#finished Fallen Order for the third time

[foreingersgod]

hellooo! i loveddd ur cc country reader fic. do u think u could do one like that but with kate? hope ur doing okay!! <3

If She Ever Leaves Me . KM

pairing: country!kate martin x country wife!reader

synopsis: country kate <3

A/N: this is quite literally my favorite song of all time, lesbian country has a special place in my heart so i’m so excited for you guys to read this one!

word count: 6.2k

I see you watch her from across the room

Dancing her home in your mind

you were from another world, kate was convinced. dolled up in your red gingham sundress, the one lined with ivory lace and a sweet little bow that sat in between your breasts. your cowboy boots clunked rhythmically against the wooden boards on the old bars floor as you danced to the music. you had once had a drink in your hand, a fruity little cocktail because you couldn’t handle the strong stuff like kate did. but the glass was long forgotten when you left your girlfriends company to join in on the line dance.

kate remained seated on the leather bar stool, her own pair of boots propped up on the foot rest. her elbow was leaned up against the varnished bar as she swirled her drink mindlessly. her attention was no longer on the ice that slowly melted within the glass, but on you, in the midst of the friday night bustle. she had brought you to the bar just like she did every weekend, a small tradition you adopted when you first started dating. you had fallen in love with the small little town and the cozy bar within it and found yourself most happy in the musical chaos of it all.

while she loved seeing you out there in your element, she couldn’t help but wish you’d stay right there next to her. her heart turned to mush at the way you would smile, flash your pearly whites as you sung along to the music. she loved how your dress twirled around your calves as you spun around in circles, your voluminous hair bouncing behind you. but she hated how you were so far, wanting to see that charming smile and those gorgeous locks up close for herself. she couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there for all eyes to see. hated how any man or woman could claim you as theirs in their minds.

kate was aware of your immense beauty, knew how especially the men liked to gaze in your direction. you were a sight for sore eyes, not even having to lift a finger to attract the attention of everyone in town. and while kate did get jealous, seeing how the single folk in the bar constantly asked you to dance or buy you a drink, she knew you’d never cave. your love for kate was outstanding and hardly likely to dissipate over a few drinks offered by lonely cowboys. they could continue to stare at you, imagine dancing with you all they wanted. but she knew it was her, at the end of the night, that got to take you home and settle between your thighs.

Well, it takes more than whiskey to make that flower bloom

By the third drink you'll find out she's mine

“good evening, missy” a deep voice slurred from behind you “i saw ya over there dancin’ and was hopin’ i could buy ya a drink?”

you had just returned to your seat next to kate at the bar, almost winded from all the dancing. a small film of sweat lingered on your forehead as you plopped down, adjusting the skirt of your dress. kate’s hand found its way to the divot of your hip without a second thought. she ordered you a brand new drink once she noticed you reaching for hers, letting you finish off her whiskey was a recipe for disaster. the bartender poured your drink as kate leaned in to kiss your blushed cheek, listening to you rave about the excitement on the dance floor. it wasn’t until your drink was passed to you, pausing your conversation, that you were suddenly interrupted.

“oh,” you licked your lips, the salt from the rim of your glass sticking to your upper lip. you turned around to face the stranger to see it was a taller and quite older man. he was muscular and burly, a thick beard embellishing his face. not that it would sway your opinion, but he was no different than the rest of the men who thought they had a chance with you “no thank you”

the man seemed to be taken aback, nose scrunching in disgust. he shook his head and and rolled his eyes, large hands coming up to rub his jaw. he inched closer to you, broad shoulders on the brink of colliding with your back. kate immediately noticed this, tightening her grip on you as she shot a stern glare his way.

“no?” he scoffed “it’s just a drink, lady”

“look i’m just not interested alright?” you sneered, trying not to be too harsh and make a scene in the midst of the busy bar.

“and why’s that, huh? i’m a nice, good lookin guy. what’s your fuckin problem?” he spat at you, near slamming his fist on the bar. this triggered something in kate, causing her to leap from her seat in anger. but you placed your hand on her chest, sending her a look to tell her that you had it under control. she looked back at you, then back at the guy in conflict. kate was more than ready to put that guy in his place, to claim you as hers and teach him a lesson. but she also knew you took satisfaction in telling these men off, ultimately deciding to take a seat and observe.

“i’m happily taken, i’ll have you know” you motioned to kate “i appreciate the offer, but i would appreciate it even more if you apologized and left us alone”

kate smirked, seeing his expression fall. it was always so gratifying to see these people learn that you were in love with someone else, and a woman at that. she tipped the rim of her cowboy hat mockingly at him, her way of making her presence known. the man cleared his throat, now embarrassed as he took his hand away from the bar and took a step back.

“you-uh-you’re right, ma’am” he mumbled, digging his hands into his pockets “m’sorry ladies, have a nice night”

he shuffled away in humiliation, probably on his way to pester some other woman he thought he could seduce. you watched him bump into a few people before he disappeared into the ever growing crowds. you sighed in relief, taking another swig of your drink.

“he not your type?” kate snickered, smirking at you teasingly before finishing off her own drink.

“shut up,” you laughed as you smacked her shoulder lightly. you turned on the stool, rusty metal squeaking loudly as you came to face her. nimble fingers came up to move a strand of hair away from her face “you know i only have eyes for you”

“you’re somethin else, ya know that?” she groaned, noticing the way you bit your lower lip and batted your lashes at her.

“i do,” you leaned in to place a small kiss to her lips “but you love it”

I've loved her in secret

I've loved her out loud

“can we just stay like this forever?” you asked, resting your head against kate’s shoulder as you let your eyes close.

these were your favorites moments. sitting on the porch swing with kate as the sun went down, crisp summer air swooshing past you. the sky glowed pinks and oranges, reflecting onto the home you shared on this secluded farm. the chains of the swing creaked with each push, kate’s bare foot touching the floorboards just enough to rock you back and forth. crickets and other little critters sounded from the fields in front of you as the evening fell upon the town. the grasses and weeds of the crops whistled in the wind, adding to the noise. kate hummed an unknown tune-probably some song she heard on the radio weeks ago-as she draped an old knit blanket across your laps.

“mhm,” her hand wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you closer into her side to keep you warm. her fingers toyed with the fraying ends of your sleeve, an old country singer tee shirt that you stole from her drawer one day “then i’d get to keep ya all to m’self”

“you already got me to yourself, kate” you chuckled softly, nuzzling your nose into her neck.

“yea,” she continued “but here? it’s jus the two of us. no drunks at the bar, no assholes givin us a hard time in town…it’s just you, me, and the farm. everything i’ve ever wanted’s right here”

you smiled against her shoulder, feeling the rough material of her flannel shirt on your lips. kate was the biggest sweetheart, was always vocal on her appreciation for this life. it was true, everything she wanted was right here. she was never set on a busy life at all. as long as she had her woman, her animals, her crops, and most likely her guitar (because how else would she serenade you on quiet nights like these), then she’d never need anything else. you were her entire world, what made her the person she is. she’d do anything to keep this life with you.

“mmm,” you sighed, another breeze lulling you into sleep “i love you s’much, kate”

“i love you too, darlin” she confessed, sensing your drowsiness “more than you know”

The sky hasn't always been blue

It might last forever

Or it might not work out

her back ached, her feet hurt, and her head pounded with the memories of your conversation this morning. kate had never meant to say what she did, and now she beating herself up at the thought of hurting you.

she had woken up at the same time she always did, quietly padding out of bed and into the connected bathroom as to not wake you. you hated early mornings so kate normally let you sleep while she did her morning farm chores. in return, you’d clean the house, run errands, and you often helped kate with anything she was behind on. it was a fair trade off and the routine worked for you, so there were hardly any issues during the countless years you’ve been together.

but for some reason, everything seemed to have gone wrong this morning. kate’s alarm didn’t go off so she was late to milk the cows, causing her to go behind schedule by at least 45 minutes. the water heater apparently stopped working, she ran out of toothpaste, and her favorite work pants had a pretty gnarly hole. then, she accidentally woke you up by knocking down some of her toiletries because she was in a rush. you were shocked to wake up to such chaos, trying to ask her what was wrong and asking if there was anything you could do to help. but rather than answer or kiss you goodbye and tell you she was in a rush, she snapped at you angrily before running out the door.

“can you just leave me alone? fuck” she had said, trying to pull her boot over her left foot “christ, i don’t have time for this, i gotta go”

the comment left you dumbfounded, disgusted by her tone. sure, there were times that kate got a bit angry and said something she didn’t mean, but it was never like this. she never said anything that directly offended you. plus, she always apologized if she hurt your feelings. this time, on the other hand, felt like a personal dig at you.

you laid in bed for a while as you replayed the scenario over and over in your mind. it had made you incredibly upset, knowing that she was somehow mad at you for asking if you could just help. eventually, you decided to just get up and get some work done throughout the house to try and take your mind off of it. but no matter what you did during the day, you couldn’t shake how terribly she made you feel. her words stuck with you like glue as you went about your daily chores.

the dishes were done and the floors were scrubbed spotless by the time dinner rolled around. you made your self busy with prepping the food as you waited for kate’s arrival. she typically finished around 5:30, but with her being in such a hurry, she most likely wouldn’t be back to the house until 6:30. so you focused on cutting the vegetables and marinating the meat until she was home.

kate, meanwhile, was finishing rounding up the horses. she so desperately wanted to go home, eat the delicious dinner you had made, and curl up under the covers with you while you read your book aloud to her. but now, as her hands grasped around the brass door knob of the front door, she realized that that may be harder to achieve than she had thought.

she was instantly met with discomfort the second she set foot in the house. the air felt heavier and the atmosphere was merely dimmer than it should be. the radio would often be playing somewhere in the kitchen, you could never get anything done without your old school tunes. her heart twinged at the loss of your humming, the sweetness of your voice nowhere to be found as she kicked off her boots and set them aside.

her legs dragged her into the kitchen where she spotted you silently chopping away at some peppers (the ones you had insisted you grow yourself, giving yourself yet another thing to tend to). you were still and quiet, not even so much as swaying your hips. she knew that you were upset right away. and you had every right, she admitted internally, her behavior this morning was uncalled for and she didn’t blame you.

“hey, baby” she mumbled, testing the waters. she wandered through the kitchen, making her way to the cabinet to grab a cup for a glass of water.

“hey” you murmured back in response. now it was the tone of your voice that stung kate. you didn’t bother to look at her, keeping your focus on the task at hand. but kate couldn’t bring herself to look away from you, instead she took the time to study the expression on your face and the movement of your body. you seemed stiff, muscles tense with irritation. the features of your face were soft-they always were-but now they were soft with disappointment. you were a headstrong gal, kate knew all too well, and would rather go all night completely mute than pretend like this morning never happened. so she decided to shrug off her guilt and pride and own up to her mistakes.

“darlin’?” she set the glass down on the counter top, no longer worried about the water. she came up behind you as you slowed the movements of your knife.

“hm?”

“m’sorry” she divulged, chest pressing against your back. her arms came to wrap around your torso as she let her head fall. her chin now rested on your shoulder, her nose nudging at the angle of your jaw “for what i said today, that wasn’t fair to ya. you were jus tryin’ to help”

you said nothing, pushing her off your shoulder as you resumed your chopping. the small action made kate’s insides churn. she tried again, this time placing a hand on your lower back and attempting to apologize once more, but she was swiftly shot down.

“thought you wanted me to leave you alone?” you taunted bitterly. you moved over to the stove and slid the diced vegetables into an already simmering pot. she sighed, scratching at the back of her neck.

“baby, i didn’t mean it” she pleaded “i’d never want you t’leave me alone, i was just upset and i lashed out. it was wrong of me”

“yea,” you laughed in disbelief, still moving restlessly around the kitchen to display your anger “it was”

“can you just-” she halted to try and find the right words “can you just stop for a second? please”

you set-more like carelessly tossed-your cutting board and knife back onto the counter. your head whipped in her direction, shooting her a dissatisfied glare. your sun kissed cheeks were down a darkened red and your brows furrowed downwards, your nose scrunched up and your tongue ran along the insides of your cheeks out of annoyance.

“i’m sorry, im so so sorry” kate continued once she realized you were listening “what i did was incredibly shitty and you don’t deserve that. i’m so grateful to have someone who is so willin to help me out and i took that for granted. but i promise i didn’t mean it at all and it won’t happen again”

she pulled her sweet puppy dog eyes on you, beautiful blue irises staring back at you. it genuinely seemed that she felt horrible. you knew kate like the back of your hand, knew that she definitely didn’t mean to say something like that. although, it had cut you deep in the heat of the moment and made you feel awful all day. but seeing her so distraught over this, now practically on her knees to beg for your forgiveness, it had you rethinking the validity of your coldness. you could never stay mad at her for long.

“it’s just-” you groaned, fingers coming up to rub at your temples “it just made me feel so mad and you ran out without even apologizing”

“i know, i know. i shouldn’t have done that” she gulped, hoping that you would come around “but i really don’t think i can stand ya bein’ mad at me any longer, baby. you gotta forgive me”

you chuckled at her urgency. it was true, she always felt lost when you were cross with her. a smile worked its way onto your face as you stepped towards her, throwing your arms around her neck. her arms tugged you in closer as she let out a sigh of relief.

“alright, you’re forgiven” you tilted your head “but, it better not happen again, got it?”

“got it. never again, i swear it”

you got up on your tip toes, your house slippers about to fall off your feet, to kiss her. before you could pull away, though, she had grabbed both sides of your face to kiss you even deeper. you moaned with surprise when her fingers threaded through your hair, tongue slipping into your mouth as she caught you off guard. you indulged in the kiss until you had to pull away for air.

“ok, cowboy” you breathed against her lips “you gotta let me go, dinners gonna burn”

“oh, m’never lettin you go ever again”

If she ever leaves me, it won't be for you

she sat back in her seat, an old wooden rocking chair that matched the one you were in. it was an oddly hot night this june even though the sun had set hours ago and the cold air from the lake was creeping closer. the heat from the bonfire in front of you only added the warmth.

this was one of your favorite things to do, sit outside on the small concrete patio kate had made, roasting marshmallows and taking turns on the guitar as a toasty fire crackled against the humid air. you had the acoustic instrument rested on your knee, a hand woven strap around your shoulder as you lightly plucked the strings rhythmically. you sang quietly along to a song as you looked off across the field and into the mountains, you were in your own world. kate was merely listening, too distracted by your beauty to sing along. the way your lips moved with each lyric, how your nearly manicured nails strummed against the guitar so smoothly.

“what?” she snapped from her trance, eyes blinking when she noticed you. she hadn’t realized you’d stopped singing, fingers no longer on the guitar. kate cleared her throat as she chewed on the insides of her cheek.

“s’nothin” her hair swaying against her shoulders whilst she shook her head “you’re just pretty s’all”

“oh stop” you giggled, the most infectious thing kate had ever heard. when she died, your laugh would be the last thing she’d want to hear “that’s the liquor talkin’, babe”

“definitely not,” she hated how you never believed her compliments, always denying your own beauty. but that just meant she got to compliment you twice as much to get you to buy into it “i could be sober forever and still think you’re the most breathtaking woman to grace the earth”

you had now set the guitar down, propping up against the varnished table between the rocking chairs, pushing yourself back and forth by the heel of your boot. you reached your arm over, fingers outreached to kate. she took your hand without hesitation, giving your hand a loving squeeze. the whites of your teeth shined through the darkening sky as you let yourself smile. you’d never get tired of the affection kate showered you with.

“you’re my everything” she whispered to you, thumb mindlessly stroking the backside of your hand.

“and you’re mine” you replied as you thought your conjoined hands up to your face, kissing her knuckles “my universe”

She loves Wild Horses and Tumbling Dice

She don't have a single tattoo

kate remembers the exact moment she met you. when she wandered into the quaint house of a close friend from college, noticing you right away. her friend, caitlin, was having a fairly large get together for her birthday: poker, beer, and pizza. kate typically hated going out and socializing, but rarely ever was she able to say no to good food and a cold glass of cheap beer. she debated not going for the longest time and instead having caitlin over one night for dinner to make up for her absence, not really wanting to get dolled up and leave the comfort of her home. but she forced herself to go anyways, turning the key in the ignition of her truck and making her way down the road.

boy was she glad she did.

you were like a rainbow in the midst of a storm, a rose among thorns sitting there leaned against the back of your chair. the moment caitlin had let her in the house, guiding her into the kitchen to grab her a drink, her eyes were glued to you. your hair was let down down, a leather cowboy hat resting atop your head with a think pink band wrapping around the base. a flannel that was far too big for you swallowed your upper half, leaving kate to only imagine what laid beneath it. she noticed your muddy jeans, how your velvety skin ran across the stiff denim when you doubled over in laughter. you were absolutely radiant, kate didn’t need much also to fall head over heels for you.

for the most part, she avoided you all night. her nerves were getting to her, not even having to talk to you to become riddled with anxiety. something about you enchanted her, drew her in like a moth to a flame, but she couldn’t bring herself to make an introduction. rather she lingered on the outskirts of the room as she made pointless conversation with mutual friends, eyes wandering just to get a glimpse of you every so often.

then, as kate was talking to small group of people in the living room, caitlin summoned everyone into the kitchen for the poker game. her heart began to race, watching as you followed the crowd of people to the dining room table. kate was the last to funnel through, finding herself straining her neck to find an open seat. and much to her luck, like a sign from the universe, the last open seat was directly next to you. maybe this was meant to be, written in the stars that she’d sit next to you tonight.

“hey,” she swallowed hard when she tapped on your shoulder, choking back a cough of uncertainty “d’ya mind if i sit, ma’am?”

you looked back behind you, eyes wandering up kate’s tall figure. you grinned, pulling out the chair a little more so she could sit down.

“not at all!” she squeezed in between you and the person next to her, arm brushing against yours electrically as she tried to find a comfortable position “i -uh-i don’t think we’ve met?”

“oh! yea no” kate felt like she was about to faint, she barely made it past the initial question and now she was already being forced into an introduction? “i went to college with caitlin, we’re pretty close buds, but um…i don’t go out much so i’m not around”

“really? that’s crazy you’ve known her for so long!” you said. kate would be forever grateful that you disregarded her awkwardness “i met her a while back when i first moved to town, she helped me get settled in and everything”

kate exhaled, the words spewing from your lips hardly retained as she was concentrated on your immense beauty. you voice sounded like honey, everyone else’s words becoming jumbled in the background.

“sorry, i didn’t even tell you my name,” you internally scolded yourself “i’m YN”

“s’nice to meet you, YN” she nodded, offering a calloused hand out to you. you gladly took it, dainty hand fitting perfectly into her much larger one “m’kate”

and just like that, such a simple introduction seemed to entice a years worth of conversation. throughout the entire poker game the two of you couldn’t seem to stop talking. to be truthful, kate threw the entire game in the first hand just so she could get out as soon as possible to talk to you. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same. this didn’t go unnoticed by caitlin (or any of the others for that matter), quickly catching on to how her best friend had stuck like glue to you. whilst the rest of them pushed around chips, threw down hards, and occasionally cussing over a bad hand, you and kate sneaked away to the backyard.

‘we’re just gettin’ some air, we’ll be back b’fore the games over’, she announced when caitlin asked why you both backed away from the table. caitlin nodded innocently, pretending she didn’t know your true intentions. she smiled smugly behind her cards as she watched kate open the back sliding door open for you, placing her hand on your hip to guide you in front of her. suddenly, caitlin felt like a matchmaker.

the air was still, crickets sounding loudly from deep under the trees and bushes of caitlin’s backyard. an owl cooed in the far distance, moonlight beating down onto the lush and green lawn. everything went silent when kate slid the door closed behind you. you were far too scared to say anything, opting to take a seat on the concrete steps and listen to the tranquil sounds of the south. kate plopped down next to you as she let her knee relax just enough to bump into yours. her lips parted, eyes locking with yours, elbows resting on her knees as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. she wanted to know everything about you, hear every story you had to tell. she had the unexplainable urge for you to consume her every being, needing to know what it was like to love you. she didn’t care you had just met, or that you were merely just talking, something inside her told her this was love at first sight.

she had only muttered something along the lines of ‘i think i could sit here all night with you’ before you were high off chitchatting once again.

maybe an hour passed, maybe 2, you weren’t quite sure. time seemed to stop as you sat there talking to kate, the sky growing darker with the lights inside being your only source of light. your butt stung from the roughness of the concrete, but the discomfort didn’t seem to cross your mind once as you babbled to kate about everything and anything. from childhood stories, to worse first dates, there didn’t seem to be a single topic left out of discussion.

in such a short amount of time, she learned so much about you. how much you adored animals, that you wanted to be a veterinarian when you were little but ultimately not having the money for college. she learned that you loved to bake and that’s why you moved out to town, to take over your great grandmas bakery on the edge of the valley. you told her about how your favorite thing to make was carrot cake and that you’d love to make one for her sometime, really just an excuse to see her again. she learned that you hated needles, that you’d wanted to get a tattoo last year but ended up chickening out before they could even lay down the stencil. even the little details, like your parents divorce or your close relationship with your brother, she came to know it all. and loved every bit of it. she had never felt so connected to a single soul in her entire life.

“wait wait wait,” kate threw her head back, throat bobbing as she laughed “there’s no way you did that!”

“it’s true!” you cackled, hand coming to grasp at your chest as you chuckled “i swear to god it’s true!”

“so you mean to tell me…” she tried to get the story straight, tongue darting out slightly as she processed what you had said “that you got chased down? by a wild horse?”

“yes! my friend bet me 20 bucks to try and get a stupid selfie with it-cause let’s be honest we were 16 and fucking idiots-and i spooked it from behind, and well…it chased me all the way back to my truck!”

“well you’re a hell of a lot braver than me, i woulda been knocked out cold within a second!” you snickered, luring the most mesmerized grin from kate. she looked back out into the yard when she sensed the mingling was dying down, the air going quiet once again. “you know i-um…this has been really nice, sittin here talkin to ya”

“yea,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, still looking at kate even though she had turned “it has”

“could be kinda up front with ya?” kate blurted. she had been contemplating it all night, asking you out and overcoming her fears. but the whole night she couldn’t see herself doing it. that was until now, the moment she understood how badly she needed to see you again.

“of course, kate”

“do you think i could get your number?” she might faint on the spot, the sudden sour of confidence could send her into cardiac arrest “i mean you definitely don’t have to give it t’me at all, i don’t know i just thought that-”

“kate,” you laid a hand on her shoulder to get her to ease up, she held her breathe in fear of your possible rejection “i would love to give you my number”

and just like that, the rest was history. she’d remember this moment forever.

