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beskarandblasters · 6 hours

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Stonecatcher

Chapter Three: Let Me Be Your Stonecatcher Please

Din Djarin x OFC Athalia (Second Person POV)

Artwork: The Lovers by René Magritte Gif: @cherubispunk Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Series summary: An up-and-coming bounty hunter and a promising arms dealer cross paths on Dantooine. What starts as a business relationship quickly becomes more. How long can you bury your emotions and be a stonecatcher for someone else before you finally snap?

Series warnings: pre season one of The Mandalorian, instant smut but slow burn romantically, Athalia is able-bodied but other than that has no physical description, angst

Chapter summary: While on a supply run to Coruscant, you run into Mando.

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter warnings: anxiety, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, creampie

You’re on your way to Coruscant for a supply run, the first one you’ve ever had to do. This opportunity sort of fell into your lap. One of your new customers, Clint, was buying a blaster from you when he told you he knew a guy in Dantoo Town who was going to Coruscant. The contact in question, Sid, was looking for others to join the trip so long as they chip in on fuel. That agreement seemed fair to you so you said yes.

You’re leaning against the window of a ship, cheek pressed up to the cool glass, and staring out into the vastness of space. You’ve never left Dantooine, much less ventured out of Casia more than a handful of times, and yet you’re handling space travel better than you anticipated. The chatter among the passengers turns into white noise as you close your eyes, imagining what Coruscant is like. It’ll be weird to be around so many people, so many speeders, and so little nature for once.

Once you get to Coruscant, you’ll head to the lower levels, a place Sulee warned you about. You’re not sure how she knows so much about them considering that you’re almost certain she’s also never left Dantooine. Yet she has mysterious knowledge and wisdom that you definitely took into consideration for your journey.

Mind your business.

Don’t make eye contact with strangers.

Keep your head low.

Don’t let anyone walk all over you.

You’re nervous but also excited. You’re excited to see a new place and for this wonderful business opportunity.

But you can only think about your future endeavors for so long until your mind eventually wanders…

Mando.

It’s been another few weeks since you’ve seen him. You wonder what he’s doing. Probably off chasing another bounty.

You didn’t expect to see him after the first time you crossed paths. And yet you did. That has to mean something. It’s unfortunately all you’ve been able to think about. You told Sheva about the event that led you to miss the party at the cantina. But you’ve neglected to tell Sulee, assuming that in her old-fashioned ways, she’ll tell you that casual sex is a bad idea. Even though you think it’s already growing deeper, that a meaningful connection is already being forged. But all this begs the question;

When will you see him again?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

Sid lands the ship in a docking yard while you stare out the window. Neon lights flash in your face and heavy raindrops pelt the windows. He reminds everyone that the ship will be leaving by mid-morning the next day, before disembarking. You’re doing this supply run alone. So you’ll have to meet the supplier, pay them, and carry everything back to the ship on multiple trips.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Sid asks as you head down to the lower levels. He must be going there, too.

You look over at him, watching as he shivers in the rain and noticing how the wet strands of hair stick to his forehead. He’s a human male, a couple of inches taller than you, with dark skin and warm eyes. His hair sits at his shoulders and goosebumps prick his skin where it’s exposed. You’ve only met him once before coming here but so far he’s proven to be a valuable contact and also a good friend.

“I do.”

“Do you need me to show you where to go? You know the password?”

“You did enough by getting me here. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll hang around the area if you need me. Chances are I’ll be in a cantina.”

“Sounds good,” you chuckle, bidding him goodbye before you head to the meet-up spot.

You’ve heard rumors of a sort of flea market for arms in the lower levels. Sid seemed to validate that it does indeed exist. He said it’s on Centurion Street, inside of a clinic. You have to approach the front desk and say the phrase, “I need a central processor for my Protocol Droid.”

You’re not nervous. You’ve got Sulee’s advice repeating in the back of your mind and a blaster attached to your belt. If you want to break into this industry, you need to know how to navigate it and how to interact with the clientele, plus all of the other shifty characters that come with territory.

