a side to side flick at Astarions groan, the vampires head tipped back in ecstasy as he finally came. Tar'eons lip split into a wide smile, noting the grip the vampire had on the tree, on his horn, like he couldn't stand up straight without the support.

He got up off his knees, ignoring the quiet pop in them as he slotted himself into Astarions space, using his own body to keep him upright.

"Are you still up for the 'main course'?" He mused, and chuckled when Astarion gave a scoff, shuffling his legs apart and slipping his arms around his neck.

"Don't act like you're not just as hungry as I am. I can feel how much you want me, darling." With a small hop, Tar'eon had an armful of Astarion, and found himself grinning. He felt...lighter, for the first time in weeks. All those urges...its like they were shooed away by Astarions presence. He didn't know how long it would last but...

He wanted to keep him close regardless.

"Are you intending to eat me, Astar?"

"All up." The vampire gave a devious smile, eyes full of mischief, and Tar'eon chuckled, moving them both to the grass, happily laying back as the man took to his throat happily. The initiate bite hurt something fierce every time, but then it trickled away into pleasure, feeling his cold lips against his lip, his tongue laving at the wound. It felt like being kissed on the neck with a sharp sting always following.

But it was easier to drown out as his hands roamed Astarions body, divulging them both of their clothes so they could finally lay together, every inch of their bodies melding together. Tar'eon would be satisfied to just hold him like this, both bare, his lips on his neck.

"Don't stop now...Touch me some more." Astarion whispered in his ear, enticing him as his fangs grazing over the sensitive skin. Every spot on his body felt like a sensitive spot, wherever he touched burned in ways Tar'eon had never known.

"Whatever you want, you'll have." Tar'eon promised, not sure if he was just talking about sex anymore.

He was pretty sure he was losing himself to more than just dark urges.

He was losing himself to Astarion too.

[nincompoopydoo]

LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

Tilt

Bloom smiled as a butler offered her a crystal glass filled with, what she assumed was, very expensive champagne. She nodded gratefully as she took a sip, and then promptly had to physically stop herself from spitting it right back out. Either the champagne wasn’t as good as she expected or officials of Isis simply decided to serve something from the supermarket, while hoping that no one would notice. Then again, Bloom mused, it might just be that my taste buds are so used to the $10 wine so everything fancier just tastes like crap.

She shook her head and crossed her arms underneath the bustier of her skintone, off the shoulder gown with baby blue flowers scattered across the top and sporadically across the skirt as well. The nude color made her appear more tan than she actually was and while the dress was indeed very beautiful, it was just as uncomfortable. Bloom winced as shifting weight from one stiletto clad foot to another sent white hot signal of pain when one of the wires supporting her bustier stabbed her in the ribs. She bit the inside of her cheek to in order to stop herself from simply burning the fabric.

A cheerful laugh of her best friend snapped her out of her trance. Stella emerged from the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, her asymmetrical off shoulder gown highlighting every curve on her body perfectly. Long purple sleeve blended with yellow in a way Bloom didn’t even deem possible considering how different two colors are. Her other arm, that was completely sleeveless, sported some golden jewelry and floor length gown swept the floor elegantly with Stella’s every step. She was holding the same glass, filled with same champagne as Bloom, with her well manicured fingers. As soon as Stella was within arm’s reach, she grabbed Bloom’s elbow and leaned close to her, smile completely disappeared from her face.

“This stuff is absolutely disgusting.” Stella spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh really?” Bloom asked as smirk slowly rose on her lips. “And here I thought you preferred this,” she lifted a fancy glass into the air, “over my cheap wine.”

“Anything is better than this, for the lack of a better word, crap.” Stella scoffed. “This would’ve never happened on Solaria.” She tilted the glass once again to take a sip in hope it somehow started tasting better but ended up disappointed. Bloom almost laughed at Stella’s expression. “But then again, should I have expected anything more from a planet Diaspro came from?”

Bloom almost winced at the mention of a woman that had the ability to mess up her relationship with Sky like no other. The latest stunt she pulled, thanks to Valtor, only made Bloom more angry at everybody that turned a blind eye to her actions simply because she is a princess. It was only then that the thought occurred to her, that Diaspro might be here and that she might ruin their mission. She glanced nervously around the hall, panicking more the longer she couldn’t find her.

Stella, recognizing Bloom’s ‘two breaths away from having a panic attack' look on her face, was quick to put a calming hand on her shoulder. Bloom recoiled slightly but Stella gripped the flesh lightly in order to ground her. She leaned closer to whisper in Bloom’s ear. “Relax, she’s not here. Apparently her parents don’t allow her to go to events where his highness, prince Sky of Eraklyon, might be present.”

Sarcasm was obvious in Stella’s voice but it served the purpose of calming Bloom to the point where she actually start thinking lucidly again.

Bloom took a deep breath as her shoulders slouched slightly forward. “Thank you.” She whispered to Stella. Then, the actual sentences Stella was saying caught up to her and her eyebrows touched her hairline in obvious amusement. “Still angry at Sky I see?”

Stella snorted and wrinkled her nose at the mention of Sky’s name. “If you were smarter, you’d be angry too.”

“Hey!” Bloom yelped angrily but settled down quickly as she looked away. “I am angry at him.”

“Apparently not enough.” Stella gripped the glass so hard her knuckles turned white. “I mean, what’s up with him suddenly becoming a poster boy and actually listening to what his daddy says?”

“Well, technically, Sky’s meeting with Diaspro or her parents might cause interplanetary scandal between Eraklyon and Isis.” Bloom spoke in Techna's voice.

Stella’s lip twitched. “Still, interplanetary scandal or a potential threat of one never actually stopped him from going against orders before. So my question still remains.”

“Any sign of Valtor?” Bloom asked, hoping to divert the route of conversation.

“I just spoke to Techna. He hasn’t been detected and Amplificarum is still safely locked in the vault.”

“He’ll show up eventually.” Bloom nodded absentmindedly. “He always does.”

“See this, this right here,” Stella pointed to the marble floor and Bloom lowered her gaze to the direction her finger was indicating but furrowed her brows when she found nothing. “This is why Sky should be here.” Bloom’s lips shaped into a thin line whe she realized what she was talking about as Stella continued to rant. “Isn’t he concerned that Valtor might attack and something might happen to you?”

Bloom gasped. “I’m not some… damsel in distress that needs saving Stella!” She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

“C’mon Bloom, don’t give me that.”

“Well what do you want me to say Stell? That I’m angry? Disappointed? Fine. I’m disappointed that Sky chose to follow the order from his father when I wanted him to come with me. He most certainly could've found another solution but he did nothing. Instead he left me to face, potentially Diaspro and Valtor alone. There! Was that enough? Are you happy now?” Bloom’s cheeks were red by the time she finished her rant as her chest continued rising up and down in order to return much needed oxygen into her lungs, her exhaustion more due to stress than the actual rant.

Stella smiled and patted Bloom on the shoulder. “There you go. Now was that so hard to say?”

“What?”

“Nevermind that, anyway, be sure to tell him that next time, ok?”

Bloom rolled her eyes but a smile threatened to spread on her face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm, that’s why you love me so much.” Stella spoke with an obvious pride evident in her voice.

“Yeah, let’s just say you’re lucky I do.” Bloom shook her head and grabbed Stella’s elbow as she spotted a familiar short brown hair emerging from the crowd. “There’s Brandon.” She turned to Stella and pointed to where she saw him. “Go bother him for a while.”

Stella pouted and stuck her tongue out playfully at Bloom but strutted off towards her boyfriend, leaving Bloom alone.

With Stella gone, all of Bloom’s physical discomfort came rushing back and hitting her like a rogue train. Her feet ached, her head started hurting from the tight updo and she was pretty sure the wire that poked her in the ribs has punctured her skin. She felt the tender area with her opposite hand as much as she dared and exhaled short puff of air when she found nothing. She wanted to sit down or maybe even lay down and then not move for a few days.

She shook her head and took a sip of her disgusting drink in order to wake herself up. She looked around the dancefloor, automatically finding Stella and Brandon as they swayed to the rhythm. Techna and Timmy were huddled in the corner probably discussing something about technology. Musa and Riven were also in the corner, be it on the opposite side from Techna, which greatly surprised Bloom because Musa was more often than not first on the dancefloor alongside Layla (though club suited them more, but the two always found a way to fit in anywhere), but right now dancefloor seemed like the last place Musa wanted to be. Instead, fairy of music was busy glaring daggers at her boyfriend that seemed to pay little to no attention to them.

Bloom rolled her eyes at the two of them (not that her and Sky were any better) and focused on finding Layla that also, surprisingly, decided to go solo on this mission. She found her talking to some Isis official that she probably knew due to her status. With Layla’s position in mind, bloom turned to finding the last couple but Flora and Helia were nowhere to be found so Bloom assumed they were probably taking a stroll in the garden.

With those in mind, Bloom once again diverted her eyes from the dancefloor and looked at the champagne bubbling in her glass as her thoughts ran over the information she remembered about Amplificarum.

Apparently, the green stone, by physical appearance almost indistinguishable from emerald, had the power to magnify any spells or beams aimed at something. Or someone, Bloom thought. It was most commonly used for protection spells and it generally wasn’t meant for offensive spellwork. Bloom somehow had doubts Valtor will use it for protection spells. The sheer thought of chaos that could potentially happen if such artifact ever fell into Valtor’s, or anyone’s wrong hands, made Bloom shudder all over and grip her champagne glass bit tighter. That can never be allowed to happen. It’s why you’re here. There’s no way he will be able to slip in and out undetected with eleven pairs of eyes looking for him.

Bloom couldn’t deny that Valtor is the most powerful, and quite frankly the most cunning, villain they ever had the pleasure of meeting. What irked her to the point of madness, however, was the fact that Valtor always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

The battles are like chess game. Daphne’s voice sounded in her head. In order to defeat your opponent you have to figure out their strategy. You have to master the art of reading their moves and find a way to turn the odds in your favor.

It was not hard to guess who played certain roles in this game though. She was an amateur, an amateur that was loosing valuable chess pieces battle after battle whereas Valtor was a professional that suffered minor losses here and there but still had the most prized figurines in the game. It didn’t take a professional chess player to see that the odds were most definitely not in Bloom’s favor.

He’ll slip sooner or later. Bloom thought with a smile. Even Valtor can make a mistake. And it takes only a second, a slip of concentration, a lapse in judgment and the board will tilt in our direction. Even an amateur can get lucky and stometimes, the pawn can be the most powerful piece capable of settling the final score, so don’t sell yourself short.

Bloom was so distracted by her mental pep talk that she failed to notice one of the guests approach.

“This stuff they’re serving us,” Bloom jumped as a deep melodic voice rang out next to her. “it’s not something I expected from Isis royal court.”

The stranger came to stand almost arm to arm with her, but she also noticed she was almost two heads shorter than him.

“In a good, or a bad way?” Bloom asked with a frown. The stranger has short brown hair styled to a perfection, not even a hair out of place. From what she could see from the side without being too obvious, she noticed he had perfectly straight nose and an overall boyish appearance.

The stranger lifted one of his eyebrows curiously. “Have you tried that?” He pointed to her glass.

“Yes.”

“And how does it taste?”

“Like a hair conditioner.”

He nodded approvingly. “Interesting comparison. Not inaccurate though. Well Miss, I think you just answered your own question.”

Despite all odds, Bloom found herself smiling at stranger’s antics and clever quips. “I am sorry but I don’t think I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.”

Okay, rude.

“Well,” she forced out, “would you be so kind to give me your name then?” Bloom really hoped her smile was more convincing than her words.

“There’s no need, Bloom. You already know my name.” Bloom’s smile vanished as the man finally turned to face her, the unique icy colored eyes she only saw on one particular individual looking straight into her wider-than-dinnerplates blue ones. She felt a bead of sweat roll down the thin column of her neck and disappear into her cleavage.

Bloom gulped.

Valtor smirked.

“You!” was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

He shook his head, his eyebrows set in a frown as he let out a disappointed huff. “That is not my name princess. You might wish to try again.”

“What are you doing here, Valtor?” Bloom managed through gritted teeth.

“Oh so you do remember.” Valtor smirked like the cat who got all the cream. “Good. Otherwise I would have to remind you and I really don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening.”

“As if you need me, or anyone, for that!” Bloom whisper-yelled as her eyes darted desperately across the room, trying to locate her team.

“Now now,” Valtor cooed, “it is not polite to look away from the person you’re having a conversation with, Bloom. Someone should’ve taught you proper manners.”

Bloom gasped as she felt the dragon fire raging in her chest, the effect much more intense than she’s ever experienced before. She swayed slightly on her feet and she raised her unoccupied arm to clutch lightly at her chest. The world was spinning in front of her eyes and just as she feared she might topple over, one of Valtor’s large hands grasped her bicep and the forest fire that burned in her turned into smoldering ashes.

Bloom leaned slightly on her side, Valtor’s arm acting like an anchor as she fought to regain her breath.

“What,” she rasped out, her voice hoarse like she just inhaled smoke, “was that?”

“Just a reminder that you should not antagonize me.” Valtor’s voice was cold and sharp and it made her swallow down a snarky response.

“Is that how you snuck past Techna and me?” The pain was gone but her legs still felt wobbly and she was forced to hold onto Valtor in order to remain standing. “A cloaking spell?”

“If the shoe fits…” he trailed off as Bloom stood up to her full height but despite the heels she wore, Valtor noted with a slight amusement, only managed to reach his shoulders. The glare princess of Domino sent him would make a lesser man run to his mom but it only made Valtor grin. Bloom ripped her arm from his grasp and he had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle that threatened to escape as Bloom stumbled slightly when he willingly let her go.

Bloom mumbled something that even his heighten senses couldn’t pick up. “I apologize darling, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?”

“I said that if you turn around and bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.”

Valtor was in stupor for a minute, but then a surprised chuckle broke through his lips and his shoulders started shaking from the laughter he tried, and was slowly failing at, keeping contained. “Oh, and she bites.”

Valtor continued laughing sporadically, stopping for a few moments only to start up again. The lines around his eyes crinkled and Bloom found herself fascinated by how melodic and pleasant his laugh sounded. The thought only lasted for a few seconds before Bloom stomped on it with a part of her brain that was still capable of making rational thoughts. Get it together, Bloom.

“If you’re quite done,” Bloom spoke, her cheeks red from rather unorthodox behavior she exhibited few minutes ago, “how about you tell me what are you doing here, finally?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Forget it, you’re not getting it!” She turned to face him fully, her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

Valtor lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘Really?’, mockery clear in his eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”

Bloom nodded. “I am.”

Valtor shook his head, smile on his face, amused by her confident tone. She thinks she’s a match for me. Silly girl. He was just about to tell her as much when the music that played as more of a background noise, suddenly became louder, loud to the point it drowned out all the chatter in the room.

Bloom almost jumped out of her skin when the orchestra started playing, loudly. She flinched, however, when she once again felt Valtor’s huge hand on her body. This time his palm was not in a direct contact with her skin but the unusual placement of the said appendage caused her to panic. His hand landed on the small of her back and it was quite persistently pushing her forward, straight onto the dancefloor between other couples.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed through clenched teeth, sparks flaring at her fingertips, beginnings of an offensive spell already forming on her vocal cords.

“We are dancing.” His calm voice only made her more angry and she started struggling against the force pushing her forward.

“I don’t want to dance. Let me go.”

He stopped just short of the line separating area designed for dancing and bowed down theatrically while offering his hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss?”

Few people closest to them turned around at the sound of his voice and Bloom had to bite her tongue to resist the urge to claw his eyes out. “No, you can’t!” She huffed out quietly instead, her neck and cheeks turning red from anger. “I told you, I don’t want to dance and I most certainly do not want to dance with the likes of you!"

“You wound me princess, truly. I don’t bite… not unless you want me to, of course.”

Bloom’s nostrils flared and flames began to dance in her eyes. What insolence.

“Let’s make a deal, princess of Domino.” He interrupted her just as smoke was about to start coming out of her ears. “You let me have this dance, and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know and I promise to tell the truth.”

“Why should I trust you?” She raised her eyebrows but it was obvious she was interested.

“You shouldn’t.” He tilted his head to the side as smile stretched across his lips. “But that never stopped you before.”

Sea blue met the arctic ice. A spark erupted and the coldness of his gaze melted away. “I give you my word.” His hand was still hovering in the air, his palm opened in invitation as he tilted his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

Bloom weighed her options. For as far as she knew, this could be another one of Valtor’s tricks to gain the information from her instead of vice versa. But the burning questions only he had the answers to kept pressing on the part of her brain that was telling her how much of a madness this was. Bloom sighed. Her hand rose hesitantly and slowly took hold of Valtor’s.

“One dance. That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

He gripped Bloom’s fingers bit tighter as he lead her into the classic pose with his unoccupied hand placed on her lower back, lower than socially accepted when dancing with someone you do not know, but still in the safe zone that didn’t ask for Bloom to knee him in the balls. His other hand loosened around her fingers and now gently supported her palm. Instead of placing her other arm on Valtor’s shoulder, Bloom gripped one side of her skirt so she could move freely and to minimize contact. He looked down , searching her face, but Bloom turned her head in the opposite direction.

Valtor was never the one to blatantly display his emotions but Bloom’s refusal to look him in the eyes was one thing that almost made him boil. He didn’t know why the daughter of those that defeated him had such effect on him and he didn’t like it. He hated not knowing what was running through her head, especially in the place where he was in an obvious disadvantage concerning numbers of the two opposing teams. During his careful observation, he counted eleven of them, and there was only one of him. Not like any of them actually pose any threat, he mused. The only one that is able to even remotely challenge me is the one I’m dancing with and from this proximity she can be easily taken care of. He studied her posture, how her eyes avoided his at all cost, how her back stood stiff like someone stuck a pole to her spine, how tightly she gripped her skirt as he moved with her elegantly. It was obvious she was not enjoying this. Well then, let’s make you even more uncomfortable.

Without warning, Valtor pulled Bloom closer to his body, upper body completely pressed against hers, one of his legs between both of hers as her head snapped up to look at his cheeky smile. Fire was blazing in her eyes but Valtor didn’t care. He thrived on her reactions. Bloom squeezed the hand that was holding hers in warning but Valtor only gripped the flesh of her hip in response. Devils were dancing in his eyes but to Bloom they looked alive for the first time. Gone was the icy look capable of making even the best trained soldier hesitate before rushing into the battle against him.

He’s genuinely amused by this. She thought. If only be wasn’t having fun at my expense, I might’ve let it slide. Valtor twirled her around other dancing couples, his graceful steps never flattering, and it occurred to Bloom for the first time that she actually didn’t step on his toes even once.

“How are you doing this?” She asked him as he swung her away from himself, only to bring her in again, her back to his front, both of his hands gripping her hips. In her peripheral vision, she saw him rise his eyebrow. “I’ve never been good at dancing.”

Valtor smirked. “Perhaps you’ve never had a good enough partner.”

Judging by the tone of his voice, he was mocking Sky openly so Bloom miscalculated and stepped with the heel of her foot onto his polished shoe. She heard him grunt as, what she assumed was a curse, left his mouth. She smiled. If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.

“What happened to my parents?” Her next question made him quirk an eyebrow and she saw his eyes widen for a second before he regained his bearings.

“What did Faragonda tell you?” He answered her questions with one of his own and that made her irrationally angry for some reason.

“I asked you first.” She bit her tongue before insults started spewing out of her mouth. She realized long ago that snarky comments only made him more angry so she wasn’t willing to risk her one chance. “Answer me.”

“Do you think you are in position to demand anything, heiress of the lost kingdom?” Anger was starting to creep up in his voice as he dipped her low and snapped her back up harsher than necessary.

Bloom gasped as she suddenly found herself in an almost horizontal position. “You promised.”

Valtor assumed their previous position, except this time he lowered his head so his breath would graze her neck when he spoke. He sighed and goosebumps rose on Bloom’s skin as his hot breath washed over her collarbones and sternum.

“The truth is, I do not know what happened to your parents. I was imprisoned before the final battle. As far as I’m aware, ancient witches were the last to see them.”

Bloom swallowed. “That’s not Faragonda’s version.”

Valtor laughed, though his laugh was somehow bitter. “And you, as a good fairy, believe everything that your headmistress says don’t you?”

“And who am I supposed to trust? You?”

“Have you ever wondered why,” he repositioned her hand slightly as he side stepped to avoid the couple that was directly on a collision course with them. The sudden movement made the lock of Bloom’s hair wiggle out of her bun. “your headmistress send bunch of barely legal girls to suicide missions against the powerful enemies such as myself?”

“Because she trusts us?”

“Because she has an underlying motive.” He continued when Bloom scoffed. “Think about it. Can you honestly tell me your headmistress provides you with all the available information before she sends you off into battles?”

His question made her think of all the times Faragonda withheld the valuable information because she deemed it necessary and she bit her lip as realization hit her. “That doesn’t make her evil.”

“I never said it made her evil.” Smirk once again climbed on her face. “She’s cunning alright, but not cunning enough to be considered evil.”

“What’s her underlying motive according to your expertise?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Everybody needs someone to do their dirty work.”

“Like you have Trix?” Bloom raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “Those three are as incompetent as they get.”

They danced in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few seconds, Valtor’s capable hands leading them. “You never answered my question.” Bloom said.

“What question?”

“How are you doing this?” She tilted her head slightly to their intertwined hands.

The edge of Valtor’s lips turned upwards. “You know how I’m doing it.”

Bloom frowned in confusion. “No, I actually really don’t.”

“Yes you do.” She was about to open her mouth to protest and to ask him what the hell he’s playing at, but he was faster than her. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Bloom’s shoulders tensed as the feeling of her native fire burning spread across her whole body. Okay, this is new.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

Bloom locked eyes with Valtor as he bent slightly in the knees, his hands gripped her hips tightly and her hands automatically came to rest on his broad shoulders, as he lifted her up and then, with care she didn’t know he was capable of, lowered her back to the ground. There was something hypnotic about his eyes and Bloom found herself unable to look away as she fought to regain her breath once her feet touched the ground again.

Whatever moment they shared was interrupted by a horrendous sound of alarm blaring and all the lights going off at the same time as explosion sounded somewhere above them. Valtor smirked as Bloom recoiled from him as if he burned her. Her hands lit on fire as people started screaming around her and moving away from them.

Valtor could hear Bloom’s friends calling her name as they pushed through the crowd of panicked guests.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it!?” Anger was obvious in her eyes and Valtor found himself fascinated as the fiery glow from her hands reflected in her irises. What he would do to have her on his side.

He shook himself out of his stupor as he snapped his fingers, letting his disguise slip off. Short brown hair and boyish look was replaced by long strawberry blond hair and his face morphed back into high cheekbones and sharp jaw. “I would love to continue our conversation,” he raised his arm and shot blindly towards the ceiling, blowing a huge hole into it. “however, I believe that my time has run out.”

Distant flashes lit up and Winx finally emerged from the crowd, sparkly outfits and huge wings on point. Bloom was the only one that remained in her normal attire, her hands showing no sign of burning out anytime soon, as she kept shooting daggers at Valtor with her eyes.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t able to answer more of your questions, Bloom. But I don’t think this is our last meeting.” Valtor grinned, thirty two pearly white teeth on display. “Besides,” he drawled as Icy flew from the direction of the vault Amplificarum was locked in, green gem standing out against the pale skin of her hand. “you know where to find me.”

“Solar energy!” Stella’s arm shot up, spell hurtling straight towards Valtor, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash as his hand rose to absorb the spell.

“Stop in the name of the law!” Armed soldiers and specialists started breaking through, their weapons and swords drawn and ready for a fight.

Valtor’s laugh echoed in the room as he shot off towards the hole in the ceiling, his mouth reciting the spell Bloom was quite familiar with. “Have the taste of your own medicine, princess of Solaria.”

Bloom barely had time to put up a shield as Stella’s own amplified spell was hurled back to them, painting the whole room in white hot glow, forcing everyone to close their eyes so they don’t go blind.

When Bloom finally gathered enough strength to open her eyes, Valtor was nowhere to be seen and people, specialists, guards and her team were slowly climbing back on their feet. Remnants of Stella’s spell still lingered in the air, making the room uncomfortably bright and forcing Bloom to squint.

“He did it again.” Stella spoke next to her and Bloom nodded absentmindedly as Stella continued looking around. “He used a heightened version of my spell… it’s a miracle no one’s been hurt.”

Bloom shook her head. “I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone Stell. He obviously needed a distraction to get away.”

“He doesn’t want unnecessary pain and destruction… you told me that’s what he said to you on Andros.”

Bloom nodded. “I think he managed to fulfill his promise, for once.”

Bloom looked up where Valtor made his exit and couldn’t help but to think that the chessboard once again tilted in his favor.

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing  the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner @idratherliveinbooks @silver-stardrop @niko-su993 @olivia-grace26 @shigsteranddabstersimp @hawks96@pink-dodo-writes @amishahosein24 @keilemlucent @stargazingaloneatnight @thelilmisskaydesi @morganseeksindependence-blog @teabutnerdy @patchworkpiper

If you’re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

[ahkaahshi]

lucky [oikawa tooru x reader]

pairing: oikawa tooru x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) with some fluff :)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, orgasm denial/edging, roleplaying, penetrative sex, implied deep throating, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of gambling and casinos, and oikawa being a lovable dork as always

word count: 5.4k (a monster of a fic compared to my usual writing. whew)

overview: after a long weekend of work-related conferences, you’re desperate to let off some steam at the hotel bar. however, you don’t realize what you’re in for when you take to eyeing the man you couldn’t keep your attention off of when you arrived.

From the first moment you set foot beneath the sea of twinkling fairy lights adorning the patio of the luxurious hotel bar, you haven’t been able to take your eyes off him. Like a star, he shimmers in the gentle glow—his crisp, white button-up reflecting every hint of light that falls upon his figure. That bright smile of his he flashes the bartender as the two enjoy a casual chat is radiant, threatening to set your heart ablaze. With the warmth that his demeanor exudes, it’s impossible for you notto notice his presence in spite of all the other patrons chattering, swaying to the music, and enjoying a good laugh with friends in the large, outdoor space.

Oikawa Tooru. You already know his name after seeing his face on national television countless times, but you never could’ve expected that you would bump into him during the last night of your stay at this hotel in particular. Even from afar, he’s just as stunning—if not more so—than he appears on the volleyball court, and the instant attraction you feel to him is what has you carefully weaving between the throngs of guests to make your way over to the bar.

The seat next to him is open, but you think twice about taking it. Doing so would quickly put you in a rather intimate situation, you assume, given how close each stool is located to the next, so you settle on leaving a bit of distance between the two of you by perching on the plush cushion of a one a few seats away. Once you’ve placed your small purse securely on a hook beneath the counter, you flag the bartender with a small wave of the hand and a smile, making him abandon his conversation with the professional volleyball player to attend to you.

There’s a brief moment when your gaze meets his brown one tinged golden by the lights as he glances over to see the source of his conversation’s interruption, and, in that short span of time before your eyes dart away from his, you swear you catch a glimpse of a smile playing on his lips. After you’ve placed your signature drink order, you focus your attention on the man behind the counter instead, watching him grab and combine the ingredients necessary to fill your request. However, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not the only one having a hard time keeping their eyes to themselves.

And your own inability to do so is what has you sending another glance down the bar in his direction, (e/c) eyes trailing along the intricate detailing beneath the counter’s resin surface as they make their way over to his. Trying to withhold the smile that almost instinctively spreads across your lips at noticing the one already gracing his when your gazes meet again is futile. There’s something about his radiant presence and the barely noticeable glint of rapture shining in his eyes that has your heart fluttering in your chest—and its pace soon increases when he lifts his glass, grabs the jacket draped over the hook by his knee, and stands so he can close the distance between you.

A giggle tinged with both delight and nervousness escapes your lips before you call out to him, “You don’t have to come over here!”

“Oh?” he questions coyly, raising an eyebrow at you as he ducks beneath the counter for a moment to place his jacket on the hook beside your purse, “What was I supposed to do, then? Just sit and stare until someone else came to chat you up?” His teasing remark fills you with warmth, as does the realization that only a few inches separate you from the impossibly attractive man you’d been admiring. As bold as you were to look him in the eye before, you find the feat to be a challenge now.

“Not exactly,” you suggest, suppressing your nerves enough to deliver an equally playful response of, “But I thought I’d receive a message from the bartender that my drink’s already been paid for by the handsome loner at the other end of the bar before he gathered the courage to approach me?”

