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lazyneonrabbitt · 11 months ago

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Metalhead

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You had dragged Daryl along to something you liked last month, so now it was his turn.

To anyone around, including yourself it was clear you stood out from the crowd.

Inbetween the mass of black on black, spiked everything and the odd masked figures in red boiler suits your bright blue jeans and simple bright teeshirt.

Daryl had come along to your weekend event last month, so now it was your turn to join him to a concert.

"What's with the masks?" You were settled against Daryl's side, not entirely sure what to make of the group before you.

"Really, ya haven't paid any attention when I showed ya who we're seein' tonight?" Daryl, all decked out in his usual looks of heavy boots, black trousers with chains hanging off the belt loops and a black shirt that hugged his form ever so perfectly. It was printed with the picture of a blonde woman that you didn't recognise.

"Hey, Dixon!" A man's voice had you both turn and look behind you, where a bearded guy in a beanie walked up with two women in super gothy outfits, their makeup extreme but flawless.

You had never met Daryl's friends before and in all honesty you felt intimidated by them.

"Oh my god you brought your girl, finally!" One of the women gestured excitedly and hopped over to introduce herself, perfectly manicured hand outstretched for you to take. "Hi! I'm Viv, that's Sammy and Jesus." You shook everyone's hands and introduced yourself as well before Daryl did his rounds and gave everyone the biggest bear hugs. "Hey, hun." "How's the apartment lookin'?" "Tell yer mom I'm sorry fer not comin' over ta cook with 'er."

It was weird to see Daryl be so social. Normally he'd be the quiet one when you went out together, but now he was all smiles and talk.

"Gotta rep the guesting band, I see." The Jesus guy tugged on Daryl's shirt, staring at the print, while one of the girls chimed in. "You gotta know by now Dee's got the biggest crush on her." The three laughed as Daryl dismissed the comments, all while you stood by and listened to their banter. Who did Daryl have a crush on? What?

"Here, in case Daryl forgot to give you some." Sammy extended her hand to you and handed you a clear plastic baggie with two foam earplugs in them.

"Ah, crap.." Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously as he accepted a packet himself too. "Yer a lifesaver, Sam. Thanks."

You waited close to the front of the line for some more hours, having ordered food with a large group of people that all seemed to become friends at that moment.

Once the doors to the venue opened up you followed Daryl like a lost puppy, stuck to his arm in fear of getting lost in the sea of the dark clad people.

"Come on, Dixon, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, man. Barricade's gonna be full at this rate." His friend had already moved further along as you and Daryl put your stuff in a locker. "Go ahead. Takin' it easy with this one." Daryl's hand found your hair and ruffled it softly, much to your annoyance. But you appriciated his concern for you and was willing to not go full out.

You followed along with the stream of people and ended at the bar off to the side of the venue.

"One beer, and one--" Daryl gave you a look, and saw you just looking around the place, taking everything in. "And a Redbull, please."

By the time you had your drinks and the crowd had all settled in, the local opening band had started their first song. Daryl's beer was gone fast, kindly waiting for you to finish your overpriced can before slowly easing you into the crowd.

Every tine you stood still for a moment you took a peek at the stage, seeing the band perform the songs was something entirely different than hearing come from Daryl's huge sound installation at home.

Daryl was keeping a close eye on you the whole time, not caring much for the small band on stage. He was enjoying how curious you were. Less how easy it was to lose you in the crowd if he wasn't holding your hand.

"Yer havin' fun?" Daryl stood behind you with his hands loosely on your hips, you had found a spot closer where you could see the stage nicely.

You gave him a nod, resting your head against his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "Good, gotta lemme know when's gettin' too rowdy for ya, 'kay?"

"Promise, Dee." You turned to give him a quick kiss, laughing at how the previously considered scary people were all chanting along to the pop songs the speakers played between bands.

You were checking a few messages while you waited and hadn't noticed Daryl taking out his phone too until it was in front of you and his chin was resting on your shoulder. You looked up to see yourself on his screen, he was taking a selfie with you. Next to you he stuck out his tongue as he pressed the capture button and held it as he went to smooch your cheek.

He watched the short looping video back and added a caption before sending it off.

'Girlie's first metal gig!' He addded under it with a little black heart emoji.

The crowd around you cheered and hollered all of a sudden, making you look up and seeing the first members of the next band come onto the stage, waving and getting ready to perform.

You watched the stage didn't notice how giddy Daryl had gotten behind you. Most of the band had gotten onto the stage and an eery tune started playing that had part of the crowd whistle and cheer.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN."

Suddenly a loud, distorted voice called out from the speakers.

"I AM NOW PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU,"

More howls and whistles surrounded you as the eery tune continued.

"THE ONLY,"

"IN THIS MOMENT"

Spots beamed to the centre of the stage as a gorgeous woman appeared as the band's instruments joined the tune, starting the song.

Behind you you felt Daryl's body jerk against yours as he raised a fist and joined the crowd in cheer.

His body stayed pressed againts yours with his arms around you, hands resting on your hips and stomach as he swayed you along the tunes of the first song.

As the band played on the crowd got more rowdy, jumping around and bumping into each other making you stagger in Daryl's grip.

Daryl kept being your shield as the crowd's shoves got worse. "Ya wanna move?" He tapped your arm and pointed off to the side where you could suddenly see a wide open space inbetween the few people that separated you from it.

Over the intro tune of the song a large hole had formed in the crowd, a few people in the middle bouncing around as the lyrics went on.

With your lack of answering, Daryl just kept up holding onto you and kept his gaze between you and the pit.

The second the woman's voice went from a distorted speaking to a loud growled singing the crowd surged into the large open space, almost taking you and Daryl with them.

You didn't know where to look. The gorgeous frontwoman on the stage before you, or the massive swarm of people throwing themselves around next to you.

You peeked behind you at Daryl, who was staring, mesmerized by the woman leading the band. One arm stayed around you to ward off the thrashing crowd while the other one was raised above you in cheer.

The crowd bounced in unison making you want to join in, softly bopping to the beat on the balls of your feet. You knew nothing of the song so you went along with the crowd, much to Daryl's enjoyment as he joined in as well. You blended with the crowd now, barely noticing you were slowly moving around the floor agsin in the moving sea of people.

It was only when the band's set ended that you realised you had moved a lot closer and further off to the centre of the crowd.

Daryl had his face buried in the crook of your neck the second the band was off the stage, nuzzling against your skin and squeezing your soft thighs. "Yer havin' fun. S'good." His mumbling tone was barely audible over the waiting time music and the crowd's chatter. But you recognized the tone, he was getting high on your enjoyment. You could already tell that of the next band didn't interest him enough you'd be dragged into the nearest bathroom stall to show you just how much he loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

You found it cute how a big grump like Daryl got off on something as soft as seeing his girlfriend happy.

The intermission was a nice time to mellow out a bit before the headliner got on stage and quickly check your messages. This time it was your turn to send out a snapchat to your friends, showing them you were still alive and breathing.

A selfie of you in the dim lights with Daryl nuzzling your hair, and a simple text that read "having fun!".

While you sent away your snap and went to respond to a pauzed conversation from earlier the stagelights moved as the headliners entred the stage.

You scrambled to put your phone away with how wild the crowd got all of a sudden.

Almost immediately after the members got on stage a guitar rhytm set in and thr crowd moved around you, so much it made Daryl move along and before you knew it there was another empty space in the crowd.

Right next to where you stood at the edge of it.

The drums kicked in, joining the guitars and right next to you there were people running in circles in the open space.

Daryl had let go of you for a moment to look into the pit and right at that moment the song started in full blast. Daryl's arm got grabbed by someone passing by and got yanked into the whirlpool of people. "Sorry!" You heard him yell, leaving you on your own off to the side against his will.

"Daryl?!" You called in shock and backed up when a guy ran too close past you, stepping into another person's side.

"Ah, I'm sorry.." Your fun was gone in an instant and the guy saw it, carefully patting your arm and offering to shield you from the rowdyness of the pit. A careful nod was all you needed to share before going back to watch the band play and glance to your side whenever Daryl passed by.

You listened to the song and followed Daryl's movements, watching him throw himself around with a wide smile on his face.

With the song nearing its end the pool mellowed out and Daryl came back to you, panting and smiling, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing you in both his arms and pulling you into the still active pit, making you let out a yelp.

He moved along with the stream of people that ran in circles again and stepped back into the crowd after making two rounds, ending up almost at the centre front of the crowd.

Daryl's plan worked, snow standing close enough to his friends at the barricade. He whistled and saw Viv turn and reach out her hand to you.

"Grab, I'l follow." Daryl took the hand you didn't reach out with and you were pulled to the front with ease, quickly being squeezed between the two girls on the front row.

The view from your new spot was amazing, no heads blocking half of the stage, no shoulders moving just an inch to blind you entirely or needing to stand on your tiptoes to see.

You watched all the members perform up close, unable to resist the urge to photograph them all. It took you a moment before you noticed you recognised the song they were playing. Daryl had played it foe you, all those years back when he first got into this music.

You had heard it so often you could even hum along to the words, nodding to the rhythm. The girls beside you caught on quickly, smiling and nudging you to guide you along, showing you the 'proper barricade etiquette' as they called it.

Viv had your hand in hers, raising them together as the song ended and howled out in cheer along Sammy at your other side. Behind you Daryl, and beside him Jesus joined as well, Daryl's chest pressed against your back.

The music was loud, the crowd wild but the energy was one you never thought you'd welcome, there on your spot at the barricade of a heavy metal show.

Once the last song of the night ended you felt the cool air return around your body with the crowd leaving the hall.

"Think you swayed her?" Jesus asked Daryl. The two walked just a few steps behind you, watching you chatting happily with the two other girls beside you when you three suddenly made a turn towards the merchandise stand.

The men watched you all point out different things on the wall. "Course I did. 'S a lil' rebel, tha' one. She jus' gotta figure tha' out 'erself."

Jesus and Daryl caught up with you all, Daryl snaking his arms around your waist as he got to you. "Did ya find somethin', hun?" His chin rested on your head, taking a look at the wall for himself too as you waited for the person in front of you to finish their purchase.

"That one's pretty!" You pointed at one of thr shirts off to the side, having Daryl steer you towards the available salesperson.

"Girlie wants tha' second one op there." Daryl pointed at the shirt you liked, and moved on to some others as well. "Tour shirt in ..two XL, an' I'll take tha' last one down there."

The guy gathered all Daryl's choices and gave him the total, which Daryl happily paid before you joined your friends again off to the side.

"Always spending money, how much did you get this time?" Jesus crossed his arms as he raised a brow at Daryl, who showed him the bag with the three shirts. "Ain't much at all. Where's the girls?" Daryl looked around to find you and the others but you were nowhere to be found.

"They kidnapped her to the bathroom, probably lockers too." Jesus held out his pack of cigarettes in offer. "Smoke? I'll text them we're outside."

Daryl nodded and accepted the smokes, following his friend outside and smiling at you making new friends.

At the bathroom sink you were splashing water in your face to fully cool down and waited for the other two before heading back.

"They're outside already." The informafion came at the locker where you had left your jacket and bag, where you had told yourself earlier to try and have fun and not to worry so much.

With your jacket on and bag slung over your shoulder you left the venue to meet back up with the boys.