You wander the streets before locating the correct street. It’s slightly less busy on Centurion Street but still just as shady. Your hand hovers above your blaster and you pray to the Maker you won’t need it. Soon you find the clinic and it definitely looks fake. You head inside and get a brief refuge from the rain. You’re the only one in the lobby and the overhead fluorescent light is somehow worse than the neon sign. Everything is absurdly clean, a harsh contrast to the neighborhood the clinic is in. You approach the front desk where the receptionist is sitting and tell her the code, half expecting her to laugh in your face. She gives you a knowing look and gets up to let you in. You follow her behind the desk and into an open doorway. And it’s a little underwhelming. For some reason, you were picturing a large secret market place but it’s just a guy in a back room with an absurd amount of weapons.

“Who sent you?” the man asks.

“Sid Clemon.”

“He didn’t come with you?”

“Nah, he decided to hit up a cantina.”

“Typical. Tell him don’t be a stranger,” he says before turning around to comb through his stock.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Anything and everything.”

You buy a decent chunk of his stock, mainly different types of blasters and a few thermal detonators. It takes you a couple of trips to get it all back to Sid’s ship. The man who sold them to you (whose name you didn’t get) didn’t offer to help you but you didn’t expect him to either. He did help you load all the product into large gray bags, telling you “Can’t be out there on the street with all of this out in the open. Can’t be showing your cards to just anyone.”

After the last trip, you head back down to the street, deciding to look for Sid in random cantinas and find out what to do next until you leave. Are you expected to sleep on the ship in the docking yard? Or are you supposed to find a random motel to stay at?

The rain has let up but everything is still rather wet, including your clothes. And now that the rain has gone away the street is even more crowded. You scan your surroundings, looking for a sign for a cantina. But you find something else instead.

There he is, standing in the busy street. Not Sid– Mando. Although you can’t see his face, you can tell by his body language that he’s overwhelmed. His helmet swivels in all directions, trying to keep an eye on every person around him. But it’s hard when the streets are packed with people shoulder-to-shoulder.

He still hasn’t noticed you yet. Instead of bursting through the crowd to head towards him, you wait. You wait for him to notice you. And when he does you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach. For some reason, it excites you to see him at a place other than Dantooine.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, placing a hand on the small of your back and guiding you off to the side.

“Supply run.”

“It’s not safe here.”

“I can hold my own, you know,” you say, tapping the blaster attached to your belt.

“Do you… need help?”

‘What do you mean?”

“Carrying stuff back to your ship.”

“Oh! I already finished, but thanks for the offer.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Killing time. We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“Who are you here with?”

“Just some guys from Dantoo Town.”

“Are they going to miss you for a few hours?”

“No… Why?”

He points to something behind your head so you turn to follow his gaze. Across the street is a neon sign for a motel that looks abysmal at best. Is he suggesting that you get a room together?

“Are you asking me to”

“Yes,” he says abruptly, replacing the hand on the small of your back and walking you towards the motel.

“Are we splitting it?” you ask.

“I’ll take care of it.”

He’s taking you to a motel. He’s paying for it. Stay calm. Stay calm.

It all happens so fast. He books a room and pays for it with a hefty handful of credits, leading you down the hallway. Once you’re in the room, he lets go of you, collapsing onto the bed.

“Are you… alright?” you ask, walking over to the side of the bed as the door closes behind you.

“I’m fine. I just don’t like this planet,” he says softly.

“Why?”

“Too many people.”

“Do they make you anxious?”

“...No.”

“It’s normal to get anxious, Mando.”

“Not for me.”

Poor guy. From what you’ve seen of him so far he doesn’t seem to be in touch with his emotions, which is why he’s rejecting his own anxiety.

“Can I help?”

“How?”

“You’ll see,” you say, moving to the foot of the bed.

The bulge in his flight suit catches your eye. He needs to be taken care of. You sink to the floor and motion for him to inch closer to you. He obliges, boots planted on the floor on either side of you. You palm his cock, hearing him groan while you touch him so delicately.

“You need to relax,” you tell him softly, increasing the pressure of your hand, “You’re so tense… Have you ever had anyone take care of you before?”

“...Not like this,” he says, poking up his helmet and looking at you.

“Lie back down,” you say gently, placing a hand on his breastplate and coaxing him to lie on his back again.

