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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

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Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys @luvbadass @buttercup-beeee @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv @tryymebitch @mell-bell @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree @alina-exe @cherricola66

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don��t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

#maneskin fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david fiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #quiet music #bethanysnow #mywriting

238 notes · View notes

turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

Hot Spring

Fem!Reader x Cassian smut - the long awaited hot spring fic. N S F W

Three days of flying. Three days of frozen wasteland wind on your wings. Your body ached. It didn't bother to shiver anymore. Cassian was coasting lower and lower, his feet nicking the tips of trees before he lifted himself back up. You could tell his wings were stiff too. "Break." You called weakly, your shoulders were pulling inwards. It was well past time for a stop. "Thank the Mother." You heard him mutter ahead. You smiled. He hated being to first to call for break. You could tell you were drawing closer to the Middle each day, but you had opted to take a wide berth around the mountain. It added a day to the trip. A day of pelting ice against your sore body and wings. "I'll get some wood." He said once you landed. He flared his wings out, groaning at the strain. You watched the massive arches of them fold back in slowly, and felt the relief of it second hand. His face was blissful when he opened his eyes. He grinned tiredly and headed to the forest to collect branches. You couldn't ignore the way that groan ignited a bit of heat between your legs. You were grateful he left before he could scent it on you. You tried gathering as many small dry sticks and tinder as you could. After the storm that had hit, it was difficult. You dusted off your hands on your pants and sighed, not bothering to make a fire pit. It would likely not be happening with such damp timber. His yell made you jolt upright. "Cass?" You called. Your voice seemed muffled against the trees. Too quiet, too alone. Your heart stuttered with the adrenaline kicking in. No response from him. You started to run, tearing through ferns and branches as you went. Some vines cut your palms but you kept calling for him. "Cass!?" He was grinning when you found him. Stupidly, gleefully grinning. "What the hell Cass?" You breathed, your body aching. The run was exhausting. You legs strained to keep you up after jumping over so many obstacles. He began pulling off his tunic, to which you cleared your throat, trying to excuse yourself to look away. Embarassment stained your cheeks. "Dont be shy, come on." He waved you over, noting the way he took off his pants like he was ready to fu-You cut off the thought before it could spawn more wicked ones. You squinted over his shoulder, following his finger. Then you burst into chaotic laughter. He was fully naked by the time he reached the steaming pool of water. A sight that you wished you could save in your memory forever. His tanned muscled body moving so gently to ease into the water. You followed him in with ease, the rushing heat in your veins from the sight of him making it much easier to undress with him there. You were again grateful for the distance between you. You prayed he didnt catch a whiff of your pheromones before you entered the water. You wanted to keep it strictly professional with him, despite the attraction you felt there. Besides that, he acted plainly uninterested daily. You did catch the slight color change of his cheeks when you dipped into the spring though. + The hot spring was steaming against the cold air. Snow melted a few feet above the heat rising. The murky water was just big enough to fit you and Cassian fully, wings out. Soaking them was a relief enough to make you groan when you stepped in. Cassian had done the same, flexing his wings out and sighing once fully submerged. It was a comfortable space... or it would have been, if you were clothed. Your leg bumped his and you felt embarrassment and anxiety race to your cheeks. You looked to the snow covered trees around you, avoiding eye contact. Avoiding acknowledging that you were both within feet of each other, naked. Thankfully, the storm seemed to break after a few minutes in the hot spring. The winds no longer whipped at your exposed skin, and birds began singing in the trees far in the distance. The skies were dark still, a looming threat of more ice or rain. "We need to leave first thing in the morning." Cassian sighed, wiping water from his face. He splashed some on his neck. Making his tanned skin gleam in the overcast light coming through. You swallowed hard, trying not to stare at him. At his exposed skin or the biceps that flexed while he massaged his shoulders. "We dont need to talk about that right now." You dismissed, sinking further down in the water. His leg bumped yours again and you tried your best to ignore it. The water rippled around your hands when you lifted them to your hair, rinsing it without getting it fully soaked. "You're gonna freeze when we get out of here." He laughed, making the water ripple. You didnt care, the water felt better than anything you'd ever experienced. Your hair could fall off for all you cared. Your wings sung in approval at the heat soaking into them. Your bones felt finally at ease. You must have made a sound of approval, because Cassian cleared his throat and looked away nervously. "What's the matter General?" You laughed, giddy on the feeling of warmth again. "Afraid of-" He cut you off with a dark stare before you could continue. "Afraid of you attracting some wild male beast to us? A bit yes." He adjusted his legs again and you didnt miss the way he seemed to turn his lower half away from you. You smiled wickedly. His cheeks went red. "And you're not a wild male beast?" You asked, voice low. Maybe it was the water, but warmth not only surrounded you but was creeping between your legs even more than before. You could feel him staring at you, could feel the heat that seemed to bore into you with his eyes. Your eyes locked with his and his flared, only slightly. Wings tucked in, and he straightened himself in the hot bath. His nipples hardened in the cold air. "Is that what you think of me?" His voice was deeper, it rumbled down your spine in a way that made your toes curl. You dared not answer, that wicked grin on his face made you want to challenge him. "What if I did?" That was all he needed. He stood, the water steaming off him in the cold. The water barely covered his hipbones, and you tried your hardest not to glance any further down. "I guess I'd just have to prove it to you." He came close to you, and leaned down. Close enough you could feel his warm breath against your cold cheek. Your skin flushed. Then he shook his damp hair out right there. Splashing you with cold droplets. You shielded yourself and glared. When he straightened and tilted his head back to laugh you rose, caught his hair in a hand and yanked his head back. You didnt think about what you were exposing until his hands were on your hips. Balancing you together. your gaze flew to his throat, how it bobbed when before he spoke. You could barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. His thumbs dug into you slightly, squeezing in such a gentle delicate way. "I'd say you might like this. Having control." His eyes were dark, and the slight color in his cheeks made your breath almost knock out of you at the words. "And what if I do?" "Then I'd say do whatever. You cant break me." You loosened your grip in his hair and he posed over you, hovering. Waiting to strike. Waiting for your approval to do so. You traced a finger from his chin, down his neck, to his perfectly sculpted chest and abs... Then lower. You didn't touch his hardness, not yet. You teased, tracing your fingers around his most sensitive areas. Around his thighs under the water, the soft curve of his ass. He hissed at the lack of touch. You pressed closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stuck. In a frenzy he took your chin and angled your lips to him. His tongue entered your mouth in a slow, delicate way that did not match how his body moved. He wrapped his arms around you and hauled you up, out of the pool with ease. His growl of approval when you pulled on his hair again sent flutters down your stomach. He brought you to a nearby cave, ducking under thick shrubbery that covered the entrance. He never stopped kissing you. It was surprisingly warm inside, and the bag he had carried lay beside a few rocks set up for a fire. "I thought you were looking for firewood, not a place to stay." You scolded between his soft lips meeting yours. "I figured you'd appreciate this more." He breathed a shaky laugh and set you down, guiding you gently to the floor. He practically drooled at the sight of you splayed before him, and his hands traced your thighs with surprising delicacy that you were beginning to expect of him. "I'll show you what a wild male can do." He purred, then began kissing down your stomach. He lapped a tongue over your hipbones, one lick over each side. His cock twitched at the reaction he earned from you. Gods he didnt know how much he really wanted you until this finally happened. He didnt think just being naked with you would make him so needy. It was a struggle not to take you then and there, but he wanted to enjoy the sensations. He wanted to make your time alone last. He wanted to make you scream and beg on his tongue. He wanted this potential one time opportunity be worth it. He pinched one of your nipples, rolling it in his fingers. You let you a soft moan, and he cursed. "Cassian-" You breathed when his other hand slid between your legs. He cupped you, his fingers playing softly with the folds of your wetness. "Fuck baby-" He sighed, trying to ignore the aching of his cock. His thick fingers teased your entrance. You ground down on him, begging for any sort of friction. The heat your pussy throbbed with was begging for anything he could give. "So impatient." He tisked, but finally relented. He pushed a finger inside you, curling it ever so slightly. "Mother above... you're so tight." He palmed his cock, spreading the precum over his length.

His dark hair tickled your belly when he lowered his lips to you, circling over your clit. You bucked into him, begging for more. He flattened it against you, testing, teasing. All the ways he wanted to play with you, and he didnt have the time. The patience to do it. He cursed the Cauldron and the Mother herself for such an unfortunately timed opportunity. He lapped at you finally, in rhythm with his pulsing finger.

You could have screamed, you could have begged for more and more and more to be inside you. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction so early. You eyed his cock, and reached for it. Before you could grasp his thick length though, He hauled you upward. lifting your bottom half off the ground and pulled you to his mouth, drinking you in so deeply that he hoped the taste of you would never leave his tongue.

Your hips bucked into him, and his finger pulled out gently. He held you to him, his tongue darting inside your pussy and lapping at it. He hummed in approval, like a starving male. "I'm going to-" You panted, feeling yourself get closer and closer to coming with each passing of his tongue over you. Then he stopped. Abruptly, as if he knew how close you were and wanted to really make you burn. Your broken sigh of displeasure was quickly cut off by his tongue entering your mouth, spreading your own juices on you. It was sloppy, and fast. He laid down and pulled you over him.

Straddling his hips, you drug your nails down his chest in a long slow line. He smiled wickedly, and his hands palmed your ass. "Do whatever you want, baby. I'll take care of you." He promised. You hummed in approval and pushed back against his cock, teasing his head at your entrance. "Mother above..." He sighed, feeling the heat there. Your core coiled, begging to take him right there. But you wanted to torture him as he had done to you.

You slid down, and lowered your mouth to his tip. His scent mixed with yours in the filthiest of ways, and it made you go into a frenzy of heat. Burning more than before, you took his cock in your mouth in one go. You let his spit mixed with yours slide down his cock, and palmed his balls. He panted, and his ass tensed, trying to push deeper into your mouth. You held him down, and pulled up from his length enough to catch his eyes. "Fuck-" he moaned, and his head landed back on the stone under you. A spurt of precome slicked his tip, and you hummed around him.

"Get up." He pulled at your hair, his hands flying to your hips and placing you perfectly over his cock. "I need you." He said, voice a gravely tone. You smiled, enjoying the words and the sight of him so flustered. You couldn't deny you were on the verge of breaking down too.