She'll drink all the liquor and leave you the ice

kate leaned against the cedar post that held the rickety porch together, weathered and old from so many years of love. her boots, a new pair that you had gotten her for her birthday, left muddy prints on the slats underneath her. she had her arms folded across her chest as her fingers came up to toy with the bolo tie that sat snuggly underneath her collar. it was baby pink, like the band of the hat you were wearing during the night you met. kate was never big on pink, but after meeting you, it became her favorite color.

she was watching you closely, not wanting to miss a single second of the moment. you were out in the front yard near the little flower garden you insisted on starting when you moved in with kate. it stretched along the fence that separated the yard and the plots of land reserved for the rest of the farm. endless species of wildflowers sprouted from the dirt and mulch, other plants you picked from the gardeners market sat freshly planted. you loved that damn garden with everything you had. sometimes kate wondered if you loved your flowers more than her.

dressed in a light green sundress, the one that sat untouched in the back of your closet most days, you stood radiant under the evening sun. there was a cotton apron draped around your waist, you had sewn several pockets into it by hand so that you could carry your supplies in the garden. there wasn’t a shoe, sock, nor sandal on your foot either. you claimed to prefer it that way, wanting to feel the earth and “be one with nature”. it made kate laugh, seeing your toes sink into the soil. you were on your hands and knees trying to pull the freshly grown weeds, hands wrapping around the base and tugging the roots from their clutch in the ground. kate could make out a line of dirt that spread from your temple to your cheek, most likely from wiping your hand across your sweaty skin. with a groan, you sat back on your knees, tossing the last few weeds into the basket next to you and throwing your head back. you sighed from the excessive heat and the gnawing pain in your forearms. but kate couldn’t help but stare at you in awe, whether you were dirty and tired it didn’t matter to her. she watched as the neckline of the dress dipped down, your chest heaving, causing the tops of your breasts spill just a tich. kate gulped deeply in astonishment. your pink lips, now red from the amount of times you’ve licked them, puckered out as you stretched your neck. it took everything in her to not march over to you, lay you out onto your back, and give the neighbors a show they certainly wouldn’t want to see.

“quit starin’ at me you creep!” you hollered across the yard, snapping kate from the trance you had her in. she chuckled under her breath, her arms falling to her sides.

“m’just appreciatin’ the view” she was so good at smooth talking you, always getting you rattled “can’t a woman just admire her gorgeous wife?”

“not when her woman’s knee deep in weeds and is too tired to make it back to the house!” you pouted, balled fists coming to rest on your hips. you were scolding her now?

she made her way down the cobblestone path, tripping on the stone that stuck out more than the rest. you had asked her to put “fixing that stupid fucking stone” on her to-do list earlier in the month, but she had never gotten to it. you’d probably pester her about it again eventually. your mood instantly changed when she stepped foot onto the grass, shaking her head at you jokingly.

“cant believe you’d leave me out here in this blistering heat, makin’ your so called ‘gorgeous wife’ sit out here helplessly” you nudged again, neck craning up see her clearly.

her face was covered in freckles, darkened from a days work on the farm. her hairy was tied into a braid, strangling hairs whisking around ever which way. you noticed the pink tie on her neck, always smiling when she wore it because you knew she bought it because of you.

“well i’m here aren’t i?” she held both of her hands out to you, offering to help you up “i’d be quite the fool to leave ya”

“such a sweetheart” you tutted, letting kate yank you from the ground, grunting from the force. with her bewildering strength, you stumbled into her. your arms gripped onto her biceps and hers found the way to your rear, giving you an inviting squeeze “thank you baby”

she tipped her head to the right, one hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair. her lips met yours momentarily, capturing you in a winded kiss. you squeaked in surprise at her actions, only to accept it immediately after and kissing her back.

“anytime” she smirked, nipping your bottom lip as she pulled away “although you looked like absolute perfection out here…on your knees…that pretty little dress ridin’ up your thighs. gettin’ me all hot and bothered, yet you’re the one doin’ the weeding”

“keep it in your pants, martin” you rolled your eyes, trying suppress the butterflies in your stomach. but you could never trick kate, she knew exactly the things she did to you. you hooked your fingers through her belt loops as you began walking backwards towards the house, taking her with you “now come and help me”

“help you with what? i thought you were done weedin-”

“not with the weeds silly” she looked at you confused. you pursed your lips as you pushed the front door open “with somethin’ else…this dress ain’t gonna take itself off”

she groaned, biting down on her tongue. images of what she’d do to you on a continuous loop in her mind “you tease”

“maybe,” you shrugged, already making your way down the hall and to the stairs, swaying your hips to egg her on. kate had halted at the bottom of the stairwell, unable to form a complete sentence it seemed “are you coming or not?”

“i’m comin’” she said, following you to the bedroom “just you wait, darlin”

…That's too much cologne, she likes perfume

[monzamash]

to be loved — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you — “i can take care of you. you won't need anyone but me.” requested by @dancininseptember masterlist

The short stroll from your office to the apartment never really bothered you. In fact, you typically enjoyed the fresh air and the chance to enjoy the city you loved. But it was early February; rain was threatening the Spanish skies and the frost bitten breeze stung your already tear-filled eyes. It was a crappy end to an even shittier week, your energy wasted on people who didn’t deserve it.

You practically flung yourself through the door of the apartment and shed all remnants of the day – coat, beanie and scarf, all strewn haphazardly, and in that order, on the floor of your small entryway. It took every ounce of energy you had to kick off your heavy boots, each one hitting the wall much harder than you intended. Maybe it was an unconscious way for you to let out frustration, the scuff marks on the white wall a stark reminder of your last straw.

The smell of fresh bread and bolognese sauce hit you as you slunk down the hallway, your tummy grumbling on instinct. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday, a terrible habit you had fallen into lately and Carlos had noticed. He was home more during the cooler months, easily picking up on your little habits that both endeared and worried him. So he made sure, while he was close to you, that you came home to a warm meal every night – because looking after you was his calling in life.

“That smells incredible.”

Carlos briefly glanced over his shoulder and gave you a bright smile before turning down the stove and grabbing a washcloth to clean his hands. You loved him like this; soft and relaxed, in his element. The kitchen was his playground and you remember the sigh of relief that left your lungs when he told you he loved to cook on your first date, because you weren’t particularly gifted when it came to the pots and pans.

“Hope you’re hungry,” He sang, circling the island in the middle of the kitchen to say a proper hello to his beautiful girlfriend, “How was your day?”

A rigid sigh fell from your lips as you fell into his arms, the loving embrace triggering tears to spring to your eyes for the third time today. Carlos held you tight and brushed his hands down your back, comforting you through the sobs wracking your aching body.

“Ay, mi amor,” He soothed, “Breathe for me please.”

Carlos guided you through a couple of deep breaths, chests rising and falling together in synchronicity until your sobs subsided, air finally filling your lungs again. A tight squeeze around your waist brought you back to the man holding you in his arms, worried eyes searching yours for a sign that you were okay as you pulled back and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m okay, I’m sorry.” You sniffled, head shaking.

Carlos tutted as he thumbed away the trail of tears from your face, “Do not say sorry, my love. Talk to me…”

Anger replaced sadness as you told him about how your sister had completely disregarded your feelings for the millionth time, accusing you of only caring about yourself while she’s all alone and stressed about wedding planning. Carlos has managed to get you to sit up on the counter beside him while he finished dinner, but not before pouring you a glass of red wine to nurse while you purged all the negativity from your day.

“She called me a bitch and then uninvited us from the wedding, which by the way I didn’t want to go too to begin with,” You huffed, hands animatedly flying around while he tried to keep up with the drama.

“And all I said to her was that work has been stressful and that us trying for a baby hadn’t been… fruitful, I guess. She flipped out when I said that because her dickhead fiancé doesn’t want kids and she thinks she can change his mind…”

You took a sip of wine and noticed Carlos' eyes rolling like they always did when the topic of your sister came up. He was as sick of her shit as you were, unapologetically scoffing at her selfishness. Making you feel bad when all you needed was someone to confide in was one thing, but lashing out on you was something he couldn’t stand by and watch. He knew he couldn’t do anything right now; maybe he would make a stern phone call tomorrow once the dust had settled.

So instead of getting upset, he put down the wooden spoon coated in the most delicious sauce you had ever tasted and nestled himself between your swinging legs. His warm chocolate eyes stared into your soul as he planted his palms on your thighs, tethering himself to you.

“You know I can take care of you, mi vida,” He said, voice deep and barely above a whisper, “No matter the problem, you won't need anyone but me, I promise.” 

For the first time in weeks, you felt your heart slow down and return to a normal rhythm as Carlos pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You softly moaned in unison and gripped the grey shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, pulling him in closer – not that he had any plan on going anywhere.

No, all he wanted was for his girl to feel heard and to be loved because all he needed was you.

a/n — loved writing carlos again. inbox detox is still open !!

[koolades-world]

Can you do a fanfic of an MC who likes to play a game with the brothers where MC steals the easiest thing that they have on them (like Mammon’s glasses or if Lucifer is wearing glasses, they take them) and the brothers have to chase them around to get them back? It’s all good fun and they know they’re joking haha

hi! yes, of course!! another fun idea!!

please enjoy!

Mc strikes again!

Lucifer was enjoying his coffee at the table with his daily newspaper, casually reading like he did every morning. He got downstairs early in order to enjoy the peace and quiet it brough to his routine. Everyone knew this, because when they arrived downstairs, he was always about halfway done with the paper and his coffee at that point.

It was the perfect time to strike. Before he knew it, Lucifer's reading glasses were swiped right off his nose by a pair of hands he would know anywhere. He did nothing to stop the mischievous human who he could hear running down the hall in their socks, giggling the whole way. He couldn't finish reading the paper without them, so, with a small grin, he got up to chase after them.

Lucifer was sure the entire house heard them, and at one point Mc smacked straight into Beel and after apologizing, kept running. He had also been awake for a while, thanks to his morning workout routine, but left Mc and his older brother to their own devices. Finally, the chase ended when Mc tried to get into their own room to shut the door behind them, but the door was locked. Lucifer triumphantly took his glasses back, in exchange for a kiss. He gave them a lighthearted scolding, and before going back to the dining room, unlocked their door for them. Next time, Lucifer would be more prepared for a surprise attack from Mc.

Later that day, Mc did the same thing to Belphie and his pillow. He was, of course, asleep during their scuffle with Lucifer, so he had no clue what was about to hit him. While he was taking his third afternoon nap, they snuck up and attempted to yank the pillow out from under him. While they knew he had a strong grip while asleep since they had been the victim of his many naps, while he had fallen asleep while holding them, they still thought they'd be able to steal away with the pillow.

They were severely wrong. As much as they tugged and tugged, they couldn't get it to budge at all. When they thought they'd gotten a little bit of leeway, Belphie grabbed them by the arm and yanked them into a cuddle. After he knowingly questioned them on what they were doing, Mc tried their best to pretend they were doing nothing, but failed. As a toll for attempting to snatch his pillow, Belphie made them cuddle with him until he was sure they'd learnt his lesson.

They tried the other brothers, but failed and eventually decided to just try the easiest target: Mammon.

Later that week, they tried the glasses trick on Mammon while he was scrolling on Devilgram. That was much easier than trying to steal from Lucifer or Belphie because Mammon had such a soft spot for Mc. They asked for several things, all of which he complied to. He had to He could've just snatched them back and played the same chasing game but, he loved them. He cared about them, so even if his glasses weren't at stake, he would do it. He actually had spares he could grab, but he'd do anything for you.

It was a good day to be Mc, surrounded by some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, yet they would do the silliest things for them.

[coldfanbou]

Banding Together

Alright, everyone, here is the fic I was talking about. The first lady you see is Hyun-Jung of Rolling Quartz, while the second is Magenta of QWER. I love both bands and wanted to write them, so here we are with them. Also, yes, the title is a pun because they are both in a band. Please enjoy.

Length 3K

Magenta x Mreader X HyunJung

Sitting at an empty bar, you sip your drink while waiting for your friend. The small chime of the bell alerted you to her entrance. “What took you so long?” You ask, turning to face the door. You note someone else standing with her.

“I was bringing a friend,” she chides, giving you a slight wink. Hyun-Jung wore a simple white dress that suited her well, considering her blonde hair, which turned light blue. You look over and recognize the face. 

“And it’s someone I know.” You finish the last of your drink before ordering another, “Boss, serve the ladies whatever they’d like.” You tell the bartender before standing up. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Min-hee.” She greets you, bowing slightly. Min-hee wears a white button-up shirt, a low black vest, and a gray skirt.

“I know. You’re Magenta of Qwer. How do you know Hyun-Jung?” 

“We started talking a while ago. I really like her music, and I complimented her online. We started talking a little afterward, and we’ve gone out a few times.” 

“That’s great. It’s nice to know Hyun-Jung had friends.” Hyun-Jung slaps your shoulder before taking a seat next to you. 

“Boss, the most expensive drink you have,” she says, eyeing you. Shaking your head, you sit back down in your seat. Magenta sits next to Hyun-Jung. “Oh, make it two, Boss.” Hyun-Jung giggles as she puts one hand on Magenta’s shoulder. “We’re going to drink all night!” She says, happy as can be. Sighing in response, you down your drink. 

“Have you two ever played together? I mean, Hyun-Jung is a guitarist, and you're a bassist, Magenta.” 

Magenta shakes her head, “We haven’t played together at all. We mostly go to karaoke and sing our hearts out. Plus, I still stream…”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Magenta lets out a slight snort before giggling. “I just mean that you two could still play together for fun.”

Magenta waves you off, “I get it, I get it. You just said that so plainly.” She grabs her drink, wrapping her lips around the straw and taking a sip before continuing. “We just like to relax together, so we go out to sing.”

Hyun-Jung interrupts your conversation, leaning forward to block your line of sight of Magenta. “Am I just a third wheel on your guys' date?” She bangs her fist against the counter. “Don’t just ignore me.” Hyun-Jung’s anger makes you both laugh. 

“Oh, relax. We’re just chatting.” Hyun-Jung huffs and down the last of her drink. “Take your time drinking; you know how you can get.”

“I’ll be fine. You have to watch out for Min-hee. She’s the one that gets wild.” 

Magenta shakes her friend, “I’m not that bad!” She whines. Hyun-Jung laughs, knowing she’s getting to her friend. 

The three of you stay at the bar until late into the night. Both women were drunk after the many drinks they had at your expense. “I know I said today was on me, but couldn’t you two have taken it a little easy?” 

“No, free drinks are free drinks,” Hyun-Jung says, hiccups overtaking her as she stumbles out of the bar. Magenta wasn’t fairing much better, holding onto Hyun-Jung before falling to the ground. Her face was red, and she continued to pull on Hyun-Jung’s white dress from the ground. Hyun-Jung grabbed the end of her dress, pulling back on it. “You’re going to make everything spill out!” She yelled. What she said was true, though; Magenta’s pulling nearly made one of Hyun-Jung’s tits pop out of her dress. 

“I need help!” Magenta whined. Her previously pristine outfit was dirtied from the fall, and the wine she had spilled on herself earlier. As you looked down at the fallen woman, you glanced at her cleavage. Magenta had unbuttoned her shirt just a little in an attempt to dry her shirt. 

You squat down in front of the drunk woman, “Come on, I’ll carry you to the station.” Magenta sniffles before letting go of Hyun-Jung’s dress and climbing you. You grip her thighs tightly as you stand up, feeling her arms tighten their grip around you as she presses herself against you.  

“You live nearby; let’s stay at your house.” Hyun-Jung’s says as she wraps her arms around yours to support herself. 

“Are you sure? Magenta, what do you think?”

“I wouldn’t mind staying with you.” She says softly. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” 

Along the way home, you feel Magenta rubbing against you. Hyun-Jung seemed completely unaware as Magenta planted her lips on your neck. “Thanks for the night out. Is there any way I could pay you back?” She whispered, adding extra emphasis to any. “I’m sure I could find a good way once we get to your home.” 

Magenta kissed your neck again, her soft lips lingering there. You felt her small tongue lick your neck; it sent a shiver down your spine. You stayed silent, not wanting to give her any attention. “Hey, are we there yet?” Hyun-Jung asked as if to remind you she was there, too. 

“Nearly there, Hyun-Jung.” You continue walking, your arms getting tired from carrying the flirty Magenta.

“I’m getting cold,” Hyun-Jung complained. 

“This is why I told you to bring a jacket,” you reply, nearing your apartment. “Just hold on a little longer. We’re nearly there.” Once you entered the main building, you let Magenta down. “You can walk the rest of the way. I’m getting a little tired.” 

Magenta rests against you, her arms wrapping themselves around your neck. You feel her rub her leg against yours as she brings it up. “What if you carried me like this?” She says in a low voice, jumping up and wrapping her legs around your waist. The sudden weight nearly brings you both down, forcing you to react. You place your hands on her ass as you take a step forward, attempting to balance yourself. Magenta takes the opportunity to shift her weight, smacking your face with her breasts. You’re getting aroused; Magenta was a beautiful woman throwing herself at you.

“Min-Hee! What are you doing?” Hyun-Jung says, trying to get her friend off you.

Magenta clings to you fiercely, “What?! I’m just holding on so he can carry me! Don’t be jealous!” Magenta shakes her head as Hyun-Jung tries to get her off you. After some struggles, Hyun-Jung was able to pry Magenta off you. Magenta pouts as she sits on the cold floor, “You just want him for yourself.”

“That’s not true. I don’t even want him.” The words sting a little, but you know it wasn’t meant as an insult. You grab Magenta’s hand and pull her to her feet before continuing to your apartment. 

You each slip your shoes off at the entrance before heading further inside your home. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Hyun-Jung says, leaving you and Magenta alone. You take a seat on your couch and shut your eyes for a moment, tired from carrying the drunk woman. Magenta stays rooted to where she’s standing, her hands behind her back as she spins from side to side. After the door to the bathroom shuts, she looks down, unbuttoning her vest before walking over to you. You only notice when you feel her straddle you; opening your eyes, you meet hers. Magenta presses her lips against yours; her delicate hands cup your cheeks before sliding down your neck and moving toward your hands. At your wrists, she brings your hands to her tiny waist. Magenta breaks the kiss, a small strand of saliva keeping you connected as she places her hands on your chest. 

“I’m going to repay you,” She says with a sly smile. She kisses you again as her hands move down to your pants, undoing your belt and pulling your dick out. Magenta’s hand moves slowly down your shaft, making you groan into her kiss. You snake your hands under her shirt, feeling her smooth skin as your hands move up her sides. Blocked by her black bra, your hands reach around her, unlatching it. “Naughty boy,” Magenta whispers as her grip tightens. Magenta uses her other hand to rub the head of your cock, her thumb moving across the tip, becoming covered in a layer of precum. 

You open up the rest of her shirt as she strokes your cock. You cup the underside of one of her tits, shaking it slightly and watching it jiggle as your other hand rubs her thigh. Magenta’s light moans turn you on. As she kisses you again, you pull her closer, feeling the heat coming from her core. Magenta pulls her shirt off and breaks the kiss. Pressing her tits against her chest, you lean forward, kissing her neck as she places her hands on your shoulders. “I can feel your cock twitching.” Magenta coos. She looks down at you, smiling as she pushes your head away. She reaches down, grabs it, and moves her hand along the shaft slowly, “I know you want to be inside me already, but you have to be patient.” She says, getting off you and kneeling. She spreads your legs apart slowly, sneaking in between them. 

Grabbing your cock again, she moves her hand up and down the shaft, smiling as she feels the warmth from it. Watching it leak precum, Magenta leans in and drags her tongue along the head. “Mmm, nice and salty.” She says before taking another lick; this time, Magenta wraps her lips around the head, her tongue swirling around it. You throw your head back and moan. Magetna’s small tongue teases you, going around the tip of your cock, only to stop midway and go in the other direction. Magenta slowly bobs her head, turning it slightly so your cock rubs the inside of her cheek. She pops you out of her mouth for a brief second, “Do you like it?” She says, continuing to stroke your cock.

“What are you two doing?!” Hyun-Jung yells, returning from the bathroom.

“What do you think?” Magenta says before she drags her tongue along the underside of your shaft. “I’m giving our host a nice treat.” Magenta stuffs her mouth with your cock, bobbing her head and turning her complete focus over to you. Hyun-Jung stands there in complete shock as Magenta continues to pleasure you, her tongue coating your cock in a layer of saliva. Feeling your orgasm coming, Magenta focuses on the head, running her tongue back and forth across the tip, making you squirm. Your hips start to move uncontrollably as you near your orgasm; Magenta’s gentle hand tries to keep you still as her tongue laps at your cock.

“Magneta, I’m cumming,” You groan as you buck your hips. Magenta sucks on the head, feeling your warm cum coat her tongue as she milks you by stroking your shaft. Hyun-Jung watches as Magenta’s throat flexes and relaxes as she drinks your cum. She feels a growing wetness in her panties as she watches the scene unfold. Her right-hand moves down her dress, rubbing her folds as she watches Magenta pull away and show you an empty mouth. 

Magenta glances over at Hyun-Jung; seeing her friend getting active, she draws attention to it. “I guess you want some, too, huh, Hyun-Jung,” She says, slapping her face with your limp cock. Hyun-Jung gulps, unable to say a word. “It’s okay; you don’t have to say anything. Just come over here. I’ll even make room for you.” Magenta scoots to the side and waves Hyun-Jung closer. She remains standing in place momentarily, considering her options before eventually moving toward you. She kneels before your, eyeing your cock. “I have just the thing to get this little guy hard again,” Magenta announces before pulling on Hyun-Jung’s dress, getting her tits out. Only now did you see Hyun-Jung hadn’t been wearing a bra. “There we go.” She says with a proud smile on her face. “Now we just do this,” Magenta presses her tits against your cock and pulls Hyun-Jung to do the same. Magenta presses her tits against Hyun-Jung’s, trapping your cock in the middle as they begin to move. You can feel their nipples rub against your cock. Hyun-Jung watches you carefully, listening to your moans. The women feel your cock come back, growing hard between their tits. 

“It’s back,” Magenta says to herself. Hyun-Jung, I’ll let you go first.” Hyun-Jung is taken aback by Magenta’s words. She hadn’t expected her friend to give her the first chance. The pair stand up, with Magenta getting behind Hyun-Jung. She raised the bottom of Hyun-Jung’s dress, revealing her white panties. “Aww, look at you trying to look pure, unnie.” The teasing makes Hyun-Jung blush, and the redness on her face gets stronger as Magenta moves her panties to the side. “Look at this little pussy. Aren’t you a lucky man?” Magenta says as she pushes Hyun-Jung onto you. Magenta helps you and Hyun-Jung along, aligning you with her cunt and pushing her friend onto your cock. 

“O-oh,” Hyu-Jung lets out a staggered moan as she feels your cock enter her. Magenta’s lips on the back of her neck arouse her further, and as you begin to move Hyun-Jung’s voice reigns free, filling the room as you stuff her with your cock. Magenta toys with her friend, squeezing her tits as Hyun-Jung bounces on your cock. You grip Hyun-Jung’s waist, your hands digging into her soft flesh as you pull her down. You nip at the other side of her neck, giving her more pleasure. With the mass of hands and lips touching her Hyun-Jung begins to lose herself to the pleasure, her warm walls squeeze down on your cock. 

