#life is meaningless let's laugh about that. let's have a conversation we had in a pilot about it

[sharknadoblog]

seinfeld finale was good. and lost finale was good. mad men finale was GOOD. y'all just don't get it. I do tho. it's hard but someone CLEARLY has to.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

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[jayden-killer]

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,500 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a… "Child?" The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!" With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least. "Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where he was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes. "It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied: "Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!" "I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply. "Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse. I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it. "Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back. "HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands. "What the f...?!" "You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

[montammil]

Forever Be Mine, part 5

Didn't proofread this one and might regret it lol. If I need to put any more warnings let me know!

Masterlist here!

CW: Attempted noncon, yandere/creepy whumper, physical violence, food

...

A week passed and Sawyer hadn't tried escaping again. He followed Rowan around the house obediently, barely even speaking a word to him. Rowan could tell he was still miserable, but at least he wasn't attempting to run away anymore. And that was an improvement, in Rowan's opinion.

They had eaten dinner earlier, a stew made with vegetables from Rowan's garden. Sawyer hadn't spoken the entire meal, only offering a few grunts in response to the conversation.

He wasn't interested in chatting, and Rowan figured he could play along with that for now. Sawyer seemed too depressed to do anything other than follow him around and stare at the ground.

It made Rowan sad seeing him like this, but he knew it was necessary for both of them to adjust to their new life together. As long as Sawyer stayed, eventually he would grow used to it.

And if he didn't... well, that would be unfortunate for him. Rowan wouldn't hesitate to punish him again.

He didn't want to have to resort to that, but he would if necessary. Sawyer needed to learn how things were going to be from now on. Rowan wasn't going to let anyone take him away ever again, no matter what he had to do to keep him safe and sound here with him.

"My love," Rowan spoke, placing his hand atop Sawyer's own resting on the table. "Talk to me. Please?"

Sawyer slowly looked up from his plate and met his gaze. "About what?"

He smiled fondly at him, stroking his knuckles with a thumb. "Anything at all. Whatever comes to mind." Sawyer avoided eye contact, fidgeting nervously with his fork in his other hand. "Tell me something I don't know about you." He doubted there was anything he didn't know about Sawyer by now, but he wanted to hear him speak anyway.

"I dunno," Sawyer mumbled. "What do you want to know?"

He hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of any questions he could ask. "How'd you get into singing?"

Sawyer didn't respond right away. He just stared blankly at him with no emotion in his eyes whatsoever. "I just always liked it," he mumbled eventually. "I started singing in school choirs and stuff like that when I was little. My friend then invited me to sing in his band when I was around seventeen." Sawyer looked back down at his food, poking it with his fork idly. "I guess it just kinda went from there."

Rowan squeezed his hand. "How were you like when you were younger?"

Though Sawyer hated meaningless questions about his personal life, Rowan was his only source of human interaction here in this hellscape.

So he relented. "I was intimidating when I was younger. Since I was always quiet and had a resting bitch face, most people avoided me. I learned how to act 'normal' in senior year."

He cocked his head curiously. "Why?"

Sawyer huffed in annoyance. "Because no one likes me unless I do."

Rowan frowned. "I like you."

"Yeah, 'cause you're nuts."

He scoffed. "Well thank you so much for that lovely compliment." He was surprised when Sawyer laughed, albeit quietly. But it was a laugh nonetheless, which brought a smile to Rowan's face as well. "For the record, I wasn't the most popular person growing up either. I was seen as quite the nerd in school. I always got straight A's and was much more timid than I am now."

Sawyer snorted. "I can't imagine that. Well, maybe the nerd part."

He couldn't help but laugh along with him. "I'm not always this talkative, trust me." He propped his head on a hand and stared at Sawyer, unable to look away from him even if he tried. "But it's different with you." Sawyer glanced up from his plate with narrowed eyes, but Rowan continued smiling warmly at him regardless of the glare being directed at him. "When we're together, I just feel so comfortable around you, like we were meant to be."

The shorter man's smile fell into a frown. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't feel that way."

"Well, give it time." Rowan finished the last spoonful of stew and placed the dish in the sink. "Once you realize we belong together, we can truly start our lives." Sawyer only grunted in response. "Don't worry, my love. I know you're a romantic at heart."

Rowan walked over to him and held out a hand, helping him out of his chair. He guided him upstairs and into the bedroom, where Sawyer silently crawled into bed while Rowan changed into his nightwear.

He snuggled up next to him, draping an arm over Sawyer's waist and burying his face into his neck. "You smell so nice," he murmured against his skin, planting kisses up and down his throat and shoulder blade. "And you're so soft." His hand roamed across his body, feeling the fabric of his shirt under his fingertips. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Okay," Sawyer mumbled in annoyance as he tried wiggling out of his grip, "that's enough, you can stop."

Rowan ignored him and continued kissing his neck. He snaked his hand under Sawyer's shirt and caressed his belly with a thumb. Sawyer flinched away at the touch and made a small noise of discomfort.

Sawyer clenched his jaw. "I'm tired, Rowan."

He finally managed to pull himself free and rolled onto his side, facing away from him. Rowan scowled at being rejected, but didn't attempt to force the issue.

Instead, he pulled Sawyer close and spooned him from behind. He took the smaller man's hand in his own and intertwined their fingers together, bringing them to his lips and kissing every knuckle.

It was infuriating how affectionate Rowan was all the time. Sawyer had never met anyone who could be so clingy and touchy-feely twenty-four-seven without feeling drained after a few hours of it.

Just as Sawyer was drifting off, a loud boom of thunder made him jolt.

Rowan chuckled quietly behind him. "Are you scared of storms?" Sawyer didn't answer him and instead remained frozen in place. He felt Rowan lean over and press a kiss against the back of his head. "Don't worry. I'm here to protect you from any danger." Sawyer shivered at those words and could practically feel Rowan smirking behind him. "I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means fighting nature itself."

"I'm not afraid of storms," Sawyer grumbled defensively, "I just don't like sudden loud noises."

He snickered. "Sure."

Lightning flashed through the curtains followed by another clap of thunder. Sawyer shut his eyes tightly and clutched the pillow in his fists as tightly as possible.

Rowan coaxed Sawyer to roll back over to face him and brought his head to his chest. Sawyer listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart. He'd never admit it actually was pretty soothing.

"I'm not scared," Sawyer reiterated.

Rowan's hand rubbed his back in circles. "I know you aren't." Sawyer figured that was sarcasm. Another bolt of lightning filled the room in white light followed by another crack of thunder. He instinctively buried his face deeper into Rowan's chest and held onto his shirt tightly. "Shh, it's okay."

Next thing Sawyer knew, Rowan pulled the blanket to cover both of them, so the burst of white that filled the room was less overwhelming.

Sawyer's breathing slowed down after a couple minutes of being comforted by Rowan. The thunder and lightning outside wasn't bothering him anymore; it was only a mild inconvenience at this point.

...

Rowan was busy in the kitchen cooking lunch while Sawyer was washing up the dishes from their breakfast that morning. He finished drying the last plate and set it aside before grabbing a washcloth to wipe off the countertops. Rowan glanced over his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Thanks for your help today, my love," Rowan hummed.

Sawyer sighed, "yeah, whatever."

He was too tired to argue anymore with him. Anytime he would try, Rowan would silence him with a kiss or ignore him.

He felt like nothing more than an object to him these days, though he doubted there was any way to change that, so Sawyer just tried to remain patient and wait it out until he'd somehow manage to escape without a trace.

Rowan added spices to the pot and set the spoon aside. "Have you ever been fishing before?" Sawyer shrugged, setting down the washcloth and crossing his arms over his chest. "No? Well, I'll teach you if you want."

Sawyer watched Rowan drain the noodles from the water into the strainer before pouring them into two bowls. He poured marinara sauce on top and sprinkled parmesan cheese on each bowl.

"Here." Rowan placed one bowl down on the table and motioned for Sawyer to sit down beside him. He hesitated for a moment before obeying.

"It's ziti," Rowan explained, stirring his own pasta with a fork.

"I know what ziti is," Sawyer grunted and copied him by mixing his food too.

After lunch, Sawyer insisted he wanted to be alone and not follow Rowan around for once, which he reluctantly allowed him to have privacy in exchange for a kiss. The moment Rowan left the room, Sawyer rubbed at his mouth with disgust. He walked up to the bedroom and flopped on the bed face down. He laid there in silence for several minutes, unable to think clearly with all these thoughts racing through his mind.

It didn't take long for his exhaustion to catch up with him and lull him into sleep.

Sawyer wasn't sure how long he'd been out when he woke up to the feeling of lips on his neck and hands on his waist. Rowan was straddling him, pressing kisses across his neck and collarbone.

"I'm sorry for waking you, sweetheart," Rowan spoke softly. "You were making such adorable sounds while sleeping. I couldn't help myself." Sawyer tried sitting up, but Rowan forced him back down by pushing on his shoulders. "Stay," he growled low in his ear, sending shivers down Sawyer's spine. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Get off of me," Sawyer tried ordering.

Rowan tightened his grip on him until it became painful. "No," he replied firmly. "I'm tired of you pushing me away every time I try getting close." His hand found itself to the waistband of Sawyer's pants, dipping under the hem and exploring what was underneath. "Please just let me have this. I've been so patient with you."

Never had Rowan ever been this forceful. In a moment of panic, Sawyer punched him harder than he intended.

He only realized what he had done when he saw blood dripping from Rowan's nose as he released him in shock. He stumbled backwards off the bed, holding his bleeding nose. Sawyer watched with wide eyes.

"You're a fucking brat, you know that?" Rowan hissed through gritted teeth. Sawyer was frozen in fear, unable to move or speak in response.

Rowan yanked him off the bed and dragged him down the stairs. Sawyer clawed at his wrists futilely to no avail. Rowan seemed too angry to care. They stopped in front of the basement.

"No! No, stop, not there!" Sawyer had never heard his voice so raw with emotion before. "Please! I'm sorry!" He kicked and struggled wildly against Rowan's hold on him.

To his surprise, Rowan heard him out. He dragged him past to the basement, but Sawyer had no time to feel relief when he realized Rowan was leading him to the front door. Rowan pulled something from his pocket and opened it, revealing a key ring with at least two dozen keys on it. He unlocked the front door, and then proceeded to drag him through the snow and to the shed.

He shoved him inside and grabbed some rope off the wall, tying his ankles together along with both wrists behind his back. Sawyer writhed on the ground in agony as the ropes dug painfully into his flesh.

"Rowan," Sawyer whimpered weakly. "I'm sorry." He was already shivering from the cold, his thin pajamas providing little warmth against the bitter chill of winter outside. "I didn't mean to hit you."

"You should've thought about that before you did it," Rowan snapped. "But if you want space so badly, I'll do you a favor and give you it. You can stay out here for a night or two until you come to your senses." He marched back to the door and paused. "I'll come back with a blanket soon." Then slammed it shut behind him, leaving Sawyer alone in complete darkness.

It was freezing outside and Sawyer didn't even have a jacket on to keep him warm. He whimpered pitifully and tried rubbing his legs together to generate any semblance of heat at all, but all it did was rub the rope further into his skin.

All he could do now was wait helplessly until Rowan would return with something warmer. If he'd return at all.

Sawyer could hear the wind blowing against the shed's wooden walls, causing creaks and groans everywhere throughout the room. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Rowan left.

It could've been seconds or minutes or even hours by now. Every second felt like an eternity alone in the dark. Sawyer couldn't see anything around him, and all he could focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Eventually he began shivering uncontrollably as the cold air seeped through his skin, freezing every inch of his body. He curled up on his side, trying desperately to conserve body heat and prevent hypothermia from setting in too fast.

Time passed and Sawyer continued shivering in silence until he heard footsteps outside the shed.

Rowan swung open the door and carried a lantern inside, illuminating the room in dim orange light. Sawyer's eyes stung from the sudden brightness flooding his vision after being in the pitch black for so long.

"Hey, darling." Rowan's voice sounded apologetic as he walked over to where Sawyer was lying on the ground and knelt down beside him. "I brought you a blanket and some soup to warm you up." He set aside the soup and draped the large amber blanket around Sawyer's trembling frame, tucking it under him to provide maximum insulation against the frigid air around them. "Can you sit up?"

Sawyer nodded and struggled to lift himself upright against the wall. Rowan helped him into a sitting position and sat in front of him with the soup in his lap.

He noticed Rowan's face was bruised from where he punched him. He didn't feel guilty about it though. If anything, it made Sawyer happy that he'd at least had hurt him a little bit before he got thrown into this damn shed like an animal.

Rowan pulled out a spoon from his coat pocket and dipped it into the soup, holding it out for Sawyer to eat from.

Sawyer leaned forward and took a sip from the spoon. The broth was still hot, warming his insides instantly and helping to soothe his aching muscles and bones.

"Thank you," Sawyer mumbled as Rowan fed him another spoonful. "I'm sorry I hit you." He figured that's what Rowan wanted, an apology. "I just panicked. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, precious, I know that." He pressed a kiss against his forehead and wiped away tears from his cheek with a thumb. "I shouldn't have done what I did either. You've been through a lot lately and I've just been so stressed from it all. I need to be more patient with you."

"Does that mean I can come out?" Sawyer asked hopefully.

"No." The shorter man's expression fell. "You still hit me, and that hurt me." Rowan pouted and cupped his cheeks. "You're going to stay here for a little while longer and think about what you did. Once I think you've learned your lesson, then we'll talk again." He pulled away and stood up from the floor, dusting off his pants. "I'll leave the lantern here for you. If you need anything else, just yell."

And with that, he left and closed the door behind him again, plunging Sawyer into darkness once more.

[finelinevogue]

conversations with love

summary - you and harry lounge on the sofa having meaningless conversations

warnings: an abundance of tooth rotting fluff, Friday Night Dinner references, swearing

word count: -1k

Home; a place to most but a person for you and his name was Harry.

Your fiancé of 4 months, boyfriend of 3 years, was currently letting you lay against his back between his legs as you both watched re-runs of ‘Friday Night Dinner’.

It was a Friday night and miraculously Harry had the night completely off. After months of touring and recording another album, he’d decided he needed a break away from fame and to focus on you. Hence the blanket draped over you both as you played with each others ring fingers, not having moved for hours now.

“What time d’you want dinner, H?” You asked, watching as Jackie, on the TV, plated everyone’s lovely bit of squirrel.

“Um, whenever y’want love.”

“Well if I do the risotto it’ll only be half an hour.. or we can just get a takeaway?” Your voice went up at the end as you asked the question apprehensively. Harry wasn’t opposed to a takeaway, but if he could avoid them and eat your homemade food instead then he’d take that option.

Since he’s been back you both have only eaten home cooked dinners, enjoying the company of cooking together rather than the actual food itself.

“It goes against my love for your own food, love, but I am craving a takeaway now. Plus I get to cuddle y’for longer.” He said, which won you both over instantly.

Pulling you phone out from underneath the blankets you turned it on, grinning at the silly picture of you both as your lock-screen and opening up Deliveroo.

“What the hell was on your home screen?” He asked and you laughed because you knew what he had seen.

You blushed as you closed the app and your home screen came back into focus. You tilted your head back into his chest more as you giggled to yourself for being exposed.

“Are y’thirsting over me baby?” He asked, laughing at you and this picture of him on stage shirtless - his abs on full display and him just looking too handsome.

“How do you even know what that means?” You laughed even harder.

“Stop deflecting the question, love. I think you might love me, y’know?” He looked down at you and you unflatteringly looked up at him from below.

“Might I?”

“Mm.” He smiled in love.

“Well I guess I’ll have to change the picture then.” You joked and it earned a scoff out of Harry, him tickling your sides where you were most vulnerable. You couldn’t stop laughing until you managed to get him to stop.

You both continued watching the TV and passing small comments about funny moments during the show.

“Y’know Johnny used to be my crush growing up?” You said to him, referring to the youngest son, Johnny, from the programme.

“Really? I thought it was Lightning McQueen?”

“Oh yeah, obviously him too, but, like, an actual real life person it was Johnny.”

“It’s worrying that I don’t look like either of them, babe.”

You turned around slightly to face him more, softly stroking your hand over his cheek to show your affection for him.

“It’s ‘cause I found something better in you than I did them.” You smiled, working a smile on Harry’s face too.

“Nice save.” He rolled his eyes in pretence, which made you laugh. “Now give me a kiss as an apology.”

He pouted his lips and you didn’t hesitate to lean up and kiss him. His lips were as soft as petals and it made you linger for a bit longer than a simple peck. Your hand held his cheek a little harder as your lips pressed harder into his, letting out a little hum of appreciation for how perfect he was.

“Alright, alright. You’re sorry, I get it.” He joked, pulling your head back by the hairs at the back of your neck. You scrunched your eyebrows when he denied you a continual kiss, before caving and kissing you again.

You sat up suddenly, crushing Harry in the meantime and he groaned as you spoke on.

“We forgot to order our takeaway.” You gasped.

“Baby…”

“That’s your fault for distracting me.” You turned around and pointed at him with a stare, but it was hard to look annoyed at him when he was lounged so perfectly - and arm flexing behind his head whilst the other tailed beside his body and rested on the side of your hip.

“My fault? You were the one that kissed me.”

“Only because you asked me too.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, so I have to ask you for kisses now do I? Y’can’t just be spontaneous?” He playfully challenged you.

“I ask kisses off you all the time. We both slack when it comes to spontaneity.” You shook your head at him.

“No we don’t.”

“We do, baby.” You patted his chest with a sympathetic smile.

“Well fuck it then. Let’s go to the chippy for tea.” He announced, sitting up too so he was closer to your body.

“Seriously?” You laughed, watching the twinkle in his eyes appear at the sound of your humour.

“You want spontaneity? Here’s me being spontaneous.” Instead of responding to him you simply kissed him. And kissed him for all he was worth.