"What do you say?" You said, lowering on to him ever so slowly. He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned when you stopped halfway down his incredible length. "Please-" He begged. "Please fuck me. Please. I need you." The words made you melt fully. And you seated yourself on him, like a lock sliding into place. He filled you so perfectly so right. It made your head spin with pleasure. You rode him, slowly at first, adjusting to his size. Then, hard and fast and held yourself up for him to fuck into you. Mutters of dirty words and promises of more more more had you panting. He sucked on your chest, leaving a dark mark on your collarbone. "You're going to kill me." He sighed, gripping your hips tighter. He flipped your bodies, gently guiding you below him. The cold stone against your back brought goosebumps to your arms. His thumb circled your clit as he slid slowly, in and out of you. Adjusting again to the new position. You could feel your mixed wetness coating your ass, and sliding on the smooth cave floor. You'd never been so wet in your life. You writhed with pleasure below him, angling your hips so he could hit that sensitive spot over and over again. He started thrusting faster, hissing when your nails sliced down his back. He grunted, feeling you tighten around him. You knew you wouldn't last with him fucking you like that. You placed a hand on his chest, and he slowed. "I'm going to come if you keep-" He shook his head and smiled "Come with me baby, I'm close too." He started at the previous pace again, but this time he lifted your hips, angling even deeper inside you. You could have blacked out with the pleasure of it. The immense feeling of your climax roaring to life. He could feel it too, the way your insides tightened with each brush over your gspot. And it only got him closer. His cock ached, his balls ready to release. But he waited, he wanted to feel you coming on his cock. He watched your eyes flutter and pinch closed, the way your red lips formed a perfect oval. And then the crashing of your orgasam squeezing him. He couldn't hear himself with the roaring in his ears, but he knew he was loud was loud. His head tilted back, and he let himself go.

You came, hard. You walls clenching around him so he couldnt stop even if he wanted to. He spilled inside you, the tension in his belly finally releasing and spurting inside your heat. You milked him for all he had, and even after he was spent and shaking with his release he still slowly slid in and out of you. He rested his shaking hands on either side of your head, giving you a weak smile. Then, the breath was stolen from him. His eyes met yours and you froze. It was cataclysmic. Like a mountain crumbling in front of you, you could not look away. His eyes shone, wide and bright at his newfound perspective. "I-" He stammered, and his shaking worsened.

You didnt know what to do. Your hands shook as well when you took his face and brought him down to kiss you. The golden light of the newfound bond shimmered in your mind.

"My mate-" You finally made the words come out, astonishment disappearing. What replaced it was utter joy. Complete happiness that made your previous experiences with joy seem like stone faced indifference. The feeling of love poured from you so heavily it dwarfed the fear, the paranoia, the sadness over it possibly being over with him. Because it would never be over. You would always be destined together, linked on a cosmic level. Even if it didnt work out, that didn't change he was your mate.

"It makes so much more sense now." He laughed, his trembling fingers pushing hair out of your face. "That's why I could never stay away. I thought I was being a creep."

You laughed. "A mate is creepy enough. But I'm glad its just you." You pushed his hair back, and pulled him down to lay on you. You fell asleep like that, for a long while. curled around each other in the cave filled with the warmth from your bodies.

#cassian x reader #acotar fic #smut #cassian

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mukuberry · 2 years

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Ooo yes! I really like your interpretations of their songs, I love Christ too , religious imagery and just the raw emotions in it... so so gooddd

Judas is one of my favs along with don't kill. Idk why I like dont kill, I like the piano and bird sounds in it .. its fun the emotions that one evokes are hard to explain but they're... ough beautiful.

Dogdog too. I love dogdog.. also my first one I heard.. lyrically its so painful and powerful I love it so much... just yeah<3

Their music really feels like the kind you'd find in the liminal space as you're trying to figure out what to do next about your negative emotions while also feeling the pain of those around you and the pain you hold in yourself if that makes sense .(I need to read more of their lyrics tbh only read dogdogs and christ)

Ugh dogdog is really really good!! I especially love the lyric "I want to die, I'll keep screaming out, because I look so beautiful doing it" it's just so!!!!!!!! All the lyrics in dogdog are super powerful but i especially love that one... and when the chorus hits? Beautiful!! The visuals are gorgeous too. Alot of Abuse's works deal with the themes of alienation and feeling of being wrong just for existing, but dogdog is definitely the song that touches on this the most, and it is conveyed perfectly.

I think Don't Kill properly has the most powerful instrumental of them all! It's really impressive both on your end and Abuseken's that you managed to get that without knowing the lyrics! It's not 100% accurate but it's pretty close imo! There's lyrics on yt if you ever wanna listen, though I'm not entirely sure about what happens in the end. The fact that Abuse managed to convey such things without lyrics just goes to show how good of a musician they are. I love how the music gets louder and more chaotic(?) as the end draws near, only to fade out and leave nothing but bird chirping

#chernikocore #vocaloid #abuseken

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sweetpickolwarrior · 3 years

Text

The Three Times You Didn’t Want Them To Hear You, The One Time You Did (Part 2)

Established fic

Small!Brown!Female!Reader

Not too apparent but just letting you know in case.

TW(for this chapter) - 3rd person descriptions of intoxication (mild?)

Fic summary: You have been travelling with geralt and Jaskier for quite some time, you had always been told that your voice would take you places before you had no choice but to abandon your previous life. You still loved it though. This fic explores the times you let go and let yourself sing.

PART 1 HERE

In the days that followed, Geralt had not mentioned the river incident during training. they never talked about the episodes. He had caught glimpses of you practising your sword strokes in the mornings, caught onto the way you counted your steps, moving with a rhythm that was rehearsed and almost musical. But combat was not like music. Far from it. you could afford to take your time and be meticulous when conducting your bow and arrow, however, swords were rarely so forgiving. You miss a beat, you die. Even so, he supposed, you were coming along well.

To say Jaskier was having trouble containing himself would be an understatement. He was practically bursting at the seams, wanting to hear the warm tones of your voice again. He had been told by Geralt that the alghoul hunt had shaken you, and understood how letting your voice free after Meletile knows how long would have felt. The yearning and relief in your voice had touched him in his bones and memories of performing for the first time after sickness, or a bout of dejection rang in his head. Though he supposed the longest he had ever gone without uttering a full bar would have been less than a week. He wondered how hard it must be for you to keep your passion locked away, suppressing it if you felt in any way like he did when singing. He had met milkmaids with voices sweet as honey who could care less that they could carry a tune, tavern keepers with brassy voices thick and golden as the ale they served that only sung to watch the clock tick to close. But he knew you felt the sound you created cradle you, the way your eyes were closed, the glimpse of your wistful sways, basking in the safety of the melody you were singing, his only regret now being that he cut your comfort short.

You had been undoubtedly back to your usual, chipper self for quite some time now, and he reckoned that after almost two days of silence on the issue (prescribed by Geralt) you would be shifted by a little persuasion.

The bard began to strum a well-known tune, one he knew everyone on the continent had heard. One he often used to gauge where his pupils were starting in his single year at Oxenfurt. The unperturbed original version was chock full of melisma, dynamics, and sung in off-beats before being simplified for children to be taught in schools. This inevitably led to those children singing it in their playgrounds, and when these children grew, sung (in the loosest possible sense of the term) in pubs late into the night; losing all semblance of its former beauty. the memory of the thudding, syllabic, droning chorus sung over and over made Jaskier cringe.

“Geralt, do you know this one?”

your ears perked up at the familiar words, but the melody was something more developed and bouncy, much more pleasant than the veritable chanting you had often been subject to when tucked away at the back of a tavern.

Jaskier’s voice flit about the words like a spring bird, you payed close attention to the way he controlled his breathing and projected so effortlessly, beauty added to the song you knew so well made you smile.. That is until you felt the bard jostle up to your shoulder, “surely you’ve heard this one, Y/N, come on, I could use a harmony!”

He continued, drawing out his vowels, giving you space to come in, but you shrank away. You knew that he would not have forgotten the unwelcome experience by the river, but you dared hope over the last few days.

“I dont know how to do that, Jask.” you muttered. He could sense that you had started to close up, but he felt some gentle coaxing and encouragement would bring you out of your sudden shell. Unfortunately, Jaskier’s definition of gentle when it comes to things like encouragement is about as akin to the word as a frog to a bird.

“Well, as you may know, I was a professor at Oxenfurt’s school of music, and I can assure you that within this very hour, we will be singing harmonies to make Meletile herself weep! Here’s your note, young protege” He sang this last phrase, letting it ring so you could catch on. You attempted to shoo the bard away, pushing out a chuckle and putting on a polite smile so as not to offend your eager friend. It’s not that you didn’t want to sing with him, it’s just that… well, you couldn’t. You were no stranger to harmonies at all, being able to work them out for your small group of friends who would run off to sing behind the schoolhouse at every spare moment, the parts clicking neatly into your head like the nock of an arrow to the taut string of your bow. You could almost see a harmony like a road winding along a melody and remembered the warm resonant feeling when your voice blended with another perfectly, listening as if you were one entity, blindly trusting your voice to take the right path. Over the last few years, one of your frustrations had been that while traipsing over the continent on your own, singing had kept you somewhat sane, it just irritated you that you could hear a lovely harmony along in your head, yet you could not sing two parts at once. You supposed you really did miss it. Maybe-

These thoughts must have passed in a flash as right then, Jaskier was hooking his arm through yours quite alarmingly, his step falling into a lively jig;

Somehow he kept his breaths even and the sound still flowed out, unobstructed, while you were pulled harshly out of your thoughts.

"Jaskie- hey, hey! Stop! I don't know what you're talking about, okay?" You shook the bard off, not meaning to come across as harsh, but you couldn't help it. He shrugged off your rejection and marched off, no doubt to prod at Geralt now.

You didn’t want this to be a thing. You had been without singing for quite some now and were sure that you could live without it. You had people who cared about you again. Jaskier would give you the food he left over, let you borrow his blanket when you were cold, he would always try to be making you laugh and would pick you flowers from the paths you walked. Geralt would always look back to check how you were, he let you ride roach when you were on your bleed and your legs felt they were going to fall off, he was a veritable wall when it came to standing between you and danger. Why would you need to sing to yourself like you were still a child? It was time to move on. That couldn’t happen if you started going along with Jaskiers sudden obsession with being a duo. It was soon to blow over you were sure. Just have to wait it out.

You lagged slightly behind and listened from a distance. You let yourself focus on the thought of having some proper food and a warm bed soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt’s shoulders dipped slightly as the three horseshoes tavern came into view, the amber glow spilling out of the windows to the dirt street softening the nip of the brisk night. He pat roach on her shoulder as they neared the front of the tavern, leading her to the right while Y/N and Jaskier made their way into the warmth of the tavern, the stables waiting for the chestnut mare. He led her into the small pen, dismissing the stableboy with a wave. He proceeded to check the bedding was dry as roach set to touch the nose of the horse in the next stall. He slowly undid the buckles of her saddle and undid her reins as she took a long drink from the trough within the stall. He had become fond of this tavern during his travels, watching it grow from a horse stop to a pub and then an inn over the many years. The swell of the chorus to "Toss a coin” gushed through the walls and Geralt knew he was to be greeted with an uproar when he entered. He let his mind drift as he pulled out Roach’s brush.

He wasn't to keep Y/N waiting very long, but he thought she may appreciate a moment to herself. He let his mind wander a little as he brushed roach before leaving her for the night. He had noticed how Y/N would clam up at the mention of her accompanying Jaskiers musical endeavours. He wondered why as, as far as he could remember, her sound was not unpleasant at all. He remembered the way she had snatched herself away from the conversation earlier, holding onto her arm like she was cradling herself. Geralt picked up little signs of discomfort in his… well… friends, he supposed.