Daryl welcomed you by pulling you into his side. "Ya calmed down after all tha'?" His sweet smile leaked some smoke before blowing the remainder out over your head.

"Hmhm! I had more fun than I thought." You nuzzled his jacket and looked back at the friend around you. "It was really nice to meet you guys, too."

It was true, you did enjoy the event and were sure you'd be joining Daryl more often now.

With a last round of goodbyes you and Daryl left to catch the last train home, spending your late night moments almost falling asleep against him.

"C'mon. Yer takin' a shower with me 'fore we go sleep. Yer gross." Right, Daryl's after show routines, you almost forgot.

It was clear to him you were extremely tires so he made sure to treat you like a queen as he cleaned you up and dried you off, carrying you to bed and laying down with you, holding you close.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd x reader #Spotify

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willbethehero · 7 months ago

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Can already see it, loop 500 or something further along into this AU, all the Sifs are gathered by the tree, next to Loop, all of them are just dead tires and have no more "spark" in them.

Then OG Sif realizes that Loop knew the truth that there was no way out and now all they can do is rot.

Worsen the fact that, Reserch Sif knew how to end it, but because OG Sif's family isn't there any more, the wish CAN'T be broken. He can't even aruge as OG tears into him.

Housemaiden is just grasping onto Loop, desprate for this nightmare to be over. Loop can't bare to look at him or anyone else.

Cook is having another episode after getting popped like a grape by the King. Fighter can't even comfort him because he laughing mad at the idea of another Sif just as easily replacing him back home.

Then all the Sifs just start crying in varying levels of intensity. All of them want to go back home. To their families.

Cook is the worst, followed by Fighter. Housemaiden is next. Resercher only has a few drops. But OG?

He's not crying.

He just snaps and opts to head into the House, again, in a death march. Everyone else is too out of it to stop him except Loop, who instead just has GUILT.

And unlike afterwards, if/when Sif snaps and becomes the Lost One...

Nobody would be able to stop him.

No cap, Full Siffrin Party. Og Sif in the middle of timeloops wakes up and finds the roleswaps of himself where his party was and becones more and more deranged as everyone looks like him (and then turns oit to actually BE him).

And then Loop is like: "Stardust.... what the F***?" And then gets unknowningly hit on by Fighter Sif while also learning he and Isa are already bonded while Resercher Sif anyalizes them like some Cryptid. Meanwhile, Sif is currently having another breakdown and is comforted by Cook Sif while Housemaiden Sif is already fast asleep and already over the shock.

Also, every other Sif calls Housemaiden Sif the worst housemaiden in history.

OG Sif waking up in the middle of their loops to find their whole team got switched with weird versions of themself sounds like the start of a comedy skit and I am HERE for that energy! with the added bonus of confusing them so much it almost snaps them out of their timeloop funk GRIEF Loop is gonna have a stroke and a half- one stardust is bad enough! FIVE OF THEM AT ONCE is a recipe for disaster and shenanigans. Loop is going to find new depths to their loathing and also discover new things about themself. in more ways than one. It'd be a complete and utter trainwreck but boy howdy we want to watch the crash in slow motion and maybe blow up the bridge to make the firework show better

#ISAT Role!Swap AU #bad end au #Isat au #in stars and time au #in stars and time spoilers #You Mossy #infect me with ideas most foul.#Every Siffrin is a crybaby /j #This truely was In Stars and Tine #In terms of tear presure #Poor Cook is like a waterfall #Fighter is more like a open tap #Housemaiden is like a sprinkler #Resercher is a closed tap #but has those annoying drops that wake you.#Again #Meanwhile #Loop is just silently accepting whatever comes next.#And holds poor Housemaiden tight.

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zerosconsort · 10 months ago

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Zero's Fic Binding - Interim

Interim by starkraving ( @punishandenslavesuckers)

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Ship: Link/Zelda/Ganon

Start date: 5/25/24

End Date: 7/31/24

Pages: 274

Alright - this bind was more of a surprised then i expected it to be. Not only because this fic gave me trouble, but because the final bind turned out really nice.

Cover first -

So this was my firs real try to overlay vinyl. First time using 3 colors, and first tine actually laying vinyl on top of other vinyl. This was not the original cover i made - it's like, the third version, but I really like how it came out. Wanted the curved patterns and the flowers that look like a silent princess. I fussy built the sword so that the triforce was visible. Overall? Love the finished look.

Spine for this is also pretty fire. These tiny lines were less of a pain then I expected them to be to weed.

Headband shot. This is the second headband I did; no the most beautiful thing, but not the worst. Looking back now i can tell the paper is not great.

The typset for this is very simple. In the story, the curse slowly gets stronger and stronger - and i related to that in the headers with the black creeping in the further into the story you get.

I did this typeset twice - fully. I got stuck for a long time for the first version, took a break - and when I started it again I HATED what I originally did. So…I scrapped it and started over. Sometimes you can get so lost in the sauce that starting over is the best idea. And, sometimes, simple layouts convey an idea much easier then a complex one.

This is a bind that I want to do again with better paper. Don't tell, but i fucked up the cover size for this one too. Learned that if something isn't working, leave it alone for a bit and it'll come to you.

This is one of my favorite LoZ fics - it's one of the fics I've read a few times since i found it. The world building is beautiful, and I LOVE the idea of closing this endless loop.

#zeros fic binding #ficbinding #legand of zelda #bookbinding #typesetting #home made #link/zelda #link/zelda/ganon

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who-do-i-know-this-man · 7 months ago

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OK I know submissions are closed for the season 4 blog but I just remembered an obscure game that I can not remember what the name of and I can think of no better fanbase to help me remember. Also fair warning I would bet this will be harder than the last one.

Ok so it was a mobile game that I'm pretty sure was removed from the app store like a decade ago. In it you played as a little purple dragon guy who ran a tavern. Here's a quick sketch of what I remember him looking like:

The gameplay loop was that you would make a food (by just choosing a food from a menu and it would cook passively. you could make 2 at a time) and you would recruit adventures by like spending food points and they would stay in your upstairs area and you would use them to fight monsters.

The gameplay was very VERY simple. All the food was just a number of food points and a tine to cook, so the hydra stew (the highest cooking time at 24 hours) or something was the only one ever worth cooking because it had the highest food point to time ratio. I think the adventures were similar where some where just better than others so assembling a team was as simple as picking the 3 adventures you had with the highest number.

Oh and I have no idea why I remember this, but I am almost CERTAIN that the game was made by Tapps, the people who make those [animal] evolution mobile games (I think they also used to make deer hunting games but that's beside the point). Unfortunately I could not find a list of every game they have made but maybe y'all will have better luck.

I loved playing this game when I was like 6-8 and I gamed on my mom's phone, but then she got a new phone and I couldn't find it on the app store. I've missed it ever since. So if y'all can find proof it existed I will be forever greatful.

#not blorbo poll

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clairifys · 1 year ago

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Prolonged love - Joseph Liebgott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometimes the best things in life take a long time, and sometimes life throws you for a loop. It sure threw (Y/n) for a loop when grabbing German POWs in Hagenau turns into her having to babysit a young Dutch girl.

Tw: Swearing, death, reader being trilingual, mentions of war, mentions of concentration camps, mentions of abuse, killing, slightly dirty? not full on smut, reader is female, slight misogyny due to the time period, she/her pronouns

Word count: 6.5k

I do not own Band of Brothers, nor do I own any of the characters. I am not intending to be disrespectful towards any of the people on this show

The Dutch name is pronounced like (Tina-ka) Tineke, and the nickname Tine is pronounced as (Teeny)

I was born in Chicago. My mother was born in Groningen, Netherlands, and my father in Antwerp, Belgium. I was the oldest child, and after me, my parents had five others. Despite having six kids, we were all taught Dutch and German from a young age. The sole reason I was accepted into the military was because of me being trilingual, I’ll forever be grateful to my parents for teaching me their languages.

February 9, 1945

Easy Company was on its way to France. We were stationed in Haguenau, which had been taken by the Allies in December. Honestly speaking, I didn’t really know what to expect when we got there. I was sitting in the back of a truck, squished between Babe and Liebgott. Joe had become a close friend way back in Toccoa when he’d fallen running up Currahee, and I stopped and helped him up. We both had our 48-hour weekend passes revoked, but we made the most of it that weekend together. After that, we’d spend our weekend passes together and hang out.

I was leaning against Joe as I’d been almost the whole ride, his arm slung around my shoulders as I read a book that I had found when we invaded Foy. It seemed the Krauts enjoyed good literature as I was reading For Whom the Bell Tolls in German. I was a translator for Easy Company, being able to speak English, German and Dutch, I was a heavy asset to the team. It was a beautifully told story about the Civil War that had some romance aspects while also being brutal. I finished the book twice, and now I was reading it a third time.

“Jesus doll, I think I’ve seen you read that damn book about forty times now. How good can it be?” Joe said when he noticed my attention had strayed.

“Oh it’s a beautifully told story, Joe. Although, I don’t think you could read anything that didn’t have pictures.” I replied jokingly to him, looking up at him from where I was leaning against him. I could hear Babe and Malarkey laughing, and a young soldier, Jackson watching intently.

“How can you read that, (L/n)?” A quiet voice asked in front of me. It’d been from Jackson. He lied on his documents so that made him 20 right now while I, at 23, was considered young.

“I can speak and read German. Although my mother is a Dutch immigrant, my father was a Belgium immigrant.” I spoke honestly. Picking up languages was a bit of a gift for me. I’d always been good at remembering and learning languages, probably since I was taught three languages at once from a young age.

“(Y/n)! I’ve read that book! It’s so beautifully written.” A new voice spoke from the opening in the back of the truck, I quickly jolted from Joe’s shoulder, as he groaned from lack of contact, to see who the familiar voice belonged to.

“David Webster? Where the hell have you been?” I interrogated, while simultaneously giving him a toothy smile. He blushed slightly while asking Jackson for a hand to get up on the truck and suddenly Joe spoke up sharply,

“The hospital. Must’ve liked that hospital Webster, cause uh, we left Holland four months ago.” After saying that he gave Web a dismissive look while tightening his hold on my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt very awkward, and slightly bad for Web - the war was tough and it was understandable to be afraid, it just wasn’t fair that some men snuck out only to get killed or injured more severely than the first time. They started going back and forth, jabbing at Webster passively, although it didn’t seem to be because they didn’t like him, they were just tired and upset. I gave Web a smile before getting off the truck, following Joe close behind.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to be so mean to Web.” I said calmly, making sure to not seem mad at Joe as to not have him get defensive.

“I guess, but it’s bullshit that we had men come back just to get killed.” He said quickly. When he said that, I saw Lieutenant Lipton sluggishly walking towards a building. The poor man had a bad case of Pneumonia, so I ran over and put his arm under my shoulders to help him. As I did that, explosions rang over our head and fell a little farther than we were. He gave me a smile and I helped him into the building he was walking towards. It was pretty on the inside, Luz and Captain Speirs were in the room along with Webster walking in.

“Hey look who it is. Nice digs, huh, Lip? (Y/n)?” Luz said to me and Lipton as I helped Lipton situate himself on the couch.

“Yeah.” Lipton called back, unenthusiastically and coughed slightly after.

George came over with a blanket and put it on Lipton. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, so I took it out and took a long drag from it.