[behoright]

holy l b. burns (+ canes)

i could make it for you / cause you're so beautiful

summary: burnzie teaches the boys how to treat a woman by his standards.

wordcount: 5.1k 

song: holy - king princess

warnings: this is absolutely depraved. 18+ only, minors dni. smut, smut, smut. BDSM, dd/lg relationship, voyeurism, cuckolding. lots of dirty talk and baby talk. 

a/n: I… don’t know what came over me. Nobody asked for this, yet here it is. sorry. please let me know what you think !! also more love countdown coming before the end of the week. this is barely edited oops. also. this is a work of FICTION. it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone’s real, personal, private life. this is just a story: an idea, a creation of imagination, something we fantasize about. nothing more, nothing less.

𓏸 ₊ 📹 ⋆ ݂𓏸 ₊ 📹 ⋆ ݂

“Dude, is that the same chick that Jarvy hit the other night?” 

“Wait, what?”

All the boys’ heads turned to gather around Martin, whose eyes were currently stuck on his phone.

It wasn’t unusual for the team to split into younger and older guys after morning skate. They all scattered at the rink, going through the steps of their own routines. 

“That’s totally her.”

“Let me see.” 

“KK fucked the same girl as Jarvy!” Martin screeched to Andrei, who was already giggling.

Jesperi and Seth looked at each other, right before fist bumping. It was easier for them to have these conversations away from the more senior members of the team, let alone any coaches or managers.

“She was good, huh? Too bad her face looked like that!” the comment from Jarvy caused the rest of them to go into hysterics. 

“Oh man, I had to turn her around immediately. How are you going to fuck athletes and still look like that?”. Everyone laughed, as they kept chatting. Just locker room talk, no harm in that.

Burnzie, however, couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, as he stood here, incredulous. He tried to not let it get to him, but some of the comments completely crossed the line.

“You guys are so fucking pathetic.” he said. His voice was loud enough that it constantly stopped everyone in their tracks - all of their younger guys dropped silently and turned to face him.

“Oh, c'mon Burns, you know what we mean.”

“Yeah, I remember those days. You think you’re such tough shit, huh? You’ve been fucking for, maybe 4-5 years but think you know it all. Meanwhile, all those girls you’re running through go home and finish on their own because you pump and dump them. At the end of the night, you’re both left with nothing. An empty, meaningless transaction.”

They all stared at their older teammate with their jaws on the floor, absolutely speechless. They held each other accountable, but none of them had been called out this harshly in a while.

“Oh, you think you’ve got it so much better because you’re old, huh?” Jalen tried to hit back, awkwardly chuckling.

“Trust me, I know how good I’ve got it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Dude, what are you even talking about?” KK chimed in.

Burnzie picked up his bag and turned towards them before heading out. 

“If you’re really curious, come to the ranch on Friday. There’s no game, but stop by at night. Actually, think about it, and if you want, text me. I’ll let you know the details. Perhaps you’ll see and learn something that doesn’t involve a puck.” he said, tranquil, before heading out.

⊹ㅤִ ໋⊹ㅤִ ໋

All they got was an address, a time, and a set of rules for the day. It was sent as a group text to them, so they all assumed they weren’t going to be alone. As they all individually pulled up, they recognized each other’s cars. Brent had a huge property, and his house was on the outskirts. It looked almost like a manor.

“Do you know what we’re even going to do?”

“No clue. But curiosity is getting the best of me.”

“Me too. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

They were greeted at the door by a maid, who lead them through the house. No questions were asked - they were certainly being expected. Once reached a door at the end of the corridor, she took their phones, locked them away in a box next to the entrance, and left. They all looked at each other before Jarvy was brave enough to open the door.

The guys walked into a dark room. 

It was relatively small but had an otherworldly feel that none had ever experienced before. Andrei ran his hand against the black textured wall as he looked around. Huh. Soundproof. The only objects in the room were 12 chairs, all black, neatly separated, all facing a sort of window. The boys all approached it. The glass looked tinted, but they could distinctly see through it. They could see a room, with a king-sized bed, red and black sheets perfectly tucked into the mattress. A black dresser stood against maroon painted walls. A mirror enveloped the ceiling, except for a small chandelier that dimly illuminated the room, most of the light coming from the two bedside lamps sitting on the nightstands. The floor, was a dark mahogany, partially covered by a creamy fur rug that sat in front of a lit fireplace. Last but not least, in the corner of the room closest to them, a velvet futon. On the wall opposite from them, only a door stood, tightly shut.

Neci leaned closer, placing his palms on the glass.

“This looks like one of those windows from Law and Order. You know, the ones where they can’t see you but you can see them?”

All the boys looked at each other - it’s what would have made the most sense. Most of them failed to see the outline of a door in one of the walls that surrounded them until KK pointed it out. 

“Should we open it?”

“No.” Andrei said, sternly. “He stated in the text to not touch anything unless specified.”. “Man, what did we get ourselves into?”

“A show, boys.” Andrei added, nodding at the door in the bedroom opening.

Heart beating, they all took a seat. 

Burnzie entered, wearing a suit. All of the guys were very used to seeing him, in his over-the-top, almost ridiculous, custom-made suits. But this one was different. He had on a simple black suit, neck framed by a dark gray tie. They had never seen him with his hair slicked back, or with the trim on his beard that he was sporting tonight. 

Their teammate placed his hands on his hips, standing in front of the fire. Slowly, he took off his shoes, tie, and belt, and set them on top of the dresser. As he unbuckled his cufflinks, he finally looked up at the window, giving a small nod. The boys had been acknowledged. 

“I’m not sure who’s here and who’s not.” he started. “I hope you guys remembered the rules. The maximum number of you in there should be 12. No women allowed. No one from outside of the team, not today at least. “ he sighed, placing the links on a small tray that sat on the right nightstand, the one closest to the viewers. 

“You are all free to leave at any point tonight, from the same door where you came in. Once we are done, that’s where I expect you to exit. If you linger on any point of the property, be aware that I will know.” he continued, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and looking directly at them. 

“We are not able to see you from here. You can obviously tell by now that you can see every single corner of this room. Additionally, we cannot hear you either. Do with that information as you will. If I require participation, I will ask. That is the only time when you can touch that small door to your left,  where you will come in here with us. Do not touch it unless I ask you to. Do not do anything in there that my staff will not be able to clean up. And most importantly, do not take any pictures or videos. Do not talk about this with anyone else. I have all of your phones, counted and safe with me, and they will be given back at your exit.”

Burnzie was now standing directly in front of the window. Somehow, the boys felt as if he could really see them.

“Do not disappoint me, boys. This is a rare chance you are getting tonight.”

He looked down and headed towards the door in the bedroom, adding before disappearing behind it:

“Watch and learn.”

All of the guys looked at each other. A mix of nerves, tentativeness, and excitement filled the room. Neci sat in the front row, palms rubbing together, while Dylan shook his back from the row behind him. The two young Russian players, Andrei and Pyotr, found a place right in the middle, next to Martin, and were raising their eyebrows at each other. Collectively nervous, some showing more than others. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Moments later, Brent walked in, accompanied by a young girl.

You.

“Holy shit, this is really happening.” Teuvo whispered from the back row.

They all leaned forward in their seats to study your face. To their surprise, as their older teammate moved from view, they saw you were blindfolded, with absolutely no clothes on. 

Brent guided you to the edge of the bed. You could feel his presence standing in front of you.

“Do you know where we are, little one?” he asked.

“Um, in the room. The room.” you said, clammy hands placed on your lap. 

“That's right. How did you know?”

“The crackling of the fire. It sounds different in a room with no windows. I could feel the wood floor when we came in, too” you added.

“Good job, baby. So attentive, aren’t you?” he coaxed, running a hand down your hair. He had gotten closer, heat emerging off of his frame towering over you.

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, his tone already making a puddle form on the sheets under your naked body.

Brent’s hands moved along behind your head, your senses firing extra due to the blindfold. You felt his fingers untie the knot and saw him coming into vision, eyelashes batting at him as soon as you were freed. Brent kissed your forehead and kneeled in front of you, taking his lips to your right ear. 

“Do you remember why tonight is special, baby? Why is tonight a little different than usual?” he whispered. Your head snapped towards the dark glass placed on the wall to your left, heart beating faster already.

“Yeah, we have some viewers today. That’s still okay, baby?” he asked, tilting your chin back at him. You nodded, doing your best at hiding the trembling in your body. 

“I need to hear you say it. We don’t have to if you don't want to, doll.” he said, unsmiling.

“I want to.” 

Brent stood up in front of you once again, beginning to undo his dress shirt. 

“Can you remind me of our color system, little one?” he proceeded, voice stronger than before. It must have been for whoever was watching.

“Yes, um, r-”

“Louder, baby.”

“Uh, red, yellow, and green. Stop, slow down, and go.” you gulped, raising your voice shily. 

“You’re so good, love. Very good.” he said, caressing your cheek with his knuckles, now shirtless. Brent walked over to the left side of the bed, facing the window, and sat down. 

“C’mere.”

You waltzed over to him, where he turned you around and sat you on his lap, facing his same direction. The idea of someone sitting behind there, watching you, was incredibly nerve-racking, and you knew Brent could sense this. He knew you inside and out.

“They’re watching, yeah. Right there, right in front of us, look.” he said, beard tickling your shoulder as he spoke. 

“My baby, come. Don’t worry.” he whispered when he turned you around, his lips suddenly colliding with yours. Brent grabbed the sides of your face, intertwined his fingers in your hair, and split open your mouth with his tongue. The contact and dance you were having in your mouth seemed to ease your jitters. 

“They’re so lucky to see Daddy treat you like this, right?” he asked, pulling away for a split second, before attacking your mouth once again. “Yeah? So lucky, right?” he questioned you, in between sloppy kisses. You nodded your head as he overtook you completely, swapping spit with you.

“We’re going to teach them a thing or two today, okay?”. Brent looked deeply into your eyes. As much as you contractually, verbally, and constantly gave consent, he had never, not once, stopped looking for it in you. 

“Okay.” you whispered, joining your lips again with him. 

Brent took the chance to pick you up, not breaking your kiss, and moved over to the corner of the bed. You were now at the closest point to the window, where they could see you and him perfectly. They had a chance to see most angles, light reflecting perfectly off of you.

Brent’s hands moved over to your thighs, easily splitting them apart and sitting you on his legs, face to face with him. 

“You sit on my thighs so well for me, baby. Grind on them.” he said, as you uncertainly started moving your hips, peering over to the window. You knew that you couldn’t see who was there, but you were simply not able to shake the feeling off of you. 

“Keep staring at me, baby. Only me.” he turned your face back to his with a slight tuck at your cheek.  

“I want you to kiss Daddy’s cheeks as you grind on me, baby. I know you like it, c'mon.” he said, placing his hands on your hips. “C’mon my love, my princess.”

The coaxing always got you going, starting to grind your hips a little faster while kissing his face.

“Good girl. Focus on me, little one, c’mon.”. The friction of his suit pants against your bare cunt was starting to feel incredibly delightful, inching your body closer to his as you moved faster. One of Brent’s hands quickly came up and spanked your ass, pulling a moan out of you, which just invited him to smack you twice more. The more he encouraged you, the harder he spanked you, and the whinier your moans were becoming. 

“Shh, shh, that’s a good girl, right there. I know it’s sensitive, little one, I know. You’re doing so well for me.” he said, calloused hand spanking your sore spot once more. “Do you see what you do to me? Do you see my cock growing for you?” 

You could only moan. You had just started and already felt like falling apart right in front of him. 

Meanwhile, things were getting a bit stuffier in the viewing room. The boys were no longer looking or interacting with each other, eyes peeled on the couple in front of them. Even the cockiest of them, the ones that had talked themselves up the most, had fallen silent, faces completely flushed. Many of them felt grateful that the chairs had been placed at a distance from each other, giving them more private space. They were incredibly close and comfortable with each other normally, having spent a lot of time changing and naked; they were able to play and joke around it usually, with no awkwardness found there. But this was wholly different. Pyotr adjusted his hat and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, as many of them were already. 

“Ебена мать…”

“Do you want to touch it, baby?” Brent asked, looking at you, vigorously rubbing yourself on him. 

“Yes, please.”

“Do you see how good you make me feel, doll? Can you feel it, in your little hands?” 

“Do my thighs make you feel good too? My pants are soaked already, angel. Do my big thighs make you quiver and moan? You look so little when you sit on me like this, pretty girl. Does that turn you on?” Brent’s words felt like lightning shooting down your nervous system.

“Yes, god, yes.” you huffed, placing your forehead on his tattooed shoulder. 

“Uh-uh, baby, focus on me. There you go, look up at me. Are you falling apart for me, already, my little flower?”

Only moans came out as a response. Your breath was so shallow that you could think of no words. None.

“Not yet, baby, slow down. Shh, shh. Relax, my little girl, calm down.” he tightened his grip on your hips, changing the pace. 

“Make my thighs wetter, baby. Stay on my face, princess. I know, I know, baby, I bet it feels really good.”  

You looked deeply into his gaze, dark and lusting for you, and took a deep breath. 

“Look at that, look how good you’re being. You do exactly what Daddy tells you, don’t you?”

“I do, Daddy.”

“Tell them. Say it out loud, tell them.”

“I-, I do whatever Daddy tells me.” you choked out in between whimpers, face burning red.

“And why is that, baby?”

“Because I trust you, Daddy.” you said, gaze shooting up at him.

“Good girl, baby, good girl. You know Daddy will take care of you. Stick out your tongue, angel.” 

You did as told, your connection somehow reinforced after that exchange.

Brent gave you a small smirk, and wiped his tongue against yours, feverishly, before wrapping it up in his mouth. 

“Faster, now baby, faster. Show me how good I can make you feel.” Brent said, before attaching his lips to your neck, leaving the other side exposed for the guys to see. You picked up the pace again, the little break he gave you before just aiding to you edging, on the brink of falling apart. 

“Spread your legs, my dirty girl. Let me play with you.” he said, lips still touching the side of your neck.

You took more deep breaths as you tried to keep it together. When you moved, you could see the wet patch left on his pants. He helped you move, legs shaking, and set up enough pillows at the end of the bed to prop you up, your wet cunt open wide and showing to all the guys behind the glass.

“Lay down, princess. Right there, just like that.” Brent bent down in front of the bed, face dangerously close to your pussy.

“Oh, you’re such a mess. So pretty for us, baby.” His fingers dipped inside you just before circling your clit, causing your head to fall back into the mountain of pillows. It was hard to hold it together, unable to stop shaking or keep your knees from collapsing in. Brent stood up, thrusting his fingers deep inside you.

“Can you hold it in for me, baby? You’re not getting too ahead of yourself, are you?”

“A little.”

“Let’s slow down, maybe, flower. Open your mouth for me. Show me your tongue again.” Brent’s soaked fingers grabbed your chin sternly, right before spitting on your tongue twice.

He proceeded to dip his other hand right in your mouth, spreading his spit all over you.

“That’s so good, look at you. Let’s keep going, little one.” As he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a trail of saliva fell from his digits and left a string on your body; his hand was back inside you as soon as it was gone, eliciting more and more moans from you.

“God, he really wasn’t kidding.” Dylan whispered in the room, all eyes still diligently stuck on the couple on the bed. 

“...Yeah.”. They did their best to hide how tight their pants were all getting but to no avail. It didn’t matter anyways - they had all signed up for this, and were all free to leave. Nonetheless, no one dared to move a muscle, too transfixed with the scene unfolding before them.

“Look at her pussy. Don’t stare at her face. Do whatever I tell you.” Brent’s voice changed from sweet to demanding, as he turned his head towards the glass to instruct the guys, who all followed commands, unknowingly to you, too blissed out to even worry.

His movements became quicker and more precise, knowing exactly where to touch you to make sure you twitched and squirmed.

“That’s right. You do so well by Daddy. I’m going to go faster now, baby. C’mon. I know, baby, I know, I know. Show them, my love. Show them how good my thick fingers make you feel. You’re so tiny I could just fuck you like this, my hands fill you up so well. Yeah?”

“Look at her, look at her, boys. You see how good I’m making her feel? Print that in your fucking heads and try to do the same when you touch a girl. Every time you see anyone from now on, you’ll think about this, this right here, and how good I can make her feel, just come apart in my hands.”

“She’s fucking trembling.”

“I know.”

“Jesus.” they all cursed.

“Give it to me, baby, c’mon, princess. Yeah, that’s right. Like that, like that, oh, fuck.” You grabbed Brent’s shoulders as you shuddered, orgasm rippling through you while he tried to coax you through it, watching you closely from above you.

“Good job, baby, good job. You are so gorgeous, baby. You’re so sweet, so kind, so pretty. There you go, pretty baby.” he said, slowing down and rubbing your folds while you came down from your peak. “Do you need some water? Yeah?” he asked, placing a kiss on your forehead, his hand gently tapping your pussy. 

“She wants water. Get her some. One person only. And do it fucking quickly.”

The guys all scrambled, sitting up and looking at each other since they first walked in. They had never seen each other in this state, sweaty and bodies flushed and swollen, ready for sex. There was absolutely no water in there. There was nothing. Neci, the closest to the exit, quickly left and came back, a victorious look on his face with a water bottle in his hand. Until he realized he needed to go in. He turned and gulped at the black door separating them from the couple, laying in bed, staring at the glass in front of them. Pyotr swore at that moment that Burnzie had lied about not being able to see or hear them.

“I said fucking fast!” he raised his voice, leading Neci to swiftly turn the handle and walk into the room. As he came towards you, still heavy breathing and wide open in front of him, he thought he might fall or just cream his pants. 

“Don’t fucking look at her. Look at her feet while you give me the water.” 

Martin did as told, and even if feet did absolutely nothing for him, he started to understand what Burnzie had meant in the locker room. Everything about this was so goddamn erotic. After handing over the water, and hearing a tiny “thank you” from you, Martin walked back and shut the door behind him, finding his chair fast and keeping his cap low, hoping the rest of the group wouldn’t chirp him. No one said anything. They all knew that could have been them going in there soon. Some were hoping, truly, to participate.

Brent tilted the water bottle back while holding it up to your mouth, whispering reassuring sweet nothings in your ear as you quenched your thirst.

“Color, baby?”

“Green.”

“Lovely, my girl. Take Daddy’s pants off.” 