Jask would become less verbal and more softly musical, he would hold his lute, often slung on his back when not using it, to cradling it around his front, as if constantly mid-song. Y/N would let her thick hair down as if she could hide away behind it, hold her arm, and often trail a ways behind the two if they were on the path. She had taken to slipping behind him, actually, and ushering Jaskier to her side, using the broad witcher and her tall friend as a sort of wall between her and the world if they were places where there were people or if she felt one of her episodes coming along. Not many words were needed, to Geralt’s convenience when it came to things like this. He was glad that the girl had taken to trusting him, though he still only knew snippets of her past. (Though he knew that a lot of her information on him had come through the bard’s songs.)

Still, there was a mutual understanding between the three that was pleasant and unperturbed. That was until Geralt had realised that she had effectively been shutting herself up when it came to singing. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal if he was honest. Jaskier certainly wasn’t afraid of it. He had observed over a great any years people who would hum to themselves while working, walking, and the like. Ladies in brothels and pubs warbling over the bustle, even if they sounded more akin to banshees than sirens (that some would claim to share blood with, for extra coin) mothers singing to their children out before their houses… in fact… if he tries quite hard, he thinks he recalls a soft melody… something with long, sad words in front of a wooden arm chair, fingers running through his then... brown curls, he thinks.

Roach has had enough of a brushing.

He makes his way into the tavern, the smell of ale, sweat and stew making the air thick and heavy. A swell of patrons surrounding the table Jaskier was is currently perched upon raise their tankards in his direction “WOOIIIIII(WAHEEYYY)”. He urged the corners of his lips to a slight curl and gave a nod in their direction. The Trio’s arrangements for the night had not yet been set as geralt harboured all the coin for the moment. He would have to keep Y/N waiting a moment longer.

After the alghoul hunt, geralt had a hefty jangle in his coin pouch, initially from the coin of slaying the beasts, then some more due to the fact he had been able to sell some marrow at the same market he had got the apples from Roach.

He paid for two rooms that night - a room with two beds and a room with one. He felt that it would be nice to treat Y/N with a proper dose of privacy through the rocky last few days.

The trio usually bought a room that had two beds and took turns sleeping on the floor. Geralt rarely slept, opting to meditate instead and when he did, he insisted that he had never been used to the softness of a bed, and it was enough that he was out of the cold and rain. This had led to many occasions where he might not have paid for a double bedded room in the first place, the youngest of the three ignoring him and placing her bedroll over the floor that he would be forced to take the bed, the witcher stubbornly placing his bedroll on the other side of the room that she would wake up during the night and take the bed, and sometimes Jaskier joining them on the floor simply because he enjoyed “camping indoors”.

Making his way to the back of the tavern where Y/N was, he heard the opening notes to “toss a coin” once again, he supposed that they would toss more if the bard subject was within the room. He caught Y/N eyes, reaching to finally unbutton his dark cloak, she had reserved a relatively secluded booth at the back of the tavern, her bag strewn over the table as to show she did not want company, her arm draped over her drink and her eyes… glassed over?

“Geralt! Come sit… there’s space”

She tugged lightly at his sleeve as he came to sit down resting her head on her arms atop the wooden table.

“We came here to eat and sleep Y/N”

“But you and Jask drink!” she whined “Besides’ve only had one… pint… before this one...yeah”

In the few months they had been together, Geralt had never seen Y/N drunk, she would often help Jask nurse his drink if she hadn't any water left from her pack. Even after a successful hunt, she would turn down Geralt's offers of buying her a pint. He always thought it was because she had never actually been drunk, it would have made her extremely vulnerable travelling alone all this time, and he figured that she had not done so around him because she was afraid of what they may think of her, what she may be like, the net removed to catch her thoughts. Needless to say, he did not expect this tonight.

“ Y/N you’re barely five foot and you’ve eaten what today?”

“Hey! I’m almost five foot two, andI’vee eaten just about enough of Jask’s horseshit about singing to last me a lifetime”

So that’s what this was about.

“Hmm...he thinks you sound good. Do you want meat or potatoes?” he tread lightly.

“M’not hungry. I dont sound anything. I haven’t sounded anything for ages.”

“Hmm”

The girl nibbled on a few potatoes from Geralt's plate, electing to ignore her bowl of meat, now leaning back, clutching her tankard close to her chest. Odd.

Jask had taken to playing toss a coin in an insatiable loop, the patrons of the Three Horseshoes not seeming able to get enough, the clink of coins coming in a wave every chorus -

“He wipe out your chest… something.. Pest.. friend of humaaanity.. Hmm hmm hmm rest…”

Y/N’s eyes were closed, a soft smirk on her lips as she leant back in the booth, her voice trailing along the words of the song haphazardly still sounding...nice. Geralt decided not to comment, the song having a somewhat fresh flavour coming in clumsy slices from his smaller companion.

“Pour him some aleeee... ” geralt was fast to react, catching the girls wrist, the drink sloshing over the side of her mug.

“Let’s go up.” he’d had enough of the bloody song for about three lifetimes.

He ushered Y/N through the tavern, her pack slung over his shoulder. Jask caught his eye as they were walking slowly through and he was...glaring? Geralt was just about done with indecipherable emotions and was glad he’d get a moment to himself before the bard came up to their room if he had not chosen to go and chase some poor lass.

Geralt was practically pulling Y/N up the stairs as a mother cat does a kitten, her feet all but failing her on the creaky wooden steps

“Harmnising.. Mmmfghsnn cocky...teach me...I can bloody harmonise.. din’t evennn go to ..to Oxenshite…dn’t need to be bloody taught..mmff”

“You sound nice.” geralt had certainly let his tongue loose tonight; it seemed fair as he wasn’t sure how much Y/N would even remember and that she had also let her voice loose before him, if not completely of her own volition.

“m’not nice geralt.. ’ve killed people.. Let people die-”

“You have your own room tonight.” he hastily added, he did not need her mind wandering down that path in this state. Gods, he knew it would be a hole to climb up out of especially if she were to spend the night alone. Maybe he would take the room, perhaps it was a mistake to-

Y/N’s weight had shifted into his side “you’re nice.. Jask can pay for my druddy blinks..his fault ‘nyway..druddy blinks”

They had finally reached the room, Jaksiers voice floating up towards them

“Lovely ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have had enough excitement for the night - a final round of applause for our dear protector! A soft ballad now, ladies and gentlemen, to ease us into this splendid night”

Geralt pushed the flimsy door open (he was glad to be just next door) and Y/N practically threw herself onto the bed, letting out a sigh.

“I know this one” she mumbled, legs still dangling onto the floor, eyes closed.

The witcher set her pack down at the foot of the bed and went to shift her so she could get under the covers as she started to sing along, loose ribbons of sound falling in a pleasant heap. Again, he decided not to comment, drinking in the sound to make up for having to be the only one dragging through this night completely sober. Her voice lingered on the notes a moment more than they fit, words being replaced by simple mm’s until a soft burst of a familiar phrase came through. She sighed as the covers of the bed rest just below her chin, he could still see her foot wagging along to the ballad as he clicked the door shut.

Finally sitting in front of the fire in the room he would be sharing with the troubadour, he started to meditate, focusing on the wood beneath his knees, the warmth on his face, and the thrum of the voices below and beside. There had been a shift - Y/N was no longer walking along the same note as Jaskier, her voice was gliding somewhere lower, the sound slightly more deliberate than a moment before. The unsteadiness he heard in her voice reminded him of his first swordstrokes after wintering in Kaer Morhen. Hesitant, yet sure. Afraid he had forgotten everything yet trusting his muscles to carry him. He could not decipher the words from her mouth, but every note, however wavering and reluctant fit with the clear bright sound of Jaskier beneath. The witcher felt he could hear the lumber of the tavern resonate with the emulsion of the two, he let out a deep breath, almost feeling the wood curve to him.

~~~~~

In the lower half of the Three Horseshoes, Jaskier had watched till the pulsing crowd before him grew sparse as he announced his wind-down. It was a good night for coin on his part, and he could've made even more, singing out till the sun broke through the wee hours or the innkeep shooshed him away. However, he wished to retire with the rest of his troop. Especially since he was to give geralt a hearty piece of his mind when he arrived. This town had clearly seen much of the witcher over the years, pleasant mumblings with Geralts name instead of witcher and butcher had littered through the tavern when they entered. Rare, but welcome. They even cheered him as he came through the doors!

The muscle memory of his calloused fingers started to fade as he neared the end of the song, added a few musings of his own since he could not entirely remember the lute score, he landed gracefully on a perfect cadence, his voice waning away.

There were 4 people left before him now, a young couple, nuzzling at each other in a close booth, the innkeep and a young maiden sat cross legged well nigh his feet. He figured he would have chased after her was this some other night, her pretty blonde curls cascading past her shoulders. However, the bard needed questions answered and his bones ached from sleeping out in the cold for the better part of a week.

“Ladies and gentlemen” he started, hushed, much less declarative than earlier on “it has been my absolute pleasure” he held his hand out to the girl on the floor and raised her up, planting a feathery kiss on her fingers “to sing for you tonight”. He straightened himself up and strode out the room, not turning to see the remaining patrons’ reactions to his somewhat hasty departure, however much he had tried to wrap it in a neat bow.

He passed the stairs in a flurry, and spotted a room with the door ever so slightly ajar, Geralt’s way of showing him what room they were in, had he not the chance to disclose. Jaskier figured Y/N would be asleep by now, and so his anger would have to be quite silent. Since seeing geralt lead Y/N up, he had felt the red hot emotions bubble up inside of him, however much he hid behind soft songs, words and kisses.

“Geralt! What the fuck!” his whisper harsh and piercing “she sang?! She was singing?! Next to you! What did you say? What did I do wrong? Answer me geralt or I swe-”

“Listen” the witcher's amber eyes met him with a cool gaze as Jaskier then realised that Y/N was not to be seen in the room. His mind slowly registered the single word and the bard perked slightly when he heard a soft, round sound seeping through the wall.

“She said she knew the song. The last one.”

Jaksier hastily pressed the side of his head against the wall, soaking up the sound. She was winding somewhere around the chorus, not all the words present.

“she was singing with you " the witcher still knelt with his eyes closed “lower than you but.. Together”

Jask's eyes widened slightly as he began quiet ministrations to relieve himself of his lute for the night, still keeping his ear tuned to the soft hums next door.

“Harmonies?” he asked, praying Geralt may spill a bit more.

“I know nothing of music bard… but it fit. Well.”

“I still don’t understand where this came from, Geralt.” Jaskier thought she didn't even know the words to Toss a coin, but as he glanced over to the farthest corner of the tavern that night whilst atop a table, he was sure that Y/N lips were moving in unison to his, Geralt sat beside her, almost ignoring her it seemed. It just made no sense to him. Perhaps he had pressured her with mentions of his academic endeavours? Geralt exhaled audibly through his nose as his mouth twitched upwards. His version of a chuckle Jaskier supposed.

“She’s drunk”

“D-drunk? Very drunk?? Gods - I know I upset her a few days ago, but today I tried - that is-”

"It's not you, Jask" a breathy laugh followed "she tried to throw her mead at me thanks to your ditty"

"Yes well, I suppose that is one way to take it" Jask smiled as he slipped under the covers, noticing that the sound next door had slowly crept away. "She's sleeping?"

"Hmm."

The men continued in hushed whispers, Jaskier coaxing the haps of the night from his friend like he would the events of a hunt he was not present for. Geralt entertained him, somewhat grateful that the story he was entrusting was not to do with monsters, blood or death this time.