“Hey what gives (Y/n). Just ‘cause you’re a pretty dame with a nice rack doesn’t mean you can steal my cigs.” He said while laughing, only partly joking. I gave him a look and replied,

“You’re just mad, this is all you get to see of my ‘nice’ rack.”

He laughed and replied with a ‘you bet’. As he said that, a new voice spoke up, mock confident.

“Ahem. Is this the company CP for Easy?” He asked, looking at me and Luz weirdly before I went to get Lip a cup of hot coffee.

From the kitchen, I could vaguely hear that he called himself Lieutenant Jones and that he was asking for Captain Speirs. I came out with a coffee for Lipton as Speirs was drilling him about going to the back to sack out and rest. I noticed Jones had stood up when Speirs walked in.

“Christ Captain, give him a break. He’s got Pneumonia!” I told Speirs as I handed Lipton his coffee and gave him a squeeze on his shoulder. Lipton thanked me with a small smile as the new guy looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

“Hello to you Ms. (L/n). If he doesn’t rest up though, that Pneumonia won’t go away.” He said pointedly at Lipton.

“I’m sorry, are you a field nurse? I didn’t think they let field nurses come this close to action.” Jones asked me, even though he wasn’t asking with any malicious intent, and it was all curiosity, I still got upset.

“Why d’ya think I’m a field nurse? I’m literally in uniform.” I deadpanned at him while giving him a little attitude for automatically assuming I’d be a field nurse just because I was a woman.

“Oh. I’m sorry, truly I was just curious. I didn't mean any offense, I just didn’t know they let women become paratroopers.” He said quickly, face turning slightly red.

“They don’t. (Y/n) here has some insane stamina, and she’s a helluva shot!” Webster spoke up for me, and I threw him a smile.

“Oh gee, Shifty’s got a better shot than I’d ever dream of having.” I replied, giving credit to Shifty, as he did have a better shot and he was just the sweetest man alive. At that, Winters walked in and told us he’d need fifteen of us on a patrol tonight to capture prisoners. When he said he’d need a translator, I instantly knew it’d be me or Joe as we were the only two in Second Platoon who could speak German. Webster could as well, but we didn’t know which Platoon he’d be in.

After Nixon and Winters left, Speirs began talking to Lipton about who should lead, and who he could take for the patrol. During this, Jones asked to be on the patrol, which Speirs answered quickly and easily with a no, that he hadn’t any experience.

“Lipton, how many prisoners do you think there’ll be?” Speirs asked the man in question.

“Honestly, sir, I’m not quite sure, anywhere between three to forty it seems.” He said in reply.

“(L/n).” Speirs called for me as I was sitting in a chair reading.

“Ya want me to be a translator, that it?” I asked, knowing that’s what he was about to ask me.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright.”

When Webster and Lieutenant Jones left for OP two, I decided to get going as well. I knew Liebgott would be there so that was a good enough reason for me.

“Web, I’m comin’ with. Joe’s probably there right now.” I said to David, although slightly talking to Jones as well, to let him know I’d be going to.

“Yeah, no problem. Say when you’re finished with that book, d’ya mind if I reread it?” He asked me as all three of us walked down the street.

“Awh hell Web, I’ve read this thing three times now, you can go ahead and read it now.” I said while throwing him the book, silently noting how quiet Lieutenant Jones was behind us. The two men were running around crouching behind a little garden wall as I stood up, not seeing why they were doing that. When I heard the door open, Sergeant Kiehn came out, greeting me and Web and telling us where OP two was at. Before anymore words could get exchanged, bombs and mortars started raining down on us and we started running and ducking to take cover. We sat against the wall of a building before a man shouted out that it was all clear. After that, we quickly got to the building where OP two was located. Once inside, I immediately went upstairs and sat down on Joe’s bunk and plopped my stuff down.

“Hey doll, where’d you run off to?” Joe asked while wrapping his arms around me as a way to annoy me.

“Went to help Lip, where’d you go?” I asked while laughing at him.

“Came here.” He replied while digging his face into my stomach and faking sleep. Web and Lieutenant Jones came up not too long after I had, and when Jones saw me and Liebgott he immediately stiffened and gave me and Joe a weird look.

“This spot taken?” Webster asked.

“Nah it’s all yours.” Joe said to him while turning his face away from my stomach, my hands went down to card through his hair and he took notice of Jones’ look.

“Fuck are you staring at?” Joe asked him while sitting up and giving him his own glare.

“I’m sorry?” The Lieutenant asked, offended.

“You got a starin’ problem? Why you lookin’ at me and (Y/n) like that?” He challenged him.

“Alright, alright. Quit fighting, we’ve got news.” Webster said, breaking up the fight.

“Dummer, zimperlicher Junge, der dich so ansieht. (Stupid, prissy boy, lookin at you like that)” Joe mumbled to me in German, only loud enough for only me to hear.

“Er ist einfach sauer, weil du mich berührst und nicht er. (He's just mad because you're touching me and not him)” I said back laughing.

Me and Joe got up to go talk to a bunch of men in the corner laughing and smoking, while Webster and Jones went to talk to Malark. When Joe heard them talk about the patrol he pulled Web aside and I went and sat next to Babe to listen to what he was going to say.

“What do you know about this patrol thing?” Joe asked Web quietly.

“Uh, nothing.” Web said while nodding his head.

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez interrogated.

“I don’t” He replied adamantly

` “Bullshit.”

Web and everyone went back and forth and soon more people sat down to listen. I knew Web wouldn’t give anything up, so I decided to. My head was starting to hurt and I wanted to lay down before the patrol knowing I’d be on it at 0100.

“Speirs is picking fifteen men, Jonesy boy wants to be one of ‘em.” I said while yawning. Joe looked down at me and said,

“I say let the kid go, he could use the experience.” He smiled then Ramirez perked up,

“And I bet they could find fourteen other replacements to help him out.” while smirking.

“Nope.” I said, popping the p. “Babe, McClung, Ramirez and I are going out there.” I said dismissively.

“(Y/n)!” Web hissed at me.

“What?” I asked, confused. Then proceeded with,

“Pssh, I’ll just say it was you who said it, Joe and Babe’ll back me up, won’t you boys.” I asked, smiling up at Joe then at Babe.

“Course we will, doll.” Joe replied and Babe grunted. Webster deadpanned me and sat down when Malarkey started telling us about the patrol.

When the phone rang, and the PX supplies came in, I was ecstatic. New shoes and a shower? Felt like late Christmas. On our way out, the Krauts started to bomb us. We ran down the stairs and I threw myself under a table with Joe. When we had made it outside, we heard there was a casualty, Bill Kiehn. He was a Toccoa man. It was upsetting and it was unfair that he’d gotten through Bastogne only to die like this. I hadn’t known him too well, but the fact that I’d been talking to him 30 minutes prior made me feel like throwing up. Instead of staying to watch, me and the rest of the second platoon went over to the showers to pick up our new ODs.

Arriving at the showers, we went to go pick up our new ODs, and anything else they’d dropped for us. Nixon was standing by the depot and was holding a box with my name on it. Being the only woman paratrooper here meant I’d need a different size uniform and boots. I thanked Nixon and grabbed the box, opening it. Inside there was a uniform my size, boots, and women’s sanitary needs, a new bra set, and a few new pairs of panties.

“Well ain’t you a lucky gal, getting new undergarments while we’re stuck with the same briefs.” A voice came from behind me. Getting ready to yell at whoever was looking over my shoulder, I turned and realized it was Joe.

“Aww, poor baby has to wear the same briefs.” I replied, feigning upset and then laughing when I saw his disgruntled expression.

Before I could run off to take a much needed shower, Malarkey called for us to let us know who’d be going on the patrol.

Heffron, McClung, Ramirez, me, Liebgott, Grant, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty and Webster. When we heard how many second platoon men were going, you could practically feel the rage flowing from us.

We’d all been pissed, wanting to complain but knowing it’d do us no good. Malarkey went off towards the showers and told us to as well. There were men standing at the entrance, undressing and some coming out wet. I didn’t want to undress, even if it was only down to my bra and panties. I’d been behind Joe when I took my first few layers of my tops off. Down to my black bra and army-issued pants was when Webster came up to talk to Joe, effectively, scaring the shit out of me.

“Jesus, Web, you came outta nowhere.” I said, holding my hand to my chest to calm down.

“Oops, sorry (Y/n).” He said while rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I’d noticed his face had turned a bright shade of red, but I thought it was because he was embarrassed that he’d scared me. A hand shot out to grab my arm and turn me around when I noticed it was Joe.

“What’s the matter?” I asked curiously.

“Do you not see everyone lookin’ at you like they’re starving men looking at their last meal?” He asked bewildered. Suddenly, I became hyper aware of most of the men's eyes on me, waiting for me to finish undressing. Before I could respond Joe spoke up again.

“Nevermind that, just finish and we can go in together.” Quickly I went to undo my belt, and I realized Joe was already down to his briefs, waiting on me. I felt bad to make him wait, but he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. I took this time to really look at Joe. Sure he was cute, and I’d definitely thought about him like this before, but would he really want me? I tried not to let my hopes get up, and as I slipped my pants down my legs, I forced myself to look away from his bare chest.

Having a hot shower was probably the best thing I’d had in a long time. Quickly scrubbing my body and hair down and then rinsing off, I stepped outside in a towel and grabbed my new uniform, and new undergarments.

Joe had finished showering, so I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a random building to change, and do my hair. When we got in, there was nobody there, probably all in the showers, so I took Joe to the first mirror I found in a bedroom and made him sit down. He had no obligations and I told him I’d be back after changing. Once I finished, I brought out my old undergarments and towel and hung them out to dry.

There was a vanity on the opposite side of a bed, with a little cushion seat, and some old, dusty hair products. I quickly got to work using them and braiding up my hair.

“Why’d you pull me away doll? Want me that bad huh?” He questioned while smirking at me and drawing a cigarette from his front pocket.

“Yeah, you wish. I wanted someone to talk to.” I joked back before replying honestly and looking at him through the mirror. I finished doing my last braid as Joe was telling me about one of his comics he found that he enjoyed. Standing up, I walked over to stand in front of him, looking down on him as he was sitting on the bed. He stopped talking and we made eye contact. He looked as handsome as ever sitting in his new ODs, with a fresh shower.

“Well don’t you look handsome in your new uniform with your hair combed.” I said to him in a sweet voice running my hands through his wet hair. His eyes darkened as his hands went to hold onto my hips.

“Jesus, (Y/n). We’ve been through hell and back and you’re still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.” He said confidently. I could feel my face getting hot, he’d said things like this before, but this time, it felt different. Stronger almost.

“Oh, Joe. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” I whispered to him, and he looked up at my lips, silently asking me. I slowly closed my eyes and let my hands fall from his hair down to his face, I slowly leaned down as he looked up and closed my eyes. As our lips were less than a centimeter apart, someone awkwardly coughed.

We sprung away from each other, embarrassed that we got caught. Looking at who it was, some random replacement apologized and said he left something in here and it was his room.

When he left, I started laughing and grabbed Joe by the arm to pull him up.

“Come on, I bet everyone is wondering where we went.”

“Goddammit Johnny, you’re breaking my heart.” Luz said.

“Come on, George, just give me, I don’t know, ten, fifteen bars?” Martin pressured him

“Juicy fruit, happy?”