You remove his cock from his flight suit, watching it spring free from the confines of the fabric. You wrap your hand around the base, watching the pre-cum bead up at the tip of his cock before spilling over and running down his shaft. As you stroke him you watch the stress and exhaustion leave his body. He practically melts into the bed and it makes you feel good that you are the person to take care of him like this. Surely, he’s gotten head before, but probably not by someone who cares about him like this. You’re just assuming but you gather he’s not one for long-term relationships. It makes sense given his line of work but maybe he’s changing his ways. Why else would he cross the galaxy for you? He could’ve purchased that blaster anywhere. Maybe he’s developing feelings for you, too. Maybe he’s just not showing it.

You enclose your lips around the head of his cock while your hand continues to stroke him. Your other hand cups his balls, eliciting a deep moan from him.

“Feeling good?” you ask, pulling your mouth away for a moment.

“Mhm,” he moans, voice all strained and dripping with arousal.

You return your mouth to his cock and suck in your cheeks, watching as his hands grip the sheets at his sides. Your tongue slips in between the head of his cock and his foreskin, swirling around the sensitive tip. Saliva seeps out of your mouth and coats his shaft, making everything that much more effortless.

He melts into the bed as you bring him closer to the edge. But you’re not done with him just yet. You rise from the floor much to his dismay until he realizes what you’re doing. You peel off your wet clothes, nipples perking up in the cool air of the motel room. Goosebumps prick your skin and a shiver runs down your spine. He’s so attractive lying there on the bed, broad and spread out with his cock dripping in pre-cum. For once you’ll get to be face-to-face (well really face-to-helmet) when you fuck. The arousal drips down your legs as you get onto the bed, straddling him with your entrance grazing the head of his cock.

He doesn’t protest you straddling him. He embraces it instead, hands gravitating to your waist. You lower yourself onto his cock, slowly taking all of his length. He groans, reveling in the feeling of your warmth encapsulating his cock.

“Kriff, you feel good,” he says, squeezing your waist.

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling his cock sink into you deeper. You rest your hands on his breastplate, staring directly into the visor of his helmet. You lean forward, bringing your face closer to the black T shape.

“You’re so big, Mando,” you moan, voice getting high pitched on the last word as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

“Mmm, you take it so well, ruusaan,” he says, voice sultry and silky smooth.

Ruusaan. What does that mean?

You don’t have time to think about it as he jerks his hips up into you. You’re getting closer and closer to coming, and tingling sensations run throughout your body. Your fingers grip the edge of his breastplate, clinging for purchase as you rock your hips back and forth even faster. He’s getting closer, too, strained moans come out from underneath the helmet.

Your orgasm erupts from your core and your sounds of pleasure fill the small motel room. His orgasm is triggered by the sensation of yours, spilling over the edge thanks to your cunt clenching his cock. He guides the movement of your hips as you both cum, feeling you squirm and writhe while you ride out your high.

Once you’re done coming you pull yourself off of him, collapsing onto the bed beside him. You catch a glance of your wet clothes on the floor and get up to set them on the heater, wondering what’s next for you two. Normally, he leaves.

This time he doesn’t. Instead, his chest heaves up and down. You just want to take care of him again.

“Mando?” you ask, turning to face the bed. He doesn’t sit up. He remains where he is, his chest rising and falling as he tries to control his breath.

You glance at the chair at the desk across the room and walk over to it, pulling it out for him before reaching for his hand.

“Come sit.”

Reluctantly, he gets up from the bed and sits on the chair. His hands grip the armrests for dear life as if this is his way of releasing the stress. You stand behind the chair and ghost your hands over his shoulder pauldrons.

“Can I take these off?” you ask.

“Why?”

“To massage your shoulders?”

“Oh… Go ahead,” he says stiffly.

You remove each pauldron and place them on the desk, bringing your hands to his sore muscles. He’s as stiff as a board as you touch him and you have to gently remind him to relax.

“Relax,” you whisper beside his helmet.

You rub his shoulders like you’re absorbing his stress and anxiety. He slumps into the chair, helmet thrown back. You imagine his eyes are closed underneath.

Is this what peace looks like?

He falls asleep on the chair. You let him. It seems like he really needed the rest. Your clothes dry in the meantime and you get stressed again. It’s the middle of the night and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do until it’s time to go. Maybe you’ll sleep in the bed? And secretly hope he’ll wake up and join you.