“Unnie, it looks like you’re having a lot of fun. Do you like riding him that much?” 

“Mhmm, I-I love it.” Magenta plants her lips on Hyun-Jung’s while continuing to play with her tits. Her fingers trapping Hyun-Jung’s nipples and pulling them taut, making the older woman moan. 

“I love playing with you, unnie. Your tits are so soft.” Magenta whispers into Hyun-Jung’s ear. “You don’t mind if I get a taste, do you?” 

“What?” Hyun-Jung mumbles before feeling Magenta latch onto her tit. She looks down to see her friend suckling on her tit, feeling Magenta’s tongue swirl around her nipple. You do the same, getting her other nipple. Hyun-Jung holds you both to her chest, keeping you in place and becoming a moaning mess. Her cunt holds you tightly, clamping down around your head as she nears her climax. “Shit, I’m cumming.” You squeeze Hyun-Jung; her soft body is perfect for it. Your thrusts continue to speed up, your cock twitching wildly inside her. You bury your cock inside Hyun-Jung, holding her down as your cum paints her walls white. Hyun-Jung cries out as she feels the hot cum rush into her body; she grinds against you taking every drop. 

Magenta watches on happily, eagerly awaiting her turn. She rubs her clit through her panties, whimpering as she has to wait for Hyun-Jung to get off you. 

You kiss Hyun-Jung as you feel her walls squeeze the tip of your cock for more. She returns it, her tongue lazily tracing your lips as you help her off. Hyun-Jung falls back onto the floor, her legs too weak to hold her up. 

Seeing this, Magenta has a lightbulb moment. She crawls over the tired woman, coming face-to-face with Hyun-Jung. Magenta looks over her shoulder to you, raising her ass and arching her back. She shakes it from side to side, telling you to hurry up. You kneel down, holding her tiny waist with one hand while the other moves her panties to the side. Magenta was ready, her cunt slick with her nectar. You can push in with ease, sliding into the deepest parts. Magenta muffled her moans by kissing Hyun-Jung. The older woman could barely return the kiss and let Magenta explore her mouth. You gave Magenta hard thrusts, impaling her. You snuck your hands around her body, squeezing one of her tits and flicking her clit with the other hand. Magenta pushed her ass against you, loving how your cock was ruining her. She held Hyun-Jung’s hands, holding them by the older woman’s head as she forced her tongue into her mouth.  “You’re so tight, Magenta.” You groan. Magenta’s cunt felt like it was tightening around you with every thrust. As you played with her clit, you could feel her tight abs as your forearm rubbed against them. It seemed like she had trained her entire body.

You pull away slowly, holding her waist as you ram your cock into her cunt. Magenta’s moans slowly grow louder despite using Hyun-Jung to silence them. You raise one of your hands high into the air and bring it down on her ass, a deafening clap filling the room. Magenta felt the lingering sting on her ass. Her eyes began to roll into the back of her head as you delivered another strike. Magenta was forced to break her kiss with Hyun-Jung. She began to lap at the older woman’s neck hungrily. “Unnie, I’m going to cum. I’m gonna cum!” She cried out, her grip on Hyun-Jung tightening as her walls clamped down on your cock. Magenta pressed her ass against you, making your cock kiss her womb as she came. Your thrusts continued for another moment before you drove it deep into Magenta and filled her cunt with the first shot of cum. You pulled out and stroked your cock, painting her toned back with your cum before falling back.

You all lay on the floor, tired and wasted from the night. The next morning you woke up to the sight of the women holding each other, with Magenta suckling on Hyun-Jung’s tit as she slept. Magenta still had your cum on her back while Hyun-Jung lay in a pool of it.  Hyun-Jung’s dress would be ruined, while Magenta’s clothes were relatively untouched. You got up slowly and shook them both awake. Magenta smiled as she saw the near-naked  Hyun-Jung. “Unnie, last night was fun. We should do it again.” She said with a smile. Magenta looked at you and winked, telling you she wanted more times like last night. 

Hyun-Jung shook her head slowly, “Never again. This hangover is killing me.” She said, not realizing she was half-naked and filled with cum.

[playfully-sadistic]

Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.

But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.

But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.

Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.

Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.

Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...

Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?

If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.

Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.

Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...

Think you can manage a bit longer?

Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.

Almost there.

Ready, love?

Come for me, right now.

[chasingwhitebunnies]

Headcanon that Merlin keeps notebooks and writes down everything - everything - he wants to show and tell Arthur whenever he comes back

It starts off as a project. He writes down important moments, things he knows he will have to inform Arthur of if when he comes back, but one day, Gwen tells him a joke and he can’t help thinking it would have made Arthur laugh. It was a bittersweet realisation, so he wrote it down to share with Arthur whenever he saw him

Slowly, more jokes were added, and anecdotes, books he wanted to tell him about, plays and music he was sure Arthur would enjoy, and eventually films and shows

Sometimes, he writes when he particularly misses him

He keeps these notebooks on a large secondhand bookshelf, and tries to keep them in chronological order, although the earlier ones aren’t in the best condition after a thousand or so years, but he’s enchanted them to stay legible

It becomes a habit. He decides, subconsciously and superstitiously, that once he has filled the bookshelf, Arthur will return. Merlin does, and Arthur doesn’t. He buys a second bookshelf, and then a third

Finally, Arthur is back and Merlin excitedly showing him his collection and telling him there’s so much he has to share. Arthur is amazed, “you wrote all of this for me?”

Merlin realises suddenly how overwhelming it must seem. “It made it easier, not being able to share all these moments with you. It felt like I was sharing them with you in a way. It was like I was writing you a letter.” He shakes his head. “But you’re here now, it’s silly! You don’t have to read them at all. I can go over them and pick out the important parts, the things you’ll need to know and—”

Arthur stops him. They go through each book together. Merlin hadn’t realised how many good moments he had forgotten over time, and he gets to relive them with Arthur at his side, both chuckling along as Arthur asks questions, “you did what?”

They aren’t all nice stories. Merlin winces as they get to the wars. Arthur holds his hand as he recounts each loss of a friend, and Arthur hates to see Merlin grieve, but he’s glad that he made friends throughout his life because he couldn’t bear the thought of Merlin being entirely alone while he waited for him

But even if he wasn’t always alone, he was lonely. The notebooks proved as much, and sometimes Merlin still panicked if he woke up and Arthur wasn’t close. Eventually, Arthur slid into Merlin’s bed beside him, only to keep him calm. It was the best Merlin had slept since- well, he couldn’t remember

Sometimes one of them would wake up with nightmares of the wars and battles and deaths and wounds, and the other would hold them until they fell back to sleep. Merlin kissed Arthur’s forehead one night without meaning to and froze, but Arthur had only burrowed deeper and fallen asleep with a soft smile

“So that was the last book,” said Arthur as Merlin finished the final page

“Yes, I wrote that the night before you came back,” said Merlin

“I’m all caught up,” said Arthur. “There’s nothing more to say.”

“No, no more to say,” Merlin agreed absentmindedly

A silence fell over them. Who moved first, it was impossible to tell, as if they had both decided in the exact same moment that it had to be now, and they kissed, pulling each other close

“I love you,” said Merlin once they eventually parted

“I got that,” said Arthur, gesturing to the pile of notebooks surrounding them. “The longest love letter in history,” Merlin laughed before Arthur added, “I love you, too”

Edit to add: the last show Merlin wrote that they watched together was Heartstopper, thanks

[strlingsav]

I can't get enough of Drive! Could I request a third part that has more of the D/s themes or maybe some car sex?

Thank you!

Why not both?!!

Drive: Three

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your relationship with Ghost surpassed a means of sexual gratification and was quickly heading toward something more. You were deep in uncharted territory; no longer strictly physical- it was becoming clear that you felt more, wanted more. He'd continued to come to your door- some nights in which you never even touched each other.

The strict rules you'd taken an oath to follow and obey had become blurred when it came to Ghost, and your feelings for each other. It wasn't black and white anymore, and it scared you, as much as it excited you.

No matter how well you kept yourself together, you still worried you'd wind up revealing something. Whether it would be a small slip-up, or perhaps after your leave from service, it would get out. That should've been reason enough to end it, to tell him you didn't want to see him again, but it wasn't.

Though there were feelings brewing in your gut, you managed to keep it under control. Your demeanour around him hadn't changed, even if you could feel your heartbeat in your throat every time you saw him.

The same couldn't be said for Ghost. Although he could hide his emotions and expressions behind the mask, and had never been one for showing much affection to begin with, that didn't mean he wasn't brazenly overbearing, protective, and dangerously close to revealing your affair.

The threat of severe punishment didn't seem to discourage him, in fact, his outward displays of favouritism became more noticeable.

Ghost, with his possessive and domineering nature, kept his eyes on you. He'd make it a point to ask for your whereabouts. Status updates, check-ins; it caught the attention of your squadmates multiple times, and when Captain Price was involved, you were overly-cautious and paranoid.

Yourself and Soap had finished the clearing of a large warehouse on the outskirts of a mostly-abandoned town. It was a simple task, delegated to the two of you, enough to handle without reinforcements. Though your target had already caught wind of military presence, and wound up leaving site before you arrived.

Ghost and Price had been contacted for exfil not long after you realized your contact was gone, and awaited your arrival at the front of the warehouse.

Your name rang through your radio, static enveloping the sound waves. It was your Lieutenant.

"What's your status?" Ghost's voice was recognizable, though distorted, through the comms.

Soap's gaze lifted to yours as he crouched beneath a fallen support-beam, eyebrows raised. It wasn't the first instance of Ghost's intervention, and though it may have been innocent enough, paranoia crept up and sat at the front of your mind.

"Everything's good here," You radio'd back, your eyes glued to the exit door at the end of the warehouse. "Heading out now. Over."

"Exfil's waitin'. Out."

You checked over your shoulder, watching Soap fall in line beside you as you neared the exit. You gave a clear nod as he opened the door, your head snapping up to surveil the area.

Your eyes landed on the two vehicles parked in front of the warehouse- Ghost leaned up against the car door. Price was seated in the driver's side of the other vehicle, gesturing for the two of you to get in.

You headed toward Price's SUV, pulling open the rear door while Soap climbed in the passenger side.

"You're with me," Ghost called, catching your attention before you could lift a leg up.

Neither your Captain nor Soap seemed disturbed by this order, so you nodded, slamming the door shut before leaving two harsh slaps on the bumper.

Price pulled away, leaving you to saunter over to Ghost, who stared at the back of the SUV as it slowly disappeared over the hill.

"Get in," He said, opening the door.

You gave another short nod before ambling over to climb into the passenger seat. Ghost's eyes were glued to you as you sat down and while wrapping the seatbelt across your chest. You slung your rifle between your thighs, leaning back with a sigh.

Once he started on, he peered over at you with a scrutinizing glare. His eyes were drawn to the scratch across your neck, puffy and red, courtesy of a jagged piece of metal you'd run into.

"You hurt?" He asked.

"No," You shook your head, letting your eyes land on his. "Just a scratch."

He nodded. "Should've been in there," He muttered. "Johnny's gotten sloppy."

You sucked in a deep breath.

It was difficult to start a conversation about your feelings with someone that didn't truly owe you anything. Not loyalty, nor understanding. But the other part of you wanted to be able to do your job without interference.

"You're gonna get us caught," You blurted, your head lulling to the side as you stared at him.

His eyes were glued to the road. He was quiet for a few moments, unsure how to respond. Did you not like spending time around him? Was this your way of ending whatever fucked-up relationship was going on?

"What's that mean?" He asked, knuckles white, fingers gripping the wheel as he awaited your response.

"It means you're paying a bit too much attention to me."

"Y'don't like my attention now?" He was a bit amused, only able to conjure up images of you begging for him when he had you pinned beneath him on your mattress.

"I do," Your eyes surveyed the emotionless cover of his mask. "But the squad's starting to notice. Soap is taking notice."

He hummed quietly, ruminating on your words. His hand landed on your thigh, a rough squeeze as he watched the road.

"Could give a fuck what Johnny sees."

"I give a fuck," You shot back, venom in your tone. "You'd be discharged. I'd be discharged. Probably worse, too."

The car came to a screeching halt, clouds of dust enveloping the vehicle beneath hot callipers and locked tires. Your hands reached the dashboard as you steadied yourself, ready to scold Ghost for his driving.

His eyes pored into yours the second you turned your head.

"I'd fuck you right in front of him, and he wouldn't do fuck-all about it."

He studied your eyes a bit closer, watching you swallow at the imagery he created. You desperately wanted to have a serious conversation- one that made Ghost understand the importance of subtly, but he'd managed to change course and cause a fluttering in your stomach.

"He would," You raised your brows, challenging his hypothetical situation.

"He'd ask to join- 'at's about it."

You cracked a small smile, never able to hold your sour demeanour for long when it came to Ghost and his sense of humour.

"Would you let him?" You teased, watching his head fall sideways as he examined you.

"I'd sooner shoot him than let him have you."

You laughed, letting your hand fall to his arm. Your thumb rubbed over the thick cotton of his button-up, before you met his eyes again.

"What if I wanted him to have me?" Your chin lifted as you stared him down.

He closed in on you, the grip on your thigh tightening.

"Too fuckin' bad."

Your lip tucked under your teeth as your eyes drifted between his. He was growing hard beneath his fatigues, just watching your swollen lips and pretty eyes as you batted your lashes at him. He knew you appreciated his abrupt and intimidating personality- you complemented him well with your relentless teasing and painfully arousing tendency to submit to him.

Your instigating was gratifying, especially as his chest rose and fell furiously, unable to shake the image from his head of Johnny inside you. You liked cracking the cool demeanour he worked so hard to keep. He didn't enjoy it nearly as much, but he'd enjoy showing you exactly why you obeyed his every word.

"I've heard he's pretty good with-"

"Get your arse in the backseat."

You didn't waste another moment, sliding into the back row. You stripped out of your jacket and pants, leaving your vest and rifle in the front seat as Ghost climbed in beside you, slamming the door behind him.

He settled on the leather seat, creaking under his movements, hands resting on his thighs as you moved in toward his body. He guided you onto his lap with ease, his hands taking your waist as he pulled you against his chest.

His mask lifted to his nose, only moments going by before his lips engulfed yours in a gentle, slow kiss. His hand snaked up your side, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. There, he could control your movements, have you exposed in whatever way he wanted.

He could tell you liked when he took his time- the sensual kisses, his tongue against yours in a lazy motion, but he knew you loved his hand pulling your hair, his groin hard against yours.

You moaned quietly into his mouth, your hips moving forward subconsciously in an attempt to have him closer. His fingers had latched onto whatever part of you they could; your waist, your hips, your ass.

He trailed down your neck, kissing the fresh wound across your skin with delicacy. The gentleness only made the heat sloshing in your gut turn to a searing temperature.

His lips were warm against you, goosebumps rising to the top of your skin as he neared your collarbones. Your head fell back in response, and his lips traced back to the curve of your jaw.

Your hands pressed against the headrest behind him, caught off-guard by the gentleness with which he handled you. His eyes dropped to the sight of your breasts, squished against the hard armour of his fatigues.

His eyes fell lower, your waist, hips, the flesh of your ass he wanted to sink his teeth into. It was overwhelming, how addictive the curves of your body were- the things he'd do to keep you all to himself. It didn't come as a surprise, only that he was willing to risk everything just to touch you.

His arm gathered around your waist, keeping you flush with the warmth of his body, while his hand slid between you, finding the pure heat emanating off your groin. You were wet already, that much he could feel, and the beads of sweat dotting your forehead and chest further confirmed your arousal.

You whimpered softly when his palm made contact with your pussy.

"You like it when I touch you?" He asked suddenly, his voice echoing off the interior.

You stared at him blankly- there was only an obvious answer, "Yes." You tried to stop your brows from furrowing with confusion.

He found your clit, pulsating and puffy with blood flow, rubbing tight circles with his fingers. Your head fell back, a low moan rumbling from your chest. His lips reattached to your neck, teeth nibbling at your exposed skin.

"Fuck, yes," You sighed.

"Tell me who makes your pussy this wet." The rumble of his voice vibrated against your chest.

You paused your focus on his fingers, meeting his gaze with lidded eyes and parted lips.

"You," You replied, soft lips parting with another moan. "You make me so wet."

His fingertips slowly slid inside you, met with a gush of silky juices and soft walls that stretched around his fingers. Your eyes shut, a shiver in your body making him smile with satisfaction.

"Say it again," He ordered. "So we're clear."

Your lips pressed together, suppressing a heavy moan as he moved between your clit and your entrance. He created a heat between your thighs, a friction you knew all too well was the beginning of your climax. It only drove you to say exactly what he wanted, to let him do whatever he wanted.

Your sighs had turned to whines, before you squeaked out, "You, Sir," Another soft moan left your lips. "Shit- you make me wet."

Sir. It made his cock twitch every time he heard your voice call him that. Every time your irresistibly supple and inviting lips said it.

His hips mindlessly jumped up into you, desperate to ease his own yearning. "Know you like when I fuck you with my fingers. Play with you however I fuckin' like."

"Please," You whispered, choked and strained while fighting for your orgasm.

He liked your answers, always did. It caused a grumble of appreciation to leave his chest.

Your eyes clamped shut, fingers moving to grip his shoulders. Your own hips were moving forward on his fingers, grinding against his wrist and hand. It wasn't long before your head fell back, a deep shudder overcoming you as you climaxed.

Your body weakened against him, falling forward to his grasp. He wasn't finished, however. Not yet- not ever.

He lifted his gear over his head, his jacket unbuttoned and thrown over the driver's seat before he pinned you to the cool leather of the back seat.

Your thighs hooked around his hips as he hovered over you, your arms thrown over his shoulders. He unzipped his fatigues, yanking your panties aside as he plunged his cock in you without warning.

Your chest arched into his, head falling back against the seat as he filled you- inch by inch, he pushed all the way inside you before drawing back. His hands were planted on either side your head, watching your lips part with breathy gasps and desperate moans.

"Fuckin' hell," He groaned. "Pussy was made just for my cock, sweetheart," He leaned down, close, close enough to feel your deep breaths against his neck.

The windows had begun to fog up, though they were tinted, he was sure any bystanders would know exactly what was going on- and he liked it that way.

"You get off on makin' me jealous?" He asked, dipping to your ear as his hips rounded.

"N-no," You stuttered, finding difficulty catching your breath with lack of oxygen and how deep he was inside you. "No, Sir."

He groaned, resisting the urge to completely let go and fuck you, relentlessly.

"Good- you know Johnny ain't half as good as me- at anythin'," He growled.

You could feel the head of his cock teasing your cervix, and every thrust met your clit with enough pressure to make your legs tremble around his waist.

"He isn't," You agreed, eyes watery and your lips frozen in a gasp. "So good," You whispered, your eyes shutting for a fleeting moment.

"This cunt is mine, you're mine," He grunted in your ear, soft and quiet, but you heard; every rasp and deep breath as it passed his lips and tickled your neck. "And I'll do whatever I fuckin' please when it comes to you, sweetheart."

Goosebumps erupted over your flesh, your hands clinging to his shoulders as he drove in and out of your pussy. His eyes hadn't left yours, watching you take his cock, at the mercy of his body.

"Yes- shit, yes," You groaned.

"You always take it like a good fuckin' girl," He grunted again. "You like bein' a good girl for me?"

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head- it was almost too much; his thickness stretching you out, reaching the depths inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit.

"Yes," You swallowed, hard, your voice reduced to brief whines. "Oh my god," You slurred. "I'm your good girl," You whispered, his chest against yours compressing your lungs.

You were breathless, stuck in a fog of pleasure and absolute mindlessness. He was more than right, you enjoyed every bit of what he had to offer.

He wrapped an arm beneath your head, holding you closer to him as he ground his hips into yours, forcing you to stay still in your position and do nothing but take his cock.

"Fuck me," He groaned, listening to the sounds of your wetness as he slid in and out of you, feeling your warm, slick walls envelope him with ease once he'd opened you up. "Y'want Johnny now?" He breathed, his lips beside your ear as he pounded into you, your body stationary in his grip.

"No," You choked, wrapped in his arms, pressed tightly against him, your mind unable to focus with his cock drilling into you. "No- just you, only you. God- I only want you," Your voice had turned to a whine amidst gasps for air.

He reached a hand between the small parting of your bodies, circling your clit with a relentless pace.

You didn't have the mind to keep composure, not as he urged you to your climax at a rapid pace, still keeping his stamina. You could only shake your head, lip quivering as you bit down.

"Yeah, sweetheart," He grumbled, feeling your pussy contract around his cock. "That's it- cum on my cock."

Your body went rigid, a long-winded gasp leaving your lips, stretching out as your orgasm tugged you under waves of pleasure.

"Shit," You squeaked, opening your eyes again, finally, to watch him shake his head with disbelief.

"Keep squeezin' my cock," He grunted, "'m cummin' in this pussy."

You nodded, shivering with pleasure at every plateau as you came down from your high. He didn't take long after you to press his pelvis against yours, bury himself deep inside you as he climaxed. He was flush with your body, exhaling softly as he regained his stamina, and you couldn't help but shift beneath him.

He lifted himself up off your body, still encasing you with his giant arms, but fondness in his eyes made you realize he just wanted to be close, to feel you, smell you.

"Can't help it," He said suddenly, his eyes shifting from your neck to your gaze. "Never been worried before. Not like this."

Your expression softened once you realized what he was referring to; his words wrapped around your heart and squeezed softly. You bit back a smile.

"I want you to care," Your hands lifted to caress his shoulders. "Just not so frequently. Or publicly."

You grinned, pressing your lips to his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut, only opening when you laid back against the leather seat.

"Alright," He grumbled. "Just don't go gettin' yourself killed."

"I always do my best."

He hummed, dissatisfied with your answer, but nodded anyway. Truthfully, he didn't care whether seeing you meant he could lose everything. So long as he didn't lose you.

[tightjeansjavi]

his eyes still glisten

A/N: so, this is based off a real life experience that I and others have probably been on both the receiving end, and the giving end whether it was intentional or not. Healthy communication in all types of relationships is important, as are boundaries. We all make mistakes and hurt people sometimes, but the important part to remember is that as human beings, we feel. We innately want to do good, and sometimes these hard conversations need to be had. Remember to also hold compassion for yourself during a painful/stressful time. We always can do better, and be better. 🤍

~word count: 2.9k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is feeling neglected in his current relationship with you. He breaks finally when you are no show to a planned dinner date. You and Joel talk through your feelings and set healthy boundaries in your relationship .

warnings: angst, hurt, some fluff, miss communication,minor whump, comfort, arguments, light mention of alcohol consumption, uncomfortable conversations, boundaries being set, vulnerability, just two people trying to navigate in a relationship, resolution, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

As human beings we often find ourselves being engrossed in our lives. It’s never often intentional, but it’s easy as sliced butter to inadvertently make everything about ourselves. Our jobs, our relationships, our opinions, our thoughts. When we find ourselves too focused on our own lives, we forget the important people. Our friends, our families, our partners. You’ve forgotten your Joel, and he’s not quite sure how much longer he can keep his voice silent.