You sat on your knees, working the button of Brent’s pants, while he looked at you, with the sweetest smile, until his erection sprang free. It wasn’t your first time seeing him, but it never failed to get a gasp out of it. Brent was a big man, and he was big and thick everywhere. As you leaned down to wrap your tongue around the tip of his cock, you felt a gentle tug at the back of your head.

“So sweet, my angel, but I want you already. Come rub yourself all over Daddy’s cock.” he said, sitting up back at the corner of the bed, legs confidently planted on the floor. 

“How bad do you want it, flower? You’ve been so good, waiting for me. All of those guys, they can’t satisfy you like I do, isn’t that right?” he looked up at you, while you were spreading your soaking folds up and down his shaft. 

“No one else can, Daddy.”

“What a pretty, good girl you are, baby girl. C’mere, take me, princess.” he said, immensely satisfied with your response, and guiding you all the way down his cock, until you were flush together at the hips. 

“Oh, oh, my god.”

“I know, baby. You can take me though, right?”

You nodded, hastily, as you began to bounce on him. He was so big you felt like he was splitting you in two, in the best, most pleasurable way possible. All you could do is moan, moan and moan. And whimper, head fully tilted back, as a tear slid down your cheek.

“My angel, are you tearing up? That’s okay, relax, my love. I got you. What’s your color, princess?”

“Green, green. It’s just so…, big.” 

“I know, I know. You can tear up, that’s alright. I’m right here, my dove.”

You bit your lip, hard, and looked back at his face. He was in heaven, and not afraid to show it.

“You feel so fucking good, flower. You feel so amazing, so snug around me. No one makes me feel like this, princess. God, fuck. Look at me.” 

Your eyes connected once again, Brent looking for …something in you.

“Can you take a little more for me, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, yes.” you said, not stopping your movements. 

“Slow down, yeah, like that. Milk Daddy very slowly.” he planted a kiss on your cheek, right before grabbing your face and uniting your tongues once again.

“I need one person here. Just one. And let it be a new one. Fast.” Brent raised his voice, facing the glass.

All his teammates looked at each other once again, yet this time, Andrei was the only one to stand up. 

“Must be your turn, brother. Good luck.” Sebastian uttered, from the back row.

Andrei looked around, slightly panicked. It sure seemed like it was going to be him. He took a deep breath before opening the connecting door, moving fast in order not to aggravate Burnzie. He walked in and simply couldn’t help but stare at you, fully naked with your eyes rolled back, grinding and bouncing steadily on his older teammate. 

“Don’t you dare fucking look. Go over to the dresser.” Brent ordered.

The young Russian strode towards the dresser on the opposite end of the bedroom, eyes planted on his shoes. 

“Middle drawer on the left. Tan rope. 1 ft. Bring it over.” 

Andrei grabbed the rope out of the organized bunch, shut the drawer and walked back, heart beating out of his chest. 

“Stand behind her. If you have to look, look at her feet. Hurry up.” 

Andrei stood behind her, the only thing he could see apart from the bottom of your feet was his bulge, rock hard in his slacks.

“Can you do a double column tie?”

“Uh, no.”

“Fucking-, anyone else? You have 5 seconds to come out if you do.”

2,3,4,5. No one. 

“Useless. Get close to her, I’ll tell you how to do it.” he said. “You keep grinding, my girl, you’re doing so well. Can you put your wrist behind your back for Daddy and his friend? Yeah? Good girl.”

Your small wrists appeared in Andrei’s field of vision, head diligently down. Andrei attempted at not getting distracted, but he was sure there were sweat beads emerging from his hairline. He followed all the instructions, which Brent made sure to explain as efficiently as possible. 

“Fold it in half.”

“Now, turn it counterclockwise.”

“Put that piece over and under, and squeeze it. Make sure it’s not too tight, so we’re not hurting her.”

Before he realized it, her hands were securely bound behind her back. Andrei mentally patted himself on the back. He caught a glimpse of you, slowly crumbling on top of Brent. All of the guys could have walked in right now, and Andrei thought you would have not noticed nor cared. You were completely wrapped up in Brent. 

“Can you be good, baby? Can you say, thank you, Andrei? For Daddy?”

Dazed and with your head resting on Brent’s shoulder, you moaned a thank you, which made Andrei’s knees buckle. 

“Out of here now.”. Andrei walked back, shirt sticking to his back, into the room with the guys, who were all staring at him, jaws on the floor. Once again, no one said a word. Andrei honestly couldn’t wait to get to his car, but he was too curious to leave just yet.

“How does it feel, baby?” “Good. So good, yes.”

“You sound so amazing, my little dove. What’s my name, love? Tell them. Tell them.”

“Daddy. Your name’s Daddy.” you said, increasing your speed.

“Good girl, baby, good. You’ve been so good today I’m going to fill you up so nicely, flower.”

Brent’s calloused hands balanced you carefully as you kept fucking yourself on his cock, which was growing harder as the boys grew more impatient with every move.

“Squeeze, baby girl. Squeeze me tight. Cream all over me, fuck.” the air in both rooms was getting warmer, exponentially. 

Your eyes locked for one last time before you crumbled all over him, juices running down Brent’s lap as you shook.

“See, boys? Look how beautiful. Shut up and listen to her, hear how incredible she feels. God, just looking at her is going to make me cum.” Brent fucked up into you and kept calling out for you as he shot his seed deep inside you, his big thighs tensing up under you. Little one, baby, angel, princess, love, flower… every single one rolling right off his tongue over and over, eyes fluttering. 

The guys moved around more and more, uncomfortable in their chairs. 

Brent quickly flipped you over, immediately untying your hands after you both caught your breath again. He held you tightly in his arms, rocking you back and forth, caressing your cheek, and placing kisses all over the marks on your wrists.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you, angel. I’m always proud of you. My gorgeous princess.”

He kept going for a while, feeding you water, some candy from the nightstand, and enveloping your body fully. In the meantime, none of the guys could barely hold it together, all trying to see what was going to happen next, or waiting to speed home to have some private time.

“You guys are lucky I’m not making any of you come out here and lap up her juices. I’ll be nice today. Get the fuck out of here.” Brent said, lastly, before going back to paying full attention to you.

The chairs squeaked at how fast everyone sat up, exiting through the same door, retrieving their phones, and heading towards their cars, not one word was spoken. None of them could believe what had happened, what they had witnessed. There were no goodnights or goodbyes. 

They all raced home, speeding into the night, a thousand memories already forming in their heads. 

One thing they knew for sure. None of them were ever going to forget this night. 

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #2 - Saturnalia

This fic is for @cortmac1989, who has asked for Valek romancing Reader at a Christmas masquerade! I’ve taken a bit of liberty with the request to stretch it out a bit longer – hope you don’t mind and that you all enjoy!

TW: Stalking; Voyeurism; Blood-drinking (due to vampirism); confession under duress (mesmerization); dark, rough sex; References to violence and murder; Gratuitously going against the lore (or lack thereof) of vampirism from the book/movie to fit my own agenda

---

Saturnalia

---

Valek’s POV:

He takes care to press down with every step, ensuring that a footprint is left behind in the snow. It was important to never give the humans a reason to suspect he was anything more.

Jan Valek had always embraced the winter months; the loss of hours of sunlight giving him the opportunity to surround himself with people going about their lives as usual beneath the blanket of darkness. Christmas was quickly approaching, and Valek always found himself wistfully thinking back to his human life at this time of year. His family, their traditions, all long dead… watching people all around him, bright and alive and happily thinking of their loved ones could make him feel either moved or horribly depressed.

Tonight it has him feeling empty.

He makes to leave, to return home and to his lonely, meaningless existence, when something suddenly catches his attention: an intoxicating scent on the wind that washes away all traces of his melancholia.

Curious and almost unable to help himself, he tracks the scent. He knows that the aroma belongs to a human, but he can’t remember the last time he was so tempted by the bloodlust, feeling his canines start to lengthen and sharpen as his mouth waters. He pauses in his search of the source of the appealing scent, getting himself under control – he was able to relatively blend in with the humans when his vampiric instincts lay dormant, his features only revealing their true form when he was making use of his abilities to fight or feed. There would be time for that, once he had isolated the victim…

Nicking his tongue on a still-sharpened fang, he lets his own vampiric blood flow into his mouth, helping to distract him from the scent until he is able to continue his pursuit. Eventually, he comes across a small group of people bundled up for the weather and chatting amongst themselves. One woman, the source of his temptation, stands slightly apart from the crowd, watching the others talk with a slight smile rather than participating in the conversation.

“Everyone is coming on Friday night! No excuses!” one woman’s voice drowns out the others, resulting in a cacophony of whoops and groans from the others.

“Do we have to wear a mask?” someone complains, murmurs of agreement echoing him. “Halloween was months ago!”

“Yes!” the woman insists. “It’s going to be a fancy Winter Solstice masquerade, and you’re all cooperating. We haven’t all gotten together in years, and this will be fun!”

“Your version of ‘fun’ is very different from the rest of ours, Roberta,” another person chimes in, and the woman, Roberta apparently, scowls at the group.

“We will have my family’s manor to ourselves, with full access to their liquor cabinet. Am I really asking for so much here?”

A hush falls over the group for a brief moment.

“Masquerade ball it is!”

“Great idea, Roberta!”

“Can’t wait for Friday!”

Roberta smirks, pleased that the group has been won over, but Valek finds his gaze drawn to you, the wallflower, as you roll your eyes at your friends.

“Hey, how did you get Y/N to agree to come? There’s no way alcohol would be enough to win her over!” someone asks with a laugh, and you jump as you become the new topic of conversation. Roberta throws a friendly arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“She’s staying with me while she’s here; she has to!” the woman announces smugly, and you give a bashful, reluctant smile.

“Plus, she described it to me like a Saturnalia celebration, so I’ll just hide in the corner and observe from a safe distance,” you add, your smile fading as no one recognizes the word or asks about it. Valek himself is surprised that you’ve mentioned the ancient Roman festival – it has no current cultural relevance that he’s aware of.

“Ugh! No nerd stuff, please!” someone chides you, and you scowl. “You’re supposed to be taking a break from all that, Y/N!”

“And you will not be hiding in a corner during my party!” Roberta insists. “Hopefully you and Michael will hit it off before then so that he can help you have some fun!” she winks roguishly at you, and Valek hears your heartbeat speed up as you blush.

“You’re going out with Michael?” someone asks excitedly, and the other women in the group burst into giggles.

“Roberta–” you hiss at her, yanking yourself out of her grip. “I’m not talking about this. I’ll see the rest of you on Friday!” you snarl, stomping off down the snow-covered street, clearly upset.

Valek ghosts after you, staying in the shadows. Perhaps the opportunity to feed will present itself to him – he wants to savour you, just the once, and if he wasn’t rushed at the thought of being discovered, there was less chance for an… accident.

“Y/N, wait up!” Roberta calls, jogging to catch up with you. You reluctantly stop to wait for her, tapping your foot impatiently. Valek takes the opportunity to move to the other side of the hedges that line the sidewalk you were on, allowing him to eavesdrop and watch you through the snow-covered pines without being spotted himself.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumble as she approaches, and from what he can see, the woman has the grace to look abashed.

“I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking,” she says, and you two set off down the path together.

“Why are you insistent that I go out with him while I’m here?” you ask quietly after a minute or two of walking in silence, and your friend peeks over at you, concern in her eyes.

“I just… I worry that you’re alone, Y/N,” she admits. “Your parents have been gone for a few years now, you’re away from your hometown and busy with school, and I know you’re not the most social person… I just want you to be taken care of, hun.”

You let out a deep sigh, your breath coming out in a spiraling, misty cloud.

“I’m fine by myself, Bob,” you tell her, and both your mouths twist into a smile at what Valek presumes is a nickname. “I appreciate your concern, but trying to force the issue isn’t going to get me into a relationship that lasts. The right person will show up when it’s time; I don’t want to rush it.”

“I get it, I get it. I won’t do it again, I promise. Just please give Michael a chance? For me?” she asks you hopefully, and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you give in with a reluctant smile. “But just a quick cup of coffee – I don’t want to be stuck at a restaurant for hours if this goes south.”

Your friend nods, a wide smile on her face, and skips off ahead of you, whooping into the night.

So, he wasn’t the only one that felt alone during this time of year, Valek muses to himself as he follows the pair of you to the elegant manor house where you’ll be staying. It was unfortunate, but truly made you the ideal ‘victim,’ loathe as he was to use that word. But you had no family, you were here for a short period of time… it would be easy to make you disappear in the event that he got carried away.

He doesn’t think he will – sure, your blood was inviting, but he finds himself equally, if not more so, interested in your brain.

---

One Day Later…

Reader’s POV:

You force yourself out of Roberta’s home, bundled up against the cold. You really don’t want to go on this stupid date, but you had promised, and you didn’t want to be rude to Michael.

You stifle a yawn as you make your way to the coffee shop, grateful that you’d at least be able to wake yourself up a bit with a nice, hot beverage. You hadn’t slept well the night before, and as twilight turns to dusk the darkness isn’t helping with your fatigue. Still, it’s a beautiful, clear night, the snow still thick on the ground and the treetops, so you do your best to enjoy it. Perhaps Michael would be late, and you could take some time to yourself; your journal and a bag of poetry were in your bag.

Unfortunately, you see him waiting for you outside the coffee shop as you approach, and he gives you a beaming smile that you do your best to return. No time to enjoy the night on your own, then.

Michael wraps you up in a friendly hug as he greets you, the embrace lasting slightly longer than you are comfortable with. You two weren’t complete strangers; he’d been a year above you in high school and you had seen each other at the few social events you had attended with your friends in the years since.

Once you grab your drinks you decide to make your way to the nearby park, making small talk along the way. Michael is… fine. He’s friendly, not leering overtly as he checks you out (you’re grateful again for the cold weather and the layers of clothing it affords you), and he even offered to pay for your coffee, but there’s just… nothing between you. You feel no spark, no real interest towards him, and every attempt you’ve made to tell him about your hobbies and interests he couldn’t be bothered to indulge you, always steering the conversation back to himself.

You’re disappointed, but not surprised. Like you had said to Roberta yesterday, you aren’t going to hit it off with someone by being set up with someone else. You’re old-fashioned, romantic, reserved, with a bunch of interests that people rarely wanted to hear about. Finding someone that you would connect with would be like finding a needle in a haystack, especially in this tiny town.

You sigh internally, trying to turn your attention back to Michael instead of counting down the minutes until you can go home.

---

You manage to make it an hour and a half before you start laying it on thick with the exaggerated yawns, and Michael eventually takes the hint, walking you to the entrance of the park.

“I hope I’ll see you at Roberta’s party on Friday,” Michael asks with a boyish grin. “I’ll be the one in the mask!”

You let out a genuine laugh for the first time that evening. “Yes, I’ll be there – she’s insisted on it!” you reply wryly, avoiding the subject of seeing him there. You’re bad at rejecting people – you hate disappointing anyone, for any reason – and are hoping that you can just go your separate ways without having to formally announce it.

Fortunately, Michael just wishes you a good evening with another hug that you force yourself to return before he turns to head home. You frown at his back. It’s not like you need him to walk you home – or even want him to – but the gesture would have been appreciated. Letting out the sigh you’d been keeping inside all evening, you turn to head back home.

“Excuse me,” comes a smooth, deep voice behind you that makes you jump; you hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind you. Turning around, you’re taken aback by the massive man that stands just a few feet from you. He must be nearly six and a half feet tall, with long, pitch-black hair that flows to his shoulders, blending in with his dark clothing. In contrast, his skin is incredibly pale, and his eyes were a piercing blue-grey that you can’t look away from.

You take a reflexive step backwards and bite back a gasp, and the man tracks the gesture before taking a few steps back. You feel guilty immediately – he seems polite, and you hope your jumpiness didn’t offend him.

“I apologize; I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says gently. “I merely wanted to ask if this was yours.”

He holds up a book which you immediately recognize as your poetry collection; it must have fallen out of your bag somewhere.

“Oh, yes! Thank you so much!” you exclaim with a smile, accepting the book from his gloved hand and returning it to your bag. “How did you know it was mine?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Nobody else is here. Someone was just leaving as I arrived, but he did not seem like the type to read poetry.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing – no, Michael was definitely not the literary type. This man, on the other hand…

“He’s not – not for my lack of trying, anyway,” you say with a wistful sigh. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduce yourself, extending a mittened hand to him.

“John,” he returns, taking your hand in his large one to shake it. Your skin never touches his, but you feel a thrill of electricity race from your palm up your arm, making you tingle.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you breathe, finding yourself reluctant to step back from his personal space.

“And you,” he replies, not taking his eyes off of yours as if considering something. Your heart is thumping like mad, and you’re glad there’s no way he can hear it.

“So, the not-poet is a friend of yours, then?” John asks with an amused smirk.

“Who?” you ask, momentarily confused. This man’s presence is very overwhelming, and you find it hard to focus on anything else. “Oh, him! No, not really,” you say, rushing to get the words out. “We haven’t seen each other in years and were just catching up.”

“That makes a bit more sense,” he replies, and you cock your head at him inquisitively. “Someone closer to you should have the decency to walk you home, especially so late at night.”

You feel yourself flush, and hope that he attributes it to the cold.

“I don’t mind,” you say shyly, unable to look him in the eye as you speak. “It’s let me talk to you.”

Braving a look up at his face, you see him smiling down at you, his blue eyes glittering like the snow under the lights that line the sidewalk.

“May I walk you home, then?” he asks quietly, seeming nervous himself. “Provided that I would not be imposing.”

“You’re not imposing!” you say quickly, hoping that you’re not coming across as too eager. John merely grins at you before asking you to lead the way.

You slowly make your way back to Roberta’s home, trying not to shuffle your feet, but you can’t help it – you don’t want this walk to end. You and John talk about literature the way that you haven’t been able to with anyone outside of a college lecture hall, and it feels wonderful. John is knowledgeable, opinionated and thoughtful, and you’re both firing off questions one after the other. You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so comfortable with a stranger; he doesn’t even feel like a stranger!

All too soon, you make your way to the front gate to Roberta’s home, turning to John with a sigh.

“This is me,” you inform him reluctantly, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Thank you so much, for giving me my book, and walking me home.”

