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#And then while I was writing a comment on the fic itself I got the notification that the author followed me here and I got cold feet about
nalyra-dreaming · 2 days
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Hello! I’ve seen you say a couple times* that there are hints and parallels in the show that could mean they’re going to make Lestat’s rape into vampirism literal, which would be a really interesting adaptation. I’m curious what hints you saw in season one 👀 I have some vague ideas but I’d love to hear your analysis!
*i keep going back to reading your “Monstrous are what monsters be”; it’s incredible
Hey!
Glad you like the fic! It's... been very hard to write, and I bet it will be even worse to watch... :/
So for the hints.... Well, I mean, for one it is good to know (or remember, depending on if you've read it^^), that the turning scene in TVL is written as a rape with forced orgasm.
The show has added sex to it all - and they have added sexual assault.
I know Rolin Jones put his foot into his mouth a bit wrt to Claudia, but... I think there's reasons for it all (and why he did not further elaborate), especially since this show so loves both the parallels and the mirroring.
And if you listen to him in the podcast? It's very clear, imho.
Now, as for the hints etc we already got:
There's tears in Lestat's eyes when he realizes that Claudia has been hurt while she was away. He cannot read her, but he clocks in on it right away. He recognizes.
The sexual assault of Claudia we hear of in and by itself. Unfortunately all too common. It is what ultimately drives her back, and what... ultimately nourishes her hatred of her guardians/parents.
Lestat says to Louis that there is a "darkness in her that wasn't there before", again, a darkness he recognizes.
Armand reacts to Daniel's "save it for the rent boy" comment in a rather telling way, at least if you know that he was sold as a sex slave while mortal (book canonically)
Lestat mentally hunts down and tracks Bruce. Now I know the train scene is hard to stomach in the way it is told, but that detail always stuck out for me. He says Louis did not want him to ask, but he not only knows who did it, he also knows that he has a motorbike and is roaming the american hinterlands. That takes a lot of mind scanning to achieve, and speaks of a lot of empathy for what happened to her - and anger.
The way Lestat talks about his own turning. "He kept me for a week", "fed on me every night", "my eyes, my physique". The show has already extended the horror to a week. Magnus later chooses to look like Lestat (at least in parts), a very fucked-up detail Anne put into the books, he desires Lestat and the way he looks. That mixed up with sexual desire that is fused with the blood? Harrowing.
The show very poignantly made sure Louis would consent to his turning, a change from the books and even the movie. I think that in and by itself is also a direct result from making that literal, the way Lestat was/will be forced. (Btw. another parallel: Claudia did not get to have a choice either, and that is something that she comments on, too.)
The hate sex (aftermath). I have spoken about it, but the aftermath of the hate sex, this very rough sex, and the bruises, and the bites, and the scratches, and the stab wounds... and then the way Lestat holds himself there, and the way Louis looks at him.
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They can see things in the blood. Louis knows, more than Claudia does, there.
So all these little things... speak a very clear language, imho.
Also - it is important for the upcoming arcs (with Armand).
Because Lestat was forced.
And Armand will try to force him as well.
Which is why they never really got together.
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sparkysomething · 10 months
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writing for a big fandom has spoiled me because I posted a new fic three hours ago and the fact that it hasn’t gotten any comments yet is making me anxious that it was actually awful. three hours! I STILL have PacRim fic out there that hasn’t gotten a single comment in like seven years and I’m totally chill about that. like that’s just how it is. but with batman it’s just like oh so the 100+ people who have somehow already read this hated it then
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one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)
#whosebaby talks#for one thing i met my abusive ex through reading his fics on AO3 for years before we *actually* met and started interacting directly#more specifically me and my *other* abusive ex were fans of his during that time; and gushed a lot to each other in private about his fics#and Indirect Interaction with Ficwriter Crush Through Posting Fic to AO3 was one of the things that *got* us both posting on AO3 for a whil#that's not remotely the only reason i have baggage about it but. yeah.#it has taken me like four years to get to the point where i can *mostly* look in the AO3 tags for any given fandom i'm in#without feeling panicky or sick. mostly.#and not having had anything i felt able or up to posting there for so long means right now the bulk of my current stuff on AO3 is either#'hey remember when you were in an abusive/otherwise hideously toxic friendship/relationship while you were posting this'#or 'hey remember when you were involved in a fandom community that was positive + supportive; that's dead now or you wandered away from it'#'or both; and now it's too late to go back'#which itself is just. tied to a lot of trauma from *before* Fandom as It is These Days Being Its Current Flavor of Fucking Mess#and there are a lot of years-old lovely comments on my old fics that i feel deeply guilty for not having responded to before now#which it's probably not too late to and that's the beauty of AO3. but just. it's a lot#as well as the constant voice whispering in my ear that 'okay well you were pretty good at writing Once but you peaked and now you're shit'#there's a Lot. so yes i am hoping that having meta to post will help put a little distance there#while still preserving my old writing and the snapshots of who i used to be#because she deserved that much; regardless of how the person i am now feels about her; and the evidence that she was there.#anyway. this post brought to you by found a bunch of glowing recs for my exes' fics i had completely forgotten in my dusty AO3 bookmarks#it was an unpleasant surprise but after the initial OH EW that they were there all that time it feels good to know that it's gone#personal stuff#abuse cw#the salt files
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kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months
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Follow Me Down
Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.
Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)
A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
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Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.
He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.
“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.
You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.
“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.
You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you. 
“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.
You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.
Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.
“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”
He was disgusting. 
“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.
You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.
Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.
“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”
You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you. 
You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?
After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.
“Robert-” you started to bark.
“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.
You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.
“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”
Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.
“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”
He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.
“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”
Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.
“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”
You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.
“What are you, twelve?” you asked. 
He just smiled. 
“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.
As you started to walk away, he called after you.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”
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Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.
Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level. 
You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.
This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.
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You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.
Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.
“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.
You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about. 
“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.
“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.
It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.
“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.
You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.
Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.
“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.
Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.
“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”
“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”
Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.
“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”
“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”
“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”
You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.
“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”
“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.
“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”
Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.
“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.
You were taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.
You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.
“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”
Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.
“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.
Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.
Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder. 
“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest. 
The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.
“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar. 
The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.
“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”
You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.
“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.
You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.
“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”
You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.
“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”
“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.
You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well,  you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.
You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.
“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.
Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.
“On your back.”
He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.
You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.
“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”
“I thought I told you to shut up.”
You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.
Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.
You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.
Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him. 
When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.
“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.
Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.
“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?” 
You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.
“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?” 
Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.
“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”
“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.
“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.
He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.
Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg. 
“Use me to get yourself off.”
Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.
“Robert-”
You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.
“Mm, say my name, baby.”
He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.
“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.
Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.
“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.
“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”
Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure. 
“Fuck," you gasped.
Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.
You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.
“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.
You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.
“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual. 
“Poor little rich boy.”
It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.
“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.
You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.
“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”
Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.
He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”
In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.
“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.
Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.
“In your dreams,” you muttered.
“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.
As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.
“There, was that so hard?”
Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.
“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”
You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.
“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”
You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.
“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”
“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered. 
“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”
He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”
His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.
“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”
His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size. 
“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.
“You- wish-”
Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper. 
“Fuck, Robert-!”
You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.
“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked. 
You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.
“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”
Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.
His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.
You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.
“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.
“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”
“Not… not inside,” you panted.
“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”
“Don't fucking come in me!”
Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.
Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.
Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.
You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.
“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”
You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.
Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.
“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”
You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.
“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed. 
Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
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sincerlyleclerc · 26 days
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Hii!!👋🏻 Could you write a scenario where Gavi doesn't like being pampered by his teammates at all but when Y/N is the one pampering him, he lets her and smiles like a fool, which causes jokes and protests from the other boys? Something fluffy 😊💕
pampered
gavi x reader
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warnings: just a bunch of fluffff
a/n: i love love love this idea it’s so cute and literally it’s just so gavi also very excited cause this is my first soccer fic so i hope you enjoyyy (i did my best) 🤍🤍
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“awwww pablito no novia hoy?” *awwww pablito no girlfriend today* pedri teased gavi with a ruffle of his hair as he came up to gavi’s side, them now walking together. pedri tossing his arm around gavi’s shoulder when joão jogged up to them. “pedri” gavi groaned out as he shoved pedri’s arm off of him, his hands coming up to fix his hair. “que te pasa?” *what’s wrong with you* joão shoved gavi’s shoulder softly with his hand, gavi stumbling forward as he fixed his hair with an annoyed tsk of his lips. pedri spoke your name as he looked over at joão, “ella no está aquí así que él está pouting.” *she’s not here so he’s pouting* they both laughed as they teased the boy. pedri putting his arm around gavi again as he pinched gavi’s cheeks as if he was an upset child. “ayyyy do you need a hug?” joão speaks sarcastically as he throws his arms around gavi dramatically, lifting him a few inches off the ground. gavi pushing himself away with protests of “ja no me toques” *yeah don’t touch me*
usually you would always go to most of gavi’s trainings even though you wouldn’t really do anything except sit watching, occasionally go on your phone, and maybe do some work but you went anyway because gavi had told you he liked you being there. you would bring lunch for after his practice for the both of you because you knew he always got hungry but today you weren’t there because you had lost track of time. you had accidentally left 20 minutes late so you were rushing to go get lunch and then head to the field.
“i’m not pouting.” gavi glared over to pedri whom was smiling at him. they all three walked over to the bench where they sat catching their breath and drinking water. “yes you are,” pedri and joão spoke in unison as they giggled like middle schoolers. “mira, has tenido esa misma cara toda práctica” *look you’ve had that same face all practice* joão speaks, mocking gavi’s face with a pout of his lip and a frown before laughing once more. “no, es más bien..” *no it’s more like* pedri’s hand came up to hit joão softly to catch his attention before he began fake crying as he rubbed his eyes. “cállate” *shut up* gavi punches pedri in the arm, causing a soft ow to come from pedri as they all walked into the changing rooms. they began grabbing their bags and cleats after they changed, making small conversation while gavi still had a moody face on. “sí, y por eso te perdiste dos de tus objetivos de calentamiento, estúpido” *yeah and that’s why you missed two of your warm up goals stupid* pedri teased smacking the back of joão head. “hey it’s windy today.” joão rubbed his head while trying to make an excuse. it was in fact a sunny 70 degree day and not windy. “pedri, tú también te perdiste uno” *pedri you missed one too* “si, solo uno!” *yeah only one* pedri shouted while shrugging and throwing shade to joão’s two missed goals. gavi’s eyes glued to the ground as they neared the parking lot before he looked up to see you with a bag of food in hand. a smile quickly growing on gavi’s face as he jogged away from joão and pedri, over to you. gavi’s arm immediately wrapping around you, his face burying itself into your neck. pedri looks over at joão “told you he was pouting.” gavi ignores their comments and laughter as he pulls back your you to make eye contact when you began speaking. “lo siento, mi amor me fui tarde, lost track of time” *im sorry my love i left late, lost track of time* you smiled as you looked up at him, your hand coming up to fix his messed up hair. “it’s ok, just missed you.” his thumb lifting your chin up softly as he kissed you before joão and pedri came up to shove gavi “cómo es que nunca abrazas y nos besas así?” *how come you never hug and kiss us like that* gavi’s face falls straight before he pushed pedri, making him stumble and catching himself. “así que supongo que eso significa que no puedo recibir un beso?” *so i guess that means i can’t get a kiss* joão laughed, backing up before gavi could pick him as his next victim to hit or push. pedri and joão giving you and gavi a playful goodbye before they both got into joão’s car and left. leaning up you placed a soft kiss on gavi’s cheek, a light kiss mark leaving a stain that he didn’t wipe off. “how was training?” you spoke softly as you both began to walk over to your car “terrible with out you.” gavi’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he kissed the top of your head with a love sick smile.
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a/n: not me finally writing a happy fic 😭😭 hope you liked it hope this was a least a little bit of what you had in mind and as always give your feedback, if you want to be added to my taglist just lmk and yeah more fics to come love youuu 🤍🤍
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taglist: @chonkybonky @m0cha-bunny
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horehaus · 7 months
Text
What? Never heard of demons before? ---Hantengu clones x fem.reader--- Karaku x reader
a/n - started writing it, had a breakdown (unrelated to the fic itself), repeated that a couple more times, some ideas got lost on the way and the final version (this one) is not quite what I had in mind at first BUT it's done now :) thanks for all the nice comments and feedback so far, yall made me cry more times than I would like to admit ;_;
Smut ahead, please keep scrolling if you're under 18 years of age or otherwise uncomfortable with this type of content! thanks
🌟Warnings? (let me know if I missed any) fingering, a lil overstim?, reader a bit uncomfy physically at times, praise?, multiple creampies/orgasms, rough sex (duh), multiple positions (riding, missionary,doggy) - also - mentions of violence, kidnapping, biting & blood - Reader described to be female and is over the age of 18. (about 3,8k words)🌟
"Intro" here --- Part 1 (Aizetsu) --- Part 2 (Urogi)
--- Slowly getting used to your new life in a house with four demons there was only one thing bothering you - why was the green-eyed one suddenly being so nice to you, after all he'd put you through? ---
Maybe it was the fact that you were now in a sexual relationship of sorts with two of the four demons in the house, but you were slowly getting out of the fight-or-flight-mode you had been in ever since your (un)fortunate walk in the woods. 
It had been a couple of weeks since you got, well, kidnapped, but you didn't really mind for some reason - they weren't hurting you, and at least Aizetsu and Urogi seemed to even care about you - bringing you stuff from their "missions" (that they never told you anything about and you had found it better not to ask either), and always making sure you didn't get bored or scared while they were in the house with you. Even Sekido, who was the literal manifestation of anger, never raised his voice at you - except whenever you'd bring up the idea of going outside by yourself, in which case he had a little more trouble keeping his emotion in check.
Karaku however was still a total mystery to you. You had no idea what emotion he represented, nor what it was that he wanted from you, and the fact that he hadn't touched you in any way after the night he'd brought you in confused you - that night had made you believe getting bitten and hurt was going to be something you would just have to deal with from then on out, but he had made absolutely no kind of move towards you. He cooked for you every night (for some reason) and you had many interesting conversations together but no, he didn't seem to want anything from you in return. 
So when Aizetsu asked if you would be okay with being left alone with Karaku for a couple of nights while him and the two others would go on a longer mission together, you just said yes, not thinking much about it.
...
"What do you wanna eat tonight?" Karaku asks you as soon as you enter his line of sight. You smile at him and shrug.
"Anything you feel like making is fine"
It was kind of odd how good of a cook he was despite not being able to eat anything he made himself - "human food" was not something demons could digest apparently - but you weren't complaining. You sit in the living room to read a book Aizetsu had gotten you the other night, when a thought suddenly pops into your head. 
"Hey Karaku" you blurt out and turn around to look at the demon standing in the open kitchen. 
"Yeah?"