It’s not that you’re a bad person, a bad partner, a bad listener, you’ve just fallen off the rails a bit. Joel knows that he too needs to work on communicating his feelings better. His problem is that he often finds himself bottling everything up for so long that it begins to chip away at his exterior, piece by piece. He’s hurting; but you don’t realize it. After being together for so long, the honeymoon stage eventually wears off. He’s always been there to listen, be the shoulder used to soak your tears in. You’ve been good to him, so good to him, but lately he’s been feeling neglected. He feels the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. The trepidation that maybe you just don’t love him anymore.

He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” The waitress at yours and Joel’s favorite restaurant asks with a gentle smile. She’s stopped by the table a few times now.

Joel checks his phone with a heavy sigh. You're running twenty-minutes late, but he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. He gives the waitress a small, polite smile as he shakes his head. “No, Just a few more minutes. My girlfriend is running late.”

“Of course sir, no problem. Would you like another beer while you wait?”

He nods tightly before she even has the chance to finish.

The minutes begin to tick by as he nurses his crisp bottle Miller Lite. He feels pathetic each time he glances at the entrance to the restaurant. His mind plays a cruel trick on him as he searches for your face in the other diners.

Where the fuck are you?

He scrolls through his messages between you and him. Searching for any context clues as to why you were late. He calls you once, twice, a third time. He can’t help the dread that begins to seep deep into his bones. His palms are clammy to the touch as he imagines the worst possible outcomes; you’re breaking up with him, you’re seeing someone else.

No. No. He chants silently to his callous thoughts.

You’re just running late.

He finishes off his second beer as he begins to feel the tears sting the corner of his eyes. He refuses to show his emotions in a public setting. He won’t break down here, like this. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket as he slaps down enough bills to cover both the two beers, and a hefty tip for his waitress.

Once he’s safely behind the wheel of his truck, he finally breaks.

You were in back to back meetings all day. You were exhausted, burnt out, frustrated to the max limit, and your dinner date with Joel was forced to the back of your mind. Subconsciously, work was beginning to become your top priority, while your relationship was pushed to the backburner. It was becoming hard to juggle it all. Your sense of work-life balance was depleting faster than you could keep up. At the end of an extinguished flame that was barely holding on by a thread, was your boyfriend. Your Joel.

It’s a moment too late when you’re smacked head on with the realization that you fucked up. Shit, what day is today? Thursday. Oh–fuck, Joel. Your own sense of dread forces its way into your system as you frantically dial his number. You barely hear your co-worker telling you to have a good evening as you rush out to your car.

He doesn’t pick up. You try again, and again, and again.

He’s purposely ignoring your calls and you can’t seem to grasp the reason as to why.

A sense of relief washes over you when you find his truck parked in the driveway of your shared home. The lights in every room are turned off. He usually keeps a few on when he knows you’re working late in the office.

He hears your keys jingle at the front door from where he’s sat at the kitchen table. He doesn’t budge. He sits there with a stoic look on his face, and his hands clasped in his lap. Remnants of his tears laid streaked across his cheekbones like two cavernous streams.

“Joel, baby? Hey, I’m so sorry about tonight. I was in back to back meetings all day, Eric was being a fucking cranky pants, again. I had to stay late to work on this project that is due at the end of day Friday.” It felt like you were talking strictly to yourself as you softly closed the front door behind you, and plopped your keys in the bowl on the hall table right next to his. “Joel?”

Your ears perked at the sound of the kitchen chair scraping across the tile as you rounded the corner. “There you are. I’m so sorry, baby. I–”

“Why couldn’t you jus’ call me, or send me a text message. I sat in the fucking restaurant waitin’ for you. I could have changed the time of the reservation had I known you would be workin’ late.” He answers flatly as his forefinger nervously begins to pick away at the skin along his cuticles. A nasty habit he can’t seem to break.

“Baby, I know. I didn’t have a ton of access to my phone, and I just got caught up in a lot of shit today. You know it wasn’t intentional, right?”

He swallows down the urge to scoff at your dismissive response as his eyes slowly focus on you. “Can you..not call me baby right now? I’m trying to have a fuckin’ conversation with you, and you’re completely dismissing what I just said.” He bites back out of pure frustration.

“Dismissing you? Joel, I just said I was fucking sorry. I told you that I was busy–”

“Yeah, I heard you. You think I'm not busy too? Yet, I still take the time out of my schedule to communicate with you, because it’s the considerate and bare minimum thing to do! You couldn’t just take five fuckin’ seconds to send me a text?!”

“Joel, I never said that you weren’t busy too? Can you please not put words in my mouth? I was in back-to-back meetings. I barely had any access to my phone! What are you insinuating here? That I'm just making up excuses?!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you had zero time to communicate to your boyfriend?! I’m not insinuating that you’re makin’ up excuses, because that’s exactly what you are doing right now. All I'm asking for is some communication. Do you know how fucking pathetic I felt waiting around for you? I just wanted to have a relaxing evening with my girlfriend. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, all week, and it’s like you don’t care.” His voice cracked at the end. He felt utterly defeated as he scrubbed a hand across his face with an exasperated sigh. He hated confrontation. He hated fighting with you. It ripped his heart to shreds to see the way your face immediately fell from his words.

When you couldn’t muster up a response, he took this as his opportunity to get everything off of his chest.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, darlin.’ That is quite literally the last thing I want to do, but i’m at my fuckin’ breakin’ point here. You’re the most important person in my life outside of my brother, and lately I've been feeling neglected in our relationship. I don’t think you mean it intentionally, but these past few weeks I have been hurting. I know I should have communicated this to you sooner, but lately it’s been all about you. I know you’re busy at work. I know you’re stressed and frustrated with some of your co-workers, but what about my day? What about the projects that I have been working on? What about my stress? What about..me?” His eyes glistened like two shiny marbles under the warm glow of the overhanging kitchen light.

You were taken aback. It felt as if a freight train had collided with you and smashed your body down into smithereens. You hesitantly pulled out the kitchen chair across from where he was sitting before you slowly sank down. “Joel, I had no idea that you had been feeling this way at all. I truly thought that things were okay between us. I’m sorry I didn’t read between the lines and picked up on your change of mood. I’ve just been so caught up in myself lately, that I haven’t created the time for us to just sit down and communicate like this.” You softly spoke as you clasped your hands along the smooth finish of the wooden table.

“It’s not just about reading between the lines, I have some responsibility in this as well because I can’t just expect you to know exactly how i’m feeling if i’m not taking the time to communicate it to you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to internalize everything I'm sayin’, okay? I jus’ have done a disservice to us both for keeping this shit bottled up for as long as I have.” He murmured as he moved his hands from his lap and rested them along the table.

“How..else have I been making you feel lately, Joel?”

You watched as he took a deep inhale through his nose, before exhaling shakily through his mouth. You saw his lower lip wobble with uncertainty as his still glistening eyes met yours.

“Truthfully? I jus’ feel like I ain’t as important to you anymore. Like I could just get up and leave one day and you wouldn’t even notice that I wasn’t there. I feel like I'm always there to listen, and comfort you, but you don’t do the same for me. I feel like I constantly am seeking reassurance that you actually still want to be in a relationship with me. I feel like it’s a one way street, and my car is about to spin out because i’ve lost all capability of steering. I feel obligated to tell you the things that you want to hear, in fear of hurting your feelings unintentionally. I feel like i’m constantly putting my best foot forward in the relationship, and in the same breath, I’m trying to hold it together with some expired fuckin’ glue. I feel like I've been putting my everything into us, and I'm just becoming an afterthought to you.” Admittedly, it felt good to get everything he was keeping pent up off his chest finally.

“Joel, you are so important to me. I absolutely would notice if you just weren’t here one day. I’m sorry that I have been making everything about myself lately. I promise you it’s not in an intentional, or malicious way, I've just been getting sidetracked, and I haven’t been taking the time to focus on us and our relationship. I completely understand why you are feeling this way lately, and your present feelings towards me are completely valid. I haven’t been the best partner to you, and you shouldn’t feel like our relationship is a one way street. It should be a two way street, and I regrettably have lost sight of that.”

He had half expected you to blow up in his face over his vulnerable admittance. He had his own baggage from past failed relationships, so that unhealed side of him wanted to believe that you were just complying out of spite. The healed side of him was a gentle reminder that you were human too, and that mistakes are made, and people are hurt, but the most important fact was that you were listening to him. You were validating his feelings and holding yourself accountable.

“Darlin’ it’s okay. We’ve both been shit communicators lately. I think it's something that we both need to work on, don’t you think? Earlier this evening when I saw that you called, I was purposely ignoring you because I was feeling angry, hurt, and I was feeling bitter. I know I should have just taken the call, but I also didn’t want to explode on you either. I was at that point, and before anything could be said, I needed to calm down and collect my thoughts. I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes, and that’s also somethin’ i’d like to personally work on within myself.”

“Yeah, we can definitely use some touching up in that department. I need to start taking your feelings into consideration more. I’m glad that you didn’t pick up your phone, because honestly? It probably would have gotten ugly. I also think that lately I have turned you into my personal punching bag, because I'm constantly throwing my work drama onto your shoulders without even thinking about asking if you’re in the headspace to take on my emotions. I just open my mouth and spew, and I need to be more considerate on how you're feeling at that moment. I know we can always vent to each other about our frustrations, but maybe a boundary should be set?”

He slowly reached for your hands across the middle of the table as his fingers slotted through yours. He gave your hands a reassuring squeeze, followed by a soft smile.

“Yeah.” He rasped warmly, “I think it would be good for us to set some healthy boundaries. Sometimes I just don’t have the emotional capacity to take on your frustrations, especially if I am feeling particularly down on myself, or just in a general mood. With that, I really think it would be good for us to think about the positives as well y’know? Maybe we should try to not let our frustrations completely take over the vibe all the time? Cause honestly, I do find myself seeking your comfort and support when I find myself needing it most, but with that, I also need to remember that you might not have the emotional capacity to drop everything for me, and that is okay. We both have lives existing outside of the relationship, I jus’ think we gotta find that balance that works for both of us.”

You gently squeezed his hands back as you attentively listened to everything he was saying. “Yes, I agree that sometimes we both don’t have that emotional capacity for one another. Perhaps a level of consent can be established? Just a simple, ‘hey, i’m really frustrated right now, can I please tell you how i’m feeling?’ That way, it doesn’t just feel like we’re venting without checking in with one another first?”

“I think that is a great idea, darlin,’ why should consent and boundaries only be applied in the bedroom? I think it’s beneficial to have it present in all aspects of our relationship. I also would appreciate it if maybe we start having these conversations more? Maybe they can be like weekly check in’s to see how we're feeling? This might be considered to be a little lame, but it’s almost like we’re scrapbookin’ our feelings? Maybe that ain’t the right word for it, but I jus’ want our line of communication to be open, y’know?” He could feel his once tensed up nerves begin to gradually settle. His heart no longer felt like a twisted coil now that you both were communicating.

“Yes, we should make a point to sit down and make the time to have these conversations. It might be a bit tough at first, but I think we can manage it. I get what you mean with the scrapbooking comment. It almost brings a lighter element to it? Plus, we don’t have to just talk about the frustrating stuff. We can talk about all the fun and exciting aspects as well. Joel, I just want you to know that you don’t have to bottle everything up before it becomes too much for you to handle. You can always talk to me, and I can’t promise that I will always be readily available, but I will actively put in the effort to be there for you, just like you have been for me. You and I aren’t perfect. No one is. No relationship is flawless, but I think with a bit of nurturing, we’ll be alright.”

Your own eyes began to glisten as you listened to the familiar scrape of the kitchen chair along the tile as he padded over to you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, as his own looped tenderly around your waist. He nearly crushed you to his chest from how tightly he was hugging you. He really loved you that much. You were his girl after all.

“I love you, honey. Thank you for taking the time to listen and acknowledge my feelings. I appreciate it so much, and we’re gonna be alright. We’re jus’ hittin’ a little speed bump right now, but we haven’t lost control of steering entirely.” He nuzzled his face into your cheek. You could feel the bristles in his beard gently scratch your skin as he squeezed you tightly.

“I love you so much, Joel. Thank you for being honest with me, and I promise I'll do better.”

“I know you will, baby. S’okay. We’re all just human at the end of the day.”

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[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 7 - Hook Man

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

"Enjoying your coffee flavored sugar that you try and convince yourself is coffee, princess?" Dean teases Y/N who's innocently enjoying her favorite coffee order. She narrows her eyes at him and he snorts at her reaction. "With a side of sass. Just how I like it, charming" She retorts sarcastically back, winking at him. Making his heart leap as per usual.

Y/N and Dean are sitting at a table in a outdoor cafe while Sam is at a pay phone trying to call the FBI while impersonating as a agent to get any information on John and F/N. "Alright. Thank you for your time" Sam says politely before hanging up and walking back over to their table.

"Your half-caf double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Frances" Dean calls out to his brother teasingly laughing a bit. "Bite me" Sam retorts back and Y/N chuckles. "So, anything?" Y/N asks hopefully and Sam shakes his head sighing, causing Y/N's face to drop. "I had them check the FBIs missing persons data bank. No John Does matching Dad's or Mr. L/N's descriptions. I even ran their plates for traffic violations" Sam explains frustrated.

"Guys, I'm telling you. I don't think our dads want to be found" Dean says and they shake their heads in disappointment. "Check this out" He says and shows them his laptop. Y/N adjusts herself in her seat to get a better look. "It's a news item out of Plains Courier, Ankeny, Iowa. It's only about 100 miles from here" Deans says. On the news article is the title 'Mysterious Death of a Fraternity Brother'.

"The mutilated body was found near the victims car parked on Nine Mile Road" Sam reads off the article. "Keep reading" Dean says  while taking a sip of his water and Y/N starts. "Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying 'the attacker was invisible' " Y/N finishes reading.

"Could be something interesting" Dean says to them. "Or could be nothing at all" Sam says. "One freaked out witness who didn't see anything does mean it's the Invisible Man" Y/N adds. "But what if it is? Our dads would check it out" Dean tries to reason.

"Really? You're gonna play that card" Y/N raises her eyebrow and Dean shrugs with a smug look on his face.

________________________________

The trio pull up to the fraternity house if it's fallen brother. "One more time, why are we here?" Sam asks as they jump out of Baby and walk into the yard. "Victim lived here" Dean tells him. Y/N notices some of the frat boys wolf whistle at her, she smiles coyly and flashes them a wink before turning back to the boys.

Dean scoffs, seeing the thirsty looks college brats are throwing at Y/N. They approach a couple of guys who have their hood up on their car fixing the engine. "Nice wheels" Dean tells the young man causally and he looks at the two hunters weirdly. "We're your fraternity brothers. From Ohio" Dean thinks of a lie on the spot.

The guy looks over at Y/N, his eyes trailing over her body making Dean narrow his eyes at him. "And you, gorgeous?" He asks smirking. She inwardly rolls her eyes but keeps a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm student too. These are my friends from back home in Ohio. I'm staying at the sorority not too far from here. Told me they needed a place to crash so I let them know you might but taking in" She says sweetly.

The lie seems to work so the boys and Y/N are upstairs in the frat house, the boys entering the room where there supposed roommate would be sharing with them. When they enter they see a young man painting his whole body with purple paint. Dean knocks slightly, a little weirded out at seeing this.

"Who are you?" The purple man asks. "We're your new roommates" Dean says smiling slightly. "And you?" He turns to Y/N. "Just helping my friends get aquatinted" She says causally. "Then do me a favor, get my back. Big game today" He asks her, handing her the paint brush to paint his back.

She raises her eyebrow and points to Sam behind her with her thumb as Dean sits by the window. "He's the artist, the things he can do with a brush" She says, going to sit next to Dean while Sam lightly glares at her and looks little uncomfortable. He hesitantly takes the brush and Dean and Y/N sit by the window, trying to hide their snickering.

"So..." Dean starts, picking up a magazine and seeing a name on it. "..Murph...is it true?" He asks, flipping open the magazine and putting one of his leg on top of the other. "What?" Murph asks. "We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week" Y/N asks as if she's gossiping.

"Yeah" Murph says sadly. "What happened?" Sam asks while painting Murph's back. "They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy" Murph explains. "Rich was with somebody?" Sam asks as Dean flips through the magazine. "Not just somebody....Lori Sorenson" Murph says proudly.

"Who's Lori Sorenson?" Dean asks. "You missed a spot" He points to Murphs back that Sam was painting where he missed a spot. "Yeah. Just down there in the back" Y/N adds, drawing notice to the empty spot near Murphs ass. Sam clenches his jaw, glaring at his brother and best friend who look at him innocently, holding back their laughs.

"Loris a freshman. She's a local. Super hot" Murph says exaggerated. "And get this, she's a reverends daughter" He adds suggestively. Dean leans forward to ask, "You wouldn't happen to know which church, would you?"

________________________________

Y/N, Dean and Sam enter the church during the wake of the recently deceased, slamming the door behind them accidentally a little too hard upon entering, causing the congregation to look at them confused before the reverend goes back to giving his speech.

"....as a community and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic" The reverend states, as the trio take a seat in the room, his daughter, Lori, looking at Sam a little intently. They exchange looks as the reverend speaks. Sam shoots her a small sympathetic smile before Lori turns back to listen to his speech.

"A life unloved is the saddest of passings. So please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance and for the power to protect our children" He concludes to a moment of silence and everyone bows their head except Dean. Y/N peeks one eye open notices Dean didn't put his head down, nudging him a bit to follow along. He complies, bowing his head.

After the service, whilst everyone is conversing between themselves outside, the three approach her. "Are you Lori?" Sam asks her. "Yeah" She confirms, turning to them. "My name is Sam. This is my brother Dean and my best friend Y/N. We just transferred to the university" He introduces himself and them as Dean and Y/N wave saying "Hi".

"I saw you inside" Lori says nodding and smiling. "We don't wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened" Sam says sympathetically and Loris smile drops a bit. "We wanted to say how sorry we were" Y/N adds, giving her a small smile and Dean nods. "I kinda know what you're going through. I-I saw someone get hurt once. It's something you don't forget" Sam explains. Y/N and Dean look at him slightly shocked.

Before she could respond, the reverend approaches them. "Dad, this is Sam, Dean and Y/N. They're new students" She introduces them to her father. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir" Y/N says formally, putting her hand out to shake the reverends. He takes her hand, smiling "I must say, that was an inspiring sermon" She compliments the service.

"Thank you very much" The reverend says gratefully as they break the handshake. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lords message" The reverend adds and Y/N smiles awkwardly at this. "Listen, uh, we're new in town, actually and uh...we're looking for a church group" Dean begins to explain, walking out of view with the reverend to chat as Y/N and Sam stay back with Lori.

"Tell me Lori. What are the police saying?" Sam asks her nicely as the three of them walk a bit. "Well, they don't have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that" She says honestly. "What do you mean?" Y/N asks in the same tone as Sam. "My story. I was so scared. I guess I was seeing things" She says a bit pained.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real" Sam assures her and Lori gives him a small grateful smile.

________________________________

"So you guys believe her?" Dean asks Sam and Y/N as they walk through the library. "I do" Sam and Y/N say in unison. "Yeah, I think she's hot too" Dean says and Y/N rolls her eyes, scoffing lightly, which doesn't go unnoticed by Sam.

"No, man. There's something in her eyes" Sam says. "And get to this, she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car" Y/N explains as they walk into an aisle of shelves in the library. "Body suspended. That sounds like—"

"Yeah. We know. The Hook Man Legend" Sam finishes Deans thought. "It's one of the most famous urban legends ever. You guys don't think we're dealing with The Hook Man" Dean says doubtfully. "Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began" Y/N says.

"Yeah. But what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer" Dean says. "Maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all. What if it's some kind of spirit?" Sam suggests.

A little later they all seat themselves at a table in the library and the librarian drops a couple of dusty boxes of files they asked for on the desk. "Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851" The librarian dusts her hand. Y/N blows some of the dust off the box "Thanks" She says smiling looking back as the librarian walks off.

Sam dusts the top of the boxes off, "so this is how you spent four good years of your life huh?" Dean says sarcastically, cringing as he also blows some of the dust off the box and Y/N opens it. "Welcome to higher education" Sam retorts cheekily and Dean lightly glares at his brother.

Couple hours in, "Hey, check this out" Y/N says, drawing attention to the boys. They peer over her shoulder to look at the report. "1862, a preacher named Jacob Cames was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes" She explains continuing.

"Uh, right here. Some of the deceased were found in their beds, sheets soaked with bloody others suspended upside down from trees as a warning against sins of the flesh" She further explains as Dean pulls out an old piece of paper with the autopsy reports.

"Get this. The murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident Z had it replaced with a silver hook" He says, showing them the old drawing of a hook. "Look where all this happened" Sam says pointing to the location written in the report.

"Nine-Mile Road" Dean says. "Same place where the frat boy was killed" Sam says and Dean looks over at Y/N impressed. "Nice job, Dr. Venkman. Let's check it out" He praises her, patting the small of her back.

As he walks off, she has a small blush on her face. Clearing her throat, Y/N and Sam follow behind Dean.

________________________________

The boys and Y/N pull up to Nine Mile Road and jump out of the Impala. They make way to the trunk of baby and Dean pulls out two shot guns, handing it to them.

"If it is a spirit, buckshot won't do much good" Sam says, cocking the hun outwards as Dean digs in the trunk. "Yeah. Rocksalt Einstein" Y/N says to Sam, also cocking her gun and he chuckles. "Salt being a spirit deterrent" Sam says.

"Yeah. It won't kill him but it'll slow him down" Dean says and he closes the trunk, throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder. "That's pretty good" Sam says impressed. "Who thought of this?" He asks.

"Mr. Winchester brought up salt grenades to my dad, then Dad came up with rock-salt shell casings" Y/N says shrugging. "I told you Sammy, you don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius" Dean says smugly as they walk. Y/N rolls her eyes jokingly and Sam chuckles.

They hear a few twigs snapping, holting in their tracks. Sam and Y/N aim their guns in the direction of the sound. "Over there, over there" Dean whispers to them and they point it towards where Dean was showing them.

Steps coming closer and closer to them. "Put the gun down now! Now!" A man in a police uniform yells, aiming his gun at them. The trio are startled by this, having been caught. "Put your hands behind your head!" He yells, ordering them. "Wait wait wait wait wait! Okay, okay!" Dean obliges.

Sam and Y/N drop their guns and Dean drops his bag. "Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it. On your knees!" The officer commands. The three hunters get on their knees, hands behind their heads. "Now get down on your bellies! Come on, do it!" The officer demands and Dean groans.

"They had the guns" He groans but they all do as told.