Johnny and Cobb had been pestering George to give them Hershey bars. I knew there wasn’t enough, and that it wasn’t fair so I just stayed quiet the whole time. Cobb began badgering George again and when George went to defend himself, a whole group of men walked in.

“Whoa, Hershey bars!” Joe exclaimed, coming up behind me to rest his hands on my shoulders from where I was sitting in front of the table of candy and treats.

“Jesus Christ.” Poor George just couldn’t catch a break.

“Wait your turn, Liebgott.” Cobb said, pissing me off. I never really liked Cobb and he didn’t like me.

“Yeah, who they for?” Liebgott asked George.

“Not you, Lieb.”

“Oh come on George, one bar!” Joe pestered, wanting to get that bar.

“Y’know who they’re for? People who don’t interrogate me. Here, (Y/n), have a bar!” George replied while looking Joe in the eye.

“Oh George! Thank you!” I exclaimed excitedly. I hadn’t known the last time I’d gotten chocolate.

“Christ, you’re only giving it to her because she’s a woman and you wanna get on her good side in case the opportunity arises to fuck her!” Cobb said angrily as I turned around, glaring, ready to hit him.

“That sounds more like something you’d do, knowing you couldn’t get a woman to sleep with you willingly if your life depended on it!” I yelled back at him which caused him to call me a slur of colorful words. After that, Joe yelled at him and I ignored him.

“Hey big mouth! Give Lieb a Hershey bar, huh?” Perconte asked.

When I heard his voice, I jumped up, running up to him to give him a hug.

“Perco! Your back!” I exclaimed as he hugged me back.

“You gotta be shittin’ me! Look who it is!” George laughed and said.

“How ya feeling?” Joe then asked him, smiling.

“As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I’ll be fine.” Perconte replied, laughing.

“Have a Hershey’s!” Luz threw one at Perconte.

“Hey he gets a fuckin Hershey bar?” Joe asked, offended as I came to sit down next to him, opening up my Hershey’s.

“Ask ya girlfriend to french ya when she’s done eating it.” George joked as I took a bite into my bar and broke it in half.

“I’ll do you one better, Joe.” I said after I swallowed and handed him the half I didn’t bite into. He took it with thanks.

“That’s not one better, he’d rather you kiss him (L/n)!” Luz said while laughing right after. Joe pushed him backwards while also laughing

At 1700, there was a briefing about the house we’d be going into. I was next to Shifty, talking with him. Every now and again me and Joe would make eye contact, until the other looked away. Winters, and Martin walked in which caused Joe to look away first. Winters explained Johnny would be going in Malarkey's place, and that made everyone slightly more comfortable. I was on Johnny’s team, along with Webster. I walked out and Liebgott was waiting for me, he left with me and as we passed Speirs, he told Joe he didn’t have to go on the patrol.

We’d been all stationed in the basement for now before the patrol. Having to eat slop and we couldn’t have our helmets. I sat with Shifty as I ate.

“Youse gonna be out there with a gun?” Shifty asked me in a sweet voice, I knew what he was talking about. He was asking if I’d be helping shoot.

“Nah, well obviously I’ll have a gun, but I’m mainly a translator.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I don’ understand why they never let you shoot with me. You’re a helluva sniper.” Shifty told me, making me giggle at him.

“Oh Shift, you know how to make a woman feel good about herself.” I replied, happy that I got to talk to him before the patrol. He always knew how to make someone happy, even during nerve-wracking times.

At 0100, we were getting into those rubber boats, and setting sail on a short trip across the river. Before the fourth boat could even get far, it flipped and we were down three men. I wasn’t too nervous, knowing that I’d been through worse. When we got to the other side, Martin had someone cut the fence and me and Web, being translators, meant that we had to be up front in case we found any Germans.

So far, we’d gotten up to the steps of the house we’d need to get prisoners from. Johnny had shot into the window, and Jackson went up to throw his grenade, except, instead of waiting for it to finish detonating, Jackson didn’t stop and immediately went into the house, getting hit straight in the face with his grenade. As we ran in, me and Web were yelling at the men in German. We started to split the three men up when I heard a small cry in the corner of the room. I stopped to turn to go towards the sound.

“(L/n)! What are you doing?” Johnny yelled at me.

“Sir! There’s a child!” I shouted, confused. When I got down eye level with the little girl, I noticed she was only in a thin, white nightgown, with no shoes. She looked malnourished, hurt and mostly scared.

“Alsjeblieft! Alsjeblieft! (Please! Please!)” The little girl cried in Dutch, shrinking away from me when I went to get her.

“Het is goed schat! Rustig maar, ik ben hier om te helpen! (Its okay dear! Relax, I'm here to help!)” I replied to her in Dutch. What had a little Dutch girl been doing here? I didn’t have time to continue to calm the little girl before Johnny started yelling about getting on the boats and leaving.

“Klein meisje, ik ga je ophalen. (Little girl, I'm going to pick you up.)” I warned her before grabbing her bridal style and running with her out of the house and covering her eyes to make sure she didn’t see what was happening around her with Jackson. Pushing everyone into the boats, the girl I was holding onto kept crying and crying. The poor little girl couldn’t have been more than four years old.

“Het is goed schat. Het is goed schat. (It’s alright baby. It’s alright baby.)” I kept repeating to the small frightened girl. When Webster jumped into the boat behind me, we started going back to our side. He had his head ducked, as the Krauts kept shooting at the back boat. He had his arms around me when he realized I was shielding a child.

“(Y/n)! What the hell? Why do you have a child?” He yelled out over the gun fire.

“I don’t know! She was in the corner, she’s Dutch!” I replied, still confused as to how she got here and why she wasn’t in the Netherlands. We all ran downstairs, I was still holding onto the little girl, she had come from the Germans territory so I had to stay with her by the other prisoners. Nobody had come up to me about the girl yet so I took this as a time to try to get information so she wasn’t bombarded when adrenaline wore off.

“Wat is je naam? (What’s your name?)” I asked her calmly. She looked up at me with teary dark blue eyes. “Tineke.” She responded in a quiet voice. I was sitting on the floor and I held her so she was only facing me. I could feel someone watching me, but for now I didn’t care.

“Mooie naam! De mijne is (Y/n)! (Beautiful name! Mine is (Y/n)!)” I replied while smiling at her and gently carding my hand through her dark brown strands. Her skin was deathly pale and it was obvious she hadn’t drank or eaten anything in a long time. I gave her my canteen and she took it wearily. She wouldn’t drink it because she was scared of what could be in it. I took it back and took a small sip and gave it back. When she noticed I was okay, she started drinking out of it rapidly.

When she finished drinking, I asked her more questions.

“Spreek je Engels? (Can you speak English?)” I asked her. “Little bit.” She replied hesitantly.

“Very good, mijn liefje! (My love!)” She seemed to smile a little at the name I’d given her.

“Where is your mommy?” I asked slowly. She started to get upset at the mention of her mother but she replied anyway.

“She die. The Duits kill her. I am Joods. They take her and kill my mammie in de camps for Jodens. Then they keep me. (The Germans kill her. I am Jewish. My mommy. Camps for Jews.)” She told me in a somber tone. When she couldn’t think of the right word, she’d just say it in Dutch. I thought about bringing her to Joe later knowing he was Jewish, she might feel comfortable with him.

“You’re safe now, liefje.” I told her while bringing her close to my chest. She ended up falling asleep not even ten minutes later. It gave me time to think about what she had said. She never mentioned a last name which made me believe she didn’t know it. The camp she was talking about was also weird. What did she mean by a camp for Jewish people?

Jackson had died. That boy who’d just turned twenty, had died. He had his whole life ahead and he died in a stupid war. I hadn’t even known him too well, but he just died in front of me, in front of everyone. I was thankful Tineke was asleep as she’d already seen enough.

A day had passed since the patrol. The Germans were taken away and Tineke wouldn’t talk to anyone except me, and occasionally Joe. When Winters had found out about her, he had to ask her questions. I had come with because she couldn’t speak English very well and she refused to go anywhere if I wasn’t with her. The poor girl had been traumatized and it seemed like she’d been like that for a while.

While asking her questions, we found out her family was Jewish, and when the Germans found out, they took her and her family out of their homes to be sent to a camp. She didn’t know much, just that her mother and her got away and when they were found by the two Germans, her mother tried to fight against them resulting in her getting shot. Tineke was then taken as a hostage.

Doc Roe came in to see how she was and it turned out she had been malnourished, and if I hadn’t found her when I did she would’ve been dead. Later that day I took her to the building where the second platoon was located to introduce her.

I walked in and held onto Tine and went upstairs.

“Guys, this is Tineke. She was found in the house with the other POWs and she’s Dutch. She can speak some English, but don’t bombard her.” I spoke when I went upstairs and saw everyone. They all looked at us, and one by one I walked around with her and had her say hi to everyone. When I got to the last person, Joe, I sat down on the bunk with him and had her greet him.

“Tine, why don’t you tell Joe what you are.” I reminded her. I had told her to tell him she was Jewish before we went upstairs.

“Jewish.” Was all she said, nervous and not knowing too much English, she turned her face away into my chest. I rubbed my hand down her knotted, dirty hair realizing she needed a bath.

“Ain’t that cool! I’m Jewish too!” Joe responded in a sweet voice, smiling down at her when she slightly turned her head towards him. Before any more words could get exchanged, Webster came in to break the news that we were to go on another patrol that night and there would be another meeting at 1800. It was currently 1530 so I decided to bring Tineke down to the kitchen sink where I could give her a makeshift bath. I remembered how my mom would do that for me and my siblings when we were little and there were no baths in any of the houses.

I grabbed some soap and put it in her hair while I’d tell her stories to pass the time.

“A long time ago, there were two moons. It was said one of them, named houden got too close to the sun, and out came thousands of dragons.” I told her a story my mother used to tell me all the time.

“Houden? To hold?” She asked as I began rinsing out her hair.

“That’s right. That’s how dragons were born.” I told her. As I finished saying that, another voice piped up from behind me.

“I didn’t know dragons were born from the moon.” Joe came up behind me and waved at Tineke, who brought her hand up slightly.

“That’s because I never told you that.” I said while smiling up at him. He moved to have his arms around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder. I finished rinsing Tine off then I grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it. Nixon had got clothes small enough to fit her from one of his sources. It was a small, black dress with a dark brown fluffy shawl. She also had stockings and tiny boots. When I finished dressing her, I braided up her hair and put on a hat.

At 1800 we all went down to the basement to await Winter’s meeting he called.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Webster.” A drunk Cobb said. I put one of my hands on Web’s shoulder, holding Tineke to my chest as she slept on me, and he turned to give me a smile.

“That’s what I thought, college boy.” Cobb said while swaying lightly on his feet. I gave Cobb a glare and squeezed the hand I had on Web’s shoulder.

“Are you drunk, trooper?” Lieutenant Jones asked him, angrily.

“Leave me alone.” Cobb replied, looking away.

“Answer the question.” Jones said firmly.

“Yes, sir, I am drunk, sir.” Cobb said sassily before adding, “Drunk, and sick and tired of fucking patrols. Taking orders-”

“Hey Cobb, shut up. It’s boring, okay.” Martin cut him off before he could finish what he was saying.

“Taking his side, Johnny?” “Yeah, I am.”

After that shit show I went and sat by Joe, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t be in Cobb’s line of fire in case he decided to throw something.