"I've been thinking about something"
"What is it?"
"Urogi told me a while ago that you four are all technically clones from the same person, not separate people"
"True"
"Yeah. So how come him and Aizetsu are clearly into me but you and Sekido aren't?"
Karaku sighs and puts the knife he was holding on the counter to look at you with a cocky smirk on his face.
"Who says I'm not?"
Your surprised expression seemed to amuse him even more. 
"W-what?" you mumble out, trying to hide your nervousness. 
"Who says I'm not into you?"
"You- you like me?"
"Well I obviously don't want to eat you, so why do you think I'm keeping you around?"
...
The rest of the night Karaku acts as if nothing had happened, but you couldn't help but keep thinking about his words. You tried analyzing every word and gesture he said and made towards you, making the demon laugh at the skeptical look you had on your face for the entirety of the night you spent together. By the morning you had almost shrugged the whole thing off, but just as you were heading to Aizetsu's room Karaku decided to surprise you again.
"Wanna sleep in my room tonight?"
You turn around to look at him with a defeated expression on your face. Now you ask?
"Won't you get lonely?" he continued, a surprisingly genuine tone in his voice. 
And suddenly he was getting on your nerves - the laid-back attitude, his kindness towards you, the sudden respect he had for your personal space, the constant shirtlessness, the list went on. You had no idea what it was he wanted from you, and it was driving you insane at this point. 
"I'll be fine" you say and smile -he didn't need to know everything that was going on in your head, especially since that something just so happened to be him at the moment. You lay down on the bed and exhale loudly, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
Why now?
You'd never seen Karaku with a shirt on, but for some reason tonight was the night his body began to invade your mind like no tomorrow. You turn around and bury your face in the pillow, letting out another loud sigh. "Well he did say sleep, right?" you think, trying to rationalize your potential decision to accept his offer anyways.
...
"Hey Karaku" you mutter from the door. 
"I got lonely"
The demon smiles at you and lifts the covers as a signal for you to get in the bed with him. You lie down on your back and pull the covers all the way up to your face before looking at him. He glances at you, still annoyingly calm, with a small smirk on his face as if he had won a race.
"You good?" he said, questioning the way you were staring at him from under the blanket. You shake your head and turn to face away from him. 
...
You wake up the next evening with Karaku spooning you and panic a little before realizing that you really had just slept together. You try to get up, but he was holding your body too firmly, leaving you no other choice but to wake him up. 
"Karaku"
"Hm?"
"I'm hungry"
"Oh. Want me to make you something?" he asks and lets go of you to rub his eyes, still clearly half-asleep. You nod and get up from the bed, still processing the whole situation, now getting pissed off at your own brain for developing this sudden obsession about him. Maybe his emotion was frustration? That would not explain why you were feeling it, though. And he was way too calm about everything anyways. 
...
That night went by like most - you talked, he made sure you have "everything a human needs to stay alive", and in the morning you end up going straight into his room to sleep. You get in his bed right as he steps out of the shower, locking eyes with him for a second before your mind starts to wander along with your gaze. Did he always look this good though? You thought as you stared at his fit, tanned body, his muscular arms, his abs...
"What?" he said, clearly amused by the way you were suddenly checking him out. Your eyes widen as you turn away and mumble something back. What was wrong with you? Not only did he look exactly like his counterparts, the man walks around without a shirt all the damn time, so you literally had no idea why you were suddenly acting like this yourself. 
"You know what? No. What's your deal?" you suddenly blurt out after he lies down next to you and turn to face him. 
"Why? What do you mean?" he asks, turning to face you, the smile on his face indicating he knew exactly what you meant. 
"First you kidnap me-" you start, your eyes traveling up and down his body
"-Assault me-" you continue, not realizing the innocent smile on his face widening with every word you threw at him
"-Then you suddenly just leave me alone and do all these nice things for me-" you get out as he lifts you on top of him, his gaze never straying from your face as you spoke
"- And now I'm just supposed to believe all you wanted from me was a sip of my blood?" You finally finish and look down at Karaku, whose hands had found their way on your upper thighs, pressing gently on your skin as he kept his eyes on yours. You try to ignore the fact that you were now sitting on top of him, not wanting to give in to anything he was trying to do - at least not yet. 
"Go on" he said, very carefully pressing your body down on him, making you squirm a bit.
"Why me?" you ask. 
"Because I like pretty things" he said and sat up with you still on his lap, gently grabbing you by your throat and lifting your head up with his thumb while holding you in place with his other hand.
"And if I like something, who's gonna stop me from taking it?"
You roll your eyes before looking into his, gritting your teeth in frustration. 
"You really hurt me that night you know"
"Then let me make it up to you" he cooed.
"What if I don't want you to?" you ask, knowing full well you do and that he wouldn't buy it.
"You're adorable, you know that?" he says before leaning in to kiss you, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to force a small whine out of you. 
"Go on then, tell me to stop" he grins as he pulls away. You stare at him for a moment, trying to look even a little mad, but after seeing his smile only grow, decide to give up. 
"...No" you manage to get out, causing the demon to chuckle.
"Never thought I'd be happy to hear that word from your mouth"
...
And there you were, sitting on Karaku's lap facing away from him, legs spread as he had one hand on your throat forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror that sat on the other side of the room, your cheeks heating up at the sight while his other hand was making its way between your legs. 
"W-wait" you blurted out right as his fingers found the fabric of your underwear. 
"Hm?" 
"I forgot to ask you-" your words get cut off by your own soft moan as his other hand traveled down from your neck to play with one of your breasts through the oversized shirt you were still wearing. 
"Go ahead" he muttered back while pressing soft kisses all over your shoulder and neck.
"What's your- um, emotion?"
You felt his smile widen on your skin before he pulled away.
"Oh- you'll see" he said, but with the way his hands were caressing your body there was no way you could push the issue any further, as you were already biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep the sounds of your growing excitement to a minimum.
This might have been the first time you two were being intimate together, and you might have still had your clothes on, but having him touch you like this felt like it was something you had been unknowingly craving for a long time, to the point you almost felt ashamed of how badly you wanted more.
You tried running away from his touch by backing up on his lap, but only got a smug chuckle out of him as your ass pressed against the bulge in his pants. He was clearly way more patient than his two counterparts, taking his sweet time teasing you over your clothes and gently kissing your neck like he hadn't spent the last two weeks gritting his teeth in his room, listening to you getting fucked by either Urogi or Aizetsu almost every day, remembering the way you had looked at him in the forest and thinking about ways he could make you look at him like that again but from something else than fear. You open your mouth to say something as your muscles tense up, but instead only let out a cry-like moan as the knot building up inside you suddenly just snaps, making Karaku bury his face in the curve of your neck to muffle his own cursing as your body involuntarily grinds on him before you come down from your high.
His hand barely leaves the now soaked fabric of your underwear before you were already laying on your back on the bed, still panting quietly as your eyes meet his for just a moment. The usual calmness he had painted on his face was gone, replaced by pure lust and something you didn't quite recognize - the unfamiliarity of said expression sending shivers down your spine.
You sit up right as he pulls you into a greedy kiss, his hand making its way under the waistband of your panties and pulling them right off, making your body jolt lightly forwards on the bed and forcing you to lean on your arms for support. He moves his lips back on your neck, gliding his fingers on the wet mess between our legs before pushing one inside, making you whimper softly into his ear.
You almost expected his self-control to finally break, mainly because of the poorly concealed cursing and heavy breaths escaping his lips, but lost that thought as soon as he added another finger into you and started gently rubbing his thumb on your still very sensitive clit.
He wasn’t losing his self-control - just admiring the way your body was responding to everything he was doing.
He knew exactly what he was doing - pumping his thick fingers in and out of you, somehow reaching weak spots you didn't even know you had, making your whole body twist in pleasure as he studied your every reaction in awe. He knew he had to prep you for him to even think about actually fucking you, but part of him would have been fine just being able to see and hear your pleasure for the rest of the day.
“Come on baby” he muttered as your back arches ever so slightly off the bed and your moans turn into almost inaudible cries, tears starting to cloud your vision as you hold on to the bedsheets from the intensity of your climax. He grinned at your already fucked-out expression before taking his own pants off and lifting you on top of him. 
The way your body seemed to weigh absolutely nothing to these demons would have been scary in any other context, but you were kind of into being put into positions they found the best for fucking you - Karaku not being an exception to the rule.
"You okay?" he asks as you are kneeling on top of him, seeing the anticipation on your face starting to mix in with nervousness as you realize that he was, in fact, bigger than his counterparts - something you hadn't prepared yourself mentally for at all. 
"Yeah" you answer and lift your head to look at him, seeing his almost worried face turn into a smirk after he realized what was going on inside your head. 
"Good"
He flashes you a reassuring smile as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. You hold on to his shoulders for support and start slowly lowering yourself, your thighs already trembling with barely his tip inside you. 
“Fuck..” you moan out as your head falls on his shoulder, your struggling making the demon sigh impatiently. 
“C’mon baby, it’s not that big” he whispers in your ear - genuinely thinking you were just being dramatic - before tightening his grip on your hips and roughly forcing the rest of himself into you. You cry out and start squirming from the discomfort, but he keeps holding you down until you stop, your movements only making him groan in pleasure.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, trying to sound like he cared while holding back the urge to ignore your cries and start pounding into you from below. You just shake your head lightly in response, breathing softly while trying to suppress the need to whine out as his tip was pressed against your cervix in an almost painful manner. 
He grabs your chin again to pull you into another kiss, shoving his tongue roughly into your mouth to distract himself long enough for you to get used to his size before either of you would start moving. You both fall on the bed, Karaku now laying on his back and you on top of him, your mouths pressed together in a hungry kiss while his hands were wandering on your body and lifting your shirt as a sign for you to get rid of it - which you do right after pulling away from the kiss and getting back up. Biting your lip you then start moving your hips slowly, hoping you would be the one to do all the work, but after seeing the way Karaku was clearly holding himself back you could just hope he wouldn’t at least forget the fact you were not a demon like him. 
You were on top of him in the first place only because he wanted you to be, after all.
“Aww, that the best you can do?” He asked teasingly, but the look in his eyes betrayed his tone as he was practically begging for you to give him permission to take over. You instinctively knew once you’d given him any sort of verbal permission to do what he wanted to, there was no way you could make him stop anymore, but the way your legs were getting weak from the mere girth of his length inside your walls gave you no other choice but to whine out a small “yeah”.
He flashes you an almost relieved smile before his hands are back on your hips, this time grabbing you hard enough to nearly break the skin as he starts moving, the first thrust making you cry out in pain as he rammed himself fully into you in one go. You quickly start adjusting to his pace however, the pain turning into pleasure and your cries back into the moans the demon had grown to love so much. 
“Fuck you feel good” he mumbled under his breath, his mind going hazy from being able to hear and see your pleasure as he stared at your naked body bouncing up and down on his, taking every inch of his length like you were made just for him. His consistent pace starts to slowly form another knot inside you as your muscles tense up again, which in turn makes the green-eyed demon snap out of his trance-like state for a moment, the way you were getting absolutely drunk off his dick getting him close to his own climax. He lowers his other hand between your legs and starts flicking his thumb over your clit, the added stimulation turning your moans into incoherent whimpering as you clench around him, closing your now teary eyes to focus on the euphoria washing over you. 
You fall forward on the demon's chest right as he reaches his high and lay still as you both breathe heavily for a moment before locking eyes with each other again as you lift your head back up. Karaku wipes the tears from your eyes with his thumb before cupping your cheek with his hand and smiling at you almost menacingly. “Shit” you think to yourself as he throws you on the bed and gets on top of you. You try to back up on the bed to get away from him while shaking your head, but he stops your attempt by placing his arms on either side of your head, laughing at the shocked expression on your face.
“Karaku please I- I can’t” you sob as he lines himself to your entrance and slowly pushes back into you.
“Oh course you can baby” he coos, watching your eyes roll back from pleasure as he bottoms out. 
“No, I-” you try pleading again through the broken moans leaving your mouth. You try to push him away as he started slowly moving his hips, but only got your arms pinned above your head and a hand on your mouth to shut you up as he hushed you, the sight of you clearly being overstimulated being way too amusing for him to actually give you a moment to recover between rounds. 
“You say that, but you’re already taking me so well” he whispers with clear adoration in his tone, keeping his hand on your mouth until your body finally relaxes under him and you stop struggling. Feeling the pain subside you sigh in relief and glance at him as angrily as you could, knowing he would probably only laugh at the expression. "Asshole" you mumble under your breath, although you couldn’t really be that mad at him - being a demon he probably didn’t understand the point of having breaks since he obviously didn’t need any himself. 
“Oh?” he grins in response and picks up his pace just enough to make your head fall back as the moans you were trying to suppress started pouring out of your now open mouth. The cocky smile on his face only widens right before he leans down to kiss you again, muffling any further attempts of backtalk on your part in the process. You could feel his entire body weight being pressed down onto you with every deep thrust, as if he had finally forgotten how fragile your body was compared to his, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less, the pleasure you felt being way too overwhelming despite the rough treatment you were receiving. After breaking the kiss you bury your face in his chest, whimpering with tears in your eyes. Chasing his own release Karaku kept bullying himself into you while panting in your ear, completely ignoring your nails digging into his shoulders and the way your muscles tightened around him,and after a couple more deep strokes and an animalistic grunt you feel the familiar warmth filling you up for the second time as you own legs start shaking from the intensity of your climax. 
Being way too weak to put up a fight you only manage to let out a small yelp as you find yourself laying on your stomach not even a minute later. 
“Ass up”
You whine out something in protest, but do as he asked anyway as he grabs your arms again and pins them on your back. 
“Look at you being so obedient” he laughed jokingly and leaned down to kiss your neck before roughly shoving your face into the mattress and sliding back into you with one swift motion, a small hiss leaving his lips as he felt your walls tighten around him. 
Despite your vision still being actively blurred by tears you accidentally catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, to say the least - your sweaty body being abused from behind, the stream of liquids running down your thighs and the pathetic noises escaping your open mouth all still managed to make your cheeks heat up despite the state your mind had already been fucked into. But to the demon pounding into you you were still the prettiest sight he’d seen in ages - just the fact you’d let him - a demon - touch you at all was driving him crazy with lust, his mind even going as far as to imagining how much longer he could keep going if you were a demon too. With both of you getting closer to your highs he started getting more aggressive, bottoming out with every harsh thrust, leaving you moaning into the sheets while trying to hang on to your consciousness.
After pulling out Karaku lies down next to you while you both try to catch your breath.
"I think I need to shower again" you manage to get out while Karaku just stares at you, admiring the way he'd completely tired you out.
"Or we could keep going until the others come back" he says, flashing you a smirk and sticking out his tongue to show you his tattoo.