~~~~

The morning was crisp and light as you woke to a quiet, empty room. Your brows furrowed as your head felt heavy against the pillows. You rose, a bitter taste lingering upon your dry tongue, seating itself at the back of your throat. You didn't mean to get drunk last night and it wasn't what you expected. You tried to push your thoughts to the back of your mind and made your way hastily to the stables, grabbing your pack trying to ignore the churns in your stomach.

The morning sun flared in the clear sky, the cold air still and electric. You squinted until the canopy of the stables sheltered you. You greeted Roach, kissing your hand and giving a rub above her nose, the mare huffing in response.

"Good morning Y/N" you heard Jaskiers voice, hushed and deliberate and turned to see him holding a small wooden cup of tea

"Chamomile. It will help."You sipped on the tea, sweetened with a little honey leaning against the wall of the wooden structure.

"Where's Geralt?" You felt how raspy that would have come out had it not been for the few sips of tea.

"On the look for some contracts, I suppose. A nice town, this. Good coin. Oh! Here,"

He handed you a heel of bread, soft and fresh smelling.

"Thank you, Jask."

He shuffled over to you, shoulders now touching

"sweet tea and sweet bread, young miss. Cure of all cures. Trusty after unruly nights at Oxenshite"

Hazy glimpses of a low rumbling voice, swathes of people chanting a song, warm covers and your own voice swimming amongst all these scenes.

Oh good grief.

Your eyes widened at the unorganised reflections, you thought people drank because it actually helped things. Gods, never again."I- uhh.. need to see geralt about… swords." You stumbled away hearing Jaskier chuckle warmly to himself.

A/N

Hey ya'll thank you for being patient with me I know it took ages and this is literally the last day of the deadline I set for myself a fortnight ago 0_0 but I really hope you're enjoying the story far! Thank you so much for the notes on the last chapter I haven't published any stories in a very long time and it's nice to know I can still write lol. Reblogs, comments and criticism are very welcome! Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in further chapters/stories and if you have any tips on adding tags and things i'd love to hear them as I'm still trying to get the hang of navigating Tumblr as a writer again it's changed quite a bit lol. Thank you again and chapter 3 will be on its way!

mwah x

tagged people

@ladylizzieofdarbyshire

PART 3

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a-copper-butterfly · 4 years

Text

Ghost Chill Smut.

Much like a cat leave dead things on the rug as a sign of love. I give you people this.

Coops smut, knock thy self out. It is very spicy tho

As always this is in the @lumosinlove world.

Sirius dumped his sweaty work out clothes by the washer. He can deal with them later. He felt great, it had been one of those workouts that had left him with more energy rather than tiring him out. He wandered into the living room and found the TV off. The blanket nest that he had left Remus in earlier was still there, but it was empty.

Remus had already done his exercise for the day being the annoying early bird he was; he had been down in the basement gym before Sirius had pulled himself out of bed.

"Babe,” he called to the house in general. “Where you at?"

If Remus had gone out he would have left a note; normally he would have come down stairs and asked him if he wanted anything.

Sirius took a bite of his apple looking around the kitchen for any scrap of paper that could be a note. There was a thump from upstairs and Sirius looked up. He huffed, chewing on his bite.

"I’m up here, love" Sirius mimicked Remus as he began to climb the stairs, pushing the door to their room open when he reached the landing.

"What do you want for dinner? I was thinking, OH JESUS CHRIST!"

Sirius' jaw was on the floor as he looked over the room.

Remus was face down on the bed; ass in the air with a bright pink dildo vibrating in his hole. His dick was red and leaking between his legs. It looked like he had been edging for hours.

Remus turned his head toward the door at Sirius’ shout. His eyes were blown and glassy, his lips red from biting, dribble running down his chin. He was a vision. An indecent vision but a vision nonetheless.

Sirius pulled himself together quickly, picking his jaw up and adjusting his suddenly tight pants.

Remus twitched his hand and gasped. The buzzing changed its tempo. Sirius' eyes caught the little remote Remus clutched. Sirius stepped towards the bed taking the remote and returning to the door. He leaned against the frame and smirked.

Baby, why didn't you call me?" he looked down at the floor. The box that had held the sex toy was lying at the foot of the bed. Ah, the cause of the thump. Remus whined again, shifting so that his legs were further apart. He didn't seem capable of words.

"Alright then, let's continue,” Sirius looked at the remote. It had an on and off button and a little dial on one side. The dial only had numbers. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“So if this is three I wonder what the rest are?” Sirius mused, making a show of examining the remote. He clicked it back one setting and the dildo juddered and started skipping a beat. Remus made a displeased noise.

“Okay so we dont like two, let's try one,” the vibrator became one long buzzing noise. Remus keened, grabbing two handfuls of bedsheets and pulling them toward his head. He pressed his face into the mattress. His thighs quivered as he tried not to cum.

Sirius was mesmerized. He was sure the front of his trousers were soaked, but he didn't care. The sight in front of him was going to be spank bank material for the rest of his life. He was never going to hear a buzzing ringtone the same again. He let Remus writhe for a few more moments before dropping it back to two. That seemed to be the safest setting.

Remus relaxed slightly; he wasn’t white knuckling the bedsheets anymore. He was panting hard but his face was still covered by blankets.

Slightly worried that he might accidentally suffocate himself, Sirius moved over to the bed and slipped his hand under Remus’ head. He pulled his face to the side so that he could breath more easily.

“Are you okay, love?” Sirius asked tenderly, running his fingers down the side of Remus’ face, pausing to draw the infinity symbol beside his eye.

A slight smile pulled at the sides of Remus' mouth. He might have been beyond words but he could nod. Sirius let him get his breath back before standing again.

“Shall we find out what happens at four?” he asked but didn't wait for a response. The dildo was suddenly intense again before dulling down. It paused for a moment then repeated the strange rhythm.

The sight of Remus back and thighs tensing and relaxing in time with the dildo was getting a little bit too much. Sirius stuck his hand down his pants in an incredibly un-graceful way. He was hard, big shock, and leaking enough that each pull was a glide. His ragged breathing joined Remus as they both enjoyed this setting. Remus blinked his dark eyes at Sirius as he watched him touch himself. He was getting used to the rhythm so wasn't gripping the sheets each time it peaked.

Letting go of one clump,he held it his hand out to Sirius, who would deny that he stumbled forwards like a long limped puppy. He crashed on to the bed next to Remus, his hand still down his pants.

Remus pushed up on an unsteady elbow and leaned in for a sloppy kiss. They stayed like that for a little longer, Sirius tugging on himself and Remus pillaging his mouth for all it was worth.

When they came up for air Sirius had had enough of the teasing. He sat up and took hold of the dildo. Remus hissed as he gently pushed it in and out of his abused hole before pulling it all the way out. It buzzed comically in his hand for a moment before Sirius switched it off.

He saw that it was slightly smaller than him , pleased that his boyfriend hadn’t gone out to get a bigger dick.

Remus’ hole was wonderfully open, it winked at him as he admired it. Their bottle of lube was at the foot of the bed. It looked like it was going to be the next victim of gravity at any moment. Sirius snached it up and coated his hand in it. He slipped one finger into Remus hole, just checking, making him whine loudly.

Using the rest of the lube on his hand Sirius stroked himself a few times. With his dry hand he flipped Remus over. The Ex-PT whimpered as his stiff legs curled around Sirius' waist automatically.

Sirius crawled up Remus' body,leaving kisses up the center of his chest as he went. He reached his mouth and kissed him deeply.

“You ready?” he asked breathless already. Remus nodded vigorously, tightening his legs to pull him closer.

With how open he was, Sirius didn't even need to line himself up, slipping into Remus seamlessly. It was habit that made him pause when he was fully sheathed. The kick he got for it showed Remus’ displeasure.

Tucking both his hands under Remus' head he found his home sucking mark after mark into his neck.

For his part, Remus could only lay there making “Uh Uh” noises. He reached up and took hold of the bed head to steady himself.

The sound of wet flesh slapping added a base note to the grunts from Sirius and Remus.

Sirius pulled his hand from Remus' hair as he closed in on his goal. He reached down and grabbed Remus, twisting his hand as he pulled up in the way that made him moan.

It was a record in Sirius books. Three strokes and Remus spilled over his hand. His body stiffened arching up and clenching like a vise around Sirius, before melting into the mattress. The tight hole made Sirus lose his control and an uncountable number of thrusts later he emptied himself deep in Remus.

They lay panting for a while before Sirius pulled out. It was a mess but he didn have the energy to go all the way to the bathroom for a washcloth. He grabbed the tissues from the bedside table and set about cleaning his boyfriend.

After cleaning and tucking himself away Sirius curled around Remus. The other man was floppy and still. His eyes were hooded and still glassy, his breathing was shallow but there.

It had freaked Sirius out the first time Remus had dropped into this trance; he was worried he was having some kind of fit. It had terrified him even more when he had slipped into the same space himself. The complete loss of control had spooked him, but being with Remus had shown him that he could trust someone enough to be that vulnerable around them. Which was why he tucked Remus into his neck gently stroking his hair. He shook off sleep so he could be ready when his love came back to him.

“I will admit that was meant for next Thursday,” Remus' voice was gruff and sent a shiver down Sirius' spine. He stroked Remus’ hair out of his eyes, now back in focus, and looked down at him.

“Why?” he asked, trying to work out what was so important about next thursday.

“It’s our anniversary?” Remus said.

Sirius wasn't going to call his boyfriend out. He might have been wrong, but didn’t they celebrate their anniversary a month ago?

Remus must have picked up on the confusion because he began to laugh. Sirius was really trying to work out what was so funny. He was 98% sure that they had gone to Sid’s last month to celebrate. They had gotten a Sundae and everything.

“The anniversary of the first time we had sex,” Remus hummed leaning in to give his frankly “bamboozled” boyfriend a kiss.

#coops #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #lumosinlove #smut #Fic #sweater weather #sweater weather fic

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secretsniper3 · 3 years

Text

Part 3: Well Hung

My Master was right to lock my pussy behind a wall of steel, I constantly woke up to find my hands caressing the fluid that would run around the belt, my need evident and throbbing clear to me but in my belt there was nothing I could do but roll over and go back to sleep. 8am, my usual routine is stopped right out the gate by my belt, clearly meant to skip it Im greeted by my Master in the doorway, I stand completely naked save the belt locked to my hips. He steps towards me and tell me to not bother getting dressed, and puts a latex hood over my head, my hair black now (did he dye my hair overnight?) pushing through the hood to form my ponytail as he laces me into my latex face. Arms placed behind my back im cuffed in place and a posture collar locked around my neck with a leash attached. Following the leash im led into the main hall of my Masters home and I see something new, something that wasnt there last night. My Master clearly worked through the night to complete this device, largest device Iv ever seen he takes me into the middle and unleashes me. Locking a chain to my posture collar more restraints are added all over my body, my upper and lower arms get binders locked on with chains, wrists too, Waist gets 1 and thighs, shins and ankles for their own. unlocking my hands from behind my back my Master steps back, marvelling at his work.