“It was my pleasure, Y/N,” he replies warmly, before giving you that look again that has you desperately wanting to know what he’s thinking. “Have a good evening.”

“You too, John,” you say, giving him a timid smile. “I’m really glad that I met you.”

You fight the urge to look over your shoulder to see if John is still there, forcing yourself to walk up the driveway and to the large, ornate front door. The moment you close the door behind you, you press your nose to the glass of the window to check, but you can’t see him standing there. Turning, you lean your back against the door with a sigh.

What an absolute dream…

An encounter with someone like that, even just a one-off as this was – and your heart twinges at the thought of not seeing him again – made you believe that your approach to romance was correct. Why settle for just anyone when you now had evidence that someone like that existed?

“You look like you had fun.”

You jump, a guilty smile spreading across your face as Roberta enters from another room with a smug expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie flatly, and the woman rolls her eyes.

“Oh please, you look positively smitten. I’ll admit, I didn’t think things would go quite this well when I set you two up!”

You open your mouth before snapping it shut again, weighing your options. Telling Roberta that your good mood was from spending time with anyone other than Michael would beget a hundred more questions that you didn’t want to answer. A large part of you wants to keep John a secret, keep tonight something that belongs only to the two of you.

You hide a smile behind a feigned yawn, moving towards the stairs and the privacy of the guest room you were staying in.

“I’m not talking about this right now. Goodnight, Bob.”

“Sweet dreams,” the woman replies, her tone thick with implications. “I plan to see this romance for myself on Friday night!”

---

Friday Evening…

Valek’s POV:

He feels he’s making a mistake, but he just can’t help himself.

Entering a venue amongst a large group of people, their inhibitions lowered as they celebrate, their collective blood pumping in their veins, and your mouth-watering scent among them… For all his centuries as a vampire, Valek finds himself doubting his self-control.

He’s been taking precautions, to be sure – feeding far more than usual in the days leading up to tonight, the Winter Solstice. Tempting as you are, he finds he no longer wants to feed on you – he doesn’t think of himself as worthy.

He remembers that quote about the flower by Osho – about not picking a flower that you love, as it then ceases to be – and finds it appropriate for you. As much as he wants to take you, consume you, that would deprive the world of the beauty and life that you bring into it, should he get carried away.

Despite that, he’s going to see you tonight; he can’t bring himself to stay away.

You’ve made him feel nearly alive again, ever since your meeting a few nights ago. He’s been plagued by desires; for your blood, yes, but also for more of your conversation, your smile, your essence…

He has been tempting fate these past few evenings, needing to be close to you and content to just watch from a distance as you appear at one of the manor’s windows or walk into town with your friend. He doesn’t let himself approach the home, not wanting to torment himself, even as you sleep. Instead, he has left deep red roses on the doorstep every night for you to find in the morning. Somehow, you rightly knew that they were intended for you.

He adjusts the cuffs of his blazer, still unaccustomed to this type of modern clothing. He’s chosen a black three-piece suit and tie, his shirt a deep blue that matches his mask, his hair down, and finds himself feeling only mildly foolish. Based on the conversations he’d overheard when he had first spotted you, he assumes that this is customary.

Valek is not sure what he wants from tonight beyond getting close to you – again, this all seems like a risky endeavour – but he hopes that one night will be enough to tide him over for eternity.

It would have to be.

He makes his way to the party, the path to the manor familiar to him by now, and joins the throng of people. It doesn’t take him long to find you by scent alone, avoiding attention and standing off to the side, his wallflower. You’re wearing a floor-length, strapless blue dress and a swirling mask of blue, white and gold, your hair in an elegant twist that emphasizes your graceful neck.

Tonight will be difficult.

 ---

Reader’s POV:

You watch the party from a respectable distance – it’s truly a sight to behold, but not really something you want to partake in yourself. You promised Roberta you would stay downstairs and in the ballroom until at least midnight, but you’re finding it difficult to keep that promise, and it’s only just past 10.

“I did not take you for someone that would attend this sort of bacchanalia, Y/N.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine, your memories and dreams over the past few days not doing it justice. Your heart immediately begins hammering away as you turn to face him, and he is utterly resplendent in blue and black – your costumes compliment each other.

“John!” you exclaim, trying to keep the overwhelming joy you’re feeling inside. “I was coerced into coming. What’s your excuse?” you ask, curious, and he smiles secretively as he holds out a glass of wine to you. He is wearing gloves, even indoors, but you don’t comment on it as you accept the beverage. Your mouth is suddenly very dry, and you take a healthy sip of the wine, feeling warm.

“I’m quite certain that the entire town was invited. I recognized the address as your own and found it difficult to believe that you would be hosting something like this; I should have known subterfuge would be involved.”

You giggle, the wine going right to your head. “This is my friend’s parents’ place; I’m staying with her while I’m in town. She demanded I stay down here until at least midnight as a lodging fee.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to her at some point tonight. I have to thank you for ensuring your attendance,” he teases in his deep, smooth voice that has your cheeks flaming beneath your mask. “You are dazzling.”

You try not to hyperventilate, pressing yourself against the wall for support.

“So do you!” you reply quickly, trying to recover. “You look…” Stunning? Gorgeous? Delicious? Like a dark prince straight from my indecent fantasies?

“…noble! Plus, we match!” you tack on hastily, trying to move right past your corniness.

John doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a dashing smile that has you nearly swooning. Instead, you quickly finish the rest of your wine, needing the courage to continue having a conversation with this unattainable entity. Your talk quickly returns to your passionate discussion of literature, and you find yourself relaxing in John’s presence, almost unaware of the party surrounding you.

Looking back up at John – you find your eyes need to take frequent breaks from gawking at him to allow you to maintain some degree of focus – you see that he is looking at you with an amused expression.

“What?”

“You’re practically dancing,” he comments, and for the first time you notice that you are indeed swaying to the music, an orchestral version of one of your favourite pop songs. “Would you like to?” he asks, and you immediately start to panic.

“No!” you cry out before it occurs to you how the rejection might be taken. “Not because you asked, I mean; I just can’t dance.”

“Nonsense,” he counters immediately, stepping closer to you and making you tilt your head nearly all the way back in order to keep looking up at his handsome face. “It’s all in the leading. May I?” he asks, extending a hand towards you. You bite your lip, setting your empty glass down on a nearby table before placing your hand into his much larger one, your fingertips tingly as they brush against the supple leather of his glove. That same feeling of electricity shoots up your arm and nearly has you letting out a moan; the alcohol clearly isn’t helping you keep your composure.

John leads you towards the edge of the dance floor, then turns and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer but not flush against him. He raises his other hand, still holding yours, then moves his gaze pointedly to your left shoulder, your arm still nervously pressed against your side. You slowly lift your hand up between your bodies, placing it on his broad shoulder, and he gives you a pleased smile. He guides you through the slow dance, his palm pressing yours in a way that somehow has you moving the right way.

“Wow, you were right!” you exclaim in surprise, hardly able to believe it. “It’s all in the leading.”

“You are also a very good partner,” John croons down at you, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “Very responsive…”

His words have you blushing and feeling nearly dizzy as you sway to the music under his guidance. You could happily get lost in this moment, in his blue, blue eyes forever…

But after a few songs, you’re feeling overwhelmed and need a break; it’s almost hard for you to breathe. Reluctantly, you remove your hand from his shoulder, and he respectfully releases you.

“I’m going to go get some water if I can, provided Roberta hasn’t replaced it all with vodka. Can I get you anything to drink?” you offer with a smile, wanting to do something, anything for him. John’s lips twitch in amusement, but he declines your offer, and you move through the crowd, trying not to stumble in your haste to get to the refreshment table and back to him as quickly as possible.

You gulp down the cool water greedily, still feeling so warm all over. You’re desperate to return to John – you feel a tangible ache at being apart from him, and while you’re not sure that it’s a good or healthy thing, it’s not something you’re willing to endure any longer than you have to.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Whirling around, you’re disappointed to see not John, but Michael, his black and gold costume a bit too ostentatious for your liking. But you suppose you’re being a bit unfair; there was nothing this man could do to hold a candle to John in your eyes.

“Good evening, Michael. Enjoying the party?” you ask politely, even as your eyes scan the ballroom for John – he’s not where you left him.

“I am now. Would you like to dance?”

You hesitate before giving your answer. You really don’t want to give Michael the time of day, but you’re not comfortable with rejecting him, especially surrounded by people you both knew. And even without alcohol, him possibly seeing you with John, or any other factors, men could be unpredictable when they were jealous or rejected. You look for John somewhat desperately one last time, hoping he’ll come save you, but he is nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” you agree noncommittally, unable to feign even a shred of enthusiasm. Unlike John, Michael pulls you tightly against him as he dances with you, his hips chasing yours in a way that makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable. You try to step away after the song ends, but he tightens his grip on you, giving you a pleading expression, and you resign yourself to another dance. He isn’t even bothering to try to speak with you, content to occupy your body rather than your mind, and you’re not upset about it as it allows you to keep your thoughts on John.

You manage to talk Michael out of asking for a third dance, but he doesn’t get the hint, attaching himself to your side as you move through the ballroom, still looking for John. He was so tall, so impressive, so utterly impossible to miss, that you’ve all but accepted that he’s left the party. You hope he hadn’t seen you dancing with Michael and gotten the wrong impression…

The large clock chimes twelve times, and you’ve never been more grateful for the sound. You’ve held up your end of the bargain to Roberta, and are now free to leave the party, and without John’s presence, there’s nothing to keep you here.

You fake a yawn, trying to look at Michael with an apologetic expression that you know rings hollow.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I’m exhausted,” you say. Michael looks pleased to hear this information, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end at his expression.

“Would you like me to walk you to your room?” he purrs, and you suppress a shudder, certain that he will misinterpret it.

“Oh, no thank you,” you say clearly. “It was wonderful to see you again, Michael. Have a good night.”

You move past him without another word, not wanting this conversation to go on any longer, and hurry to the staircase and your bedroom. You slip inside and immediately take your mask off, feeling dejected. John’s presence at the party had been such a wonderful surprise, but his disappearance has left you feeling hollow and surprisingly upset.

There’s a knock at the door and you reluctantly open it, expecting Roberta to be chastising you. Instead, John’s tall form looms in the doorway, his dark mask still concealing his face. You briefly stop breathing, your heart thudding against your ribs.

“John!” you cry, the joy evident in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave after speaking with that man from the park, and you looked upset. Are you alright?”

“I –” you start to say, but you pause, wanting to choose your words carefully. Were you alright? Probably not, considering you were head over heels for a mystery man you barely knew.

“I thought you had left, and I didn’t want Michael bothering me anymore,” you tell him instead, keeping things vague. “Where did you go? I was kind of hoping you would come rescue me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been proper.”

“Regardless, it would have been appreciated.”

John opens his mouth to continue your banter but freezes, his head turning to the stairs. After a moment, you hear the footsteps that had undoubtedly caught his attention; he must have excellent hearing. Feeling brazen, especially seeing as you don’t know if or when you would see him again, you take John’s hand and tug him inside, closing the door and turning out the light. You press your ear against the door, listening to the approaching footsteps. John watches you, an amused smirk on his face, and you glare at him in the silence. Eventually, the footsteps retreat, and after a moment or two of waiting, you conclude that Michael has gone, flicking the light back on with a sigh.

“You know, you could consider telling the man you are not interested,” John suggests with amusement. You growl at him.

“I shouldn’t have to outright reject him to keep him from trying to follow me to my bedroom,” you snarl, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Plus, men aren’t always the most accepting of a rejection.”

John is visibly upset by the implications of your words, and something about his slight shift in demeanour has you feeling wary.

“Are you suggesting that someone hurt you as a result of you rejecting them?” he hisses, the sound making you shudder.

“It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t that bad,” you reply quickly, wanting him to settle down. “Loads of my friends have experienced way worse! It’s fine, John, really,” you add, trying to reassure him. His jaw is still clenched, but he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to calm down.

“Why would anyone respond with such anger?” he asks, sounding appalled. Perhaps the culture where he was from was vastly different from America.

“Most people only want to hear what they want to hear,” you say with a shrug. “No one is interested in honesty. I mean, I think I prefer the truth, but even I lie to people if the need arises – I’ve accepted that it’s necessary.”

“Do you mean you would always prefer the truth?” he asks, his eyes locking with yours with a serious expression.

“Yes.”

“In every circumstance?” he presses, clearly fishing for something. It has you feeling nervous.

“Yes, I think so,” you breathe, your eyes at his back as he walks across the room to look out your window. After what feels like an eternity, he turns back to you.

“I have not been honest with you, Y/N,” he confesses, looking deeply into your eyes with a pained expression, and you immediately feel yourself choke up. Of course this wasn’t real; there’s no way that somebody like him could truly exist.

Best get the truth out of him now, then, so that you could move on. You can already feel tears pricking your eyes, so immediately affected by his deception.

“W-What do you mean, John?” you ask in a weak, timid voice, and he takes a deep breath before responding.

“My name is not John,” he begins, and you tense up, the blood in your veins turning to ice. “I am Jan Valek, the first and oldest vampire.”

Neither of you blink or say anything for a long moment, your eyes locked. Finally, you let out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh, the alcohol burning away your nerves.

“T-That’s a good one!” you giggle, unable to contain yourself, and John surveys you with a mildly irritated expression.

“I could prove it to you, if you’d like,” he offers.

“Oh by all means, go ahead!” you agree, beginning to laugh harder.

In a movement far too quick for you to see, he closes the distance between you, taking you in his arms and lowering his head to the side of your neck for a long moment, inhaling deeply. Your laughter dies in your throat immediately. He releases you, taking a step back before reaching up to pull away his mask. Blue veins beneath his pale skin are now prominent around his eyes, and he opens his mouth, revealing a rapidly growing set of sharp fangs.

You scream, stumbling backwards, but then he is on you once more, covering your mouth and nose with a gloved hand and lowering you to the ground gently.

“Calm down, Y/N,” he commands you, a strange light shining in his eyes, and against all rational thought you feel your body start to relax, your heartbeat returning to normal.

“That’s good,” he murmurs approvingly. “Speak quietly,” he adds, his eyes doing the glowing thing again, and you feel the scream you had been building up fade away. He removes his hand from your face, and you wrench yourself out of his grip, scampering back and away from him.

“What…” you begin, clearing your throat as your voice comes out hoarse and soft. “What did you just do?” you demand, the alcohol helping you push past your fear into anger.

“Mesmerization – it’s a sort of hypnosis,” John – Valek, apparently – explains, his voice calm.

“You hypnotized me?!” you hiss, injecting as much venom into your voice as possible since you are unable to yell at him.

“I didn’t want you to draw anyone’s attention, Y/N, I apologize,” the vampire offers, somehow sounding both sincere and unrepentant.

“Why? Are you going to kill me?” you ask him, whimpering at the thought. Strangely, the thought doesn’t upset you as much as the fact that he has been lying to you.

“No.” His reply is forceful and immediate; he looks anguished at the mere suggestion.

“Then what do you want?!” you cry out as loudly as you can, tears streaking down your face. You’re very aware of how the cut of your dress and your updo leave your neck completely exposed, and you pull your hair out of its twist to fall past your shoulders, concealing you. You know that it’s a completely pointless gesture, but you can’t help yourself, the instinct to cover yourself overwhelming.

Valek watches you with a pained, sad expression.

“It is not your blood that I desire, but your heart,” he confesses, longing and desire filling his eyes. “When I first came upon you, I did want to feed on you. Your scent is… intoxicating,” he groans slightly, his eyes rolling back into his head. Goosebumps erupt over your body as pure, primal terror courses through you.

“But as I heard you speak, as I watched you, as I spoke to you myself, you captivated me,” he continues, as though he hadn’t just admitted to wanting to drink your blood. “I have never been drawn to another as I have been drawn to you, Y/N. I have lived over seven hundred years, and in you I find a kindred spirit for the first time; you make me feel alive in ways I long thought were impossible. I have never wanted another the way that I want you, and I know that I will never find another like you as long as I live. I would happily spend the remainder of my existence by your side, and you would be the only thing in this world that I would cherish.”

There is a prolonged silence between you as you struggle to think of something, anything to say in response. Eventually, you give up.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you ask, your voice slightly hysterical. How could you believe any of this?

“Do you desire me in the same way? As a confidante, a partner, a lover?” he asks bluntly. “Please, beloved, tell the truth,” he adds, and you feel the mesmerization at work once more. You’re upset that he’s controlling you with his strange magical abilities, but the urge to answer builds within you, creating a pressure so great that you are quickly forced to respond.

“Yes,” you moan out the truth, the intense feeling immediately dissipating as the words leave your lips. “You have been everything I have waited for, everything that I hoped a soulmate could be.”

The look he gives you is that of a man seeing the sun for the first time, awe and euphoria practically pouring out of him.

“But this is too much!” you continue, brushing aside the guilt that makes your heart clench as you watch his own break at your words. “You wanted to hurt me, to kill me! You’re not even human! And you lied to me – how am I meant to trust anything you say, to trust you with my life, when I’m… I’m so scared of you right now!” you sob hysterically, wrapping your arms around your knees. “I don’t want to feel this way for you, I don’t want to love you!”

You force yourself to look back up at him, scared at what your rejection might cause him to do. He is frozen in his crouched position on the floor across from you, eerily still, an expression of pure agony on his face. His eyes flit to yours, and then he nods, standing up in a flash of movement that causes you to let out a strangled yelp. He lifts you to your feet before you can protest, his movements gentle and controlled, and you find yourself trembling in his grip.

“Sleep, beloved,” he murmurs, and your eyelids immediately feel heavy. He guides you to your bed, helping you onto it but making no move to join you. You know that you should feel upset, angry, terrified – who knew what the extent of his strangely hypnotic powers were? – but you find yourself trusting him against your better judgement. He covers you with the blanket, looming over you, and you close your eyes – it’s too difficult to look at him right now. Still, you feel a tear escape and trail down your cheek at the mess of emotions that would be overwhelming you right now if you weren’t so tired.

“Be at peace, my treasure,” he coos softly as you drift off. “I wish for nothing more than your happiness.”