"Pleasure"
506 notes · View notes
odinsonslut · 1 year
Text
Young
⊹ genre: Fluff mostly, minimal angst
⊹ pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin female reader
⊹ themes: Friends to lovers
⊹ summary: Fred rejected your advances, claiming you’re too young. You set out to seduce him, which backfires. Unwarranted comments were made in your presence, and George attempted to comfort you, finally explaining his fears and feelings in the process.
⊹ warnings: Swearing, third-party slut-shaming of the reader, mentions of an emotionally toxic relationship, very brief mention of drugs.
⊹ word count: 1.7k
⊹ a/n:  I don’t know why I’ve chosen to base this whole fic off of rejection yet again, but It’s completely different to the last, trust. A cute Fred one today because I’ve had a recent fixation on the twins and can’t seem to write for anyone else atm. 
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Confidence has come naturally to you since the first day you walked through the castle doors. Many would wager that’s why you ended up in Slytherin over Hufflepuff. You’d never had issues letting people know how you felt about them; rejection had never been a concern or a fear simply because your self-assurance wasn’t so easily deteriorated. 
This wasn’t ever in question until two weeks ago. You hadn’t thought twice about approaching Fred after months of mutual teasing, or so you thought it was. You went to his spot on Gryffindor’s table in the morning, greeting him with a single pumpkin pasty. You waited till he took a bite out of it before making some quip that you couldn’t seem to, or rather didn’t want to remember, about owing you a kiss and maybe something more in return for it, to which he painfully, tragically mustered a chuckle past his lips, probably the most awkward position I’ve seen him in, before finally finding the words to let you down easily.
“You know I love you endlessly, but we’re friends” He could’ve just as easily stopped there, but he continued. 
“You’re just a little too young for me.”
Young
He briefly dated Amelia Farrow last spring, and she’s four months younger than you, so obviously, it wasn’t an age issue. He saw you as immature, a kid. He couldn’t even begin to picture you as attractive in any form. Actually, feeling affected as a result of rejection was unfamiliar; it was scary. How had you allowed yourself to feel enough for a man that your own stability suffered? As a result, you didn’t just feel hurt, you felt inferior, and that was harrowing enough in itself. 
You were just beginning to fall into another rant directing every expressional detail from the twitch of his bottom lip to the scrunch in his left brow when you were interrupted by a loud sigh.
“Babe, I couldn’t live a day without you, but swooning over a blood-traitor Weasley is way more than I can handle for the 7th time this morning”, Pansy quipped after a supportive kiss on my cheek.
“Give me a solution then”, you pleaded, faux pouting while hugging her thighs desperately.
“Seduce him, love; you’ve got the best ass on anyone in this entire school. Malfoy tells me he’s got a preference for it, says he lets a lot slip when they’re off smoking muggle grass.”
“Teach me how. You’re probably the only girl in our year every Slytherin male wants to shag a second time.”
-
It was the first quidditch match of the year, so naturally, you put on your uniform from 3rd year to cheer the team on. Malfoy found your overreaction to rejection amusing, like a fish out of water, to use his words, so he didn’t mind playing the role of the pawn in your game. You spent all game cheering Draco on, making sure you were just enthusiastic enough to attract Fred’s attention. 
The game finally came to an end. Gryffindor just barely scraped by, with Harry catching the snitch. I could already see Oliver Wood pushing Fred about, demanding a valid reason for his poor performance during the game. He pushed Wood off of him and stormed off with an exasperated look on his face.
I caught up to him a few feet away, deciding to skip past the jokes, figuring he wasn’t quite in the mood.
“Hey, you okay?” I timidly asked, reaching out to stroke his hand
“You sure move on quick, don’t you?” He spoke harshly, ignoring my question completely
“Are you serious? You reject me, then get mad at my attempts to move past that?” I shoved his shoulder, feigning annoyance. I knew exactly what I was doing, trying to prompt a reaction out of him.
“And what the hell are you wearing? Damn near sent Adrian Pucey spiralling into the benches with your ass out like that.”
“So I had both team’s beaters distracted, huh?”
“I wasn’t distracted so much as horrified.” He immediately followed
You shoved him playfully. “Shut up, weasel. You’re literally still staring at my tits.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t put that outfit on for me to stare at?” He whispered as we came to a halt just outside the quidditch changing rooms 
To my dismay, I couldn’t think of anything to do or say but scoff at him, to which his grin grew even bigger.
He turned to leave, my brain regaining activity without the pressure of his eyes in contact with mine.
“I put it on so you’d have a clearer image to jack off to tonight.”
I headed back to my dorm before he could get another word in.
-
I approached the great hall hand in hand with Daphne Greengrass, completely satisfied with the way I left things with Fred yesterday, convinced I’d won. The smile on my face immediately dropped as I heard the conversation taking place at the Gryffindor table.
“- he’s even got a Slytherin girl in his pocket, dressing up like a little slut just for him.”
“Tell me, Weasley, does she like it rough?”
“Seems like the kind of girl that’d take it in the back.”
Your heart dropped as you heard comments from miscellaneous men in the house, jeering over each other, collectively patting an angry-looking Fred on his back and shoulders in a congratulatory manner.  
We made eye contact. Before the men at his table sensed my presence, too, I broke away from Daphne and sprinted out of the Hall. I sank by a tree in front of the lake as I took shallow breaths.
What hurts is that every assumption they made about my character felt deserving. When did I become the girl so desperate for one man’s attention that I so pathetically made myself more sexually desirable in his eyes? So that his lust would cloud his judgement and throw me lay at the very least? I hadn’t even realised how delirious I was acting and how painfully obvious it was to everyone but me just how much more I clung to the idea of him. It was like a montage of clarity was playing in my brain, of the way I continued running up to the Gryffindor common room every morning, taking every opportunity to make what I thought was subtle physical contact with him. God.
I let out a little yelp when I finally opened my eyes. Fred sat right next to me, leaning his head against the tree the same way I was.
“God, you scared me half to death! fucking cunt” I muttered the last part, allowing my anger to peak through 
“I had Malfoy help me make sure those guys’ mouths stay shut. I’m sorry you had to hear that, and I’m sorry they were able to say more than two words without me hexing them and their mothers, to begin with. None of what any of them said is worth your care. They heard us talking outside the changing rooms yesterday. They’re all jealous little virgins that have-
“They were things I needed to hear” I cut him off before he fell into a rant that honestly wouldn’t have made a difference to the way I felt.
He looked at me incredulously, struggling to find the words to respond. 
“I was seeking your attention so incredibly desperately. It embarrasses me to think about it. You said no; I should’ve respected that and left it as it was. I took your reasoning personally, and for the way I’ve acted since that day, I apologise, truly,” I continued.
He sighed. “I only said what I said out of fear. I’m sure you remember I briefly dated a Hufflepuff girl in your year, Amelia. I made a mistake getting involved with her. She didn’t know how to separate love from attachment, and it got to a point her dependence on me started affecting her mental well-being, along with mine. Nobody saw much of me during the time we were dating because I was just so caught up with making sure she was okay since she relied on me completely. I didn’t realise  I was even allowed to have boundaries at all in a relationship. She constantly made me feel selfish and uncaring for wanting space or even just time with my family. When you told me how you felt about me, I had recovered from the relationship, but I hadn’t yet allowed myself to consider a future relationship with another person. I said what I thought I needed to say to avoid our relationship turning into the one I had with Amelia. But ever since you told me how you felt about me, it made me realise nothing about us has ever been platonic to me. I have never thought of you that way, and even when I tried to, I didn’t know how to look at you in any other way than lovingly. I feel so much for you. I could see myself loving you so easily. I’m just really afraid. I don’t know if I’m ready to navigate that all over again.”
It took me a while to respond, taking in everything he said in a state of such vulnerability. I noticed a stray tear on my skirt; it was his. I immediately reached out to hold his hands in comfort. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off yet again.
“I will never allow anyone to say a word against you ever again, love.” He added
“I care a lot about you, Fred. I reacted the way I did, with such force and conviction, because it’s unfamiliar to me too, feeling so deeply for someone. Whatever you want to come from this, we can do. I want to learn to keep my independence through my feelings for you. I don’t think declaring something more than friendship will change things between us overnight, and I think all we need to do is keep being us.” 
“Okay”, he responded timidly but surely.
He could’ve just stopped there, but I’d come to learn that’s never something to expect from him.
“I absolutely did jack off to you last night, though.”
I kicked him in the shin as we walked back to the castle, hand in hand. 
End
✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩
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bakerstreethound · 7 months
Text
Etched in Stone
Relationship: Benedict Bridgerton x afab!reader
Warnings: 18+ spicy times (MINORS DNI), flirting, fingering, mutual pining, childhood friends to best friends to lovers, exposed ankles, fluff, softness, gentle/possessive Benedict, brief mention of alcohol and slightly tipsy momma Violet Bridgerton makes an appearance
Summary: Bored at yet another party hosted at Bridgerton House, Benedict seeks solace (and a strong drink) in the quiet of Anthony's office only to find you there, one of his oldest friends and buried feeling resurface.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username) 
Word Count: 4.1k+
A/N: I wrote this fic for my lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic a while back but wanted to take my time posting it because this was such a joy to work on and wanted to savor every moment. El was there for the beginning of this story so it's only fair I dedicate it to them as well. Thank you for trusting me to write one of your beloved fictionals. I drew a lot of inspiration from both book and show Benedict. Any era inaccuracies are fault of my own as well as where Benedict's room is located in the house. Graphic by @firefly-graphics . Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!!
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His piercing gaze hadn’t left you all evening, making your shoulders rise on the verge of danger, but the way his gaze bore into yours, and you couldn’t deny the shallow thrill or the pulsing in your heart. 
You hadn't wanted to come to the ball and despite your family’s protests and prodding you found yourself at the Bridgetron ball, dressed in the prior season’s attire, not caring about the gossip. It wasn’t like you had anything to prove to the ton or Lady Whistledown. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought and you round a corner, sipping on your lemonade, weary and the night was still young. You longed to be reading one of the adventures in your novels, whisking you away to another place and time, holding hands with your beloved. 
******
Benedict sighed for the third consecutive time in a row, making Eloise roll her eyes. “Brother, surely you can find some enjoyment from this party.” 
“When I tell you, I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, watching the couples swirl along the dance floor, his eldest brother Anthony pulling Kate close in his arms, a bright smile lighting her face. Benedict tried to hide the disdain, the ache resounding in his chest. He’d rather be locked away in his room, working on his art, perfecting the curve of a hand, the slope of a shoulder, silk between thighs. He shook his head, groaning before tossing back a glass of lemonade he’d picked up during yet another turn around the room. 
It did little to cool his blood. 
When he made his way to the study, he half expected to see Colin there sneaking a glass of Anthony’s secret stash, however, he didn’t expect you draped across a chair, nose buried in a book, legs curled over the arms of the chair, exposing your ankles. The smirk crawled along his lips for a fraction, enraptured by your stone-cold expression and you flipped another page, not uttering a sound.  He poured himself a drink, trying not to chuckle, and watched you intently. 
“Do you intend to stare at me all evening, Mister Bridgerton? Or are you going to ask me to pull myself together to dance in front of the entirety of the ton?” 
The drink almost lodges itself in his throat as he choked it down, the bewildered expression on his face the cause of your pursed lips. For the love, you were laughing at him! 
“Cat got your tongue, Benedict?” 
Oh, it was more than the cat that got his tongue, he wanted to swallow yours, combat your wit, fill himself with your words and beauty tenfold. 
Good gracious, what had become him? 
Here you were and he’d been watching you like a hawk all evening barely making a move and your ankles were there, tempting him, tricking him, enticing him. How ready he was to fall, the hold you had on him was indescribable. He’d been this way since he first laid eyes on you all those months ago. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on you. But how he wanted to fall with you, drag you along the dance floor show you off for the world to see. No, he would do no such thing. 
He would enshrine you in a painting, etch you into stone, a carving upon his heart. 
Warmth flooded your body as you continued watching Benedict pace around the room and you doubted he realized he had done so. A bedraggled state was becoming of him, accentuated by his ruffled hair as he muttered under his breath, stopping to refill his glass with something stronger than lemonade. 
You smirk, perusing the pages of your novel, which sparked an idea. 
“Benedict?” 
Your voice, oh your voice was a guiding light, his anchor, steadying him through the whirlwind of a storm conjuring in his head. 
“Yes?” His gaze met yours, and he stopped pacing standing before you and giving you a good look at his chest, the rise and fall of his breaths, reminding you to steady yours. 
You crane your neck up, looking him in the eye. “Read to me.” It’s a simple request, but you hide the quivering of your lip. He leaned in closer, engulfing you in his scent, causing you to bite your cheek to keep from groaning. It was heady and intoxicating and it was all him. 
“What?” 
Focus, you ninny! You cursed softly to yourself gathering your thoughts as you clung to your novel. 
“I asked if you would read to me. Literature is the art of words is it not?” You shifted in your seat, your feet now resting flat on the floor as any respectable proper person would have done from the start. You let out a soft groan when the balls of your feet touch the floor, and he leaned down further, his index finger barely stroking along your jawline. Your ankles were definitely covered now, but you suspected his reaction didn’t stem from that. 
He cocked his head. “You would prefer me to read romance to you rather than show you firsthand?” 
“Why ever would I need to experience such things firsthand? I have everything I need here.” Your stomach fluttered, almost dropping when he kneeled before you, his fingers brushing along your sides before grasping your thighs and squeezing gently. 
“You do have one thing right for this evening. We have everything we need right here.” Another squeeze of your thigh sent your mind reeling. 
“Does one intend to enact upon such desires, Mister Bridgerton? Or does one who reads such novels suppress them?” 
His hands traveled further up your thighs a silent challenge, one you were not backing down from despite the pounding of your heart. You were here with Benedict Bridgerton alone in Anthony’s study, someone you had known for years, a constant fixture throughout your youth, the source of countless daydreams and now, rather passion-induced dreams. 
“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” He growled low in his chest and you forget to breathe. None of the books you read prepared you for reality, not that you would confess. Benedict didn’t need his ego poked any longer, the more he knew he could unravel you slowly. 
You squirmed against him, tugging his vest. “I’ve wanted you for years but denied myself. I didn’t - couldn’t- imagine you felt the same,” your voice came out as a whisper, a plea for him to see you and he did. Benedict saw you and gazed at you with hope and adoration. 
He growled low in your ear, sliding his hands around your waist, rising to his feet pulling you against him, the racing of his beating heart restarting yours. He was your desire, your soul ached for him, knowing he was the only one you could ever hope to give yourself to. 
No one else in the world was meant for you or could compare to him. 
His heart beating in tandem with yours, clinging to each other, a lifeline. It felt like a lifetime before clarity finally made its way into the world, making its intentions known between you. It was more than the slow-burning passion and affection blossoming between each other.