That’s a reality you’ll only see in your dreams, though.

When you wake up you’re greeted by darkness. He must’ve turned the lights off. You feel around for him in the bed but he’s not there. Perhaps he’s still sleeping in the chair? Maybe he didn’t want to encroach on your space in the bed.

You reach for the lamp on the nightstand which illuminates an empty room. You’re alone. Sadness builds in your gut. He just… left you.

But not without a word. There’s a note on the nightstand. It reads;

Thanks for the massage. Catch you back in Casia.

At least he left a note.

You do one final look over of the room before leaving, grabbing his note and putting it in your bag. You set out into the early morning and wonder where Mando is now. You’re one of the first people to arrive back at Sid’s ship, waiting around in the stillness of a quiet Coruscant for once, before the planet wakes up. But eventually, you’re joined by the others.

“Jeez Athalia, did you stay up all night?” Sid asks, laughing at your disheveled state.

“Something like that,” you sigh.

“You could’ve stayed in the ship,” he points out, lowering the exit ramp.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, slumping into the same passenger seat you sat in on the way here.

The other passengers talk amongst themselves as you lean against the cool window of the ship. Sid takes off and before you can fall asleep you think about what he called you.

Ruusaan.

You’ll have to ask him what that means next time you see him.

There is one thing that’s certain- you have a lot you need to tell Sheva about.

Once you’re settled back in Casia with all of your purchases put away, you head to the cantina to tell Sheva about your trip.

She places her hand over her heart when she sees you, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” you say, chuckling as you sit down at the bar.

“To be honest I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back.”

“What do you mean?!”

“Come on, the lower levels are sketchy.”

“Well, I survived.”

“Congrats.”

“Anyway… I have something I have to tell you.”

“Spill,” she says, leaning on the countertop.

“I saw Mando again.”

“On Coruscant?!”

“Mhm.”

“Like you just happened to run into him?”

“Yup. On the street.”

“And how did that go?”

“We spent the night at a motel together.”

“Wow, things seem like they’re getting serious.”

You bite your lip and grimace. If only that were true.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Well… he left in the middle of the night.”

“He what?!”

“I mean he left a note!”

“But still… Girl, that’s suspicious.”

“I don’t think so. I think he just has an issue with commitment.”

“Do you have the note?”

You reach for your bag and pull out the folded-up piece of paper from the motel, handing it to her as she looks at it with a raised eyebrow.

“ ‘Thanks for the massage. Catch you back in Casia’… Girl, what is this?”

“I found him on the street. He took me to a motel where we had sex and then I rubbed his shoulders after. He seemed stressed,” you shrug.

“Exactly! He’s using you.”

“What?? No, he’s not.”

“He buys your products, has sex, and then leaves every single time. Except this time your “product” was in the form of a massage.”

“…You don’t think he’s feeling anything for me?” you ask, starting to feel doubtful.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not saying he doesn’t… I’m just telling you to be careful.”

“Thanks…” you say, getting up from your stool, “I’ll be careful. I promise”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No!” you half-lie, “I’m just tired from the trip.”

“I get it… Just think about what I said, okay?”

“I will,” you tell her, smiling at her before turning and leaving. The evening rush is just starting to make its way to the cantina. You’re tired from the trip but you also need to think about what Sheva said.

You don’t think he’s using you but also… so what if he is? You can take it until he fully realizes his feelings.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Tag list: @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @freelancearsonist @djarins-cyare @survivingandenduring @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @chiyo13 @pedrostories @schnarfer @burntheedges

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#stonecatcher #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian smut

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cherry-leclerc · 20 days

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purely platonic ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst??, secret crushes, just two idiots who can't read the room of what we call 'feeeelingsss', they friendzone each other without knowing they're friendzoning each other BAHA

word count: 3.8k

It goes without saying that you and Lando are like two peas in a pod; always finding something to do. But when things suddenly shift after the summer break, it leaves you two to settle with the idea of one another with a rather doubtful mind.

req!...got this one a long time ago and the request was kind of confusing?? but i tried to make something out of it hahaha enjoyyy??

“Does this top make my boobs look big?”