---

The next few days are hard and lonely. You had steadfastly rejected Roberta’s invitation to spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve at a nearby ski lodge with your other friends, desperately needing to be alone. You’re grateful for the time to yourself – you know you wouldn’t be able to hide the turmoil of your emotions from anybody. You had initially wanted to get a flight back to school when you woke up the day after the party, wanting to be away from this place and anything that made you think of him, but a snowstorm had grounded all flights.

You’ve been too scared to leave the house, afraid of running into him despite knowing that he wouldn’t need to lie in wait for you in town if he wanted to see you. Regardless, you’re grateful for the fully stocked fridge and pantry – there was no reason you would have to leave the little bubble of safety you had encased yourself in.

You yawn once again despite it being the middle of the day, rubbing your eyes sleepily. The days since the masquerade have been devastating – you’ve floated around in a fog, confused and heartbroken and exhausted. You can’t get Valek out of your head; you dream of him, you think you see him in the shadowy corners of the manor… you recognize the symptoms of lovesickness and heartbreak from your favourite old romance novels, but you never expected that the pain could be quite so intense.

You’ve taken to jotting your thoughts and feelings down in your journal, just needing to get them out of your head – this isn’t exactly the sort of thing that you can talk to Roberta about. A shame, really; she’d been wanting for you to have a love life for years now, and now that you actually have a situation you can’t even come to her with it.

You wander around the manor, eventually ending up in the ballroom – you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to visit it since the night of the masquerade. You wrap your arms around your body comfortingly – the large, open space is incredibly drafty and cold when not filled with people. Your eyes instinctively move to the wall on the far side of the room where the two of you had stood, and you again feel overwhelmed by your emotions. You miss him terribly; not just his presence, but the way he made you feel worthwhile, hopeful for the first time in a long time.

But, as much as your heart aches with regret, you can’t stop the shiver of fear that runs through you at the thought. Valek was a vampire, immortal, lethal; he had wanted to kill you before you had even met!

You force yourself to head back to your room, the ballroom bringing up too much for you to handle just now. It’s dark again already, and you turn the bedroom light on as you enter. Your eyes flit to your journal, still laid open on your desk, bits and pieces of your handwriting jumping off the page at you.

… It isn’t only the feelings he sparks in me, but their depth; I never would have believed such intense emotion existed, let alone that it could be felt so much, and for so long…

… I haven’t had a restful sleep since that night, and it’s starting to affect even my waking life. I see him in every shadow, anticipate him around every corner; he has consumed me entirely, and I fear that it will go on forever…

You grimace down at your messy cursive, feeling pathetic. Who’s to say that he had even been genuine about his feelings for you in the first place? You could be mourning the loss of a relationship that he never even wanted.

You turn to sit on your bed, and as you do you notice that your book of poetry is open on your bedside table, a deep red rose placed along the spine as a bookmark. You freeze. You had buried that book in your luggage the morning after the party, and tossed the roses away immediately afterwards, not wanting to see anything to do with him, and you have been alone in the house for days now. Against your better judgement, you pick up the book, moving the rose to rest on the table and reading the poem on the open page.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

You find yourself tearing up as you read the poem with fresh eyes, Valek’s choice both beautiful and heart-wrenching. You’re still unsure if you can believe his feelings to be genuine, but if they are, you both share the same intense angst of an unrequited love. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself as you prepare to confront him.

“Valek?” you call out, your quiet voice still echoing through the silent old house. It was the first time you had said his real name; you haven’t allowed yourself to since learning it.

There’s a light breeze behind you and when you turn, Jan Valek is standing in the middle of your bedroom. Your heart races immediately, both in fear and longing, and you’re unable to tell whether you want to run into his arms or to run away. You survey each other in silence for a long moment, and then he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Don’t!” you growl out, your voice not betraying any of the nervousness and fear you’re currently feeling. His mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t even think about trying your mesmerizing hocus pocus on me, Jan Valek!” you snarl, and he presses his lips into a thin line; you think he may be trying to keep himself from laughing, which only fuels your anger.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You follow me around because you want to… kill me, or eat me, or whatever, you spy on me, you hyponotize me into confessing that I’m in love with you, you break in, you read my journal, you go through my things!” you pause mid-rant to catch your breath, angrily tossing the book of poetry at him, and he lets it smack him in the chest, remaining perfectly still. “How am I meant to feel about all of this, Valek?! I’m scared, I’m angry, I haven’t slept in days, I don’t even feel like a person anymore! You’ve ruined me!” you sob, unable to look him in the eye, instead staring at the ground in front of his feet.

“But I don’t need to tell you any of that; God knows you’ve been watching me suffer this whole time,” you whisper softly, your anger completely drained from you and replaced with a painful emptiness. You hear a sharp intake of breath that makes you look up at him through your tears; he looks completely devastated.

“So what do you want?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer, be it in the form of words or his fangs piercing your flesh. “Why are you here?” you demand, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I could not bring myself to stay away,” he admits in a quiet, pained voice, looking at the ground just as you had during your own little speech. “At first I was merely being selfish, needing to see you again. Then, I saw you suffering as I have been, and I needed to know that you would pull out of it, that you would be alright. But it has been days, and you are in such pain… I do not know what I can do to make it stop, but I will do anything you ask; I cannot bear knowing of your heartache any longer.”

Your heartbreak takes on an entirely different level of hurt as you watch this giant, otherworldly man come undone at witnessing your suffering. So much of your soul longs for Valek, your love for him rivaling all other emotions, and you find yourself needing to ease his pain, so intertwined with your own. But how to do it?

“Give me a minute,” you tell him quietly when he looks like he’s becoming agitated with your lack of response, “I’m trying to think.” He nods, seeming relieved that you’re planning on answering him at all.

You force yourself to confront all of the negative feelings that this man – for he was still a man, at least in some regard – to try to figure out where they were coming from and how they could be rectified. There was just so much that was completely unknown to you: who he was, what he was, what he wanted with you… perhaps getting some answers would help clarify things for you.

“You forced me to tell you the truth,” you remind him bitterly, and his mouth twists into a grimace. He certainly seems to regret his actions. “Will you do the same for me? Answer my questions honestly, no matter what?”

He nods immediately, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “I will never lie to you again, dear one. Ask me anything, and I will tell you true. And if at the end you wish to be rid of me, I will never bother you again.”

Your heart twinges painfully at the mere thought of never seeing him again, but you push your feelings down for the moment, giving him a nod.

“Sit first, please,” he implores you, gesturing to your bed. “You are exhausted, beloved.” You move back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to get too comfortable and fall asleep. Now that Valek is here, much of the pain you had been enduring had gone away, being replaced with overwhelming fatigue.

“What about you?” you ask, crossing your legs under yourself.

“I do not tire as you do; my kind has no need for sleep.”

“Well, sit for my sake then, if you would. Looking up at you will hurt my neck after awhile.”

Amused, he looks around the room at his various seating options, then neglects them all in favour of kneeling on the carpet before you, looking up at you with pure devotion.

“V-Valek,” you stammer, peering down at him. “I meant in a chair…”

“I am where I wish to be, Y/N. Now please, what answers are you wanting to hear?” he insists, gazing up at you expectantly.

You decide to start with some of the safer, less personal questions – namely, the ones about vampirism.

“So… you’re a vampire,” you begin hesitantly, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.

“I am,” he answers, smiling at you indulgently.

“Does that mean that you kill people regularly?” You hold your breath, bracing yourself for the answer.

“Not regularly,” he clarifies. “I have killed vampire Slayers who attempted to kill me and mine, mostly.”

“There are vampire slayers?” you interrupt him, incredulous.

“Yes, they are a part of the Catholic Church.”

You blink down at him, stunned as you process that piece of information. “That’s… er… alright.”

“I do not make a habit of killing humans, Y/N,” he continues, returning to your initial question. “I have, on occasion, gone too far while feeding, and lost myself to the moment, but not for many years. It is largely an issue of self-restraint, and I have had centuries to develop that.”

You mull this information over.

“So you don’t normally kill people to feed on them?”

“Rarely, and never intentionally.”

“And how often do you feed?”

“Every week or so.”

“And do your… victims know about it?”

Valek looks away from you with a contrite expression. You wait him out for a long moment, staring down at the top of his head, but he doesn’t respond.

“You promised,” you remind him, and he looks back at you, ashamed.

“They do not,” he admits, and you find yourself reflexively leaning away from him. His eyes track your movement with an unhappy expression. “Please, may I explain to you why?”

You nod; if he’s willing to give you the truth, the least you can do is listen to it.

“Once we have fed, it is common practice to coat the wound in our saliva. It seals the wound and expedites healing. By morning, they will have a faint bruise, and the area may feel tender for a day or two, but nothing more. I typically mesmerize the victim to sleep beforehand; they never realize anything has happened.”

“You mesmerized me to sleep,” you point out with a cold expression. “Did you feed on me?”

“No, beloved, I assure you. I knew from the first minutes of our conversation that I would never in good conscience feed on you,” he reveals, sincerity ringing in every word. “Without your permission, that is.”

“Why would someone give permission to be fed on?” you ask, confused. “What good does it do them?”

“Companionship between vampires and humans is not unheard of, romantic or otherwise, though I have no personal experience with that sort of thing,” Valek says, and your heart skips a beat. “Some humans offer themselves to be fed on in place of unwitting victims, believing it to be easier on their conscience for befriending one of my kind.”

He rests his head on your mattress next to your legs, looking up at you with a scorching gaze that has your knees going weak. “I have also been told that the sensation of being fed on is nothing short of ecstasy.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you busy yourself by adjusting your position – namely so that you can clench your legs together, darkly seductive images coming to mind. Perhaps Valek’s vampirism was yet another reason you had been drawn to him, your sexual fantasies far less innocent than your relative inexperience would suggest.

“Regardless,” you say, trying to get back on track – or at least away from the current topic. “Just because you heal someone up afterwards and they never know about it doesn’t justify feeding on them without their knowledge.”

“I agree with you; my reasons are entirely selfish,” Valek concedes, looking regretful once more. “But think of how you responded when I showed you what I am; how you are still afraid of me now.”

You swallow, thinking back to the primal fear that flowed through you as you had seen his true form for the first time.

“I do not enjoy being a monster, Y/N,” Valek admits, his voice filled with anguish. “I do not want to cause harm to humans, to see their fear and revulsion in their eyes. Not even if I can compel them to forget it by morning.”

You pity him, seeing the toll that the centuries of suffering he has endured has taken on him. It wasn’t his choice to be a vampire, you presume, and watching others be terrified of you for doing what was necessary to stay alive must be intolerable. Perhaps there is some logic to his approach…

You pester him with further questions, each of his answers only bringing up more questions. He tells you about his abilities – you grill him particularly aggressively about mesmerization – and how many of his kind there are, which prompts questions about how someone is Turned into a vampire. The interrogation goes on for ages, and you find yourself fighting your fatigue more and more as the night stretches on.

“You said that you were the first vampire the other day - How did you become a vampire if no one was around to bite you?” you ask, immediately feeling horribly guilty as the question has him nearly cringing. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to tell me.”

He looks back up at you appreciatively, slowly lifting a gloved hand to yours, stroking the back of your hand. You snatch up one of his fingers, giving it a squeeze with a shy smile, and his gaze softens at the gesture.

“I said that I would tell you the truth, my treasure, and I will. But thank you for your grace, Y/N,” Valek coos, and you feel yourself blush. He summarizes the brutal and unjust exorcism gone wrong, and you feel a vicious rage building within you that you haven’t experienced before.

“That’s horrific,” you hiss, nearly shaking in your anger. Valek reaches up without having to look, reclaiming your hand once more.

“Do not be angry, beloved – it was very long ago, and I have made peace with it.”

“How?!” you ask incredulously. “What could possibly help you get over something like that?”

“It enabled me to meet you.”

His tone is casual, as though it should be obvious that knowing you was worth torture and a warped, twisted life of immortality, though he can’t bring himself to look into your eyes. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is hammering under your ribs.

“Valek… you can’t mean that.”

He smoothly gets to his feet, turning to look down at you with reverence. “I do mean it, little one,” he croons. “I may have accepted this existence centuries ago, but I have never been grateful for it until I met you. My heart no longer beats, but I feel as though it could for you, Y/N. I desire you in any and every capacity you would allow me to have you, my love."

The confession is everything you dreamed of hearing one day, and so much more.

“The other vampires that you mentioned before, the ones that were involved romantically with humans… how did those relationships end?” you ask hesitantly, and Valek’s eyes light up at the implication that you aren’t completely shutting down the idea of being with him.

“Some go their separate ways, some live out their partner’s mortal life with them, and others go on forever, the vampire Turning the human,” he explains, laying out your options. “I would never Turn you unless it was something that you wanted, Y/N,” he assures you. “I will be with you until your dying breath if you permit it, be that as a mortal or a vampire.”

You’re not sure when you moved off the bed, but you find yourself slowly closing the distance between you until you’re nearly in his arms.

“You are mesmerizing me, Jan Valek,” you accuse, looking up at him with unbridled longing. “You have to be. This can’t be real.”

“I assure you that you have the same hold on me, my treasure,” Valek purrs, his presence seeming to surround you, though he makes no move to touch you, as though worried the gesture might scare you away. “You have me completely at your mercy, Y/N. I will give you anything, you need only to ask.”

“I… I want everything that you are, Valek,” you confess, feeling as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders the moment you get the words out. “I love you; I need you.”

Valek slowly reaches for you, drawing you close to him with an arm around your waist, his other hand gently brushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear before cradling the side of your face.

“Kiss me,” you beg in a whisper, and he immediately obliges, bending to capture your lips with his own. The tingling sensation that had raced through you when your hand had touched his gloved one in the past pales in comparison to the sheer electricity that courses through you as your lips meet. Your desire fully overwhelms you as you throw yourself at him, leaping into his arms to twine your arms around his neck, your bodies flush with one another as you kiss him with everything you’ve got.

Valek seems briefly taken aback by your ferocity; it takes him a moment before he lifts you right off your feet, holding you against him with ease as you devour one another. His lips are surprisingly soft and warm, and incredibly inviting – you find yourself getting dizzy. Valek lowers you back to the ground, trying to break the kiss, but you cling to him; he ends up having to forcefully pull you off of him.

“You stopped breathing, beloved,” he explains with a chuckle when you pout at him, not even aware of your body frantically trying to catch its breath. You blush, horribly embarrassed, and he scoops you up, carrying you to the bed and sitting you down on it, moving to stand back from you, intent on waiting for you to calm down.

“That’s hardly my fault,” you say huffily, staring up at him with dark, hooded eyes, and he smirks down at you in a way that has your whole body trembling with need. “Please don’t stop!”

Valek has you on your back on the bed quicker than you can blink, looming over you with his larger form but pointedly not touching you. Impatiently, you reach up to pull him down but he thwarts your attempts, gathering your wrists and pinning them over your head gently with one hand. Such a little act of dominance has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, completely ready and willing to give yourself to him in any way he wants. 

“Tell me what you need, my heart. I want to taste your desire in your words,” he purrs, lowering his body closer to yours but remaining just out of reach.

He makes you want to let go and lose control and just feel, and you tell him as much, shamelessly begging him to take you and do all the darkly romantic, sensual things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to bring yourself to ask for. The heated look he gives you assures you that he will give you them all and nearly has you delirious with lust.

He moves agonizingly slowly, his hands controlled and precise as he undresses you. Every inch of your flesh exposed to his gaze is looked upon with adoration and awe, and he doesn’t stop to give into his burning desire to touch you until he has fully divested you of your clothes, relying on every shred of patience he’s developed during the course of his existence. Having not had his centuries of experience, you eagerly try to push his heavy coat off his shoulders, your fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt as he chuckles and moves to help you take off his coat.

“Patience, my dear,” Valek croons, taking hold of your hands once more as you squirm underneath him, chilly and impatient and desperate for his touch. “I fully intend to savour every moment of this as I make you mine.”

“But I want to see you!” you whine, pouting up at him and batting your eyes. He looks down at your naked form, desperate with need for him, and the pale blue veins around his eyes start to appear as he gives into his carnal desires. He licks his lips, and you see his fangs sharpening in his mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan wantonly as his vampiric side comes out. Instead of the fear that you had felt the first time you had seen him in this form, now it only sends a thrill through you; somehow, you want him even more because of the danger he poses. Valek, however, misunderstands and immediately moves to soothe you.

“It is alright, Y/N, just the similarities between bloodlust and my lust for you that bring this side out of me. I can stop if you are frightened, but I assure you that I am still in control of myself.”

“I’m not!” you pant, unsuccessfully trying to squirm out of his grip and pounce on him. “Please, Valek, I’m not scared of you doing anything except stopping.”

He leans down to kiss you once again to silence your complaints, and you happily oblige him, letting him kiss you into submission, his dark hair falling around you like a curtain. Still with his lips on yours, Valek tears his gloves off to reveal his long, slender fingers and sharp nails, running them lightly up your sides and making you arch up off the bed with a wail, your cries swallowed by his mouth.

He releases your lips, allowing you to catch your breath while he lays kisses all over your face as though he wants to claim every inch of you. You hope he does; you’re already all his.

“Your skin tastes of sunshine,” he murmurs seductively, his lips moving lightly down your neck to one of your shoulders, then slowly making their way along your collarbone to the other. “I would bask in your warmth forever if you would let me, beloved.”

“I will, I do,” you moan, reaching between you to try to finish taking off his shirt. A loud, purring rumble emanates from within him as your fingers stroke his bare chest, giving you a fluttering sense of pride. Feeling more confident, you slide your hands up along his neck to hold his face, tilting it upwards so that his eyes meet yours. He cocks his head at you with an inquisitive expression.

“You know that I love your old-fashioned approach to romance, Valek,” you tell him seriously, “and we will have my entire lifetime – if not forever – to take things slow. But I need to be yours right now. And I don’t want you to be gentle; show me that you desire me the way I do you – don’t hold back.”

He gives you a nearly feral look, his hands curling into fists as he tries to control himself; somehow, you are able to sense the energy he’s fighting to keep inside of him instead of tearing into something.