________________________________

The next morning the three hunters walk out of the sheriffs department. "Saved your asses. Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I'm Matlock" Dean exclaims boastfully. "But how?" Y/N asks confused. "Told em Sam was a dumbass pledge and we were hazing him. And you were my girlfriend who came cuz you were scared I'd get hurt" He says winking at Y/N who scoffs.

"Please. I'd leave your ass to get hurt" She says sassily, snorting and Sam says. "Yeah. Sure" ironically. Causing Y/N to nudge him annoyed and he looks down smiling. 'He sure loves to use that excuse..' Y/N thinks to herself. "What about the shotgun?" Sam asks.

"I said to you were hunting ghosts and that spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know? Typical Hell Week prank" Dean smirks. "And he believed you?" Sam asks surprised. "Well, you look like a dumb-ass pledge" Y/N retorts cheekily, shrugging and Sam huffs annoyed.

Dean laughs and Sam shoots Y/N his classic glare. "Bite me crack head" He huffs, holding back a laugh. "No thank you dipshit" She laughs as they walk towards the Impala. They hear the door to the sheriff department burst open.

Some officers run out, jumping into a couple squad cars in a hurry. They turn on the sirens and speed down the road. The three exchange looks before jumping into the Impala and following behind.

________________________________

They drive by where the cars stopped, the sorority where Lori Sorenson was staying. There, they look out the window to see Lori at the back of an ambulance looking distraught. Dean, however, drives past the scene and parks behind the sorority house.

They all jump out of the Impala, looking around to make sure no one sees them. Dean jumps up on the ledge, connecting to the house. Y/N follows behind as Sam does the same. They creep to the back of the garage to see some cops and cop cars in the alley.

"Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from Nine Mile Road" Sam queries as they creep through the back. "Maybe he's not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it's about something else" Dean suggest and a few sorority girls come out the side of the house.

The three pull back a into a corner so they don't see them. Sam pulls himself into the ledge and Y/N gives him a boasts, pushing him up to the ledge. "Dude, sorority girls." Dean says checking them out. "Think we'll see a naked pillow fight?" He says perversely and Y/N taps him at the back of his head.

"Ow!" Dean exclaims, holding the now sore spot on his head. "Come on Peeping Tom. Gimme a boast" She grumbles and Dean helps her. When she gets up, she puts her hand out to help him up and he grabs on. Getting up on the ledge, they creep to the side of the house.

Sam opens the window to Lori's room and pushes his body in. Y/N follows behind with Dean getting in last. Y/N ends up falling ontop of Sam. "Crap sorry" She whispers. "It's okay" He whispers back. Sam gets up and Dean ends up falling ontop Y/N, causing her to groan in pain. "Oh, sorry" Dean apologizes a little too loud.

"Hey. Be quiet" Sam grumbles, shushing him. "Me be quiet? You be quiet" He retorts. "Fellas settle down" Y/N growls at both of them and their mouths snap shut. Dean closes the window behind them and Sam peers lightly at the door of the closet.

Outside is an officer scanning the crime scene, blood on the bed with police tape across it. When the officer steps out and goes downstairs. Sam opens the door and they quietly walk into the room. Written across the wall in blood with a symbol below it is 'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?'

"Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light? That's right out of the legend" Y/N points out, reading the quote on the wall out loud. "Yeah. That's classic Hook Man alright" Dean says, stunned. "And it's definitely a spirit" He adds, tapping his nose.

"Yeah. I've never smelled ozone this strong before" Sam agrees and Dean walks over to peek at the crowd out the window. "Hey, come here" Sam calls him over. "Does that look familiar to you?" Sam asks them, pointing to the symbol underneath the quote.

They head back outside, the three of them leaning against the front grill of Baby Y/N pulls the autopsy report from earlier with murder weapon, the hook, engraved on it is the same symbol on the wall.

"It's the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Carnes" Y/N says, standing between the boys against the car. "Alright. Well let's find the dude's grave, salt and burn the bones and put him down" Dean suggests. "Hard chance there" Y/N says and Sam takes the report from Y/N and reads.

"After execution, Jacob Carnes was laid to rest in Old North cemetery...in an unmarked grave" Sam reads, flicking the paper in anger. "Super" Dean says sarcastically and they all get off of the car to head back in. "Okay, so we know it's Jacks Carnes but we still don't know where he'll manifest next or why" As Sam says this, Dean pulls a paper off of his windshield reading it.

"I'll take a wild guess why. I think your little friend Lori has something to do with this" Dean says, opening the drivers side door, Sam and Y/N pile in behind, confused.

________________________________

Later they all end up at a college party in hopes to find Lori. "Man, you've been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome" Dean says enthusiastically and Y/N chuckles. "This wasn't really my experience" Sam says plainly. "Oh, let me guess. Library, studying, straight A's" Y/N says and Sam nods.

"What a geek. Alright did you two do your homework?" Dean grumbles and Y/N laughs. "Yeah. It was bugging us, right? How is the Hook Man tied up with Lori?" Sam starts to explain. "So we think we came up with something" Y/N says, opening the paper and showing Dean.

"1932, Clergyman, Arrested for Murder....1967, Seminarian Held in Hippie Rampage.." Dean reads off of but Sam cuts him off. "There's a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality and then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out, get this, with a sharp instrument" Sam explains.

"What's the connection to Lori?" Dean asks them. "A man of religion...who openly preaches against immorality" Y/N says as if it's obvious and Dean nods. "Except maybe this time instead of saving the whole town he's trying to save his only daughter" Y/N finishes.

"Reverend Sorenson. You think he's summoning the spirit?" Dean adds asking. "Maybe" Sam says but something comes across Y/N's mind. "Or... you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?" Y/N suggests. "Yeah. The spirit latches on to the reverend repressed emotions and feeds off them...yeah..okay" Dean agrees.

"Without the reverend even knowing" Sam says. "Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight" Dean tells Sam and he nods. "What about you two?" Sam asks them. Dean looks over at a hot young blonde chick with a sly smile on his face. "We're gonna see if we can find that unmarked grave" Y/N says smiling tightly.

Deans smile drops "But I-" He goes to contest but Y/N smacks his arm. "The case comes first" She says firmly and he groans disappointed. "Man you're no fun" He mumbles as they walk out of the building. "Do I need to show you how fun I can be?" She scoffs and his smile reappears. "You're on" He retorts and they laugh walking out.

________________________________

A little later they walk through the Old North Cemetery, flashing their lights at headstones. While walking through they hear some twigs snap and holt in their tracks. They begin walking a little deeper in and Y/N draws the headstone with the symbol from the murder weapon to Deans attention.

"Here we go" Dean says as they approach the grave and began digging. After some time of digging, Dean gets frustrated, "Thats it. Next time...I get to watch the cute girls house" Dean huffs as Y/N rolls her eyes. "Shut it and dig, Winchester" She orders and he groans but obliges.

Y/N hits something hard and knocks her shovel into the pine coffin, breaking the top half of it. "Hello preacher" Y/N says and they jump back above ground, over the hole. Dean gets up first and extends his hand to help Y/N out. "Such a gentleman. Guess chivalry ain't dead" She jokes and he laughs.

Y/N grabs the lighter fluid and salt and Dean strikes his matches. Y/N throws the salt all over the bones and drenches it with lighter fluid. Dean strikes the match, lighting it aflame "Goodbye preacher" He says before throwing it into the coffin. Allowing it catch into flames.

Y/N's POV

Yeah that's it. If I hear this guy talk about boning another girl one more time. I'm gonna blow my head off. I still don't understand why I'm getting all worked up over hearing Dean talk about other girls. Yeah I had a crush on him growing up but that was ages ago. I don't think it's possible I could still have feelings for him like that.

Regardless, it's freaking irritating. I need to figure this out. What I know for sure is, even if I do like him in that way. He can't possibly feel that way about me. Screw what the shapeshifter said, it's not possible for him to feel that way about me. For Christs sake, he calls me his little sister. Yeah he flirts but he flirts with everyone dammit.

________________________________

Dean and I rushed to the hospital after hearing Lori's dad was attacked, we see Sam down the hall and run towards him but some cops try to stop us. "Hold on there, kids" The cop says to us. "It's all right, we're with him" I say.

"Yeah. That's my brother. That's- Hey, brother" Dean says cheekily, smiling and waving at Sam. I follow waving at him. "Let them through" The sheriff tells the cops and they oblige. "Thank you officers" I say sweetly before me and Dean walk towards Sam who meets us in the middle.

"You okay?" Dean asks him. "Yeah" Sam assures us. "What the hell happened?" I ask. "Hook Man" He responds. "You saw him?" Dean asks. "Damn right. Why didn't you guys torch the bones?" Sam asks us annoyed. "What are you talking about? We did" I defend.

"You sure it's the spirit of Jacob Carnes?" Dean asks. "Sure as hell looked like him. And that's not all. I don't think it's latching onto the reverend" Sam adds. "Well, yeah. The guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself" Dean states and we look back to the room where the reverend is situated.

"I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night, she found out that her father is having an affair with a married woman" Sam explains. "So what?" Dean asks. "So she's upset about it. She's upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe if you do something wrong, you get punished" Sam explains further.

"Okay, so she's conflicted" Dean says. "And the spirit of Preacher Carnes latching on to her repressed emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing" I suggest. "Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl...Dad has an affair" Sam puts the pieces together.

"Remind me not to piss this girl off" Dean says cringing. "But we burnt those bones. We buried them in salt. Why didn't that stop him?" Dean asks. "You guys must've missed something" Sam suggests and I shake my head.

"No. We burnt everything in that coffin. I doused the son of a bitch with lighter fluid. Whatever preacher is latching onto, it ain't in that coffin" I say firmly and something dawns on me. "Holy crap. The hook" I say in realization. "The hook?" Dean asks.

"It was the murder weapon. And in a way, it was part of him" Sam says shrugging. "So like the bones, the hook is a source of his power" Dean says in realization. "So if we find the hook.." Sam starts. "...we stop the Hook Man" We all say in unison, smiling and nodding

________________________________

"Here's something I think" I say, sitting between the boys at a desk in the library, reaching for some kind of information. Dean pulls his pen out of his mouth and they peer over to look at the book. "Logbook, Iowa State Penitentiary. Carnes, Jacob. Personal effects...disposition thereof.." I read out of the book.

"Does it mention the hook?" Sam asks. "Yeah, maybe. 'Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the Prisoner's House of Worship to, St. Barnabus Church' " I read out loud. "Isn't that where Lori's father preaches" Sam asks and I nod. "Yeah" Dean says. "Where Lori lives?" Sam adds scoffing in irony.

"Maybe that's why the Hook Man's been haunting reverends and reverends daughters for the past 200 years" Dean says. "Yeah but if the Hook were at the church or Lori's house, don't you think someone might have seen it? I mean, a blood stained silver handled hook?" Sam suggests. "Check the church records" Dean says and gets up to grab the record book.

"St. Barnabus, donations. 1862. Received: silver handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged" Sam sighs, reading the record book as Dean sits across from him and I sit next to him. "They melted it down. Made it into something else" I say shaking my head

________________________________

We end up back at the church, hoping to find the reforged hook. "Alright. We can't take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire" Dean says as we walk towards the church after getting out of the car. I nod and Sam says, "I agree"

"So, Lori's still at the hospital. We'll have to break in" Sam tells us. "Alright. Take your pick." Dean says to us. "I'll take the house" Sam says. "Okay. We'll take the church" I say and he gives me a curt nod before he heads over. "Hey" Dean calls out to his brother.

"Stay out of her underwear drawer" Dean says smugly and Sam scoffs while I laugh. "Not everyone is you, Dean" I say laughing as we walk towards the church. "Damn right they ain't princess" He winks at me and I felt my heart flutter a bit. "Whatever charming" I grumble laughing.

We immediately get to work after breaking in, throwing everything silver into the first. "I got everything that even looks silver" Sam says coming down from the stairs with a bag. "Better safe than sorry" Dean says and Sam hands me the bag. I put it down and me and Dean start emptying stuff into the fire.

Some floorboards creaking caught our attention, we holt in our actions, looking up into the direction of the sound. "Move, move" Dean ushers us to go up the stairs. We all creep behind, following into the church. Dean has the shotgun in hand, ready to shoot.

In the distance on one of the pew, we see Lori kneeling, crying as she prays and my heart gives out for her. Sam looks at us and walks towards her as me and Dean go back downstairs to finish up burning the silver.

"Let's hope after this he finally gets some" Dean chuckles as we walk downstairs to burn more silver. "Is sex all you ever think about?" I laugh, grabbing some silver to throw in the fire. "I'm a growing boy, Y/N. Hormones and all" He smirks at me and I snort. "Oh you're something" I retort as he laughs.

"You okay?" He asks me concerned. "Yeah why?" I ask back surprised. "I don't know. I just haven't seen you smile much in the last couple weeks and it's weird because you're always smiling. I'm just concerned" He says nicely. "Woah, Sammy is rubbing off you on there champ. Are we gonna braid each others hair next?" I joke and he rolls his eyes laughing

"Bite me" He grumbles, throwing the last of the silver in the fire. "Maybe I will" I counter and his eyes snap up to mine. My breath hitches in my throat as his eyes pierce into my (e/c) ones. Our heated gaze is once again cut short by some ruckus above us in the church. We immediately bolt into action.

Dean runs in with the shotgun in his hand and I grab my iron cuffs out of my boots, clutching it to my fingers. When we run up we see Lori on the ground, the Hook Man towering over her and Sam pulling himself out of a bookshelf.

"Sam! Run!" Dean yells as we run and Sam ducks as Dean shoots the spirit. Sam and Lori at on the ground, gasping for breath. "I thought we got all the silver!" Sam exclaims. "So did I!" Me and Dean say in unison. "Then why is he still here?!" Sam yells. "Well, maybe we missed something" Dean states the obvious.

My eyes flicker over to Lori's necklace. "Lori, where did you get that chain??" I ask her. "My father gave it to me" She says hastily. "Where'd you dad get it?" Dean asks roughly. "He said it was a church heirloom. He gave it to me when I started school" She explains. "Is it silver!?" Sam asks loudly.

"Yes!" She confirms and Sam rips it from her neck. When he turns to us, necklace in hand, we hear a scraping behind us. Turning to see the Hook man scraping the wall down the hall. Dean throws the shotgun and some rounds of salt to Sam, which he catches, while simultaneously Sam throws the necklace and I catch it. We run down the hall to go downstairs and burn the necklace.

As we run down we hear a shot fire. Throwing the chain into the fire which takes it sweet time to burn, it finally catches a flame and melts. Me and Dean cheer before hugging, he picks me up and spins around. My heart flutters when I realize what just happened. He drops me back down quickly but gently, clearing his throat.

"Sorry...got caught up in the moment" I say softly. "We're good" He nods at me winking and we run back upstairs to see Sam and Lori in the floor. Happy and sighing in relief.

________________________________

The next morning the police is questioning me and Dean meanwhile Sam is getting patched up by the ambulance. "And you saw him too? The man with the hook?" The officer asks us for the millionth time. "Yes, I told you. We all saw him. We fight him off and then he ran" Dean explains exhausted.

"And that's all?" The officer asks. "Yes sir, that's all" I say calmly. "Listen, you, your brother and girlfri- " The officer goes to say to Dean and he begins walking off. "Oh, don't worry. We're leaving town" He says annoyed, cutting him off and I hold back a laugh. Walking with him towards Baby.

As we're walking to the car I ask him, "aren't you freaked out by it?". He cocks his eyebrow at me, confused. "By what?" He asks me, leaning against baby on the drivers side while I lean on the back right passenger side. "People assuming I'm your girlfriend" I ask shrugging and he freezes.

I couldn't help but notice the tinge of pink the rose on his cheeks but I choose to brush it off as the cold weather. He just shrugs and says nonchalantly. "Cant tell people what to think" He jumps into baby before I could respond and I take that as the end of that conversation. Don't get you hopes up L/N, he will never look at you that way.

I jump in and look through the side mirror to see Sam and Lori talking by the ambulance. "You think he's gonna do it?" Dean asks me. "I think he already did it" I say back and he snorts, looking slightly disappointed as Sam walks off and towards the Impala.

Sam gets in, sighing a bit and holding his head. "You alright Sammy?" I ask him concerned and he nods. "We could stay" He says to Sam and he shakes his head sadly. Dean and I look at him worried but with that we make our way out of there.

________________________________

Authors Note:

This is once again, unedited and to whoever is reading thank you for reading and being patient with this upload. I appreciate your support so so so much.🫶

Xoxo

[oddmawd]

THE ART OF QUEEN SACRIFICE - A Dark Doflamingo Romance

SUMMARY: In chess, a player commits “queen sacrifice” by intentionally giving up their queen to gain a significant strategic or material advantage upon the board. But life is not a game of chess, and such strategies are easier prescribed than practiced — a lesson the princess of Mary Geoise will personally learn when she offers her hand in marriage to the infamous pirate warlord Doflamingo in order to spare her beloved kingdom from his wrath. [Pirate!Doflamingo x Princess!OC. Unnamed/undescribed OC for x-reader fans.] [Pirate AU. Yes, a pirate AU for One Piece. It makes sense in context, promise.]

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

AO3 Link - This fic is hosted in its entirety exclusively on AO3

FANDOM: One Piece

PAIRINGS: Doflamingo x OC (can be read as Doffy x Reader)

RATING: E(xplicit)

WORD COUNT: 8 chapters total, 75k+ words

GENRE: Dark Romance

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Stalking, Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Intrigue, Corruption, Chess, Chess Metaphors, Strategy & Tactics, Yandere, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Pirates, Princes & Princesses, Eventual S m u t, Romance, Dark Fantasy, Non-Linear Narrative, Fairy tale vibes, Cis Female Reader, Cis Female OC

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, s m u t in chapters 6-8, Doflamingo is a manipulative bastard

CHAPTER 1 - EXCERPT

The princess of Mary Geoise stood upon the balcony to watch her beloved kingdom burn.

She dressed plainly for the occasion. No finery, no frills, no fuss. That night she wore but a simple gown and plain shoes, bare of all regalia but the bauble she never took from around her pretty neck. She clutched this necklace in her shaking hands for comfort. Most days she hid it beneath her clothes, tucked under modest necklines and away from the prying eyes of her maids and watching father, but the time for such caution had passed.

They were almost at the end, now. Her father could levy no punishments graver than what awaited her come dawn.

“My lady.”

The third and newly appointed general of her father’s armies — for their enemies had slain the first and his replacement alike — bowed upon the flagstones at her feet. Distant fire reflected in the depths of his worried eyes. The princess could not remember his name, though she recalled the black tattoos upon his hands well enough. She bade him stand with a nod, gaze returning to the tableau of destruction playing out before her. Fire had not yet touched the noble quarter, but sparks rose to the stars at the city’s edge, spreading inward through the other districts in a sullen, rust-red ring.

“What news?” she asked with the taste of ash upon her tongue.

“Our blockade has fallen. Pirate forces breached the city walls.”

She closed her eyes. “How many?”

“A-all of them.” The general swallowed. “The Pirate Warlord sent them all.”

From his rightful place atop the conquered throne, her weary father murmured, “Don’t…don’t call him that.”

The wan-faced king sat slumped, mouth slick with wine, fingers clasped around the neck of the seventh bottle he’d downed since news broke of the pirates reaching his kingdom’s shore. He did not look like a king that night. Tonight, he was just a man, the dignity of his station crumbling in the face of imminent defeat.

And like a diamond that had lost its luster, he was ignored. “Pirate ships block the harbor,” said the general. He answered to her, now — a princess in name but the kingdom’s queen in practice.  Especially after the secrets that had recently come to light. “There can be no escape. Not anymore.”

He needn’t have said it. The princess already knew. A game of Monarchic Chess sat behind her, half complete, tiles of the board arranged in the shape of her kingdom, the game of this attack splayed out upon them in perfect, miniature detail. But although the game was not yet finished, she could already predict the outcome. The number of ships, the element of surprise, the pirate warlord’s tactics…her forces were outgunned, and with no warning to aid them, they were outmaneuvered, too. The blockade had been naught but a desperate, last-ditch effort to repel his forces, her final attempt to save them — to save not only herself and the monarchy, but to save the people she had vowed to protect. Her people were the ones who truly mattered in this scenario. She had known her efforts would fail from the outset, and that she acted on their behalf in vain, but hope compelled her try for one last chance at victory.

A chance now slipping through her fingers, as impossible to grasp as hope itself.

“Thank you, General.” She turned from him, and from her father, and returned her attention to the kingdom she had failed. “You are dismissed.”

But he did not leave. Instead he said: “There’s more.”

Bitter laughter charred her throat. “What more could there possibly be?”

“Messengers from the Pirate Warlord — from the enemy.” He corrected himself with a sideways glance at her father. “They came to tell us citizens have been taken hostage.”

Her blood ran cold. “How many?”

“Hundreds. Our operatives have confirmed it. They are gathered in groups, held at gunpoint.”

She considered this for a time. “And the Warlord’s demands in return for their safe release?”

“He…” The general looked as stunned as she felt. “He hasn’t made any.”

“So far,” the princess murmured. “There is still time yet.”

And so she waited. The general left. In his absence, advisors slinked from their hiding places in the shadows of the throne room to stand about like carrion, black-cloaked and beady-eyed, waiting for the corpse to pick clean with their sharp beaks. They wrung their hands, watching her. Whispered in her father’s ear, though he was too drunk to heed them. Many though they numbered, and brilliant in their own right, they were no help to the princess. They never had been, she ruefully mused. She alone had been their savior for many years, unknowing all the while, fighting their battles for them atop the Monarchic Chessboard. But now, even with eyes at last open to the truth, she was helpless to deliver them from this hell on earth.

It was over. It was well and truly over.

High in her tower above the city, the princess’s eyes burned as she gazed at the burning kingdom, lids heavy and thick in their struggle to remain open. So many sleepless nights. So many games played. So many tears spilled that evening, and in the many evenings before the Pirate Warlord attacked her borders outright. But all had been for naught, and now he marched upon her shores. Her enemy, her foe, her villain — he would be here soon. Soon, she would look the devil in the eye, and fall.

Unable to resist, she allowed her tired eyes to close. Smoke and ash rose from the burning city. Wind caressed her cheeks, her throat, even her hands as they clutched the necklace she loved so much. But the cold comfort of the jewel on her palm could not guard against the distant screams of her people as they were menaced by the pirates who had laid her father’s armies to waste. There could be no comfort for the princess as the noose prepared to pull tight around her throat. There could be no stopping the ring of fire sweeping toward her.

Closing her eyes was an insult to the citizens she had failed to protect. They did not have the luxury of awaiting their fate from the impersonal height of a palace tower. 

Thus, she opened them again to stare into the heart of her burning, beloved capital…but to her surprise, the image before her did not match the horrors in her head. The fiery horizon had not moved. The ring of fire had not closed. No, it somehow held steady, a constant halo of destruction that had moved not an inch deeper into the capital city and the palace waiting at its heart. The onslaught had been held at bay by…she knew not what. Had the invasion halted? But why?