Winters came in to not only tell us that we didn’t have to go on that patrol, but that we’d also be off the line tomorrow. After he left, everyone started talking, which woke up Tine, who had no idea what was going on, but was happy because everyone else was.

When I went upstairs, Winters was waiting for me.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He said, a bittersweet tone to his voice.

“Hello, sir. Anything I can help you with?” I asked, slightly nervous that he had waited for me.

“It turns out, we found one of Tineke’s family members. Her aunt and uncle. They’re set to come tonight.” He said quietly.

“Oh. Well that’s great!” I smiled slightly, feeling my heart get heavy at the fact that the young girl would be leaving.

“Tine, you hear that? Your aunt and uncle are coming to pick you up.” I told her, looking down at her. She perked up, looking between me and Winters and then she smiled. She smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile.

When her aunt and uncle arrived at 2100, Tineke ran up to them and they picked her up. They repeatedly thanked me and Winters and before they left, I gave Tineke a hug and kiss and turned around to walk away. As I did that, I noticed Joe was standing there waiting for me, smiling sweetly at me. We walked away, arm in arm to go back to the house together. The next day, we’d all been sent to the trucks to move to our new location. I was sitting next to Joe, my head on his shoulder as I slept.

We had made it to Germany. The Krauts surrendered and Hitler shot himself. We were finally able to stay in an actual house, with actual baths and actual beds. To us, life couldn’t get any better.

Me and Joe had been sharing a house with Perco and Luz. Frank and George went out to get eggs from a farmhouse a few blocks down so right now it was just me and Joe.

“You excited, doll?” He asked me from the table. I put down one of the wet dishes I was washing, and replied,

“For what Lieb?” “We got through the hard part!” Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that yet.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m just scared that I’ll have to go to the Pacific if this war finishes soon.” I replied genuinely.

“Oh don’t worry about that right now.” He said while standing up and coming behind me. I put down the last dish and pulled off the wet, yellow gloves I had on to wash the dishes in.

“Y’know, Perco and Luz just left.”

“I know Liebgott, I’ve got eyes.” I replied, smiling up at him while turning around to face him. He put his hands on the sink behind me and smiled down on me.

“Well if your eyes are any good, then you’ll be able to see how much of a hold ya got on me.” He spoke before closing the distance between us and closing the gap.

I immediately closed my eyes and kissed him back. We slowly pulled apart, and without another word he slammed his mouth into mine. This time, he was much more passionate. His hands wandered down to my waist, and mine went up to his neck and hair. I gasped as he bit my bottom lip, and he snuck his tongue into my mouth. I kissed him back with as much fervor as I could, slightly pulling on his hair without realizing. He moaned into my mouth and the vibrations caused heat to pool in my stomach.

His hands started to roam down my body, causing me to moan as well. He pulled me flush against him and then pulled me up the stairs into one of the rooms I was occupying. I gently sat down on the bed and his fingers went to my uniform top, unbuttoning my shirt.

Perconte and Luz were walking down the trail to the house they were sharing with (Y/n) and Joe, they had eggs to cook up for everyone. When they got inside, they expected to see (Y/n) and Joe downstairs, waiting for them like they had been before.

“Hey, where’d they go-”

“D’you hear that?” George cut Frank off when he heard what sounded like muffled banging from upstairs. The two men immediately smirked at each other, and Luz ran upstairs.

They stopped outside of the door getting ready to knock, when they heard moaning from the other side.

Before Frank could hold George back, he knocked on the door yelling,

“You two better hurry up before me and Perco eat all the eggs!” It was quiet for a moment before Joe shouted out towards the two men,

“Go ahead! I’m eating something way better!”

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! If I missed any TWs lmk and I'll add them!

#bob #band of brothers #ronald speirs #dick winters #ron speirs #eugene roe #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers x reader

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burgojo · 2 years ago

Text

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.9k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, bondage, toys, blindfold, edging, temp play, nipple play, handjobs/frotting, sir kink, size humiliation

you've gotten daring. it feels as if he's constantly in wait for a wolf to jump out of the bushes to attack him in the kitchen, the dining room... or even actual bushes. and it wasn't just the sex that had his skin burning under his clothes. it was the way you shifted your arm casually around his waist, over his shoulders, claiming him as yours – it was the way you looked at him differently, eyes dark and dangerously playful. it was the way a corner of your lips twitched up and pride glittered in your eyes whenever anyone mentioned how cute he was, tucked into your side like a doll.

it excited him, doing something so dirty in the shadows and having it leave its mark on him so visibly that others picked up on it.

when you greet him in the morning with a fruity breakfast-in-bed of your famous pancakes with a bundle of red bamboo-silk rope on the side, he picks up the rope first.

he twists the soft ends between his fingers, admiring the nylon-like sheen to the vibrant fibres. he turns the bundle over in his hands, admiring the contrast against his skin. "so pretty," he whispers, taking his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes sparkle up at you ardently. "do you know how to use these?"

"i've been doing some light reading," you tease, kissing his cheek and throwing open the curtains to let the morning light in. "got them on tuesday. been waiting for a time when i can really let them shine as a centrepiece."

"you should've gotten a blindfold, too," he laughs, giving the rope a harsh tug. it barely moves, holding steady. he blushes. if you decide you don't want him moving a single inch, these will certainly get the job done.

"would you like one?" you ask liltingly, moving towards the wardrobe. "you have all day to pick one." since the beginning of the week, he'd grown more comfortable with giving up control over the little things in his life – like now, allowing you to pick out a nice, casual outfit for him.

"mm... maybe i would." he sets aside the rope, his chest already brimming with anticipation, and picks up the fork. delicately, he pierces a dewy blueberry with a single silver tine and drags it against his teeth with a soft hum. the syrupy glazing gives the tartness a tingling rich weight.

his eyes widen at the outfit you've thrown on the end of the bed next to his feet. you close the wardrobe. "that's just your hoodie. where's the rest of it?"

you smirk, scooping up a familiar pair of fishnets folded into a neat square, a loop of leather clinking on top. you lift the pair of polished black heels in your other hand and they glint sharply in the light. "here's the rest of it."

flames engulf his face. "h-hyung! i can't wear that!"

"why not?"

"it's not – it's so suggestive," he whispers. you smile; there's your sweet boy. "aren't you worried people will stare at your boyfriend?"

"no. i know they would – that's why i chose them." you set them down, perching on the edge of the bed next to him and taking the fork gently from his hands. you carve a bite out of the fluffy pancake stack and lift it to his lips, humming when he wraps his lips around it with more of a pout than usual. "you love the attention, my darling. i'm just giving you what you want."

he shivers at the familiar sentence, which sends a twinge of arousal up his spine. he just woke up, too – maybe you'll help him with his little 'problem' if he asks nicely. "i think i should wear pants. what if the wind picks up the end of the hoodie? i'd get in trouble for public indecency – you'd have to fuck me in a jail cell."

"fine," you huff, pushing another mouthful of pancakes into his mouth as you stand. "jeans, then. your black calvin klein denim, maybe? let's go for an all-black look today. you can cuff the hems to show off your shoes."

with a laugh, he spears half of a strawberry and waves it towards you. you accept it, teeth dragging lightly against the silver. "you have to go change, then. wanna match with you, baby."

"i made you a cute breakfast and you're still ordering me about..." you sulk. "okay. but that's the last thing you can ask of me. i'm in charge, you little minx."

"yes, daddy," he drawls, rolling his eyes as he giggles. "big man pays for our dates and gives good kisses. what else to i have to want for?"

"oh, trust me. tonight, you'll be wanting."

—

it's hot. it's cold. your thumb tweaks his nipple and he flinches at the suddenness of it, swallowing his groan of pleasure.

"mmnh... oh, fuck, fuck you..." he jolts as the wet heat of your tongue circles his pebbled nipple, your teeth dragging against the soft, cold skin. it's fascinating, really – you can feel his heat, his red-blooded muscle, simmering beneath his skin, and yet what you take between your lips is arctic. the zing of cold tastes sweet with his bitten moans.

"what did you say, darling?" you drag the ice cube down along the defined edge of his apollo's belt, teasing it up and down the place where it smooths out – right at the junction of his thigh.

he whimpers – really whimpers – and bucks his hips feebly, arms flexing against the red bamboo-silk blend. you made sure to tie them nice and tight, framing the swells of his delts and biceps. he whips his head left and right, trying to find the source of your voice. it's coming from all around him, enveloping him, drowning his senses, bubbling in his tummy like a glass of mellow, nutty champagne.

the bullet vibrator, discreet and black, has been buzzing away inside of him for what feels like hours. it's shorter than your fingers, thinner than your cock, and barely brushes that sweet sport two inches inside of him. he grinds his ass against the bed, fighting desperately to rub it against his prostate for some proper pleasure. the used fleshlight knocks his hip and he shivers as your fingers brush his side while you pick it up and set it aside.

"nothing, sir," he says between clenched teeth, his chest arching into your mouth as your tongue flicks and rolls against his sensitive chest. his stomach tenses and you drag the flat of your tongue down the split of his chest and trace the dips of his toned muscles, lips firm and warm and wet and—

he cries out as the searing ice presses against the underside of his throbbing cock. you wrap your hand entirely around him – his heart flutters – and the heat of your hand and his shaft have the ice dripping down your first knuckles, sandwiched unflinchingly as you lazily shuffle your palm up and down, up and down.

he whines tearfully and his hips jerk away, writhing as he tries to pull away from the numbing cold and shattering heat. it's so slick. "n-nothing! i said nothing!"

the icy water drips down his balls and constant sticky precum bubbles from his tip, pooling on his tensing stomach. his hands flex behind his head and he tilts his mouth against your neck when he feels you bury your face in his shoulder, humming softly as you jerk him off so terribly sweetly. the pulsing rage of heat, the steady glacial chill that hums at the base of his cock...

"'m sorry," he cries out against your skin, pressing his lips to your jaw quick and messy. he's frantic. you smile. "i – mmh! – didn't mean it, please, just wanna come, please... s'hard, so hard, i wanna see you... wanna touch you, wanna feel you against me, in me, i don't care anymore!"

he sounds almost broken. granted, you've never toyed with him like this before – you're not usually one to play with your food too much before you eat. but this week, his words, his cute little smiles when he teases his hand across your crotch... maybe you're less of a square than you thought.

"you didn't mean it?" you tilt your head, middle and index fingers brushing against the rim of his asshole, nudging the vibrator. he spreads his legs wider, thighs hooked over yours, and you smirk. "it just... came out, right? ah, i understand... but that doesn't mean that you're forgiven. you'll have to earn that."

he keens, nodding so hard his head's in danger of falling off. he humps your fist, his cheeks dark pink. "yes – yes, sir. i'll do better for you, hyung."

"hm." you sit back on your knees, stroking his body. he shivers under your touch, flinching and gasping softly at each cold twinge. his fawn nipples are swollen and dark. "you will."

"i will," he parrots softly, a tiny breath of dazed acquiescence. his head tips back – your hand, god, he'd been trying to ignore it, focus on your voice, but even that got him all worked up. he can barely remember what the bedroom looks like. all he remembers is you.

"that's right, darling," you croon, tugging faster on his cock as he judders and moans, grinding into your fist and against your bulge at the same time. you glance down at his cock and can't help the soft huff of laughter that escapes you at the sight.

he clenches around nothing at the sound. "w-what?"