Holding a large remote he presses a button and all the slack in my chains vanish, held tight by the chains my actions are clearly not mine to decide. Spinning a dial Im lifted into the air 3 feet, and pivot forward, my arms move behind my back and meet elbow to elbow as my knees bend back and my feet meet my hands and Im amazing this device can pull you so smoothly. Stepping towards me and raising me up to meet his gaze my Master places his hand on my cheek and with a smile moves to remove my chastity belt, with my wet sex exposed to him, fluid running faster and harder with each passing second he takes a deep breath, savouring my scent as I try meekly to move my hands a little lower to cup my pussy. My Master simply puts a finger on my labia to draw a instant reaction from my body, a gasp and a moan follow as he rubs up and down my lips carefully with a smile on his face. My focus is broken by a knock at the door, my Master going to answer I see a woman standing there talking to my Master. She is a tall woman, the high heels helping with that, a long, black latex dress drapes down her slender thighs as she gazes over at me. Ruby red lips and beautiful blue hair running freely down her back, closing the door my Master leads the woman to me and says aloud, “this is the Slave i was telling you about.” the woman's eyes widen, her red lips part and my eyes are drawn to them as she speaks, “for how long can i play?” “how long are you in town for?” my Master responds with a chuckle.

Licking her lips making them shine flawlessly as my Master takes a seat infront of me, the woman circles around, like a bird of prey having found its next meal she scans my entire body with a hunger in her eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. A touch of her finger ends the shiver before it reaches my sex, all my focus is on that 1 finger, tracing its way over my limbs, seemingly scaring my flesh with its burning hot touch Im sure to melt no matter what this woman does, eyes flying to my Master as he sits with a drink in hand with his eyes glued to mine. My pussy making its need known to all in the room as the puddle that was small moments ago grows larger by the second as the finger moves down my waist and over my smooth, firm ass and down my thigh. Clit throbbing as my pussy spasms at the sensory overload at just a mere finger I hear my Master say aloud “im keeping her in denial for now, think you can make her pussy even hotter than it already is, you be my guest.” All I hear behind me is the hum of a hungry animal as the finger loops over my thigh and scratches up the inside, drawing a line in my skin leading right to my puffy lips. Right there, just a little bit further!

Pain strikes my pussy as her hand comes down on my lips, a shriek of surprise and pain bursts from my lips as my pussy shakes in the aftermath. Finger still moving, painfully slow Im met with another wet slap to my pussy, and then just as suddenly a finger dives deep into my pussy. My gasp of pain elevates into a gasp of joy and bliss, my drooling pussy is getting action and I cant believe it! The finger withdraws with a wet pop as I hear her laughter behind me.

“Come now my dear, youd think id really let you cum when your Master wants your pussy denied of such pleasures?” thrusting a finger inside again for a moment before removing it a second time I know she is, quite literally pushing my buttons as her finger presses the only button that counts. The button that stands out, big and red and throbbing with need, a simple glancing touch is all it took to get my body right to the very tip of the edge a simple breeze would push me over, my eyes shooting into my skull as my brain tries desperately to comprehend what I just experienced. She waits till I have calmed down enough then repeats the glancing brush, sending me back to the peak. Looking ahead my Masters chair is empty, looking around for him I hear him laugh behind me as I hear him give the succubus something, what could he have given her. I am greeted with a smile on his face as he looks at me on his way back to his seat.

“Enjoy the ride, Slave.” is all Master says as my urethra is jabbed with something long and hard, my juices serving to lubricate it so it slides in easily as she proceeds to sound me. The pain quickly being overtaken by pleasure as Im fucked in a hole I never considered fucking before, but shes watching me. Pulling it out before I crest the ridge of pleasure Im left to moan and beg for release, my Master stands and grabs a blindfold and a spider gag, taking away my vision and ability to speak he takes great pleasure in my loss of senses. I dont need eyes to know hes hard, and hell probably use me sooner or later.

My clit still throbbing dangerously close to the edge the woman starts to caress it with, what is that sensation? oh god no! its a brush, she circles around my inner labia with the bristles of the thin brush and I cant stop her at all, she eases the head of the brush against my clits hood and it slips between them, rubbing my clit at its very core removing it the second before I would otherwise cum hard! This torture would carry on for some time of painfully hard denials at the last second before my Master pushes a button and flips me over in the air.

My breasts now facing the roof and the device that holds me begins to pull my neck up, rising to meet the demand my mouth presses into the woman's pussy. She is done playing with my cunt, now Im to play with hers, and she isnt forbidden to cum so within minutes of my talented tongues assault on her my face is glazed with her juices but she still holds strong. Clearly seeking more from my mouth she presses down and my tongue dives in deep, tasting the woman's pussy as her cum drools into my mouth and down my throat. Her warm folds locked around my mouth as she grinds my face into her pussy, cumming again and again.

“shes very talented with her tongue, and her pussy wont stop shaking, i can see her clit from here!” she says with orgasmic bliss in her voice

“i know how to break a slave” My Master replies, and he isnt wrong. Im broken, his plaything to do with what he wants.

The woman stops grinding into my open mouth and my face is coated in a thick layer of her juices, I start to think its over as my Master takes my mouth for his own use. Driving his hard cock down my throat my tongue naturally wraps around the shaft as I accept my Masters meat in my throat, thrust after thrust Im rewarded with a hot burst that flows quickly down my throat. Removing my blindfold Im treated to a sight I havent seen in a long time, my Masters cock inside a pussy. pumping in and out, oh how I wish it was my cunt he was plowing as he thrusts harder into the woman and her back arches in erotic bliss, my Masters hand gripping her blue hair as he continues to fuck her to orgasm. Im treated to a first class show as my Master and the woman continue thrusting into eachother, orgasm after orgasm they wont stop taunting me. The woman constantly bragging about how good it feels to cum knowing my pussy is denied and having my clit throb making it all the worse!

So there I hang, fixed in the middle of the room watching my Master and the woman fuck to orgasm over and over again, I cant even look away, their moans, their screams, flooding my ears and my pussy with need! They finally stop their exhibition match at my expense and my Master reveals my new belt, it has a long slick metal dildo where my asshole would sit, and another thinner pole for my urethra, nothing for my needy box though. I moan helplessly as they both set to lock my body back in its cage. Flipping me over and standing me upright, the woman gives me a deep kiss, tasting her own juices on my lips as her tongue fucks mine with gusto and my Master escorts her to the door. I manage to make out “we should do this again soon” as they kiss on the cheek and she leaves me to my denial with my Master.

Locking my feet in ballet heels before removing my restraints I am left to wobble on jelly legs as my arms are locked in a strict reverse prayer binder with elbows meeting in the small of my back, he says this is just beginning and at that thought my pussy clenches a little. A corset around my waist to make breathing more difficult when combined with my latex mask and posture collar, blindfolded once more Im left in the dark as my neck gets yanked and I lurch forward in my toe crushing boots. Stepping forward a few paces Im forced to my knees as Im pulled over and down, my Masters got a hard cock again and its my life's mission to sate its lust as I take it in my mouth and down my throat. My Master not even helping me as my latex coated head bobs up and down on his member and he cums down my throat. Pulling me back he takes in my appearance. “you look amazing if i do say so myself.” he says with a smile, I can hear his joy in his words as he stands me back up and turns me around and with another yank, Im walking again.

Hard to focus on where hes leading me to, he keeps rearranging things while I sleep and my inserts are only adding to my frustration. The pain in my feet far from over as the inserts inside me are fixed to the belt, every step making them sway side to side inside me, though not enough to make me cum, I cant cum from anal or he wouldn't have put 1 in my ass. Continuing to lead me into a room he fixes me in place and pushes a tube in my mouth, unscrewing my urethra and pushing a tube up into my bladder. Pressing a few buttons Im forced to walk forward as he laughs beside me. Its a treadmill! With no way to get off as Im completely secure and forced to march on in silent obedience. Unable to draw breath through the tube my nose is uncovered and fluid pours down the tube and into my mouth, Im hesitant at first but my Master commands me to drink and so I do it since it is “your lunch after all” he said as he turns and leaves me to your walk. the fluid running into my mouth periodically consists of oatmeal, vitamins and minerals and 3 types of aphrodisiacs. Every step hurts my poor enslaved feet and legs but what could I do besides walk on the path my Master has set for me?

2 hours later my breathing is ragged and hoarse as my Master returns to stop my walking, unhooking me and leading me back to the lounge he lays me down and frees my toes from their prison. I moan as the boots slide off. Removing my belt from my waist he sits me down in the bathroom and tells me to relieve myself. following his command I do as Im told and he cleans up after me, reapplying my belt with little resistance as Im exhausted now and very tired from my walk, he leads me back to my room and lays me down, releasing my arms and removing my corset and latex hood he rolls me over and with a kiss on my forehead I drop straight to sleep. He pats my ass knowing that my pussy is safe behind that wall of cold steel and goes to set up the house for the party tomorrow, knowing I will be asleep the rest of the day and through the night. My Master always knows how to put me to sleep.

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besanii · 4 years

Text

shifting ground

WangXian ; 1127 words

[previous parts linked at the end]

He arrives at bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne room just as everyone is disbanding; they trickle out of the building in groups of twos and threes, heads bent close together and mouths too preoccupied with gossip to pay attention to his hurried ascent. Snatches of their conversations enter his ear—words like “trial” and “ascension” and “purify” has his heart skipping a beat and his feet flying over the stairs two at a time as he races past them.

The world comes to a shuddering halt when Wei Wuxian appears at the top of the stairs.

He’s not sure how to quantify the time since they last saw each other. Where does he begin counting? From the moment Wei Wuxian had been taken away in chains and locked into the Demon Tower, or on the execution platform as he faded into dust in Lan Wangji’s arms with Bichen buried in his chest? Or does he start from the moment Wei Ying had turned his back and surrendered his life into Lan Wangji’s hands for the second time?

If the whole purpose of my life is to die here today, then that is what I’ll do.

He can still feel the sigh of those words against his lips, the press of a thumb against his cheek, the hitch in his voice. Every last detail of those final moments in the mortal realm is burned into his mind with excruciating clarity, seared into his bones, branded on his soul. He has been in existence for over a hundred thousand years, long enough to see past the trappings of mortality, past attachment, past death—and yet.

There is little trace of the young vermilion bird spirit in the Wei Wuxian who stands before him now, dressed in robes of black and red that ripple and fall about him like feathers. His grey eyes, once soft like clouds during a gentle autumn drizzle, are as dark as smoke and as hard as steel. They falter as they catch sight of him, still only halfway up the stairs, before shuttering closed, wary and uncertain.

His newly-restored heart beats feebly against his ribcage at the sight.