His fingers swim through his brown waves of feathery hair as his lips quirk into a devilish smile. “Mm, but then I would’ve been doing exactly what you expected me to do! And where’s the fun in that, huh?” You follow his chestnut gaze to the man behind the counter when he sets the drink you’d requested down on the coaster near in front of you. Your hand’s journey to your purse is stopped by a light touch on your arm and the words, “You can put anything she orders on my bill,” leaving your new drinking partner’s mouth.

Traces of heat skitter along the skin his fingers graze like stray embers that have escaped the fire. Somehow, in the coolness of the night with not a drop of liquor in your system, there’s not a single goosebump on your body.

“Thank you…”

“Tooru.” He sticks his hand into the small void between you in a formal greeting.

You return the favor, sliding your palm against his and giving it a gentle shake. “(F/n).” A thought about how soft and gentle yet firm his grip is passes through your mind, bringing familiar prickles of warmth to your cheeks. “I appreciate it.”

Chuckling, he mentions, “Didn’t wanna ruin the little fantasy you seem to have all put together in that pretty head of yours by making you pay for your own drink.” The degree of rapture in his gaze, as if he thinks your face is the most enticing subject in his field of vision, slowly melts away your hesitation, and you find yourself raising your glass to his after it’s been refilled once more in an amicable toast.

The first taste always burns the most, but Oikawa’s presence seems to sweeten it ever so subtly. “So,” you hum after taking a deep breath to collect your thoughts, “what brings you here tonight by yourself? Thought someone as famous as you are wouldn’t be a moment without an entourage of adoring, female fans.”

He snickers, lips curling up into a grin that reflects his amusement. “It’s quite a large burden to bear, if I do say so myself, but I managed to escape their clutches just moments before you got here. Pretty lucky if I do say so myself,” he explains, his flirtations accompanied by a small wink. After taking another sip of the dark liquor in his glass, he adds, “As far as what I’m doing here; well, I’m here on business. But there’s no harm in mixing in a little pleasure, right?”

You shrug. “Might as well.”

“How about you?” Your gaze only leaves his for a moment to watch the way his fingertips graze the height of his glass, collecting droplets of condensation rolling down the sides. The silver rings he’s wearing on his right index and ring fingers shine when they catch a hint of the soft light pouring over your forms.

Returning your attention to his eyes, which appear to relax at having the pleasure of meeting yours once again, you elaborate, “Same reason. Wanted to find at least one fun thing to do after a long weekend of back to back work-related events.”

“In that case, feel free to have as many drinks as you want—on me,” he offers. However, before you can protest and tell him that you would never be so cruel as to exploit his generous offer, he comments, “But, if you’d rather sink money into something a little more rewarding and exciting than the frankly overpriced alcohol here, what do you say to joining me in the casino?”

You bat your eyelashes at him from over the rim of your glass while you take another sip as an indication that you’ll give him an answer when you can speak again. The invitation’s rather bold, you think, considering the fact that the two of you have only known each other for a grand total of about ten minutes. In any other situation, you’d most likely say no and do anything you could to shirk your conversational partner’s advances—depending on how they’d approached you, that is. But you find that you don’t want to say no to him.

Whether it’s the way his inviting gaze threatens to keep drawing you closer and closer to him so you can see the glimmer of the fairy lights in his eyes, or the air of warmth surrounding him that makes you feel as if you’ve known him forever, you don’t know—but you just can’t say no. You don’t want to. Sure, you’d gotten dressed up and taken a trip down to the ritzy hotel’s bar with the intentions of alleviating your boredom, but if you left with him, it would be because you wanted to be in his company rather than because you wanted a solution to your issue.

So, you answer him with a nod, but delay your next course of action for a while longer by asking, “Is it alright if I indulge in just one more of these overpriced drinks before we leave, though? I don’t know about know about you, but I only just got here.”

His smile doesn’t falter as he obliges with a dip of the head. “Really trying to bleed me dry, here, aren’tcha?”

“Might as well leave the bar knowing that you spent your money on something worthwhile before losing it all at the slots.”

“In that case, I’ll order myself another too.”

The two of you share a much-needed laugh, considering your long weekends of work, and continue your conversation over another refill. Though you’re sure the time the two of you spend on the plush stools at the bar top is relatively short, it feels much longer, and you find yourself abstaining from finishing your drink too quickly to prolong the moments you spend together—since you don’t want him to splash more of his hard-earned money on another rather average drink hiding behind a fancy name. In spite of all the commotion surrounding you as people dance, fill up the barstools on either side of you, or raise their voices to be heard over the chatter and music, his figure is the only thing you can see, and his voice the only thing you can hear.

You do snap back to reality once more, though, when you both come to the realization that your glasses are empty, but you’re happy that his idea to visit the casino means this isn’t the end of your night together. Once he’s slid on his jacket and you’ve slung your purse over your shoulder, the two of you head back into the hotel and stride down the ornately designed carpeting towards your destination. The slight sensation of the alcohol buzzing in your veins fills you with warmth that he seems to localize and intensify with his light touches to the small of your back as he guides you over towards the glowing slot machines.

Oikawa notices your hesitation when you sit down in front of one of the money-guzzling contraptions, and teases, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you have to pay to play, princess.”

The affectionate nickname that leaves his mouth makes your heart jump in your chest and nearly takes your breath away. Quickly regaining your composure and dismissing his comment with a wave of the hand, you simper, “Of course I know that, Tooru. I’m just trying to decide if this is really worth it, since I never seem to have the best luck with the slots.”

A reassuring smile forms across his lips, and his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly as his eyes flit over your figure. “Well,” he sighs, leaning against the seat and nonchalantly slinging his arm over the back of yours, “you never know. Tonight might just be the night you get lucky.”

His comment seems innocent enough, but the seduction laced into his voice as well as the confidence behind the smirk that replaces his sweet grin has you believing otherwise. And his intentions soon become clearer as you make your rounds around the casino together.

At first, you think his advances a figment of your hyperactive imagination projecting your own desires onto him. That every bumping of your knees together while lounging in the cushioned seats at the machines is an accident, and that every graze of his fingertips along your arm is just a polite way of grabbing your attention. However, as the evening wears on, you stop second-guessing yourself. To be fair, it gets fairly challenging to deny that something more than just camaraderie is present between the two of you when his hand wraps around your waist as you make your way to the blackjack table—and eventually ends up running along your thigh beneath the cover the polished wood provides.

His touch ignites your entire body with sensation. It refuses to be ignored, just as his presence had when you’d seen him at the bar earlier, and it fuels a desire within you to have his hands on every inch of your skin. Oh, how sad they must be, only being able to travel the short expanse between your knee and the hem of your dress’s tight skirt for the sake of politeness, you think. But pity is the exact opposite of what you should feel towards him, since you know better than anyone else that you want more than anything to give into him.

He seems to sense—given the way your own hands never move to reject his advances and you lean into his touch when he experimentally puts an arm around you—that you’re on the same page as he is, and decides to beckon you closer to him for a chat before you reach your next destination. “Hey, whaddya say we make things a little more fun?” he suggests, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Thankfully, the shuddering breath that escapes your mouth is lost beneath the ringing of the slot machines and upbeat music.

“What did you have in mind?” you wonder, feeling excitement course through you at the limitless options that he could be imagining.

“How about—” he pauses for a moment to lean down closer to your ear—“we make a little deal?” You follow his gaze over to the roulette table a few feet away before fastening your attention on him once more as he offers, “If the ball lands on an even number, I’ll give you a special prize.” He retrieves a small, plastic card from his coat pocket that you instantly recognize as a room key, making your breath hitch in your throat and your eyelashes flutter with shock.

You swallow thickly and ask, “And what if it doesn’t?”

The grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth is one you’ve seen before many times on television when he’d one-upped his opponents with an unexpected play, but being exposed to it in person and in such close proximity to him has your heart racing. “You’ll have to be willing to take the risk and play in order for you to find out the answer to that question, sweetheart. Trust me, you can’t lose.”

There’s a long moment of silence that ensues his proposition before you nod in agreement and strut over to the table to try your luck. After placing a bet on all even numbers, you watch with bated breath as the tiny ball whizzes around the outside of the wheel. Oikawa chuckles at your clear desperation, earning him a roll of the eyes from you. Because of your previously held belief that you’d probably end up losing more than you’d earned tonight, your heart leaps with excitement when the ball rolls into the slot with the number 22 etched into it.

“Well, look at you! What did I say earlier?” Oikawa muses, giving your shoulder a pat as you collect your winnings even though they’re not at the top of your mind like his hotel room key is. The sensation of the card’s smooth edges running along your fingers when he slides it into your awaiting palm gives you an instant adrenaline rush. “Off you go, then. I’ll be up in a minute.” Before you can even ask him what the alternate option to the deal would’ve been, he’s giving you a gentle nudge in the direction of the tiled floor leading towards the lobby. The parting words he whispers in your ear have your core flooding with heat: “Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if that dress was off by the time I got there.”

In an instant, he’s sauntering in the opposite direction, leaving you to walk to the elevator by yourself on shaky legs that continue to quiver the entire ride up to the eighth floor. Part of you wants to curse yourself for being so susceptible to his irresistible charm and sugared words, but there’s no point in doing so now. You’re going to get what you want, after all.

As you step into his room, you’re greeted by the subtle yet delightful scent of his cologne wafting from the suits in the closet on your way over to the foot of the large bed you see peeking out from around the corner. Nervous tingles travel down your spine as you kick off your shoes and reach for the zipper of your dress, making your skin erupt in goosebumps, but the sensation doesn’t stop you from slipping the garment off and settling down against the plush duvet.

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting long, and you’re leaping to your feet when you hear the heavy door open, letting in the conversations of other guests wandering down the hall nearby. For a split second, you feel self-conscious and wish you had more covering your body than just a lacy bra and panties, but, when you see the way his steps come a halt and his gaze traces over the entirety of your figure, drinking in the beautiful sight before him, your hesitation immediately dissipates.

Slowly, he approaches you, shrugging off his jacket before placing one hand on your bare waist and using his other to tilt your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “You’re gorgeous, (f/n),” he breathes, pupils dilating as they trace and retrace the path from yours to your lips parted with anticipation and desperate to be kissed, “I got lucky too. So, so lucky.”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he presses his warm lips against yours. They’re soft and gentle, molding to fit the shape of yours as if they were created to be interlocked. As his tongue runs along yours after tentatively prodding your lower lip in a silent request for access, his fingers dance along the bare skin on your back. Soon, your kisses are becoming more and more heated, and your hands are moving to his shirt to undo the buttons keeping it clasped together.

“Lemme take these off, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips, tugging at the back of your bra with one hand and at the waistband of your thong with the other. All you can do is nod, since you’re too breathless to give a verbal response, and allow him to undo the clasp around your back. A gentle push towards the bed sends you toppling down atop it with a playful giggle before he finishes your job of ridding himself of his shirt and tugs your panties down your legs.

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see the strain of his erection against his trousers, making your mouth water. He smirks at your mounting desire for him and kneels down on the carpet, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. As teasingly as you’d expect from him, he drags a long finger down your slit, dragging the juices seeping out of your core up to your clit and rubbing the sensitive bud experimentally, delighted by the loud moans he reaps from your vocal cords in response.

“Tooru…” you utter needily, arching your back, “More… please.”

Unable to resist your gentle plea, he brings his lips to the plush skin of your inner thigh and mumbles, “Keep saying my name just like that, princess.” His low hum of contentment sends vibrations through your entire lower region as his mouth presses against your entrance so he can lick a broad stripe from there to your pearl.

The sensation’s nearly too much for you, but you soon melt into it, your hands reaching for his head of soft, brown hair to bring his face closer to your heat as he pleasures you with his tongue. His fingers splay across your thighs and give them a tight squeeze before he moves them up to your hips so he can hold you in place when you begin rocking them against his tongue. The sound of his name leaving your mouth in more desperate cries encourages him to delve the wet muscle deep enough into your core to make you squeal and tighten your grasp around the strands woven between your fingers.

It only takes a few minutes for him to have you at the brink of your first orgasm with how skilled his tongue is in working your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Right there—ah—Tooru!” you whimper at feeling your stomach fill with heat, “Please! I’m… I’m gonna cum!”

You expect to feel your body succumb to the pleasure, but, upon hearing your words, he retreats from you completely and licks his lips. “So soon?” he questions in a manner that’s almost mocking. Chest heaving and glistening core still fully exposed to him, you watch him with dismay. “C’mon, I know you can last longer than that.”

Inadvertently, you clench your thighs together and complain, “Don’t tease me like that.”

Shooting you a devious smile, Oikawa rises to his feet once more and quips, “Whine all you want, baby; but I know you’ll be changing your tune when I make you cum harder than you ever have before.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you’re quick to regain your composure under his perceptive stare. “Quite a bold promise to make, considering you don’t have a single clue about my sex life, whatsoever,” is the comment that leaves your mouth in a grumble while you shift your position so that you’re sitting up on your knees. Intent on getting payback for being robbed of your orgasm at the last second, you reach for the belt holding his trousers up and task yourself with undoing it.

He chuckles wryly. “It’s not a promise—it’s a guarantee.” Your throat goes dry at his words and at the sight of his large cock when you free it from the restraint of his pants. “Besides,” he mentions, his voice taking on a low tone that has you looking up at him as you lean forward onto your elbows, so your mouth is level with the leaking tip of his erection, “it doesn’t matter who you’ve been with before. You’ll forget them all after tonight.”

With that statement made, he eases his hips forward as you open your mouth invitingly so he can slide his cock along your tongue. A gentle groan rumbles in his chest when you close your mouth around him and move further down his shaft at a painstakingly slow pace until the tip is nudging your throat. You don’t intend to keep him there, but you want to tease him with the sensation just enough to make him lose a bit of that cool composure of his. Spurred on by his gentle sounds of pleasure and the look of fascination he’s regarding you with, you bob your head along the length of his shaft, dragging his tongue beneath it in long, deep strokes.

“Fuck, (f/n), that feels good,” he hisses, gaze wavering as he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back at how good your mouth feels enveloping his cock. A gentle hum of appreciation you let out in response to his compliment has him thrusting into your mouth in an effort to feel the vibrations along every inch of his length. The slightly bitter taste of his precum catches on your tastebuds when you swirl your tongue around his throbbing head. “So fucking good.”

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing at his praise, and you moan teasingly while picking up the pace, taking him closer and closer to your throat with each thrust. His hand comes down to brush a few strands of your hair away from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture before his fingers clench around them to keep one of his hands occupied. The other rests on the bedside table nearby, fingertips turning white beneath the pressure he’s applying against the hard wood.

Though it’s clear he’s enjoying every moment of this with the way his cock twitches appreciatively in your mouth, the last thing he wants is to finish before he’s taken care of you. “On your back, princess,” he commands, his voice gruffer than usual as he indicates he wants you to stop by tugging your hair in the opposite direction to his body. Obediently, you let him slide his cock out of your mouth and fall back onto the bed, spreading your legs wide open so he can see just how ready you are for him. Your core has been ablaze with yearning for too long for you to be shy now.

The shadow his body creates in the soft light falls over yours when he crawls onto the bed and hovers over you. The desire to be closer to him that hasn’t left since the moment you first saw him resurfaces once again, prompting you to throw your arms around his shoulders so you can unite your bare torsos. His lips dive down towards yours once more, pressing passionate kisses against them that—in combination with the feeling of his cock pressing against your clit—have you moaning into his mouth. Your fingers pressing into the muscles along his back indicate your desperation to have him inside of you, so he obliges; plunging into your warm, velvety core as he takes his lower lip between your teeth.

A wanton mewl escapes your lips at feeling so, delightfully full, and you wrap your legs around his back, adjusting your hips so he can reach deeper inside of you. The stretch is somewhat painful at first, but every sensation you feel quickly melts into pleasure when he begins thrusting into you slowly and gently. Soon, it feels too slow and too gentle, and every nerve ending in your body is screaming for more. “Faster!” you cry as he nudges your head to the side so he can litter the tender skin on your neck with love bites.

He listens and indulges you, but not for long. Each time he hears your breathing become more erratic and feels you clench around him tightly, he eases off, ignoring the whimpers and complaints that leave your mouth at each orgasm he prevents you from reaching. As he teases you with shallow thrusts or riles you up even further by pulling out of you, he moves his head down to your chest so he can take one of your pert nipples in his mouth while his fingers pinch the other.

“Tooru, please. Please, let me cum!” you find yourself begging after being edged to what you feel is damn near the point of insanity with how little you can focus on anything else aside from chasing the high he keeps within inches of you. You open your eyes to give him a look of longing that you hope is enough to convince him to finally finish you off.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes, sending a wave of fresh goosebumps along your skin glistening with sweat, “I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.” The sound of his gentle voice transforming into a low growl dripping with lust fills your entire stomach with heat. “Turn over.” His hands on your waist help you flip onto your stomach and bring your hips up into the air as he kneels behind you to position himself at your entrance.

In one, swift motion, he pushes the entirety of his length back inside of you, making you cry out at the feeling of every ridge and vein in his dick dragging along your hypersensitive walls. The plush duvet and high thread count sheets muffle your screams of pleasure enough to keep them confined to his hotel room alone as he pounds into you mercilessly, sending your body charging towards what you hope is the release you’ll finally be able to experience. With all the pressure that’s building up inside of you, you can hardly withstand the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

A few more thrusts that target your most sensitive spot have you finally toppling over the edge of your orgasm, and warm waves of ecstasy crash over you as your body shakes and stars fill the edges of your vision. Your pussy spasming erratically around his cock has Oikawa snapping his hips against yours at a maddening speed until he’s filling your core up with the warmth of his release. He moans loudly between the praises and expletives that roll off his tongue as you ride out your highs together. Though you hate to admit it, he had been right—while merciless, his edging had intensified your pleasure in the end.

The strength of your orgasm leaves you unable to do anything else aside from flop onto the mattress and let your eyelids flutter shut while you regain your breath after Oikawa pulls out of you. The bed shifts beside you as he lies down at your side, taking a minute to steady his own breathing as he runs his hand along your back gently. There’s a few, long moments of silence that fill the warm air of the hotel room before a gentle chuckle from your mouth permeates it. Without speaking, he knows exactly what the source of your amusement is, and he ends up snickering as well.

“You really do say some of the corniest shit, baby,” you remark, amusement glimmering in your eyes when they find his after you roll onto your side to face him, “But I guess you’re a decent actor. Just don’t go quitting your day job, now.”

He grumbles and nuzzles your chin playfully, pressing a kiss against your jaw before pulling away and defending, “Oh, come on. You have to admit that at least some of the things I said were pretty hot.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

His arms snake around your body to pull you against his chest. In one ear, you can hear the sound of his strong heartbeat, and, in the other, you can hear him answer, “Like the whole using roulette as a gamble to win my room key instead of just money situation. C’mon. You liked that. I know you did—I saw your eyes practically burning with desire at that point.”

“Mm? And how do you know I wasn’t just acting as well?” you retort, throwing one of your legs over his and shifting your position so you can see the face of mock irritation you know he’s making at you. Sure enough, his eyes are narrowed, and his lips pursed as he squeezes them shut. After planting a kiss against his lips, you reassure him, “I enjoyed it. You’re very creative, as always, my love.”

“So all the money we spent on this little sexcapade, so to speak, of ours was worth it, then?” His hand on the back of your head keeps your faces within close proximity as he gazes into your eyes expectantly.

With a nod, you answer, “It was. But, any time we get to spend together is always worth it.”

A gentle smile forms on his lips to mirror your own, and his nose brushes against yours when he brings you closer to another kiss. This one’s deeper and more sensual than the last, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. “I love you so much, (f/n).”

“I love you too, Tooru.” The two of you take some time to bask in your mutual and deep feelings of adoration with your foreheads pressed together and hands tracing over each other’s features before you speak again. “Now, how are we gonna be able to top this roleplay, huh?

That very familiar, devious grin of his returns to his mouth as he answers, “Oh, don’t worry, baby girl, I have plenty of other ideas.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @osamusmiya​, @nit-sir-hc​, @arixtsukki​

oikawa: @why-aminot-dead​​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​, @cuddlysoftbear​

[captaincoffeegirl515]

What the hell was that last act???

So first of all I want to say that I did enjoy most of the movie. It was okay. The sex scenes didn’t do anything for me though since I’m just not interested in sex at all. But while I more-or-less liked the movie, I felt that the big plot twists in the last act and the ending were badly done because… how the fuck did ANY of them manage to get away with ANY OF THAT??? Like from a legal standpoint it’s just ???

This got so much longer than I anticipated, so the rest is under the read more. And yes, there are so many spoilers. So if you haven't seen The Voyeurs yet and don't want spoilers, please avoid this.

Seb and Julia literally confess to selling their old apartment in order to spy on the people who live there and use them for their art show. Like, yes, they put that clause in the Terms of Agreement for the apartment (which literally no one ever reads) but there is still the matter of Informed Consent. Informed Consent is usually in the form of a contract Pippa and Thomas both need to read and sign, or via verbal questions and answers which is filmed so Seb and Julia would have physical proof of an agreement. This is basically telling them what footage was taken, how it will be used, and if Seb and Julia have permission to share the footage publicly. In Thomas’ case, since he’s dead, his next-of-kin will be asked. Only then are Seb and Julia legally allowed to publicly share and showcase the Pippa and Thomas’ pictures. And Seb is a professional photographer! He should know that!

Have you ever seen prank shows? Like even the ones on YouTube. Have you noticed at the end of some videos, there would be a part where the filmers would approach the person who was pranked and ask if they could use their footage in the video. That’s Informed Consent. They need to ask permission to use a person’s footage in a video or if they need to blur out the person’s face for privacy. Seb and Julia even showed a picture of a dead man for chrissakes! Remember the outcry when that YouTuber posted a video of a suicide victim in Japan???

The Japanese interviewer was right to disapprove of their methods because even though there was a clause in the Terms of Agreement, the prank (because isn’t that what that whole show they did was?) or experiment still resulted with someone killing themself (yes I know it was murder, but the world doesn't know it). They can possibly still be held liable for causing Thomas to kill himself the same way a prankster can be held liable if their victim dies from a prank because of this thing in Law called the Eggshell Rule or Eggshell Plaintiff.

What this means is that a defendant is liable for any injuries caused by the defendant’s actions, regardless of how unforeseeable or uncommon the plaintiff’s reactions to the defendant’s actions are. So for example, there is a scary prank where the prankster jumps out of the bushes and terrifies people. One of them turns out to have a heart condition, suffers a heart attack, and dies. Regardless of the victim’s frailty, the prankster can be held liable for exacerbating the condition and causing the victim’s death. Likewise in the movie, they can say that Seb and Julia, by orchestrating the whole thing and making Thomas see his girlfriend cheating on him, could have caused him to become broken-hearted and kill himself. Therefore, Seb and Julia can be liable for Thomas’ death.

And then here’s the kicker! The famous photographer and his wife, a famous model, both suddenly end up blind AFTER their big art show where they displayed Pippa’s scandal. And not by accident. No. This was obviously surgically done. And NOBODY suspected foul play?? Nobody thought about revenge?? Nobody thought it strange how their blindness was clearly done with a surgical/medical precision nor suspected the couple’s subject, Pippa, who they thoroughly humiliated, who also worked as an optometrist technician at a lab that has the machines that could cause that kind of blindness??? And they're both still alive! They can easily tell the police who did it!

It should have been way too easy for the police to know that it was foul play. Blood tests can tell that Seb and Julia had been drugged. How they were blinded can be traced to the optometry lab. Pippa would be the easiest main suspect due to her connection to them with revenge as the main motivation after they humiliated her in that art show.

And yes, I agree that what Seb and Julia did was wrong. They used Pippa and Thomas, and then murdered Thomas so they can have some juicy story to tell!

Even so, what happened to Ethical Codes in the medical field? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? Non-maleficience rule? “Do No Harm”? Pippa should have been slammed with, idk, medical malpractice or something, after using her knowledge of the LASIK machine and using it to permanently blind people (which is an actual fear real people have about LASIK surgery), have her license revoked, be fired from her job, and possibly serve jail time. Why is she walking free all willy-nilly and still being allowed to continue stalking Seb and Julia?

I’ll admit though that maybe I’m being more harsh towards Pippa because I myself used to be a Board Certified medical professional (my license expired last year because I hadn't been working in that field for a while) and because of that, her actions angered and horrified me more.

Normally, we as an audience are made to root for the main character or hero, but I found it difficult to do so because Pippa herself is a terrible person. She's a pervert and a creep. She was obsessed with the lives of other people, stalked them, and even went as far as committing crimes in order to fuel her obsession - trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of private property.

And my goodness this actually makes me think of a few Ben Hardy stans who are like this. Well, idk if going to Ben's school so that she can get a copy of a school film he was in can be considered a crime, but it's still fucking creepy.

Pippa’s got that Savior Complex where she tries to rescue this poor neglected wife from her horrible cheating husband (the same one she herself wants to fuck because she’s obsessed with him). And then when it all goes south, she immediately turns around and blames THOMAS of all people because “he started it”. Like, so what if he did?? He still had enough maturity to realize when they were taking it too far, and decided to stop with the stalking. He told her to stop multiple times but she was too blinded by her obsession and lust for a man that she doesn’t even know.

AND THEN!! She stalked a grieving husband (I know we know that was a lie but Pippa didn't know that) and proceeded to cheat on her boyfriend with said grieving husband. And frankly, I don’t understand why she’s so vengeful about Thomas’ death considering how easily she forgot him so that she could cheat on him. Like. Who knows, maybe he still would’ve killed himself regardless of the poisoned drink because the last thing he saw was his girlfriend cheating on him with the man she’d been obsessed with for the past idk how long. Even in the scene after Thomas died, there was a momentary grief where Pippa was all “it’s my fault Thomas died” but it was all too brief and immediately after she went back to obsessing and asking about Seb. And they want me to believe that she’d want to avenge Thomas’ death? No. I think she blinded Seb and Julia because she was angry at being called out for her obsession. For being told that she was wrong to go that far. It wasn’t about her “love” for Thomas. It was about how humiliated she was about being wrong.

Can you believe that Pippa gave this whole speech with the fable about being content with what you have and not to try to be greedy by wanting more and then she just immediately DOES THE OPPOSITE OF THE MORAL by cheating on her boyfriend because she wanted more aka Seb???

The more that I think about it, I feel like the true villain of the movie is Pippa herself. Her obsession with Seb is what started the whole thing. If she had been able to keep a healthy distance, none of that would’ve happened to begin with. There would be no fights over how far things were going. Seb would have no scandal to tell. She worsened Thomas’ insecurities of not being enough for her, making him go to great lengths just to try to please her. Poor Thomas. He truly deserved better.

Pippa also has awful friends. Instead of stamping down the creepy behavior, they’re giving tips on how to listen in on other people’s private conversations! And then later try to excuse her cheating on Thomas. And then help with her obsession AGAIN.

Acting-wise, I felt that Natasha, Ben, and Justice were incredible and I loved them. I love how conflicted Ben played Seb and how you can see it in his eyes. My favorite scene was the one where Seb and Julia had that confrontation over the wine where Seb asks if she ever felt guilty and Julia just stares right back and stares him down. Natasha was brilliant as Julie pretending to be all friendly and vulnerable with Pippa. Justice was very emotional and I love the scenes where he was horrified at how far Pippa was taking everything. For me, Sydney was the weakest one at acting. While there were some okay parts, her face can be really stiff at some points, like during the sex scenes.

Overall, I thought the movie to be quite thought-provoking especially in this day and age where people can find the most intimate details of another person’s life so easily, be that through Carrd, Instagram stories, Facebook feeds, and other social media sites. It makes you think about parasocial relationships, how people can be so obsessed about people that they’ve never even met, and how that obsession can easily grow into something dangerous that can ruin lives. Good movie, terrible last act. Too much sex for my taste, but then it wouldn’t be called an erotic movie.

Outside of the movie, I really love the chemistry between the four of them. I love watching their interviews and seeing how they interact with each other.

Last but not the least, I know this may be random but my brain likes to zoom in on the weirdest things. How on earth did Pippa manage to get Seb on top of that operating table?? No offense but Pippa is fucking tiny. Seb’s like twice her size and mostly muscle AND unconscious. Like ??? Sorry but that threw me off so much it’s ridiculous.

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter five: obligate mutualism

obligate mutualism: a type of mutualism in which the species involved are in close proximity and interdependent with one another in a way that one cannot survive without the other.

REMY

Emile appears in Nice, squealing and jumping up and down.