What was the pirate warlord waiting for?

Her hands left the stone parapet along the balcony as she whirled to face the throne room.

“You there,” she asked, but the advisors scattered like crows under the stone of her gaze. She turned instead to the guard at the door. “Where is the general?”

“I can find him, Princess,” the guard said, scrambling. “I can — ”

He vanished through the huge oak doors. She returned her stare to the line of fire. Her knees ached from standing on the cold flagstones for hours on end. The princess had not moved since they received word of the unified pirate army’s invasion of the capital, but she refused to sink into despair alongside her wilting father. The bauble in her hand gave her strength. Oh, that beloved pink jewel she wore on its delicate chain — it gave her courage even when weariness clawed her eyes and dug sharp teeth into her psyche. She rolled it through her fingers, weighing it on her palm and giving the sparkling gem the smallest kiss when she thought no one was looking. The diamond held more than mere glitter or monetary value. It held the very core of her dreams in its facets, glinting back at her with a thousand possibilities and all the lives she might have lived had the unthinkable not occurred.

But the unthinkable had occurred. The war had been lost. The pirates had won. She would never be able to tell the person who had given her the gem how much his words had haunted her since their parting. She would never be able to tell him she wanted to reconsider the offer she had rejected. She would never be able to take his hand and say yes as she so longed to. That possibility had gone dark the moment the fires lit. If only she had met him in some other life, perhaps — 

The door opened, and the general said: “He has stopped advancing, Princess.”

She spun in a tangle of skirts. Once again the general knelt upon the stones behind her. Her father moaned atop the throne, but she hardly heard his cry of despair.

“Have our forces rallied?” she asked, but there was no hope in her heart. “I did not think they would be capable — ”

“No. They are not capable.” He passed a tattooed hand over his weary face. “He could press forward again at any time. He has the forces to destroy us in an instant.” But here he paused. “And yet.”

“And yet he has not.” Her hands fisted, fingernails scraping soft skin. “Why has that monster — ?” She shook her head. “He is just a man.”

“Princess?” asked her general.

“Never mind.” She dropped her hands and turned, head held high, tired eyes unyielding as they dragged her scattered advisors from the shadows. “Tell me again. Tell me everything you know about him.”

“We have told you everything already, Princess,” they whispered.

“Then tell me again,” demanded the princess, “about the Pirate Warlord Doflamingo.”

READ THE REST OF CHAPTER 1 ON AO3. CLICK HERE!

[idalenn]

Day 4 - Reticent

Worqor Zormor - Lillian and Alisaie switch up the plan to harry the Second Promise. (7.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred, Urianger

Full text below the cut

Quick as a lie, Lillian’s hand snapped away from her forehead and a golden cord yanked Alisaie whole into her grip.

“We’re changing the plan,” Lillian growled, twisting the younger girl around to get at the leather tube slung across her back. “Alisaie, you and Krile stay with Wuk Lamat, and I’ll head off the others at the pass instead.”

“What’s come over you,” the girl cried. “So. Suddenly?” Wrenching with all force in her Elezen frame, she tried to free herself to no avail. Lillian’s arms were muscle woven with steel.

“Thancred got the best of us. Heard all we – quit moving – intended. They’ll expect your harassment up ahead.” Her deft fingers slid around the tube’s hooks, undoing them one after another. So much easier without gloves, she thought. In short order the map was flapping in her hand. “But not mine.” Krile nodded, clarity writ plain on her face.

“The Echo. We’ll leave this to you, then.” She knocked their Hrothgar claimant across one hand with the dripping end of her brush. “Worqor Zormor awaits us, Third Promise. Our friend will rejoin us once she’s finished.”

Confusion reigned over Wuk Lamat’s own expression. “Does anyone care to enlighten me on this?”

“It must needs be later, I’m afraid. Just run for now. I’ll do my best to inform you of the basics on the way.”

“So it goes.” Wuk Lamat’s shoulders slipped with a heavy sigh. Beyond a protesting Alisaie, Lillian hurriedly crumpled the map into a long green pocket of her cape. “I bring you into my circle for help and you look to escape me at the first chance. Sometimes I think you just can’t toler-AH–” Wind took the rest of her words, loose earth and shards of rock showering the remaining party as Lillian raced off with its power at her back, yalms melting away with each stride.

 Up the path she went dodging around fallen stone outcroppings and growths of blue and violet crystal, the image of the Second Promise’s ascension on a column of air with Thancred and Urianger in tow still burned into her eyes. Not one soul in that damned town malms below had mentioned that was a possibility. Or perhaps her attention had fallen off at the wrong time in conversation and missed its passing mention in one of many grand tales she had been forced into hearing, some unexplainable act that had allowed the defeat of a rampaging beast like Valigarmanda. That was the irritating part about scholars like Koana; legends always held a grain of truth, and those learned as he always knew how to exploit those grains. Like as not down in the valley there existed some Sharlayan device he’d built capable of calling tempests to aid him.

Irritated, she slammed her staff into the mountain face and flooded it with aether. Juts of jagged, black stone ground out, dislodging flora that had lain root in the rock and birds that had found roost in the plants. Once extended enough for use, she bound up the cantilevered platforms, staff readied, its tip alight with pearlescent aether. One bird arrowed towards the Miqo’te, squawking complaint till light and petrichor found their mark, the smell of roast windkin filling Lillian’s mouth with water and nearly sending her feathered cap flying into the abyss. She almost shed a tear as the bird tumbled limp trailing feathers through the clouds.

After the last step, Lillian found herself on a mountain ledge flanked by a low rise of boulders and flowered moss. She drew out the time weathered map and flattened it on the ground, tsking at a tear she made in her haste to abscond. Wuk Lamat had been correct, but why waste time and confirm to the child claimant what she already knew? She was haughty, naïve, self-absorbed, and above all, a fool who believed Lillian’s actions took her well-being into consideration.

Were you not similar once, and did you not learn better? The voice of logic nagged. Quiet. Never so much as she, Lillian thought back, smoothing the spot Thancred pointed out to the Second Promise; a wide pass dotted with the ruins of ancient walls

“Alisaie plans to harry us here. She’s a quick-footed little pest, but we’ve battled alongside long enough for me to know exactly where her faults lie, and I’ve been itching for the opportunity to knock her down a peg or four. I’ll have her in bed without supper and you your victory before the Third Promise realizes she’s been made.”

We’ll see if you can manage the same against me, she thought, stuffing the map back down, wind licking at her heels as she ran. Beastkin poked their soft, red noses from their dens as she passed and retreated just as quickly. Excitement made her ears unable to stay still. They beat a dangerous leather heartbeat against their coverings sewn into her cap. Her thoughts were smothered, but so were the land’s whispers.

The ruins were a short jaunt away. There, the ground was soft and pocketed with fist-width craters filled with tepid water. Vegetation grew verdant from the civilization’s desiccated corpse to cover the bones in green embrace.

There it was. Along the path to the mountain’s summit, a towering stone barrier stood solemn. Dutiful. For a Miqo’te clad in forest colors: easily concealed behind. Some great hand had torn a hole through its skin and left a passage from ruin to path providing the perfect redoubt from which to utilize a White Mage’s magic against unwary passersby. Lillian sprinted across the sodden field, her mind bursting with all the possibilities to slow down her opponents.

As she reached the hole, a white blur faded into the open space.

A reticent blur of white absent of sound, of tension, of presence and definition. The pressure of existence swelled gradually with each fifth of moment. Her brain fired desperately on every available detail.

Bulk; clothing; the jangling of canisters; his interwoven bandolier; plant musk hiding his scent.

Thancred?

Who could claim the greater surprise? Not he, who knew of a coming. Not her, who knew of an arriving.

But if anything, he didn’t appear surprised at all. In fact, he was even –

Smiling?

A strong, hardened jaw stared back at her, yellow teeth glinting from a light growing –

From below?

A tickle started in her brain. Understanding came before the knowing.

Water flew into her hand from the puddle below before growing outward in a blue, glass-thin sheen in the path of the gunblade’s edge, hardening into a shield faster than the blooming muzzle flash. The explosion sent her flying back in a trail of dust and smoke. Powder smell filled her nose. Her ears rang with a cannon blast. Wind gathered thick around in a shroud of green aether to carry her from danger, willing herself to land upright on stable ground.

But as she did, a sigil circled with arcane letters expanded across the stone.

Rolling in the air, her hand wreathed in blinding green tore across the space as a wave of wind struck her full in the side mere ilms from the sigil, lifting the Warrior of Light to send her tumbling bodily across the ground and out of the way of harm as the sigil vanished in a thunderclap of dust and heat. Coughing up more dust caught in her throat, she turned blazing yellow eyes to the cloud of soot obscuring her would-be assailants.

“Bastards… the both of you.” She rose on shaking legs. Shards of broken stone had ripped tears in the cloth of her garb. Blood sheathed from a deep, muddy cut on her arm, but nothing else felt broken.

“Come now, we’re all friends here, and what’s a scuffle between friends.”

Thancred sauntered out from the debris, a shite-eating grin ballooning across his handsome features. Following suit with a light chuckle was Urianger, his astrometer spinning at the ready with cards prepped for reading.

“Our comrade believeth her hand superior to thine own.”

“Count yourself lucky that Alisaie hadn’t been the one around that corner.” Lillian spat a globule of saliva laced with red. “You might have killed her.”

“And I would have been eternally guilty for the act, make no mistake.” Somehow Thancred’s smile grew wider. “But, thankfully, no luck was necessary. You came around just as I had planned.”

“Planned? Ha!” Lillian tossed back her head to laugh. The movement made her wince. “Unless one of you can divine the future, my being here is all luck. And where has the Second Promise gone?”

“Ahead,” Thancred said.

“Thou would beggar of us an explanation?”

“Please. I’m all ears – hold…” She held up a finger hazy with radiant white and plunged the digit into her ringing ear. As the aether healed the damage from Thancred’s attack, the plants around her feet withered into brown husks and crumbled to join the dirt. “Apologies – Now I’m all ears.”

“Your Echo.” Thancred wore the face of a child swimming in an ocean of unwrapped candies. At Lillian’s widened eyes, he continued. “A most useful tool in our adventures, being allowed to witness past events as they occurred. But only as they occurred.”

“Of strength in sight does it boast, yet Master Thancred, awash in inspiration and long accustomed, privy to thine Echo’s potency, hath discovered the flaw in its making.” He held a hand to his lips and laughed lightly. Lightly and restrained. “Deceived we were, as means to deceive you.”

Lillian shook her head. “Somehow I believe this is just some trick to keep me here.”

“Oh, you were tricked, all right. Now your turn comes – what did the Echo show?”

“And why would I tell you?”

“You saw us discussing plans with Koana; plans to ambush Alisaie; plans in which I spoke of knocking her down a peg or four? You witness events exactly as they occur, so once we witnessed you succumb to the Echo’s effects…” Thancred placed a hand to his forehead.

“Into the fold were the Second Promise and I giveth allowance, and a trap thus lain for our dearest friend.”

Thancred’s fingers drummed along the gunblade’s handle. “Do pass on my thanks to Alisaie. Had it not been for her plot on Ultima Thule confirming you’ve density common with archon loaf, this endeavor may not have been as fruitful as hoped.”

The skin under Lillian’s left eye began to quiver. White aether burst at her wounded arm as the dirt crumbled into fine powder under her boots. “I hope you realize what you’ve earned.” Her words came out as a low hiss, the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.

“A prize, I wager! And a prize Urianger and I have wished so long to taste.”

“Indeed. We bringeth all our might to bear, that we may witness might worthy of song and notoriety, what bringeth even eikons to heel.”

With a malicious cacophony, like to an endless sea of keening glass, from Lillian’s back spread opalescent wings of aether aflame, size and ferocity swelling until she was rendered a silhouette before their crescendo. Sensation of needles prickled against the Scions’ skin, and the myriad wounds below notice across her flesh steamed forth white clouds until hale and closed.

“Try not to choke on it.”

[diorkyeom]

「✦」 oh, how i adore you | TEASER

joshua x dokyeom, non-idols, friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, inspired by "jump then fall" by taylor swift

READ THE FIC | WANNA BE TAGGED?

teaser word count: 860 (full fic ~ 22k)

warnings: none

notes: this was meant to be part of a svt fest but,,, the disorganization of the mods bothered me so i dropped out lmao. couldn't abandon the fic tho, so i finished it here! there are vvv blatant references to the song lyrics but like. it's a very seoksoo coded song. what can i say.

summary: "and joshua… well, joshua had realised something. seokmin’s laugh was, without a doubt, one of the best sounds that he had ever heard." - in which joshua always has and always will do anything for seokmin, and perhaps that should have been his first sign that he'd well and truly fallen for him a long, long time ago.

Joshua had met Lee Seokmin for the first time during his third year of university.

It had been an odd encounter, but it had been an encounter brought on by one Yoon Jeonghan, and so when Joshua thought about it, by that man’s standards it hadn’t really been all that odd in the slightest.

“Joshuji,” Jeonghan had declared one afternoon, opening the door and flouncing through the small dorm into their kitchen, dragging a tall boy by his oversized hoodie sleeve behind him. “Meet the first-year that I’ve collected this year.”

Joshua, who had been peacefully sipping his fifth coffee of the day, didn’t even bat an eye at Jeonghan’s declaration. “Another one?”

Even in the present, Joshua could very truthfully admit that Jeonghan had been the sole reason he’d decided to carry on going to uni in Korea and not turn on his heel and return to the States three months after the first day. 

It was because Jeonghan had had this… thing, where he liked ‘collecting’ first-years in their literature department who he wanted to take under his wing. During their first year at uni, he’d latched onto Joshua, who’d been a confused Korean-American student that Jeonghan had, for some reason, taken an immense liking to. Their second year, it had been Lee Jihoon, prickly and snappish but who had a hyper boyfriend who Jihoon stared at with hearts in his eyes.

It was a weird, almost mother hen-like act from Jeonghan, but it was a sweet habit, and Joshua had long since given up questioning anything that he did. 

And so, a little absently, Joshua had turned to look over at Jeonghan’s newest adoptee, a polite smile on his face, before promptly freezing.

“Meet Lee Seokmin,” Jeonghan had said, proudly, like a mother introducing her favourite son. “Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, because goodness, Lee Seokmin really was cute.

He was biting his lips nervously, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie before Joshua finally made eye contact with him, and his eyes rounded as if surprised that Joshua had looked his way.

And then Seokmin waved, before ducking his head, as if attempting to (unsuccessfully) hide behind Jeonghan’s much shorter form. The action was so startingly cute that Joshua couldn’t help the genuine smile that tugged at his lips, giving a small wave back even if Seokmin looked too busy avoiding his gaze to see it.

“Hello,” Joshua said, and awfully, his voice managed to crack on that single word. Jeonghan stifled a snort. So, in order to cover the awkwardness, Joshua did something even more awkward, and stuck his hand out in Seokmin’s direction. “I’m Joshua Hong. Or, Hong Jisoo. You can call me whatever’s easiest.”

Seokmin had stared down at his hand for several seconds, confused, and Joshua wanted nothing more than to turn back time and restart this entire interaction because really, how much more embarrassing could this get?

Before he could retract his hand, trying to forget the handshake and hopefully forget the new layer of awkwardness, Seokmin leaned over and grasped Joshua’s hand, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looked up at Joshua, eyes startlingly warm and earnest.

His hair was awfully fluffy, Joshua realised suddenly. And he had big eyes.

He looked like a large, adorable puppy, if adorable puppies were tall uni students who drowned themselves in oversized hoodies.

Seokmin’s cheeks were rather flushed as he shook Joshua’s hand, eyes wide. He had a brief thought that maybe Jeonghan had chased him around their apartment block until he finally reached their floor.

Jeonghan did that sometimes.

And then Seokmin smiled, so brightly like a blinding beam of sunlight, his earlier perceived shyness completely forgotten as he released Joshua’s hand and instead lunged forward to engulf the elder in a hug.

“Hello!” Seokmin chirped, arms still wrapped around Joshua’s shoulders, and when he pulled away, he was still smiling so widely that Joshua felt a little dazed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonghan hyung’s told me a lot about you. I like your eyes! Can I call you Shua hyung?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden and random bout of chatter coming from the boy, but Seokmin’s eyes were lit up with that white gold light and he was so cute that Joshua couldn’t be anything but endeared.

“Sure,” he said amusedly, and marvelled internally at how Seokmin’s eyes crinkled and he seemed to vibrate happily on the spot. “You can call me Shua hyung.”

Seokmin let out a small laugh, delighted. “Shua hyung!” he cried, and then launched himself into Joshua’s arms again, pulling him in for another hug as the elder stumbled back, arms wrapped securely around Seokmin for balance.

Jeonghan had met Joshua’s eyes over Seokmin’s shoulders, face set in a curiously indecipherable expression. When Joshua furrowed his brows, he just grinned, nodding proudly. “Seems like I chose my first-year very well.”

And, well, Joshua couldn’t say anything at that, because Seokmin still had his face buried in his shoulder and he was just so warm and friendly and also because—

Because Jeonghan might have been the tiniest bit correct.

[theatrelove3000]

You’re On Your Own, Kid

This is the first Obi-Wan fic I have posted, let alone let someone other than two close friends read. It took me three months of no time, energy, or inspiration to finish this, but it’s finally done, and I am actually really proud of it. I am thinking about expanding this, depending on the time I have and the inspiration as it comes. Let me know if you like this and want to see more!

Sith! Obi-Wan x former padawan reader

Warnings: I suck at warnings. Uhhh, dark side, mentions of death, maybe manipulation, kissing but only a little, canon violence (dude gets an arm cut off), lightsabers, Sith! Obi. I think that is it. The reader was his padawan but they didn’t start training together until she was already an adult. The reader wears a dress but I don’t think I used pronouns?  Lmk if I missed anything else.

Summary: When your master suddenly falls into the darkness, you are left alone to be subject to the watchful, judging, mistrusting eyes of the Jedi Council. It’s one thing to lose a master, you’ve lost one before Obi. It’s something else to lose the man you love. Especially when you can still hear his whispers. 

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You’re On Your Own, Kid! Recommend listening while reading this

Three months, two weeks, and six days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw Obi Wan. He'd go on missions that could be that long, or longer, but this time stretch was harder because you know he isn't coming back. Obi Wan is gone. He left the order. He abandoned you. 

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You try to stay upset and hurt about it but it's becoming more difficult by the day. Watching your master walk away from the only home and family he ever knew was a major shock to everyone. He always preached about how the Jedi Order was good, right, and peaceful, yet suddenly, he was gone after causing quite the stir in a council meeting.

He had come back to your shared apartment and marched right over to you, grabbed you by your elbow and drew you into his chest. He was always more physically affectionate with you but this was something different. Something unsettling. He had wrapped you in a tight hug, breathing in the scent of you before dropping his head and whispering one thing in your ear. 

"My chains are broken. The force has freed me."

And then he was gone.

It was explained to you later that your master had fallen and you were to be reassigned to complete your training. You had been set to take your trials for your knighthood in a few weeks but due to Obi Wan's sudden switch to the dark side, they feared you harbored the same beliefs he revealed he had to the council. 

Your new master is… for lack of a better word, an ass. She is your third master. Your first one, who had selected you at a young age, died a few years back. Obi Wan decided to complete your training, since you were just three or four years from knighthood, already an adult. This new master is short and cold and uncaring. You had just been through a rapid and difficult transition and she held no compassion in her eyes, only wariness and dislike. She didn't trust you. 

No one did now. All the friends you had no longer speak to you because they fear you are unstable and dangerous. You never showed signs of leaning into the dark side but because Obi Wan fell, you also must be dark. His apprentice. Only Anakin still speaks to you. Occasionally, Master Yoda invites you to meditate with him as well, though you suspect he is doing so to check on your signature. Master Yoda is a kind and gentle soul but he must be wary. You understand. Sort of. 

It isn't until the heat of summer fades and cool winter winds start to blow that you start to hear him.

My darling.

Little dove.

Sweet one.

Angel.

The terms of endearment your master used to call you whisper through your mind, as though he were right behind you. You feel his presence when you're alone and see him in your dreams. You'd thought if you dreamed of him, they'd be nightmares but they aren't. They're sweet dreams. Almost memories but with slight changes.

Mornings after nightmares when you'd wake in his bed wrapped in his embrace, though he lets his hands wander more. Presses kisses to your neck and shoulders. Messing up on purpose during training so he'd have to wrap his arms around you to fix your form but he stands far closer, holding you tightly to his body. 