“You wish for a taste of darkness, beloved?” he asks, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You gawk at his broad, pale chest, trying not to drool, and lick your lips. Valek hisses at the action, adjusting himself over his pants. You sit up, your hands moving to his belt; this time, he doesn’t stop you.

“I wish for a taste of you, Valek,” you tell him in a fierce whisper, looking up at him as you remove his belt and move to the button of his pants. “If being rough with me will make you feel half as good as I know it’ll make me feel, then yes, please. Claim me, my love. Make all of me yours.”

He pins you back against the sheets with a growl, his sharp nails drawing teasing patterns across your breasts, your nipples peaking as if to demand more of the rough treatment. You arch your back, thrusting your breasts into his hands with a needy cry. Valek is utterly merciless in his torment, bringing you to the threshold between pleasure and pain and keeping you there. You are practically vibrating with need as one of his hands trails down your torso to your thighs, parting them with ease. One long finger slips between your slick folds, grazing your clit, and you shriek, bucking your hips towards him. You hear him snicker softly against your chest, his lips and tongue continuing to tease your breasts as his hands move lower.

“You are otherworldly when you are giving into sin, Y/N,” he croons, his fingers insistent as they explore your entrance, slick with your arousal. You let out a whimper that he swallows into his mouth, his fingers working at your clit and not relenting until you’re on the precipice of orgasm before he backs off, only to repeat the action, edging you over and over until you’re nearly delirious. And still, all you want is more.

“Please!” you manage to beg him, your hands guiding his face to your neck, wordlessly trying to convey what you want. You’re losing all sense of lucidity, clinging desperately to your sanity as he brings you so close to the edge. Valek turns his head to the side, his tongue reaching out to lick the outer shell of your ear and making you shiver.

“Please what, my sweet? I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, and you can tell he is enjoying prolonging your torture.

“Bite me! Feed on me!” you demand shamelessly, your eyes shut tight as you try to focus on the feeling of his mouth on your skin, seeking any indication that he will give this to you. “Make me scream for you.”

You hear him inhale deeply, his nose lightly running up and down the side of your neck, and you turn your head to the side to give him better access. His fingers have stopped their endless teasing of your swollen clit, but you are still trembling in anticipation. You feel his tongue dart out and give your sensitive flesh a sinful lick, making you gasp for breath.

Finally, you feel him bite you, the only pain being a slight sting that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you. You’re not even sure that ecstasy was an accurate enough description for this feeling coursing through your veins – the pleasure is absolutely indescribable. Your eyes roll back in your head, the parts of your body not currently pinned in place by his body thrashing out of your control as you come violently. You hear yourself distantly shrieking in rapture, moaning and whimpering his name, babbling for more as he feeds on you, his fingers relentless at your clit and drawing out your climax – or maybe he was just making you orgasm again and again without interruption.

Eventually, he ends his torment, licking your wound to seal it before lifting his head from your neck, traces of blood on his lips. He stares down at you with a satiated expression, trying to remove his hand from between your clenched thighs, still spasming and out of your control. You’re sure that your inner thighs will be bruised from how you had squeezed them against his firm hand, and the idea only adds to your bliss. He leans down to kiss you but hesitates, unsure of your willingness to taste your own blood. You’re able to gather enough strength and lucidity to force yourself to sit up and kiss him, pulling him down to lay on top of you. There is a slight metallic taste to his lips, but it is largely overshadowed by the intoxicating taste of Valek, an indescribable flavour that you’re sure you’ll never get enough of.

“Finally satisfied, my little temptress?” Valek asks teasingly against your lips, your body completely relaxed beneath him.

“Nearly,” you hum through a yawn, blindly reaching to remove his pants once more. He groans, rolling over with you and cradling you on top of his chest.

“You are exhausted, beloved,” he points out, stroking your hair affectionately. “There will be time enough for that later.” Stubbornly, you ignore him, pushing yourself up onto your knees and tugging his pants down his legs, trying and failing to dodge his hands as they snatch up your wrists.

“Valek!” you whine, pouting down at him. His lips quirk into a smile at your persistence, and you narrow your eyes at him before throwing one leg over him and straddling his narrow waist, inches away from where you really want to be. Valek stills, transfixed, and you slowly bend down until your face is right above his, feeling decidedly naughty.

“I believe we agreed that you would be rough with me, my love,” you murmur, one hand drawing teasing patterns across his bare chest. “I hope you don’t think I’m so delicate that I’ve already had enough of you tonight. I need you to defile me, inside and out.” You grind yourself against his firm abdominal muscles, and he growls. You decide to try the innocent approach next to get him to give in.

“Please?” you ask, batting your eyelashes down at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, and he lets out a wild snarl, rolling you onto your back again and tearing off the rest of his clothes hastily before positioning himself between your legs. You can’t see his cock, pressed against him as you are, but you can certainly feel it, the silky hard length rubbing against your thighs enticingly. Eagerly, you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to line him up with your entrance by feel alone.

“You will be my undoing, my treasure,” he tells you, his blue eyes locked with yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you until your foreheads touch.

“And you will be my forever, Valek,” you reply, kissing him passionately. He thrusts into your wet heat in one fluid movement that has your toes curling and sets about claiming you yet again; you have only so much time before the sunrise.

---

[FYI: The poem Valek chose for her is “Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond” by E.E. Cummings]

Hope you all enjoyed! Day #3's fic is looking to be more depraved than this one, if all goes according to plan... 👁️👄👁️ (It's a carry-over from Dark Desires October I didn't get to; sue me!)

[dixonlvr-online]

Dear diary

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: Swear words

Genre: Fluff

Challenge: Note to self: don't get kidnapped / Dear Diary @flufftober / "I know what this looks like."

Dear Diary,

Beth told me it’s important to keep track of our lives now because it’ll be history for the future. Now that things have settled here (and I’ve gotten a little bored, to be honest), I think I’ll follow her example and write things down.

Presently, I’m guessing it’s been about a year and a half since the world ended. The world as we knew it, that is. It’s hard to remember my life before. It’s like I woke up when everything shut down. I feel stronger now, more capable.

Life is simpler. No technology to distract us, unreasonable bosses at work, or tedious, meaningless tasks that were expected of us. It’s all about survival now, building from scratch. I help Rick in the garden some days. Farmer life suits him. I’m happy to see him content after everything he’s gone through.

Other days, I’m on the fenceline killing walkers. Or in the guard tower killing time. Or helping Carol prepare meals for everyone. The best days, my favorite days, are when I get to leave the prison. Going on runs to pick up supplies (Note for history: medicine, non-perishable food, and mechanical tools have become priority. Clothes, hygiene products, and weapons are also great finds.), scouting the area for signs of other groups or threats, and hunting with Daryl.

Hunting mornings are the best mornings. We leave early, because Daryl says that’s the best time to start. It’s quieter, easier to hear things. I love early mornings at the prison. Sneaking past everyone sleeping in their cells, quietly pouring myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, feeling the cold air hit me when I step outside.

And yeah, it’s nice to have Daryl to myself. We had a rough start, the two of us. Back at the quarry, I assumed he’d run off when he couldn’t find Merle. He was always so rough with us, argumentative over little things. I’ll admit, after our first conversation ended badly, I didn’t really try to reach out again.

At the farm, though, I was captured. Seeing him search for Sophia day after day, be Rick’s right-hand when things with Shane got weird, and just be there for us, well…I couldn’t help but talk to him more.

Thank God he came to his senses and didn’t leave with Merle forever. Nights in the guard tower would’ve been so lonely without him. And I feel so at ease with him, so free. I guess that’s why I love early mornings so much. 

We’re going on a hunt tomorrow! Daryl told me “not to wear my high heels” because I was scaring the animals. For the record: I’m wearing boots, like everyone else. Apparently my footsteps are loud, though. Not sure why he lets me come with him, honestly. He definitely doesn’t need my help. I think my jokes are pretty solid, though (I’ve made him laugh multiple times and every time it felt like I’d won first prize at the spelling bee).

Okay, this got longer than I expected. I guess I didn’t give you much information for the history books, but it’s a start. This is my diary, after all. I’ll write about whatever I damn please! I’ll try not to talk about Daryl so much next time, ha. 

Until next time,

Y/N

–

Dear Diary,

So…it’s been a while. Things got crazy there for a minute, so you’ll understand why I haven’t been writing. This is a new notebook, too. The old one got left behind at the prison. I can barely remember what I wrote in it, to be honest. Probably my pining rants about Daryl.

Speaking of, we’re together now! Exciting, right? I don’t know. It feels like I’ve known him forever, and like we were together a long time before we were “together.” Now that we’re settled in Alexandria, things are different. It’s almost like we’re allowed to put labels on things, to tell people how we feel about them. It’s expected in a way.

He asked me to live with him, in the basement of the house we share with some others. I was definitely surprised when he asked me, not because we hadn’t shared a living space before, but because…well…he asked me. He was all shy about it, too. It was adorable.

Obviously I said yes. Living together, it’s easy. We already move as one, like extensions of each other, so the dynamic is good. The close proximity is what opened up the rest of it.

Our second week here, he kissed me. God, it was probably the best moment of my life. I couldn’t stop smiling for days after. Carol and Rosita teased me about it, which was embarrassing, but whatever. Then we kissed again, and again, and again, and every day since.

I’d give anything for it to be like this forever. Everyone looks so happy. Maybe it’s too good to be true, it probably is, but I want to believe we can hold onto this. Rick’s been scheming, Daryl told me, but hopefully it doesn’t mess things up too badly. We’ll make the changes we need to make and I’ll stand beside them through it all. We’re family. 

Okay, I’m sure this update was much better than anything I wrote at the prison. My chest hurts with how light I feel. Here’s to more days like this! History, I hope this is noted as the beginning.

Love,

Y/N

–

Dear Diary,

It feels strange writing those words at this age. Like I’m a teenage girl again, stuck in my room and hating the world. I’m not that girl. I don’t even remember being that girl. Life feels so right today. The pieces fell into place.

Today, I’m a mother. I’m a wife. I’m a leader in my community. I’m a friend. I’m a survivor.

Alexandria is as beautiful as ever, moreso now with all its scars and memories. Man, we’ve gone through some shit. There’s no sugar coating it. The building I’m in right now was half burned down at one point. But we rebuilt it with our bare hands, everyone helping their neighbors without hesitation.

Daryl is stronger than ever. I’m in awe of him every day. We’ve had our rough patches, for sure, but we always pulled through. I couldn’t imagine walking away from him for good, so of course we always came back together.

Watching him as a father has only made me fall in love harder. His little girl is his entire world. The way he softens around her, laughs with her, comforts her. I could be a fly on the wall of their relationship for the rest of my life. 

Also, Daryl brought a dog home. How could I not be in love?

I guess my point is, I’m happy. Despite it all. Because of it all. I know I’m luckier than most. Michonne losing Rick was one of the hardest things to watch, not just because I lost a friend, but because I lost two friends for a while. I hope, with time, she’s able to regain the joy she had before. Judith and RJ are helping with that. I’m trying to.

Gabriel and Rosita are an interesting development. Not an unwelcome one, God knows they both deserve happiness, but yeah, definitely a little surprising. Even Daryl was asking me about it the other day and he hates gossip.

When we first got here, I wished for things to always be as good as they were then. Looking back, things weren’t as good as I thought they were. We lost a lot of things that year. Lots of people. One day, I’ll write it all down here, “for history” as Beth would say.

For now, I’m going to enjoy the peace while it lasts. Whatever comes next, I know we’ll get through it. We always do.

Yours truly,

Y/N

[missmoodring]

Act 1 Chapter 2 Part 2.1

Magnolia Promenade – Sunday, January 7th, 2024

Miles away, the Satos also enjoyed their first family dinner. Of course, Mr. Sato was nowhere to be seen, a common occurrence in this family. Instead, two other people joined their meal.

After a troubling conversation with her husband, Ken, Marlene looked forward to spending this night with her family. She wasn’t ready to start this ‘intensive investigation’ into her family’s past but she understood it was necessary step to uncover who was stalking them. But before that fiasco, Marlene forged a smile and raised her glass.

“Tonight let’s celebrate my handsome nephew, Kion, and his return to Willow Creek. I understand that a redirection in life may be unsettling but Kion returns a new man with a new girlfriend and child. I think the growth of his family and subsequently, the growth of our own, is quite beautiful! Welcome home!” Marlene toasted.

“I can drink to that!” Kion said with glee while the family took a polite sip of the aged red wine.

“Where is that girlfriend of yours?” Ken Jr asked. Out of everyone here, KJ was the most excited to have his favorite (and only) cousin back.

“She’ll be here any moment. She got caught up at work.” Kion answered and chased his answer with another sip of wine. Marlene couldn’t help but to catch her sister’s eye. She heard a few things about the new girlfriend.

“You guys are gonna love her! Right mom?” Kion asked.

“Right,” Sabrina answered and then quickly washed her lie down with another sip of wine.

“I’m sure we will. Everyone was so accepting when I starting bringing Natalia around. No worries, champ.” KJ said in an attempt to comfort his cousin. Although that was true, Marlene shared a similar uneasiness about Natalia that Sabrina had for Kion’s new girlfriend.

To Marlene, Natalia was nothing special. Sure, she was cute but that was it. She wasn’t witty, charming, or intelligent. She was just …bland. Eventually, Marlene learned to accept that her son had settled for a dough faced girl who was nothing special. Just a girl.

At the far side of the table sat Evelyn Sato. She was still taking in the presence of everyone gathered together. She had spent years away from her family so the reintroduction of “family dinners” was tough. In the last few weeks of being home, Evelyn had mastered adding meaningless commentary to every conversation to mask her disinterest in whatever her family blabbed about. Weddings, grandchildren, business ideas, vacations… None of it interested her.

She twirled her nearly full glass of wine. Just one glass tonight should be alright, right?

“Ev,” it was Aunt Sabrina who broke Evelyn out of her thoughts. “What’s it like working with your dad?”

Evelyn released a deep exhale which only made Sabrina laugh. Sabrina was well aware that her brother-in-law was an uptight asshole in and out of the office, but she didn’t think it would only take a few days for the daddy-daughter duo to bump heads.

“If you’re looking for work, you’re always welcome at Fox and Associates.” Sabrina offered.

Being a lawyer was Evelyn’s long lost dream. She always imagined herself in court fighting for innocent people like Aunty Brina did. It wasn’t until Evelyn got to college that she got a taste of being an actual criminal defense lawyer. She definitely couldn’t imagine herself doing this for the rest of her life. But for a couple hours a day, just to get away from her father, she would definitely reconsider.

“Evelyn wouldn’t hate it that much if she actually cared.” Ken interjected.

For the next few ten minutes, the siblings argued over how boring the makeup of a computer chip actually could be.

“Baby!” The voice silenced the siblings as a woman walked up to the table and kissed Kion’s cheek.

“Hi everyone, I’m Cheyenne,” the woman introduced herself as she sat down at the table.

The family warmly greeted her back. Well, mostly everyone.

Kion introduced everyone at the table to Cheyenne. Immediately, Cheyenne took a liking to the other outsider, Natalia.

“How did you two meet?” Cheyenne asked.

“Oh, the typical way. Social Bunny. He ‘accidentally’ sent me a friend request and then ‘accidentally’ liked all my pictures and posts. Then he sent me a message saying he thought he knew me and we just started talking all the time. How about you guys?” KJ snickered as Natalia retold the story.

“At a club.”

“He saw me first”

“but I approached him first”

“we danced together”

“and the rest is history”

Beginning \ Previous\ Next \ Directory

[contreparry]

❝  i was sort’ve hoping you needed me.  is that selfish?  ❞

happy writing!

-inquisimer

Here's some Leliana and Morrigan friendship for @dadrunkwriting

She had hoped to avoid a conversation- any conversation- with her former companions. Morrigan had never been one for pleasantries or small talk, and the passage of so many years did not sand down her edges or awkwardness. And there was one particular matter that would only make conversation impossible. A lifetime of keeping herself to herself by any means necessary, and now she kept her greatest vulnerability, her joy, her love- at her side.

She could never simply 'converse' about Kieran to anyone, but especially to someone who knew the particulars of his conception. Kieran took after her in many respects, but Surana dwelled within him as well- in his frown, in his small smiles, in the way Kieran laughed. Anyone who met Warden Surana and then saw Kieran would see. They would know. And then- then would come questions. Prying. Whispers. And danger. Always danger. Once, so many years ago, it might not have mattered, but now-

Kieran could not be put at risk. Morrigan had been so very careful to keep Kieran safe, but necessity required her presence at Skyhold and she would not leave her son behind. They traveled together, and she hoped that they would travel unnoticed, or that certain parties would let her be out of politeness. Foolish thing to hope. She happened to spy a flicker of dull purple and copper red in the shadows of the upper levels of the great hall, and Morrigan had been dreading this conversation since the day she and Kieran arrived in Skyhold.

"Fly away, Nightingale. I have no quarrel with you today," Morrigan said, balancing her sharp warning with the need to not alarm her son. Kieran was curled up on a garden bench reading a book. His timid request to peruse the tomes in Skyhold's library apparently melted the Inquisitor's icy mien, and he was given permission to run wild through the collection. His appetite for literature was voracious, and Morrigan was glad to see him indulge in his hobby.

"It is hardly a quarrel, Morrigan. Merely... catching up after all these years," Leliana hopped over the balustrade of the gazebo with ease. She looked... well. Older, but they had all aged. She certainly had. She kept her gaze fixed on Kieran as he read. He must have reached an exciting part of his novel, for he tensed his shoulders as he read- just like Surana would whenever he was engaged in a task that required his complete concentration.

"He does look like him," Leliana commented, and Morrigan twitched slightly. Five steps down the stairs, ten steps to cross the garden, and she could take Kieran and flee this place and Leliana's prying eyes and pert tongue.

"Is this what you call 'catching up?'" Morrigan asked, her voice tight. Leliana smelled blood in the water, as it were, for she laughed. It was light and airy, pleasant on the ear and utterly terrifying. She spent all her life cultivating an air of mystery and keeping others at arm's length, and her caution only increased when Kieran was born. But she could not keep him isolated forever- she must not. That was what her mother would have done, and Morrigan would never, ever be that. She would not run. Kieran needed time around people- other people, not just her. So Morrigan would not run. Her work was here- and Kieran was so happy...