“Hey!” Remy says warmly, hugging him; Emile’s joy is so infectious that Remy can feel Emile’s smile stretching across his own face. “What’s got you so happy?”

“They let him off!” Emile says exuberantly. “Rem, they let Remus off! Jay proved that they don’t have anything on him so Remus is free to go!”

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” Remy says, then, “wait, what was Remus under arrest for?”

“Oh, murder,” Emile says, waving that off, “but Jay proved that Remus was just joking when he was threatening him, so Remus got off! Oh my goodness, he’s out! He can finish his latest book! He can stay with Roman! Yay!”

“Yay,” Remy cheers weakly, wondering what the hell kind of cluster his boyfriend has birthed.

ROMAN

Roman drops a substantial amount of money on champagne on their drive home.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning a little bit, so Roman assumes that he’s happy about it. Or maybe he’s plotting how to ruin Roman’s possessions with champagne. One of the two.

Roman opens the door, balancing the champagne bottles in his arms, feeling a lot like he’s forgotten something. He drops his keys into the bowl on the entry table.

“Hey, Roman! Ooh, champagne—on a Tuesday? What, did you land a role with Guillermo del Toro?”

“God, I wish,” Roman says wistfully, then, oh shit I forgot to tell Sasha.

Sasha blinks a couple times before she stands up.

“Um, hey, sweetie,” she says. “Who’s your friend?”

Remus snorts loudly at the fake endearment.

“Um, Sasha,” Roman says, shutting the door behind him. “This is my twin brother, Remus.”

Sasha gawks at Remus. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”

Remus socks him in the shoulder so hard that Roman nearly drops the heavy glass champagne bottle. “You bitch, you said you’d tell her!”

“I forgot?” Roman says weakly.

“I have no idea how you put up with him,” Remus tells Sasha. “Is the convenience of a beard worth hearing him sing Disney in the shower?”

Sasha, looking a little startled that Remus knows the full truth of the deal Roman and her made, rebuts with, “

“Where have you been before this, anyway?” Sasha says.

“Oh, jail,” Remus says brightly.

“Oh, okay,” Sasha says, and, with a level of casualness that frankly stuns Roman, moves on to, “So, I’ve had a gripe with one of your books for forever.”

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t know you read his books,” Roman says, mystified.

“Yeah, I started back when I was doing that slasher pic a year and a half ago, you remember that?” Sasha says. “Helped me pick up on the internal life of a stalking victim. Anyways, the first book I read of yours—”

“Behind the Bushes, I’m guessing,” Remus says.

“Yeah!” Sasha says. “I super love that you subverted the expectations and the victim was the one that slaughtered the stalker, but I do think you could have carried through a threat she was considering through the book.”

“Which threat is that?” Remus says. “I write a lot of threats.”

“She should have castrated him,” Sasha says. “Duh.”

Remus looks at Sasha how an inventor might lovingly look at a device that finally works.

Roman groans, because he should have expected this outcome, and feared it.

“Oh, no,” Roman says. “You’re going to be friends.”

Sasha and Remus give him identical grins full of mischief.

LOGAN

Virgil appears sitting on the counter. Logan isn’t even fazed by the surprise of seeing him, although his heart rate does pick up a little.

Over the past few days, this is the way it’s been, between them; Logan suddenly finding himself looking over Virgil’s shoulder at his dinner when he’d meant to be looking at data charts, Virgil finding himself with handfuls of flowers in the face of the barren landscape of the Antarctic. 

Even when he isn’t actively visiting, Logan still feels that pull, his mind turning to Virgil at the oddest times of day. He tastes coffee when he should be drinking tea. He finds himself idly doodling South African native flora during dinner. He thinks Virgil might like this when he tries to read a novel during his relaxation times and wonders how best to explain the minutiae of his science to another scientist.

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil says, and Logan feels that thrill in his stomach again.

“Hello, Virgil,” he says, after making a show of turning on his Bluetooth, for the benefit of the other scientists in the lab. “How have you been today?”

“Pretty okay,” Virgil says. “My mom said she was gonna see if she could find any of the other sensates down here that my grandma knew, so I might be able to hear more about her cluster.” 

“Excellent!” Logan says. “Be sure to ask if they’re connected to the Archipelago?”

“You and that Neolithic Google,” Virgil says with a lopsided smile. “But, yeah. I’m being careful about it; I know not every sensate’s a great person to connect to. Ergo mom as a mediary.”

“A wise plan,” Logan says. “It does seem like a disadvantage that all that’s needed for a lifetime of connection is a singular instance of eye contact.”

“Maybe I should invest in a really good pair of blocking glasses,” Virgil teases, and he reaches over. Logan hadn’t even noticed they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose.

Virgil gently nudges Logan’s glasses back into place, his finger resting on Logan’s nose, and Logan’s mouth goes abruptly dry.

This might be the first time one of us has touched the other.

Logan tries to swallow, coughs a little bit, and says, “It could potentially be a wise investment, yes. I’d—um. I’d have to do more research into what exactly would suffice to block eye contact.”

“Yeah,” Virgil rasps, and he clears his throat, too. “Yeah, that’s probably, uh. That’s probably a good thing to ask Emile about.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, and he fruitlessly tries to refocus his attention on his research. He’s much too aware of Virgil’s eyes on him.

JANUS

Janus turns the phone over and over in his hands.

One last job, two more jobs, three more jobs…

He remembers getting arrested for the first time. He remembers the lawyer who got Janus out of it, pro bono, and managed to keep it off his record by the skin of his teeth. 

He thinks about representing Remus in the courtroom; he thinks about the state of his accounts; he thinks about how the threat of jail that Remus would have faced was what spooked him into pursuing a law degree in the first place.

He thinks about Remus and Roman, side-by-side in the courtroom; he thinks about Roman declaring that he doesn’t care if Remus killed him or not.

Roman is an idiot. An idealistic, loyal, altruistic idiot.

Janus is many things. He is not an idiot.

Key, scowling, sits across from him at the restaurant. Sriracha aioli, fried cod. Janus has been here a thousand times before.

He proffers the little box; Key takes it.

“This is my last job,” Janus says.

Key snorts. “I’ve heard that before.”

Janus hands him the burner phone, too.

“Oh shit,” Key says. “For real?”

“For real,” Janus reaffirms. 

“Shit,” Key mutters, sitting back against the booth. They stay quiet. A waitress drops off their meal. They stay quiet for a bit longer.

“Don’t suppose I can lure you back with money,” Key tries to joke.

“No,” Janus says. 

Key heaves a sigh. “All right. Well.”

He moves for his wallet, and Janus shakes his head.

“I’ve got lunch,” he says. “I can appreciate that I’m leaving you in the lurch for a computer guy.”

Key snorts and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Janus chews the inside of his lip. “If you ever need a lawyer…”

“Yeah,” Key says. He stands. “Yeah.”

Key leaves. Janus stays.

He’s been here a thousand times before. And yet.

PATTON

There’s a hint of spice in his mouth, and Patton rolls over in his bed to see Janus.

“I keep showing up when I should be sleeping, I think,” Patton muses, before he reaches out and takes one of the chips that Janus is neglecting.

Janus snorts. “Roman was stealing those the last time I was here. Perhaps you all keep showing up to eat my food.”

Patton smiles, dipping the chip in the sauce. “Maybe,” he says.

Janus exhales loudly, before he says, “I have a brother too.”

“Oh?” Patton asks, intrigued, and for a moment they’re in Patton’s bed, Patton lying down with his head propped up on his arm, Janus sitting uncomfortably at the corner.

“Unlike Remus, mine did it. Does it,” Janus amends.

Patton frowns. “That’s tough.”

“I did too, until,” Janus checks his watch. “Three minutes ago.”

Patton’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but that’s the only sign he shows. 

“It’s the reason I became a lawyer,” Janus says.

“Oh,” Patton says because that—that clicks. He doesn’t know Janus very well—he will, surely, but he doesn’t yet—but taking on the good-quality job of lawyer for self-protective reasons makes a lot of sense. Janus kind of seems like the type of person to not really want to rely on other people.

“So, I don’t,” Janus says, and he sighs again. “I’ve been chasing down just one more job for years and years, and now…”

“Now, you’re done, and you don’t really know what to do with yourself?” Patton asks sympathetically.

Janus nods and he drinks some of his Ribena. The fizz of blackcurrant condensation pops in Patton’s mouth.

“Can I offer some advice?” Patton says. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

Janus scoffs a little, but he gestures for Patton to go ahead.

Patton takes another chip. “There are a lot of other people who need a lawyer’s help to stay out of jail. Not just sets of brothers.”

He dips the chip, takes a bite, and is back in bed right as a thoughtful look dawns on Janus’s face.

REMUS

Roman’s fake girlfriend is delightful.

They spend almost the entirety of dinner talking about their favorite horror movies—Sasha is quite the aspiring scream queen in her career, so it makes sense that she’s studied the greats—to a point where Roman puts his hands over his ears and went “I can’t hear you, lalalalalalaLALALALALALALA—”

Truly excellent. Especially when Roman had screeched at the top of his lungs when Sasha had gone into an in-depth side tangent about the verity of the special effects of slitting throats in movies.

And now—

“Ooh, that was good!” Remus says eagerly, pointing at the Sasha in the little screen as she gets stabbed.

“Right?!” Sasha says, and they ooh! in unison as the movie gets increasingly bloodier.

“I hate you both,” Roman grouches from where he’s slouched between them, one hand covering his eyes.

Sasha ruffles his hair. “Go ahead and break up with me, then, I’m sure the press will get us both booked like crazy.”

Roman grumbles to himself, and Remus grins at Sasha over Roman’s head.

“If any of my shit gets adapted into movies, I’m absolutely gonna make sure you get cast into a leading role.”

Sasha grins back. “You’re the best fake brother-in-law I could ask for.”

⁂

Sasha is flopped out on the couch, asleep, as the credits of the movie roll in the background.

“Where is your nearest sharpie,” Remus asks, and Roman rolls his eyes, pulling Remus to his feet.

“Leave her alone, Freak-a Kahlo. I’ve got a spot set up for you to sleep.”

“But,” Remus whines, images of lewd drawings dancing in his head, but he allows Roman to pull him away anyway.

Roman has got a little cot set up for him in his room; it’s like they’re ten again, on a trip to see their abuela, except Remus can’t tackle him and wrestle him to the ground for the honor of sleeping on the bed.

Well, he could, but considering Roman posted Remus’s bail, he figures that roman could be allowed to sleep in his own bed.

All the same, it does give Remus a strange sense of deja vu of their (admittedly rare) family vacations; Roman brushes his teeth and does his extensive skincare routine in the bathroom first, then he cajoles Remus into handling his hygiene, please, they’re living together in the same room, eating soap didn’t exactly work to make Remus smell like a spring rose. To which Remus would usually rebut good, he doesn’t want to smell like a spring rose, he wants to smell like sewage, to which Roman goes ugh, how are we twins, how did two people so catastrophically different come out of the same womb, at the same time, to which Remus says it’s payback for stealing my dick in utero, to which Roman says that doesn’t even make any sense, it’s not like I have two, to which Remus says—

It’s a whole familiar argument, anyway. But Remus does at least dunk his head into Roman’s bathtub to get his hair sopping wet and swish around some mouthwash.

They’re both tucked into their blankets, and Remus is staring at the ceiling, wondering at the best ways to ruin Roman’s fancy linens. He thinks Roman’s fallen asleep until his voice pipes up.

“I’m glad you’re not rotting in jail.”

Remus ugly-snorts. “Yeah, I guess I am too.”

“Thanks to our weird psychic lawyer, anyway.”

“And your fuck-off big actor money,” Remus reminds him, rolling over to face him. The room is so dark that he can barely see the outline of Roman’s face. 

“Yeah, honestly, bribing the cops was going to be my next plan if you didn’t show up,” Roman says sleepily.

Remus grins at Roman in the dark. “I’ve been a fantastic influence on you.”

“Incorrect,” Roman grumbles.

“You’ll be watching slashers with Sasha and me in no time.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Roman says. 

“They’re inspiring!”

“Yeah, to you, Mr. Big Horror Novelist.”

“You know what else is big—”

“Ew! Ew ew ew, I know I set it up, but ew. No.”

“...This—”

“Remus, I’m kicking you out, I swear to God.”

“No, you’re not,” Remus sing-songs, “You were gonna bribe the cops, I’m holding this over your head forever.”

“I didn’t actually bribe the cops.”

“Yeah, but you were gonna,” Remus says. “Funnily enough, that seemed like the biggest case the cops had against me, too. That I was gonna.”

“I know you’re a horror writer, but I hope you don’t write about Miguel,” Roman says. “Might look a bit too If I Did It to the public.”

“Course not,” Remus says, his eyes slipping shut. 

“Good.”

“I’m going to be writing a book about murdering the cops.”

“Oh, much better,” Roman sighs.

VIRGIL

Virgil spits out his toothpaste into the sink and looks up into the mirror to see Logan in his reflection, his glasses off, a toothbrush in hand.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Virgil quips.

The Logan in his reflection smiles at him awkwardly around his toothbrush, blushes, then redirects his attention to finishing off brushing his teeth as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Virgil uses that time to wash his face; Logan follows not long after. Virgil gets a whiff of the facewash Logan is using; it smells rather nice, something floral.

They do their respective routines in companionable quiet; Logan, waking up for the day, and Virgil, about to go to sleep. 

“What’s on your agenda for the day?” Virgil asks, moisturizing his face.

“Research, research, and more research,” Logan says dryly, rubbing sunscreen onto his face. Their hands move in unison; moving in small circles on each cheek, up to the forehead, down the nose, the chin, down the neck. Mirror images, if not for their distinct physical differences.

“Probably should’ve guessed that,” Virgil says, rubbing the excess moisturizer into his forearms. 

“Oh, you missed—”

And suddenly, Logan is not just in his mirror, but in his bathroom, reaching out a hand to smooth some more moisturizer into his skin.

“Right here,” Logan says softly, his fingers gentle on Virgil’s cheekbone. Virgil barely even breathes as Logan smooths away the smear of moisturizer.

“There,” Logan murmurs, but he’s still cradling Virgil’s face.

“Thanks,” Virgil rasps.

Logan smiles at him, just a little. “You missed right there when we first met, too.”

“Did I really?” Virgil asks. He can barely focus on anything else except the cool smoothness of Logan’s hand.

“Mhm,” Logan says. “There I was, thinking I was going crazy, and there was this African man planting a jacaranda tree into the tile, with a smear of sunscreen on his face…”

“And I had this note-taking Pole talking to me about preferring if I were a hallucination,” Virgil says. “Telling me you’d ignore me if you saw me again.”

“And then I immediately started questioning you,” Logan says, smiling. “And…”

He trails off. His hand is still on Virgil’s face. Virgil is standing so stock-still he could probably turn into a scarecrow, if only for the virtue of keeping Logan’s hand on him.

“And then I kept feeling this pull,” Logan continues quietly, looking Virgil in the eyes. He isn’t wearing his glasses; there is nothing between Virgil and those bright blue, captivating eyes. “This pull to come to you.”

“Me too,” Virgil says softly.

Logan licks his lips. He says, softly, “I do wonder why it is us, that keep feeling this pull to each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Logan affirms quietly. “Maybe there’s that call to those similar that we theorized about, that day. Maybe that’s what fuels this connection. Whenever I learned something new, I flashed to you. Always to you. I’m not sure if we’ll ever find out why. Perhaps there’s a level of…”

A level of what, Virgil doesn’t know, because he leans in and kisses Logan.

Logan freezes, and, with anyone else, Virgil would panic and pull back, thinking he’d been presumptuous, but he abruptly feels a thrill in his stomach and a yes in hid mind that may as well be in Logan’s voice, and Virgil’s shoulders relax at the presence of it, of that pull between them finally being eased.

Virgil wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, and Logan’s arms twine around Virgil’s neck, and they kiss, continents and oceans apart, able to taste the minty toothpaste on each other’s breath.

[diavolodigitale]

Righteous Man's Choice

I just needed a way to rant about this goddamn quest that ruins the vicar’s personality, okay? I could’ve just complained somewhere in the comments but instead I chose to write a story that is 20 pages long. And you know what? It has romance in it just because. I didn’t even like Max that much, but my own fanfic changed my mind (now that I am typing it, I truly reazlize how ridiculous it sounds ). 

The events in the story are happening during and after the quest "The Empty Man".

Genres: romance, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, Flirting, Dialogue Heavy, Arguing, One Shot, Philosophy

Pairing: m!Captain/Vicar Max

Characters: m!Captain, vicar Max, Felix Millstone, Parvati Holcomb, Nyoka, Ellie Fenhill

Rating: M for Mexplicit language or something

Time span: SPORADIC MOVEMENT - before finding Reginald Chaney in Fallbrook ONE STEP AHEAD - still before DEVIL IN THE DETAIL - after dealing with Reginald AS THE TABLES TURN - immediately after the Vision Quest in the hermit's meditation chamber BATTLE FOR THE SUN - after you finish the quest TO ALL OF YOU - after you finish the quest

SPORADIC MOVEMENT

“Hey, Max, got a sec?” asked the captain, peeping into vicar’s room.

“Sure, captain. What is it?” said the vicar and put away the book he was perusing.

“In regards to that favor you asked of me…” began the captain awkwardly and stepped inside. “Since we’re almost done with it, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor in return. You know, to be even.”

“Whatever is on your mind.”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really. Just a dinner. With you.”

The vicar looked at the captain inquiringly while tapping with his fingers on the book cover.

“Am I to cook something or…?”

“Nope, don’t bother. I just wanted to spend some time together and maybe talk for a while. I like to know who I’m travelling with.”

“Quite a strange thing to ask for. Are all of your companions entitled for a dinner with you, captain?” asked Max with distrust.

“That’s actually the first time it crossed my mind. Consider yourself special,” mysteriously answered the captain of the Unreliable and smiled.

“Let me get this straight, I don’t want any misunderstandings to occur between us. I… am not interested in you, captain. In that way. Does that influence your decision?” said the vicar, remaining composed and calm.

“Not in the slightest. Frankly speaking, I feel like you’re not interested in any human beings, so I can’t say I didn’t expect this. Guess the cloth of yours gets in the way.”

“Your view of religion is quite obsolete. Having relationships has nothing to do with fulfilling the purpose the Grand Architect bestowed upon me. In other words, I can, I just don’t want to.”

“Well then, now I’m intrigued. My offer still stands, and I’ll be seeing you at seven.”

“Then it is set, it seems.”

“I expect you to know where my quarters are.”

  ONE STEP AHEAD

Vicar Max carefully knocked on the door to the captain’s quarters. He was wearing his everyday blue robe and comfortable shoes. Being always weighed down by the armor on the battlefield, aboard the ship he preferred to change into his old comfortable clothing.

A few seconds of silence passed, and he knocked again, this time with more resolve.

“Yes, yes, I can hear you!” rang captain’s voice from the inside of the room.

The vicar slightly opened the door and picked inside.

“May I come in?”

“Yeah, be my guest,” said the captain without turning around. “You’re just in time, I’m arranging the drinks. What do you prefer? Lager, whiskey, mockapple cider…

“Whiskey’s fine.”

“Will do,” said the captain of the Unreliable and poured the Iceberg Aged Whiskey into a glass half-filled with ice cubes. “I’ll have some cider, hope you don’t mind. I feel more confident when I’m only tipsy.”

“Sure. I’m used to drinking alone, so at this point any company is alright.”

“Hey, stop standing in the doorway, come in. You can sit on the bed. As you can see, there’s barely any other furniture in here. Try to make yourself at home though.”

“It’s been a long time since I felt that way. Thank you,” said the vicar and sat down on the edge of captain’s bed that in reality didn’t differ much from the one he had in his room. The captain awkwardly rushed to him and offered a glass of whiskey and a plate of food.

“Here, some fried raptidon meat and… whatever that is. You are free to refuse if you feel like, just remember that I did my best.”

“Thank you.” The vicar took the plate and sniffed the food. The smell wasn’t that bad. He moved sideways a bit to let the captain take a seat beside him. “Don’t consider me rude,” he said carefully, poking the meat on the plate with his fork, “but recently I realized I still don’t know your name. That is an awful omission, isn’t it?”

“I’m Alex Hawthorn, remember?” said the captain airily and drank out of his glass.

“I’ve heard of what happened to the person who bore that name previously, so in these circumstances that’s more of a title. What about your real name? You know mine, it’d be only fair if you told me yours.”

“I see, you can’t be fooled that easily. Then it’s Teru.”

Captain offered his hand to the vicar, so he had to put away the plate to shake it.

“That is a strange one, I must admit, Teru.”

“Isn’t your full name Maximillian?” spitefully mentioned the captain.

“Fair point.”

“It almost amazes me how easily you agree with me, but not with anybody else. That’s one of the things I like about you, by the way.”

“You make it sound like there are even more of them,” said the vicar and took a gulp of whiskey.

“Many more, indeed,” agreed the captain.

“Are you always so keen on strangers, young man? You barely know anything about me, and yet use any given occasion to throw compliments at me.”

“Not really. It only applies to you, vicar. Seems like something is drawing me to you, but I can’t yet figure out what.”

The vicar took notice of the distance between them. There was no more room to move away any further.

“Your words confuse me. Seems like we have already discussed the matter of attraction, and I politely declined whatever it is that you have to offer.”

The captain faced the vicar abruptly. Ice cubes in his glass clanked as he turned around.

“Hey, Max, can you take my confession now? There’s something that’s been bothering me for some time. I’d like to talk about it.”

“Why, of course, any time is fine. But only if it’s not your attempt to change the subject,” said Max strictly and shifted his gaze from the muddy liquid in his glass to captain’s face.

“Believe me, I didn’t even try. It’s just… I don’t like men as a rule, Max, but I like you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw myself at you,” —the captain lifted his hand as a sign of protest—“so we can have a few more drinks before you decide to leave.”

“Your sense of humor is tremendously bad,” hissed the vicar, clearly annoyed. He looked at the captain awaiting any reaction, but the latter didn’t say anything. “It sounds like nonsense, but I’ll believe you this time, be it your way. Although I must say, this being the truth, your taste is quite peculiar. Can’t think of anything you would find interesting in a man like me, especially considering the fact that I’m much older than you.”

“Actually, I’m more than 70 years older than all the crew aboard the Unreliable. Don’t forget about that,” jokingly retorted Teru.

“Ah, you talk of that nonsense again, how amusing. Still trying to persuade me you are one of the colonists from Hope? I hoped we were done with these delirious talks.”

“I would be glad if you trusted me, but if you don’t, it’s also fine, I don’t mind that,” said Teru, dramatically raising his hands. “Someday I’ll be able to prove you wrong, and if it’s not today, I’ll wait till the next opportunity.”

“I’ll be looking forward to that. But back to what I wanted to say. I just don’t quite understand your trail of thought. There are plenty of other people here who are more or less your age and who would be a better match. Take your new friend Felix, for instance.”

“What about him?” asked Teru right into the glass as he intended to drink. This made his voice sound distorted.

“He’s young and very, how do I put it… lively. I’m sure he shares a lot of your… views about societal matters.”

“Mhm,” briefly responded the captain, shaking up the pieces of ice left in the glass.

“What I’m trying to say is that Felix, as an example, of course, has a lot more in common with you and looks fairly good too, as far as I can judge. Why don’t you like him instead?” asked the vicar, his voice displaying sincere interest.

“Felix’s alright,” murmured Teru agreeingly after a short pause.

The conversation arrived at a dead end. Max sighed.

“It’s very obvious when you don’t want to talk about something, so I’ll just leave it for now. What about—”

“Why don’t you offer Ellie as an example?” interrupted Teru.

“Excuse me?”

“Ellie. I believe she’s also quite young and attractive. You don’t bring her up because she annoys the hell out of you, right?”

“Come to think of it… Maybe so,” agreed Max after considering it and made another big sip of whiskey.

“Then you’re not so goodwilled after all, vicar. You pretend to be the foul option and point fingers at those who are more “suitable”, nonetheless judging them by your own taste and not by how good it would be for me. You’re just turning it all around.”

Max furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, feeling the tension.

“You made your point clear, captain. Now we better stop discussing other crew members.”

“As you wish.”

“Only I have one more question before we completely abandon the topic of human relations if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah, why not.”

Teru put one leg on the bed beneath him, laid his head on his knee, and turned to face Max. The vicar felt quite uncomfortable being so openly stared at.

“Since we’ve established that you’re somehow interested in me, I can’t help myself but wonder… What is it that you like about me?”

“I like it when you lose your temper,” said captain and hid his smile behind the glass, sipping on the cider.

“Seriously? Out of all things?”

“Take it or leave it, vicar.”

“You have my skills, my knowledge and my experience at your disposal, and you pick this? Disappointing,” retorted the vicar and curled his lip.

“What can I say, call me a freak, but a day isn’t a day if I haven’t seen you being pissed off by something.”

“There is not a single thing about you that I understand.”

“The universe works in mysterious ways, Max.”

“So, you do listen to what I say after all,” sighed the vicar, thinking how not all hope was lost.

“Occasionally. Your voice is soothing enough when you’re not yelling.”

“Of that I haven’t heard.”

“Hey, Max, since I’ve answered your questions till now in all honesty, can I expect the same from you?” asked Teru suddenly twitching.

“I’m always honest, there’s no need to ask for that. What is it that you want?”

“Tell me, what do you like about me?”

“Argh…” The vicar rolled his eyes. “Look, I told you already, I have no interest whatsoever in you and alike. Your attempts are pointless and you’re wasting our time with this.”

“Relax, you made yourself quite clear. I just want you to give it a thought, maybe something will come up eventually,” light-heartedly said the captain, swinging the bottle of cider he intended to continue drinking from. “Just for fun. I know you find it infinitely hard, complimenting someone’s personality or decision making, so let’s just stop at appearance.”

“I don’t see what’s so fun about that, but alright. I still owe you, and it won’t be too much of a chore, so...”

“Watching you being obliging really is the best.”

“Can’t believe I’m still listening to this. It must be solely because I’m intrigued by your demeanor,” mumbled Max, irritated. “Being you must feel strange,” he added more calmly.

“Not particularly. Not stranger than being a renegade vicar, I’m sure.”

“I am not a renegade!” yelled the vicar, getting agitated.

“Not yet, not until we’ve translated your little book. Till then you’re just a grumpy middle-aged preacher.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, I told you,” cursed the vicar and drank all the whiskey left in his glass to deal with his resentment. “Never say that fucking word. I would be glad if I could educate your stupid little bunch, only seems you all here are quite far from the point of rescuing, so bearing that name makes no sense to me.”

“Remembering what you told me about your flock in Edgewater, I’m not surprised. You don’t seem like the type of guy who would go to any length to bring enlightenment to the masses. What’s your part in the Grand Plan then?”

“That is yet to be uncovered. If solving the Universal Equation was that easy, I wouldn’t be here travelling with annoying callow youth to find someone who can translate me a damn book that can easily get me in jail. Again.”

“So, now you finally admit that it’s totally illegal and previously you also served your sentence for being involved with heresy?”

“No, I do not,” snapped Max.

“As expected. You can deny it all you want, I’ve already cracked you, vicar. You were a tough cookie, but I’ve beaten worse. Both figuratively and literally.”

“It’s curious how you claim to read people well, and yet have the worst crew possible, assembled by non-other than yourself. A compulsive drinker, an immature idiot, a rusty bucket of circuits and nails, a vexatious space pirate, an empty-headed engineer and, last but not least, me. What on Earth made you take me aboard, captain?”

“Oh, the first time I heard you swear, I immediately knew we would get along well. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Besides, how could I refuse when you were the one asking to join me.”

“There’s no way for me to understand you, captain, but it’s probably for the best,” said Max thoughtfully. “I like this change of decorations. I think, it’ll help me after a few years of dragging my existence in that shithole people call a colony. I’m glad to be here, with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

The vicar smirked and filled his now empty glass from a bottle helpfully put beside the bed by the captain some time ago.

Their talk continued till the early morning. The food was left untouched and cold.

        DEVIL IN THE DETAIL

“Captain, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. It’s about Fallbrook,” said the vicar decisively, stumbling into the captain in the corridor.

“Oh, go on, I’m so anxious to hear what you have to say about it.”

“I wanted to apologize,” said Max and looked away. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just… really wanted to get this over with and was ready to do whatever it would take. I thought that only by using you I could get to Reginald.”

“I’m not offended or anything, you use or you’re being used, yadda yadda. I just can’t wrap my head around why you wouldn’t explain everything to me later. I mean, I offered you my help even before knowing about Chaney. I learned everything later anyway,” said Teru at a loss.