His lips brushing along yours sent your heart soaring, connecting your souls and you welcomed him, and you were home, he pulled you flush up against him, groaning softly, digging his hands into your waist. He couldn’t breathe, utterly weightless, intoxicated by your scent, everything. He was high on you, your touch, oh how lovely it felt your fingers digging into his back, melting against him, needing him as much as he did you. 
This was love. It was Benedict in a new form, one you awoke, taking him back home, a home he’d always known for you were there through it all. He wanted to give you everything you desired, everything you deserved. And you would receive the best in return. But not in his brother’s study on his favorite reading chair. 
“Anthony will kill us if we do anything here,” He pulled away in a moment of clarity, holding you close, your legs trembled, overcome with your passions. You ached for him dearly, more than you knew possible. 
“I’ve done worse, I assure you,” you snicked, gathering your bearings, brushing off your outfit, ruffling out the wrinkles as if that cleared off any evidence of Benedict having his hands over you wasn’t obvious. “I’ve defiled my mind with notions of unrealistic nonsense.”
He raised a brow, looking unamused, a flicker of amusement flashing before boisterous laughter, likely caused by Lady Featherington passing by the door and you inhaled sharply, the anticipation ticking by each moment. As soon as it came it went, hopefully, spurred on in good spirits. Lady Featherington surely didn’t have half the mind to break into Anthony’s study.
Benedict cracked open the door beckoning you over, taking your arm by the elbow, “Up the stairs, second door on the left. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.” 
You nodded, taking in his appearance, his disheveled hair, mused vest, and undershirt beneath. You would be lying to yourself if you denied the excitement of what lies beneath but the other side of you was equally terrified. 
******
Dashing up the stairs was easier said than done, the events of the evening causing your head to spin in a mixture of wonder, anxiety, and borderline delirium. You were sure you were dreaming but the stairs beneath your feet are solid, beckoning you up to the elegant quarters where the Bridgertons slept. You glided your hand along the banister admiring the railing, willing yourself not to fall, raucous laughter closing in, dangerously close by from the sound fluttering through the halls.
Perhaps Lady Featherington sought to uncover your dalliance after all. That would be the talk of the ton, however, you knew the Bridgertons could afford some slander from Lady Whistledown, but fortunately, all she commented on was the growing size of the family, the lovely grandchildren Vicountess Bridgerton had the pleasure of seeing when Daphne and Simon returned to town. 
You silently cursed your attire and its restricted movement when you made it to the landing, stopping for the briefest moment to catch your breath. You didn't bother asking if his younger siblings were asleep, but he didn’t seem to care at that moment, the way his eyes glanced along your body, and the smile along his lips was far too distracting anyway. 
Your minds were busy with other thoughts, the taste of his lips still freshly imprinted into your memory. You did everything as he instructed, the door to his room groaning on its hinges making your heart race, but you peeked out the door to be certain.
No maids padded down the corridor, the only sign of life was the music and laughter intermingling for what you could imagine would be all hours of the night. The Bridgertons could throw a grand party, no doubt about it. 
Benedict's quarters greeted you with the scent of him, masculine and comforting. It felt like home, the furniture dark and handsome, the shelves lined with countless books, figurines along his desk not to mention his infamous sketchbook lying on his desk in the corner by the fireplace. Charred pieces of crumbled paper jutted out from the embers. 
Curiously, you reached out for it turning to a page. It didn't take you long to figure out the odd figures as you pieced each frame together, a culmination of finished pieces, sketches, and half-started attempts, frustrated pen strokes deft in their quest to uncover the beauty ready to bloom. 
Hands. Intertwined, graceful elegant, smooth lines, hardened ridges, callouses palms, delicately resting ones. Upon further inspection, you noticed the tried and failed attempts at an all too familiar pair of hands. It was odd to look at how he depicted yours, strong, yet graceful, adept at anything you put your mind to between needlework, horseback riding, the leather a fine feel in your hands.
You had to admit some were quite good while some lacked depth and luster. Practice made it worth it in the end, some of the figures he drew resembled a striking resemblance to his family, almost as if he were imitating the artist of the figurines, which when you looked longer were small likenesses of his mother, father, and siblings. The sight warmed your heart. 
"Benedict! You're missing the partyyy!" A shrill giggle outside the hall pulled you from your exploration, your heart racing in tandem. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Gregory and Hyacinth. From your previous encounters, you knew they were sharp, keen-eyed, and inquisitive about a multitude of subjects on top of their general mischievousness. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to ask any questions, but where the hell was Benedict?
Despite yourself you began pacing, desperately trying to avoid glancing at the bed draped in fine sheets, a fine rich deep velvety blue coverlet gracing it giving the piece a regal appearance. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself between the downy softness of it all and fall into blissful dreams, and yet, there are other pressing matters to attend to. 
The giggling resumed and you sighed, thinking better of yourself, not wanting this to be a joke.
You found yourself opening the door, greeted with the voice of none other than Violet Bridgerton whispering, on the verge of a quiet yell to her second song, grasping onto his elbow at the lower landing of the stairs. “Benedict! Good heavens, you’re to retire so earlyyyy???” 
He rolled his eyes half in amusement and exasperation. “Mother, I have matters to attend to, plus the other mothers merely want to hunt me for sport and pair them with their retched daughters.” 
His eyes flashed, glancing up, his gaze boring into yours, flooding your body with warmth. He quirked a brow, challenging you while his mother rambled drunkenly along, still grasping his elbow while he shifted his weight on his feet. 
Shut the door, he mouthed to you, causing your lips to quirk in the barest hint of a smile. 
“Quite right, you have a fair point. But there was that one lovely person you danced with twice back in the orangery perhaps…” 
At that exact moment, you opened the door further to grant yourself a better view of Benedict’s struggle and also partly in retaliation to his protests, only for the grand door to let out a massive agonizing wail. The giggle left you of your own volition at Benedict’s bewildered expression rendering you completely helpless as Violet looked up at you, the same Bridgerton eyes, older, wiser and so kind smiled at you, albeit borderline tipsy. 
“I see now I see. That’s the pressing matter you have to attend to. Don’t mess it up dear boy,” she slewed, chuckling to herself, before whispering in his ear, his face flushing in response. Violet released his arm, winking up at you before traipsing down the stairs, leaving a flustered Benedict behind to collect his thoughts before he came back to his senses, scurrying up the stairs while you slipped back into his room, posting yourself right in front of the door, keeping it cracked just so. When he arrived you only catch a glimpse of his eyes flashing before the door sealed you completely from his sight. 
Silence greeted you and you feared you might have ignited his wrath, alas you merely wanted to tease him.
The seconds tick by then three knocks follow. 
Were you going to answer him? Oh, he was going to make you pay for this with many kisses. He huffed before composing himself. 
You still didn’t answer. 
“Don’t play with me, dear unless you wish for them all to hear us when we should be dancing.” When he knocked for the second time, you decided to open the door, the scowl imprinted on his face illuminating a side of him you desperately wanted to see. You did this to him. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and immediately pressed you against the wall, a scowl forming along his lips. 
“You wouldn’t dare flash me before the eligible men of the ton tonight if you had to.” You whispered, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. “I belong to you, Benedict. Even if I am an old maid.” Your heart thundered in your chest. You were home, you belonged to no one else, nowhere else but here in Benedict's loving arms. 
“I am yours, oh love I’m yours.” His voice cracked, overcome with realization and the emotion of it all, his scowl replaced by pursed lips, wandering hands, lavishing your body in the simplest yet heat-induced touches and you wanted - craved - more. More of him. Benedict. Your Benedict. 
“Benedict, Benedict…Benedict,” Your was all you can muster with the meeting of his lips upon yours, feeling the depths of him, pulling to you crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were a sailor lost at sea who made it to the safety of the harbor and oh, it was blissful beyond anything beyond your wildest dreams. 
“Say it again,” he pleaded, each kiss awakening desires long suppressed, ones you hadn't acknowledged since they only came about throughout the course of your friendship with Benedict. Only he could put you under his unique spell, craving his lips, the brush of his hand against yours and here you are getting more than you dreamed. 
“Benedict,” You sighed blissfully as he kissed you once more, kisses languidly savoring the feel of you as he guided you up onto the bed, the coverlet as luxurious as you surmised. You’ve not come close to feeling something so heavenly as this and Benedict, oh, he was more than you ever dreamed. The novels you’d read didn’t hold a flame to each sensation buzzing through your body, the magnetizing gaze of his upon yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You wanted to take your time, alas it was getting harder to resist. Benedict was one thing if not impossible, but he was yours, irrevocably so.
A fire in the fireplace crackled to life, startling you for a moment, while Benedict caressed your jaw, memorizing every inch, and you selfishly wonder if he'll draw your portrait one day, trying to capture the first moment he had you to himself in his chambers. He moves his exploration from your jaw to your shoulder, then your hands, leaving kisses where he can, murmuring sweet nothings, soft praises that have your knees weak and you wanting him all the more.
“Your hands are lovely, nothing can compare to me holding them,” he whispered, caressing them softly, continuing to place kisses of adoration along them while you gazed at his soft loving eyes. “I cannot capture their beauty, their essence onto the page. I’ve tried and failed for months.” 
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done a fine job, Benedict. Your art is beautiful, never lose that passion inside you, it’s ethereal strong, spellbinding, and magnetic.” 
“As are you. You’re everywhere in my waking hour, in my dreams and sleepless nights. You’re my muse. You inspire me.” His voice wavered, a tear sliding down his cheek. Every bit of him belonged to you, there was no question, no doubt about it. 
Without another word, you tug on his vest, a beautiful shade of the signature Bridgerton blue, his shirt embellished with small bees. Everything looked wonderful when it was on him, but you wanted more, to lose yourself to him countless times throughout the night. 
“You’re pretty much the only reason I get out of bed most mornings,” You swallowed as he turned to face you, his hands cupping your face. 
“My love, oh my love,” he kisses you softly, in equal parts awe and reverence intertwined, making you forget where you are, the time and place. It’s you and him safe in each other’s embrace. His kisses trailed from your hands up to your neck, nipping softly, eliciting soft groans from you and you returned them in kind, his fingers stroking along your back, pulling you closer in his embrace. 
You brushed away another tear from his cheek, one falling from your eye as well and he wiped it away, kissing you gently before wrapping around behind you, desperation, adoration, awe, and passion guiding him. His lips connected with your neck, and you sighed in satisfaction, his hands wandering down your torso, lighting you up on the inside and you groan leaning back into him, leaving your mind to wander while you savored his touches. 
“Good, you’re not thinking, that’s right. Much better see?” His hand wandered lower, down stroking you just so, warmth blooming through your body. He relished your moans, biting into your neck as he watched the effect he has on you, wishing he could have done this to you earlier all the wasted time you have to make up for now. 
You urged him on through desperate kisses as you pull clothes from your bodies, every inch of him visible to you, eagerness and passion alike driving you both. 
“Keep going, please.” The last of your clothing fell to the floor and he pulled you back onto the bed while assuring him you have all the time in the world. “I want you, Benedict, always have, always will.”
He needed nothing more but your constant assurance, his fingers dipping into you, gliding along your body making you fall into his ministrations, your breathing ragged as you fell into bliss, his fingers replaced with his tongue sending you soaring into another place another time and it felt so irrevocably right, your fingers digging into his mass of curls encouraging him along, more than eager to assist your release. And when you were spent, his lips met yours hunger and desire battling, intertwined as you tasted yourself on his lips. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, however, in the midst of it all you found yourself asking a question as you kissed him once more, this time slower, unrushed. 
"What did your mother say to have you flustered as you are?" You batted your eyes, casting an impish smile, a look you know he couldn't resist. He hummed, his free hand stroking your side, his voice low in your ear. "My dearest mother told me to treat you well and that we best enjoy ourselves a little bit before our union. Told us to enjoy ourselves."
“Her intuition is uncanny, I never want to be on her bad side.” You huffed as Benedict groaned, pulling you in for yet another kiss, trailing down your body, making you squirm, not listening in the slightest, for he was far too distracted, focused on you before him. He would never tire of the sight, thanking his lucky stars. 
Finally, after years of yearning and pining when you’re joined, it’s a bliss, unlike anything you’ve known. You stifled a moan at the feeling, Benedict brushing a stray hair from your eyes, trapping you against him. “Love, I want to hear you, alright? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes widened at the request but when he moves against you, pleasure filling every fiber of your body you cry his name to the heavens.
Oh, how he loved it the soft whimpers, you begging for more and your name sounding just as sweet and sinful falling from his parted lips, swollen from your nipping and kissing. You want the moment to last for oblivion yet when you both lose yourself to your bliss, delirium hits and you pulled him closer in your arms, his face resting in the crook of your neck, the bed and sheets in disarray. You smirked to yourself more than pleased with the outcome. 
He continued to kiss your neck, nuzzling more, your hands stroking his curls. “I love you, Benedict.” 
“I love you more, my love.”
“I’ll love you forever.” 
“How about eternity?” He intertwines your hand with his own, kissing your ring finger. “Will you marry me?” 
 Your heart thrummed erratically but warmed at his loving gaze full of joy, hope, and wonder. It was a face you wanted to wake up with a kiss and love for all your days. 
“Yes, Benedict, a thousand times yes.” 
The smile that shot across his face kickstarted your heart and he kissed you for the thousandth time of the evening, not that you were complaining. For you have an eternity to kiss, love, and be loved by him. You settled against his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring, his hands settling on your belly soft and warm, while you drift off to sleep of bliss thinking only of Benedict and what the future holds.
******
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madnessr · 10 months
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Last Night Part Two
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Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader
Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?
Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.
Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity 
Part One
Word Count: 10k
There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!
Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!
If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla. 
You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin. 
Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now? 
You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you. 
You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position? 
How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real. 
You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize. 
Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another. 
You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat. 
The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity. 
You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.  
But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home. 
Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?
Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest. 
So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to. 
You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick. 
However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home. 
You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean. 
The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone. 
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"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you. 
"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic. 
"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.
 None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.  
Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places. 
Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him. 
“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone. 
Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you. 
David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds. 
"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair. 
"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again. 
All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial. 
"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well? 
Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut. 
David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him. 
"Who?" 
"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that. 
"Who did this to you?" 
The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them." 
That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling. 
You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways. 
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"Are they still sleeping?" 
An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!" 
A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking. 
"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial. 
David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud. 
Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression. 
For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse. 
Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny. 
Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously. 
David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal. 
"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy. 
Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight. 
Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you." 
Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over." 
The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound. 
As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 
It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down. 
"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal." 
You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber. 
Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others. 
Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan. 
Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it. 
When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed. 
You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors. 
"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion. 
"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby." 
"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two. 
The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it." 
You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you. 
"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow. 
"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood." 
As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress. 
"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you. 
"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do. 
But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed. 
Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains. 
You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed. 
"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you. 
Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone. 
"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises. 
"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood. 