“Wei Ying.” He catches the spiritual energy radiating from him and stops, his heart in his throat. “You’re—”

Wei Wuxian smiles without humour, sliding his gaze away from Lan Wangji.

“I guess the trial you designed for me was more effective than intended,” he says.

He should be relieved, overjoyed that their plan had worked, that the sliver of the Demon God’s seal had been successfully purged from Wei Wuxian—that Wei Wuxian had ascended three ranks to become a High God, on par with Lan Wangji himself. But he finds he cannot muster even a tiny shred of happiness now, not when Wei Wuxian does not smile, and refuses to meet his eyes.

“Wei Ying,” he says, making his way up the stairs. “Wei Ying, I—”

Wei Wuxian flinches almost imperceptibly at the sound of the name, his hands curling into fists, lips pressing into a thin line. It is enough to freeze Lan Wangji in mid-step, the rest of his sentence teetering at the tip of his tongue.

“Begging your pardon, Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says. “I have only just returned from my trial and find myself in need of rest. Please excuse me.”

He crosses his hands, left over right, and presses his palms to his chest with a low bow—a formal bow, too formal for him to offer a fellow High God, even one with as much seniority over him as Lan Wangji—and moves past him, down the stairs. Lan Wangji’s hand shoots out instinctively to catch hold of his elbow as their shoulders brush, preventing him from leaving.

“I’ll have someone fix up your old rooms,” he tells him quietly, thinking of the cosy little annex in Fuyun Pavilion, still in the same condition as before his departure.

Wei Wuxian pries his arm out of Lan Wangji’s grip.

“Hanguang-jun is too generous,” he says, staring straight ahead, not sparing him a glance. “But I will be returning to the peach forest.”

There is little Lan Wangji can do to argue against this decision. It is only logical for Wei Wuxian to return to the peach forest, his childhood home. What right does Lan Wangji have to keep him here in the Nine Heavens with him?

“Let me accompany you.” He does not care if he sounds close to pleading as he turns his body towards Wei Wuxian, not when Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches as this moves him into his space. “Please.”

“Hanguang-jun—”

“Lan Zhan,” he corrects him. Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“Hanguang-jun,” he repeats firmly. “It would not be appropriate.”

Lan Wangji exhales.

“There was a time, not too long ago, when you would scoff at propriety,” he says. “And it would not be inappropriate for me to escort my intended back to his home.”

Wei Wuxian turns his head sharply to face Lan Wangji, grey eyes wide with shock; Lan Wangji looks back at him intently, his expression never once wavering.

“Words spoken in a previous life should stay in the past.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is small and brittle and hurt; he draws himself close, holds himself tighter within his body as he tears his eyes away again. “Hanguang-jun should not feel beholden to me.”

This time, when Lan Wangji takes another step towards him, he takes two steps back. Lan Wangji tries not to let his own hurt show.

“I am a man of my word,” he tells him. “It does not matter in which life the promise was made, only to whom. I made you a promise, Wei Ying, I vowed myself to you. So I am yours.”

He watches as Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter closed as a shudder runs through his body. But when he raises his hand to brush a stray wisp of hair from his cheek, Wei Wuxian avoids his touch and steps back even further.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, pained. “Don’t.”

Lan Wangji breathes an inward sigh of relief at the sound of his name from Wei Wuxian’s lips at long last.

“Wei Ying,” he says. “Please. Can we talk?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and turns away.

“I need time,” he tells him. “Give me some time.”

Then, without waiting for Lan Wangji’s response, he raises his arms and shifts into his original form, leaping into the sky and vanishing in a burst of flame.

Lan Wangji watches him go without a word.

If it’s time he needs, then Lan Wangji will give it to him. He has waited over a hundred thousand years for Wei Wuxian, what is a few hundred more in comparison?

Notes:

Follows on from Love and Destiny AU ficlet below, where LWJ has to kill a mortal WWX to help him reascend as an immortal:

https://besanii.tumblr.com/post/620336237706969088/he-watches-as-wei-ying-backs-away-from-him-the [copy/paste link]

And set some time before the other Love and Destiny AU ficlet where WWX carves out his heart to save LWJ and loses his memories in the process:

https://besanii.tumblr.com/post/621699777307033600/you-dont-love-me-anymore-for-wangxian-from-the [copy/paste link]

So technically...part two?

The tag is now shifting ground fic

Title is from the idiom 翻云覆雨 (fanyunfuyu, to produce clouds with the turn of one hand, and rain with the other), meaning to shift one’s ground or to be contradictory

One day I will stop writing AUs of the Three Lives Three Worlds dramas, but today is not this day. Also, I’ve decided that Love and Destiny > Peach Blossoms > Pillow Book in my heart.

master post and ko-fi link on my sidebar!

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #love and destiny au #🔪🔪#phoenix!wwx #dragon!lwj #shifting ground fic #lan wangji #wei wuxian #翻云覆雨

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fluffybunnyartist · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Again I can't get enough!! I really appreciate you putting Actually time and effort into our asks! My ask! Can we get a Michael Myers (other SLASHERS) as a meaner more scary yandere?? Like just a more realistic darker version of them with a cute innocent S/O NSFW IF YOU WANT!! AGAIN NO RUSG

Hell ya!! NSFW: Blood, gore, implied sex and noncon.

MICHAEL MYERS

Whatever you did to catch this man's attention you're either one lucky bastard or one unfortunate SOB. Hes extremely possessive and in the first day of him showing you your his you'll be covered in hickies.

You can kick and scream all you want. He has you in his clutches and he needs you. You better learn how to behave. He doesnt like hurting you but will if you dont act nicely.

Friends? Murdered. Family? Pushed away. Any boyfriend/girlfriend? Killed 3 days ago. No one is allowed near you unless you're working or buying groceries. He does know when to let it go.

God forbid anyone flirt or bully you. They're tortured and killed. Only he can do that. Speaking of which his idea of flirting is stealing or murdering people for what he needs for you. That rich family down the street? Murdered and you got some nice shiny jewelry covered in blood.

Now he will wait for consent to fuck you. Hes not a complete monster and you're the only one he loves. But he will grope you, rub up against you and mark you however he pleases. When he kisses you he doesnt expect you to kiss back. Just sit back and take it. Hes still a dom but hes a bit cold. You talked to a cashier for too long and hes left you naked tied to the bed with a vibrator in for an hour.

All in all you're his little doll and hes never loved anyone like you. Just let me play with you Y/N, you'll enjoy it I promise.

JASON VOORHEES

He'd tear anyone to shreds to get to you. You remind him a bit of his mother, so sweet and kind and he wants you. He needs you. So everyone else is slaughter with blood and guts sprayed across the cabin and campgrounds as he carries you to his place.

He ties you up to a bed and a chair during the day so you can sleep at night. Hes very kind, despite slaughtering your friends. He'll treat you like a delicate bird or baby deer. Petting you softly and feeding you from his own plate.

Stay in Pamela's good graces. Mainly be nice to her boy! Dont do drugs and no escaping! If you try he wants hurt you. He'll put you into a timeout. Do it too many times and he'll bend you over his knee and spank you li km e a naughty child. So you're not in much danger.

He's very sweet to you once you get to know him but like Michael he refuses to let anyone come over or near you. He'll chase everyone away. You dont need them, Y/N! All you need is me. He loves to cuddle you. Sweet little pets and even kisses.

Hes more likely to take off the mask if you've earned his trust or promise kisses. Then he'll stay unmasked around you. But only you! He doesnt really make you work but he does appreciate if you clean house a bit.

He always makes sure to have consent before touching you any where other than your hair. He doesnt wanna upset you.

THOMAS HEWITT

Something about you caught his eye. And now here you are at dinner. With your dead friends seated on one side and the large man wearing you best friends face on the other.

Be kind. Dont insult them or itll lead to you being punished. Thomas already made clear that he wants you and he wants you alive so they wouldn't risk killing you but being forced to do hard labor and chopping your friends up for dinner isnt killing you.

He'll spoon feed you the stew made of people. And at dinner you're tied down until further notice. After that you'll be tied to Thomas's bed. He'll feel up on you and touch you no matter how much you squirm. He just cant believe a beautiful creature such as yourself is in his bed. Laying with him!

He likes to cuddle you a lot and he'll grind on you and hump you a ton. Hes never had a sexual outlet before so it's a common occurrence when he just masturbates over your naked body. He loves seeing the look on your face as he cums all over you.

He may actually fuck you without your consent. You're his right? His to take? And he loves you so much. He promises to make you feel good. Just let him in.

BUBBA SAWYER

The fact that you survived one dinner is enough for Bubba to make you his. He'll give you plenty of kisses straight off the bat. He makes sure you're fed and bathed. Usually you're tied up for these.

He doesnt talk so it hard to understand him but he likes to cuddle with you. Sometimes if you cut yourself or get cut he'll lap up the blood and sometimes he likes to bite you.

He can and will kill and eat your friends. If you try to run away or escape you leg or legs may be butchered or mutilated courtesy of Drayton telling Bubba that he needs to so you dont run away again.

Now he'll probably fuck you while you sleep or are so tired you dont know what's going on. He's not so great on consent but that's bc if his upbringing and not out of malice or need to prove your his.

Probably one of the more innocent ones and the only reason he harms you or does freaky shit is bc of his brothers. He likes to make you jewelry out of body parts or steal some from victims.

He'll have Drayton marry you too so you both can have kids together! And he wants lots of kids! He's so happy he found you!

BO SINCLAIR

You're tied up in the chair until you can behave yourself. You get bathroom breaks but only he can take you and hes right inside with you. He'll face the other way he just doesn't want you escaping.

He'll gag you if you keep making noise. He wont glue your lips together bc what if he scars them? You're his perfect little doll. He doesnt want you too injured. So stop struggling in those bindings Y/N. It wont help.

Within the first few days he'll be on top of you grinding and groping. Touching you wherever he can. He loves your body and he wants to make you feel good. Dont you wanna make him feel good too?

Hes aggressive though. He may love you but he wont hesitate to scream or yell at you if hes thinking you're acting like a bitch. Hell come back later being softer and kissing you.

He'll get you to marry him. How can you say no to him? He'll take care of you and your kids! Hes so excited to get his little nuclear family started! After the chair you'll be chained up in his room. Maybe he'll take you for a drive if your good. But hes another one to lock you down fully or cause it so you cant escape.

No he wont cut off your limbs! But maybe if you cant see the exit you wont be able to leave him. Remember even though he loves you he still gets off on your pain a bit.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

More or less Bo thought you'd be good for him and he locked you in the studio where Vincent spends all his time. At first he doesnt know what to do. He leaves you food and water and let's you use the restroom but ues not sure.... but you are really pretty.

Awkward cuddling. Usually when you're asleep he'll nuzzle up to you gently. He doesnt wanna wake you but he wants to be close to you. He'll start drawing you and soon he'll be enamoured with you.

During the day hes polite and kind and offers you things to keep yourself occupied. But at night he let's his fingers and lips wander wherever he wants. Usually you tire yourself out by crying or trying you escape. So you're really conked out by the time he starts to touch you.