“I wasn’t considering it would go this far. Frankly speaking, I didn’t even believe we would find him, but you surpassed my expectations,” said the vicar and smiled bitterly.

“Would you look at that, you can say that, too. I only had to let you murder your former inmate.”

“About that… Seems like I got a bit carried away, captain. I appreciate you not intervening, but something tells me I shouldn’t have given in to that rage.”

“I must disagree. You always hold back, but how do you know it’s the right thing to do?”

“My teaching values patience and striving for self-improvement. The goal of our whole existence is to reach enlightenment and realization of how the Universe works, to solve the Equation that sets it into motion. I don’t think it’s possible to achieve that by eradicating all the people you can’t stand. Just can’t help myself.”

“But you have doubts about your teaching, you look for answers beyond the scope of its knowledge, that’s exactly why we’re doing this whole thing. According to your religion, if your choice was incorrect, the Universe would bring you back to where you belong. The lesson the life would teach you might be harsh, but it’s whatever,” said the captain and vaguely waved his hand. “You were angry and did what you thought was right, I’d do the same if I were you.”

“You merely don’t understand how important it is for me, captain. I was hoping I’d finally found my way. I made enough mistakes in my life, so now every one of them counts. That’s why this situation gets on my nerves.”

“Then I’ll share the burden of your blame,” said the captain, as if it was nothing special for him, “after all, it was me who didn’t stop you. In addition, if your Architect came up with a plan for your life and didn’t even bother to inform you about what you should do, then mistakes are inevitable.”

The vicar hemmed and crossed his arms on his chest.

“I’ve noticed some time ago that you’ve got a habit of saying what people want to hear. Do you even have your own opinion, captain?”

“What makes you think it’s not my opinion?” asked the captain, surprised.

Parvati walked past them and greeted them uncertainly, scared by sudden silence that filled the place with her arrival. The vicar waited for her to disappear behind the corner before answering.

“From time to time I hear bits and pieces of your conversations with other crew members. No matter the circumstances, you always have something consolatory to say. The explanation that I find the most plausible is that you chose bouncing from one opinion to the other as your primary tactics. Speaking with the member of the Board, you tend to agree with their regime, speaking with the iconoclast, you support their ignorance... But what do you have in mind? It always interested me.”

“How did I manage to take such a sly-boots aboard my ship?” wondered the captain with a slight note of approval in his voice. “But, on the other hand, I find it pleasant that now you pay more attention to me.”

“Don’t change the subject, captain, I know it’s also a means of manipulation you enjoy resorting to.”

“There’s simply not much to say here. I go for the better outcome, but if something is against my principles, there’s no way I’m going to do or say that. Is that a good answer?”

“As good as any,” nodded the vicar agreeingly, satisfied with rare display of captain’s sincerity.

“Great to hear that. Did you mull over the thing we discussed?”

“Yes,” nodded Max again, now becoming more tense.

“What’s you answer then? Just don’t tell me you didn’t come up with anything, ‘cause there’s no way I’ll believe that, vicar.”

The vicar dithered a bit before forcing the sounds to come out of his throat.

“Perhaps, I could say that I like… I like your hands. Let it be so.”

Teru’s eyes flickered and he clapped in awe.

“Really? How did you realize that?”

The vicar rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, annoyed that he had to elaborate on the subject.

“I was just watching you, as always. You were picking a door lock and I happened to notice that your hands were extremely elegant and dexterous. For a brigand.”

“Oh, yeah, I had the feeling you like it when I do that,” said Teru complacently. “Are you bewitched by me already?”

Parvati wanted to return to her room, but seeing the captain and the vicar still standing in the corridor made her reconsider. She thought that her business could wait and decided to make her way back to where she came from.

“I wouldn’t say so. It’s just… hard not to pay attention when you use the lockpick so skillfully. I never succeeded in it,” said Max with detachment in his tone.

“Despite that, I still like your hands as well.”

The vicar spread the fingers on his right hand out in a fan and carefully examined them.

“But there’s nothing special about them.”

“They are strong, stronger than mine. Enough of a reason for me.”

“I used to play tossball when I se… was assigned as a vicar to a prison,” said Max, a little confused and not knowing how to react to captain’s words.

“I remember you mentioning that. Did you know that I used to be the token of the team? What a coincidence, right?”

“Yes, what were the odds…”

“I like holding on to your hand when you’re helping me get up after I fall down as I tend to do sometimes,” said the captain in a soft voice, squinting a bit. A sly smirk slowly appeared on his lips. “Actually, I like it so much, that at times I have to be even more clumsy than usual, just to experience it once more.”

“Are you being serious, captain?” asked the vicar, perplexed.

“Do I look like I’m joking? You know what I’m capable of, what’s with all the amazement,” said the captain and hemmed. “And don’t you worry, right now I’m saying exactly what I wanted to say,” he added with the same sly smirk.

“You are so persistent, even though I already told you I have no interest in close relations,” said Max, pretentiously irritated. “I wouldn’t want you to waste your time on some old vicar.”

“Well, you noticed me, that’s a good start. You observed me so closely, in fact, that you already know me better than any other person on the Unreliable, so I’m definitely not the one wasting my time here. And you’re not as old as you want me to think, I know that for a fact. Do you have any other objections?”

“…No, captain, I don’t,” said Max to mitigate further arguments.

“And stop calling me captain, I don’t even navigate the ship. Did you ask my name never to use it after that? That would be typical of you, Max.”

  AS THE TABLES TURN

“What… what happened? I feel like my brains are leaking out…”

Teru scratched the back of his head and looked around. They were still in hermit’s closet and the air was stiff from incenses.  

“You passed out, captain,” said the vicar worriedly while squatting down beside him. “Felix and I here were really worried. Are you feeling well?”

“Yes, of course, everything went just as I planned, under my control.” The captain of the Unreliable stood up and leaned on the wall to keep his balance. “And how are you? The things they said… I can’t imagine what’s going through your head after that.”

“I feel like a new man, actually. Now, thanks to their exhortations, everything makes sense to me,” stated the vicar, being unbelievably calm. Teru looked at him distrustfully. For him, it wasn’t a healthy reaction of a person whose whole life was called pretentious and illusory.

“And you got the answers to your questions? You look kinda weird,” he said, not quite sure of what to make of vicar’s state of mind.

“I don’t need those answers anymore,” confessed Max. “Instead, I finally realized that the questions I asked were wrong to begin with.”

Teru had never seen his face being so peaceful. In any other circumstances vicar’s words would make him happy, but his current behavior seemed too unnatural and at times even intimidating.

“Wait, are you saying… that you now agree with them? But that’s just bullshit!” retorted Teru.

“Captain, you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” said Max and smiled encouragingly in an attempt to make the captain calm down. “I know, I gave you all a hard time, but from now on it’s going to be different. My behavior was unacceptable, and you are the first one whom I want to ask for forgiveness for that.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? What hard time?”

“My inclination to “violent enthusiasm” made me look like a madman quite a few times. I was foolish enough to consider everyone around me responsible for my sorrows, and it made me even angrier. But now I can see quite clearly, that there was no destination from the start. The world does not obey any laws at all, so what I did my whole life was pointless. Realizing that… brought me peace of mind,” said Max unhurriedly and smiled softly.

“I don’t even know what makes me feel worse, these terrible drugs or your delirious rambling. Stop it,” snarled the captain, not wanting to accept the changes in his companion’s worldview.

“That’s exactly what I said. Now he’s even weirder than he used to be, it freaks me out,” added Felix from the corner he was resting in. “It’s good that you’re back with us, cap, ‘cause being here with him was just… ugh.”

“You’ll need some time to get used to it,” said the vicar, still smiling tranquilly. “I’m sure, you’ll be much better off without my lectures about the Universal Equation and other religious dogmas.”

“What do you mean by that? Are you leaving or what?” asked the captain with apprehension. His eyes bugged out as he was staring at the vicar.

“Only if you want me to. Right now, I’m only saying that I’m no longer a vicar of the Order of Scientific Inquiry. Luckily, that time in my life came to an end.”

“Because you smoked weed and your hallucination lectured you for living your life in a wrong way?” yelled captain instead of asking.

“That’s not what I…”

“It is, Max. I’m in no mood to continue listening to this. See you outside.”

Teru made an effort to push himself away from the wall, and, declining the hand the vicar offered to help, left the room. Without saying anything, Felix followed him, leaving Max alone in the grip of his contemplations.

BATTLE FOR THE SUN

Carrying a bottle of mockapple cider in one hand and all his courage in the other, vicar Max approached the door to captain’s quarters. He took a deep breath and knocked.

There was silence.

He knocked again. Silence once more.

“Captain, may I come in?” he asked, drawing his face closer to the door crack for his voice to reach Teru.

There was no answer.

The vicar tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle. A tiny bit of light could be seen under the door.

“I’m entering,” he said briefly and opened the door.

The captain was sitting at his table, right in front of the huge window with a view over the vast abyss of space. He was wearing his reading glasses and holding a newly found datapad with the information about the Board’s plans.

“Am I interfering?” asked the vicar, closing the door behind him.

“Huh?” The captain turned around and looked at him inquiringly, but almost immediately after that returned to examining the datapad. “No, it’s fine. Is it something urgent?”

“I wouldn’t say so. I just wanted to thank you for your help,” said the vicar, not yet venturing further into the room.

“No need for that,” snapped back Teru.

“I disagree. You went through a lot of trouble to fulfil my selfish wish, so gratitude is the least you deserve after that,” pushed the vicar. His hand was still holding tight onto the bottle.

“Don’t mind it. You weren’t a burden for me or anything… I helped because I wanted to, so you don’t owe me anything. Since your search is over now, you can leave the ship whenever you feel necessary. After all, you got what you joined us for,” slowly said the captain, not averting his attention from reading.

Something snapped in vicar’s head. For him it turned out to be the last straw.

“Right,” he muttered and slammed the bottle onto the tray with other spirits, “Grand Architect knows, that’s not how I hoped it would go. But you want it the hard way, don’t you.”

“What are you—” The captain made an attempt to ask a question, but Max was already behind his chair. Gripping tight to the collar of his dressing gown, the vicar pulled him closer, forcing him to get up from the chair. The moment the captain of the Unreliable stood up, Max pushed him to the table, still holding him by the collar and now blocking his way out.

“You piss me off so fucking much, captain, I can’t stand it. I’m trying to become a better person, and you sit here in your quarters all offended and resentful and ignore my presence,” he hissed.

“So why did you come here in the first place if I piss you off so much?” maliciously asked the captain, leaning on the table behind him.

“I thought you’d want another favor for helping me. So, I decided to take the lead.”

“I don’t need anything, vicar, thank you for worrying,” reluctantly said the captain and turned away.

Having a hard time holding back, Max shook the captain by his collar and gritted his teeth. The leg he moved forward wasn’t letting Teru move an inch.

“On the second thought though, I’d really like to know where these sudden changes in behavior came from,” said the captain, looking up at the vicar. “I could swear you were a new man, and there was no way I’d see these fits of rage again.”

“And what’s your take on this?” angrily asked Max, with no intention to wait for an answer. “I thought it was obvious that a regular trip couldn’t change a person so drastically. I wanted to grow, but, as you can see, I failed. And it’s your fault, Teru.”

“Is it my fault because I told you to embrace yourself and not look for excuses? Or because I wanted to support you in your endeavors? Go on”—the captain shook his head with the air of defiance—“I’m listening.”

“It’s your fault because you…”—the vicar tightened his grip on captain’s collar and tried to gather his thoughts—“diminished my confidence. I thought, my place in the Universe was predetermined, but you made me doubt it. And I fucking hate having doubts. My whole life consists of doubting, and instead of making some of them go away, you just made it worse. What I heard in that room made me think, what if I was wrong all along? That was the only adequate reason why I was in such a state. Perhaps, my destiny is simply my fantasy. In your opinion, captain, what’s then?”

“Then you’re here ‘cause you wanted to be here, vicar. If it wasn’t the Universe that put this damn robe on you, then you did yourself. You didn’t want to be an average worker, and neither did I and many others, so you chose what you saw best. Is it really so hard to realize?”

“But if there’s no Grand Plan, what’s the point? Why would I be who I am if I’m not doing it for some greater good? If the world is just chaos, and not order, as I assumed… Simply agreeing that I was wrong wasn’t the hard part. It spared me from my eternal tormenting. Realizing how it all works, however…”

“You’re making me go insane. Let go of me, my back hurts from standing like this,” said the captain, and the vicar released him from his grip. Teru jumped up on the table behind him and made himself comfortable. “If you want to know my opinion, I don’t think that our complex world could appear from chaos out of sheer luck, I think there’s more to it than that. If you Equation does exist then it’s obvious that the Universe doesn’t do anything to snap you out of the place you’re in now, so let’s assume that you really are a vicar and you’re aim is to carry the “light of truth”. Who cares if your order is a tool of corporate supremacy, we’ve seen worse, that’s not the point here. It’s not what they tell you to think that is important, but how you interpret your teaching. Maybe this religion is far from perfect, but do the words about survival of the fittest or science being the moving force of progress sound nonsensical to you? It gets something right, but getting to the bottom of everything else is your job. If you stop doubting everything you know, rummaging in heretical works so selflessly and adapting it all to your vision, then who’s gonna do it?” The captain adjusted the glasses on his nose and paused for a few seconds. “Do you even get what I’m saying? I already feel confused by my own words.”

“It all sounds much simpler when you put it that way,” said the vicar broodingly.

“There’s nothing complicated about it. If the world were just chaos, our existence would be meaningless, and that’s the last thing I would want. There’s nothing wrong with finding the meaning in not in pointless wandering but in reaching some better purpose. You’re the one who always goes on about how the Plan includes numerous possibilities and ways, so sooner or later you’ll arrive at your destination point. Who even cares, Max. You’re not in the house of your laborer parents, not in Edgewater, not in prison, you’re on my ship so you can do whatever you want, just, for Universe’s sake, stop being a creep. Curse and resent like you used to do or, I swear, I’ll kick you out. I want to see adequate human emotions, not an android with a circuit for a brain.”

The vicar let out a chuckle, but then immediately asserted himself under captain’s gaze. Having his reading glasses on, he looked almost serious.

“And what better purpose does the captain have?” asked Max.

“Right now, my better purpose is finding a better purpose,” said the captain proudly. The vicar still looked to him as though something troubled him and it made the captain feel uneasy. “There’s something else that’s bothering you, isn’t it? What I told you. What’s on your mind? This time I’ll take your confession. Come on, I swear not to let anybody in on what you say, etc., etc.”

“I’ll be honest, when you told me you liked me, I was flattered,” answered the vicar.

“…and then you realized that you loved me all along?” giggled the captain.

“No, thanks the Grand Architect, that’s not what happened,” said the vicar, rolling his eyes.

“Good. It would be extremely boring. So, what about now? I bet you’re scared that I’d want something from you for my help.”

“Don’t say it like you’re in the position to make me do something I don’t want to. We’re all grownups here, and we all know who’s stronger.”

“Oh, seems like you weren’t being bitter about our age difference right now. Missed opportunity.”

The vicar pursed his lips and disapprovingly glanced upon the captain sitting in front of him.

“To cut the long story short, I didn’t intend to react to your words in any way. But your idiotic strategy worked after all,” said the vicar and sighed tiredly.

“I don’t remember having any strategy. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t need to do anything special. I just did what you told me to – looked closer. And it was enough for me to realize… that there’s no place for you in my life.”

Vicar’s last words sounded a bit threateningly. It made Teru fidget on the table.

“Eh, seems like we’re straying further and further away from the topic, don’t you think?” he mumbled uncertainly.

“Shut up and listen,” said the vicar forcefully, “I hate being interrupted. I knew immediately, my destination did not allow for you to be a part of my life. My problems could not be solved and it drove me mad, especially when you were sticking out like a sore thumb all the time.”

“What a shame,” mumbled Teru quietly.

“And now you have also become an obstruction on my way to self-improvement. Because of you I’m getting angry all the time, and the Universe is once again full of enigmas I was so close to solving. The only conclusion that can be drawn from all this is that you have to be punished for what you did.”

Carefully yet confidently the vicar laid his hand on captain’s knee. His eyes were closely observing the facial expression of that one in front of him.

“I feel like this talk dragged on for too long. At which point of the confession is it already considered acceptable to move on to drinking?” asked the captain carelessly, casting a sidelong look at the cider bottle and intentionally ignoring what was happening.

“How fucking annoying can you be,” retorted the vicar spitefully, violently grabbed the captain by his chin and pulled his face closer. “It would be only fair if you had to tolerate the way you made me be.”

“Hey, you were already like this when we met,” chortled Teru a few millimeters away from Max’s face. “It’s not fa—”

The vicar knew exactly what he wanted to say so considered letting him finish the phrase a waste of time. Not trying to hold back, he moved closer and kissed the captain, gripping his thigh tightly. Even applying all the strength he had, the captain wouldn’t be able to resists Max’s drive. Instead, relieved to know that the vicar remained the person he wanted him to be, he gave in to the opportunity, locked his hands behind his back and let out a loud breath.

The vicar heard the pulsation in his ears and felt it was hard for him to think straight. He opened his eyes a bit in an attempt to regain the composure. Right in front of him the captain was squeezing his eyes shut behind the barrier of his reading glasses. Smirking, Max stroked his thigh lightly before reaching out and taking the glasses off. They already left red markings on the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve noticed that after you claimed to be interested in me,” started the vicar, moving away from Teru’s face, “you stopped flirting with every other stranger.”

“Did I do that?”

“You have the courage to look me in the eyes and ask such a question? Don’t try to provoke me, young man. In every colony there was at least a dozen people you would flirt with.”

“Did that irritate you?”

“It didn’t. But now if I think of it, I get the urge to put a leash on you,” said the vicar, perhaps, more seriously than he should’ve.

“Like on an animal?”

“Indeed.”

“You know, Max, it’s ironical how the only animal here is you. Look,”—Teru gripped his lower lip and turned it inside out—“you were so brutal that now my lip’s bleeding. What are you going to do about that?”

“You can always ask Ellie for help. She’s a medic after all,” mused Max, pressing on the wounded lip with his finger.

“Something tells me that if I do that, I’ll get in a more serious trouble than this.”

“You’re quite a fast learner, captain. Don’t do anything to enrage the beast and you’ll be fine,” said Max and smirked.

The captain grinned and leaned back on his elbows.

“So… got any plans for tonight?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I was… thinking about moving somewhere more comfortable. The bed would do nicely.”

Teru raised his eyebrows in surprise and sent a long glance at the vicar.

“My weak knee is at it again.”

“You really are o—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

  TO ALL OF YOU

Felix entered the kitchen in search of some lager left and forgotten in the fridge. Most of the crew gathered there, looking for some ways to spend their free time, but the atmosphere seemed different from usual. At the table in the center of the room the vicar and the captain were sitting and discussing something.

“Max, I got a little problem, just don’t get all riled up. This thing… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the captain and pouted.

“Are you fucking pulling my leg right now? We’ve been on it for half an hour and I’ve already explained it to you twice,” growled the vicar at him and landed his hand on the open book laying between them.

“Yeah, well, would you be so kind as to do it again? I promise to try harder.”

Everybody in the room held their breath, awaiting the catastrophe. The vicar sighed.

“Okay, listen here. When we speak about…”

Everybody remained still.

“Oh, wow,” mumbled Parvati.

“Oh, wow,” echoed Felix, having forgotten the reason he came here for.  

“I didn’t even know there was such an option,” went on Parvati with an upset expression on her face.  

“Does this mean he’s finally sane and I can persuade him that Backers are better than Darlings?” asked Felix anticipatingly. The question was most likely not directed at anybody in particular.  

“No, honey, I believe this new privilege is unlocked only by our captain,” said Nyoka and thrusted a bottle of lager upon him.

“You know what they say,” said Ellie, strolling past them, “if a man’s being a dick all the time, he just needs to get…”

“Ellie!” yelled Nyoka, covering Parvati’s ears with her hands.

“Oh, no… now the mental picture of it will haunt me forever,” complained Felix and drank out of his bottle while staring blankly in front of himself.

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Lil headcannons for a colours soulmate au in which the S1 finale wasn't the first time Hamish had been hit in the face with the powder. Because why not? This version of the colours is the one where you can only see varying shades of the colour of your soulmate's eyes. Because why not?

Here is part two, as promised

To everyone who knows Vera on any level, she hasn't changed a bit. Okay, maybe she's a little bit more sharp now and then and she gets a little testy whenever it rains. But maybe that's just the stress of being Grand Magus, and Temple Magus, and Chancellor of Belgrave setting in.

When she's alone at home, Vera stays up late into the night, wondering if she made the right decisions. She falls asleep in Hamish's jacket often.

The jacket is completely worn through now, the suede verging on ruined again. But she doesn't want to make back to brand new again nor does she ever want to get rid of it. It's quite literally that last bit of Hamish -- her Hamish -- that she has left.

She tells herself that it's for the best. If the Knights remained active, the Order would pursue them to the ends of the earth. But you have a seat of power almost all disciples would die for, that inner voice says, you can turn the Order around.

"They're our enemies." "But they don't know that." Well ok fine but I'm also deathly afraid of seeing Hamish's face again so let's not talk about this ever.

Eventually, logic trumps all else and Vera agrees to induct the Knights.

When Alyssa returns their memories, Jack is consumed by rage and hatred. Hamish wants to feel the same, he wants to be burned bitter by the betrayal, but he can't.

"Secrets are terrible things. They ruin the best of things and can break down nearly everything."

"I love you."

Hamish understands Randall's apprehension, Lilith's disgust and Jack's rage. He wants to say he feels the same. But all he feels his confusion. All he thinks about is the day he watched Vera leave.

Who's jacket had she been wearing?

Hamish runs his thumb over the letter hanging from the chain before tucking it under his new Order robes.

Did the necklace belong ..... to Vera? Because he knows it isn't his and he found it right where he'd fallen.

What the fuck is in Hamish's head on repeat for the entire evening.

"If you're going to stand there, at least make yourself useful." While Vera congratulates herself on her ability to appear as normal in front of Hamish, Hamish studies Vera as he passes her a drink. The same drink he'd watched her make back in the den.

Vera is momentarily distracted by the taste of the drink in her hand.

"Drinks are an art form, V, which means I can make whatever I want with justifiable reasoning." Laughter echoes. "And what are you calling this drink? It's a bit . . . harsh for all your old suggestions." "I'm thinking something along the lines of Vera."

"Are you calling me harsh?!" "I would never!" Pure, unfiltered joy echoes through the entire apartment.

"Magus?" Hamish's voice brings Vera back to the present. "Mingle, Acolyte. It's your party, after all."

Hamish reluctantly leaves the bar. He wants to stand there longer and study Vera -- maybe some of his questions will get answered.

"Drink it all in one go or your brain will shrivel up to the size of a raisin." "Bottoms up."

Suddenly, Hamish can recall his high school locker combination. Lilith is talking about some childhood fear, Randall's complaining about a retainer, Jack's crying about a tattoo -- frankly, that part scared Hamish a little -- and then he's stunned into silence with the flood of memories.

And then he's as angry as Jack was. He's furious. But not at Vera for what she did. He's furious at her for not waiting. Waiting for him to respond, waiting to see if they could have made it work.

He's furious because now he'll never know if they could have avoided all the deaths between then and now. Maybe the Knights could have allied with the Order. Maybe the Knights could have weeded out all the bad magic in the Order. Maybe he and Vera could have done it together, made the Order what she said it could be, a secret society of magic practitioners that is dedicated to preserving and passing on the art of magic. So many maybes, so many what ifs.

A part of him wants to storm into the temple, into the reliquary and demand that Vera confess. The more rational part of him keeps him grounded to protect the fact that they have their memories.

He'd feel a little bad about planning to rob the Order blind if he wasn't so pissed at them for raiding the den. Thanks to Lilith's potion, Hamish is slowly developing burning rage at the idea of being betrayed by his own goddamn soulmate. As time passes, he's starting to forget that he used to understand her circumstances, her choices being bad or worse.

So when they come across Zecchia, he's ready for it without any hesitation.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Okay maybe a little hesitance. Just a little.

Hamish thinks it might have been a mistake when the news about Rogwan is delivered. He realises he's gone and royally fucked up on a Jack Morton level when they find out Zecchia robbed them.

"So, what's all this talk about wolves?"

Vera's too pissed with them to register the fact that Hamish has his memories (not all, though, right?) "Where is my inventory?"

"It was . . . stolen from us." "For fuck's sake, Hamish, can't you keep track of anything in that fucking apartment?" Randall: ( ͡° ʖ ͡°) (ಠ_ಠ) what the fuck is happening here 🙃 "I am seriously considering killing both of you." "Please don't." "SHUT UP"

Rogwan taking Hamish's fear could have been incredibly catastrophic if Vera had had her phone on her around the same time Hamish got his hands on money and a phone booth, even worse if she had answered any of those calls (though to be honest, she might just have been incredibly confused about it or more accurately, Hamish might not have even dialled her number properly)

Hamish standing at the phone booth with the dial tone while Randall repeatedly tries to climb a nearby tree: I know what you did, Vera Stone. You wicked witch with a cute butt. You jacket thief, alcohol thief, heart thief-- vest thief! + stupider and stupider things until Randall eventually gets his attention again.

"I give my life to the cause to protect the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose from threats both inside and out." "So . . . we're supposed to babysit the Grand Magus aka you?" Both Vera and Hamish shoot Jack a withering glare. Randall finds it funny and Jack is grateful for Randall.

"Is everyone okay?" Awww she cares. Stop smirking at her -- stop -- STOP IT, FACE!

As much as Hamish was internally laughing at Vera for her still harbouring her old feelings, Hamish realises that he hasn't forgotten his own instincts when it comes to Vera when he sees the Magistratus, Angus, charge at Vera.

He may have fucked several things up, but no one is allowed to harm Vera. Tundra is a Knight of the Blue Rose, but Hamish is Vera's -- it's not as if he'd have it any other way anyway.

Vera's pretty stressed, what with the impending end of the world. Hamish is waiting for Vera in the reliquary, having discovered something ... interesting about the Tartarus explosions.

"I got your text." Hamish stands, book in hand. "Yeah, I found -- . . . is wearing three different shades of black a conscious decision or--" "Shut up."

Hamish happily complies. Who cares what colours she's wearing when he's got her in his arms? For someone who doesn't like anyone kissing in the reliquary, Vera seems to be very unopposed to the idea when she and Hamish are the ones doing all the kissing.

Not that Hamish is complaining. He wouldn't ever want to stop Vera. "Wait -- wait, this isn't why I'm here." "Your text specifically said you had something big to show me." "I ... see how that can be misconstrued."

Vera glares. "Make it quick, I'm busy."

"Tease," Hamish mutters with a grin before delving into the very solid fact that the world is going to end.

"The council wouldn't listen to reason so . . . I gave them fear. Stopping Praxis is the only way to stopping these eruptions." "Or is it the only option you'll consider?" The glass hits the table hard. Hamish is beyond pissed, but he's not sure at what. Vera is clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps he should let her know about his first clash with pulveris memoria

"They're asking for something I can't give them." "Or won't." He knows he's being difficult but he doesn't feel guilty about it at all. He's still mildly miffed that Vera didn't think he could make the choice for himself on whether or not he wanted anything to do with the Order.

Of course, his entire demeanour changes when Alyssa shows up in the reliquary. He may be pissed and a little disappointed in Vera but that doesn't mean he's willing to let her stand in harm's way. And of course, Alyssa knocks him straight the fuck out. (I mean personally I don't like her but I have to admit, that was a smart move)

I can't fucking remember how the scene goes word-for-word but you all know it.

Hamish wakes with the gripping fear that Vera is hurt or worse, dead. As soon as he sees Vera though, he's incredibly calmer. She seems okay. She's alive.

"She took your magic." Honestly, it could have been worse. It really could have been a lot worse. But he doesn't say so because he knows magic is something that is important to Vera and he knows that she's fucking terrified -- even if she won't say.

"I imagine she, like you, finds me a selfish woman." "Vera, I don't think you're selfish. You're demanding and ... weirdly ticklish, but not selfish."

Vera thinks about all that she's put Hamish alone through. She has very many a regret in her life, but Hamish somehow seems to dominate that lost. "How can you be so sure?" "Because of all the times you could have killed the Knights but you didn't, because you wanted th-- us to live. To learn."

It's a little hard to separate Vera's soulmate from Tundra's champion, but Hamish does it. He's still a Knight, despite whatever feelings he and Vera might share. Both of them are him but not together. Not just yet.