"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes. 
"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David." 
You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you. 
"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it. 
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"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious. 
As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin. 
You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust. 
In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge. 
You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you. 
"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.
 "Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets. 
"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.
"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished. 
"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you. 
Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down. 
As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.
They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well. 
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No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.
The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose. 
The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!" 
Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry. 
The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in. 
"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?" 
"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now." 
The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?" 
You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue. 
"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them." 
You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours. 
"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire." 
He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore." 
His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord." 
Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair. 
"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical. 
The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow. 
"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls. 
He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement. 
As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed. 
Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you. 
"So what will you do?" 
"What I need too." 
His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again. 
"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong. 
"What I was born to do." 
His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake. 
Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight. 
That blow was meant to kill you. 
"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls. 
"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.
The boys. 
David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you. 
"You will never—be one of God's—creations." 
Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves. 
The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours. 
You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you. 
You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood. 
Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close. 
"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night. 
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That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer. 
That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge. 
"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk. 
"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange. 
"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant. 
"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too." 
You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.  
"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead. 
"What?" 
He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest. 
"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you. 
"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you? 
"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth. 
"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves? 
"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you. 
"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past. 
"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N." 
"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man. 
"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why? 
"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?" 
"We aren't animals, David–"
"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before. 
"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too." 
A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.
"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing. 
"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."
"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore." 
He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you. 
"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more. 
When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse. 
"Hey, Darlin!"
The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you. 
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Thunk! (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)
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I watched Top Gun: Maverick. Need I say more for the motivation to write this short little fic? If I continued this short little fic, would be people be interested in reading it? Let me know! Otherwise, pour in some requests for me. I’ve got the rare motivation to actually write. 
Summary: You’re dying from the heat of the sun, but some are worth the burning feeling. One of them is Bradley Bradshaw. 
In other words: You’re hot and sweaty, but so is Bradshaw and it may just be the thing to make you go haywire. That and the football he accidentally hit your head with. 
Fluff(?)
Words: 1.1k
Part 2
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The heat was sweltering and that was putting it mildly.
“Beer?”
You look up from your book as a cold bottle touches your cheek making you flinch a little. Way too eager to get any sort of salve, you take the bottle quickly almost spilling it. “Don’t mind if I freaking do.”
Penny, your aunt Penny that is, slides onto the bench chair in front of you, a similar drink in her own hands. Taking a small swig of her beer, she nods at the paperback in your hands. “How is it?”
You shrug as you take your own slow sip. “Decent.”
A small but all-knowing grin slowly etches itself on her lips. “Hm, okay.” Her tone sardonic. It makes you want to wipe the expression off her stupidly pretty face, but you hold off on saying anything else. Anything, and you mean anything is ammo for teasing when it comes to this woman and she’s been going strong for the past couple of weeks.
“Spend the next couple of months with Penny.” Your mother had almost ordered you to do. Fresh out of university in the standard 4-year period time-frame. You weren’t one to take breaks, never have been. Throwing your body into lectures, your student life flew by and before you knew it, that part of your life was over.
No parties, no hangouts, just you, your copy of Pride and Prejudice, and your cat Judy.
In a brief, terrible miscalculation of saying your thoughts out loud in front of your mother, she then pushed you into taking a couple months off from looking for a “forever job” and booked you a plane ticket straight to this beach instead.
And that leaves you here. 2 weeks later from flying in an airplane by yourself for the first time.
Almost hurling the contents of your stomach in the process.
You were definitely not looking forward to going home.
You both fall into comfortable silence for a small while until you pick up your beer bottle and put it to your sweaty, otherwise blotchy cheek once more. Not missing a beat, Penny comments on it immediately. “You know, the bar has a multitude of problems, but the AC is not one of them.” She places her elbows on the table and rests her chin on one of her palms. “ I know you get hot easily kiddo, why don’t you read inside?”
Tapping the bottle, you instantly avoid the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Uh- just,-“ shit. You thought. This woman was good, too damn good at getting under your skin. “Just wanted some fresh air?”
Why’d you fucking question yourself?
“This the same girl who hates hiking, biking, running, and otherwise any other activity that ends with “ing” that happens outdoors?”
“I don’t hate them, I’m just not very good at them.” You defended, eyes still averting all over the place.
Another swig of beer as she raises her eyebrows. “Riiiight,” she elongates her speech, making it sound as sarcastic as possible. She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before another, much huskier voice screams at the both of you.
“Heads up!”
Oh boy you thought. Here we go again.
The football slams against your head, hard enough that an audible thunk! rang in your ears. Your shoulders tense and letting out an “ow” you palm against your skull to rub at the site of impact.
Penny puts the teasing on hold and immediately scans you over for any injuries. “Oh shit, are you okay?” She asks, voice dipped in worry.
You manage to say “All good.” With a small grimace, eyes still squinted.
“Hey, are you okay? I’m really sorry about that.”
It was like alarm bells rang in your head. That voice you thought. God, it was pathetic it affected you that much.
Completely forgetting about the aching for a brief while, you turn your head to the new figure beside you and sweet mother Mary, you almost regret it on the spot.
You come face to bare-chest with Bradley fucking Bradshaw.
You quickly avert your eyes once more. You’d been doing that a lot today and it was kind of getting tiring if you were being honest with yourself. Just getting attacked on all fronts you supposed.
It’s like he covered himself in baby oil or something.
There’s a hitch in your breathing that you really hope Penny doesn’t notice. “I’m uh- I’m fine-“you stutter “I’m just- I’m good.”
Nice. Great job.
“You sure?” He asks, moving his head to try and catch your gaze. “Is there any way I can say sorry or make it up to you?”
Honestly, just stand there and look pretty.
“No, I’m good, it’s no problem.”
The man was not taking that as an answer. “Look, I think we’re about done anyways, and getting a couple of drinks after getting changed- That is to say Penny’s open tonight.” He directs his question to your aunt with a hopeful smile and she just nods her head with that sly glint. “Can I repay you with some drinks?”
You weren’t a drinker and it was for good reason. Just as you were about to tell him not to worry about it once more, your aunt beat you to a reply. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it Bradshaw.” She answered for you. “As long as you don’t cheap out on her drinks.”
He just let out a scoff and rolled his eyes in amusement. “Pen, I know I can be an asshole, but I don’t think I’m that much of an asshole.”
You finally meet his gaze and he lifts the corners of his lips into another apologetic smile. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at 9 tonight.” This man is putting his full sincerity into his apology and you’re only hearing words buzz. Half of the reason being your head was still kind of aching and the other half because his sweat-slicked abs were still on full display in front of you. “Sorry again, about that.”
Not being able to come up with any other intelligible reply, you simply purse your lips and nod.
Bradshaw finally leaves your vicinity and it feels like you can breathe again. You let out a sigh and blow a piece of your hair away from your face. You notice Penny’s signature smirk and your mouth turns into a flat shape. “You knew didn’t you?”
“Anybody would know in 2 seconds.” She shrugs . “Also, your paperback’s been upside down the whole time you’ve been out here.”
You groan, slamming your already injured head onto the table in hopes that it would just knock you out cold. “He’s just stupidly hot.”
“And I just got that stupidly hot guy to buy you drinks so I deserve a thank you.” She states proudly as she finishes her beer. “Now go home, get changed, consume alcohol, and live a little.”
You hear her rise up from the bench in front of you, probably getting ready to handle her rowdy bar for the night. Before she leaves, you can’t help but make a small jab of your own. “Yeah, well take your own advice and screw Mitchell already.”
“I already have, and I’m not planning to again” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Yet.”
“Ewww.”
“Hey, you serve snarky, you get snarky.”
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saiiidahyunee · 4 months
Text
these moments are everything with you
kim dahyun x reader 
synopsis: you thought you’d be better off alone, until you met her.
warnings: very very very small angst ; mostly fluff 
wc: 4.2k 
a/n: @gayforminatozaki @miinatozakiii i was perplexed with the lack of dahyun drabbles in your reblogs so don't mind me i'm just here to fulfill my quota in the dahyun works department (and also becuase she's my ult bias so i just had to write something for her cuz it would be a crime if i didn't)
had this one sitting the google drive for a couple days now so i thought now would be a good time to post this before i focus on finals for the next week and a half. :/
꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱🎧。°✩⭑: moments by michah edwards (this pushed the fic inspo a lot this song is so cute >.<)
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there was only one word to describe you: average. 
anyone that was friends with you or in your family knew that you weren’t the most outgoing person to be around. you didn’t talk much only when it mattered in the conversation and your friends still accepted you for being that way. taking pride in being introverted while also willing to do whatever they asked was a strength in itself. 
once everyone went their separate ways for college, your small band of five friends were worried about how you’d handle the dorm experience. 
“how much do you wanna bet y/n will be friends with the instructors before any of the students?” 
“y/n’s a bookworm already as it is so i wouldn’t be surprised that the library or dorm will be the go-to spot.” 
you knew that jihyo and jeongyeon meant well and shrugged their comments off when they helped you move into your dorm the first year. in fact, you used the criticism as motivation as you were the top of your class, eventually rubbing it in their face when jeongyeon had to retake a chem class over the summer during your guys’ second year. as for bambam, junho, and ryujin, the other three friends in the group, they couldn't help but laugh at jeong’s blunder as you sat across from her with a sly smirk on your face. 
fast forward a year later and it’s finals week before the summer break. everyone is in a rush, the library was packed, cafes were having a field day, and you couldn’t wait to hear the infamous “midnight screams.” all throughout the week in your dorm. your main math building had several classrooms but you managed to find an open one that wasn’t occupied. you opened the door and scanned the dark room for anything out of the ordinary; sighing in relief, you stepped in the empty classroom and got to work. 
you scrounged up three desks together to make a mock table for your stuff as you got to work on the giant blackboard behind you. about forty-five minutes into your study session, you scribbled an equation on the board with a sturdy piece of chalk. you turn your head to the right side as you see the door open and see a girl with wavy raven colored hair with glasses, making eye contact with you stopping in her tracks. 
“oh shoot, i thought this room was empty.” she started saying, “this was my usual place to study since the library gets overpacked.” you stood there as she briefly apologized and started to turn around. it only took a split second, but you made a choice that would change everything, not even your friends back home would believe this if you said it the first time. you set the chalk down on the board and wiped your hands off with the remnants of it, coughing slightly because of the dust from your hands. 
“you don’t have to leave! i don’t mind if you study here too.” you called out to her, scratching the back of your head and sharply inhaling through your teeth, hoping that she’d take up on your offer. 
the girl stopped her movements when your voice reached her and turned back to you, pondering on your offer. she had a judgment call to make: either look for another room to study in or study with you, making a new friend in the process. thirty seconds had passed and with a blank expression on her face, she walked into the class, setting all of her study materials next to yours on the desk. once she got herself situated, she walked up to you, sticking her hand out. 
“i’m kim dahyun.” the girl said smiling, finally putting her name to the face. 
“it’s nice to meet you dahyun, i’m y/n.” you said, returning the same smile. 
usually you weren’t the kind of person to be flustered when meeting a girl for the first time, but there was something about dahyun that made your head spin and your heart go up an’ over. you shook her hand and held onto hers for a little longer than you should’ve before letting go.  
in a moment’s hesitation, you then picked the small piece of chalk up again, returning to the equation that you started earlier while also saving yourself from the embarrassment you gave yourself. finishing up the equation you step back to the desk island behind you, peering over to see the answer key in the textbook making an audible “tsk” sound with your lips, erasing the portion of your answer you messed up on. 
“shit, it wasn’t this.” you muttered to yourself as dahyun stepped up next to you. “are you in physics 460 too?” she asked, picking up another piece of chalk, scribbling the same equation in the blank blackboard next to you. you stood there in a slight awe as she elegantly finished up the problem, boxing up her answer under the work she just did. 
stepping back to admire her seamless work, you glanced at the board and the textbook to double check. your eyes shot slightly open than usual only to realize that her answer was correct. 
“whoa, h-how did you know exactly?” you stuttered. really? at a time like this? this didn’t happen before, so what the hell is going on with you?
dahyun shrugged her shoulders at you, smiling. “i took the class last semester. i assume it’s professor hyejin since she’s a really good teacher and all the students try to get in her class.” she said, “not an easy class, but she knows the material inside and out.” 
you just simply nodded at her explanation and leaned against the desk island, crossing your arms together impressed at her sharp intelligence. “i tried enrolling for her class at the beginning of the semester, but i got professor heechul instead. he’s an ass. doesn’t even grade things properly and acts like a kid when things don't go his way.” you huffed out with a sigh only to be thrown off with dahyun’s sudden burst of laughter. as she was laughing, you look down and smiled at yourself noticing her really cute laugh. 
“i’m actually a TA for professor heechul right now, so i can see where you’re coming from.” dahyun shook her head in agreement and smiled, walking to her bag to get her own textbook and started reviewing on her own classes. the room filled up with silence that wasn’t surprisingly awkward silence, but instead, it was something else. 
to be fair to yourself, your friends were right about you with everything that they predicted. you were well acquainted with the professors and you basically lived in the library from time to time. now that you’ve met dahyun, the little fire of hope in proving them wrong by being her friend lit a little more brightly. 
the blackboard was overrun with problems and equations left and right. you took a chair to sit down in small five minute breaks as you turned your head to see the clock at the back of the classroom, realizing that it’s been about two and a half hours. any more time spent here would have burnt your brain out with the workload you just did. over to your right side, dahyun continued to work. three textbooks were spread out on the desk island, her laptop was out, and she was triple checking her work on the blackboard as well. you were intrigued with the amount of energy she still had, seeing she was working double time compared to you. 
dahyun looked over to you, and you didn’t realize that you’d been staring for way longer than you should’ve. in a quick movement, your head shot straight down and cracked your neck before grabbing a textbook right after, not even catching the fact that it had been upside down. dahyun observed your last action and softly giggled at your surprisingly funny antic. 
four days had passed since then, you and dahyun were in the same room at the same time again. you pondered on how weird it was for her schedule to be in line with yours. were you gonna ask her about it? no. are you complaining? also no. in that short amount of time, you and her got to know each other better, accustomed to seeing her more and more often. 
“hey dahyun?” you asked with a sense of boldness today. dahyun turned around from the right triangle she drew on the board and looked at you with a smile. she always looked towards you with a sense of admiration, you didn’t think anything of it but it felt nice to have her look that way since it felt good. it was a nice change of pace to have a study partner, a really smart one too. 
“i was wondering if you’d want to grab a drink with me after finals? not a drink as in alcohol, but coffee?” you looked at her, trying to resist the sudden heat that was plastered over your face. you had some sort of idea why dahyun made you feel this way as if your body was going through an acupuncture treatment, but you could handle it. 
a smile stretched across dahyun’s face as she lightly bounced on the balls of her feet, heels touching the ground before lifting off again, excited at your offer.