You knew you loved him before he left but he never showed signs of returning the feeling. It wasn't until he was gone that the signs appeared. For a while, you thought it was just your mind grieving the loss of him. That is, until he comes to you. 

~~~~~

Anakin manages to convince the council that you need to get out of the temple, take on a mission again. He's always been persuasive, though at first the council wasn't inclined to grant his request. Through many meetings and solid evidence that you're not like Obi Wan, they allow it on the condition that he keeps you in his line of sight at all times. He agrees readily and tells you to pack a bag. 

After explaining the mission, he takes you to Padme so she can help you find a dress. You're attending a gala the senate is holding in order to ease tensions, though with the way the galaxy is now it will only raise them. 

That's how you find yourself standing in a big ballroom wearing a long sleeve, floor length dress. Despite the dress still being modest compared to the other women around you, you still feel exposed. Your Jedi robes leave everything up to imagination but this dress does not. It's more form fitting and accentuates certain parts of your body in a very flattering way, while still being conservative.

"My, my. What have we here? Did you lose your way, Little dove?"

The voice makes you freeze. You spin around, looking for the owner but see no one. You shake your head, hoping to rid yourself of the panic and hope that had appeared with the voice.

"Did you stray too far from home? Do you need help finding the path?"

You know his voice better than you know your own. He's here somewhere. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can't see him.

You turn slightly, searching the crowd for Anakin. He's talking with some of the senators, Padme by his side. He's occupied.

You start walking.

Letting yourself out of the ballroom, you wander through the halls of the massive building the gala is being held in. You had seen a terrace when you first arrived and been escorted in. There it is. You open the doors and step out into the cool night air. 

You don't hear him as he follows you or as he shuts the doors to the terrace. You don't hear him take the last few strides necessary to stand behind you, closing the distance between you. The only sign that you were correct is the feeling of his hands on your hips. They're warm and strong and certain, just as they always were.

"My Little Dove." His greeting is whispered into your hair just above your ear.

"Master-"

"I am not your master any more, my darling." He interrupts you, his voice sending goosebumps down your arms. "I am simply a being you meet in your travels as a pawn in a game your side can't win. I am only a man who has missed you very dearly."

You take a deep breath, praying your voice won't shake as you respond, "you wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't gone."

The hum he gives in response is deep, seemingly coming from low in his chest. "It was time for me to go. I hope you can understand. Places to be and people to see, you know."

"You left me. You abandoned me like everyone else." 

He tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into them. "I did not abandon you. I never left you, Little Dove. I was always there, always watching. It may have been from a distance but you were never alone."

You try to control your emotions, keep your cool, "Your leaving the Order has shown me I have always been on my own. I didn't choose this life, Obi Wan. It was thrust upon me before I was at an age that I could understand it. I don't remember the sound of my mother's voice. I don't know my father's name."

"I didn't choose it either, darling. Very few of us did. To be entirely honest with you, I dreamed of leaving and yet I stayed. Do you know why, my Little Dove?" His fingers are tracing up your sides delicately, never straying into areas he has not gained permission to touch. 

Your voice cracks a bit as you respond, "Why, Obi?"

"I stayed because I needed to be around you. Your presence is my vise, your signature is, simply put, addictive to me. It was inappropriate for me to have the feelings I do for you while you trained under me so I kept them at bay as best I could." His nose grazes your temple as he speaks, the edge of his beard lightly scratching your cheekbone as he speaks, "I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Those around us began questioning our relationship. They said horrible things that I will never allow to reach your innocent ears. I could have killed anyone who ever said anything nasty about you. I still can. All you have to do is ask."

Your breathing falters, though you can't tell if it's from fear or shock or something else. If he catches it, he doesn't say a word. "I don't want that. Murder is still wrong, no matter where you stand politically."

"Ah, but don't you see, my Little Dove? I don't wish to kill for political reasons. I kill for you. Anyone who ever hurt you deserves to go."

"You're frightening me, Master," you whisper shakily. He responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

"I do not wish for you to fear me, my love. I only want to protect you, to keep you safe. I can continue to do that from afar as I have been these three months. Or… you could come with me." He keeps his voice low, fingers stroking your sides delicately.

"Where? Where would you take me?"

"Home, Little Dove. I will take you home."

You close your eyes, feeling your resolve beginning to crumble. Suddenly the warmth of your former master against your back is gone. You turn and he's nowhere to be seen. The only sign that you did not imagine it is the phantom feeling of his hands on you. 

"All you have to do is call for me, my Little Dove. I'll come to save you from your golden cage." 

Suddenly you hear your name being called. It takes you a moment to register that it's Anakin's voice. He sounds a little worried. You turn all the way around for the first time since stepping onto the balcony. You use the force to open the doors.

"I'm here, Ani"

His head snaps to face you at your voice and he quickly makes his way over to you, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It was a little stuffy in there. I just needed some air. I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't think I'd be gone long." You let him lead you back inside. Instead of taking you back to the ballroom, he escorts you outside where Padme is waiting.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't lose you. That… would not have looked good on me." He laughs a little, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, "it's time for us to head out. We're going to be escorting the senator to her suite in the hotel and then going to our room."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," you bow slightly dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He laughs, rolls his eyes at your playfulness and shoves your shoulder as you start walking, both of you flanking Padme. 

~~~~~

And that's how it began.

You start answering him when he whispers into your mind. You didn't even see him that night but you know it was real. Even if it wasn't, you hope that you continue to hear him. You start feeling him as well. You even catch hints of his scent from time to time. Always when you need him the most.

Those moments became more and more common. The weight of arms around you in those few blissful moments between sleep and wakefulness make you think of him. He whispers encouragement as you train with your new master, even the occasional reminder to help you correct your form or a suggestion to make a motion easier for you. He's still helping to train you. Apparently your four years with him didn't make him sick of teaching you.

It's your next off-world mission that starts to cause your foundation to crumble.

Anakin had convinced Master Windu that he could take you off-world with himself and Ahsoka instead of being with your own master. It was a simple mission. Get into the separatist base, steal the information, get out. 

When is anything ever that simple?

Your cover was blown quickly and it doesn't take long to realize this was a trap. You are separated from Anakin and Ahsoka somewhere in the crossfire between your troops and the battle druids. You find yourself in an empty hallway alone, not even a clone behind you.

Looking around, you move back towards the way you came, only to realize you are more than a little lost in this base. You reach out your signature to find Anakin but are met with a different signature. Another, more familiar one.

Obi Wan.

Before you can take a moment to think it through, you're running towards it. You chase the warm, blue signature you've grown oh so attached to deeper into the base. When you reach a door that you can feel him behind, you pause. Pressing your palm flat against the cool metal, you reach out again. Reaching for him. He responds by tangling his signature with yours, but doesn't open the door. You hear a click and realize it's the lock. He unlocked the door. The door still doesn't open. He's giving you the choice. It almost makes you cry.

He is giving you the option to reach him. He isn't forcing you into anything, simply waiting to see how you decide. The Order never does that. All they do is command and demand and give expectations to meet. It's exhausting. You're tired. You miss him. 

"Obi?" You whisper to the door. As a response, you hear a small thud on the door as he presses his hand to it where yours is. You can feel the pressure of his power through the door. He whispers your name back to you.

"I'm frightened," you feel your eyes start to water, voice breaking softly, "I just want you."

"I know, my darling. It's alright if you are not ready yet. I'll wait for you. I'll wait an eternity for you." His voice is louder than yours, but not by much. You want to open the door but can't bring yourself to do it. He can feel it. You know he can. His signature brushes over yours gently again, soothing you. He was always good at that.

"I have to go, Master. I'm sorry. I need to find Anakin." 

"It's alright, Little Dove. I'll be with you. Always."

You nod and take another moment of weakness before pulling away and running the way you came. It takes you twenty minutes to find Anakin and Ahsoka again. As you reappear, Ahsoka crashes into you, hugging you tight.

"Are you okay!? Your comms weren't working. We've been calling you and sent troops to find you but we couldn't! What happened? Where did you go?"

You push Ahsoka back to look her into her eyes, holding her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm fine. I got lost in the hallways. The droids were coming from that way so I handled it. I just got confused on my way back to you. All the halls look so similar."

You try cracking a joke as you notice Anakin watching you cautiously. He knows something. Looking over, you cast what you hope is a charming smile in his direction. He nods and gives a small smile in return but still looks concerned, though you can't tell if it's for you or because of you. 

When you return to the Temple, the council convenes to be briefed on the mission. Anakin credits you with destroying a majority of the Droid squadron within the base. The council seems to be a mixture of impressed and put off by this news. You're not surprised.

You feel nothing for them anymore. They don't do anything but cause more problems for you and those around you. Most Jedi would say the most dangerous feeling to have is hatred. Some say anger. Others will tell you that hope is the worst thing to feel, especially in this war.

No. The most dangerous thing a Jedi can feel is indifference. Indifference causes one to not have loyalty to those they have been sworn to. With anger or hatred or even hope, it shows one still feels attached to something. With indifference, it is not so.

Your indifference is what Obi Wan was waiting for. 

~~~~~

The next mission you are sent on is the one that sends you over the edge. 

It's another gala you are to attend, this time undercover as a senator's aid. The moment you arrive, you reach out for Obi Wan. You search the room with your eyes and your signature, praying to the Maker that he is there.

As the evening progresses, you stop looking for him. You become distracted by doing your job, working the crowd and getting more information you've been sent to collect. Though the council has seemed to develop more trust in you over the last couple of months, they don't trust you entirely. You have another Jedi with you to keep an eye on you. You don't remember his name, and it doesn't particularly matter to you anyway. He's just a security measure to protect the Order. 

"Pardon me for interrupting, Senator Gunray. I was hoping I might ask this lovely young lady for this dance." His voice drips across your ears like bacta over a burn. Your posture relaxes as the senator you were speaking with bows out gracefully, promising to speak with you again later.

You turn and finally see the man you've dreamt of for five whole months, though if you're honest, it's been longer than that. He looks dashing in his white suit and cape. As your eyes trail up from his chest, you catch the hairs of his auburn beard lift as he smiles at you. You see that smile next, the shining and slightly arrogant one you grew used to throughout your few years of training with him.

He reserves this smile for you. The one that shows his pride but also a glimmer of praise for you. He softens whenever he sees you, even if it's isn't noticeable to anyone else. It always was to you. He was a good and kind master, but a better friend. In this smile, you see your friend. 

You raise your eyes to meet his and your breath catches. The cerulean ocean you are used to seeing is gone, replaced by molten gold, framed by dark lashes, which seem darker than they used to. Maybe it's just your imagination.

"Remember to breathe, Little Dove. I fear you will pass out if you don't."

You let out a small huff of a laugh as you smile and glance down to your feet. You see him lift his hand to under your chin, raising your eyes back to his. You can see him searching your face for something. He must find it or you are imagining it because he draws away again, offering you his arm to take.

"I believe I offered you a dance, my love. May I have one?"

"Yes, my lord." He leads you out onto the floor. A waltz starts not long after he pulls you into position. As you dance, he keeps you closer to his body than the other partners on the floor. You don't mind, letting yourself melt into his arms for the first time in several months.

Obi Wan was the one who taught you to dance. He had been trying to help you learn to make your movements smoother, more choreographed as you dueled. You kept making jagged, uncoordinated movements that caused you to lose your footing or leave an open spot for someone to strike. Obi had taken your Saber, tossed it and his own to the side, then pulled you in gently. He kept a respectable amount of space between you as he placed your hand on his shoulder and his own on your waist, holding your opposite hand. And he taught you to dance. Slowly, you got the hang of it and he moved back into the forms you were learning. You never lost to him in a duel again.

The dance sessions became almost a regular occurrence. He'd hug you when you were upset and slowly rock you, letting it turn into a silly little dance to make you smile and giggle. He'd kiss your head and twirl you just to make you squeal or blush. Those are his fondest memories of being in the order.

"I have a question for you, Darling."

"I will answer anything you ask of me, Darth Nighte," you respond without hesitation.

He grins widely and lets out a laugh. "You always have, haven't you? My good girl."

You blush slightly and look away from him to hide it. He doesn't like that. He lifts your chin again and raises an eyebrow, warning you not to look away again. 

"Did you pick this gown to get someone's attention?" He says it in a teasing tone but you know what he is asking. Is the dress for him?

The dress you selected for the gala was bought with what little you had saved over the years. You had gone out into the city on one of your rare days off to buy it. It was in the shop window and you'd asked to try it on. It was a long sleeved, dark blue dress with tiny gems to make it appear as though you were a part of the evening sky. It's a bit lower cut in the bust than you thought you'd be comfortable with but seeing the way he admires it, you know it was the right decision.

"I must confess, my lord. I fear I am no longer a good Jedi. You see, I find myself disagreeing with the rules and growing agitated trying to suppress my emotions. It feels like I'm being pulled down a different, new path. I can't stand the rule against attachments. I have found that attachments only make you stronger. Maybe that is what they are afraid of…" you trail off as you realize how much you spoke but he holds your eye contact and nods for you to continue. "I have found myself deeply attached to a lord at this very party and I had hoped he'd find the dress pleasing."

"I'm sure he does, my darling. Do I know this lord, do you think?" He knows. He always does.

You smile and glance around as though making sure no one was listening, "I think you know him very well, my lord." 

"Then I suppose I'll leave you to him." He starts to release you but you grip onto him tighter. He laughs again, a sound you truly and sorely missed.

Together, you and Obi Wan danced for several more songs. You talk occasionally but mostly bask in the comfort you bring each other. As the night dwindles on and draws to a close, you know you have a decision to make. A path to choose.

Obi Wan senses your panic and turmoil. He searches your eyes again before leading you off the dance floor to a little alcove on the side of the ballroom. He presses you back against the wall and lets his body tower over yours. 

"My angel, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. I don't intend to steal you away and hide you from the galaxy. It is your decision. This is your life. Lead it how you wish to. No matter what you decide, I will always love and support you. Even if I must do so from afar." He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You can feel the love in his signature. True love. Pure love. How can a feeling so pure be so bad? 

Lifting your chin slightly, you let your nose brush his and hear his quick intake of breath. He leans further into you slowly, giving you time to pull away from him. To say no.

You never will.

He lets his lips brush yours. It's gentle, simple, peaceful. He lets you decide how to proceed. Slowly, your hands move from where you had pressed them to his chest up into his hair to pull him closer. He hums in pleasure and pushes you further into the alcove. He kisses you the way you imagined he would. Gentle but dominant. Kind but leading. Persuasive. The Great Negotiator, indeed.

You pull away first, needing to breathe. He lets you go but keeps his forehead against yours. 

"Obi?" You whisper to him.

"Sweet One?" He responds.

"Am I ready now?"

"That, my dearest little dove, is not a question I can answer for you."

You nod, feeling the tears form. His hand is holding your cheek and jaw on one side. He can feel when they start to fall. He coos gently and pulls you into his chest, whispering reassurances and words of love.

"I don't want you to go again. It hurts when you go, my Obi." You mutter through the tears. Obi Wan pulls away enough to hold your face with both hands.

"I don't have to. You can come with me, Darling. I have a place for us. It's safe and quiet and peaceful. It's perfect. I made sure it's perfect for you. All you have to do is say yes. Little Dove, you can stay with me. Come with me."

His voice isn't commanding or ordering you. It's… begging. He's begging you to stay with him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you look up at his eyes. They're no longer gold the way they were before. They're darker now. Green. Your breathing picks up as you kiss him again. It's a soft, quick kiss. He reciprocates, waiting for your decision.

"Home?" You ask him. He smiles against your lips and nods.

"Home." 

"Obi Wan. Take me home."

The burst of joy in his signature is more than enough to convince you that this was the right decision. He kisses you fiercely before retreating and standing up straight. A lord once again. Offering you his arm, he leads you back into the public eye.

As he escorts you through the front doors of the building and towards the hanger, you are stopped by a voice yelling your name. Your Jedi babysitter. You forgot about him. Obi Wan stiffens as he hears it as well, turning his head just enough to see the man behind you. You try to keep going but Obi Wan has stopped. Your panic is beginning to rise again. You'll never be free.

"You are to return to the Temple with me immediately, Young Padawan. This is not a debate."

"I-" 

"My apologies, Jedi, but I believe she has made her decision." Obi Wan's voice is calm but there is a hint of a threat in it. He's daring the man to oppose him.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but that will not be happening. She has been asked to return to the Temple."

"Senator? Do you hear that, my darling? Senator. The level of disrespect tossed about by the Order is truly insulting. He doesn't even know my name."

You keep your eyes on Obi, pleading with him through your signature to just take you and go. In your bones, you knew it wouldn't be this easy. If only.

Obi Wan turns and the Jedi recognizes him. His eyes, now returned to gold, are a dead giveaway. The Jedi draws his weapon and beckons you over, holding his hand out as he calls your name again. 

"This man is not who you think he is, Padawan. Come with me." He reaches for you again but you take a step back, closer to Obi Wan. 

"Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, Master. Or… I think perhaps I am." Glancing up at Obi, you see him watching you with curiosity and… hope. You haven't seen hope in so long you almost don't recognize it. 

Your Obi nods at you, just once, and takes a step back. The Jedi is gazing at the both of you with confusion and horror as you look at Obi Wan.

"I told you already, Little Dove. This is your decision. No one can make it for you." His voice calms you. There's no malice in it when he directs it at you.

"He's trying to trick you, Padawan. It's time to go now." The Jedi got close enough to grab your wrist and begin to pull you away. The moment he touches you, your lightsaber is in your hand and the Jedi is screaming. You open your eyes and see the man's arm on the ground between you. His lightsaber falls from his other hand and Obi Wan comes to pick it up. You feel your hands shaking as you watch him replace the Jedi's Saber on his belt before reaching a hand out to you. 

"Are you ready now, darling?"

You look between Obi's hand and the man's arm and then at the blood on your gown. You take Obi Wan's hand and leave the Jedi kneeling on the ground of the hanger as you're taken onto your love's ship. He sits you down and pulls off his cape, draping it over you. It's heavier than it looked. He helps to strap you into the co-pilot seat before getting into the pilot seat.

As the ship lifts off, you catch a reflection in the glass of the cockpit window. Your eyes are surrounded by a ring of gold.

You feel Obi Wan take your hand as you reach hyperspace and let him smooth his thumb over your knuckles. You glance up at his beautiful eyes and see they are the blue you missed. You realize something that nearly brings you to tears again. You've been on your own for most of your life, especially when it got hard.

You don't have to be alone anymore. You have your Obi Wan.

~~~~~

@meshlasolus @vi-does-stuff @star-whores-a-new-hoe @turtlelover59 @lowkeyorloki 

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 & 𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: A third part commission for the lovely @ghostofpolaris to really tie that knot between Mina and Alucard hehe 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Mina Belmont (OC) 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.9k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, references to past sexual trauma

You coo at the little baby in your lap as you collect another spoonful of mashed vegetables to feed him. You’re sitting outside Dracula’s Castle which stands at the heart of the little village that’s ever under construction. Simon Belmont has been left in your care for a few hours while Trevor helps with construction and Sypha teaches a group of villagers with all the knowledge she has as a speaker. Alucard is teaching another group the basics of medicine as there have been one too many incidents involving the many construction sites around the place and it’s always useful to have people on site who know how to attend to injuries. Trevor is helping with the construction of a new house and so with the other three people of your little quartet being occupied, Simon has been left to your care. 

You don’t mind in the slightest though as your nephew is an absolute delight. He rarely cries, he’s easily entertained but he does have a habit of wandering off if you turn your eyes away for too long. He’s almost one year old now and you’re sure you’ve never seen a baby crawl so fast in your life. He truly can give you a heart attack if you’re to take your eyes off him for a moment and then turn back to find him gone. But currently, he’s enjoying his food too much. He has his mother’s eyes and you believe that his hair will likely darken with time in order to resemble his father’s. 

You finish feeding him and clean his face and hands gently with a cloth before giving him some water too. With a smile on both your faces, you bounce your nephew on your knee as he makes little baby noises at you, pulling giggles from your lips. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alucard has finished tutoring for the day and is standing in the open doors of the castle, looking at where you’re seated just past the bottom of the steps on a blanket, caring for your baby nephew. The sight brings a smile to his lips at seeing how loving and caring you are, how happy you are to be looking after him. The two of you have done your fair share of babysitting together when Trevor and Sypha have needed a break, you’re always more than happy to look after him. 

Things have changed a lot in the last year but the two of you have also been incredibly busy with helping to build the village and teaching not only yourselves but classes of villagers too. You’re often too tired at the end of the day to spend your evenings with chats, books and music together like you used to. Not to mention you’ve also been spending more freetime with Trevor in order to try and reconnect with your brother and amend the rift that had grown between the two of you, something that Adrian didn’t blame you for in the slightest.

That’s not to say that the two of you didn't spend time with each other at all. There have been nights where one of you will find yourself unable to sleep from the stress of the current list of responsibilities upon you and so you will find yourself in the other’s bed and arms for comfort to finally drift off into sleep. 

Adrian still holds you with your back flush to his toned chest, arms encasing you and his breath puffing out softly against the nape of your neck. The bodies have been removed from their stakes outside, naturally, when the castle was attacked and the village later built upon it. He finally told you just what they had done when you helped him burn the bodies amongst a stack of other fallen foes and night creatures. The story chilled you and you could, in fact, recall such marks upon his body when you first arrived but you had focused less on his scars and more on his alcoholic state when the two of you first became acquainted. But now that you recall them, his haunting story makes so much more sense. 

It crosses your mind sometimes when you’re laid in bed together and his lips are parted just slightly while he holds you in his arms. You’re a Belmont and you know how to assess the behaviour of non-humans. Alucard has very dangerous, very powerful fangs and he keeps them hovering above such a vulnerable part of your body when you rest together like this. On one hand, you’re glad that he has a way of holding you while also feeling safe. But on another hand, you hope that there will come a day when he feels safe enough to not feel that it’s not necessary for him to do such a thing. 

Though, you do have to admit, you missed that little window of time wherein Alucard had recovered from his period of alcoholism, had been looking after himself more and was much more welcoming to you compared to the cold nature that you had initially been introduced to. You missed how you’d play the lute and piano together, you miss how you’d lean in so close to read from a book that was set on his lap and how he would very occasionally put his arm around you to hold you close in the later days when he was more comfortable with you. 

Now when you go about measuring up boarded castle windows for repairs and replacements, it’s no longer with Adrian by your side and, in all honesty, you miss how he would have you hold one end of the tape measure to the sill of the window while he would float up to measure the height at the top. Just little things like that: you miss being able to spend more time with him. 

Right now though, you do have one of those precious moments with him as he comes to sit down on the blanket beside you and Simon. He leans on one hand which he places on the ground beside you so that his body hovers close to yours as he smiles at the little baby in your lap. You find yourself leaning back just enough for the back of your head to rest against his strong shoulder and Adrian takes the opportunity to shuffle even closer to you, feeling your warm body against his as you make baby noises back and forth with your nephew. 

The happy moment is smeared, however, when Adrian wonders if his parents ever had experiences like this one when he was just an infant: sitting outside the castle on a nice day, just your little family of three. They had all been so happy once and now he and his father’s castle with its broken engine were all that stood in the remains of the tragedy that had befallen his once peaceful and loving family. He had learned about science at his father’s knee, about medicine while perched on the edge of his mother’s desk. He had grown up in a bedroom that was designed by his parents, playing with toys that they made. There were other times that he was left to the care of tutors when his parents were busy, yes, but things had been so different not so long ago and a part of Adrian finds himself aching for things to have turned out differently. 

He goes about his day working on one task after another to try and put his mind at rest and at night he focuses on the smell of your washed hair to dull the ache that is gnawing at his heart, feeling as though it is being hollowed out. What sort of son kills his own father? Regardless of the events that led up to it, that was the final result, wasn’t it? And to see both his murdered mother and father brought back to this world in the same body… he’s woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares about it since. 

How he wishes things had been different, that the two of you could have still met regardless and he could have introduced you to his family over dinner. His mother would have adored you and he knows his father would have been sceptical of you being a Belmont at first but Lisa had shared the stories of how she met his father. Vlad would have warmed up to you the moment Lisa came to love you too. They both would have loved the music that you play. 

Adrian’s fangs catch his bottom lip for a moment as he tries to steel himself. This train of thought will bring him no good right now. Instead, he indulges himself in you. He props his chin on your shoulder as you play with little Simon and he reaches a hand forwards to tidy the baby’s pale blond hair and tickle his feet. 

You turn your head to face Adrian after a few moments and you press your forehead against his. You don’t know that he’s thinking about his mother and father but you do know that things have been difficult for everyone lately. It’s been difficult for anyone to catch a break when there’s always something to be done. Agriculture is only just being established in the village and so the people’s main source of food still comes from foraging and hunting which takes time and isn’t always fruitful. It’s a double edged sword, really, because each time the group comes back with food, you all know that it means there’s less to find tomorrow and they will have to venture out further and further as the days pass. You’re all really depending on these farms to take off. 

Then there’s always materials to find for construction, construction and repairs to be done, classes to be taught, children to mind, elders to be taken care of. No one able-bodied in this place gets to sit around, you’re all up early and out doing something to contribute to building this place up from the ruins and battlefield that it had once been. 

You know it’s quite a ways off yet but you can’t wait for the foundation of this place to finally be laid so that you can have some more time to indulge in the studies that you initially returned to the Belmont Hold for and – especially as of late – to spend more time with Adrian like the two of you used to. Hopefully, you’ll be able to have more time together than you did back then too. Hopefully.