He wont mutilate you if you try to escape no. He'll cripple you. He can just carry you where you need to go. He can help you with whatever you want! He can bring you food and water! You can have everything you've ever wanted! But you have to stay here with him.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer #michael myers x reader #michael myers #jason vorhees x reader #jason voorhees #jason vorhees imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher

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jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

Text

Scuttle (3/?)

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything?

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quiet as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you.

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction.

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother.

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself.

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker.

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk, to just scoop you up and hide you from the world.

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’ Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return.

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother.

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment.

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure.

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you.

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him.

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you dont push further.

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic.

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck.

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?” You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see the huge rifle strapped to his back.

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you’re guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are.

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair.

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree.

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like. Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless.

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second.

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest.

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake.

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name.

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted.

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken.

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.”

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little.

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.”

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush.

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts.

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap.

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are.

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk.

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him.

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket.

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it.

#star wars #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x oc #the clone wars #clone troopers #clone wars x reader #clone x reader #bad batch #bad batch x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #sergeant hunter #clone trooper tech #wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #star wars fanfiction

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yandereaffections · 5 years

Text

Yawning as you walk into the room a little after sebastian left you, reaching out for him leaning against his shoulder watching your daughter scribble another drawing onto the sketchbook sebastian got for her "alright baby girl its night night time, start cleaning everything up for bed." Smiling as she whines a bit before collecting all the crayons off the floor

Looking up at sebastian noticing he seems concentrated on what hes holding, eyebrows knitted together with a frown plastered across his face making you curious "what are you looking at?" Tugging the papper to thw side a bit so you could see "aw is this one of her drawings?"

"Something wants you, it told our child that hes their new father and is willing to kill me to fill that position." Voice stern and straight forward as sebastian tears up the paper throwing it aside into the trashcan, swapping behavior sweetly cooing at your baby girl as he leads her to bed wishing her a goodnight before walking out of their room with you

whatever concerns you may have are smothered away within his comfort, assuring you that hes more than capable of protecting you from some pest that holds a empty threat towards him

Nights going by with no comeback of the situation you both have been so cautious on, the silence visibly unsettling you for the past several days as you take extra preparation towards the protection of your daughter

"Seb, ive been thinking and honeslty, wouldnt it be better for us to leave? Maybe rent a house in the city where its hard not to make a scene? Our baby girl would get to make some friends too." A slight sigh pasted sebastians lips as he observed you for a second before leaning over to kiss your forehead, covering you and his girl who sit next to him on the couch with a blanket "theres no point in running away, let them come to us i will take care of it, just stand your ground with me dear"

Humming out in understanding yet still hesitant, your daughter absent mindedly watching the cartoons with no worry of whats happening not even remembering the picture she made with her 'new dad'

"Why is the tv doing that mom?" Tugging onto your sleve catching both of your attentions towards the screen thats all glitched out and distored before sebastian switches it off suddenly declaring it bed time, pulling you both up from the couch ignoring any of your confused comments as your both guided towards the room you share with sebastian,

Leaning over to you whispering "itll be quick, dont leave this room" ruffling up his baby girls hair saying good night as he closes the door, and thats all youve heard from outside the room ever since then

Silence becoming overwhelming as you strain to hear whats happening outside, window only showing the beautiful view of what the night time has to offer that doesnt manage to calm your nerves while your child stirs in the sleep besides you on the bed, mummbling out gibberish that distracts you from focusing on anyother possible noise that might tell you if sebastians ok

Hours pass in the darkness of the room that slowly lured you to sleep dispite your anxieties, the calm pace of your breaths filled the room too deep in sleep to hear the multiple bangs against the brick exterior of the outside of the house before silence hangs through the air once more

Waking up to the light of the sun reflecting off the bedroom walls with the gentle morning breeze bringing in the soothing sounds of the birds outside, sebastians forehead pressed agaisnt your own with his baby girl cuddled inbetween you two with her blanket wrapped around her, his red eyes peering into your own with adoration for the soul he sees behind them "i think shell be just fine with one father, dont you?" A stupid comment resulting in your joyous laughter shifting yourself up to him careful not to bother your daughter, kissing him

"What happened i was so worried," carressing this cheek against your palm as a smile pulls the corner of his lips "i wouldnt want to worry you anymore so i wont tell you darling," sneaking another kiss from you "dont go in the shed for awhile"

#i didnt want to be too specific so i did readers pov #black butler sebastian #black butler #yandere black butler #sebastian michaelis imagine #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #yandere sebastian michaelis #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #yandere sebastian #sebastian bb #yandere bb #bb #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere headcannons

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt5

Warnings: Micah, violence

Part 4 & Masterlist

Part 6

Truth be told, after a week of being shunned by everybody except Arthur, you were starting to miss life as an O’Driscoll. Sure, they were slimy and smelly and brash and cruel, but they would at least excrete some sense of comradery alongside the shit they gave you.

You were used to being an oddball. Mocked for your smooth face, you insisted on a past life as a talented barber. If anyone cracked a shot at your wide hips, you placed a precise amount of lead in a non vital limb as warning to copycats. The terror of being discovered earned you a streak of being ruthless, which is how you climbed the ranks and managed to squeeze out regular breaks every few weeks.

The Van der Linde crap was something else though. The women pressing their lips together, the men spitting threats when Arthur’s out of earshot… Everybody was giving the two of you a wide berth and Arthur’s heavy sigh whenever he noticed someone acting colder than they had before didn’t do much to comfort you. This hurt on a personal level. You were the talk of this small town, but there was no house to take refuge in and no brick walls to keep the whispers out. Instead, you were sat on display with a billowing cotton sheet for privacy at best.

“They’ll get over it,” Arthur assures you daily. “They did with Kieran.”

Kieran Duffy - his whole corpse shook like the last leaf in autumn during a tornado. If your pulse was personified it would shake less, even when someone throws out a casual threat. Your feelings towards the man vary from disgust of his betrayal to rabid jealousy of him being able to live a life here without a bodyguard. As much as you appreciate your lover’s constant presence dissuading others from picking a fight, his protective streak was growing old.

Eventually, Hosea intervenes Arthur on his return coffee trip. Judging from Arthur’s glare, and the way he keeps looking back to you, it’s about a job that needs to be done. You know for a fact that money is thin on the ground - you’ve heard Miss Grimshaw berating the other men in camp about it, hissing with venum whenever they dare complain about picking up the slack.

After returning from another vain bathroom break (despite having little to no weight to push on your bladder, somehow your ability to retain liquids has diminished to that of a newborn yourself), you find Arthur gathering supplies.

“Won’t be long,” he assures you, a gentle kiss on your lips, squeezing your hand as he picks up his satchel. “Some feller other side of Valentine owes us money. I gotta go deal with him, but when I get back I was thinkin’ we could get outta here, do some huntin’ or somethin’, what you reckon?”

“Sounds great!” You force yourself to grin despite your stomach sinking faster than a wounded elk. Something in his eyes betrays his own attempt at make believe, jovially mounting his mare and galloping away with a small wave.

“New to camp?”

You look up as threateningly as you can. A man with sharp cheekbones and a thick dark beard is grinning at you jovially.

“Don’t get ya knickers in a twist - I ain’t gonna stab you or nuttin.” He holds out a grubby hand. “Name’s Peader.”

“Peter?” you repeat.

His eyes crumple with his chuckle. “Aye, if that’s easier for youse.”

You swear as you stick your thumb with the needle. You were better at gutting fish than needlework, and no one ate the fish you gutted. Seemingly tired of washing out more bloodstains, Miss Grimshaw calls you over to a wash basin to begin laundry.

“No heavy liftin’!” she snaps as you kneel on the ground beside the tub. “If you need somethin’ heavy movin’, you shout someone, y’hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply. You’ve overheard the other women in camp complaining about how bossy she is, but you find comfort in it - no matter how stern she can be, she never treats you differently for your time with Colm. For that, no matter how small, you can’t help but be grateful.

“It’s nice not to be the youngest for once.”

You stiffen. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I’m a hairy one for fifteen but-” Peter rubs the hair of his jaw pointedly and it knocks you sick. Two hours into this crazy life and you’re already found. What will they do to you now?

“Fifteen?” you repeat incredulously.

A belly laugh bubbles from his mouth. “Aye. Me balls dropped before I was walkin’, unlike youse. How old are you anyways, Thomas?”

“Fourteen,” you blurt out, your stomach dropping with every lie. At least you have a comrade to hide behind now. After all, this works better than the truth, and should hopefully buy you time until Heidi gets here.

You get to work, hating how the detergent creates a thick layer of slime over your skin. Even as your knuckles protest, you scrub until your arms ache, working out your frustrations against the ridges of the washer board. You keep your eyes down, your ears perked for any hint of ambush - but it still takes you by surprise when a pair of spurs stop too close for comfort.

“Ahh, Guinevere! We meet again!”

If anyone is hurt because of your actions, I’ll put a bullet in you.

You bite your tongue, wringing out a pair of Dutch’s trousers. You can feel the dead grey stare boring it’s way into your head before slowly sweeping over your body.

“Heard Ol’ Morgan’s knocked you up.” Micah chuckles, stepping forward to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear, but you flinch at the contact. “But I ain't above tryin' again.”

Blood is roaring in your ears as your body tries to decide between fight and flight. Somewhere you can hear someone shouting, but it’s lost to the ripple of goosebumps up your back as he closes in on you.

“Whaddaya say, hmm?”

“I said leave her alone, dammit!”

“Oh, Miss Roberts,” he purrs, finally stepping back. “Of course you may join us. We were thinking about making it a party. Mom’s club, right? I mean, John and Arthur ain’t here, and since Jenny coulda been carrying Micah Bell IV, I guess it’s only fair I play the part of Daddy.”

You try to continue with the washing, but Abigail is tugging you to your feet by the back of your dress.

“In your dreams, Micah,” she snarls, pushing you to her tent where young Jack is drawing in the dirt with a stick. “Arthur’s gonna kick your ass from here to California if you keep hasslin’ her.”

“No need to get jealous, Abigail. I know it’s been a while since John’s taken to you. Where is he anyhow? Has he found himself a new whore to impregnate?”

“Piss off!”

He tuts, moustache twitching. “Now, that ain’t nice. I mean, can’t be worse than an O’Driscoll, can it? Poor Morgan. Just when you think he’s hit rock bottom, he just keeps rollin’, doesn’t he?”

“Bell!”

He turns into Arthur’s fist with a crunch. His horse is trotting away from the ruckus, the other men in camp hurrying over as Arthur straddles his swollen stomach and begins pummelling him with his fists.

“MR MORGAN!” cries Dutch, moustache twitching with fury. “What is going on?”

Bill tries to pull him off, but Charles pushes him aside, wrapping his arms around his middle and hoisting him to his feet.

“He’s not worth it,” Charles murmurs softly as he sets him down facing the other way.

“If you have somethin’ to say to her, you can say it to my face!” Arthur spits over his shoulder, fists still clenched, his breathing heavy although calming energy is flooding him from Charles’ touch.