“i’d love to!”
you simply nodded and smiled back at her while in your heart was doing backflips. “so it’s on me then?” you jokingly asked as she nodded at you again before you two went back to studying. the thought of this was just going to be a one time thing would be diminished at the revelation that you can tell your friends back home that you studied with someone for the week. 
finals week of your junior year came and went; not that anyone cared or saw coming, that “one time thing” coffee run turned into a second run, then a third, and then a fourth being an actual date. soon after that first date rolled a couple more dates and the rest didn’t need any further explanation. flash forward  ahead one year following a graduation ceremony later, you and dahyun would be moving in together at your new studio apartment. the discussion about it went smoothly before graduation since you had managed to convince dahyun that you had more space compared to her shared apartment with her friends. a big plus was that your landlord was more fond of dahyun than the previous one that she was with at the time. 
moving in wasn’t a simple task to tackle, the transition for dahyun was easier since you were the one doing all the heavy lifting for her. the boxes she had was a trove of items curated throughout her entire lifetime in addition to the pictures she took of various moments. the two small boxes you were carrying this time were just towers of picture frames with photos with a story to tell. 
one notable thing that you learned about dahyun early on in your relationship was how she loved taking pictures. whether said pictures would be on her phone, your 90s film camera, her polaroid, and just recently an old digicam that you found when you visited your parents back in spring break. dahyun would have at least one camera on hand whenever you two went out, taking pictures of friends, animals, cute architecture, or anything that she found aesthetically pleasing. some of those pictures were of you as well. 
rummaging through one of the boxes she brought over, a picture catches your eye. it was the third date which was a picnic and you were wondering what the clicking sound was at the time. dahyun had brought a polaroid camera and refused to show you the picture, claiming that it was for something later, even though she took twelve more later during the date. the memory flashed through your head as you held the picture in your hand smiling. dahyun scooched over to you placing her head on your arm while you picked up another picture that was you with headphones in and holding a vinyl of one of elton john’s songs. despite the fact how corny it was, you were glad that she kept that one.
click! 
“baby…” you groaned, turning around to see dahyun holding a camera behind you. tilting your head at dahyun as she looked at you with innocent eyes, slowly strolling over to you. 
“what? i can’t take pictures of my lover who looks insanely attractive hanging pictures up?” dahyun asked as she tiptoed to give you peck on the lips, lightly blushing at her sign of affection. 
“sure, you find my sexually appealing hanging a picture on the wall wearing sweatpants and a cream shirt with a soy sauce stain on it.” you said shaking your head, turning your focus to the picture that was slanted on the wall. bad pictures aside, you took pride in the ones that you took of dahyun. one being an amusement park date with her getting off one of the rides and the other one of her at the aquarium for your six months. now, both of these are on the wall in the living room. 
dahyun tiptoed a bit to adjust the picture on the wall before backing up, proud of her achievement. “ah, perfect.” 
“taking pride in your curation?”
“you’re annoying.” she replied back, rolling her eyes and smacked your arm, not even registering the teasing remark. “i was referring to the picture frame hanging on the wall now.”  
you smiled and kissed her temple, slotting your right arm on her waist. “i know. i was just messing with you. the pictures are always nice when you take them.” you looked at her noticing the slight color of pink on her cheeks. dahyun turned towards you, trying to cover her face as you grabbed the polaroid camera from her hands to take a quick pic, capturing the adorable look on her face. 
“hey! you’re so meannn. i don’t look good right now!” dahyun whined as she jumped up to grab the polaroid that was printed out, your hand straight up in the air, laughing at her desperate attempt . after she calmed down, you handed the camera back to her in your left hand, your right hand still clasping the photo. 
“if you’re gonna take a picture of me hanging pictures, i should be able to take a picture of you blushing a bit. it’s a fair trade no?” you claimed as you scrunch your nose at her, eyeing the picture that is now fully developed. you gasped with your mouth agape, enjoying dahyun’s distressed expression. 
“what? do i look ugly?” she asks.
you shook your head in response and turned the picture around, keeping the distance so she couldn’t grab it. “you look adorable in this, i could kiss you.” 
dahyun looked at you blankly, with a small glint in her eyes. “well, why don’t you then?.” she asks, pursing her lips together and leaning in. 
you smirked at her offer, gently placing your lips on hers. your hands having minds of their own finding their place on her cheek and waist as she pulled on your shirt, bringing you closer. a tender, loving kiss you and her shared until a smile creeps through dahyun’s lips as she snatched the picture away from your hands. 
“come on dahyun! you can’t use kissing to your advantage like that.” you complained as she stood there with a smug smile. 
“i can and i just did.” she triumphantly said, shrugging her shoulders as she still had the picture in her right hand. you slowly stepped closer to her, noticing what you were intending to do, this prompted dahyun to run across the apartment for a few seconds. a chase that only lasted two minutes and ended up with you two exhausted on the couch. the objective of getting the photo off of her was completely forgotten as she ran her fingers through your hair with you feeling her heartbeat on her chest. 
you shift over to lay down with dahyun as she held up the picture, putting her other arm around your head to get more comfortable. “i love when you take pictures. i really do, even if it’s the embarrassing ones you usually capture.” you said as you felt dahyun turn her head towards you, her lips giving a soft kiss to your cheek. 
“i know you do, but let me keep this one at least.” dahyun laid back down, adjusting herself to be on top of you and sighing happily. even though both of you were about to drift off to sleep, you knew what she said was genuine. the statement being that she loved you, how she appreciated you noticing the small minute things, and how you adored anything and everything about her. 
three years on and pushing to four, in the regular nine to five weekday routine with occasional outings on the weekends, it was easy to get lost in the neverending cycle of labor. the apartment was a lot more lively now with ari, dahyun’s dog now running around the place, things around here were now more filled with love. 
after a painstaking friday shift, you finally made it home first, discarding your shoes and placing your bag on the chair next to the kitchen island, sluggishly walking to the couch and flopping down. nothing was planned for the weekend and you intended to stay at home, without the thought of work running through your mind. you didn’t hate your job all that much, on the contrary, you enjoyed what you were doing with the marketing job despite the unhealthy hours at times. each day brought on a new task to encounter. 
as you melt away on the couch and your eyes become drowsy, you hear the door click open. on nights like this you were accustomed to the daily routine of getting home first and then hearing dahyun come in saying that she’s home, following your pathway to the couch, opening your arms for her to come to your embrace; though it was different this time as you heard a slight shuffle of shoes being taken off followed by her small backpack. 
dahyun then sauntered over to the couch and gently laid down on top of you, burying her head in your chest facing down. you adjust your arms eventually wrapping them around her back, patting it as you looked down to the top of her head. a slight concern stirred in your head since you noticed that something was out of the ordinary with her. out of respect for her state, you hugged her more closely as you muttered an “i love you “ lowly and stroked her hair after while she adjusted one more time before not moving again. 
most nights were always lively with good vibes, but you also liked how there was not much to be said, just simple actions carried so much weight with how much you and dahyun loved each other. as you and her just stayed quietly with the dim light coming from the kitchen and the quiet motor of the humidifier filling up the silence. ahri also did say hi to you and dahyun, but went back to his bed playing with one of his chew toys. 
as you felt the urge to sleep more and more, you felt dahyun’s soft breaths in a steady rhythm. you smiled at her head before you tried to close your eyes, only to be interrupted then. 
the small body laying on top of you stirred for a bit with a few sniffles being picked up by your ears. your eyes opened up slightly wider and propped your body a little bit upward, met with a teary-eyed dahyun. the sight of her shattered your heart as you pulled her closer to you, tears and sniffles soaking the right shoulder of your shirt. you let her collect herself after a few minutes through crying before you ask anything.
“honey what’s wrong?” you kissed her forehead and fixed the few strands of hair behind her left ear, rubbing her cheek that was stained with tears. 
“it’s- i was- i just…” she was struggling to say whatever she had on her mind as you shushed her, hugging her again and rubbing her back in small circles, something that she really liked you doing when comforting her. 
“it’s okay, whatever it is i’ll listen.” you firmly said to her as she wiped her face. “i had a really bad day at work today. my boss kept adding on to what i was working on and i- i was so worried that i wouldn’t be able to finish it all.” you stared at her as she explained what was happening at her work. “i was able to but- i didn’t want to fail and with all the stress i…” she covered her face as she felt more tears about to break through. 
you tilt your head, faintly sympathizing with what dahyun had to go through as you hugged her for the third time in the span of five minutes. knowing that it’s very rare that dahyun rants to you over something that stresses her, since most of the time it’s always happy and lighthearted. before she could jumble more of her words trying to get her point through, you silenced her with a quick peck that shifted to a subtle loving kiss to ease her train of thought. 
pulling back and gazing into her inviting black eyes you rubbed her cheek again, “i’m proud of you working through what your boss asked you to do. it’s all in the past now and you have me.” you bombard dahyun with kisses again all over her face, drawing her a soft giggle in appreciation of your task. stopping for a moment to look at you again, she simply nodded as her sign of thank you and kissed you again. 
“you’re the best y/n.” she softly says to you, “you know what to do and say to make me feel better and i’m thankful for that.” you tilt your head at her compliment as she shifts over to kiss your cheek before leaning back onto the couch sitting upright, rubbing her forearm in comfort.
“anything that i do should always make my girlfriend feel good. but since you’re not better yet, what do you want me to help with? i can cook us something for dinner or do you want me to stay with you longer?” 
it shouldn’t be seen as an anomaly for you to be more gentle and devoting to dahyun. now if you didn’t act like this at all with her, that was a huge problem in itself. dahyun had managed to bring that side out that neither yourself or your friends would ever think that you’d have in the first place. while you did have that guarded demeanor, she also made you more protective of her feelings. it didn’t take that long for you to learn every detail and quirk that dahyun would show through her expressions. you knew exactly when she’s happy or mad; even the times she would cover up that sadness with a fake smile that she perfected. 
“h-how do you expect me to feel fine if you say things like that?” she utters, “every time you do that my heart melts and i ca-” catching herself sniffling again, lightly punching your chest. you laughed at her statement, hugging her once again. 
“i have something to show you.” you say, eying the coffee table centerpiece that had various items in it. in between the remotes you fished out a note, “i want you to read this. as a reminder of how i see myself to you.” handing the note to dahyun and watching her unfold it. the small sounds of the paper crumpling in the dimly lit apartment is all that is heard as dahyun begins to read the note you wrote from a while back when she was fast asleep and you were finishing up a late night project. 
it took her about forty-five seconds to look at the short note that you written but once she finished reading it, she looked at you in awe. no tears were seen in her eyes as she closed the little space between you two in a loving hug. dahyun didn’t say anything nor did she ever have to with these tender moments with you as she pulled away, gazing into your eyes before giving you another long kiss and snuggled back into your chest. you picked the note away from her hand, holding it up high to look back on what you wrote,
dahyun, 
you have done wonders for me when i first met you. i would never have thought of the limitless possibilities of things that i could accomplish alone if it weren’t for you being a part of my life. i thought that i could be content with just existing without making any true connections to anyone that i already knew. but all of that changed when you came along. i’ve said this multiple times to you but i’ll say this once again, thank you for everything. for showing me the beautiful world through your eyes, for being the keeper of my love and memories. for being the one change i will never regret making back when we were in school and i will always love you with everything in my heart. 
love, y/n
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reverieblondie · 4 months
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Neighbors
Chapter 1: Spider-Catcher
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Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: None for this chapter ;) but be warned this series will be SMUTTY!
Summary: Moving to a new city could be challenging for anyone. Your new home is taking a lot of getting used too. Maybe you can make a friend, preferably someone who is okay with catching spiders...
A/N: Okay...I know this isn't Miguel content...but we are just going to pretend it's 2014 so I can have my moment with tasm!peter. This story was originally for Peter B. but then I watched The amazing Spider-Man and emotions took over. This will be a series I will be writing so please look for updates. Also I have a Miguel series in my drafts and a small dark fic for him. Plus I am also working on Gabriel O'Hara fic as well so hope you will keep your eyes out for those. Please comment if you want to be on my tagging list! And request are open!
Word Count: 1,787
Part 2 Part 3
Chapter 1: Spider-catcher 
“Hey on your left!” 
A man on a bike rushes past you while you are walking. Hands filled with overflowing grocery bags, you had not seen that you had wandered into the bike lane. Jumping out of the way you narrowly avoid getting mowed down by the angry cyclist. 
“Mororon!” the man yells back at you
“I'm sorry!” escapes your lips as you shout out to the man who is long zipped by “dick…” you mudder under your breath. Sure you were in the wrong lane but you didn’t see your mistake so he shouldn’t have been so angry with you. 
You sigh, taking a mental note: watch out for New York bike riders…stay out of their lane
The short walk from the store ends when you reach your new apartment building, well, new to you. The complex itself was ancient in a bit of a sketchy area but the rent was cheap for New York, so you would not rethink your dwelling too much, though sometimes it was hard to stay optimistic. 
When you first moved into the apartment it was…depressing…It had bare walls with some cracks, the smell of smoke completely taking over the place, and decked out with some ancient appliances you were grateful at least worked. The last three days had been spent moving in your furniture, getting a job, and scrubbing down every wall in your apartment to rid of any suspicious grime. Now with your apartment decorated and you living there for the past few days, you felt like you were finally adjusting to the residence. 
You hope that once you get your groceries in and have your first home-cooked meal in the place it will definitely feel like home. Being new to living on your own and new to the city everything was taking some…adjusting. Call it cliche but you had always dreamed of moving to New York ever since you were a little girl, so when you got the chance to move up here for school you were eager to jump at the opportunity. Who wouldn’t want to move to the city where dreams are supposed to come true right? 
Now that you're living it however it was not the tale of living up your dreams like you had envisioned as a child. In your dreams, you expected to live in a large lavish apartment, unlike the more than modest one you were currently in. You would have tons of friends and go out every day, your going out consists of you going to pick up take-out and as for friends, you didn’t know anyone. 
Classes didn’t start for a few days and you started work tomorrow, hopefully, some friendship opportunities will present themselves soon. Another childish thought you had in your mind was, that you would be friends with everyone at your complex, but with the way people seemed less than friendly towards you, that thought was seeming to fade more and more. Just need to stay positive, you haven't even been here a week, don’t let it get you down, was the mantra you just kept repeating in your head.   
Pushing through the front door of the complex, you make a beeline for the elevator. There is no way you are going to be carrying all your groceries up the stairs where you live on the 12th floor, no way that is happening! Getting into the elevator after making the journey from the store to your apartment; you're thankful that the cramped elevator is empty so early in the morning.
Living on the 12th floor had its perks but also had its cons, especially when you had a slow elevator. It takes a creaking and shaking eternity to get to your floor; you're sure your ice cream must be starting to melt by now. Finally hearing the ding you get off and walk across your floor. As you set your groceries down, digging for your keys in your purse, slight movement catches your eyes forcing you to look up towards your door. 