He lets out a little sigh and leans more of his weight on you as he relishes in this brief moment of respite. You’ve had a few suspicions lately about how things are weighing down on him. He’s an immortal, he has far more stamina than anyone else in the village; so why is he so sluggish lately? Why does he seem so exhausted? You know it cannot be physical exhaustion so you can only arrive at the conclusion that it is mental. You recall his stories about Sumi and Taka, about having to kill his own father, about his father’s war beginning with the death of his mother. Alucard is at the beginning of his immortal life and yet he has already suffered so much. The thought pains you that he will have to carry these painful memories and experiences around with him for a much longer time than you could even begin to fathom, that you wouldn’t always be there to support him though it. 

Has he even had time to mourn, to process the things that have happened? It seems like his life has fallen apart so quickly and now you wonder if he really, truly, feels that he’s been able to patch it back together again yet. Losing both parents is something you can never completely recover from but Adrian had to kill his father. You wonder what’s going on behind those golden eyes of his. You open your mouth to speak-

“Father!” A group of five village children come running up to you when they see Adrian sitting down outside with you. It’s not very difficult to spot him with all that blond hair of his – more often than not, you see Alucard’s hair before you see Alucard. 

A handful of the village children have taken to referring to Adrian as such. Many of them lost their father or even both of their parents during the attacks on Danesti or in the battle at the castle against Death’s forces. You can see why as well: he’s incredible with children and so it’s no wonder that they’ve come to see him as their new father figure. You find it bittersweet in a way because while it’s cute that they adore him enough to see him as a father, you take a note of how now that their biological fathers have died, they’ve chosen an immortal to be their new father figure. You wonder whether that was a conscious or unconscious decision on their behalf, whether they sought out Adrian for that very reason or whether, in the face of their loss, his immortality just drew them in. Most children might not be able to understand the concepts of mortality and immortality at all but Wallachia has been devastated recently and these children are absolutely familiar with mortality. 

“Father! Will you come to play?” One boy, the most confident in the group, eagerly asks. Meanwhile, a little girl is already smiling at the sight of little Simon in your lap and she’s waving her hand at the baby to get his attention. Alucard sits up straight and suddenly you miss the warmth of him being so close, the soft puff of his breath upon your neck. Your intimate moment is broken and once again you’re filled with a yearning for more time in the day to spend with the dhampir. 

Adrian looks away from all of you for a moment, his tongue clicking as he parts his lips, ready to speak but unsure what words to choose just yet. You can tell that he also feels the interrupted moment but these children have a special place in his heart and he would feel cruel if he let them down. They can sense his hesitance.

“We can play football! That way we’re in one space and your wife can be near and watch too!” A little girl suggests and it’s enough for Alucard’s eyes to snap right back to the group of children in surprise. It was enough to plunge the both of you into a moment of shock. Were your feelings for each other truly so obvious that the village children assumed you were married? And yet there had been no time to nurture your relationship still. Beyond kisses to hands, cheeks and foreheads, and your embraces at night when you share a bed every now and then, there has been no time to truly let your relationship blossom. 

“Very well, let’s go.” He says with a soft smile. Adrian rises to his feet and helps you up too. He collects up the blanket for you and then later lays it down beside the open space where the children have chosen to host their game. He didn’t correct them at all and it makes you wonder why as you keep Simon’s attention on you by playing peekaboo in order to prevent him from wanting to crawl away. Did Adrian think that they just wouldn’t understand what it is you have? What even is it that the two of you have together? Or perhaps is he just trying to avoid being teased by cheeky children for clearly having feelings for a woman and not having asked her to marry him yet? You hope you can get some time alone with him this evening in order to ask him. 

You watch as he kicks the ball around with the children, switching teams between each match to keep things fair. He makes sure they all play nicely and you can’t help the way that your eyes take note of how his body moves. He’s so graceful, so elegant in all he does; truly a nobleman’s son. He has all the makings of a Prince and yet he doesn’t want any of that. Somehow that only makes him more noble in your eyes. 

When lunch rolls around, Trevor comes to collect Simon from you. Adrian has gone in order to check on the hunting party that went out this morning – they’re always more successful with his wolf form helping them with the hunt. You miss him already but you don’t have time to mull over your feelings and instead join Trevor in the village hall that’s recently finished being built and you do your part to help hand out what food there is. Everyone does their part to support each other in this village after all the hardships you’ve faced together. 

You seem to walk through the rest of the day in a daze as you think about Alucard, your mind never fully focused on the many tasks at hand. Why didn’t he correct the children earlier? Did he see you as potentially being his wife someday? Why are you even so caught up on this? It’s not like either of you are close enough to even begin to consider such far-off fantasies. Regardless, the interaction has filled you with a sudden hunger, a need to have one of those precious evenings again. You’ve already decided that you’re going to spend the night in Adrian’s bed, you’ll make up something about not being able to sleep and he’ll welcome you with open arms and his fangs hovering over the nape of his neck as he spoons you. You’ll wake to his little chuckles that he never quite contains about your fiery bedhead and you’ll act angry despite the fact that you now find this routine of yours cute and- 

You sigh as you finally resurface from the bath you have been submerged in. The last rays of evening sun filter in through your bathroom window and you finally get out of the bath to dry yourself off and dress in your nightclothes. You glance at your lute which is propped up in the corner of your bedroom – your bedroom, no longer a guest room – and realise how long it’s been since you had the chance to play it. Dust has started to gather along the tuning pegs and the neck. You miss those few nights where you would be plucking and strumming strings while Adrian’s deft fingers pressed piano keys. 

You pat your hair as dry as you can and make your way over to Adrian’s room. The two of you keep these wings to yourself while others have occupied the rooms closer to the entrance while they wait to have their own homes built. It feels more private further into the castle where you are, more like how things used to be. You just wish for things between you and Trevor to be how they are while things between you and Adrian to be how they were. 

You raise your hand to knock on his door but a sound stops you from doing so; crying. 

From inside, you can hear sobs and sniffles and desperate apologies, begs for forgiveness. You knock against the door and the noise stops entirely. Both of you hold your breaths as you look at the piece of wood that stands between you. 

“... Adrian?” You call out, pausing for a few moments in silence before you continue, “Can I come in?” More silence follows and you press your ear to the door to make sure that you haven’t missed some quiet approval or denial of entry. 

“...Come in.” You hear softly from inside and you’re glad that you pressed your ear to the door or else you might have missed it otherwise. You push the handle and make your way inside where you find Adrian sitting on the floor, on the rug at the foot of his bed. He looks up at you and his eyes are a misty pink, his cheeks stained with the red tracks of his tears. 

“Oh, Adrian…” You’re by his side in an instant and trying to wipe away his tears but you instead just smudge the blood over his skin. “What happened? What’s the matter?” Your voice is soft and comforting and he doesn’t know what overcomes him when he reaches forwards and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you tightly and begins to cry against your shoulder. Deep down, he feels guilty for staining your nightdress like this but the comfort of crying in your arms outweighs his guilt. He holds you tightly, desperately, as though you’ll crumble to ask the moment he lets go. 

“I wish things had been different.” He sobs out against your shoulder as his fingers clutch at the material of your nightdress and press into your flesh beneath. You have a fair idea of what he means but you still want to be clear about things so that you can know what exactly you’re comforting him on. 

“What do you mean?” You ask gently as you bring up a hand to cradle the back of his head, holding him in return, before you begin to delicately comb your fingers through his blond mane. 

“My parents.” His voice breaks and you hold him a little tighter as the words bring yet another series of sobs bubbling forth from his lips. 

“They’d be proud of you.” 

“How could they be?” He comes back immediately and you can tell by his tone that you need to tread lightly. 

“You’re teaching a village of people medicine, ancient and modern sciences to heal the sick and wounded. Wasn’t that the life’s work of your mother?” Your nose nudges against the side of his head as you kneel on the floor with him and hold him closely. With how he has buried his face against you, Adrian’s bloody tears wet your shirt while his ear is pressed to the pulse of your throat. Your human heartbeat soothes him, lulls him. It reminds him of his mother holding him as a child, the only heart that had beat at such a pace in the castle with his being so slow and his father’s being still. “And you have done what your father could not. You’ve taken what he left you and you’ve made a community from it instead of locking it all away. Can’t you see? You’re the best of both of your parents.” You pull away to try and wipe his tears away again. 

For a moment, you attempt to rise to your feet in order to go over to the basin so that you might wet a cloth and truly clean the scarlet rivers from his face. But his arms around your waist tightens and his misty golden eyes, like winter sun behind clouds, plead with you to not let him go. So you don’t. 

“My father is dead because of me.” 

“Your father is dead because of some selfish, ignorant slaves of the church.” You correct him. “They killed his heart and… he was a dead man before he truly died, Adrian. And let’s face it, we know your father’s spirit: wherever he is now, he’s most certainly holding your mother in his arms. I can’t see anything taking her from him a second time.” You tilt your head a little as you try to reach into his soul to truly make him see what you see. “But don’t you see? You’re the best of both of them combined. A dhampir succeeding in all the generosity and charity of your human mother and spreading the knowledge of your vampire father to better the lives of those around you.” Your thumb swipes against the corner of his lips where tears have gathered. “The choices of others have made you suffer and have forced sacrifices upon you but your bad circumstances do not make you a bad person, Adrian.” You emphasise your last words so that he can hear how much you truly mean it. 

You’re surprised when his hands finally release your waist in favour of cupping your face instead. 

“I love you.” He’s not sure how deeply he means those words just yet. But what he knows is that things feel right when you’re together, that he misses you when you’re not together, that he delights in the nights you spend together and it aches when you have to part ways in the morning. Things are better when you’re around, complete and he hasn’t felt this whole since his mother was killed. He knows that his words surprises you, even without looking at the way your viridian eyes burst open. He doesn’t expect you to say it back, he’s not even sure if he can say it again. The words have just come out and he wants to be able to say them with conviction but your relationship has been given no time to grow. 

Now he’s afraid – no longer afraid that you will hurt him as Sumi and Taka did but he’s afraid that if he doesn’t do this with you now then whatever spark is between the two of you will be extinguished by all of your responsibilities tearing you from one another all the time. He’s finally ready for this, he thinks, but he just doesn’t know how to initiate it. 

You can feel the closeness between the two of you and he can see how your eyes fall down to his lips. He leans in just a little closer but he doesn’t quite have the courage to kiss you despite every beat of his heart compelling him to do so. 

“Adrian…” You begin very carefully and that same slow heart skips a beat. “Can I…?” You daren’t say it in case you spook him off. You know of his past and the last thing you want to do is pressure him or stir up bad memories. He gives you the slightest nod of his head and your lips meet his. 

Your kiss fills him with enough courage to be able to return it, to be able to pull you close as he pushes all of his fears aside and just plunges into the moment, moving so quickly that he doesn’t give himself a moment to think of everything that’s hurt him. Now, all he wants to focus on is what heals him: you. 

You’re surprised by the passion of his kisses but make no protest as you find your chest being pressed to his, legs tangling as you find your way into his lap. He’s panting already with the intensity of the moment as his lips slant across your jaw and his breath puffs out warmly against your neck. You’re a Belmont, you should know better than to let a dhampir’s fangs so close to your throat. But you’re Mina Belmont and you see no monster in the man who’s clinging onto you like his life depends on it, who’s broken and desperately seeking your body out to heal his heart. 

You reach up to pull your damp copper hair away from your shoulders and behind your back and turn your face to the ceiling. You know that this action means much more to Alucard than might meet the eye, that for one to bear their throat to a vampire is a sign of trust, of submission. You don’t yet know if you love him but you don’t doubt that such a feeling can grow and very soon at that. But you do want him to know that he’s safe, that he’s the one in control and you’re not here to hurt him. 

He remembers your words from all those nights ago, that you might be a Belmont but you’re unarmed and he’s a dhampir. He feels safe with you, he is safe with you. His fangs graze your pulse as he kisses but not once do they break your skin. He considers carrying you to the bed for a moment as his hands glide down your waist and to your rear, appreciatively squeezing as he lets out a soft moan by your ear, his lips immediately pressing to the soft spot just beneath it. But he decides that things will feel different on the floor, that he won’t think of- he pushes the thought from his mind immediately. 

Adrian snatches a blanket from the end of the bed and sets it down on the floor beneath your head as he lowers you down. He’s on top this time, he’s in control of the situation and his tears have stained the shoulder and collar of your nightgown red as though he’s bitten you… His fingers drag delicately over your pulse, his touch so sensual without even meaning to be. He finds himself wanting to bite you, to show the world that he’s yours as much as you’re his, that the world cannot keep you from him so long as you have these precious evenings together, even if his heart is pounding and he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, just that your thighs feel so warm on either side of him. 

Your hair is splayed out around you like a halo of fire and he just feels that he owes so much to you. He holds so much love for you that he cannot bear to let this moment simply slip by and he’s tugging your neckline open to kiss across your collarbones. Your hands tangle in his hair to feel the silken gold strands between your fingers as his hands reach beneath your nightdress to tug your undergarments off your legs. The moment his eyes land upon your slit, his hands ghost over your inner thighs before his gaze snaps up to you in a silent question: ‘Is this ok?’ 

You nod your head and he proceeds. His thumb traces a tender circle upon your clit before it delves between your folds to collect up the gathering moisture and push it up to your sensitive pearl. He’s spent so long being frightened of such intimacy but now that he’s plunged into the moment, that it’s with you, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, nothing else he’d rather be doing. 

You’d love nothing more than to drag out this moment for the entire night but Adrian’s sense of urgency, of need, has bled into you and you’re soon biting your lips and squirming beneath him when those fingers that had played the piano with you so well now explore you like you’re a new song to be learned, experimenting with where he applies more pressure or drags his fingers against, what tempo to move at. Soon enough, you’re reaching for his nightshirt and it makes him freeze for a moment when you pull at the ties. There’s a moment of pause and you wonder if you’ve made him uncomfortable but he looks into your viridian eyes that are gazing up at him with concern, with love and worry for his well-being and suddenly his moment of panic is over and he’s safe again. He pulls the shirt over his head to reveal the sculpted chest that you’re so used to seeing. (You had once been surprised to find out that Alucard even owns a shirt). 

He swallows thickly as his fingers withdraw from your pussy and he glances down to admire the cobweb of your arousal stretching between them. 

“This… this is enough now, right? It won’t hurt you?” You can’t help but smile softly at his words. Of course he would be worried about your comfort. He truly is such a sweet soul beneath all his layers of hurt. His words speak of inexperience but also of a want to learn your body, to be able to care for it and satisfy it. He’s trembling with the excitement of it all and you nod, giving him a little ‘mmh-hmm’ to let him know that it’s ok.

His hands bunch your nightdress up even more so that he can admire your glistening and swollen arousal before he pushes his bottoms down just enough to free his dick. You watch how exposure to the cooler air of the room makes his fang sink into his lower lip, not quite enough to break skin though. He strokes himself a few times before pressing against you and he sucks in a shaky breath at the sensation of your warm, wet slit against his sensitive tip. 

His face buries into your shoulder where he had been crying earlier – though now it’s there for entirely different reasons. He grinds his hips against yours until his cock can catch at your entrance and he finally begins to slowly sink into you. His chest presses to yours, pinning you to the ground while one of his arms snakes beneath your body. He pulls you up against him just enough to make your back arch and when it allows him in deeper, it tugs a little whimper from his lips. 

A moan is torn from your own throat at the feeling of him filling you up and your noise seems to only encourage him to do deeper. Your legs wrap around his waist though you’re careful to not do so too tightly. Adrian’s lips meet yours as he begins to rock his hips against you at a steady pace, worried he’ll finish too fast if he goes as quickly as he’s aching to do so deep down. 

He knows he’s not exactly the image of confidence and dominance right now but you’re letting him be in control nonetheless and it’s these things that you do for him, these accommodations you make in order to help him heal that just make his heart flutter for you in his chest and his lips crash onto yours as he feels your arms loop around his neck to hold him equally as close. 

The two of you don’t bother to try to muffle your sounds, knowing there is no one in this wing of the castle but the two of you and you feel Adrian hike one of your thighs higher over his hip and he moans against your lips each time you tug at his long hair which spills around you like curtains to block out the rest of the world. 

After a while, he grows more confident in his pace and his forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you with more fervour. His head swims with pleasure but your pretty moans make him think to not so long ago when stroking your clit had prompted the same reaction and so he reaches down to rub quick little circles into it. The stimulation is unexpected and fills you with sudden pleasure that pushes you over the brink of orgasm, a sensation like liquid lightning running through your veins. The tight squeeze of your walls as you finish causes Adrian to come too and he has just the faintest amount of sense to pull out of you and quickly stroke himself to completion, finishing with sticky ribbons of cum over your abdomen and clit. 

He pants a few times before leaning over you again but this time he rests on his side. You both share the folded blanket beneath your head as a makeshift pillow as you come down from your highs. 

“Be mine?” Adrian asks softly. “Only mine.” His words make your racing heart skip a beat but your head is swimming too much for words and so you merely nod. You lean in to kiss him and then curl up against his chest, wrapping your arms around him while he does the same. 

That hollow feeling in you both vanishes and suddenly everything feels whole again. 

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[elexuscal]

[redacted]

Un-Redacted

As Dr. Ayda Mensah discussed various colony evacuation options, a small removed part of her considers the command deck of The Perihelion. It possessed plush, comfortable chairs, a pleasing blue and white colour scheme, easily readable displays, and multiple clear exits. All told, on her internal ranking of Places To Be Making Life Or Death Decisions, it warranted a solid third place. (An even more removed part of her gave a wry laugh at her possession of such a list.)

"We were prepared to house a significant portion of the colonist population aboard, at least in an interim capacity," crew-member Iris was saying. "Obviously, though, the contamination situation means that isn't viable, so we'll--"

SecUnit stood up.

Ayda caught the movement out of the corner of her eyes. Honed instinct whipped her head around. SecUnit was tensed, its expression startled, alarmed.

Scared.

Blood rushing, Ayda's white-knuckled hands gripped the edge of her chair. "SecUnit, what's wrong?"

By the time she'd finished saying the words-- almost faster than she can see, faster than she could blink-- it was already at the other side of the room.

All conversation had stopped. The Perihelion had looked up from their paperwork, and even Pin-Lee had dredged herself from the legal documentation, the group collectively trying not to stare and not quite succeeding. Other people began repeating the same questions, asking if there was some danger, but Ayda could barely hear it, could barely feel her own body.

What now. What could possible have gone wrong now?

[SecUnit?] she asked.

It didn't respond.

Its expression had evolved past alert, past panic, to something wild. Its eyes were roving around the room, as if tracking something she couldn't see. Its drones were doing the same-- or were trying to. One fell out of the air, then a second, clunk, clunk. And still it wouldn't respond.

"What? What's going on?" And Amena's voice over the calm cut through the noise like no one else's could. "Has something happened?"

"Unclear." Remarkable, how steady her voice is. "SecUnit's responding to something, but we can't tell what."

Captain Seth prompted, "Any insights, Perihelion?"

[Our situation remains stable,] the ship's AI intoned. [SecUnit is sending warning alerts in the feed, but they appear distorted and irrelevant to the situation at hand. Further communication attempts are not being received.]

"Why not!?"

Despite the abject terror on SecUnit's face, it wasn't trembling. It never trembled.

[Unclear,] Perihelion echoed.

At some point in the exchange, Ayda had gotten to her feet. But of all of them, the crew-member Matteo had been sitting closest to where SecUnit now stood, and they were the one to reach it first. "Hey there buddy," they said, voice and gestures placating. "Can you hear me--"

A blur, a woosh.

When the scene resolved itself, Three had SecUnit pressed against the wall, holding itself between Matteo and the other SecUnit.

Her mind reeled, trying to piece together what had happened, but it was all too fast. Had SecUnit done something threatening, or had Three simply assumed--?

Now SecUnit was pressed into the kind of hold that would threaten a choke a human, but it wasn't fighting back. Not really. Ayda knew what that would look like, knew its speed and brutality, and this wasn't it. Instead SecUnit was flailing, kicking ineffectually, or trying to, letting out a sound terribly close to a whine--

"Three," Ayda barked. "Let it go."

Voice muffled slightly, Three began, "It is not advisable--"

"GET AWAY!" SecUnit shouted, "GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF--"

Perihelion ordered, [Let. It. Go.]

Three let SecUnit go.

"SecUnit!" Ayda said, rushing towards it, but stopping herself before she got too close into its personal face.

It had fallen to the ground when Three had dropped it, and now was clambering unsteadily to its feet. Ayda had seen it more graceful after literally being pummelled by reprogrammed assassins. "Coldstone," she said, and this time something got through, because its gaze steadied on her.

"Dr. Mensah?'

"Yes, yes, I'm here."

"You can't--" it began, and then jerked backwards, towards the door. "You need to-- we need to--"

"We need to what?"

And it bolted.

It would have hit the door head on, if it hadn't slid open at the last minute.

Ayda stared after her friend. Then she moved.

[Dr. Mensah.] Perihelion's voice in her head was cool and collected as she ran down its cooridors. [SecUnit is undergoing a major systems failure of unknown cause. A full reboot is recommended. Do I have permission to proceed?]

Permission?

Right. Yes. Because she was SecUnit's guardian, its owner, and therefore, the closest thing it had to a medical proxy.

[That will help?]

[There is a >93% chance.]

[Permission granted.]

SecUnit slowed, then stopped. A soft chime. Then it went limp. It slumped onto the floor. SecUnit Three, who of course had rushed ahead of her, caught it as it slumped to the floor.

Ayda cringed as she came to a stop, forcing herself not to reach out and take her friend from Three's arms.

The others were hot on her trail. "What the fuck--" exclaimed one of the crewmen, Ayda couldn't remember who just then-- "Was that?"

<Unknown,> Perihelion said.

But Ayda knew. Or thought she knew.

She had recognised that terror, that disorientation. Recognised it from the mirror, from the stories her partners told, of waking up screaming in the night, from the too-many times she had cried herself ragged. The way SecUnit hadn't responded to them, how it had seemingly reacted to things which weren't there.

That had been a flashback.

[animatedjen]

I just finished my second playthrough of Jedi Survivor and WOW!! The story hits even harder the second time. I came across your photos and just want to say they're amazing!! I'm new to virtual photography but I literally spent half the time this run just taking photos of everything because the game is so pretty

It really does!! Sequels are always challenging, and continuing the incredible journey from Fallen Order (while also setting up a third game) is no small ask. Survivor definitely isn't perfect, but I appreciate Respawn's ambition to challenge Cal and further develop the themes that began in FO.

And thanks! I also spend half the time running around just taking photos hah. Such a good looking game! And good looking characters! (yes, even you Turgle) I do still have hopes to make a photomode tips/tricks video - maybe after the anniversary trailer - so if you have any specific topic ideas let me know