“What has gotten into you?” demands Dutch, striding up with Hosea at his side.

“I come back in, after leaving her for an hour and Micah’s already slimed over!”

“A pretty bird like that - you can’t know she’ll come back to you until you set her free,” says Micah thickly, holding his sleeve against his nose.

“You’re a damn cockroach!”

“Alright, alright, everyone calm down!” Dutch surveys the crowd. “Micah. A word? And Arthur - why are you back so soon?”

“Feller’s croaked.” He glares at Strauss who’s working nearby. “He needs to be more careful who he loans to. Got the impression I weren’t the first to demand payment. Bastard owes more than he could’ve ever paid up.”

Dutch breathes out hard through his nose. "Well you better find the money from somewhere, son."

Shrugging Charles off with mumbled excuses, he all but flies to your side. “Y’alright? He didn’t hurt either o’ you, did he?”

“You think he’d still be here if he had?” Miss Roberts rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Abigail,” he mutters when he’s assured himself you are completely unscathed. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. He’s had it comin’ for god knows how many weeks - here’s hopin’ he don’t go forgetting his lesson too soon.”

"I mean… well you know what I mean." He gives you a squeeze before heading after Strauss. “Gimme five minutes, Y/N, and we’ll head out.”

“Alright,” you reply, brushing off your skirts with a hesitant look up to your saviour. “Thank you for… that.”

"You dont talk much do you?" Her blue eyes are sharp, squinting at you suspiciously when you shrug.

"Reckon it's better I keep my mouth shut," you admit.

She thinks about this before nodding in agreement. "For future reference, nobody is gonna think bad of you if you call Micah out on his crap. He ain't too popular round here."

"Ok."

"And another thing?" She checks Arthur is still busy with Strauss before leaning in closer. "If you hurt him, you'll be lucky if Micah gets to you first,” she hisses. “We clear?"

You nod as fervently as you can until she waves a hand to dismiss you.

"Enjoy your evening, Y/N."

****

Riding out with Arthur, the tension you hadn't realised was being contained in your shoulder muscles rolls off of your body. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, your cheek resting in the middle of his shoulders. He tilts his head back to touch more of you as you descend down the side of the hill towards West Elizabeth.

He insists on setting up camp whilst you start fishing in Dakota's River. Eventually he plonks himself on the bank beside you, a foot of space between your bodies as he also pulls out his rod and sets to baiting.

You sit in the quiet, enjoying each other's presence without complications.

"You, sir, are a fish!" he grins as he pulls in a fat bass.

"Do you always compliment your prey?"

"I pay compliments where they're due, beautiful."

You laugh, casting out again.

"How was it today? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who? Micah?" You twitch the rod. "No. You came back before it got out of hand."

"Everyone treat you ok?"

You shrug. What is there to say? No one trusts you. Half would be happy if you were still bound to the trunk. In all honesty you can't blame them; you yourself are struggling to trust them and there are times when you would rather be tied to a tree so you don't have to watch your back.

"Listen. We got word that one of the fellers from the ferry is being moved outta state." He reels in another fish much to your dismay. "Javier and Charles have already headed down there to scope it out, but Dutch is wantin' me to go after them, check it's ok."

You say nothing, knowing he isn't finished yet.

"I'd be gone a couple days. Maybe more, but I doubt it. The boys should have done the leg work by now, so it should be a matter of grabbing him and getting gone."

"Do what you have to do." You give him a small smile. "Won't do us no good if they think I'm turning you against them."

"True, but that won’t stop me." He stares you out with his handsome gaze. "Say the word and I'll stay. They won’t miss me much, I'm just an extra gun."

"Take your guns and go stretch your legs. I can look after myself."

"And the baby?"

"I can care for the wee O'Driscoll wain, aye," you tease.

He chuckles. “You been listenin’ to Miss Molly?”

“More like I’ve been surrounded by all manner of irish men til you lifted me out of there.” You twitch your rod again, gasping joyfully as you feel a tug.

“You think they’re missin’ you? Them O’Driscoll boys?” he asks as you land an underwhelming pickeral.

“There were too many of us,” you admit with a shrug, offering him a small reassuring smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve ceased to exist to them. All those times you and I were together, none of ‘em recognised me for who I really was. They might comment, sure, but to be fair it’s real easy to lose track of who you have and haven’t seen. No one’s blown a whistle about Kieran going missing and he’s been with you how many weeks?”

He chuckles softly, eyes sad. “I didn’t mean missin’ you as a gun. You not make any friends?”

“It- It isn’t the same as what you’ve got.” You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat as you cast out again with what you hope to be a more tempting chunk of cheese. “Most of them, the way they talk about women… it’s enough to know you’ve got a spare gun in a fight. No more.”

***

Arthur leaves early the following morning. He leaves a heavy kiss on your lips, his eyes burning into you, swearing an unspoken oath that if anything happens whilst he's away, the devil himself will not stomach the consequences.

As much as Hosea has accepted himself as your guardian, he is often guarding the rest of camp like some over tired dad. To avoid another Micah situation, if not separated in Arthur's tent, you hover near him or the other women despite their dirty looks. Abigail appears to tolerate you, but Mary Beth is the only other woman in camp actively throwing you a smile. The blonde - Mrs Adler - seems to hate you the most. If you get too close, her arms shake from clenching her fists so hard.

"Are you a real life O'Driscoll?"

Pulled from your thoughts, you find yourself eye to eye with the little boy who’s still sniffling after being sick a few weeks ago.

“How’d you mean?”

“Mama said Uncle Arthur brought another O’Driscoll back.”

You huff, uncomfortable of the gossip going around. “I was. I’m not now, though. I’m one of you now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You look around for his mother but come up empty. “Because if I was, I’d still be tied to the tree.”

“But why?”

“Because the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes aren’t friends.”

“Why?”

You resist rolling your eyes and instead send a prayer up to the heavens, marking it as urgent before you throw this boy off the cliff. “Because Dutch wasn’t very nice to Colm, and when Colm wasn’t nice to Dutch, he didn’t like it, and they decided you had to be on one side or the other.”

“Which one are you?”

“I’m a Van der Linde now, like you.”

“But Mama said-”

“I mean, I live with you now. With Dutch. Not Colm.”

He thinks on that, and the moment’s reprise is heavenly. You begin to hum to yourself, but are quickly interrupted.

“Ma said you tricked Uncle Arthur.”

“Did she?” you ask, too tired to be disappointed.

“Yeah. She and him talked a long time when you came back.” He’s picking the bark of his branch, dropping splinters into your shoes. “Mama said you was bein’ sneaky, but Uncle Arthur told her to get lost.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Is it true you’re gonna have a baby?” he asks brightly,

“Hopefully…” He frowns, confusion dimpling between his eyebrows. You realise that he is still in a place of innocence that the world is black and white. You swallow a lungful of air, trying to think how best to explain. “Something could happen yet- things go wrong sometimes and-”

“What sorta things?”

You tuck your hair behind your ears, poking at your stitching, wondering where the hell his mother has got to. “Well, it might not grow properly yet. Usually ladies don’t tell anyone until a bit further along… if I get sick, or if the baby gets hurt it might not… you know. It might not make it to being outside my tummy.”

“When will you know?”

“When it gets here I suppose.” You look up at the boy’s thoughtful expression. “Why so many questions? You excited?”

“Yeah! Ima be an uncle!”

“You’re a little young to be an uncle, kid.” You can feel your mouth pulling into a smile despite yourself. “You’ll be cousins though, I guess. Your pa and Arthur are brothers, right?”

“Right! So this is gonna be my brother?”

You stifle a laugh of disbelief. “Well we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet-”

“Do you got any brothers?”

“Jack! You playin’ hide and go seek again?”

“I’m here, Mama!”

Abigail rounds the tent, her expression darkening at the sight of you. You gulp, dropping your gaze back to your stitching, but the boy is already gushing about the new information you’ve taught him.

“Mama! She said she isn’t an O’Driscoll, so that means she can stay right?” He’s pulling on his mother’s skirts, pointing at you like you’re a bear behind bars. “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“Maybe,” you remind him with a little more force than intended.

Her blue eyes flash with suspicion before the tug attracts her attention again. “Jack, honey, the baby’ll be a cousin to you. For you to be a big brother, me and your pa would have to have another one of you.”

“You can do that?”

She gapes, a fish out of water. It’s painful to watch.

“This baby can be your brother or sister,” you splutter, more to the mother than her son. “I mean, Arthur’s your pa’s big brother right? But they don’t have the same mom and dad so if you love them enough, I don’t see the harm.”

He’s looking up with his big eyes until Abigail offers you a half smile. “Right,” she confirms, crouching down and straightening his little coat. “You’re gonna be a big brother. Uncle Arthur’ll be mighty proud of you.”

“Can I go play?”

“Sure, Jack.” She watches as he runs off, dragging his stick behind him. Slowly she turns to you, arms folded across her chest. “He weren’t botherin’ you, was he?”

“No, no, of course not!” At least, he isn’t now.

“I- I’m sorry if he was bein’ nosy. It’s alright to tell him to butt outta your business if he gets a bit much. He heard me talkin’ with Arthur ‘bout it all-”

“Yeah he said,” you say as offhandedly as you can manage. You notice her teeth pulling on her lip out the corner of your eye, but you don’t react. Keep your hands clean, you tell yourself, tying a knot and cutting the thread. Keep your nose out. Wait for Arthur.

“How are you feelin’? About it all?”

You look up, surprised by her gentleness after the cold front that’s been hitting you on repeat from every member of camp. Exhaling thoughtfully, you shrug, not objecting as she pulls over a chair to sit down at the edge of the tent. “Alright, I guess. Gotta just… see what happens, I suppose.”

“That’s what Arthur said.” She offers you a small sympathetic smile. “He ain’t usually one for whistlin’, but he ain’t stopped since we got off them mountains. Thought it was the change of weather, but I suppose, looking back, it was meetin’ you.”

Colour blossoms in your cheeks as you look away. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t exactly been in the best of moods the past couple of weeks.”

“He’s pleased,” she assures you quietly, her eyes bright and earnest with honesty. “I think he’s just nervous like you are, that it might not work out, but I known him long enough to tell you I ain’t seen this side to him since Jack was first born.”

Your ears prick. “He isn’t-?”

“No! No, Jack is a Marston, I got no doubt at all about that. I just remember him bein’ real pleased when Jack was a baby. He- Being a father is something he- he’ll enjoy I’m sure.”

“I know about Isaac,” you breathe quietly and she lets out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh good! I was worried I’d said too much.”

“Don’t worry. He told me in the doctor’s when-” You shake your head of the memory. “Anyway. I know he’s not sure about it all.”

“He will be.” She gives you a sincere smile. “He’s a worrier, even if he tries not to show it. He’ll be better when it’s here, safe and sound. Anyways - I best leave you rest.”

“Sure.” You hesitate before calling out to her, making her turn back. “Thank you,” you call, not really sure how better to express yourself. She smiles and gives you a wave of understanding.

“I’ll see you around.”

#red dead fic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #meowdymista #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

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