Lando’s watercolor eyes quirk up, squint, then shakes his head full of curls. “You don’t have much to worry about.”

You muster a dirty glare before prancing over to the mirror, picking up a tube of gloss, laying it onto your plump lips. When you first started working at McLaren, you never truly thought you would end up here; on holidays with a witty British driver, but your friendship had blossomed rather quickly.

Don’t bother—they taste like absolute rubber.

Looking up to face the mysterious voice, you awkwardly choke, dainty hand dropping the last chocolate wafer.

Have you tried them?

Lando grins widely before reaching out to pick it up and popping it into his mouth. He winks.

Mmm. New recipe or something like that.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” you call out, pulling the baby voice he hates with a strong passion. Rolling his eyes, he kicks his feet against the bed frame, twisted like a pretzel. As long as I don’t get a ransom call, then yes. Go. You’re giddy with excitement; pick up your purse, spray some perfume—probably the entire bottle—and finally peck his cheek, to which he grimaces, instantly pulling away.

“Make sure to wake me up once you’re back.”

You do. Patting him, you eagerly bounce up and down against the fluffy mattress. “Brazil was a mistake.” His lashes flutter tiredly, skin slightly pink from rubbing his eyelids. Why? Folding your legs beneath your butt, you huff, tangled hair flying towards him. He can almost smell the sea salt that lingers onto your clothes; the scent of aperol spritz. It makes him wonder how many you’ve taken as he props up against his elbows, dark brows drawn together with attentiveness.

“First of all; I paid for the entire thing.” No, he gasps. You nod, pursing your lips tightly. “I’ve never seen someone so tan turn paper white in a matter of seconds. It was quite fascinating, actually. Sucks,” you ponder, shoulders dropping drastically. “He was stupidly gorgeous, too.”

I hate it when they do that. You laugh, eyes crinkling with true emotions for the first time that night. “He did dance like a pro though, oh God, I could barely keep up.” A lazy arm flies up to massage your neck, wincing as if you’ve just stubbed your toe against a brick wall. “I might have to see a chiro.” Tapping your finger against your chin, you close your eyes. “After all that, he invited me back to his place.”

The Brit sits up straight away; turns on the lamp that sits besides him. “Why are you here then?” he screeches. You curl a brow. The fuck is that supposed to mean? Lando sighs heavily and rubs his temples before flashing you with a pair of judgmental eyes. “We’re here to have fun, remember? Sex, sex, sex. That’s our priority.” The twenty-four year old relaxes against the comfy pillows. “We made a pact.”

“But I just—” You become visibly green, too grossed out with the idea. “He was handsome; a fucking hunk.” The blue eyed boy gags. “Probably had a massive dick.” You’re disgusting! A giggle erupts while you wiggle your way underneath the covers. “But I think I need to form an actual connection with someone in order to actually…yeah. A connection.”

It was about five months ago that you got dumped. Constant travels, not enough quality time. Too much work, not enough fucking. Far too lovey dovey eyes batted towards a certain brunette—that’s where you drew the line. You stood up for yourself; for Lando. It had taken you years to gain his trust and now that you had an unbreakable bond, you weren’t going to let the first insecure man make you feel like shit for it. But he didn’t like it; leaving you to cry on someone else’s shoulder.

For some factor, the Brit felt bad. Perhaps it was his fault—perhaps he did intervene—but he was pissed too. For the way your ex had treated you, for him even considering the twenty-four year old would hit on somebody’s girlfriend. The blue eyed boy knew the difference between flirting and a platonic relationship. Yeah. You were better off.

Brazil was great. Summer break was great. One night stands were great. At least he thought so.

Placing his hands over his broad chest, he releases a breath. “That’s actually pretty cute.” A sudden growl slides up your throat as you kick his shin. He scoots further away. “I only suggested because I thought it’d help…”

“Now you know.” A beat. “I can’t keep up with the Sex God.” Loopy eyes flicker over at him. “I’m talking about you, sex machine. Sex enthusiast. Can’t keep it in his pants— ”

He gruffs. “Understood.” He steals the blanket away as you squeal, hands flying out to tug it back towards your body. “Loud and clear.”