"mm, nothing," you jest, "just admiring how pretty your little cock looks in my hand."

his gut zings with deep, hot pleasure. he can't steady the wobble in his voice. "i-it's not little...!"

"really? can't you feel it, baby?" you wrap your fingers tight around his length one at a time so you can truly appreciate the look of it, snug in the tunnel of your palm. "my hand wraps around it entirely. you can't even see it anymore. i've never realised how dainty you truly are. doubt you could please anyone with this."

you tug sharply and his moan snaps in the middle. his pulsing, leaking red cock dribbles onto his stomach and runs down his sides with all of his writhing. you squeeze slowly on every upwards stroke, as if milking him, and a thick spurt of precum drools over your knuckles.

"'m not dainty," he nearly sobs, yanking on the red ropes caging his arms and chest. they hold strong; he's powerless against you, his heels digging into your lower back in a feeble attempt at getting you to grind on him. "nngh – 'm not..."

"no, you say?" your fingers circle his asshole and you admire the way he grips that little toy like a vice. he whimpers, grinding down on your fingers in a desperate bid to get them inside of him and to fuck him good. "then what are you, my darling?"

he jerks into the mattress as he feels a hot, heavy weight slide along the prominent vein of his cock, slipping in beside his in your loosened fist. you rock your hips and heat engulfs his cock as he trembles, feeling your balls pressed against his in the filthiest kind of intimacy.

"take a look, baby. i want you to see it for yourself."

your fingers hook under his blindfold and toss it somewhere into the darkness to be picked up in the morning. he blinks, disoriented, up at you, his pupils swallowing his irises and his expression loose and wanton.

you take his chin, angling it down, and his eyes travel down his flushed, messy body to the big prize... and was it big.

"don't come." your hand tightens around your cocks. you drag your hips back, then push forward, watching his expressions closely as his mouth falls open and his eyes flutter shut. "good boy. now, watch."

you grab his jaw and tilt his gaze to yours, eyes hungry and ruthless. your hips pump faster. your cock dwarfs jungkook's as it slides over it, the thick head catching on his, and he shuts his eyes tightly, unable to swallow the rapid, ceaseless, embarrassed moans you're yanking out of his guts by the handful. you increase the speed of the vibrator from minimum to maximum and he wails.

"open your eyes, sweet thing. i told you to watch."

he babbles half-words and pleas for things he doesn't know. your hips quicken, the hot drag of flesh on flesh almost deviant. a thick spurt of his precum smears your cock and you groan softly, pumping you together as you thrust against him.

the quick wet smack of your balls against his brings him close to tears. each jostle and rub tugs the string out of his thoughts, unravelling them like a stray thread. the white-hot coil tightens.

nervously, between hiccups and cries, he cracks his eyes open, hands flexing into fists behind his head. the warm pad of your thumb rubs his wet, icy nipple, flicking and pinching erratically. he keens your name, arching his back into the radiating heat of your palm against his ribs.

he feels so small. your hand wrapped over his upper ribs, cupping the softness of his chest. your body, looming above his. your cock, rutting against his like a beast...

he can't help it. his eyes roll back into his skull and he comes.

everything tightens. it's as if his whole body is a spring loaded with a single high-calibre bullet, and in that flash of sun-surface heat, everything slows down. everything is more: your touch, your body, your love. tingling white pleasure bursts in his core, bleeding out to his fingers and toes like blazing petrol trails.

his head spins. his lungs ache.

what's his name, again?

you release on his stomach and cock, making more of a mess of him. his own glazed cum drips down his sides and pools on the soft hotel towels he stole from somewhere he definitely shouldn't have been. you shift your grip, fisting his cock rapidly as he sobs, his chest heaving and tears glittering along his lash line.

you milk him dry until he's a twitching, gasping puddle of cum on the bed, thick trembling thighs pinning you in place. his unfocussed gaze trails over the ceiling. he whines softly through tears as your fingers glide against his sensitive asshole, popping the still vibrator out of him. he clenches around nothing and rolls his ass against your cock – it's sloppy, needy, and tired.

it's always been hard to say no to him, especially when he gazes up at you with a slick swollen pout and those huge, glistening eyes, but you have to. the rope's made pink indents into his skin where he's pulled and pushed against him, and you're glad that you splurged a little on the rope. he wouldn't be able to wear short sleeves for a week if you got him something coarser.

you hush him gently as your fingers work deftly at the knots. when his hands are free, thumping softly to the bed, they're immediately up again, snaking around your shoulders and yanking you down to his chest.

he buries his face in your neck, breathing in your scent shakily. his fingertips glide absently up and down the middle of your spine; you can feel the tremors wracking his body, muscles tensing and relaxing as often as he breathed.

you kiss him softly. he moans into it, lips moving hungrily against yours, and he arches himself off of the bed in an effort to get closer to you. you hold him up with an arm over his shoulders, your other arm braced against the bed.

when you part, gasping for air, he moans softly, chasing your lips. you indulge him one last time, and when you pull away, you move to his throat, sucking a dark hickey into his skin high above where any t-shirt collars might fall. he doesn't bruise easily; you have to put special care into it.

his ankle slips down around the back of your knee as your teeth sting. you kiss the reddening bruise – one day you're going to make it a heart just to embarrass him – and his throat bobs. you give his adam's apple a chaste kiss – he giggles, dazed and airy, and presses his cheek to yours as he comes down from his high, still panting softly.

he opens his mouth and coaches himself on how to talk again. he feels loopy. "don' want this week to end, hyung..."

"i know." you stroke his side. "just ask me to play mario kart with you again. you've incensed me to try harder."

he coos, giggling softly through deep, shaky breaths. "ah, but it won't matter. i'll beat you anyway – it's genetic. i'm a natural winner."

"winner?" you lift a brow. "just now, you did the one thing i specifically told you not to do, gold star. i don't think that's 'winning'."

"anytime i get to see you naked is a win for me, hyung," he teases, pecking your lips. he tucks his hands behind his head, mimicking the shape you made with the ropes, and spreads his legs. "let's see if you can beat the 'high score' you won tonight."

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

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tenderwatches · 5 months ago

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Ch. 11 of Lies We Tell Ourselves is up!

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter teaser

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter excerpt

Chapter 11: Solutions, Dissolutions

“You were removed from the council?” “I left almost two years ago.”

Viktor curls a lock of hair around a finger, his other hand resting at his mouth, where he worries at a corner of a nail between his teeth. His eyes are on the latest equations they’re working through for the synthetic hex crystal stabilisation frame, but his mind is back on that café patio he and Jayce visited a fortnight ago on the ostentatious streets of the Financial District.

Two years—and the fact that Jayce named the time frame—he wants Viktor to put together the sequence of events, wants him to know that he walked away from his council seat during the same time Viktor had returned to the Undercity. The implication sits heavy in Viktor’s chest, alongside all the other revelations that have been accumulating since his return: Jayce maintaining his partnership on the patents, his futile efforts to afford Viktor an income, and now this.

What on Runeterra is he trying to tell me? Viktor grimaces, labouring over a line where he doesn’t feel the arithmetic is quite right—no, wait… It’s fine. He scratches out his work a little harder than he means to, almost bending back the tines of his pen. Swearing softly under his breath, he works it in gentle, sweeping loops to ensure the ink still flows before scribbling out a note that marks this part as ‘ok after all’ before capping the instrument and setting it down to bury his face in his hands.

In the early days of his return to Piltover, time had stretched endlessly. Each minute was an exercise in restraint, each interaction laden with the heft of their turbulent history. The work he had been summoned to do was a new problem to sink into, a complex tangle to nest within. It had easily consumed all of his time, if not his attention. But ever since he’d yielded to Jayce’s damn tea—the first crack in his defences—the days have begun to blur together, fleeing like, it seems, his sanity. Viktor finds himself struggling to account where hours, days, weeks have gone, lost in the easy rhythm they’ve begun to recover. This makes uneasy alarm bells sound in every cell of his body.

He lets out a long sigh, rubbing his eyes. His brain feels heavy. Not quite a headache, but certainly not comfortable. He’s picking at things, almost hoping for mistakes, as if finding an error might justify the walls he’s built, prove this budding comfort to be as dangerous as he fears. Instead, he finds himself making the mistakes, his uncertainty bleeding onto the pages. Maybe he needs a break.

“Something wrong?”

(Read the rest on AO3!) (Or start from the beginning!)

#jayvik #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jayce arcane #lies au #arcane fanfic #jayvik fanfic #slow burn #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies #jayvik fic #arcane fic #arcane #arcane AU #jayvik AU #my fic #ao3 #first fic #fic update

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jon-snows-man-bun · 7 months ago

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By Turns

Chapter Thirteen

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Eris slanders everybody, including (but not limited to) Rhysand, Cassian, Tarquin, Morrigan, Nesta, and Elain. Misogyny, racism, implied off-screen cannibalism, victim blaming, discussions of domestic abuse (Autumn Court, you know the drill), fucked up family dynamics - Mama Vanserra isn't all sweetness and light. Eris is pretty hard on her here.

This chapter's political machination-heavy to get to where we need to go.

The letter was sitting on his desk innocuously. Thick, pale parchment with a wax seal, stacked on top of a pile of other letters in hands he recognised.

He placed the wax seal immediately – an eye balanced between the tines of a tipped crescent moon, stamped in deep navy wax. Aisling’s family crest. The whole letter was enchanted, glamoured and sealed and warded against prying so heavily it hadn’t collected even a smudge of dirt from its journey to him in Autumn. Turning it over in his hands, Eris decided he could bear it no longer.

He pried off the seal with the edge of his dagger, the letter immediately unfolding neatly, but it wasn’t Aisling’s elegant, looping hand – rather a hasty scrawl penned by her handmaiden, who apologised for contacting him.

I would not write to you unless I felt this were an urgent matter. I understand you had some business with the lady and wished to inform you as quickly as possible. I fear I have upsetting news, so will address it quickly: she has not returned home within a fortnight. There was a collapse within the mine while she was there, and she has not been seen since. The lords of the City are attempting to disperse her estate. I will write to you again if her body is found, but I fear it is unlikely.

Eris knew she wasn’t dead. He knew that in his heart where it beat in time with hers, but he still reached instinctively for that golden thread. He was reassured despite himself when he found it whole, the magic of whatever united them snug against his ribs where it had woven in with his own. Aisling was alive, somewhere on the end of it; if not happy, then at least whole. The pain from a dead mate was said to be more than could be borne. He had always thought it was romantic fantasy, just tripe and folk tales, but if she died –

The letter burst into flames in his hands. She was not dead, and the bond was intact. She was as much an extension of him now as a limb. Eris had decided, somewhere along the way, that she was his; death couldn’t have her.

And neither could Rhysand. It was the only place she could be – she couldn’t leave the Hewn City without its Lord’s permission, and if she wasn’t dead then she been removed.

It was the highhanded, manipulative sort of move Rhysand would make, a lazy bid for control. Either that or a test to see if Eris would come running – to see which of his limbs would move when Rhysand pulled this string.

Eris loathed being manipulated. His strength had always been his unpredictability and his foresight; anticipating what others wanted and their motivations, keeping his own obscured. He could hazard a guess at what Rhysand would try to extract from him for Aisling: a shoring up of their tenuous alliance by ensuring his obedience, an end to the bargain Rhysand had struck to protect Feyre that left him so vulnerable.