"It's all right to let someone care about you, V." "You--" "You dropped this." Vera stands still as Hamish puts the chain over her own head. How long had he had all his memories? Said nothing? All this time, he'd kept his mouth shut -- was it for her sake? Old guilt creeps back into her.

"Maybe you are selfish, V, but not for all the reasons you think. Your selfish acts are always about protecting other people. Me, Jack, Alyssa, the Knights, the Order. Selfish doesn't mean evil."

"What's he doing here?" "We're not staying." "Yes, we are."

"No, you're not." "It's not safe." "I'm no threat to her."

Hamish really doesn't want to leave Vera alone with Alyssa. But she trusts herself so he'll trust her. Besides that, he still has to save Lilith.

When Hamish returns to the temple, chasing Midnight, Alyssa is dead and Vera is shaking.

"V, it's not your fault." How does he know exactly what she's thinking?

Hamish sets a drink, Vera's drink, in front of her and turns to leave. To give her space. To give her the choice. He drags his hand over hers. Do you want me to stay?

Vera makes no movement other than wrapping her fingers around Hamish's hand and holding fast. Yes.

And as he stands there and the doors to the reliquary closes, he glances down at Vera and realises that bad as things are, they could be worse. Vera tried so many times to push him away, but she's failed every time. And he's incredibly thankful for that.

Vera doesn't have her magic, but she's got all the colours in the world because of Hamish and somehow, that's so much more important to her.

Someone help me I'm Sad™ I wanna write this but like ,,,,, not as a full book because that would make me cry ,,,,, maybe like a nice collection of scenes 0.0 what do you think?

Take a look at other soulmate aus I've chosen to torment myself with

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

Lick

pairing: Lambert/Eskel rating: T warnings: slightly horny, nothin’ but kissies tho; tail-end of a discussion about stillbirth; so much Drunk

“I bet you’re good at kissing. Asshole. Stop being good at kissing. I want to kiss you now.”

I need love so I write Silly Boys, what’s new

~

Lambert knew Eskel was drunk, because Eskel wouldn’t stop touching him.

Eskel was not a hugger. None of them were, really. But when the older Witcher drank too much, he got clingy. And he’d always clung to Lambert.

At that moment, Eskel’s arms were wrapped loosely around Lambert’s waist and his head was leaning on Lambert’s shoulder at a frankly painful-looking angle. He had not moved from this position for an hour at the least. The younger Witcher didn’t want to jostle him too much, so he transferred his drunken energy to his other arm, which ended up knocking over his mug of ale.

“I’z, i’z not right!” Lambert repeated for the eighth time. “So what if she was married? The baby was dead in her belly, it was her right to remove it! Iz everyone else’z fault that she cursed the entire village!”

Geralt nodded solemnly and chugged the rest of his ale. He was drunk as fuck too, though, so he probably wasn’t listening. Probably pining over that bard. Again. Vesemir hadn’t drunk nearly as much as the boys, so Lambert turned his passionate rant to him.

“She w’s tod’ly within her rights to curse them like that! They’re the bastards who ruined her life! Ba’gmeup, Vesemir!”

“You’re right, Lambert,” Vesemir said. “That woman’s anger was justified. Perhaps you three should go to bed.”

“‘M not tired,” Lambert spat petulantly.

“If Jaskier were here he’d be on the floor and I’d have to drag him to his bed,” Geralt muttered, but he looked more sad and wistful than annoyed.

“Gods, just tell him you care for him, all your pining is stupid at this point!” Lambert forgot where Eskel was and tried to throw both of his hands in the air, which unbalanced them both, and they toppled backwards off the bench with yelps of pain.

Geralt laughed, the kind of amused, slightly taunting laugh he hadn’t given voice to for nearly ten years. Vesemir sighed. Lambert scowled at the ceiling, but he was too tired to move, all of a sudden. Eskel was very warm and comfortable, the tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. Very safe.

Lambert usually ignored the voice. But he didn’t want to bother right then. So he squirmed over until he was lying face-to-face with Eskel, one arm thrown over the bigger man’s bicep. Eskel himself was pouting in annoyance.

“You’re so squirmy,” he slurred. “Like a… like a ferret.”

“Yer too steady,” Lambert retorted. “Like a… a… a ferret that’s not squirmy.” It was possible Vesemir and Geralt were both snickering. But Lambert was a little busy staring at Eskel’s face, the blocky jaw and cheekbones, the strong nose, the full bottom lip, and the hazy eyes that made him think of honey and those yellow flowers that looked like long-muzzled things yelling. Dandelion? No, daffodil. Eskel’s eyes were like daffodils.

“Why are you staring?” Eskel asked.

“Your eyes are pretty,” Lambert answered.

Eskel frowned. “No they’re not.”

“Yes they are.”

“‘M not pretty.”

“Shut up, your eyes are pretty,” Lambert snapped. His annoyance rose again: how dare Eskel put himself down like this? “They’re like those yellow flowers, the, the daffodil flowers. And your face is pretty. You smile a lot and it shows. Your smile is pretty. Your mouth is pretty. I bet you’re good at kissing. Asshole. Stop being good at kissing. I want to kiss you now. I like your nose. It’s cute. You’re cute. I wanna kiss you.”

“Do it, coward,” Eskel said.

Lambert immediately tried to rise up on his elbow and lean over, but he had absolutely no coordination at that moment, so instead of leaning he just flailed a little until he was lying on top of Eskel. He grinned triumphantly at Eskel’s startled expression, and then kissed him.

It was awful, of course. Lambert was almost ashamed of how bad it was. Too much teeth and slobber, the most awkward angle possible, and they both tasted like White Gull and the venison they had for dinner. But also… Lambert quite liked the fact that he was kissing Eskel.

When he raised his head, his face felt as hot as a bake-oven. Eskel’s lips were parted, and as Lambert watched, the tip of his tongue poked out to lick said lips. How odd that Lambert’s entire body was burning up all of sudden.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered hoarsely. “It makes me want to kiss you again.”

Eskel grinned, and licked his lips again, making the single action more erotic than any striptease or foreplay. “Good,” he said, and oh, the rumble of his deep voice against Lambert’s chest was magnificent. “That was a shit kiss anyway. You’re terrible at this.”

“Shut up, asshole!”

It was at some point during their third kiss that Vesemir and Geralt hauled them to their feet and marched them upstairs. Lambert wanted to drag Eskel to his room, but instead Vesemir escorted him away, leaving Geralt to shove Lambert around.

Stepping into his cold, echoing bedroom made Lambert sad. He didn’t know why. He was sad and tired, and was not aware of how small his voice was when he asked Geralt, “Did I do something wrong?”

Geralt shook his head and squeezed Lambert's shoulder gently. “No. It’s just really late. You c’n kiss Eskel more later, but get some sleep now.”

Lambert nodded, and did notice how small and afraid he sounded when he asked, “Is Vesemir mad at me?”

Geralt pulled Lambert into the kind of hug that he only gave to younger Witchers who needed comfort, and said, “No, Lambert. He’s just cranky. You didn’t do anything bad. Can you drink some water? Good. Have some of that and lay down, even if you can’t sleep.”

Lambert did not bother protesting that he was fifty years old now, thank you very much, and knew exactly how to deal with a hangover. He just hugged back, and undressed, and drank water, and laid down, even though he couldn’t sleep.

He kept wondering if Eskel had liked kissing him.

~

In the hot springs the next morning, as the three younger Witchers were soaking and trying to ease their throbbing skulls, Lambert decided that he should ask about the whole… kissing situation.

But the moment he opened his mouth, Eskel rushed to say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Geralt snorted in amusement.

Lambert stared at Eskel, surprised. He very clearly remembered the sight of a rough pink tongue running along soft, thick lips, with the sole intention of making him kiss them. “I told you I’m no coward,” Lambert said, frowning. “Is it gonna stay a one-time thing? Or do you wanna try kissing sober?”

Eskel flushed and looked away, licking his lips nervously.

“I told you not to do that,” Lambert admonished him, as his heartbeat picked up.

Eskel smirked and looked up at him sideways. He seemed shy, but also eager. And then he very, very deliberately dragged the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, mouthing open just a little too wide to be at all innocent in any situation.

“Oh, you bastard!”

Geralt had to haul them out before they drowned with their mouths locked together.

[darknessisafriend]

Your only chance for hapiness Part2

Part 1 here !

It’s finally here after so much time, I finally wrote it, I hope you will enjoy it, a Part 3 is planned ^^ @forensic-aep​ second part of your request^^

After getting dressed, the two of you headed to the Saloon where was Eli and Mayfield. Adrenaline still running through your veins, you intended on making her pay, the people here will remember you and the Sisters Brothers.

“Eli!” called Charlie, looking around for his brother.

“Up there!” he answered back, the two of you quickly headed in the direction of his voice, up to the office of Mayfield, as you arrived you noticed that Eli had tied her to a chair, she didn’t seem afraid enough to your taste, wasn’t she aware of their reputation?

“Well, you two took your time!” grumbled Eli, you cleared your throat, images of what had happened in the barn coming back to your mind, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks.

“I had some important things to care of…” smirked Charlie, turning his head to look at you and winking, ‘the bastard’ you gave him a punch in the shoulder, flustered.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed exaggerating, Eli let out a noisy sigh, and he was right, you should be focusing on Mayfield, being lovebirds will be for later.

“So, did she say anything?” asked Charlie, leaning his back against the deck as he looked at Mayfield right in the eyes, but you could see it in her eyes she wasn’t afraid, not yet; she knew some men like Eli couldn’t bring themselves to hit a woman, so you took the initiative, throwing her a punch on the forehead  with the grip of your gun, she yelped with a mix of surprise and pain; Charlie whistled pleased by your gesture.

“She doesn’t deserve any special treatment Eli.” you told the older brother, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if she could, so he shouldn’t either.

“Oh my God, Warm told me he was looking for an investor for his prospection business, I didn’t get everything, I took him for an idiot but when I saw Morris, I told myself that if the Commodore was interested, it must have been serious...” Charlie went to sit behind the desk, looking in the drawers for objects of value.

“Did Morris leave a message for us?” asked Charlie.

“No... he traveled with Warm and that’s it.” She answered honestly.

“Oh really...” Charlie gave you and his brother a ‘I told you so’ look, you clenched your jaw, Morris turning is back on you wasn’t of good omen.

“Why did you want to kill us?” you asked her coming to stand next to Charlie, you stood close to him, you hip brushing against his shoulder, any notion of personal space was useless now, you felt Charlie, discreetly move his right arm, his hand coming to caress the back of your thigh, if he wasn’t doing business right now his hand would have went up to your ass, you actually found it quite exciting, to pretend like nothing was happening. With the other hand Charlie opened a music box that was in front of him, the nice lullaby contrasting with the whole situation

“I repeat, after, I start hitting.” threatened your lover.

“When I understood that Warm had something of value, I put my men after them, to bring it back to me…”

“You mean now there’s other guys after Warm?” cut off Eli with a hint of nervousness.

“Alright...very well Mayfield. You’re not gonna like what’s about to follow but that’s the price to pay when we meddle in our business...open your safe.” Ordered her Charlie mischievously.

“No... never.” you saw a sadistic smile form on Charlie’s lips, he truly had a problem with violence but for business you could accept it. So, he got up, his warm hand leaving your body to reach for his gun, he walked around the desk and directly pointed it at Mayfield’s temple, she jumped at the contact of the cold metal against her skin.

“Listen. Tell us how to open your safe or my partner here will blow your brain out with great pleasure.” you threatened her with a confident smile.

“Mayfield...” started Charlie, impatience growing inside him.

“You know...if you die right now, you won’t be just losing your fortune but also everything you’ve built here, your town, your men, your people...” you listed and it seemed to make her think, she was way too arrogant to let her small ounce of power crumble for a couple of objects of value.

“Alright, alright...the code is 7300956.” she finally said, Eli finally managed to open the safe, you smirked, it had been so easy to make her talk, you jumped as Charlie suddenly pulled the trigger.

“Was that really necessary?” you sighed, looking at her lifeless corpse.

“She could have sent other men after us, right Charlie?” replied Eli, his brother nodded as he went to look inside the safe; you nodded too they made sense; as your eyes saw what was inside the safe, you immediately forgot about the little annoyance you had, that Mayfield had gotten herself quite a treasure, with that you could live for several years without having to work!

“I’m gonna get our saddlebags.” you told them, quickly ruining to get this fortune out of the safe before the inhabitants came inside. With the two brothers, you did your best to share equally before heading to your horses.

“Y/N” called Charlie behind you as you were heading downstairs, you turned to listen to what he had to say, he held in his hand a silver necklace, with a small pendant made of diamond, a truly beautiful piece you had to admit.

“It would suit you.” he spoke with affection in his eyes, a small smile formed on your lips as you understood it was a gift from his own share, he put it in your hand and continued his way outside. Apparently public demonstration of affection wasn’t his thing but that, was a very romantic thing which you absolutely loved.

However, you were taken aback as you arrived outside to see the whole town looking at you and the brothers, they probably wanted to know what had happened.

“Find something to tell them.” Charlie said to you and his brother, why wasn’t he saying something?

“Well...something happened, hopefully you’ll be happy about it? And now...your turn to say something Eli” he looked at you, mouth agape, how dared you, you hid a smile, amused.  

“Following a series of dramatic events... for which she bears full responsibility...Mayfield’s dead!” you couldn’t help but chuckle, he had struggled so much to find something better to say.

“No, no! Not like that! Don’t you have something positive to say?” added Charlie as he climbed on his horse.

“Well, please do Charlie!” you replied arching an eyebrow at him.

“My partners and I have good news; you can change the name of your shit town!” he joked. Before giving a quick to his horse, you did the same galloping, in case the people would react badly, from afar you heard music, well apparently, they were happy, at least you did something good today.

You rode until the morning lights, you struggled to stay awake, thankfully your horse followed those of the brothers, you didn’t know how they could stay awake especially Charlie after drinking so much. Once again you felt your eyelids getting heavy, you will close your eyes just for a few seconds, wouldn’t hurt anyone; you didn’t realize your horse slowing down to stop and eat grass. But Eli, felt like something was different he didn’t hear your horse behind; he turned his head to see.

“Hey Charlie...” he started keeping his voice down.

“What?”

“We should stop for a bit; I think she’s tired.”

“Who are talking ab-” your lover stopped talking when he looked in the same direction as his brother, your horse was happily eating grass, while you were fully laying on its neck, soundly sleeping. Charlie let out a soften smile.

“Alright, we have to bury our pay anyway, should be good close to those woods.” he indicated with his index the forest a few hundreds of meters away. Eli went to pick up the reins of your horse to let you sleep. Charlie looked at you tenderly as they got closer to the woods, you were so beautiful when you were asleep, he could see himself wake up next to you every morning.

“Seems like things got settled between the two of you…” insinuated the older brother with a knowing smile.

“Yeah.”

“And?” pushed Eli, he was curious to know what had happened.

“None of your business bro.” answered Charlie avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“Oh really, so you can ask me about the stole I have but I can’t ask you about the woman you’re lovesick about!” argued Eli, annoyed.

“I’m not lovesick.” Objected Charlie irritated, why was Eli so inquisitive right now?!

“Yes, you are. Since you came back from wherever you two where, you have that big goofy grin on your face” Charlie’s hand went up to touch his face, was he being so obvious?! He got down of his horse.

“I don't have a big goofy grin....” he muttered, taking a tool to start digging a hole to bury his share and answers Eli inquiring on Warm.

While Eli continued to bury his share, Charlie went to you, you were still sleeping on your horse, he rested his arm on the neck of the animal and tenderly looked at your sleepy face, he almost felt bad that he had to wake you up. He quickly verified that Eli wasn’t looking at him, then, gently his thumb went to caress your cheek, you must have been exhausted not to jump awake, or maybe you just trusted them now. You groggily opened your eyes at the touch, you directly met Charlie’s green orbs, he was looking at you tenderly, a small smile playing on his mouth.

“Feels nice.” you murmured your voice hoarse with sleep. Your lover chuckled silently before leaning forward to kiss your lips, how good it felt when he kissed you, you lifted your hand to caress his jaw, however when your tongue went to tease his lips, he broke away from you.

“Not here sweetheart.” he told you, throwing glances at his brother to be sure he didn’t catch him. Frankly you didn’t understand why he wanted to hide your relationship, maybe he feared teasing from Eli but the man was the kindest you had ever met.

“I’ll remember that.” you flirted, rubbing your eyes; he grinned in return.

“C’mon you have to bury your share; I dug a hole for you. Then, we’ll eat and rest for a bit.” He explained, resisting the urge to kiss you again.

“Alright” you straightened up and got off your horse, your balance wasn’t at its best, so Charlie briefly caught you, his hand lingering on your back, you were craving to be in his arms, and he was too.

“Here.” he said gently, handing you a plate full of stew, your fingers touched his, you made eye contact with him, you both froze for a few seconds, the time in”the barn had been way too short, if you could simply kiss him or cuddle with him you’d be happy but Charlie was still reticent to show his affection for you publicly.

As you ate, Charlie kept looking at you achingly, until he couldn’t help but take one of your loose strands of hair to put it behind your ear, you looked at him with a small blush on your cheeks, he gave you a shy smile, you had to admit that it was quite a unique sight, Charlie being shy. On his side Eli hid a knowing smile, he was happy to see his brother care about someone and be tender.

Eli was soundly snoring after eating; and you weren’t against a nap either. Charlie was simply laying down, maintaining his gun. Yeah, a nap with him would be even better, you smirked as you approached him. As you sat down next to him, he watched you curiously. Then, you sat on top of him straddling his legs with yours, he quickly checked that his brother was asleep before smirking, you leaned forward to kiss his lips, he let go of his gun, his hands coming to caress your butt, you deepened the kiss, tasting the tabaco of the cigarette he had recently smoked, you smiled as his tongue joined yours, how bad you wished to go farther, but Eli was there and you were exhausted; at least this could help you to wait for more intimacy, so you broke the kiss and rest your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and sighting happily.

“What- hey I’m not your goddamn pillow!” whispered Charlie grumpily, you chuckled, he didn’t expect that.

“Not my fault if you’re warm and super comfortable...” you murmured, planting a kiss against his throat. He sighed in defeat, when you were asleep, his fingers went to trace circles on your back, it actually felt nice, to feel your heartbeat against his chest, and to have someone caring for him, even though he doubted you would protect him at any cost; maybe all of this was just an affair and when the job will be done, you will leave. He passed a hand on his eyes; he shouldn't think this way, and in any case, he had a good time with you.  

Of course, when he saw Eli starting to wake up, he pushed you off of him as gently as he could and got up pretending to tend of his horse. You opened you’re eyes groggily.

“What in the-” you muttered; it took you a bit of time to understand that Charlie had again hid his relationship from Eli. You sighed; it had been barely a few hours and it was already pissing you off, it was just his brother, nothing bad.

As you rode again, Charlie was ahead, you saw Eli coming closer to you, he looked upset.

“Did you know about the formula of Warm and the torture?” he asked with hint of anger in his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s also why I was teamed up with you two, torturing a good guy like Warm isn’t my thing, I don’t mind to do it on other criminals but that...I couldn't, the Commodore knew you wouldn’t mind; well Charlie doesn’t apparently” you looked at Eli, he seemed even more upset now.

“Wait, you mean you didn’t know about this?” you exclaimed, confused; Eli nodded.

“Charlie told me that the Commodore ordered him not to tell me, asshole.”

“It doesn’t make sense...” you wondered, you started thinking, it’s true that Charlie was enjoying violence, too much, he was enjoying killing; the opposite of Eli who only did it when it was necessary; could it be linked to their troubled childhood?

“You think the Commodore is using Charlie’s...trauma for his own ends? Like manipulating your brother?” you asked him in a murmur, worry growing in your chest.

“Well no- wait, now that you’re saying this it would actually make sense...fuck! if I could put a bullet in that bastard´s face right now...” cursed the older brother, hate filling his eyes.

“We’re stuck in this whole thing now; we have to finish the job-”

“But I don’t want Charlie to do this” objected Eli, you sighed, you had to find a way to prevent this from happening.

“And I don’t either. Look, I don’t know the full story but it seems Charlie went through some tough shit and he’s rooted deep into violence but torturing people will only drive him crazy, we have to do everything we can to make Warm talk without having Charlie to torture him.” You said upset.

“We can find a solution and help Charlie.” You appreciated Eli’s optimistic side.

“I hope so...I might sound stupid but I don’t want to lose him...” you confessed, voicing for the first time your feelings for him.

“You don’t sound stupid; you know it’s the first time I see him care about someone else than himself…I’d love it if you became part of the family, I’m sure my mama will love you too” you chuckled, it was a bit early to talk about such thing as marriage but it’s was nice to hear that.

“Thanks Eli, you’re sweet.” You smiled sincerely, looking at him in the eyes.

“Eli! Don't you have your teacher waiting for you?” called Charlie from afar, looking at the two of you.

“What the hell are talking about Charlie?” you couldn’t help but laugh, was Charlie really being jealous right now? That’s when Eli understood.

“Can’t even talk with my business partner anymore, you idiot.” grumbled the older brother.

And Charlie for the first time started to feel jealous and possessive over you. And he wasn’t able to resist the urge to touch you much longer, he was sick of waiting to be out of sight of his brother, he was an impulsive man, he didn’t like when something or someone resisted to his will. You were so addictive; he had never felt this before, and maybe he feared to lose you to someone else even his brother.

When you stopped for the night. You were all sitting around the fire; he scooted closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours; he gave his brother a look meaning ‘don’t you dare make a comment’, Charlie hated to show his vulnerability, he couldn't be vulnerable just like Eli, otherwise he would have never saved his mother from his dad. Eli shook his head in annoyance, Charlie was being so silly right now.

You were reading your book, and ignored Charlie’s presence, he was too proud or ashamed or whatever it was to show publicly that he was with you; and that upset you more than you imagined.

“Y/N?” he softly called your name; you sighed in frustration.

“What Charlie? Why do you keep interrupting my reading?” it came harsher than you meant it to be, a hint of hurt passed in his eyes.

“Wait, when did I interrupt you before?” you looked at Charlie raising an eyebrow, who was he kidding? But you saw he had a pure look of innocence confusion on his face, he had probably forgotten with the amount of alcohol he had that night.

“Anyway, what do you want?” you asked, not being able to resist him.

“Well I was wondering if you could read that book of yours out loud.” He admitted almost grumpily like he wanted to play bad boys, but he was just being cute.

“Oh yes please Y/N, it would be so nice!” added excitedly Eli.

“Well it’s asked so nicely” you replied sarcastically throwing a quick look at Charlie.

“Thank you” he mimicked his brother, you tried to hide your smile, he was an idiot but an adorable one. Making yourself comfortable against your saddle, crossing your legs, you cleared your throat and started from the beginning of the book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

You felt Charlie carefully crawling closer to you to finally lay his head on your lap, you briefly stopped reading surprised, but you quickly got back to reading, you wouldn’t want him to go away, even though he came on his own will, you could feel he was on the defensive. As for Eli, he was so happy to see his little brother in love, it gave him hope for their future.

After a bit, one of your hands left your book, so that you could run your fingers through his hair as you continued to read out loud; you particularly loved his hair, thick and soft, Charlie closed his eyes in appreciation, lulled by your voice.

After, Charlie got more comfortable with showing you affection in public and he liked how it showed that you were with him. Every night, when you were camping outside, when Eli had fell asleep, you would hear Charlie shift under his covers until he got up, bringing his bed against yours, then he would lie down next you; you could feel the warmth of his body, his calm breathing, each time for a few seconds he wouldn’t move as if he feared something bad would happen in return; then, gently he would slid his arm around your waist, bringing himself closer to you, his warm breath tickling your neck, sometimes without a word you would simply join your hand with his, entwinning your fingers, the both of you quickly falling asleep afterwards.

But most of the time you would turn to face him, looking at him the eyes, you could tell he still felt conflicted about how he cared for you. You never spoke to each other in those moments, the suffering in his eyes was more explicit than any word, you would exchange a few tired kisses, until Charlie would snuggle against your chest, holding you close.

The travel was long, you had to cross mountains and plains, riding from dawn to the night, without encountering any ounce of civilization. You were eager find it again, even a small village would be perfect, especially so far from Oregon City; you had heard so many stories about the new giant cities building on the West Coast, you wondered what it looked like, how the people were dressed, what did they do for fun? Would a woman with your lifestyle be more accepted?

Today you reached the ocean, how splendid it was, it wasn’t your first time seeing it, once for a job further in the north you had reached the ocean to stop some guys to take a boat and flee to Mexico. But it seemed it was the first time for the two brothers, they had stopped their horses on top of the dune, looking at this water as far as the eye could see, they had big happy smiles on their faces, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the sea air. When you reopened them, Charlie was staring at you, his eyes shining.

“Beautiful” he said, you smirked.

“Are you talking about me or the ocean?”

“Both, although I might have a favorite...” he flirted, winking at you, you shook your head in disbelief, he could be so sweet sometimes.

“Sweet talker” you chuckled, before starting to descend the dune on you horse, you rode for the whole day on the beach, enjoying the wind on your face and the sound of the waves; you even decided on camping on the beach for the night, and you couldn’t resist any longer, you were going to go for a swim, nothing better to relax your muscles after days of horse riding. The sunset was truly magnificent, it was the perfect time.

“Wanna come with me for a swim?” you asked the brothers as you got up, taking your hat and boots off.

“In there?!” exclaimed Charlie looking at you as if you were crazy, who knows what creature was under the surface...

“Eli could you turn for a minute please?” you asked the older brother who instantly turned slightly blushing. Charlie watched you as you took off all your clothes, you were fully naked now, his mouth was slightly agape, what a sweet sight it was, it reminded him of that time in the barn, he didn’t have such intimacy with you since then because of the presence of Eli; but now he felt desire rise into him, he couldn’t wait for it to happen again. You smirked at him as you headed into the waves, Eli finally turned catching a glimpse of your bottom as the water reached your hips.

“What a woman...” he marveled.

“Did I tell you that you could look?!” scolded Charlie with jealousy “What are you doing?” he exclaimed as Eli got up, starting to take of his clothes.

“I’m going in, it looks very nice”, he watched his brother getting naked too, he couldn’t believe it, his brother naked and you too, he couldn’t let that happen, you were his and his only.

“C’mon Charlie, the temperature is really nice!” you called him from afar as you were joined by Eli, he was doing little jump, how fun it was to float like this.

“Charlie, come! It’s like flying!” laughed Eli, excited like a kid.

“Goddammit!” he groaned, irritably taking his clothes off, the truth is that he was genuinely scared of going in, but he was too possessive to let you naked with Eli. You laughed as he joined you with a grumpy face, he relaxed a bit when he noticed how easy it was to float, Eli was right, it was fun.

“AAAAH SOMETHING TOUCHED ME!!!” you squealed clinging on Charlies back wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“What!? Where!?” exclaimed Charlie looking around, securely grabbing your thighs, you pinched you lips together, trying not to laugh.

“She got you!” cackled Eli, understanding you had pranked his little brother; Charlie groaned in exasperation, you planted an apologetic kiss on his shoulder. Before he made you fall in the water laughing with Eli.

That day you really had fun, the three of you playing in the waves like children, laughing, forgetting about anything else, and you loved seeing Charlie smile, those genuine smiles of happiness were so rare compared to his sadistic ones. You hoped that it was helping him to realize that life by your side could bring him satisfaction. Eli was the first one to get out of the water, he wished he could have stayed more but he started to feel cold. You and Charlie stayed a bit more. Charlie was looking at you with a happy smile, and as if he wanted to tell you something but something refrained him from doing so.

“What is it?” you asked trying to get him to talk.

“Nothing. I’m just glad to be here” he answered briefly avoiding your gaze with shyness ‘with you’ he added in his mind, he didn’t know how good it felt to hear him say this, you had never heard a man say such thing to you since you started your new life, you caressed the back of his head.

“You make me happy too, Charlie” he swallowed down at your words before closing the gap between the two of you.

Each day that passed you were more in love with him, he had this vulnerability, this sweetness that you wanted to fully unveil. Sometimes you wondered if you were attracted to him because he was as broken as you, but if you could make each other happy, then it was a good thing.

When you both went back on the beach, you felt teasing. Eli had his back turned to give some intimacy. Charlie had put his pants back on and was looking for his shirt.

“Now, where’s my-” he stopped when he realized you were wearing it with a proud smile, how nice it was to see you wear his clothes.