Right on your door above the knob was the biggest spider you had ever seen. Spiders and you had never been best friends, in no way did you want to kill one, you just thought that it was best they lived their lives away from you and your home. Looking at the spider it seems harmless, it’s not like it seems poisonous or life-threatening. Maybe you can just scare it? Shoo it away? It's huge but maybe it will get scared and run off your door. Just be tough, it's just a spider…a huge spider…with creepy eight legs…and fangs…staring at you….
Shuddering at the thought of the spider you can feel yourself developing arachnophobia by the second. Getting a grip on yourself, you push down the bubbling fear and motion your hand like you're waving the spider off.  Your whole body teases hoping it won't run anywhere near you or worse jump on you. It’s just a dumb spider, what could it really do to you? 
Little did you know that this spider was no punk, this spider must have seen a thing or two because instead of being normal and running off it, hissed and you swear it jumped towards you! 
The sudden movement of the spider makes you recoil with a startled scream. Now would you usually jump like this? No, but this spider was out for blood you could see it in his evil eight eyes!  
As you're moving back in panic, the door across from yours flies open with a guy around your age coming out of it looking alarmed. The sudden appearance startled you causing you to jump away from him, landing your back on the door you were just screaming at. The fluffy-haired guy looks at you with wide eyes not understanding at all what is happening. 
Opening your mouth to apologize and give an explanation you turn and see the spider close to your face, The sudden proximity makes you scream again which in turn makes the neighbor scream. 
Jumping from your door you grab onto the stranger and hide behind his back using him as a human shield from the spider, “Get it! Get it! Get it!” is all you can manage as you cling to his shirt. His hands are raised in surprise as you paw at his back, keeping your eyes on the spider. His eyes are on you with that same look of confusion on his face as to why some random person is screaming and now clinging to him. 
“What are you talking about?” He asks in a confused tone and a hint of frustration. 
Looking up at him, pointing to your door you're an incoherent mess, “H-h-huge spider!” 
“Huge spider…” He repeats before he looks at your door and sees the spider, in your eyes it’s an aggressive beast, to his eyes it's a common spider seen around the building all the time. 
Understanding the situation he sighs and you take it as a sign to let go of the person you don’t even know. Watching as he shakes his head and goes back into his apartment you feel your heart sink that you won’t be getting help for your spider problem. Approaching your door you look around trying to figure out a plan, but suddenly a hand is tapping your shoulder. Turning around, you see he has reappeared with a paper and an empty Chinese take-out box nudging you to move out of the way. 
Standing back you watch as he effortlessly places the box over the spider and then slides the paper under it. As you're watching him trap the creature you start to really take in his appearance. Looking at his outfit you see a worn-out T-shirt (crumpled in the back thanks to your grabbing) and plaid sleep pants, brunet hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush all morning. Now that you're looking at him closely, you can admire his athletic build with some great arms and large hands….damn…plus that face, though he looks completely exhausted he's still…kinda cute. 
Once the spider is caught he closes the box and turns to you, quickly you adjust your gaze from his hands back to his face. Though when you look up at him with a smile you are only met with a look of annoyance, alright seems peeved. Wanting to lighten up the situation and thank him you go to say thank you but he just walks past you with a grumble. 
“Dramatic…”. 
Dramatic! The word echoes in your head leaving you slack-jawed as you watch him leave down the hall to the elevator disappearing inside. How can he call you dramatic, that thing was ferocious and sure you screamed and cowered but you're not dramatic! Plus he doesn't even know you. In a huff you finally get your keys and unlock your door, turning your head towards the elevator then to the door across from yours you roll your eyes. 
Putting away your groceries you're still thinking about your grumbling neighbor, so much for you thanking him for his help. If he wants to call you dramatic you would be dramatic and not thank him. So much for the possibility of having the spider-catching neighbor as a friend. 
As you're putting away your stuff your frustration must hit a peak because you decide it's time for you to give him a piece of your mind. Nobody just insults you like nothing! Who knows maybe he would respect you for it. Going over to your door you open it and see him about to enter his apartment turning his head to look at you with an unimpressed gaze. 
Stepping out, you fold your arms before speaking, “Excuse me, but what gives you the right to think it’s okay to call me dramatic?”
Turning to face you he mirrors your stance “Oh, you heard that? I mean you were the one screaming over a spider.” 
“A huge and scary spider” 
Peter holds his hands up in mock defense, “You know you're right, I barely made it out with my life.” he says in a voice dripping in sarcasm. - great he's a smartass… 
“Whatever, thanks a lot, next time I will handle it on my own.” 
“Just make sure to keep the noise down next time.” 
Rolling your eyes you shoot him a dirty look as you start closing the door, 
“Just wait till you see the cockroaches…” he mutters
Your motion comes to a quick halt “What?!” 
“Nothing~” 
With that last remark, he shuts the door leaving you with your thoughts of all the other creepy critters this place could be littered with. He’s messing with you, right? 
Right?!
Part 2 Part 3
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imjustasimpxd · 8 months
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My Angel (Part Two)
➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader
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Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist
Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?
Word count : around 5, 200 words
Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.
Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊
Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.
Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
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❗️Important Note❗️
There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))
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“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.
“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.
“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.
What was Falco really up to?
Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.
Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.
But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.
With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.
Well, at least, not anymore.
He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.
In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.
So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?
It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.
So who on earth was he being forced to see?
“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.
From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.
The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?
Was this a trap he was walking into?
Should he leave?
Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.
If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.
Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.
Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.
Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.
However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.
“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.
“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”
Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?
Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?
The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.
He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.
“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.
Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.
“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”
That voice. Reiner knew that voice.
It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.
It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…
All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.
“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.
The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.
“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.
However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.
All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.
You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.
And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?
“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”
However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.
He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.
Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.
Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.
“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.
Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”
Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”
Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.
“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.
The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.
You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.
Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.
Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.
“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.
It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.
You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.
So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.
“Can you take off the hood?”
Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?
“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.
“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.
Nevertheless, you were persistent.
“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.
“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”
You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.
He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?
It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.
Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.
As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.
It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.
Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.
Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.
It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.
That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.
Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.
Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.
Who was this woman?
If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.
Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?
No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.
Was this… the product of his own making?
Was this… what he’d turned you into?
As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.
“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.
“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”
Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.
“Which friend?”
“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.
To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.
The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.
“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.
“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.
Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.
Nevertheless, even in doing so, whichever words you mustered up the courage to throw at him would still never amount to the pain he had caused you, or the amount of regret he held in his heart for that action itself.
“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”
Was that true?
If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?
Why he had to leave?
“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”
It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.
“Nothing you say will change what happened.”
He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.
“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”
A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.
“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.
“Why did you betray us?”
Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.
“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”
“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.
Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.
Did that mean he really was the villain?
In your eyes, maybe.
Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.
“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”
Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.
How did things end up like this?
He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.
And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.
“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.
“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.
He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.
It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.
You didn’t understand it, even now.
Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?
How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?
What changed? Was it something you did?
Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.
“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.
Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”
“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.
It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.
But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.
Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.
“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”
Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.
Did he just hear that right?
A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?
As if you could ever be such a thing.
Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.
There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.
But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.
You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.
He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.
Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.
Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.
Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.
Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.
It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.
Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.
Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.
“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”
Was that even a question?
Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.
But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?
Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?
What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?
Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.
Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.
All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?
Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?
Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?
You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.
Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?
“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”
Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.
“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”
He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.
Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?
He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.
If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.
He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.
Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.
Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.
“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”
“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.
So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.
However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,
“Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.
“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.
“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.
He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.
He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.
He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.
Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.
That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.
“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”
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Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist
(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).
Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams
This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.
Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊
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7-wonders · 5 months
Text
It's Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus!
Summary: It's Halloweekend, and you've got a couple of parties to attend! Morpheus, who missed out on the development of Halloween into the holiday it is today, is very curious about what your plans are.
Word count: 1.8k
And now, a note from the author: Ahhh Claire actually managed to write something! I loved coming up with and writing this; I was giggling the entire time. As always, if you enjoyed, likes, comments, and reblogs (but especially the last two!) make my world go round. If you didn't like it, also let me know! I'm always down to hear constructive feedback/criticism—it's how we become better writers.
Though reader is wearing a skirt, the gender of reader is not specified! If you're non-binary or a guy and you wouldn't mind dressing up in a skirt for a group costume, I hope you enjoy this fic too!
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It’s not often that Dream of the Endless visits you in your realm, instead of vice versa. While he had met you in the Waking, he had never been entirely comfortable there. That feeling, that wrongness, only increased tenfold after his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. No, Morpheus is not overly fond of the Waking.
Tonight, however, he’s here, and you have a pretty good inkling as to why. 
Though Morpheus would never admit it, hearing you talk helps to calm him down when he’s feeling stressed (another thing he would never admit to: stress). After a frustrating day of holding court—one of his least favorite things to do, but one that was integral to the functioning of his realm—you decided that telling him about your plans for the week would be a bland enough topic where he would not have to actually listen to your words, but simply your voice. Your plan seemed to be working; you could feel his body relaxing in your arms, and you had never been more relieved to hear the absentminded hums of someone who was only half-listening to a conversation.
At some point, you mentioned that you were excited about the Halloween parties that you would be attending. That got his attention, drawing him out of the reverie that your voice and your fingers carding through his hair had lulled him into. He shifted in your hold, his black pools of stars looking up at you curiously.
“All Hallows’ Eve is not for another week though, yes?” he asked.
“Yeah, but it’s during the week this year, which means everybody celebrates the weekend before.”
“Why not celebrate on the day itself? Traditionally, Samhain is a very important holiday.”
Now the miscommunication made sense in your mind. It was only natural that he still thought of the holiday as what it was before 1916. “Oh! Halloween has evolved a lot, especially in the past hundred years. It doesn’t really resemble the Samhain of old.”
He still looks a little confused but nods. “How interesting. So you will also be participating in these…festivities early?”
“Festivities” was a good way to put it, and you decided to just leave it at that. How the hell else were you supposed to explain to your eons-old, all-powerful boyfriend that the Halloween of today is about wearing a fun/sexy costume, doing spooky activities like haunted houses or watching scary movies, and partying?
“Yep!” you said. “I have plans with friends; we’re going to wear our costumes and go celebrate with others.”
“What will your costume be?”
“I’m not quite sure yet. I have a couple of different ones, so I’ll probably decide the day of.”
That interest in modern Halloween, specifically how you celebrate Halloween, is why you’re not really all that surprised when you hear him call your name from the other side of the bathroom door while you’re taking a shower.
“In here, my love!” You just barely have to raise your voice, knowing that he’ll still hear you above the sound of water raining down. The bathroom door opens, and you stick your head out of the shower curtain. You very happily accept the kiss that he offers you. “Hi.”
“Hello.” His voice, deep and as smooth as dark chocolate, rumbles through your ears in a way that you’ll never tire of. It’s impossible to resist giving him one more kiss (can you be blamed?), so you give in to the temptation.
“Give me five minutes and then I’ll be done, okay?”
Though it’s very reluctant, he does part from you. It takes you a little less than that to finish with your shower, and you open the door again so that you can at least be in the same space as Morpheus while you hurriedly put some makeup on (thankfully your costume doesn’t require anything drastic beyond what you normally wear). He’s sitting patiently on your bed, eyes already trained on you as you move through your getting-ready routine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You almost never visit me in the Waking.” 
You’re teasing him, since, as previously mentioned, you know exactly why he’s here. Naturally, Morpheus doesn’t catch on. “I wished to see you off before your Hallowe’en celebration.”
“That’s sweet of you!” To the bedroom you go, where your costume sits waiting atop your dresser. “I’m just about ready to go, I only need to finish putting my costume on.” 
Morpheus’s face grows flushed at the easy compliment you give him (you don’t think he’s ever been called ‘sweet’) and you laugh quietly before disappearing back through the bathroom with costume in tow.
A couple of months ago, two of your friends decided that being the Powerpuff Girls was the move for this Halloween and roped you into the idea. One of your friends, a natural blonde, claimed Bubbles before the idea could even fully be discussed. Your other friend was very excited to be a bearded Blossom and wear a giant bow on his head. This left Buttercup for you to dress up as, not that you were complaining.
Now, you’re sliding into a green crop top and a matching green skirt, this piece being made out of a shiny material. All three of your skirts are the same fabric (and definitely shorter than what’s considered decent), with the shirts being dealer’s choice. You finish your outfit off with black tights and a black headband—Bubbles is also wearing black tights, while Blossom will be sporting black knee-highs. All in all, it’s a pretty simple costume, but sometimes, that’s what the best costumes are.
You emerge from the bathroom once more and do a little twirl for Morpheus, whose eyes immediately light up. “This is very much a pop culture reference, so I’m not expecting you to understand the costume. Still, I think it turned out pretty good!”
Morpheus is not a man—the anthropomorphic personification of the collective unconscious, the Lord of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, simply chooses this as his favored form. Still, he is a man-shaped being, and like all man-shaped beings, he goes a little wild for the object of his affection in a short skirt.
“You will be wearing this in public?” he asks, standing up and approaching you.
Morpheus has lived for as long as beings have been able to dream. He quite literally lived through the Beginning when Adam and Eve didn’t know what clothes were, as well as a number of empires for whom clothing was merely a suggestion. The affront he’s showing at the clothes you’re wearing must be some sort of code for “this is my partner wearing something I consider sexy and I’m feeling possessive about other people seeing them.” That he looks at you as though you’re wearing the barest scraps of clothing and not dressing up as a cartoon superhero has you feeling mighty powerful.
You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on a little bit.
“This is tame compared to what a lot of other people wear,” you inform him.
Morpheus does not look as though he’s listening. No, he’s focused on your body rather than your words. One hand rests on your waist to pull you closer to him, and the other hand comes to rest on your upper thigh where the skirt ends. He rubs the skirt between his thumb and index finger as though he’s testing the fabric. 
“Am I correct in assuming that costumes are no longer worn to disguise the wearer from errant spirits?”
“Yes, you’re correct.” Right now though, explaining the traditions of Halloween is not important to you. You need some validation, and stat. “But do you like it?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Thank you,” you say smugly, smacking his hand as he tries to slip it higher under your skirt. “Not tonight. I have to meet up with the gang soon!”
“Might I make a suggestion?” 
You nod. No matter how outlandish the suggestion, you’d listen to him make it, and you’d probably take it into strong consideration.
Morpheus places a delicate kiss on your jaw before he trails his lips to your ear. “Forget about your friends and stay with me for the evening,” he whispers seductively.
Oh, but that is tempting. You can already imagine the way in which Morpheus would remove your costume, the feeling of his hands on your body as he makes you forget about anything outside of you and him and the pleasure you bring each other. From the darkened look he gives you, he’s already picked up on these daydreams, and he’s in total agreement of that order of events. 