He had other levers Eris could pull.

Eris sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The sun was shining, dappled by the branches of the ancient oaks outside. Ticru had located the strongest patch of sunlight and was currently stretched out in it, long legs akimbo and pale belly to the sky as he slept.

Would Aisling like the Forest House? It wasn’t the Hewn City, but would she be happy here? He refused to consider the possibility that she liked Velaris, grimacing at the thought of her living so far from him and in the rather careless hands of the Night Court. He didn’t trust Rhysand and Feyre not to hurt her, even inadvertently. These were the fae who had released three death gods and then lost one.

Eris couldn’t help but compare the shape of the dance in Autumn with Night, the better to assess how Aisling would fit. How she would keep up, how she would fare. Autumn was much more restrained than Night, in many ways. Just as bloody, but in the correct spaces – wives struck behind closed doors, sons caned in the classroom, lesser fae whipped in private basements and courtyards. In public, all buttons were fastened. Night was extravagant and ostentatious in all things: its beauty, its ugliness, its cruelty. They flaunted all their flesh and diamonds and viciousness out in the open.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the servant’s knock, reminded that he was currently late for lunch with his mother. He’d spent too long stewing over this, furious and fearful in equal measures.

Eris would have rather been at his private estate to the west, the seat of the territory he governed, but he had been absent from the Forest House for too long. Beron liked everyone where he could see them and keep them under his watchful eye – as if they couldn’t scheme behind his back and hadn’t been doing so since they were boys.

Lunch with his mother – a strained affair for them both, but she kept insisting on it, at least monthly. Perhaps for appearances, perhaps to reassure herself that he hadn’t fallen before his final hurdle. The Mother help her in that case, she’d need to rely on Damien or Cato to free her from the shackles of her misery here, and she’d spent far too much time shaping Eris into what she needed to change horse mid race.

She never enjoyed these lunches, or the company of any of his brothers. Their mother’s affection had thorns that cut both them and her; they had too much of their sire to be anything but painful for her.

Eris didn’t want to blame his mother, but he did regardless. Perhaps her love would not have been enough to save them from their father but it could have been a guy line to hold them down, something to cling to. They had certainly contorted themselves trying to earn it, Elias and Cato even more than him – but when his mother erred, Eris had always been willing to step between her and the consequences, to cause whatever diversion or mistake he needed to in order to take the brunt of Beron’s need to punish and control. Anara never thanked him for it.

Sometimes he woke to her tending his poisoned, festering wounds with a mother’s care; sometimes he was helped, heavy and staggering, to his chambers by Damien and Cato. Sometimes he woke alone in the dungeons and crawled up the steps by himself.

When he was younger it tore at him, even worse than whatever Beron could inflict; he felt the waning and waxing of his mother’s care more deeply than the hounds he’d killed at Beron’s command, than the boyhood friends he’d been forced to whip, than the times he’d had to beat his brothers into unconsciousness. Eventually he learned to expect nothing from her, and so he was never disappointed when that was what he received.

Ever his shadows, his brothers followed suit; what else could they do? Their father’s machinations had taught them to rely on nothing but the surety of misery. Their brotherhood was shored up by the understanding that they would be compelled to cut each other again and again; they’d each had their time as the favoured son, only to learn how fickle Beron’s favour was when it was violently wrested from them by another brother. They had learned that they could bleed for their mother and Anara would let them do it, too withdrawn into her own head to give much care.

The Mother damned him with a heart, though, because Eris would take Beron’s fury for her again. Eris would set her free, one day; he doubted she would look back even once at the Court and the sons she’d been shackled to. Four snakes with hungry black pits for hearts, weaned on violence.

He was in a rotten mood now, dragging himself into a bad temper as he strode through the halls.

The sentry immediately opened the door to his mother’s courtyard for him as he approached. The space was warm with sunlight – true spring meant warmer weather in Autumn, more golden sun and ripe wheatfields than the frosty mornings and dark evenings that would be on them in six months’ time. Autumn oscillated between the two. Anara sat at her customary table, a faerie queen from a storybook even now after centuries beside Beron: her red hair was unbound, spilling down over her emerald brocade dress; her skin luminous with the dappled woodland light. The enchanter’s nightshade and rosehips that lined the pathway seemed to bend towards her, as did the branches overhead.

Lady, they all seemed to whisper. Lady lady lady. We love you so.

His mother’s russet eyes studied him as he approached. They burned him, those eyes. They were the first thing he ever saw. Eris kissed her hand and took his seat beside her, plates of venison cooked with ramsons appearing before them.

“You were late today, Eris,” Anara said mildly, a gentle rebuke that his act was slipping.

“Apologies, mother,” Eris said immediately. He had been distracted, the bond an aching pull on his ribs, pressing him to go cut his way through the Night Court until he found her. It was a liar, whispering the sweet fantasy into his blood that everything would be better if only Aisling were beside him.

That was pure delusion. His life would never be better until he made it so.

He asked after Anara’s day, how she was faring; all mild questions when what he wanted was to ask how she had borne it all these centuries. How she had walked around whole on the surface, but with her heart split in two, and whether the sacrifice had been worth it; if the ache of knowing but not ever having had lessened. If he would ever feel like part of his soul wasn’t now living outside of his body. That was the secret they never addressed though, not in three hundred years – once they put words to it, it would once more become real enough to kill them all.

“There is a change in you,” his mother observed.

“I am as I have ever been,” Eris replied, looking at his plate to escape her watchful, sad gaze.

“You have only ever been changeable,” she insisted with a small smile. Her voice was sweet and warm, deceptive as all things were in Autumn. “You are of me, Eris. I know you.”

Their plates vanished, a tea service re-appearing. His mother always preferred being served by magic rather than servants, though Beron preferred it the other way round – most everyone had a drop of magic, but fewer had High Fae servants.

“Damien said you’ve been courting a female,” Anara said finally. Eris groaned, scrubbing his face in his hands. His mother took it for an admission of guilt. Fucking Damien – of course he’d sussed that his suggestion about Summer had been a lie, and Eris taking advantage of it meant he had something to hide. It was foul play to tell their mother, knowing she’d want details.

“Mother,” he said finally, fiercely. “You know-”

“The Mother blesses us for a reason, Eris,” she cut him off. “Only She knows the currents of the Cauldron, but all things are to Her design.”

Eris gave her a bored look, the strongest rebuke he dared.

“It’s foolish to squander a blessing,” she insisted pointedly, sipping her tea. She was mincing around what she wanted to say, wary of speaking too plainly. Everyone thought he and his brothers learned their ways from Beron, but those in Autumn knew it was his mother who gave them their silver tongues and skill at lying. What other sort of female could survive Beron for centuries?

“I’m not squandering anything, mother,” Eris said through gritted teeth.

She gave him a look as if she regretted having borne him. You plodding idiot, her disappointed eyes seemed to say.

“Your glamour needs work,” she finally sniffed.

-------

Eris had weighed up whether or not to approach Rhysand for days. Dreams of Aisling haunted him at night – ones his own mind conjured, spurred on by the restless, unsatisfied bond, though he’d crawl on his hands and knees for one sent by her. Anything to let him know she was faring well, even if she was still angry at him for leaving her behind. He’d wake in the middle of the night with an aching cock, chest tight and gasping for breath. The moon would mock him from the window.

He hoped she could see it, wherever Rhysand was keeping her. If it was somewhere she couldn’t, then Eris would do everything he could to taint every bit of their fucking City of Starlight. He’d poison the well until they couldn’t look out the window of their mansion without cursing his name.

It took him a few days, but he landed on a course of action.

Eris had nearly all the pieces he needed: Keir’s loyalty, given that Autumn was greatly enriching him by means of that trade agreement; a boon from Rhysand, bought and paid for when he delayed Keir’s arrival to Velaris as a display of goodwill – an eyerolling measure if there ever was one, given that Rhysand had fucked over his cherished cousin in the first place and was futilely trying to backtrack. Still, he had done it, leveraging the wealth of Autumn against Keir.

Or perhaps he’d won it when he’d kept their secrets from Beron even after Cassian’s idiocy fucked him over, or in their repossession of the Made knife they gifted him. There were quite a few instances, really; and still, they were likely telling themselves they were doing the just, right thing by keeping Aisling from him.

All Aisling wanted was to leave that place, to have power over herself. He’d earn her forgiveness and her loyalty with this. She’d belong to him, not just by the bond but in spirit as well, in her heart. That thought spurred him on as he winnowed to the Hewn City, a deep and hungry instinct that was slowly devouring him the more he tried to ignore it.

The last loose piece was Thanatos, pushing back against Keir and Rhysand too quickly. If Eris could just find something to leverage him, to bring him to heel –

The energy in the Hewn City was manic, something crackling round like lightening as he arrived.

A group of fae were dancing together in a circle around a goblin playing the fiddle. The music was reedy and high. As he drew past them he heard that they were singing as well.

His boot’s on the mountain but his head’s in the West, they were singing, moving in a complicated chain. He’ll smash up the city into a rat’s nest! Born in the dark, kills on a lark, father knows best!

An enterprising poet had been at work though his ambition outpaced his skill, in Eris’ estimation. He sneered as he went, weaving around another group of nobles laughing around a brazier with a turning spit, where they were roasting –

He didn’t look closely. The scent of charred flesh was pungent.

Half the court dead, hid in the Queen’s bed, father knows best!

The refrain followed him behind the throne room, slipping through that familiar carved doorway. Stone gargoyles leered down at him from the top of the columns as they always did.

Eris hated this ugly room. The impractical table, the gouges Rhysand left as a show of force – all of it was gauche.

The Hewn City had some beautiful places – the lovely moon garden; his intimate, moody chambers with the carved and gilded walls; Aisling’s elegant, towering home – but they insisted on conducting business here.

“The Darkbringers are eager for battle,” Thanatos told him as he took his seat. “They grow angry and restless. Hungry for blood.”

“Are they not always?” Eris asked. He didn’t trust Thanatos, wasn’t entirely convinced of his motivations. Anyone who came to him for duplicity would work against him just as easily. Eris, of course, was duplicitous himself, so felt this created a natural thread of understanding.

“More so now. The City is collapsing,” Thanatos informed him, almost boredly. “Structurally, not politically, although that will ideally follow.”

Eris smoothed his face instinctively, affecting his usual air of aloof amusement. He quirked a brow and waited Thanatos out.

“A tragedy,” he finally intoned. “At the mine. Several missing and dead, though the true tragedy is that Keir was not among them. He is furious, given that much of his personal wealth derives from it. The gentry are clamouring for Rhysand to act, though he has surprised no one by failing to grace us with his noble presence.”

A sword without a hilt, Thanatos had called the Hewn City. No way to safely grasp it. A boiling pot with a lid so hot it couldn’t be lifted. Eris hadn’t realised how he had intended to go about that, and it was only centuries of control that kept him centred as he stared Thanatos down.

“I suppose that will affect your agreement with Keir as well,” Thanatos continued, depthless black eyes alight. The greyish faelights cast an unflattering tint to his pale skin, leeching him of colour. “It seems we’ll all be worse off. But it’s for the best. The hottest fires make the best blades, and no fire burns hotter than anger.”

He had collapsed the mine himself? A sickening feeling lurched through his stomach, but Eris had endured plenty of these meetings with Beron. He knew the manoeuvre well: something miserable being dumped on his head just to study any reaction, any weakness, anything that could be exploited.