“I need my shirt back sweetheart.” He spoke, trying to hide how pleased he was at this vision.

“Then come and get it” you teased, he smirked and slowly approached you, looking at you like a predator would on its prey and damn that was arousing. When he was close to you, he started to undo each button, pleasantly realizing you were fully shirtless under it, his fingers came to caress your nipples, how he craved to taste them, he chuckled capturing your lips once more as he took his shirt off of you.

“Hey, I'm still here you know.” muttered Eli embarrassed by the sounds of kissing behind his back. You broke the kiss, he was right, the poor man had to bear this.

“Sorry Eli” you giggled, looking for your own clothes.

The rest of the night went by in a good atmosphere, Eli and Charlie even singing bawdy songs around the campfire, and this time you were in Charlie’s arms, settled between his legs, your back resting against his chest, sharing a cigarette.

That night Charlie wanted more than just cuddles and kisses with you, you had spent your time teasing him today after all. And you wanted it, but Eli was still there, you didn’t want him to see or even hear. Then, you felt Charlie’s hand slide in your pants and underwear to settle between your legs, you felt goosebumps form on your skin, you wiggled your hips, you had missed his touch so much, you didn’t want to resist, you wanted to give him, and give yourself to Charlie once again.

“Don´t worry he´s asleep” he murmured against your ear, feeling your worry. You closed your eyes as he nibbled your earlobe, you will do your best to muffle your moans of pleasure and not awake Eli.

“Charlie…” you moaned, feeling his hard manhood against your butt, you both wished you had been alone, you will have to pleasure each other in another way in the meantime. You turned to face him, sliding your hand beneath his shirt to feel his warm skin, he needily exhaled under your touch before taking possession of your mouth; as his tongue caressed yours, his hand went you massage your breast, his fingers teasing your nipples, earning a few hushed moans from you.

Your hand traveled down his pants, taking his erection in your hand, he growled realizing how hungry for your touch he had been and even more as you started to slowly move up and down. His hand went back between your legs, teasingly caressing your folds, you nuzzled closer to Charlie, closing your eyes in delight.

Your movements became faster and faster, Charlie’s forehead against yours, mingling your rapid breathing, trying to conceal your moans of pleasure.

“Y/N…I’m gonna come…” panted Charlie against your lips, he increased his circling around your clitoris making you cry out in pleasure, forgetting how quiet you tried to be. You and your lover soon reached climax, muffling it each other’s mouth. Charlie kept you in his arms the whole night, often planting tender kisses on your face; sometimes he wondered if all this was just a dream, and if not, he hoped your presence by his side will never cease.

The next morning as you departed from the beach in the direction of San Francisco; you noticed that Eli was sleepy, his eyes closing and opening, constantly yawning on his horse, and his brother noticed it too.

“What’s wrong, had a bad sleep?” he asked, thinking Eli might have had nightmares again.

“How did you want me to sleep after the noises you two made last night…” he grumbled with irritation. You were blushing so much as you understood what he implied, gosh you felt so embarrassed that he had to witness that and for once Charlie felt a bit awkward too.

“You told me he was sleeping!” you kicked his calve with your foot, he chuckled at your embarrassment.

“Well he was! It´s not my fault if you’re the noisy type!” your mouth formed an ‘o’ you were outraged at his comment.

“Of course it´s your fault! you´re the one who made me go noisy!” you realized too late what you had said, now Charlie had big goofy grin on his face, and now Eli was laughing his ass off, you rolled your eyes and sped your horse to go ahead of the two brothers.

San Francisco

“Fuck me it’s Babylon here!” exclaimed Charlie in wonder as he looked at the giant city full of life in front of him.

“Amazing...” you breathed looking at the buildings and the lights, and there were so many people around you that you could lose yourself in a few seconds. Speaking of which, people had passed between you and the brothers; Charlie had realized that too and was now pushing past them to get back to you.

“Hey, wouldn’t want to lose you sweetheart” said Charlie, relief washing over his face as he reached to grab your hand so he wouldn’t be separated from you again.

“If we find Warm, no need to look for a quiet corner, there’s none.” Commented Eli in wonder.

“Who gives a fuck! We can kill anyone we want. Look at them, all busy doing something!” replied Charlie with excitement.

Then, you stopped in front of a grand building, chic people wearing costumes at the latest trend of Europe, so many lights inside, crystal chandeliers, what a place.

“An hotel?” you wondered, you had never seen such a big building and so well decorated.

“Let’s go.” Said Charlie not even bothering to hide his excitement; you had to admit it was very tempting, a once in a lifetime experience.

“Must be very expensive.” Commented Eli, this time you agreed with your lover, Eli should loosen up a bit.

“Exactly.” Replied his brother already marching towards the entrance.

“Let’s have a bit of fun Eli! And we all deserve some nice place like this after what we’ve been through!” you added excitedly, hurrying to catch up your lover.

“Here are the water-closet, the bathroom with warm running water and finally your bedroom gentlemen; miss, yours is right here in front of theirs.” The suite was so well decorated and all fancy, it was just like a house for a family, you had never seen such thing before! You squealed as you entered your bedroom, letting yourself fall on the mattress, smiling at how soft it was, you couldn’t wait to get yourself in those soft and warm sheets.

As Eli went directly to the bathroom to take a warm bath, all excited to try warm running water; you felt Charlie’s gaze on you, you lifted your head to realize he was leaning against the doorframe looking at you with a tender smile.

“I hope you don’t plan on staying in your room the whole night…” you flirted, he smirked in return, leaving his spot to join you on the bed, taking off his hat and coming on top of you, his fingers caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” He replied with a smirk before capturing your lips, you buried your fingers in his hair, closing your eyes, his touch was intoxicating, each time you yearned for more and feared that all of this was just a fling.

When the time for dinner came, you all dressed nicely for the fancy restaurant of the hotel. It was your first time wearing a dress in years, it felt strange, and you were nervous about Charlie’s reaction. You knew he was going to like it, but you feared he might want you to stick with this type of outfit. When you came out of your room both brothers stopped talking and looked at you with their mouth slightly open.

“What? I’m not the first woman you see wearing a dress.” You joked uneasy at the attention you were getting. Charlie snapped out of his trance and took your hand in his to kiss it in a very gentlemanlike way.

“You’re beautiful.” He added softly; you detailed his appearance and he looked dashing with his hair perfectly slicked back, his black and red outfit that highlighted his warm tan and green eyes.

“Thank you, Charlie. You are quite a sight yourself.” You replied looking at him in the eyes, he smirked pleased at your compliment. “Very elegant too Eli.” He smiled shyly, bowing his head at you. You took your lover’s arm as he escorted you at the dining hall.

“But don’t expect me to wear this every day.” You informed him, leaning closer to his ear. He chuckled in return.

“No matter how gorgeous you are looking at the moment, I enjoy you daily outfit too; nothing better than a pants and shirt to highlight your curves…” he smirked, throwing you a glance full of lust, you chuckled, relieved he liked you the way you were.

“A little comfort in a moment of uncertainty” sighed Charlie taking a drag of his cigar, you smiled, it was true, that this type of place was quite relaxing after weeks on horse and sleeping in the wild.

“You know, I was thinking about something…we could go back to Oregon city, and say we didn’t find them.” Suddenly said Eli, his tone careful.  

“What do we say to the Commodore?” you asked genuinely curious, why did he wanted to drop the job all of a sudden? Because of the conversation you two had?

“The truth. Morris left with Warm, destination unknown. They can’t ask us to find them without any clues to guide us. And we don’t know if Mayfield’s men didn’t catch them already…” he explained, this time with more confidence.

“Alright. What are you getting at brother?” asked Charlie wanting his brother to go straight to the point.  

“With what we got in Mayfield, the money we saved at home and the rest we have enough to dump the Commodore once and for all.” Clarified the older brother; he was right, maybe it would be best to stop here and have a life with your lover, at least it was your wish.

“Sounds feasible, we’ve got a lot.” You said, supporting Eli, who flashed you a quick thankful smile.

“Why would we do that?” asked Charlie clueless, his brother sighed, as for you, you could feel Charlie was already losing patience.  

“Have you ever thought about quitting work?” added Eli, more straightforward this time.

“But to do what?” asked again your lover, stunned.

“Don’t know…we could open a store just the two of us, Y/N could also come with us…” suggested the older brother, hoping this idea might be interesting.

“What store?!” replied Charlie getting annoyed by the whole conversation.

“Listen, both of us, we’ve had a hard time, we’re still alive, still  young and we even have love from two wonderful women, it’s a good way out!” clarified Eli, his tone getting desperate, he looked at you for support.

“A store. A way out. What the hell is this bullshit?” exclaimed Charlie, Eli truly felt hurt by the reaction of his little brother and lowered his eyes, he didn’t know what else to add. On your side, you looked at your lover with pity, he truly thought he was good at nothing but killing.

“At least we know you want out, so quit.” He added coldly.

“What does that mean? That if I stop you continue?” replied Eli who was also starting to be angry at his little brother.

“Of course, I continue, I’ll still have Y/N as my new partner.”

“Charlie, at least consider what your brother says…” you intervened gently, briefly touching his hand but now he was fully irritated and looked at you as if you had betrayed him.  

“Alright then, Rex asked me for work, there also Sanchez.” He spoke with hurt in his eyes, he didn’t want to give up his life, the reputation he had built, his importance.

“C’mon Rex and Sanchez you can’t trust them, they won’t protect you.” Objected Eli trying to show him he only meant his well-being.  

“Oh because you protect me?” reproached Charlie, you understood his words had a deeper meaning, it wasn’t all about the current job, something older, a deep wound that never healed and you were pretty sure it was linked to what happened with their father.

“That’s what you tell yourself, to stay the nice Eli…but we’re the Sisters brothers, you and me, the goddamn Sisters brothers.” Charlie’s words were cruel, reflecting how traumatized he was “Fine, you took your decision, fine by me and I can tell you that the Commodore will like it too.”

“Charlie…” you tried, his mean words towards Eli were unnecessary.  

“Y/N stay outta this.” He cut you off, avoiding your gaze; he wished you supported him instead of his brother “So, we finish the job, and split up.” He concluded; his tone final.  

“Why are you saying it like this?! And after we split up?”

“What do you want me to say? If I stay with the Commodore and you-you open your store…”

“What you mean is that we won’t see each other again…”

“Of course not, every time I’ll be in town, if I need somethin’ like a shirt or shorts…” he answered with arrogance, now you felt anger rise in your chest, Charlie was being a dumbass, not even trying to consider the possibility of changing of life.

“Why are you saying this with such meanness?! Those words, why are you taking the conversation to such a low level! Cause you’re drunk!?” this was too much for Charlie who slapped his brother right in the face, the people in the room gasping, outraged at the scene. Every eye in the room were looking at the three you, you could felt their disapproval and felt ashamed to be in the company of someone who couldn’t control his emotions, he needed to learn to behave like an respectable adult.  

Eli left to his room, feeling humiliated. As for you, you were angry at Charlie, why did he have to behave in such puerile way!? So, you got out of the restaurant, you intended to give him a piece of your mind, it wasn’t going to be pretty, but he had to hear this. You found him by the entrance, pacing back and forth, angrily smoking his cigar.

“Why did you have to be such an asshole!?” you exploded, looking at him severely, you were done being nice and soothing with him, he had to understand how childish he had behaved.  

“Oh, you too now?” he replied bitterly.

“Yes, Charlie I’ve never seen a grown man behave so immature!”

“Did you hear him!? I’m not my father! I’m not drunk! In fact, I didn’t drink since we fucked for the first time!” he confessed raising his voice, ignoring the people around hearing him. You were glad he had given up alcohol but that will be for another time.

“You know very well what I’m talking about Charlie! Eli had a good idea; we won’t be so good at this job for many years more! And we’ll end up killed if we don’t settle somewhere!” you spoke urgently, you wanted to save him from his dark mind, offer him peace.

“Oh what now? You want me to become a seller! ‘Good morning to you mam’ you should buy this soap it’s real fuckin’ good!’ Bullshit Y/N!” fumed Charlie with sarcasm, still being stubborn.

“Oh because you think killing and torturing will make you feel better?! That you’ll have bright future ahead? I thought you were the smart one, apparently I was mistaken” you snapped back, hitting him right in the feels. He clenched his jaw at your words, looking at the ground as you left him to go back to your bedroom.

Charlie wandered in the city for several hours, trying to gather is thoughts, trying to understand his brother’s words and yours. Finally, he arrived in front of a brothel, the girls were the prettiest he had ever seen; but for once he couldn’t go inside, it didn’t feel right, and he didn’t feel any desire for them, all  he could think of was you, he didn’t want just any woman, he wanted you…he felt…upset that you were mad at him. In that moment he finally understood, he was in love with you.

He had to get back to you and ask for your forgiveness. He rushed back to the hotel and knocked at your door, he didn’t care if it was late in the night, he had to talk to you. You were not asleep, your fight with Charlie had upset you; suddenly you heard someone knocking at your door.

“Y/N please, let me in...” you heard Charlie’s voice. You pinched your lips together; you were not sure you wanted to answer him. The only way to build something solid with Charlie was to settle, otherwise one of you would get killed, but Charlie refused to see that, he needed to understand that he could be happy and that he could be good at something else than killing. He knocked again, his voice more upset this time, you couldn’t resist to his plead and went to open your door.

Relief washed over his face as he saw you, he stepped in, closing the door behind him. He nervously passed his tongue over his lips.

“Y/N forgive me, I should have listened.” He started, he swallowed down as if it took him all his strength to admit this; you didn’t answer, he was sincere but what bothered you even more was why he came back to you, if it was just for fucking or to be his comfort only when he asked for it, you didn’t want him back; no matter how much it would hurt you.

“Before one of us gets heartbroken, is it just about sex or are we having something more?” you suddenly asked, you needed to know, he seemed taken back by your question, he looked to the side, he was tense as if he feared the answer, yours and his.  

“I…What Am I to you Y/N?” he asked you back, still not looking at you, his heart was racing. You wished he would have answered first but if it enabled you to finally know the truth, you will answer first.

“I care about you Charlie, it’s hard to say because it never happened to me before but I think I love you…” you felt like your heart would explode in your chest, waiting was killing you, Charlie finally looked at you in the eyes, he seemed moved, very moved by your confession “What about you Charlie?” you urged him.

“I’d like this to work, very much…I want to stay with you and take care of you.” he admitted with nervousness, he had tears in his eyes, as if it was taking all his will to admit this, all the pain he must have went through to end up like this, you thought. He hadn’t told you he loved you, but his words meant the same. You released a relieved smile, taking his face between your hands, closing the gap between the two of you, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his fingers in your hair.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked you against your lips, you smiled, guiding him to the bed. Tonight, together, your bodies intertwined, you will finally be complete, naked and your feelings bare, for the first time truly loving each other.

The next morning”

“I’m starting to think we’ll never find Warm; this city is so damn huge” sighed your lover, taking another drag of his cigarette

“We should check concessions offices...” you muttered sleepily; your face half buried in your pillow, one arm resting on his belly.

“You can stay here a bit more sleepyhead, I’ll go first.” he replied softly, getting up. You yawned, struggling to not fall back asleep as you watched him get dressed.

“You should talk to Eli.” you added; he sighed as he put his hat on his head, then he approached the bed.

“Yes ma'am’” he answered leaning forward to place a loving kiss on your shoulder.

As he closed the door on his way out, you brought his pillow closer to your face so you could breathe in his scent.  You were happy, Charlie wasn’t the perfect man but so were you, and you both found comfort in each other’s company.

When you were finally fully awake, you quickly dressed up to help your lover but as you came out of your room you bumped into Eli, he was on his way out too carrying his saddle bag.

“Eli, what are you doing?” you asked him surprised.

“I’m leavin’” he answered, his tone low and frustrated.

“You’re leaving?  Eli, your brother did something really stupid last night, but he didn’t mean it…”

“Well he didn’t apologize to me, didn’t he?” he cut you off grumpily.

“Not yet but I’m sure he will before the end of the day.” You insinuated, thinking about the conversation you had with Charlie.

“You don’t know him as well as I do Y/N. He probably spent his night in a brothel, drinking and now he’s sobering up in a back alley” continued Eli, going downstairs, you followed him.

“Well...”

“Please Y/N I know you mean well but I can’t take his childish and arrogant behavior anymore” he cut you off tiredly, you lifted your hands in the air, he needed time to think, he will probably come back as quickly as he left.

You headed outside anyway, you had to find Charlie and help him. But as you walked in the streets you recognized your lovers voice, he had found Eli, and was probably trying to convince him to stay. You decided to stay at a distance, waiting for them to settle their argument; you scoffed at your lover, how he pretend not to remember anything, with time you had understood he always did this rather than face problems. Then, you arched an impressed eyebrow and grinned as Eli threw him a heavy punch in the face, making his little brother fall on the floor, he deserved it.

When Eli laughed, you decided to join them, it was time to leave this part of the city anyway. Charlie was still massaging his jaw, you approached him pretending you didn’t see anything and pressed a big kiss where he had been hit, he winced at first still in pain, but then your touch calmed him, reminding him of the night he had shared with you.

“What do we do now?” you asked them, putting you hat on your head.

“Apparently Charlie knows where they are.” Started Eli, tightening the saddle on his horse.

“Yep, you were right about the concession sweetheart; at the name of Morris, American river, Folsom Lake.” Charlie announced proudly, you grinned in return. As Eli got on his horse ready to depart, you came to stand a few inches from your lover, placing your lips upon his, he leaned into your touch, putting his hands on your hips to bring your body closer to him.

“You did good Charlie.” You assured him, looking at him in the eyes, you were glad he tried to behave, and listened to your advice. He smiled in return, slowly blinking to thank you, if he was rewarded this way each time he behaved, he will do it more often, he thought.

You left for the concession, it wasn’t too far from San Francisco and it shouldn’t be too complicated to find them. You rode for a full day, and had to spend the night in the forest, by tomorrow morning you will get to them. Charlie didn’t wait anymore for his brother to be asleep anymore to be by your side, you were snuggled against him, both of you asleep in each other’s arms.

You jumped awake at a sudden groan coming from Eli and before you could do anything else you were pulled away from Charlie, someone holding you from behind, you realized your lover didn’t move, you instantly feared he had been killed, you struggled trying to break free but a second man came in front of you, Morris. They had the advantage on you, chucking you on the floor, Warm put his knee on your back, blocking your arms while Morris tied your legs together, then your wrists and finally putting a gag on your mouth to prevent you screaming for help.

“Now, let’s kill them!” urged Morris making sure his gun was fully charged. You kept looking at Charlie ‘please be okay!’

Tag list: @skaravile​ @lyoongx​ @weirdflecksbutok​ @charlie-sisters​ @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv​ @sgtsavoytruffle​ @ohcarlesmycarles​  @welcometomyhiddlesfandom @rajacero  @sanguinandoscrivo​ (also tagging those who enjoyed part 1 @arthurismybby​ @jokerismyhubbie​ @lindemannhiddles​ @lephantom​)

[fvckyouimaprophet]

your kiss so sweet

Summary: Toni meets Cheryl at a bar. There's something about her that Toni can't quite place, and it may be more than she bargained for. | Read on AO3. Author’s Note: Warnings for spanking, light bondage, and fingerfucking--featuring vampire!Cheryl

Toni frowns as she squeezes her way between the two boys, drink held high in the air. Despite the push, neither look down or even seem to notice her presence. She throws a backward glance their way before sitting down at the bar. “When did this place stop being a lesbian bar?”

“Tell me about it.”

Toni turns to see a redhead seated next to her, perfectly upright. She taps at the leg of the stool with her foot to the beat of the song as she sips at her drink. Toni’s eyes fall momentarily to the black silk gloves on the woman’s hands, but she thinks better than to stare. When she looks up, the woman’s gaze is turned at her own drink. “You ever make it out here before?” Toni asks.

When the woman looks at her, Toni feels a strange chill run through her. As if noticing, the woman tilts her head and takes another sip before responding. “Once in a while. Frankly, half the people here are a mess—even on a good day—and I don’t find the sloppiness half as charming as some.” She wrinkles her nose as she looks past Toni. Toni turns around to see two girls kissing, mouths open, hands reaching underneath their shirts.

Toni laughs. “It doesn’t bother me that much, though I can’t say it’s really my speed.” She leans forward, watching out of the corner of her eyes as the woman next to her finishes her drink, leaving a bright red stain on her glass. “What are you drinking? I can get your next drink.”

“And they say chivalry’s dead.” Her lips quirks upward. “Cheryl.”

“Toni.” Toni sticks out her hand. For a moment, it seems as if Cheryl is not going to take it, and it hovers there. Just before Toni drops her hand, however, Cheryl does. A shiver goes through Toni, and her breath hitches at the contact. Her hand is cold to the touch. Their hands drop, and Cheryl stares at her, a slight smile on her face that does little to reassure Cheryl.

“My glass was chilled when I got it. It must have lingered on my gloves,” Cheryl says, yet somehow Toni doubts that is the case.

After another moment, Toni clears her throat. “You never answered my question.”

“Cherry Manhattan.” She nods her head at Toni’s drink, which is nearly finished as well. “Yourself?”

“Bourbon. I never was one for vermouth.”

“It’s certainly an acquired taste. I drank a lot of it in my younger years,” Cheryl says. Judging by her looks, Cheryl can hardly be much older than herself—Toni thinks. Cheryl must realize how her words sound, as she raises her eyebrows as if challenging Toni to speak.

“Not as a child, I hope,” Toni says.

“Hardly.” Cheryl smirks and raises her hand to flag the bartender.

“What can I get you girls?” the bartender asks, smiling warmly at both of them.

“Cherry Manhattan and a gin and tonic please,” Toni says. “You can put it on my tab—last name Topaz.” The bartender nods and steps back.

“A gin and tonic? I thought you said that you were drinking bourbon.”

“I like to keep people guessing.” She grins, feeling oddly satisfied by the intrigued look that Cheryl gives her.

“I do enjoy an air of mystery.”

The bartender comes back, places theirs drinks in front of them, and clears away the old glasses. “Can I get you anything else?”

Toni sucks in her cheek and takes in the look that Cheryl gives her before turning to face the bartender. “I’d like to close my tab.”

“I’ll get you the check.”

When the bartender steps away again, Toni turns to look at Cheryl to see whether she managed to ruin the night. Something in Cheryl’s eyes seems nearly hungry, and she wets her lips and takes another sip of her drink, her gaze unwavering as she stares directly at Toni’s eyes.

“Keeping me on my toes, Ms. Topaz. I like that.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Let’s leave this wretched place, and what shall we do next?”

“I’m happy to take you back to my place, but I live with roommates. Something tells me that you don’t.”

“In no uncertain terms, a bold assumption.” Toni opens her mouth to apologize, but Cheryl cuts her off. “But not an incorrect one. I also happen to live near here.”

“Do you need to close out your tab as well?”

“I paid in cash.”

Toni downs her drink, aware of how gleefully eager she must seem at the promise of sex. In other circumstances she might be embarrassed, but something in Cheryl’s expression wills her forward, urging her to finish. The wave of the third drink hits her harder than she expected, and she lets out a sigh as she looks over to see that Cheryl, despite her graceful, well-paced sips, managed to finish her drink as well.

“Hope you two have a nice evening,” the bartender says, placing the receipt down on the bar and glancing between the two of them with a knowing, amused look.

They make quick work navigating their way through the crowd. Cheryl leads the way, parting the crowd with surprising ease. Oddly enough, she barely has to lay a hand on their shoulders before they step back. Yet they are soon outside, and as the cold night air fills her lungs, Toni finds the thought slipping away to other matters.

“Where do you live?” Toni asks as she puts on her coat. Rather than answer, Cheryl steps forward, leading the way. There’s something uncanny about the way that Cheryl walks, her upper body so still that she appears to glide on the pavement. “It’s cold out,” Toni says, breaking the silence. Sure enough, as she speaks, she can see her breath.

“Is it?” Cheryl lets out a hum and continues walking. “I hardly noticed.” As odd as it is, Toni decides that she must be telling the truth, as the air in front of her remains unaffected. In the stillness of the night, the click of her boots echoes down the empty, lamplit street. The houses around them are mostly dark, and Toni only just begins to question whether she’d acted rashly when Cheryl stops.

“This is mine,” she says, pointing at an ivy-grown brownstone.

Toni lets out a low whistle. “That’s quite a house.”

“Isn’t it? I think so.” Cheryl walks up the steps to the door and pulls a key out of her purse. “If you don’t mind, I prefer all shoes left in the foyer,” she says and turns the handle. It takes a moment for the implication of her words to sink in, and when they do, Toni can hardly restrain her reaction.

“This is all yours? I thought you meant an apartment or a floor at most.” Toni steps in, her eyes immediately drawn to the chandelier. She swallows thickly and bends down to unlace her boots. “How do you own all this? You can’t be older than like twenty-seven, right?”

When she looks up, Toni sees an amused look flicker across Cheryl’s face, but it disappears just as soon as Toni notices it. “Something like that.” The answer is odd enough considering the circumstances, yet Toni bites her cheek, thinking better than to follow up with a question that she might not want the answer to. “My bedroom’s upstairs.”

They make their way up the staircase, and Toni glances around. The Victorian décor hardly seems out of place with the building, and Toni steps lightly, feeling oddly as if her presence disturbs it. “How long as you lived here?”

“A while.”

She has no time ask any more questions before Cheryl pauses in front of a door and opens it. The bedroom is barely visible from the light of the hallway, yet Cheryl steps in without turning on a light. She makes her way to the dresser, disappearing into the shadows momentarily before the light of a struck match illuminates her face.

In her hands, she holds a candelabra. She carefully lights all candles before setting it on her dresser and motioning for Toni to come in. Toni closes the door behind her, and her eyes run over the bedroom, from the mahogany bureau with a full mirror over to the black lace canopy above her bed. “You’re committed. I have to give you that,” Toni says, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

“You can critique my furniture choice, or—” Cheryl’s tosses her gloves on the dresser and reaches to the back of her neck. She undoes the clasp of her dress and pulls the zipper down. “—you can get over here.” Toni steps forward, any thoughts on the bedroom decorations evaporating. Her eyes trail down the length of Cheryl’s dress before drifting back up to Cheryl’s face.

“Your house is lovely,” Toni mutters.

“I assure you that no feelings were hurt.”

It’s all the encouragement that Toni needs. She closes the distance between them, and her hand falls to the back of Cheryl’s neck as their lips press together. She kisses her softly at first, but the gentleness quickly fades away to something more urgent. The same cold she felt in the bar is still there in Cheryl’s neck and lips. Perhaps, Toni assumes, the night air has affected her more than she let on.

Cheryl moans, low in her throat, and Toni’s fingers tighten as she pulls back Cheryl’s lower lip between her teeth. Her hand falls down Cheryl’s neck to the collar of her dress, and she tugs it past Cheryl’s shoulder. Cheryl lifts both of her arms, making it easier for Toni to slide her dress off.

A few tugs and backward steps later, they collapse on the bed, Cheryl’s dress in a heap on the floor. Cheryl rests her hand on Toni’s hip as Toni shifts her weight, straddling Cheryl and taking a moment to appreciate the view below her. Against the black lace of her garters and bra, Cheryl’s skin looks paler than before. Through the sheer fabric, Toni can tell her nipples are hard. She stares up at Toni, her lips slightly parted.

“You can stare all you want when you’re done fucking me.”

When Toni bends down, Cheryl presses her lips to Toni’s neck. Her touch is light, but it’s enough to make heat coil in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes flutter shut momentarily, and she lets out a whine as Cheryl’s lips dip right behind her ear and brush against her ear lobe.

When Cheryl pulls back, Toni reaches behind Cheryl, undoing the clasps of her bra and tossing it to the ground. She traces two fingers down, starting at Cheryl’s throat and moving down, past her areola, down her stomach, to her inner thigh. She stops for a moment, watching as Cheryl squirms under her, eyes squeezed shut. And then, without warning, brushes her thumb against Cheryl’s clit.

Cheryl’s hips jerk up, and even through the fabric, she can feel how wet Cheryl is. She rubs her index and middle finger over it slowly and bites her lip before dipping underneath. Cheryl’s wet enough that Toni barely has to put any pressure before the tips of her fingers start to press in.

“You’re cold,” Toni says, surprised.

“I thought that had already been established. Now are you going to shut up and—” Before Cheryl can finish the thought Toni pulls her fingers out and reaches up, pressing them in Cheryl’s mouth, down against her tongue. Cheryl moans, and Toni feels her roll her hips against the bed despite the lack of friction. Cheryl’s tongue pushes up, and she closes her mouth after a moment, sucking the taste of herself off of Toni’s fingers.