Unfortunately, your brain, that traitorous organ, reminds you of why you shouldn’t be absconding to the Dreaming with your lover.
You sigh in frustration at the logic and lean your forehead against his. “I would, but I’ve had these plans for a couple of weeks now, and I really am looking forward to them.”
Though it very obviously pains Morpheus to say it, he does agree. “Yes, I suppose it would be…rude to abandon them.”
“I should probably go,” you say begrudgingly, pulling away from him and focusing intently on gathering what you’ll need so that you don’t give in to your desire.
Morpheus watches as you whirl around the room, muttering the name of each item as you grab them. Your phone is annoyingly elusive, and you think you’ll just have to go without it until it’s dangled in front of you by your Dreamlord. Gratefully, you take it from him.
“Thank you,” you say sheepishly. That’s the last of your belongings, but you feel like you can stall just a bit longer. He’s heard about your plans, but you haven’t heard of his. “What will you do while I’m gone?”
“Wait for you to return to my embrace once more,” he teases.
“Please try to do something instead of moping the whole time.”
“I do not mope!”
You give him a look, one that says you see right through this charade. “Yes. You do. I’m sure there’s a new book you’ll want to read. Maybe ask Lucienne what she’s been working on, or start creating a new nightmare?”
“Are you not going to be late?” Morpheus deflects. It makes you laugh, but he is right, so you do a once-over of your room to make sure you’re not missing anything and kiss him briefly.
“Bye. I love you.”
“I love you as well, my starlight. You remember how to call for me should you run into trouble?” Of course you do: write down his name and speak it. It’s cute of him to act like he won’t try to have Matthew follow you, though.
You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture. “Yes, I remember. I’ll be fine, okay?”
He nods, satisfied. “I shall see you later, then.”
You’re able to sneak in one more kiss before he’s off and you’re heading to your front door, already counting down the hours until your night of partying is over. Who knew dressing up like a Powerpuff Girl could get someone so hot and heavy?
If Morpheus thinks that’s attractive, just wait until he sees the angel costume you’re wearing tomorrow.
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joelmillers-whore · 6 months
Text
Couldn't Help It
summary: getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either. 
word count: 2.4K 
series or one-shot 
warnings: no warnings for this one. just some sweet ol’ fluff for you all today. some mild swearing i guess, frankie morales x f!reader
A/N: this is my first frankie fic so please be nice lol. not that y’all wouldn’t be. this is just a very short fic to start off with, i promise i’ll write some smut for him next time. enjoy and don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, and leave a like.
tags: @hellishjoel @ilovepedro
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You’d felt it the night before, the burning and the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You tried to ignore it, tried to will the start of your illness away. You had popped every godforsaken pill out there and took enough sleeping medicine to knock out a small elephant, determined to head it off at the pass. 
Nothing seemed to help you and now you were confined to your bed, fighting against a pounding headache and racking up a killer fever. You could have probably pushed through the ailments, continued on like nothing was wrong and completed your thesis as normal. 
But pushing yourself to your limit time and time again, staying up until the early hours and only nabbing a couple of hours of sleep was surely the main reason why you were sick now. It was your body's way of telling you to slow down. 
For months, you had been running on fumes, trying to get to the end of the tunnel after so many years of rigorous schooling. You’d never needed a break, or never wanted to stop and take one, and now you were being forced to. 
Although now, school seemed like a distant thought, actually, every thought seemed distant, like they were just on the outskirts of your mind, clouded in a sickness-induced fog that you couldn’t seem to wade through, no matter how hard you tried. 
Every limb felt heavy as you attempted to maneuver around your apartment, you felt weak and tired and on some level, even vulnerable. You couldn’t function normally, you couldn’t even do something as normal as drink water. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill common cold, you’d thought. This had to be the thing that wiped out the dinosaurs. 
You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get comfortable, your body aching and your ears ringing. You had to periodically swallow, on account of the build-up of pressure in your ears, which was proving to be annoying. 
Sweat clung to every surface, feeling unbearable as you become either too hot or too cold, casting your blanket off of yourself and then pulling it back over you a minute later, your body succumbing to a full body chill. 
Your lids dropped closed, the call of sleep loud enough now that you couldn’t ignore it. Sleep seemed like a good idea, a great idea even, and you let yourself slip under with little resistance. 
You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, it could have been minutes, it could have been days, but all you knew was that you were feeling somewhat better. You were still a far cry from being a hundred percent, but it was something. 
It was still difficult to swallow, and your throat was still scratchy and dry, but now, your head wasn’t pounding and your body temperature was starting to regulate itself. You were coasting along with your high fever, a daze settling over you as you stripped off your layers, trying to cool down. 
Still feeling groggy from sleep, you hadn’t heard the door at first, but your ears perked up when it got louder, your body jolting up in bed at the incessant pounding coming from your front door. You groaned, wondering who it could be. 
You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and you sure as hell were going to be pissed if it was your creepy neighbour again, wanting to ask you out for the millionth time. Sliding out from the warmth of your covers, you really, really didn’t want to see anyone right now, not when you probably looked like something that crawled out of a sewer. 
Hoisting yourself up from the bed on wobbly legs, you padded out of your bedroom, crossed the apartment, and pulled open your door. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head, surprised to see who had been on the other side of your door. It was Frankie, your boyfriend. 
Frankie had been to your apartment before, but only briefly and you had thought that he had forgotten your address entirely. It wasn’t as if he was an unwelcome sight, quite the opposite actually. He stood straight, tall, and he towered over you. His unkempt curls peeked out from underneath his signature baseball cap and a weak smirk was present on his face. 
His arms were crossed but his aura was anything but unpleasant. His light green button-up was stretched tight across his chest and bulging arm muscles, pulling the material so snuggly that you thought it would rip and if you were feeling better, you would have liked to see that happen. You still wanted to, if you were honest with yourself. 
Frankie’s coffee-brown eyes were blown, a tick of worry flooding them as he looked at you— only you. Your heart hammered in your throat, an air of restlessness settling over you at the realization that Frankie was worried about you, for some reason. 
You hadn’t been dating each other long, it had only been about four months, but the way that Frankie always seemed to look at you, with adoration and a soft protectiveness, similar to how he was looking at you now, made your stomach erupt with an incomparable amount of flutters. 
You leaned your head against the frame of the door, eying Frankie as he analyzed you, and studied you like you were his favourite book. It should have unnerved you, the intensity of it, but the idea of him being so concerned with your well-being calmed you. 
“Hi”, you said, your voice coming out raspier than you were expecting. 
Frankie inched forward subtly, his hand mindlessly drifting to your hip, “Hey”, he paused. His eyes flicked down the length of you, those bushy brows creasing, “Are you okay?”. 
Your lips tipped up at the sides, pulling into a light smile. All you could do was hum your reply, suddenly overcome with tiredness again. 
“I was worried ‘bout you. Haven’t heard from you in two days”, Frankie muttered, trying to hide how worried he actually was about you. But at this point, even if your current state, you could pick up on his different cadences. 
Your eyebrows knitted together, “Has it really been two days?”. 
Time almost seemed to stand still when you were sick, the concept foreign to you when you couldn’t even think straight. 
He nods, his pupils blown and fixated on you. “What’s going on?”. 
You chewed on your lower lip, tugging at the sensitive skin harshly as you debated your next words. It was a simple enough question and it deserved a clear, simple answer. But for some reason, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out. 
This was the first time that Frankie had seen you like this— had seen you as this frail and feeble version of yourself, and you didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t who you were and it wasn’t who you wanted to be thought of as. Someone who needed to be helped and someone who always needed saving, and you definitely didn’t want Frankie to see you that way. 
So instead of giving him the direct answer, you opted for, “Nothing, ‘m fine”. 
Frankie scanned your face, his face twitching imperceptibly, like he didn’t believe you at all. 
“You’re not”, he tightened his grip on your hip, “You don’t look fine”.  
You forced a chuckle from your throat, thinking that the garbled noise was close enough to pass as a laugh, “Thanks...”. 
He sighed, shuffling his cap on his head nervously, “That’s not what I meant... I just meant, you don’t look like yourself”. 
His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running across your cheekbone softly, lovingly. Your eyes flitted closed at his touch, soaking in the feeling and almost moaning from how good it felt. But you held yourself back. 
It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue holding yourself up, your weakened strength waning the longer you stood. You needed to sit down, or rather lie down, but with Frankie there, you couldn’t exactly escape to your bed without admitting to him that something was wrong with you. 
Pushing yourself off of the door, you shuffled to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a small groan. Frankie wordlessly closed your door, following you deeper into your apartment. He stood above you, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his already tussled curls. 
The action was more mesmerizing than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself licking your dry lips. 
Frankie smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the lamp that was next to you. His deft fingers raised to your chin, tipping your head up so that your eyes met his, “You’re not feeling well, hm?”. 
You shook your head, still adamant about remaining strong, “Told you, I’m fine”. 
Frankie’s face fell, those gleaming eyes losing their shine, “Don’t lie to me. I thought we didn’t do that with each other”. 
Your gut soured at the thought. It was true, you never wanted to lie to Frankie and still keeping him at arm’s length was killing you. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, not consciously anyway. A string of shitty ex-boyfriends who had left their mark on you made you weary of trusting anyone you were seeing. 
But Frankie wasn’t like any of them, he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met actually. He was kind and he was the best man you’d ever known. He didn’t force you into situations that made you uncomfortable, or manipulate you emotionally just because he could. 
And he didn’t deserve to be shut out. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a stabilizing breath. “This is humiliating”, you mumbled. 
Frankie’s lips twitched, his fingers still holding onto your chin, “Why?”. 
“Because...”, you sighed, avoiding his eyes, “I just... I’m not used to needing anyone”, you paused, trying to get out what you were thinking without stumbling over your words, “It’s just been me for a long time, and I’ve always been able to take care of myself”. 
Your eyes flitted back to Frankie’s, your face heating with embarrassment at your confession. You thought you’d see anger or hurt in his eyes, but he was still smiling down on you, only faint amusement on his face. 
“Well, get used to it because you’re not alone anymore. So, let me take care of you. Because I want to”. 
Your breath came out shaky, only now realizing that those were the exact words that you needed to hear. Emotion bubbled in your chest, constricting your throat and rendering you speechless. 
You simply nodded, while Frankie’s fingers slipped from your chin and he grabbed your hand instead, helping you to your feet and leading you back to your bedroom. Even though you had only been awake for a short while, your mind and body were already exhausted, and by the look on Frankie’s face, he knew it. 
He lifted the covers over your body, leaning over and kissing your temple, humming sweetly as he pulled back. He turned, heading out of your bedroom, when you took hold of his hand, stopping him. 
“Will you stay?”, you asked, meely. The feeling of needing someone so much scared you, but the look of pure giddiness on Frankie’s face overtook that unsure weight on your chest and replaced it with something infinitely lighter. 
He nodded, “‘Course, just wanted to get a wet cloth, might help bring down your fever”. 
Frankie’s hand drifted to your forehead, the back of it laying flatly against your skin, cooling it down significantly already. You let your eyes drift closed, nodding absentmindedly as Frankie’s hand stayed where it was for a little longer. 
“Be right back”, he whispered, leaving your side temporarily. 
You’d fallen back asleep sometime after he left, dazed sleep taking over you. Your eyes only cracked open slightly when you felt your mattress dip and a cold sensation on your forehead. You tried to mumble something, but it came out jumbled. 
Frankie smoothed back your hair, stroking your head rhythmically as he spoke, “Shhh, just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”. 
His presence and the feeling of his subtle touch against your clammy skin were enough to lull you back to sleep. There was something inside of you that had always yearned for this, for the closeness outside of sex. The intimacy of a relationship. Frankie wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of you, and he cared for you in a way that your past boyfriends hadn’t, that much was clear. 
Your heart clenched in its cavity when you felt Frankie lower himself onto the bed, behind you, and scooted closer so that his front was flush with your back. His arms wrapped around you, his face nestled into the crook between your neck and shoulder. 
He peppered scratchy kisses along your exposed skin, his trimmed facial hair tickling your exposed skin. 
“You didn’t have to stay”, you mumbled. Only now recognizing that you had been asleep for the whole night, the sunlight cascading in and bathing the whole room with light. 
“Couldn’t help it, I needed to make sure that you were okay”. 
You turned your body around in Frankie’s grip, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes meeting his inky irises. The light bounced on one side of his face, lightening up his features and highlighting the most memorable parts of him. 
Like his slightly crooked nose that you loved to dot with kisses, his smile lines that you couldn’t help but trace with your index finger. Or his loose brown curls that you loved to run your hand through and tug on roughly when he kissed you. 
Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently. You leaned in, planting a small kiss onto his lips. He smiled against you, deepening it and slowly devouring you. 
You pulled back, “Thank you”. 
Frankie dragged you closer to him by your waist, pulling you into his atmosphere. You felt safe and comfortable lying in his arms, embracing the quiet moment between you two. Maybe it was comfort you were feeling but maybe it was something deeper, something you had been afraid to admit until now. 
You were falling in love with Frankie Morales, you were sure of that now. And you didn’t think you’d be able to stop it, not that you really wanted to. But that was a confession for another time, right now you were falling asleep in his strong hold, content and intent to keep yourself close to him for as long as he’d let you.
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frownyalfred · 2 months
Note
I noticed the ask you got about Jason, Dick, and the passing on of the Robin mantle, and how you said you imagine the nicer version is how things went down in your fics. That made me think about borderline and how close Dick and Jason end up in it, and THAT made me think about how to me Jason feels like the kind of person where if you have his love and loyalty and can keep it, you have it forever.
All this rambling is to say that I headcanon that Dick being kind to Jason back then is why Jason cares so much about Dick in borderline, besides all of the usual family and mind bond stuff. Dick is such a good big brother that all his little brothers are ride or die for him, haha
Yes!! Thank you so much for bringing this up! I get so many questions and comments about Dick and Jason’s relationship in borderline — and tbh it was one of my favorites to write.
So much of their initial instinct to band together and support Bruce and the bond is predicated upon them being good with each other deep down where it counts, you know?
They might bicker and there might be friction externally but the bond revealed all; they care about each other, and as the first two Robins who had to have the first exchange of that title, their relationship is markedly different than the ones they have with the others.
Dick and Jason were able to be in lockstep with each other nearly instantly while Bruce and the others were still reeling from the bond. Jason’s friction with the family as Red Hood fell away almost instantly, save for some minor conflicts with Tim later.
Dick’s need to be the protector and older sibling was still present, but with Jason there at his side he wasn’t alone any more. Together, they could support Bruce as the center and try and save the bond itself.
This closeness, in my opinion, will be Dick’s saving grace in his new condition. Jason will be his lifeline. And they wouldn’t have had that in a world where bitterness over the transfer of the Robin title still existed between them. Or it would, at the very least, be much harder to find that closeness without time and bond-related revelations.
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