"We might as well get the worst out of the way," Leliana said. "He looks like our dear friend. And you, of course. But that scowl!" She sounded... soft. Morrigan was unused to others speaking of Kieran. She kept him so close, so secret- but she could not deny that it warmed her heart to hear another speak of him with such fondness.

"Unmistakable. I am aware."

"I do have a few recommendations for him, if he enjoys that novel," Leliana remarked, and when Morrigan turned towards the woman she shrugged- as if she was only making casual, meaningless conversation. But her eyes- Leliana's offer was sincere, and Morrigan hardly knew what to do about that after all of these years.

"Why?" Morrigan was glad that Leliana understood her query immediately.

"I was an avid reader as a child, and I sense a kindred spirit within him. And I was hoping you needed me. Is that selfish?" Leliana asked. Morrigan wanted to say yes. Yes, it was selfish to want to be needed- and Morrigan would know, because she was selfishness incarnate. Too much like her mother- but she would fight it. Every day she would fight it- but she couldn't make a significant deviation from her mother's parenting if she kept Kieran isolated from the world. Morrigan needed others around her- she needed Leliana, no matter how selfish it made her to need friends.

"I am a... competent mother. Sometimes I'm even a decent one. I simply do the opposite of mine and adjust my methods from there. But there are times..." Morrigan trailed off, waiting for Leliana to laugh- to tease, to interject, to offer some sage counsel because Leliana was formally educated and socialized properly and would be eager to remark on her faults. But she didn't. She... didn't. Leliana simply waited, watching Morrigan's face with her pale blue eyes, her smile small and warm. Morrigan sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Kieran would be delighted to find a fellow lover of literature. He will be shy. He has little experience with strangers," Morrigan cautioned, even as she reminded herself that Leliana wouldn't torment a child the way she teased Morrigan all those years ago.

"I will let him finish this novel first," Leliana replied with a smile, and Morrigan settled back to let Leliana pry more tales out of her with her irritating persistence and charm.

[bigbadbatch]

In My Mind - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Delicate

Warnings: Semi-Public, Fingering, heavy jealousy.

Word Count: 2.5k

Listening Recs - Delicate and Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus by T. Swift.

Naboo is beautiful in a way I can’t even describe. The sound of singing birds permeates the air, the breeze smells of flowers and salt water, and the palace we're staying at? I have never ever had this kind of luxury before. This moment feels like it's a thousand years from the Onderan revolution, but in reality, only three days have passed.

Rex, Fives, Anakin and I flit around a grand ballroom. This is day two of Chandrila Peace Ball training, and I must admit, I prefer this style of training to the style Jedi use in the temple and on the battlefield. No knives, no blasters, no sabers. Just music and conversational etiquette and dancing lessons. 

Tomorrow we leave for an excursion on Chandrila. Mon Mothma, a senator of the planet, is hosting a Peace Ball in her palace in Hanna City. Both Seperatists and Republic members will be in attendance, as a way to foster peaceful conversation and negotiations over expensive food, wine, and strict etiquettes. Chandrila has etiquette rules for everything; how you eat and speak, how you leave a conversation, how you breathe- practically. Any manner of small, typical moments in my day to day life could offend the wrong person if done at the Peace Ball. That’s why we are here in Naboo.

Padme Amidala, a Senator and not-so-secret lover of Anakin, is training us for this reconnaissance mission. Anakin and I, paired with a Nabooian high-family member, will attend as esteemed guests. Though Anakin is known across the galaxy as a Jedi, my low-profile missions allow me the luxury of staying unknown by most as one, meaning I can spy and get close to the other guests much more easily than he can at this Ball. Rex and Fives will attend as our security detail, but much to their dismay, must attend these dance lessons as well. It is a cardinal sin on Chandrila to deny someone a dance if asked, and Chandrillans do not differentiate between high level guests and lower level attendees- all are welcome on the floor.

So we see Rex and Fives, each in button-up shirts and slacks, dancing with a high birth Nabooian woman, trying hard not to step on their toes. It seems so strange to see them out of blacks or armor. Normally I would laugh at this, or make mental notes on what to tease Rex about later. Instead, I seethe, all because of her. 

The second we stepped off the ship yesterday she runs to greet him. “Rex!” She squeals and her arms are around his neck and she hugs him- too tightly. He pulls away, a startled look on his face. “I- uh- didn’t expect to see you, Nadine.” She giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear coyly. My stomach is churning. He clearly knows this woman, and I don’t need the Force to tell me that he knows her a little too well for my liking. After dinner last night, he pulled me aside.

“Let me explain.” He said. I patiently hear him out.

Rex had an extended mission on Naboo during the Trade Federation crisis. Nadine and he had a fling: small, meaningless, nothing. It was years ago.

I smile at him and say “We all have a past.”

And I mean it. He knows my history with Fives, and has never let our one-time tryst bother him, even with Fives’ and I’s strong friendship and his being here. I want to give him that same courtesy back, but my heart twists and turns in my chest every time I hear her giggle and coo over him, no matter how much he tries to keep his distance.

As he continues dancing with her, learning the steps to yet another traditional Chandrilan ballroom dance, Fives walks over, taking a break from the dreaded dancing. He looks ragged, rather than rugged. “Fives, are you feeling okay?” I ask. With a slight shake of his head, he leans against the wall I’m standing near, and snatches my water out of my hand, guzzling it down.

I had talked to him after that night at 79’s, where the trooper accused me of sleeping around. Fives assured me he had never, would never, talk about it. I believe him.

With a heavy sigh he hands me back the empty cup he stole from me. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I keep having this nightmare.” He says quietly. I nod. “I know how that is.” I respond. Then I have a thought.

“Us Jedi have a little trinket we give to younglings who have trouble sleeping. We imbue it with the Force to calm them at night. I'd be happy to lend you mine, I bring it with me everywhere I go.” I don’t have the heart to tell him it hasn't worked for me or my nightmares since Rankill. He smiles softly at me.

“That’s sweet of you. I'll take anything at this point.”

I smile back at him. “I'll bring it to you at dinner.” I say and squeeze his shoulder. W

e look onto the ballroom floor where Anakin and Rex continue with their dance lessons. Nadine and Rex are practicing a particularly close and slow dance, and I hiss through my teeth.

“Easy, Keria.” Fives says under his breath. I sigh.

Fives knows all about Rex and I's... whatever this is. He is dual confidant to both of us, and our lookout at times.

“She’s fucking annoying.” I say quietly and he laughs. It feels good to hear him laugh. I realize I don’t recall him laughing since before the 79’s incident.

“Don’t worry about her. I have it on good authority that Rex finds her annoying as well.” He said hushed under the music.

A sly smile crosses my face at this. We are interrupted by my dance partner, done with his short lesson break and back to hold me captive once again.

I would be attending the ball as the guest of Sir Tils Manx, who’s family was the richest on Naboo.

“You’re ready to go again, I presume?” He asks as he puts his hand to my lower back as he leads me to the dance floor. One hand on my hip, the other in my outreached hand, we begin our measured twirling about the room. His hand is too low on my back, and he knows it. He is someone who is used to getting anything he wants, but not this time. I smile and nod, not engaging any further.

Last night as we all had cocktails after dinner, he saddled up next to me and struck up a conversation. At first, he was polite, asking generic questions about being a Jedi. Rex stood near my side, and I knew he was gasoline whilst ignoring Nadine.

“So.” Manx says.

“I know attachment is forbidden for a Jedi. But, and this may be too forward of me to ask, but I believe sex isn’t off the table?”

Rex nearly chokes on his drink and he sets it down on the table a little too hard.

“You’re right.” I say. “That was too forward.” And retire to my room. 

Here I am now dancing with him, and he hasn’t picked up on any of my hints. His hands are clammy, and though he may be attractive, I find him repulsive. I look over to where Rex and Nadine dance. She’s beautiful. Long blond hair, full lips. She’s bubbly, effervescent. No wonder Rex had been taken by her so long ago. I grit my teeth as she stares at his face a little too long.

Normally I wouldn’t care like this, and I might even have preferred it, once upon a time. I had gone home with couples before, and I enjoyed sharing the men I slept with, with other women. I enjoyed seeing them enjoy themselves. But this? The constant images that pop in my head of Rex and Nadine, touching, kissing, fucking? It makes me feel sick. The midnight storm of the Force within me is full of hail and freezing rain when I think of it.

“You seem distracted.” Manx says, and I look at him.

“Oh sorry, I can be a bit easily distracted sometimes.” I reply and he smiles.

He leans close as we perform a quick spin and whispers “I have something I’d love to distract you with, maybe later?” His breath is hot on my neck as he finishes his sentence and pulls away, and I do my best not to snap at him, already fuming from my impulsive thoughts of Rex and that woman.

“I’ll pass.” I say, and the music ends. We bow and before he can talk to me anymore, I storm off to the room I’ve been lent in this castle. I’m halfway there when footsteps catch up to me, and I turn thinking Manx is still at it.

“I’m not interested.” I snap, but look up into familiar eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was you.” Rex’s face seems shocked at my outburst.

“I came to check on you, you left in a hurry. Everything okay?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I just am tired of dealing with Mr. Handsy.”

Rex’s jaw clenches at this. “I’ll talk to him.” He says sternly and goes to walk away but I grab his wrist.

“No. I only have to put up with him for a little longer, and I don’t want to make things worse. I’m just on edge.”

Rex relaxes his arm and his hand falls into mine. With a glance over his shoulder to check that the coast is clear of Jedi Masters and prying eyes, he steps close to me in the hallway. “I’ve missed you, mesh’la. We haven’t had any time alone.” He whispers and kisses me lightly. I kiss him back, suddenly reminded that it’s been days since I’ve felt his lips on mine. “I’d say you can sneak into my room tonight, but Anakin and Padme are right across the hall.” I whisper back. He groans in exasperation. Then there’s footsteps coming around the corner and we break apart, just a General and a Captain having a conversation.

“Oh there you are Rexy!” A high-pitched voice calls, and I know in that moment I’ll never call him Rexy again. Nadine nearly skips up to him and hooks her arm around his. “Oh hello, Keira” she says feigning innocence. I nod a hello back.

“I’m going to steal him away for some etiquette lessons.” She says and pulls on his arm. “It’ll likely run into dinner time so we will just have to have our dinner together Rexy.”

I ball my fist at my side. Dinner, alone with her?

“Have fun.” I call out as he is dragged away, looking at me with some emotion I can’t name on his face. 

---

Later that night, after dinner, I wander through the gardens. The hedges of lilac and lavender paint the fountains in the purple moonlight. I haven’t seen Rex again tonight since Nadine pulled him away before dinner. I’m almost glad for it. Manx had sat beside me at dinner, and under the table put his hand on my knee, daring to slide it up my thigh. I quickly brushed it away, but if Rex had seen, I wonder about what would have happened. Part of me wants to see him jealous like me, wonders if he feels as unhinged inside as I do when our dance partners are too close to us.

Rounding a corner I hear a giggle. I know that giggle. I step into the opening of a courtyard where benches surround a fountain. I scan the space, ready to come up with some excuse to have Rex leave with me. She’s had him long enough today. I freeze when I spot them. He sits, arms crossed on a bench beside her. His expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t look at her. She, however, is doing everything she can to be looked at.

“Didn’t you miss me at all, Rexy?” She coos and I can’t help it, I start to cross the courtyard. I’m halfway there when I’m stopped in my tracks.

She takes her hand and traces his ear with a finger. She grabs his chin and turns him to face her. Her other hand is on his chest and slides down until it rests on his belt. She’s leaning in, lips a breath away while I’m holding my own breath. She goes in for the kiss. 

I’m shaking.

He turns his head, Nadine missing his lips and kissing his cheek instead.

It’s still too much. In my haste to get away, I turn and trip, the scattering of stones giving me away. “Keira?” Rex calls, his voice strained. I don’t respond, I just walk away as quickly as I can. I don’t know where to go, I’m lost in the maze of the palace and end up in the ballroom. Broad pillars, three people wide, surround the inner circle of the room and the marble floors echo my steps. The only light coming in is from the large skylight taking up the whole ceiling. The outer circle of the room is bathed in darkness, and behind the pillars looks like a perfect place to cry. I am making my way there when There are hurried footsteps behind me and Rex calls out “Keira, wait!”

I freeze by a pillar, my hand on it supporting my weight. I feel dizzy and hurt and sick and angry and jealous all at once. Rex grabs my hand spinning me.

“Please Keira, listen to me.” He says and I just look up at him silently.

The force within me is icy.

“I’ve been trying to thwart her all day, this whole trip really.” He says his voice bouncing off the walls, amplified by the resounding acoustics in the ballroom.

“It’s fine.” I say flatly. The ice in my veins has taken over my voice. “You didn’t have to stop on my account.” I spit, and even I am shocked by it but I don’t stop. “If you want to be with her that’s fine. I’m not going to hold you back from what you want.”

He looks at me incredulously.” You know what I want. I want you.” He says.

I shrug. “I don’t know if maybe you want others too. We never defined this, I shouldn’t just assume you want exclusivity. Do what you want Rex.” And I turn to leave, heart pounding in that icy anger still. Rough hands grab me and pull me behind the pillar, pinning me against it in the darkness of the outer circle.

“Maker, you don’t get it do you?” He growls. He kisses me roughly then pulls away. “I only want you. I want you every second of every day. I want to be with you in the open, I want everyone to know that you’re mine, that I want you to be mine.”

He kisses me again and this time his hand is gathering my dancing skirt hiking it up high on my thighs. “Rex.” I whisper.

“Shut up and listen to me, just for a second.” He snaps.

I’ve never seen this side of him. He puts his middle two fingers in his mouth, wetting them, then he’s pulling my panties to the side and, oh Maker, he’s touching me.

“Do you know how it’s feels seeing Manx all over you since we got here?” He snarls.

His fingers make tight, fast circles on my clit and I’m gasping. He’s really touching me like this, in an open ballroom where anyone can walk in, hidden only by the night and a marble pillar.

“Do you know how angry, how jealous I’ve been, knowing he wants you? That he wants to be-”

his fingers move and he plunges them into me

“-inside you?”

My walls are fluttering and I am suddenly so wet for him.

“Rex.” I whine. He’s pumping his fingers in and out of me with haste, and the palm of his hand hits my clit with every thrust.

“You’re my girl. Got it? Not his, not anyone else’s, mine.”

I’m coming undone, completely in his hands. He kisses me again, his other hand coming to my throat.

“I want you, Keira. I want to be with you, and near you, and inside you. Only you. I'm yours.”

I can’t help it, I’m coiling tightly inside, flying higher and higher, I start to moan and the moan echoes along the marble walls and floor until Rex clasps a hand over my mouth. I look at him with wide eyes.

“Stay quiet, cyarika.” He says. “You want everyone to know that you’re about to come on my fingers? In the ballroom? Anyone could walk by and hear it. Shit, anyone could come in at any time and just see me making a mess of you like this.”

I’m losing it. This is so erotic and I’m on the brink.

“Come for me mesh’la” he growls in my ear, as he bites down on my neck and I obey. My body is racked with convulsions and I come, hands gripping the pillar keeping me upright. I scream and it’s muffled by his hand still on my mouth. My eyes flutter closed Rex removes his hands from both my core and my mouth. 

I open my heavy eyes to see him staring at me. He raises his hand to his lips and take those two fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Next time.” He says “I’m going to really taste you.”

Instantly I’m filled with need.

“Fuck me, Rex.” I blurt and my hands reach for his belt, my lips for his lips. “I want you, now.” I breathe.

I almost have his pants undone when he grabs my wrists and pins them on the pillar above my head.

“Not here.” He says strained.

“My room, we can sneak in.” I say, pleading.

He grits his teeth and stares at me

“I need you to fuck me Rex, Please.” And I’m squirming in his grip.

His hold tightens “Maker. Don’t beg me mesh’la. I can’t help myself if you beg.”

I look at him with doe eyes, lips trembling. “I need you.” I whisper.

He looks back at me, with a new determination. “No.” He says, and my breath catches.

“We’ve both been so patient mesh’la.” He breathes. “And when I fuck you…” he says leaning closer. “And I mean really fuck you…” his teeth are on my ear then on my neck. “It’s going to mean something. Because you mean something to me mesh’la.”

I’m frozen as he gently brings his lips to mine and kisses me more tenderly than he ever has. “So keep being patient.” He says and releases my hands. My legs nearly buckle, and he holds me upright.

“I would walk you to your room.” He says “but I worry everything I just said will come undone and I won’t be able to help myself from going in there with you tonight.”

I nod understanding, at a loss for words. I kiss him gingerly. “Goodnight.” I whisper. With a kiss on my forehead- he’s gone.

[thepolyamorouspolymath]

The ghosts of penises past strikes again... twice in one month.

I finally had cut ties with M. Like deleted his contact info from EVERYWHERE so I couldn't dig it back out some time when I was feeling lonely and unattractive.

I didn't block him, because he hadn't been responding the last time I tried talking to him, and because I made a promise once to always be there for him if he needed me. He may have no sense of honor and he may never keep his word, but I'm not that person. If I PROMISE (rather than just saying I will) I fucking stick to it. I have too many broken promises and cracks in my heart from them to do otherwise.

So I'm sitting here one day chilling, working on some research, and I see the whatsapp notification on my bar. I assume it's this company that always sends me promos or a back up running. Nope, it's him.

He beats around the bush for awhile before making it clear he was looking for sex. And I said no, that he should remember my stance on casual meaningless sex. He suggested an ongoing thing getting to know each other. When I asked why he reached out to me when he could find someone easily to cheat on his gf with he gave me some bullshit. Then said how he didn't want to get back together, it'd take a lot of long conversations before we got there and I straight up laughed. For a solid 3 minutes straight. Then went why would I want to repeat the worst mistake I ever made. Not that he meant it -- those conversations would never happen unless he needed me to feel guilty about something and he was never going to want a relationship with me. It was the equivalent of the married man leaving hints he'd leave his wife for you if things worked out. I listed all the shit he pulled and he got mad, how it reminded him of how I'd berate him and never let go of anything (a, he kept doing the sane shit and b, funny how that's the same thing he said about all his exes to me way back when) and he'd just been thinking with his dick again and should find someone easier and thanks for the reminder. So I responded even his dick should have known better than to try to hook up with me after making his disdain for me clear, abd that he absolutely should find someone else bc not only did my mind not want him but I was bone dry at the idea of him ever touching me again.