“Are you going to behave?” Toni asks, a thrill going through her as Cheryl nods.

She pulls out her fingers, and Cheryl wets her lips. “I have handcuffs in the nightstand,” she says, “if you want to use them.” Toni reaches over and pulls them out—dark black leather with heavy clasps. She makes quick work of putting them on, threading the chain through the headboard and pulling them as tight as they’ll go. When Cheryl gasps at the sensation, Toni feels the heat coil in her stomach.

When Toni bends down and takes Cheryl’s nipple in her mouth, her teeth brushing up against it, she gets the reaction she wants. Cheryl whines and arches her back up as much as her current position will allow. Toni takes her time, marveling at how much Cheryl reacts to each flick of her tongue. By the time she makes it to Cheryl’s other nipple, Cheryl presses up and down with her hips, and Toni’s breath catches in her throat as she feels her grind down against her leg.

She pulls back and gives an admonishing flick. “Good things come to all those who wait.”

“Not true,” Cheryl gasps out, but she nonetheless lowers her hips back down to the bed, and despite her squirming as Toni kisses down her stomach, she makes no move to lift them again. Toni’s tongue presses down over the fabric of her underwear, and the metal of the handcuffs clicks against the headboard. She moans against it. The fabric is wet enough that she can taste Cheryl through it.

She runs her tongue along the fabric before dipping slightly lower to Cheryl’s thigh, sucking at the skin hard enough that she’s sure to leave a mark. However, when she pulls back, there’s nothing there. Toni frowns, but when she bends down to try again, Cheryl rocks her hips up, her clit pressing up against Toni’s nose.

“Are you just going to tease me, or are you going to be a bore and make me beg for it?” Cheryl asks.

Toni laughs as she lifts herself up, and she surveys Cheryl for a moment before grabbing her by her jaw and squeezing until her lips part. “Considering how bratty you are, I imagine you’re used to getting things when you want and how you want.” She lets go, tossing Cheryl’s head slightly to the side, and Cheryl lets out an indignant huff. With the same hand, she reaches down, twisting Cheryl’s nipple sharply between her fingers. “Now flip over so I can spank you.”

Toni is sure that Cheryl will have some clever quip to say back, but she doesn’t. She just nods her head and flips over, her wrists twisted over one another in what cannot be a comfortable position. Despite it, she lifts her ass up. From this position, behind her, Toni can see the full outline of her labia, and she swallows thickly before raising and a hand and bringing it down. A loud smack echoes through Cheryl’s bedroom as Cheryl jerks against the handcuffs, and after a moment of silence, Toni tugs head back by her hair until her neck is open and exposed and says, “Count.” She drops Cheryl’s head.

They make it to ten before Toni lowers her hand. The next slap hits Cheryl’s cunt, and she lets out a whimper as she pulls slightly way. “Eleven.” Her voice is a low whisper, and Toni barely make it to fifteen before flipping Cheryl over and tugging her underwear down in a fluid motion.

For a moment, they stare, and then Toni pushes two fingers in. Cheryl moans, immediately grinding down. When she pulls out her fingers, glistening, Toni places them in her mouth and tastes, and Cheryl’s eyes meet hers.

“How do I taste?” Cheryl asks.

“You should know.” As an answer, Toni smirks and runs her fingers down along the tip of her tongue before leaning down to press a kiss to Cheryl’s lips. Her tongue eases Cheryl’s mouth open, and Cheryl’s breath hitches as she tastes herself on Toni’s lips.

Without much of a wait, she reaches down and pressing two fingers back in again. They kiss, wet and messy as Toni works at her, curling her fingers. Before long, Toni gives up at any pretense of teasing her. Instead, she fucks her hard, the bed rocking beneath them. Only when she can hear Cheryl's moans get breathier and her thighs tighten around her hand does she pull back.

Cheryl shakes beneath her, and Toni pulls back, appreciating how Cheryl, who has otherwise looked so put together, is now falling apart. When she places her mouth on Cheryl’s clit, fucking her and sucks, Cheryl trembles, and after another minute she comes with a shout, her walls squeezing around Toni’s fingers.

Toni fucks her as she comes down and flicks her tongue along Cheryl’s clit as Cheryl tries to twist away, oversensitive. “That’s— Fuck. Toni, c’mon,” she begs, but Toni doesn’t relent. She can barely breathe, her nose pressed against Cheryl’s skin as she does her best to move her tongue in a rhythm matching her fingers.

Cheryl’s whines soon turn into moans, and when she comes for a second time, her entire body shakes. Toni pulls back, satisfied and sucks her fingers clean again. “You’re so hot like this,” she says, afraid that her voice will break the moment, but Cheryl just lets out a satisfied sigh and lays still, eyes closed.

She waits until Cheryl has come down again before getting up and takes her time getting undressed, soaking in the way that Cheryl is staring at her, unrestrained and hungry. By the time she drops her underwear, Cheryl is bent forward as far as the restraints will allow, lips parted.

She walks over slowly and stops at the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to do?” Cheryl asks.

Rather than answer, Toni pushes her back down against the mattress and positions herself over Cheryl’s face. She can feel herself, wet enough that it’s dripped slightly to her thighs, messy and sticky. And when she glances down, Cheryl whimpers and lifts her head, pressing a kiss against Toni’s cunt. Toni feels her heart race as she lowers herself until she’s fully seated, Cheryl’s mouth pressed against her labia.

She doesn’t have the patience to start off slow—not after fucking Cheryl. Toni grips the headboard as she rocks her hips. Cheryl’s tongue presses in as much as she can from the angle, and when Toni pulls back, it rubs against her clit. “Fuck.” She does her best to set a rhythm, but she knows that she won’t last long. When she looks down, all she can see are Cheryl’s eyes and hair. Sensing her gaze, Cheryl looks up, with a look of determination, hunger, and something that Toni can’t quite place.

She rolls her hips one more time, and suddenly she feels a sharp pain in her inner thigh. Toni gasps, but before she can move off, it melts into something else. Her head falls back, and her fingers tighten on the headboard as warm delirium washes over her. Pressure coils in her stomach, and she arches up slightly off the bed as she comes. If not for the headboard, she is certain that she would collapse against Cheryl, and her body shakes and her thighs tighten as she rocks her hips one last time.

Only when she comes down does she notice the blood on the sheets and on Cheryl’s face. She stumbles backwards, nearly falling, and sees the devious look in Cheryl’s eyes. And her teeth—

Toni gasps and looks down at her thigh to see two red circles from where Cheryl clearly bit her. “Shit.” She takes another unsteady step back and catches herself on the bench by the foot of the bed.

“You’re going to want to sit down,” Cheryl says, and her tongue darts out to catch the blood dripping down at the corner of her mouth. “You’re not going to be in any state to leave for a little bit.” She pulls herself up as best as she can with the handcuffs still on her wrists.

“You’re a—” Toni’s breath catches in her throat, and she shakes her head. “Absolutely not.” She blinks several times, certain that this can’t be real.

“It’s always precious to see your faces when you find out that everything wicked you could have dreamed of isn’t—well—a dream.” She grins, full-toothed, and runs her tongue over one of her elongated teeth.

Toni lets go of the bench, and her knees buckle underneath her. “You’re a vampire.”

“And you’re going to pass out if you don’t come over here and undo my handcuffs.”

“No fucking way.” Toni catches herself on the bench again and sucks in her cheek, chewing on the inside as she tries to find a way out. Her eyes dart around for her jacket. She knows if she can find her cellphone, she can call someone to get her, but the thought of bending down to get it has the edges of her vision go dark. Even if she can reach it and pull it out, she wonders what she’d say. She doesn’t have an address. She can’t even recall the street they’re on.

“Don’t be a fool. You can undo them, or I can break them, and I’d really prefer not to. They’re my favorite pair.” Cheryl pouts, and laughter bubbles up in Toni’s throat before she can stop herself. Her head spins as she tries to take in the absurdity of the situation in front of her. She lets go of the bend and stands up, stumbling over to the bed as her vision blurs.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks.

“Kill you? Heavens no. We’re just getting started.”

Toni’s not sure if that’s any more reassuring, but she sways and decides there’s no other choice. She fumbles with the clasp several times before she manages to undo it. Cheryl drops her hand free, and Toni wavers and swallows thickly. As she reaches for the other clasp, her hands fall to her sides, heavy, and Toni closes her eyes as she feels the bed against her head.

After a moment, she feels Cheryl prop her up. When something cold presses against her mouth, she’s too drowsy to fight back. “Open up,” Cheryl says, and Toni whines as she opens her mouth and something warm and wet hits her tongue. She swallows, and after a moment, she can feel the warmth return to her body, and her eyes flutter open.

Cheryl pulls away her arm, and Toni stares, wide-eyed, as she sees the cut along her wrist. She reaches up to touch her own lips, and when she pulls her hand back, her fingers are red. “What did you do?” she asks and watches as Cheryl uses her free hand to undo the clasp still tying her to the bed. When she tries to sit up, she sways again, and Cheryl’s reaches out and places an arm around her waist, catching her before she can fall.

“Try to stay still. If you even have that in you.” Gently, she lowers Toni down until she’s laying on the bed. “You must be exhausted.” It’s only when Cheryl says it that Toni realizes that it’s true. Her eyes close despite herself, and although she makes a small sound of protest, Cheryl tuts over it. “Just rest your sweet head, and I’ll explain all in the morning.”

Despite everything urging her to feel otherwise, Toni feels oddly calm as she drifts off and a dreamless sleep swallows her whole.

[lloydsluck]

Crow’s Feet

Prelude

Ever looked at something that’s so fundamentally flawed, so bad in design, form and function, it’s actually intriguing. Like a botched piece of taxidermy or a first attempt at a short novel. A piece of work that was probably not half-assed but whole-heartedly assed with good intention and it would be insulting to the creator to jokingly ask did you write this story as if you’re the old piece of gum stuck underneath a Grade 8 English Lit student desk?  With no light, sense of tense, or spellcheker? The stereotypes and bad similes cause eye rolls so

 far back into one’s head it’s like… well it’s hard to think of a comparison here, so count yourself lucky. Not to mention the ADHD diversions, talking about mounting dead animals in one sentence quickly sidestepping to self-awareness of this piece of literature. I digress. When last did you see a questionable piece of art that you found beautiful? So bad, it’s great. So useless and time-wasting, it’s what you’ll think about ironically one day on your deathbed. Because heck… made you look. 

The Incision 

1

Mondays. The start of a new week. New opportunities for a new you. A fresh squeeze of hope that things will get better served with a side of “I can change” attitude. And no matter how many Mondays we have, (4 187 to be precise, if you, like the average human being will live to 79), you will wake up to the same old boring Monday, every week, the same way. 

Each one with a long dreary stretch and sigh, heavy eyes, telling yourself that you will make the most out of this week. But you won’t. Because laziness is time consuming and you don’t actually have anything else to do, really. 

However, on this particular Monday, which was Fick McOwen’s 2226’s Monday, things were different. 

Fick woke up with the dreadful sensation of drowning. Sinking deep in a casket of darkness. As he gulped in a breath of thick air, it tasted of rotten cabbage coating the back of his throat. Blind and bewildered, sharp metal sounds scratched close above his head. The sound stung his eardrums and made him cock up his forehead banging it hard against a flat surface.

‘Jeeezus fuck’, he hissed. 

With no sense of time and space, his ears were ringing overcharged electric chimes in his head which felt cracked and ready to explode like a reactor in Chernobyl. He took a few minutes to try and calm himself. No good ever came from a panic attack in closed confines with a possible concussion. He finally raised his hands to his chest and did what most drunks do the minute they wake up, pat themselves down and check their underwear.

*

One week earlier.

2

If she was just a bit nicer, Jeffrey thought, she may have already had a proper and dignified burial for her husband. Stomping up and down a room that looked like it was decorated for a five-star hotel in Vienna, the newly-widow’s bony figure moved fast from left to right like a rabid old fox prowling a fence. For Jeffrey, her unwanted but needed bodyguard/help/punching bag, she was Hitler’s sphincter. She sparked fear in him and tightened his nerves with her demanding presence. Like a screwdriver twisting and turning into soft wood. A reaction he despised about himself. It ruined many good days. Sunny days and days like today. 

Watching her from the corner of the large room, she attempted phone call after phone call, shouting at poor bastards who made the simple mistake of answering their phones that day. 

Wanting to disappear he closed his eyes and listened to every passive-aggressive step she took in the room. He liked to tell when she walked on the tiles or the bear rug; it was a fast tac tac tac womp womp womp womp tac tac womp womp…then nothing. He opened his eyes and with a fright found her standing right in front of him, steaming red with anger.

Her greying blonde hair was fastened in a tight pincushion on top of her head. This pulled back her frail white skin that held everything in place. Face to face, he couldn’t help but stare at the permanent makeup she had done on the lower lids of her eyes and on top of her brows. It was starting to fade and as a result, it looked like she put eyeliner on days ago and never washed it off. 

Her stare was cold and deadly like an overworked mortician’s. It complemented her daily outfits of thin grey pencil skirts and matching suit jackets. She had her name embroidered on the inside of the neckline since all of her clothing was specially washed and pressed at a local laundromat. One that she owned of course. 

Margaret. 

That’s what her husband used to call her. Or Margarine, Margie, or Macaroon. She would always remind whoever was listening that she was actually named after Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowden. If you had to look her up, you would see the uncanny similarities between the two women. So much so, that Jeffrey often wondered if they weren’t related. Considering how much of a royal bitch she was.

Nevertheless, he had to call her Mrs. Ergo. And he preferred the kind request from John Ergo, her late husband, since he didn’t think she would have liked the names he had listed for her in his head anyway. 

She snapped back up and walked across the room towards the large oak desk that faced the gigantic windows that looked out onto their garden. Their Ergo-Eden. With a deep sigh, he sat up straight and smoothed back his black hair that was styled according to an old Italian mobster he saw in a film when he was 15. 

“It’s all in the confidence of smoothing the wax over your hands first and then through your hair.” That’s what the old man said to his fellow pasta slurping, red-wine drinking, two hits a week gang that sat around a checkered table talking about the importance of looking respectable, no matter what the job. And this was what he told himself in the bathroom mirror every morning, (impersonating a very bad Italian accent of course) while he prepared for his day. 

Apart from the respectable hairdo, Jeffrey was built like a small bull with a refined jawline. At first glance one would imagine he spends his days lumberjacking in the forest; but instead of plaid shirts, he was forced to wear black on black as per ‘management’s’ request. 

He refocused his attention on her and as foul as she was acting that day, somewhere deep inside him, he felt sorry for her and her loss. His face twitched as he clenched his jaw trying to shape compassion on his face, but feared he looked more like a constipated clown trying to keep his cool. He was given cards once with all the different faces and expressions on it. Ironically, the illustrations looked like they were drawn by an autistic robot with no emotion nor artistic talent (it was), but it helped him deal with different people. Lines that came down the forehead with no teeth, meant anger or disappointment. Teeth showing meant they were happy – or about to bite you. 

Margaret often made faces Jeffrey couldn’t place on his cards and her teeth always had some lipstick stains on it, which quite frankly, just distracted him altogether. 

He watched her go down a list of names and numbers, furiously scratching them out when the call didn’t go as planned. Eyeing the last name and number on the list, she picked up the phone and started dialing. 

3

Fick carefully pulled the skin up the neck and then over the top of the head, trying his very best to keep his hand steady. He wore magnifying goggles that pushed his choppy brown hair up toward the ceiling and enlarged his olive-grey eyes. It looked like the head of a praying mantis was stuck on a lanky man's body who dressed as if he found a discarded box of 80s band shirts and never bothered to wear anything else again. 

'There.' He said as he lifted his hands and inspected the bird-like shape that was coming together in front of him. 

In the back of the garage-turned-workshop, a small radio was trying to hold itself together while Henry Rollins tore away at its speakers. The music filled the room and gave Fick the ability to concentrate. Nothing else was audible. Not a phone or a thought could break his focus. 

And it paid off; the crow started to take a lively shape, fast. All it needed were the eyes and some beak touch-ups and this bad boy was ready for some teenager's window sill.

Fick lived in Long Fountain, a small town where the kids were either into wrestling, the backyard kind, or satanism – also the backyard kind. This meant there were a lot of goth-like metalheads who gave themselves names like Agares and Forneus and hung outside the grocery store to smoke cheap cigarettes they bummed off the shop clerk. They would wear black makeup and dangle fake blood vial necklaces around their necks. Some would even proudly claim that they spray-painted hale satin on the backside of the church announcement board. To top off their rebel-without-a-cause-and-lack-of-basic-grammar-look, these kids would own a taxidermied crow on their windowsills, just for that extra edge. 

“It’s a phase” most parents would say, but Fick couldn’t care less. He got fifty bucks out of it, liked the work, and asked no questions. 

As a self-employed middle-aged Taxidermist, he could work from home and at his own pace. Something he considered to be more valuable than a performance bonus cheque at the end of a year after slaving away in a badly lit office desk from nine to five, five to seven days a week.

He didn’t necessarily consider himself a hermit, but he did prefer his own company with the exception of a few selected people – very selected and very few. This was a choice he made unapologetically clear to others who wanted to befriend him for no real reason. When presented with this frankness, they would awkwardly laugh it off and insist he’s just a fun and sarcastic guy. He despised those people the most. 

Furthermore, Long Fountain was a small enough town for the nosy types to know everyone and their business, while still quiet and sparse enough for others to embrace the privacy of the town’s border. If you had to take a drone shot from high above, the edge of the town looked like it disappeared into the desert like an ocean of drought that spilled into a suburb. Fick could never figure out why they called it Long Fountain though, as there wasn’t even a lake or river anywhere near them. But he liked it there and he appreciated the colourful desert sunsets that could be found if you were at the right place at the right time.

The only other peculiar thing about the town was that there was an abnormally large crow population, which he didn’t mind because it meant more product for him. That, and an abnormal amount of  old age homes. 

He gripped the tweezer handle between his teeth while he carefully glued the last soft tiny black feathers to the rim of the beak; he tended to hold his breath during these final touches. While the song came to a screeching halt, the ringing of his cell phone surfaced through all the noise and concentration. 

‘Fuck!’ He spat out the metal twangs, pulled off the goggles and flipped his phone over to reveal four missed calls from an unknown number in town. He was about to throw the phone over his shoulder onto a once purple–now grey–couch, when the screen lit up again with the same number flashing. 

‘Hello’ he answered casually trying to simmer down. 

‘Hello, is this Fick McOwen?’ A sweet lady’s voice kindly asked on the other side. 

‘Yes, how can I help?’

‘I’m looking for someone who can help me with a,’ she paused for a second,  ‘stuffing job?’ 

‘Well ma’am, I do all kinds of taxidermy. We don’t call it stuffing though, rather mounting,’ he smirked. ‘Anything from crows, bucks, ducks, even your pet poodle.’ He stared at the one-eyed crow that was perched up in front of him. 

‘What is your rate?’ She calmly inquired. 

‘It depends on the job. Small birds and animals start at thirty bucks, and then it can go up to a couple of thousand for a full deer, buck or elk.’ 

She went quiet on the line. He could tell she was busy writing something down, possibly a calculation. He hated long silences, it gave him indigestion.   

‘What would you like to have mounted?’ He nudged, just to check that she was still there. She remained quiet. 

‘Hellooo?’

‘Ten thousand.’

‘Excuse me?’ He quickly asked to confirm that he probably misheard.  

‘Ten. Thousand.’ She repeated sternly. 

‘Ma’am. What do you want to have done?’ His stomach started to tie knots of doubt, anticipating a job he may not be able to do. 

‘I prefer a private meeting to discuss this further.’ Her tone suddenly changed from a sweet old lady to an office crank complaining it’s cold. He hesitated for a second. Feeling his gut whisper all tales of caution to avoid this type of interaction. “If it’s too good to be true…” he would always remind himself. 

But…then again...

The ten thousand dollars started to swim through his mind like a beautiful woman in a red bikini, blowing kisses from a crystal blue pool. Caught in the moment, he impulsively replied, ‘Okay.’ She quickly confirmed that her people will be in contact with his people and disconnected before he could even take a breath to say he doesn’t have “people”. 

Confused about the call and left with nothing to follow up with, he decided to write it off as another crazy old lady from one of the care homes who got hold of the nurse’s office phone. Eyeing the cotton-eye-crow, he proceeded to hit play on his stereo, threw his mobile on the couch and stuck the tweezers back in his mouth to finish the job.

NEXT CHAPTER COMING SOON

[kerfufflewatch]

Candy/ pastries or your pain is mine

everyone asked for candy/pastries, and I wrote way too much, and I’m pretending that’s because everyone asked for it and not because I have no self-control

[on AO3]

--

"Kinda surprised you like sweet stuff that much," McCree remarks. 

Hanzo only gives him the barest of glances before returning his attention to the doughnut box on the counter. McCree had found a proper doughnut shop while they were here in the States--one of those local places that was big enough to be noteworthy but small enough to still have product worth talking about--and brought back a solid half-dozen to the safehouse. It was, admittedly, entirely too much sugar even for two grown men, but it'd been a long and frankly boring mission and he thought they deserved something.

After a moment's deliberation, Hanzo liberates the box of its blueberry cake doughnut and sets it on a napkin that is already dusted with crumbs and flakes of glaze. "And why is that?" he asks as he sets to pouring a cup of coffee. 

"Dunno. You're so fit. Figured you were one of those guys who counted every calorie and eats their body weight in protein every day."

Hanzo snorts softly at that. "The fact that I put some thought into my meal composition, unlike some people, does not make me obsessed."

"Mmhm."

Hanzo shoots him a glare that is more amused than annoyed, then returns to his coffee. "You are not too far off, I suppose," he says, slowly pouring milk into his cup until it reaches the precise color he deems acceptable. "When I was younger, I did maintain a much stricter diet--it was considered childish to indulge in something with no health benefits. After, it simply became one of those things that I did not need and did not permit myself."

"And now?"

"Now I have learned that denying myself cake will not restore my honor." His coffee spoon clinks sharply against the countertop.

"Nah. Not unless it was a real good cake." Hanzo laughs a little and, as always, it makes McCree's heart flutter and his mouth incapable of shutting up just in case he can get Hanzo to do it again. "What's your favorite, then?"

Hanzo has to think on that for a moment. Then he answers, "Taiyaki, I think. Although to be fair, I think it is mostly whatever I am in the mood for."

McCree hides his smile in his coffee cup. He really is too far gone to be helped. "Fair enough."

"What about you?"

McCree shrugs. "Never had that much of a sweet tooth, to be honest. I mean, yeah, here and there," he adds, gesturing vaguely at the doughnut box, "but . . . I guess I'd never turn down a slice of apple pie, though."

The corner of Hanzo's mouth lifts in something that might be amusement, though McCree's not sure why. "Really."

"Used to drive my mamá mad. She must've disowned me six or seven times for it, back in the day. Why not her flan, or sopapillas, or something else she had a family recipe for." McCree chuckles at the old memory, his mother sighing and putting her flour-dusted hands on her hips as her son continued to betray their proud Mexican heritage. "But yeah. That's the favorite, I think."

Hanzo laughs softly. "A troublemaker at every turn."

"That's me." McCree brushes past Hanzo to pour himself another cup of coffee. Going by the files Winston sent this morning, it’s looking like it might be a half-pot kind of day. “Gotta say, though, damn hard to find any decent apple pie out where we’re stationed. They got stuff like it around, I guess, but none of it’s quite right. Think the last time I had any was . . .”

He trails off. He’d been about to say it was probably the better part of a year and a half, but come to think of it, it’s probably been about a year. It wasn’t much, but he remembers now: serving himself a cup of burnt diner coffee and a slice of pie from the display case, sitting in a cracked vinyl seat with the best view of the railroad over the gorge, getting one bite in before having to abandon it. He’d barely appreciated it at the time with his attention focused elsewhere, but the taste of tart apple and sweet cinnamon had lingered on his tongue through the hell that followed, mixed with gunpowder and dust.

“McCree?”

McCree blinks out of his reverie. His sugar spoon still hovers over his coffee, teetering and threatening to spill. He hastily dumps the sugar and gives it a stir. “Sorry. Got a little distracted there,” he says, putting on an easy smile. “Was a bit of a rough day last time, is all.”

Hanzo seems unconvinced, but he knows when to let things drop. It’s one of the many things McCree appreciates about him. 

They lapse into a companionable quiet. Hanzo breaks off a small piece of the doughnut and pops it into his mouth. He absentmindedly sucks a crumb off the pad of his thumb, and McCree forgets all about pointing out that he'd actually bought that particular doughnut for himself. 

—

They're both sent back to the States again within the month, but on separate, minor missions. Hanzo goes off with his brother and Angela. McCree tries not to think about how irritable that makes him. 

McCree's sent out on a solo mission for three weeks, investigating a business out in Canada Winston worries might have some Talon ties. It looks and acts like a standard accounting firm, and three weeks of running coffee and organizing files doesn’t give McCree any reason to believe otherwise. The tedium slowly grates on his nerves, and being treated like a witless errand boy does so more quickly, until he’s certain that he has none left carrying him through. 

The whole thing is made worse by having to maintain radio silence the entire three weeks. He wasn't necessarily the sort to enjoy long text conversations or phone calls, but he could always count on a wry response from Angela or Genji if he sent them updates or complaints, and Lena and Mei sometimes just liked to check in. He gets none of this, though, and it leaves him far too much time to think. 

And of course, because his heart's a goddamn fool, he finds himself missing Hanzo the most. 

For a while, as one does once a crush starts to become a little bit desperate, McCree entertains the notion of telling Hanzo in a variety of ways. With how long they've known each other, just asking for a date seems too distant. Grand gestures are something, but anything too grand would just leave Hanzo embarrassed and irritable regardless of how he felt in return. He doesn't know when Hanzo's birthday is and asking Genji would mean any surprise would be ruined. 

At some point, he remembers the conversation with Hanzo during their last mission, and he thinks for far too long about gifting Hanzo with some sort of sweet thing. Cakes and candies were romantic, weren't they? Except something generic would go over about as well as a snowball taking a lovely vacation in Hell, and Hanzo deserves better than some dime-a-dozen chocolates. 

He dithers and sighs and eventually forgets about the whole thing after a week or so, and the conversation shortly thereafter. The whole idea is a fool's errand, anyway--it all assumes that Hanzo would want him at all. 

Just before he can drive himself mad with hypotheticals,  he digs up a handwritten set of budgets in someone's locked office desk that, even coded and vague, implicate the business in some illicit dealings quite nicely. He activates the little automatic drone that helpfully scans and uploads all of the pages straight to  Athena and Winston, neatly replaces everything, and slips out of the city the moment he is given the all-clear. 

By the time he gets back to Gibraltar, the combination of a shitty mission and an equally shitty flight has him too exhausted and irritable. He checks in with Winston, drags himself through the shower, and flops onto his bed. He’s too antsy for sleep, but he can at least use a few minutes with his eyes closed before he has to dodge the rest of the team to find food. 

He only gets a couple of minutes before there is a knock on his door. He sighs up at the ceiling. “Just a sec.”

His irritation all but evaporates when he opens the door to find Hanzo on the other side. He has a paper bag in one arm, wafting the rich scent of food, and a bottle of whiskey in the other. 

"Well damn," McCree says. "Rollin' out a hero's welcome."

Hanzo rolls his eyes, even as he smiles. "Hello to you, as well. I thought you might like to celebrate your success, but if not . . ."

McCree snorts. "Success. Yeah. We'll call it that." 

His tone makes Hanzo's smile immediately drop in a way that makes McCree's stomach do the same.

"Was I mistaken?" Hanzo asks. "The mission brief suggested you were successful, but . . ."

McCree groans, rubbing his hands down his face. “No, you weren't. Sorry, Han," he says wearily. "Was just a long, frustrating sort of job. Bunch of annoying assholes, then me doing a whole lot of nothin’ to prove that they’re assholes. Got me in a bit of a mood, y’know?”

“Oh. I am sorry. Perhaps I should have considered--would you like me to go?”

His expression of mild concern might have fooled anyone else, but McCree knows better nowadays, and he sees the flash of disappointment as it crosses his face. "No, 'course not," he says. "Just warnin' you I might not be the best company."

Hanzo nods, but his brow is still pinched with uncertainty. McCree reaches to take the bag. "Got a couple glasses if you wanna pour us a drink," he says, nodding to the pair he keeps on his desk just for this purpose. 