Thanatos was right, in a way; all he felt was angry. A clean, pure burn, right through his chest. Was there anything more humiliating than being reduced to another’s pawn, being made to dance for their amusement? It was debasing, and he’d grown sick of the sour taste. Yet this was all the Night Court understood: power and control and force. There were far more refined ways to manoeuvre.

They only spoke one language here. It was Under the Mountain all over again. Eris had to speak the same way, or else any influence he’d accrued would shatter like glass.

“If you want to destroy yourselves to spite Rhysand then it’s your choice,” Eris sneered, leaning back in his chair, away from the sharp edge of the jagged table. “The trade agreement has already set rates, you’ve cost me nothing. But losing my consort as part of your efforts is an inexcusable fuckup.”

“The female?” Thanatos was visibly surprised by the change of direction, then waved a hand dismissively, covering it. “Pick another. I didn’t think you so sentimental.”

“That one was mine,” Eris snapped, adjusting his cuffs boredly. Thanatos tracked the movement with disdain, no doubt thinking him a spoiled, fussy princeling. “Don’t mistake it for sentimentality – if I wanted her dead I would have killed her myself, because she is my property.”

“Was your property,” Thanatos corrected snidely, but he had the good sense to start looking worried.

Eris had had enough. He should have taken Aisling from this place as soon as he finished fucking her, twisted Rhysand’s arm into letting her go. He could have hidden her in some bolthole in Autumn or Spring – Tarquin was shaping up to be a weak-willed bitch, he could have pressured him into allowing her in Summer –

“Find her body or I will ensure Rhysand never lets you leave that fucking mine until you do,” Eris demanded, knowing full well Aisling’s body wasn’t there because she was neither dead nor in the Hewn City.

That didn’t matter. Let Thanatos sweat and panic; it would be good for him. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, winnowing directly from the chamber and back to Autumn. Time and space passed by in a rush, and then the forest overhead rustled its welcome, trees greeting their lord and master.

He had one more house call to make, tonight or tomorrow. The timing was lucky.

-------

In the end he waited an extra day, counting on Cassian’s laziness and lack of curiosity.

Eris almost felt bad, as he winnowed to that bleak human manor. The landscape, owned by humans and reluctant to accept magical interference from Lucien, was still bleak and blighted from the war, only starting to fill in several years along.

“Baby brother,” he crooned to Lucien, strolling in after popping his way through the wards and physically locked door. He had enough shared blood with his brother that he could generally work his way through, though lately Lucien hadn’t been trying as hard to keep him out. For a Vanserra, it was practically an invitation.

Lucien was in their sitting room, on a plush, comfortable-looking sofa. He didn’t seem surprised to see him, likely alerted by his wards as soon as Eris winnowed. He had likely been expecting him anyways – Eris never did like the way the Night Court had poached him, and even less the way they used him to liaise with Tamlin.

The manor was quaint, all worn stone and overstuffed bookshelves. Still, it had a distinctly human quality about it that made Eris uncomfortable; even more so to see Lucien among it like he belonged there.

“Eris,” Lucien greeted him, already sounding resigned.

“Shithead,” Jurian greeted him in the same tone. Eris didn’t stoop to respond to that, merely taking a seat on the ugly pink chaise.

“Where’s the lovely Vassa? A shame she wasn’t the one made fae,” Eris sighed. “We could have replaced you with her, Lucien. She’d make an excellent Vanserra.”

Jurian glowered murderously at him for that, somehow louder than the volume of Lucien’s sigh. “She’s visiting Rask, her former kingdom. Are you here for a purpose, Eris?”

“You don’t care to spend time with me?” Eris asked, but Lucien had grown up in Autumn and was too savvy to be drawn in by easy baiting. “Fraternal loyalty aside, I’m here to speak about Calanmai. As I’m sure you know, Tamlin could not find it in himself to complete the Rite.”

“Blonde cunt always was a bit of a wet rag,” Jurian added grimly.

He wasn’t here to speak about Calanmai, but Cassian would be. Rhysand never sent Azriel to deal with Lucien and wouldn’t deign to go himself. He wouldn’t send Morrigan – she avoided anything with red hair and a cock now – and Amren couldn’t winnow.

“You’d walk that back if you ever saw him in his peak,” Lucien said idly, looking towards the ceiling. “The blonde hair did most of the work for him.”

Eris smirked at that as Lucien stood before Cassian could even knock. As the brute himself shouldered into the room behind his brother, Eris glanced boredly in his direction. He tromped dried mud into the room, leaving clumps of it on the rug.

“Isn’t this familiar,” Eris drawled, propping one ankle on his knee. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, brow furrowing in an expression that made him look even dumber than usual. “It feels like we’re all getting to be dear friends.”

Jurian snorted, but Lucien heaved another sigh.

“Thought you might be here,” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. Lucien suddenly bristled at that, turning to stare at Eris accusingly.

Eris shrugged. “And you flew all this way to inflict your presence upon me? Delightful.”

“No, I’m here to see Lucien. Rhys wants your report on Spring, about Calanmai,” Cassian said, turning away and dismissing Eris.

Lucien balked. He was loyal, his brother, perhaps to a fault – to causes, to people. Whatever bound him and Tamlin still existed. Flaying himself and his old friend open to the brute of all people, stripping it down for secrets and gossip to further Rhys’ influence – it had to hurt him.

“You couldn’t get in to Spring? And yet your High Lord was so keen to constantly barge in on Tamlin. Does he need a new hobby, now that he needs to mind his own affairs?” Eris asked, eyes narrowing. “He must have so few, what with only ruling one city.”

Cassian glared at that, at any perceived slight against his master, right on cue. Eris wondered idly if Nesta minded being the third in their relationship or if Cassian had succeeded in convincing her it was all she deserved.

Once he had her, Eris would never humiliate Aisling like that. Like Beron did to his mother – the world was already so eager to make females feel small, and Aisling had already spent her life stooping to fit in her cage. If she was to stand beside him it would be with her spine straight, looking down on them all.

“You’re pissy,” Cassian observed, a grin suddenly spreading across his features. “Not getting enough company?”

Here it fucking was. Eris kept silent, staring Cassian down, daring him to say more. He would – the brute couldn’t help but run his mouth, gloat about any perceived advantage like an arrogant child.

“We’ve left her alone with Az,” Cassian continued, smirking as he held Eris’ gaze. “I’ve heard they’re keeping all their rooms pitch black. They must be getting on, we barely see him, but then – females always play nicely with him.”

Cassian was trying to bait him. The attempt was so obvious, so lacking in any finesse, and still Eris bristled. Cassian laughed at whatever he thought he saw on his face.

He let himself picture a miserable, frightened Aisling being dragged around like Rhysand’s captive –

A log popped in the hearth in a shower of sparks, the flame blazing so hot it was near blue.

“Eris,” Lucien cautioned quietly as the room heated. Cassian’s smarmy grin broadened. Jurian was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the tension unfold like a sporting match. This was light work, compared to everything he’d witnessed as an enchanted eyeball.

“Should I go say hello to her? Give her a little kiss from you, make sure Az is keeping her at his heel? Don’t worry, he treats his females so well.” Cassian crooned,

“It may have worked on Nesta to lock her in with you until she agreed to fuck you, but Aisling’s a different breed,” Eris said smoothly, feeling vicious, feral satisfaction as he saw the blow land. Cassian wore his insecurities on his sleeve; there was almost no sport in it. His eyes grew dark, any mocking look dropping straight off his face. “She’s well used to your High Lord’s preferred treatment. You lot do salivate over imprisoning females. But what else can we expect from Illyrians?”

Jurian chuckled at that, mad brown eyes delighted as Cassian snarled at the room.

“Who even told you that I locked Nes up, that’s fucking ridiculous-” Cassian seethed while Lucien studied the ceiling innocuously. Eris only smiled in response, the sort of arrogant, aloof smirk that drove a lash against Cassian’s anger.

“It verges on a fetish, really,” Eris told Jurian casually, watching the doorframe creak under Cassian’s grip. “Rather embarrassing when Rhysand made such a production of telling all of Prythian he was so enlightened.”

Lucien didn’t react but the corners of his mouth did kick up ever so slightly. He must be bored by Rhysand and his bats; the work he had Lucien doing was certainly tedious enough. Overseeing humans and Tamlin? It was only to keep him away from his insipid little mate.

Unfortunately for Rhysand, that trick wouldn’t work twice. Eris had far fewer scruples than Lucien, and much more ambition.

“If you’re thinking about smashing the place up then get the fuck out,” Jurian ordered, looking dangerous despite the casual posture. He was watching Cassian’s shoulders bunch, his wings flaring in that Illyrian base instinct.

“That’s enough,” Lucien said sternly. It was sufficient warning that Cassian suddenly seemed to remember he wasn’t among friends here.

“I’ll travel back to Velaris and give my report to Rhys in person,” Lucien said firmly, ever courtly. His baby brother was a treasure, well trained to the last. “Do let him know I’ll be there within the week.”

“Of course,” Cassian seemed to recover, casting another surly glower at Eris.

Eris watched him go, striding out the door angrily. Lucien was looking sidelong at him as they heard the thunderclap of wings departing in a strop. Good – let Cassian lick his wounds at Rhysand’s feet and tell him what a venomous, miserable snake he was. Let Rhysand wonder when Eris would come calling, especially if Thanatos and Keir came calling for Aisling as well. He owed him a bargain, and Eris fully intended to shatter Rhysand’s illusion that he was untouchable.

He was losing his grip on his anger. All the old slights and offenses were bubbling up, every arrogant, nasty little comeuppance they’d every dishes out. He remembered them all – Nesta’s unflattering snigger as Cassian smugly informed him of his exposure to Beron, the delight in their eyes as they mocked the threat to his life. Cassian dubbing him a coward after he kept their petty secrets under Beron’s knife, faebane still heavy on his tongue. The slaughter of his soldiers, the repossession of the Made dagger. And before, Feyre’s fire scorching his mother and the absurd violence at the meeting they had called and assured would be peaceful. Breaking into his brothers’ minds to erase the memory of Feyre’s stolen magic. He remembered all the insults, all the disdain, every trampling of boundaries. He could picture the preening, gloating victory in their eyes as they held Aisling in their little city. But he knew how tricky Aisling was to hold. Smoke, ready to slip straight through his hands.

“What,” Eris finally said as he heard Lucien’s eye clicking, making him shake his head. “Is whatever you’re up to going to cost me a job?” Lucien finally asked, russet eye narrowed as he sized Eris up. Lucien had made that face when he was a child, too, squinting exactly like that when they played games and Eris cheated his way to victory, and Lucien tried to work out how.

“You have three,” Eris said peevishly, suddenly a mere fifty years old again and arguing with his brother. “Rhysand should know better than to take from the Autumn Court. You’ve let him insult you for too long, he’s grown comfortable with it.”

The moment grew long, and the flame in Lucien’s eye – he was Autumn through and through, that was their mother’s blood – suddenly softened.

“I’ll see to her,” Lucien said gently. Damn him, Eris had only come here to prod Cassian into being his messenger. Lucien always was so much more intuitive, so much more giving, than Eris could ever expect.

Eris swallowed and said, “Living among humans has made you soft,” because he never did learn how to say the words thank you.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #hewn city

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