Then I think he deleted whatsapp despite needing to talk to people in Europe, because his pic and stuff went but it didn't tell me I was blocked which it usually does, I think. Fucking coward.

So we'll see how long this sticks, as it's fine for him to ignore me but he can't stand when I don't want him. Hopefully forever.

Then I get a message yesterday. A guy I went out with 3 times in January or something. Guy wanted me to accept scraps of time when his wife thought he was with friends bc she wanted a don't ask don't tell. Even I had more self respect than that. Oh and he wanted a lifestyle partner, not a life partner. Not bc he loves his wife but bc he likes his life the way it is and if he could squeeze in some kink on his terms only, so much the better. I shot that shit down and called him out for being completely manipulative and selfish, qualities he thought he'd left behind and no, still the same guy he was when some other poor woman had to call him on it and I said so. I'm not shy.

He acknowledged I'd been right, apologized, asked to be friends first, and to unblock him on fet. I said I'd agree to friends, and he proceed to pull all kinds of manipulative crap in the course of one conversation -- still saying he wanted a lifestyle partner to which I asked why I'd want that now when I already turned down that same offer from the same guy months ago. I called him out on his refusal to compromise or adjust anything in his life, because I'm worth more than his leftover crumbs. He said how not many guys would drive out to the city I'm moving to and again I laughed -- does he think that a college town is devoid of men? No, most guys from the burbs probably wouldn't drive out there which is why I'm not dating at the moment and will find one out there if I want one. Fuck, with as young as I look I could probably have my pick of frat guys. I'm like that was manipulative implying I should settle for my last chance, and it wasn't subtle or accurate. Do better if you want to con me.

I'm so not interested in men. They continually disappoint me, with one exception who sadly lives too far away for more than occasional sexting and being an exceptional friend.

The ghost can start passing me right on. I can't think of a man I've dated that I feel the urge to test drive again. Thanks but I finally figured out that chasing my mistakes won't undo them and the time I spent is a sunk cost, and trying to recoup sunk costs has never ended well for anyone.

[demonicvibe]

I have realized something. We, readers have the best pain tolerance, control of our emotions and ability to judge a person.

First ,the best pain tolerance bc when we read we travel to another worlds,start loving it, basing our whole existence on them and then we realize how we won't be ever able to live laugh love there. Besides that,we also attach emotionally to a character,be in pain bc they're most likely traumatized and had/have a hard life,and then fall in love with them. Then we realize the torture we have bought upon us bc they are our comfort character,the person we seek comfort from,who we want to help with our own trauma,and we'll never be able to have them,be in their presence,have meaningless conversations with them. In many scenarios ,readers fall in love with multiple characters. And we suffer through it all ,find happiness in fanarts,fanfics and rereading the books but it'll never be the same as what we could have,but we don't give up ,we simply learn how to deal with the pain and that's why we have the best pain tolerance.

We have the best control of our emotions simply by organizing each new emotions we get while reading. Bc while a scene may make us happy,sad,angry or nostalgic we learn how to not let it consume us. And we get through that emotion and continue the book/series and then start a new book where there's going to be other feelings but we do not let that stop us.

As for judging a person,i think we have this talent bc when we read, we meet new characters and there are two possibilities. First,we get a vibe about them and then are proven right or we judge them wrong and by this , learn to wait before making a final decision,learn to look at details that we missed. We are practically figuring out how that person is, simply by looking closer. It gives us an advantage for our instinct that others do not realize. And honestly they are fools for underestimating us and calling us 'nerds'and so on.

So yeah,readers have advantages,may use them for their own good,but we also know how to control our emotions very good,how to not let our pain interfere with our life and have an instinct damn good about people we interact with.

[plasticfangtastic]

Carnivorous Lamb Ch. 2

A homelander x M! OC fanfic

A/N: forgot to included the links for the original fic in the 1st chapter so here ya go :) hope y'all like this--

tags: R18, NTR-ish, dubcon, age gap (Homelander is in his mid 20’s, OC’s in his 40s) older man, DILF, priest kink, moral degradation, slow burn.

Chapter Two

Winter

The gardens had looked less lush, local fauna had feasted on the leafy greens and rockmelons, if there had ever been any brussel sprouts they'd been reduced to fibrous stumps. Venturing into the chapel he found the only familiar face he knew in town.

The town was small and close just your typical cornbread American town, where football is king and farmland is all the eye can see, a town so plain it made the man wiping the floor look out of place.

He lifted his chin surprised to spot the young man once more, putting his mop aside to welcome him.

“It's nice to see you again. I saw you on the telly… you saved all those people from that capsized ferry…” He said with a warm smile.

“I didn’t save all of them…” he said bitterly.

He turned around and headed to a small bucket holding cleaning supplies, taking a tube of paper towels and glass cleaner into his hands.

“Why don’t you give this old man a hand while we talk?” He walked slowly towards him– You’re too harsh on yourself, my son. That’s good… but it will wear you down… and we don’t want that, right?”

He had come to noticed his age didn't match his face, when he was able to stand in front of him that he could admire just how handsome the man was– squared jaw, a strong nose and brow and beautiful green eyes… his pale blonde hair falling just the right way around his temples… Homelander swallowed, taking the tube with a stiff grin.

It was the kind firmness in his voice that made him want to stick around, the man moped as Homelander wiped the windows to the best of his abilities, smudging dust more than cleaning he would come to realize, but the man didn’t mind. They both conversed letting him spit it all out, there was never any judgment, or chastisement, Amarello simply listened and spoke kindly with him, never saying upsetting things, agreeing with him or not truly disagreeing either.

It became a routine, to come-by whenever he needed guidance, whenever he wanted to be taught the scriptures, whenever he wanted to pretend he cared about anything in that old book because for once he had genuine company… the more he came the friendlier the strange man was, and it felt unbelievably good... how much he enjoyed having this to look forward to, as meaningless as it might be for some.

He was rude of speech, barely liked saying please, his sight was always miles away, he talked to him with ease in a way that nobody treated him before, he was a good host offering him fruit and coffee every visit if not at least a place to unwind.

Sometimes there was no burdens, advice or interpretations to discuss but Amarello still welcomed him in his humble home, Homelander began to wonder if this was what normal people experience.

It was so confined it made him uneasy at first, too familiar to a place from not that long ago, yet the more he spent his afternoons, mornings and evenings sitting watching the small tv or pretending to enjoy a drink on the dinner table instead of the gardens– it came to matter very little.

All that mattered was that for once in his life he had somebody talking to him so jovially, who had no expectations from him, nor intending to trick him, just the rewards and satisfaction that came from human interactions.

The man was abnormally kind, he thought. Always throwing an odd joke here and there, laughing at Homelander dirty humor something that amused the Supe greatly.

They would laugh at each other's observations, leaning against the other as they shared cold peach ice tea and gossiped about the town folks' drama and superhero BTS.

Both enjoying each other's company– much to John’s surprise.

So why did it all have to change…? 

With the passage of time and as the garden was blanketed in inches of snow… here he was staring at him… watching him set up the nativity set as he lazily dug for Christmas ornaments to decorate the church.

Watching him closely as the man grumbled.

“John. I can’t find the donkey. Is it in your box?”

Homelander looked at his box and unsurprisingly he found nothing in the beaten up box.

“Could you go to my room? It might be in the closet… I must’ve put it with my personal ornaments… it should be in a green box, hopefully.”

The man continued to grumble frustrated at the incomplete nativity, Homelander listened heading towards the small room, he had grown so accustomed to the room, he knew of every nook– it had looked so frightening but now it was trully cozy, pressing walls just the right size, the uneasy familiarity of having everything in a single room no longer unnerving, for it smell like him and not like chlorine.

The room was plain, all the pieces second hand and aged, his closet was bare mostly just a dozen of the same shirt in various shades of black and dark grays, folded jeans and dress pants with the only colors coming from his collection of sweaters and jackets and even that was minimalist, he looked around spotting two boxes tucked in the narrow closet.

His hand took the first one, a smaller box that would have never fit the ceramic donkey– he was just curious, he told himself.

Just wanting to know more about him.

More than the stories they shared, more than the rehearsed storylines he delivered, he wanted to discover everything that made him tick, just to know if it was alright to keep him around-- nobody in the tower knew of his escapades all assuming he was still doing his patrols, and not flying to the middle of nowhere to spend a couple hours with a stranger they might not approve, for he didn’t fit their image at all.

They didn’t need to know how or where Homelander had learned to pray better, how much he had learned of the good book… how much he didn’t believe in any of it.

But above all he was afraid of getting too close, so close he might slip and break the illusion– for Amarello believed that he was proof that god was real, that all his sacrifice would amount to something in the afterlife, that there was this genuine invisible force watching over all that was living and not that he was proof of the unethical scientific progress.

But he wanted to keep him, he wanted to be consoled by the older man who treated him with more kindness and care than any of the olderlies or Voguelbaum ever did, whom refused to see him without an appointment, appointments that grew further and further apart in availability… he had hoped that now that he was out, the man would let him be around, that he had only cut the umbilical cord to help him grow out of tough love-- not to dispose of him to stare at the shiny new thing that his son had made.

As he looked at the frozen dinners in the Priest freezer with box in tow, he wondered if he also would spend the holidays alone, he had offered to welcome him for thanksgiving for the church organized a small backyard feast for the elderly who had no family in town anymore, those who wanted to come and the loners… but he had said no on the promise that Voguelbaum had considered inviting him… delivering the bad news the day before, for his wife didn’t feel comfortable with him around– a lie he could smell.

He signed feeling a sting in his eyes, thinking of how nice it would’ve been to spend Thanksgiving eating dried turkey and canned cranberry goop with him, instead of watching a movie in his penthouse alone.

His hand glides gingerly atop the lid, taking the top off.

That tear dried quickly.

Pretty men stared back at him.

Yellowed magazines of handsome hunks, half naked men in their hairy glory, the box held a nearly emptied small bottle of lube and a toy.

His mouth dried as he took the small dildo out the box, it was flesh coloured and veiny, smaller than his own– modest he dared think. He gave it a squeeze to make sure it was real and not some crazy hallucination, the smell of dish soap flooded his flared nostrils as his cheeks grew hotter.

He stood frozen like a deer, his mouth so dry he wish he could have eaten the snow to quench his puffy tongue.

“John…?”

The man stood by the entrance, his hand firm of the silver pummel, pale and clammy, staring at the young supe holding something sick in his hand.

Homelander tried to brush it off with an awkward smile, force his shoulders to unwind, to make himself relaxed but the flush on his cheeks painted his whole body.

He ran after him, ripping the box and the toy off his hand, as if he was a stove and the box a child’s hand. He wanted nothing but to scream or cry or run, but he was there unable to breathe, clutching on the shoebox.

“Leave… please… just leave…” his voice was so light even he barely picked it up as he whistled his sentence.

Homelander didn’t want to listen, to pretend he never found the box, to just laugh it off but as Amarello looked up with sunken eyes ready to bawl, unable to stare at him for long– he did.

He took a step back.

And he was gone.

Amarello stayed in his kitchenette, hovering on the table while staring at his curse.

Wishing he had been strong enough to get rid of it, wishing he could go back in time and get the box himself, or hide it better at least. 

Wishing Homelander hadn’t seen it at all…

He was so pretty, he wanted to stare at the little lamb for longer, he liked the sound of his voice, the softness of his hand and the color of his hair, he liked how touchy the boy became-- always wanting to put his hand on his shoulders or his back, how much he liked it when he reciprocated. At first he brushed it to growing up without his parents and the deprivation that came from that experience, for the yearning of an adult figure in his life, a formed belief based solely on the way his eyes looked when he spoke of a man named Voguelbaum, and the way his voice wavered when he spoke of a Madelyn… Now he just felt like that’s something he needed but dare not say loudly... and Amarello had liked it too much... he liked being touched by him and feeling his warmth.

He seemed lonely too, just as much as he did… and perhaps that's why he indulged the boy… he gave him his company and he got to gawk at the pretty thing that made him, at this present from the Lord.

He would’ve never touched him past a stroke of his neck, he would have never tricked him, he would’ve never done anything to him, so why did he had to find out, he looked up wondering if even indulging the thought was worthy of punishment, that he had his fun, that he was gonna lose control and lead him astray, perhaps.

Amarello found himself sinking in his couch, letting the sounds of the television fill the gaps that Homelander’s presence would have, trying not to think of the wind picking up outside or the cold permeating in the room. 

He jolted awake as his voice came from the box, an advert for soda with his face on it. He watched the short 30 second clip looking at nothing but those thin lips.

[queenviserra]

Ooh, deep and wild, hungry sea (update)

Chapter 8: The Power of Prophecy (part 2)

Summary: Loves, dragon dreams and prophesies weave a web around Rhaenys.

Previw: The seventh day of the week was the day of the Stranger, Septa Lyra often said to her and Rhaenys always bit her lip not to laugh. In her mind, the omens were meaningless, nothing but their stars.

"I'll never let you out of my sight, my love. The conversation may still be in the middle, but it must be over today, Rhaenys."

"Corlys," Rhaenys breathed, stretching her legs to the saddle stirrups. "I want that, too, but they won't trust us. This is not the right time."

"Unless I speak to him now, the trust will be lost forever. Ι must ask for your hand because he already suspects us. I can't walk away from this. And honestly, the omens are ours."

Lilac eyes, as big as acorns, gazed at his face in disbelief.

"Honestly, I respect what you're saying. I understand that the omens are a big part of your life, but I have no desire to believe in anything but our stars. However, we must be careful now."

"We should go then." The Sea Snake groaned with frustration.

"We've been off the team for quite some time, and the others won't like it. And I don't even want to think about what happens when your uncle comes back."

"Your judgment of Prince Baelon is too harsh. He's not so strict, not exactly. He loves me like his own child, but look on the bright side of things. You have no need to ask his blessing for our wedding."

Her laughter mingled with a loud sound among the trees that were starting at the edge of the clearing where they had stopped, and Rhaenys naturally brought her hand to the bow and quiver she had on her back while Corlys on the spear he was holding.

"Rhaenys!" His voice choked in his throat as the beast appeared beneath the trees in all its splendor.

It was a huge white hart, much bigger than most of the brown stag they had met or hunted up to now.

He is indeed the king of this land. Rhaenys thought, looking at the antlers on top of his head, the eyes of the beast looked at her own eyes. He's got a crown, like my darling girl.

Read more here.

[lovergirlp]

The Triangle Chronicles

Spin of The Night: Space Age Pimpin’ - Eightball & MJG

11:23 p.m. 12/16

I don’t know why I still even give this nigga a chance. The nigga I’m referring to is NOT my child’s father, not one of those storytime’s ladies, ha! Remember Max, well yeah, it's him. I do feel a much deeper understanding with this current situationship, what started as a meaningless rebound transformed into a transformative experience for me, I am realizing the true capacities of my mind & body physically & emotionally, only I don’t know exactly what the fuck it is i’m experiencing but I’m starting to think what I thought was something that could’ve been “it”, is just another waste of time. Silly me, right? I mean even the things that bother me with this man, don’t make me stray. Tell me ladies, is that the definition of “naive” ? Either way, it feels good, …shit, really it feels amazing! Selfishly, I’m not tryna lose that, the man says he listens to my favorite song when he thinks of me, how true that statement is now, who knows LOL! But damn it sure feels amazing. Maybe the problem is how good it feels, and that after that feeling wears off, all that’s left is the space of emptiness where that feeling once was. 

⤁⤀⤀

“I thought I was ready for you, turn’s out I wasn’t even handling myself the right way.”

⤁⤀⤀

I know allll the freaks want to hear about it… you know what I’m talking about, the nasty things I do & to be honest I’m not ashamed, I’m a consenting woman, but how deep are we going Ladies? Darius & Nina or Savannah & Kenneth? Anyways, let's talk about it. Sex with this man is something that currently has me in a chokehold 😖 but it’s not just a “crash-and-go scenario, Max takes his time, everything is about my pleasure, at his pace and still I’m always in full control.

It’s masterful.

I met this man about 2 months after my breakup from my child’s father & initially, we had a pretty decent friendship, just good conversation & laughs, something I am positive neither of us were taking seriously… then we decided on a day to meet each other and share these same conversations etc.. in person, neutral decision. Now before I get into this next part Ladies & whatever Gentlemen who have found themselves here, DISCLAIMER: I Am NOT A Hoe!!!

Buttttttt! I did indeed give up a pinch of pussy 😭 but what can I say, I’m a sucker for a great smile, especially one that’s looking up at you from the place down below. I do things I said to my savior I would never, freaky, nasty, shit that runs through your mind during your workweek, I wait up until the late hours of the night for these erotic moments & I return to my bed in the early hours of the morning. Satisfaction is a minimum of what I feel. My dilemma with Max however, is that every night ends with a conversation, each one more profound than the last. We talk about life, his life mostly, but I don’t mind. I usually fall into the category of listener. Savior. Whatever works for whatever situation I find myself in. Tell me Ladies, am I a victim? Or am I just enjoying the role? I’m yearning for a savant who is rehearsed in the art of mind-reading, independence, communication, love-making, sweet gestures, and hard work. I’m trying to stop settling for just a piece of the pie. I wonder how many of yall can guess my zodiac sign hmm… It's been two days without him & I can’t lie although I’m not feigning for sex, it’s just comfortable, I’ve gotten use to the way it feels, and living in that moment of intensity & letting it wash off with that early morning shower.. It’s our world & our dirt. Just our secret. As fucked up as it sounds, I like it that way. 

⤁⤀⤀

Damn, he’s calling right now, I’ve got to go Ladies!

Best Regards,

LovergurlP❣️