"I--yes."

McCree pauses as he lifts the first box out of the bag. "Seriously, what's buggin' you?"

"It is nothing."

It's clearly not nothing, but no amount of prying will get Hanzo to talk if he doesn't want to. He unpacks both their meals, but pauses when he finds a third box at the bottom of the bag. This one is smaller and clearly from a different place entirely. 

He looks questioningly at Hanzo, but he is pointedly not watching McCree, pretending to need his entire focus to pour their drinks. McCree opens the box.

What he finds is an apple pie. A full one, untouched, with the slightly uneven look to the crust that comes from something handmade. He looks to Hanzo again, his mouth running dry. 

"Why . . . ?" he starts, and finds himself unable to finish the question.

Hanzo sits on the edge of the bed and shrugs one shoulder, now very interested in the contents of his glass. "We ended up getting dinner the last night of our mission," he says, too casually. "One of their specialties was apparently their pies, and I remembered what you had said before."

Forgetting dinner entirely, McCree grabs one of the forks from the bag and carves out a piece of the pie right from the center. Hanzo mutters "That is barbaric," but is ignored. 

It's good, definitely one of the better apple pies he's had--tart apples and sweet cinnamon, perfectly flaky crust that just about melts on the tongue. But it's the full realization of what Hanzo's done--not only remembering some inane conversation from weeks ago, but going out of his way to bring back a gift--that has him struggling to speak.

"Thank you, Hanzo" McCree says when he finally has his voice again. "This is real nice of you." Hanzo gives him a halfhearted smile. "Is this what's been eatin' at you this whole time?"

Hanzo purses his lips and runs his fingertip around the rim of his glass, which is now conspicuously empty. It is a long moment before he answers. "I had hoped to--to have a rather different conversation, but now I believe it might be better saved for another time, if you are not feeling well. It is no matter."

McCree's heart feels full to bursting. He sets aside the box and sits beside Hanzo on the bed. He knocks his hand lightly against Hanzo's and leaves it there, fingers resting in the valleys of Hanzo's knuckles. "Dunno," he says. "Seems like it might be somethin' worth talking about to me."

Realization dawns on Hanzo's face slowly. When he finally meets McCree's eye again, it's with a shy, sweet smile.

Much later, after confessions and dinner and a few self-conscious laughs are shared, McCree offers to split the rather large piece of pie with Hanzo. It's good, and he ends up eating most of it, but finds it tastes better off Hanzo's lips.

[heystuckstuck]

doll parts part one

eridan ampora x reader

part one ==> HERE

part two ==> coming soon!!! <3

YOU ==> WAKE UP

You do. You are sprawled out on your own bed, which is soft, softer than anything you’ve slept on in awhile. You are lying on your stomach, your arms crooked under your pillow to support your head. This is the way you almost always sleep. Your phone dings to the left side of your head, and you blearily shift to your side to check it. It would appear that someone is trying to get ahold of you.

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trollling chumHandle [CH]

CC: )(-Ey t)(-Er-E, Y/N!

CC: )(ow ar-E you f-E-Eling today?

CH: im feeling fairly pleasant atm

CH: just woke up

CH: you?

CC: I’m FINTASTIC!!!

CC: )(-E-E )(-E-E

CH: cute

CH: glad to see youre still doing the fish pun thing

CH: why exactly do you do it?

CC: I lik-E fish

CC: SO!!!

CH: :?

CC: ar-E you coming to my party tonight?

CC: I r-E-Elly hope so!

CH: shore

CH: ;)

CC: Aww )(-E-E )( -E-E!

CC: You us-Ed a fish pun

CC: )(ow glubbing cut-E!

CH: thank you, fef

CC: And don’t fr-Et!

CC: W-E’ll have som-Ebody watch out for you!

CC: So what )(app-En-Ed last tim-E won’t )(app-En again!

CH: …

CC: I’m sorry!

CC: I shouldn’t )(av-E brought it up

CC: 38(

CH: no, that’s ok

CH: it happened

CH: it’s okay to talk about it

CC: )(ow was it?

CH: how was what?

CC: T)(-E )(ospital?

CH: it was ok

CH: im totally better

CC: I’m sure as s)(-Ell glad to )(-Ear it!

CC: Sollux and the cr-Ew will b-E t)(-Er-E to pick you up

CH: the crew?

CC: I’m not shor-E who it’ll b-E but Sollux is driving a bunch of our fri-Ends ov-Er

CC: I asked )(im to pick you up too!

CC: 38)

CH: thanks feferi

CH: youre the best

CC: I c-Ertainly try

CC: T)(-Er-E’s no way to wink at you wit)( my -Emoticon

CC: So just picture t)(at in your )(-Ead

CH: ;)

chumHandle [CH] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling chumHandle [CH]

TA: y/n

CH: sollux

TA: thii2 ii2 gonna be a really weiird que2tiion

TA: plea2e don’t get mad

TA: but

TA: would you fuck ed

CH: what why

TA: becau2e seniior year is almo2t here and iif he doe2nt lo2e hii2 viirgiiniity before hii2 biirthday ii can’t be hii2 friiend anymore

CH: what makes you so sure he’s a virgin

TA: y/n

CH: fair point

TA: ii ju2t know that you have 2ome pretty lax 2tandard2

CH: are you calling me a “2lut”

CH: is that what’s happening right now

TA: god no

TA: ii ju2t wanna get the ba2tard laiid

CH: fine, i’ll do it

TA: y/n you are a 2aiint

TA: 2eriiou2ly

TA: nobody el2e would touch that ugly fucker with a ten foot pole

CH: you and i both know that eridan isn’t ugly

CH: he’s actually quite handsome

TA: god gro22

TA: ju2t thank you

TA: you’re doiing u2 all a favor really

TA: ed fuck2 you and then he’ll 2hut hiis fuckiing iidiiot mouth about not fuckiing anythiing

CH: how many times are you gonna say fuck

TA: fuck

CH: that’s fair

CH: yeah i’ll do it

TA: cool

TA: fiinger gun2

TA: ii’ll piick you up at 6

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling chumHandle [CH]

Sollux is there for you promptly at six o’clock. You’re standing on the curb, waiting for him, when his familiarly tiny rusty red car pulls up alongside you. The music is so loud you can hear it through the closed doors and when you glance in the passenger’s side window, Aradia gestures her thumb back behind her. She must’ve called shotgun, or maybe Sollux got her first. You open the door to the backseat and clamber inside.

Karkat is on the far end, smushed into the door. He looks as disagreeable as always but he offers you a softer-than-usual smile as he adjusts his traditional black t-shirt. Eridan, in between the two of you, looks far more uncomfortable. You notice the way he is desperately trying not to look at you and in retaliation, you put a soft hand on his thigh. He looks as though he might faint, cheeks flushed and forehead beaded with sweat. He doesn’t say anything to you, but Karkat does.

“Alright, Y/N?”

Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

Karkat shrugs although from the hunch of his shoulders, you can tell he wants to argue. Everyone knows that he’s lying. You know he’s lying. You know why everybody wants to know if you’re alright. And frankly, it’s nobody’s fucking business.

Not even if they stroked your hair and whispered soft little nothings to you all the way to the emergency room. Not even then.

As you walk into the party, you notice a tall, slim figure posed at the front of the grand entrance hall. He’s smoking a cigarette and he has sunglasses on indoors. Dave Strider. He greets your friends casually but when he gets to you he falters and peers at you over the top of his shades.

“All better, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m totally better. I eat almonds and yogurt and soup.” He nods curtly, but you can see the tension in his face. It would be difficult to miss, as difficult to miss as those reddish brown eyes of his. You remember the last time you saw them.

You were lying on your back with the left side of your face caked in vomit. Your limbs were seizing up and you wanted to scream but it was like your voice was invisible. Dave knelt over you, eyes as wide as saucers as he begged you to stay awake, please stay awake, oh god, what did you do, why did you do this, god no, please no, no no no no no nonononononononononono.

And you put your hand on his face and said, “Hello David.” Or tried to. You’re sure that what came out was a flubbed version.

“What did you take?” He’s begging you please tell him, tell him so he can get you to the hospital and they can pump your stomach, god please.

“13 valiums and a bottle of gin.” You try to tell him that you were just trying to float and stop your misery and stop the not eating and stop stop stop stop stop. But he can’t hear you. He screams out a feeble and watery Karkat and then you’re in a car with Karkat petting you and his mouth was moving but all you could hear were sirens. You wanted to sleep more than anything but Karkat kept shoving you awake and talking to you and telling you stories and begging you don’t go to sleep, no.

So you suppose if anyone has the right to ask you if you’re okay, it’s Dave, and you’d better tell him too. So you do, but you can tell that he doesn’t fully believe you, but to your relief, he leaves it.

The music is loud. It makes your ears numb. You see Feferi but you don’t go and say hi because she’s kissing Sollux on his mouth and tracing her fingers up his arm and you know you shouldn’t interrupt, so you don’t and push your way further through Feferi’s house. The lights are all pink and blue and hazy and you can’t see through the smoke in the air and you can taste the acrid tang of cigarettes in the back of your mouth, which makes it feel like cotton. You stumble and trip over something-someone lying on a beanbag on the floor, who doesn’t try to catch you when you fall into his bony chest.

“Well hey there, little sis, how’s it motherfuckin’ hangin’?” It’s Gamzee, with his dark, splotchy face and lazy looking eyes and dopey grin. He doesn’t help you up, the idea doesn’t even seem to occur to him. His eyes are bloodshot and his left hand’s slender fingers grip a short, lit blunt, which he offers to you.

“You want a hit?” Nobody except him in your friend group smokes pot. They drink and snort crushed up pills but they don’t smoke weed. You’ve tried it before, but only a few times. You didn’t like how it stung your throat and made you cough.

“Nah, that stuff makes you hungry.” That was your least favorite thing about it. The last time you smoked pot, you’d woken up naked on John’s couch with your hands and chest smeared in food goop and no memory of how it got there. You didn’t need that again. Gamzee doesn’t seem to mind, and just takes another drag.

“It’s no problem sis, more for me.” You watch him as he puffs on it again, noting the way the slight orange glow offsets the neon lights in the room.

“Anyway, chica, long time no see. How’s it been?” You shrug and Gamzee laughs.

“That’s so motherfuckin’ righteous, sister. Seriously, be all up and motherfuckin’ careful. Don’t want anything bad happening to you or anything.” You’re dumbstruck by the fact that Gamzee of all people, slow-witted, slow-reacting, oblivious, with a brain half-ruined y marijuana knows. God, how does Gamzee know?

“I saw you, all up and covered in that puke. Shit, y’know, it fuckin’ scared me. I love you and I don’t want you to die or anything. You were shaking and crying and everyone was all just sitting there, not knowing what to up and do. It was the opposite of a miracle. But maybe the fact that you’re not dead is a miracle and whatever god exists kept you alive for us. I’m motherfuckin’ happy about that. I’d miss you if you were dead. I think everybody would, even if they pretend they wouldn’t.”

Gamzee then punctuates his profound statement with a soft belch and he gives you a watery, peaceful smile, close-lipped, with his eyes shut. You return the smile, though yours is more strained than his because god just stop fucking talking about it.You get it. You don’t really want to be dead anymore but you wish everyone would stop reminding you of it. You want to forget as much as anybody else. You never wanted everyone to see you, shaking on the floor, eyes rolled up into the back of your head with foam oozing from between your lips all over your white tanktop, staining it pink. You want to forget. You want to forget Feferi screaming and and Sollux saying, hush, hush, FF, it’s okay, and Dave’s tears dribbling onto your face and getting into your mouth. They were salty on your numb tongue.

Gamzee’s hand begins to snake down the front of his sweatpants and you decide to leave before this gets awkward. You abandon Gamzee and trip on your way to the stairs, which you clamber up, on your way to Feferi’s second story bathroom. You don’t have to go, you just want to inspect Feferi’s mom’s medicine cabinet, see if she’s gotten anything new since the last time you were here, before. Before. Before you took John’s grandmother’s pills out of the kitchen and fell on the floor and Feferi screamed and Dave cried and Karkat crooned in your ear and you felt more loved than you ever had before, which was bullshit because of course everyone loves you when you try to die.

She doesn’t have anything new, you note with mild disappointment, pocketing some old pills that haven’t been touched since the last time you were here. You read the label before hiding them. Oxytocin. Pain pills. You shove it, along with your hands into your oversized maroon jacket, and just in time too, because the door you were certain you locked opens to your right. You turn and meet an abashed-looking Tavros, his face alcohol and embarrassment-flushed.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that anybody would be in here. I just needed to, um, well, yeah, you know.” He stumbles over his words and looks flustered, so you smile at him.

“Oh, that’s alright, I was just leaving.” You grab a tiny white paper cup, designed for mouthwash and fill it with water before exiting the bathroom, brushing past Tavros’s shoulder. He closes the door and you pull out the pills and take two with the shot of water you have. You aren’t addicted to popping pills, but it is an outstanding interest of yours. You wait a few minutes and then you feel fuzzy and it’s a bit like you’re walking on the ceiling as you trample down the hallway. You walk back down the stairs on watery legs, trying admirably not to fall on your face, which you don’t.

You walk to the kitchen, where Vriska is leaning with her back and elbows resting against the counter. Terezi and John are with her and you notice them eye you suspiciously as you open up all of the cabinets and count the cans inside.

“Hungry?” John asks, voice shaking a little bit. You remember seeing him, driving the car, speeding down the freeway, pedal to the metal. He kept frantically glancing back at you, blue eyes enormous, even more so than usual. Hs too-large front teeth were worrying his bottom lip and his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. You know why his voice is shaking. You’re starting to get tired of this.

“No.”

“What’re you doing then?”

“Counting.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding uneasy. God, why can’t people just stop being fucking worried about you? Why does John have to quirk his perfectly arched and adorable eyebrows at you like that? Why does he have to bite his lip and why does goddamn Vriska of all people look worried about you? You know perfectly well the reason why, but you don’t care. You don’t care that they all saw you. That everyone knows. You couldn’t care less.

You exist through the backdoor in the kitchen because you need some air, jesus. You can’t stand the way they all look at you, with such pity and fear. It was a mistake and you’ll never live it down because you scared everybody shitless. You take a deep breath of untainted air and somebody sighs right after you exhale. What the hell?

“What the hell?” You glance around and huddled at your feet is Eridan, his floral short-sleeve button down too tight in the arms. He’s wearing slacks too, which is such an Eridan thing to do and you are filled with an overwhelming surge of affection toward your friend. This is all he is, your friend. Your friend that might fuck you later, according to Sollux.

You flop down next to him. He doesn’t react, just takes a long sip from his red plastic cup. It’s probably beer, which you’re sure upsets his sensitive palette but he’s actively not complaining in dramatic, emotional theatrics for once so you don’t question it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing out here, ‘Dan?”

“Everywhere else was full.” It’s true. All of your friends are rambunctiously partying in every corner of Feferi’s party. Except the bedrooms, you suppose. But maybe Feferi and Sollux have already made their way there, you know they will eventually and Feferi will call you tomorrow and tell you all about it. You know every detail of her sex life. She knows every detail of yours and while you are always supportive, sometimes she frowns at you and shakes her head.

“Ah.”

You’re both silent for awhile, the only sounds being of your breath and Eridan sipping his beer solemnly and yet, delicately. Feferi has a trampoline in her backyard and you haven’t jumped around and just had fun in god knows how long so you get up and offer your hand to Eridan. He accepts, although with a cocked eyebrow, and his hand still firmly in yours, you guide him to the trampoline.

“Really, Y/N? You wanna play on the goddamn trampoline? That’s fairly, just, it’s juvenile, don’t you think?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And you take off your shoes and fling your body onto the black netting and bounce a few times. Eridan hesitantly follows you.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Let them. We’re young and you’re drunk and I want to fly,” you say, leaping into the air and coming down with a spring. Eridan doesn’t jump at first, not until you grab his sleeve and tug on it and oh, Danny, I’m having so much fun, I’m flying, this is like the fucking Notebook, I’m a fucking bird, tell me I’m a bird like the Notebook. You’re laughing hysterically at yourself and Eridan is fucking giggling at you and then he starts jumping too and you dance in circles with only the soundtrack of summer cicadas to keep a melody. You grab his hands and his fingers twine with yours and suddenly he’s falling and you’re bouncing your back against the trampoline, narrowly avoiding hitting your head as Eridan lands on top of you and bounces off but only after squishing the life out of you.

You’re laughing so hard no sound is coming out and you’re gasping and so is he and you grab his hand from where he’s laying beside you.

You look up at the stars. You haven’t seen the stars in over six weeks. You missed them.

“So, how are you, Y/N? I’m sure sorry that I couldn’t come an’ visit you.” You do the best shrug you can while lying down.

“Nobody was allowed to visit me, except in the ER.”

“Still, I should’ve come. Fef went. John went.”

“They’re the only ones that did.”

“Really?” His voice is incredulous.

“Everyone texted. Until I had to go to the psych ward. Then I wasn’t allowed texts anymore.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You don’t want to be sad anymore so you change the subject.

“Eridan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to fuck me later?” He chokes, a loud spluttering cough, and jerks up to lay on his arm, staring down at you.

“What?!”

“Sollux told me that you were going to.”

“God, oh fuck, he told me-he-he said-he told me you didn’t know!”

“I know.”

“Well, I know that now!”

“It’s okay. If you want to, I’m okay with it.”

“Okay with what?”

“You fucking me.”

His face flared red, which was a feat in and of itself because his skin was soft brown. He looked beautiful in the starlight: his eyes, a gorgeous golden-hazel with long, dark lashes, his nose sturdy and strong, his lips fairly thick and soft and most especially the freckle he had, on the left corner of his bottom lip. His hair fell in his face, dark brown and highlighted by a thick bleached streak in the front. He wasn’t just pretty, not just beautiful, he was gorgeous. You wouldn’t mind snagging his virginity. Not one bit.

“I don’t think-I mean-well-I-I-I want to but I just think that maybe we should wait on that.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his eyes, fighting down a pang of disappointment, “But if Sollux asks, you can say you did.”

His eyes narrow a bit and then he’s nervously looking at anything but you.

���But I wanted to know. Could you, maybe-I don’t-just-kiss me?” You smile, a full grin with teeth showing an everything.

“Yes, Eridan.”

And then you get up to your knees and pull him up to meet you and your lips are together and his lips are soft, a bit firmer than you imagined, and they’re clumsy and he accidentally clips your teeth together. You wrap an arm over his shoulder and he puts his hands at your small waist, pressing on your hips with his fingertips. You reach your other hand down and take his. You guide it over your breast and his whole body stiffens. His fingers begin to itch around and grope at the soft flesh under his hand and you slip your lips down to his neck. He makes a noise that is a cross between a purr and a croon and you push him down beneath you. The two of you break apart and he stares up at you, fingers touching his swollen bottom lip like he can’t believe what just happened. You realize suddenly that you just bagged his first kiss. You gently kiss his cheek and roll off of his abdomen.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re inside on the couch with Eridan spooned up behind you. A shirtless Equius lays across the floor with Nepeta’s head on his belly. Terezi’s legs are sprawled across her chest. Everyone else is still asleep but you can feel Eridan start to stir behind you. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and mumbles a quiet good morning into the skin.

“Morning.”

“Mm.”

“Eridan?”

“Hm?”

“Your stiffy’s digging into my back.”

“M’sorry.”

“S’okay.”

[timelord-winchester-22b]

Winchester Protection

What is this? A REQUEST? How odd... Anyway, I think this was from a whole year ago by now, but I wrote it anyway. You never know, I might actually write all those requests I’ve been gathering for ages...

@phantom-adele-24601-deactivated asked:

Hello! Can you write a Sam Winchester imagine in which he is super protective? But not in an annoying but in a cute way? Thank you!

I kinda strayed from this a lot and... I don’t even know if this person will ever see this, but this fic is finally here...

Your clothes, as a hunter, were mostly denim, flannel and leather. So it was kind of refreshing in a way to put something else on. Of course, the clothes you were day-to-day were the durable kind of comfortable. They had to be, considering your job. The leather jacket you’d taken a liking to had delayed vampires and werewolves from biting before, so it comforted you a little. You had to remind yourself as you dressed to leave that you weren’t going to go up against one tonight. Just maybe a ghost trying to pull all your hair out. Well, that’s what it’d been doing to it’s victims so far.

You tried not to think of that possibility while you were getting ready. You had spent too long fixing your hair for this for it to be torn out by a sadistic ghost. And you didn’t fancy your make up being ruined by blood tonight. But who were you kidding, that was likely to happen anyway. You sighed at that thought, deciding you’d done enough to look decent. There was a knock at your door just as you were adjusting your dress one last time and grabbing your sparkly purse.

“Come on out (Y/N), taking longer doesn’t make you more of a girl” Dean joked. You heard Sam snap something back and the sound of them bickering all the way back down the hall. You smirked, remembering the fact that the boys had never seen you in anything but your jeans and flannel. It had become a joke between you and the brothers, you weren’t much of a girl on the day-to-day. Oh but this would be fun.

You headed out after being sure they had gone back to the library to wait. The place you’d have to get into would be far more upper-class than any of you were used to. So you were of course also excited to see them dressed up. That thought had you walking a bit fast down the hall, your heels clicking on the hard floors as you entered the library. The brothers were still bickering as you walked in, both looking quite handsome. They didn’t look up for a moment, too caught up in their argument.

“Hey, (Y/N)” Sam spoke up, cutting off his brother. “Would you tell Dean that-” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp as he finally took in your appearance. Dean glanced over at his reaction and whistled loudly.

“You look damn good (Y/N)” Dean pointed out, smirking. “Hey Sam” He nudged his brother, who was still staring at you with his mouth slightly open. “Sam, doesn’t she look good?”

“Oh, yeah” Sam nodded, snapping out of it. “Yeah she- you look really good (Y/N). You look… yeah” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You smiled, trying to hide the smirk in it like Dean wasn’t.

“Thanks boys” You grinned. “You both clean up good” You pointed out, joining them by the table. You couldn’t help but notice how closely Sam’s eyes followed you. “We ready to go?”

~~~~~~~~~~

You nearly laughed when Sam opened your door for you when you got there, but only grinned at him. He grinned back, offering a hand in a gentlemanly manner. You did laugh that time, taking his hand and letting him help you out. Dean rolled his eyes as he tugged at his cuffs. He was obviously having a much less pleasant time than you two. You both simply ignored his grumpiness, and you hooked your arm through Sam’s as you headed inside. The place was big and elegant and to put it frankly, not a place you thought you belonged. But you were dressed right for the most part, at least tonight.

“Hey” Sam called quietly, drawing your attention. He looked slightly concerned, maybe he’d realized your train of thought. He smiled reassuringly. “Can I get a drink for the most lovely lady in the room?” He offered, tilting his head in the direction of the drinks table. You grinned, unable to help yourself in the face of his flattery.

“We should really be trying to find this ghost-”

“We know who the guy’s after, and as long as she’s in our sights..” Sam glanced at the drinks table again and that time you noticed the hostess; a very glamorous looking up woman with elegantly styled bleach blonde hair and a dress that sparkled more than the chandelier above your head. She appeared to be scolding a waiter. “We’re still doing our job” Sam finished. “So, drink?” You smiled again, giving a short nod in response. Sam assured you he’d only be a moment before he headed over to make your drink the way you liked it.

You were barely standing on your own for five minutes, scanning the room for any signs of the ghost you were expecting, when a stranger in a black tux and a sleazy smile sidled up beside you.

“Hello gorgeous” He greeted, taking a sip from his drink, obviously a very diluted alcohol, probably thinking it made him look cool. You sighed, glancing away. Maybe you should’ve just gone with your usual outfit.

“Sorry, I’m here with someone” You informed him curtly. He laughed a little.

“I don’t see anyone here, babe”

You rolled your eyes, catching a glass of the strongest thing you could see off the tray of a passing waiter. You held up a hand to keep him there for the moment it took you to down the drink and return it to the tray. Definitely not the nicest taste, but you decided you needed it if this guy was gonna keep it up. You thanked the waiter as he moved on. Speaking of the guy still standing beside you, he was now staring at you with wide eyes.

“So you like the strong stuff, eh babe?”

“Figured I’d need it with you hanging around” You sighed. He frowned. Sam rejoined you at that exact moment and you took your drink from him gratefully while he frowned at the man beside you.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked, glancing at you.

“Guy who wouldn’t leave” You shrugged.

“Guy who’s a bit fed up with you treating me like trash. You didn’t even ask me my name!”

“Didn’t want to know” You shrugged.

“Why you-” The man narrowed his eyes at you, passing off his drink to a nearby waiter.

“I think that’s about enough” Sam told the man in a warning tone, getting between him and you while you sipped your drink. The man glared at him and then you one last time before taking a step back.

“Fine, you keep her” He sneered, stalking off.

“Gladly” Sam muttered under his breath. His gaze softened when he looked back at you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine” You assured him, trying to hide the fact that you were a little struck by his last comment. You glanced away from him, hoping to ensure he wouldn’t catch you blushing. Sam tried to get your attention back but before he could achieve this you had taken off, striding across the room towards a doorway. A doorway you had just watched your glamorous hostess disappear through. Sam followed you without questions, sensing the down-to-buisiness vibe and trusting you to have picked up on something.

You placed your glass on a small table decorative just beside the doorway as you passed it and heard the clink of Sam copying. You heard shuffling in a room not too far down the hall and slowed your steps, quietly kicking your heels off and pushing them to the side of the hall as you pulled your gun from where it was hidden; strapped to your thigh beneath your dress. Sam blinked in surprise from behind you at the reveal of your weapon, silently retrieving his own. You paused at the edge of the doorway, listening, before dashing inside.

To your disappointment, your ghost’s target was alone. The noises you’d been hearing were not the sounds of someone being attacked, but the sound of her frantically searching papers. She looked up and gasped at the sight of you standing there, a gun held pointed at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, horror in her voice. “Didn’t you say you were FBI?”

“Yes, we are” You agreed, lowing your gun.

“Except you’re not” The woman sneered suddenly. “Because I ran your silly little badges with your silly little rock band names. You don’t exist. Which makes you hunters…” You frowned, but before you could say anything you felt a hand tangle itself in your hair and pull sharply, tugging you backwards. You cried out and Sam turned with wide eyes. You dropped to the ground, but the hand didn’t loosen it’s grip. Thankfully, that’s not what you were going for. Sam now had a clear shot, and he took it. The ghost disappeared and you clambered quickly to your feet, pointing your gun again at the woman at the desk.

The blonde now held a long lock of dirty blonde hair, grinning with glee. The hair was braided and woven with herbs and other creepy stuff you didn’t want to think about. She had control of the ghost. Just great. You made your way back inside the room and up to the desk, Sam slamming the door shut behind you and keeping a look out.

“This ghost killed all of your friends, the reasonable assumption would be that you were next. The only survivor of the family business founders. Why kill them all?” You growled out.

“Why wouldn’t I? Go from a sixth of the profit to being the sole owner of one of the most profitable businesses in the state! Next up, nation wide!”

“And what, kill anyone who gets in your way?” You sneered. You hadn’t liked her from the start.

“Well I hate to sound predictable, but of course” The woman laughed. “And who else would be in my way now, but you two?” She smiled. It was at that very moment that the door burst open and Sam was knocked backwards with it. By the time you turned to confront the ghost it had already reached you, throwing you backwards against the wall. You gasped for breath, trying to spot your gun before you were attacked again. There it was, by the desk, some three feet away.

The ghost swooped down on you with a shriek, one hand in your hair and one around your throat. You really weren’t happy to find that one hand seemed to be all it took to completely cut off your air supply. It felt like only a moment, and simultaneously a lifetime before the ghost released you, stepping back and turning her attention to the woman behind the desk.

“No. No, you can’t do this” The woman begged, backing away. Sam knelt down at your side, looking you over while keeping one eye on the other occupants of the room.

“I burned the hair, why is she still here?” He questioned, frowning warily at the ghost.

“I couldn’t risk loosing her” The woman gasped. “But I only bewitched that piece! Please! Stop her!”

“I’m willing to bet that’s what your partners said to you when you set her on them” You responded evenly. “Sorry, it appears business is closed”

When the woman was taken care of, the image of the ghost faded into a much more civilized picture, turning towards you and Sam.

“Thank you” She spoke for the first time. “Please know I never wanted to hurt anyone. I never would have wanted to harm you”

“I know” You told her. She smiled and with a soft flash of light, she was gone.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Told you that woman was damn creepy”