He had a plan to visit as many places as possible, and while that was fun for a while, you reasonably started to miss home. I’m tapping out, you would declare when you got to Bali, enjoying the view with an exhausted state. Last one. But he would somehow, always, convince you. There’d be too much to see; too much to experience. And you would stay.

It’s only up until Australia where you find yourself taking a break. Maybe it was because you were staying at Daniel’s, but you were grateful nonetheless. Days consisted of hikes, rodeos, undercooked steak, wine, and dirt biking. Quite fun—definitely better than being back home feeding your pet fish. Ms. Lockwood has it all taken care of, thank you very much.

“This is nice,” the Australian murmurs as he bites down on a slice of pizza. “I’m glad you guys made a pitstop.”

Wandering eyes roam the open field, dusty boots kicked up against his car. “Us too.”

Lando clicks his tongue knowingly, tilting his head at you as you hush him. For once in his life, he was glad to have someone around. Oftentimes, there’d be moments where people would assume you two were dating—possibly even married—but it was simply an unhinged friendship. Exactly what he was looking for. Thank God all of that is over now.

“How long have you two been together?” Heidi asks sweetly, leaning against her boyfriend. Mid-sip, you spit it all out, red wine painting Lando’s white tee. Bloody hell, he moans, drying his face with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” you gurgle. “We’re not…” When you gag, the Brit scoffs.

“She’s too immature. You think I would willingly sign up for that?” The couple share a skeptical glance, eyebrows raised to where he hands you a napkin. “Come on, mate, who do you take me for?”

As you both make your way over the house, Daniel and Heidi settle into a deep conversation. There was not a single doubt within them that you two weren’t meant for one another. It made perfect sense—but why were you both so blinded to the idea?

“Hmm,” the blond says. “Two months of traveling together? That just doesn’t happen.” Heidi spins on her heel, facing the Australian. “There’s obviously a connection between them.”

Men like you are the reason I left Finland. Men like you are the reason I left Finland. A sip of water. Men like you are the reason I left Finland—

“What are you even talking about?” Lando groans from his seat. Peeking over at him, you shrug, and continue mumbling. “For the love of God, must you keep repeating yourself? You’re making a simple twenty minute drive seem like four hours—stop it already.”

Coldly glaring at him, you pinch your face like a clam and point a narrow finger at him. “Men like you are the reason I left Finland.”

The Brit lets out a scream and jumps towards you, slapping a large hand over your mouth. You squirm for a good minute before biting down, forcing him to pull away with a sudden hiss. “Rascal.”

The view was breathtaking; the white snow, the green trees, the sunlight beaming from afar. His agenda continued and you kept tagging along. You’ve never visited, so everything was a pleasing journey. Staring out the foggy window of the van, you pout, pondering. “You’ve seriously never watched Confessions of a Shopaholic?”

“A Cock-A-Who?”

You laugh. “Not even close. I’m not doing this again.”

You’re sure you get frostbite by the end of the day, but the Northern Lights make up for it. After snapping a couple thousand pictures, you finally settle down on the snow next to him. “Hey.” A white puff exits his mouth, chapped lips.

“Hey.”

The silence prolongs, then you let out a sore cough, taking a sip of hot chocolate. You can’t help but roll your eyes when you barely get a sip, realizing he has finished it all while you were busy not looking. “Out of all the places we’ve been to, this has to be my favorite.” You direct your attention over to him. “Thank you for bringing me along. It means a lot.”

“Ah. Don’t mention it.”

You hum. “I never get bored of you.” You can hear his snowsuit scratch as he shifts to face you; wide eyes admiring the colorful lights. “I keep thinking I might—even just a little bit—but I don’t. It’s weird.”

He chuckles, relaxing. “I’m glad you haven’t. We’ve been traveling for a while now, so if that were the case, then I’d be worried.”

Pursing your lips, you let out a sheepish grin. “You’re like…the Suze to my Rebecca.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

Finally, you turn to him, taking in his puppy lost state. Specks of snowflakes cling onto his long lashes, the bridge of his nose is beet red, a hint of dried blood coats his overly frozen lips. Patting his shoulder, you let out a light whistle.

“Let’s just say; I never want to leave Finland.”

The season picks up once again, and so do the travels. But they’re not the same. Maybe it has to do with the fact that it’s not only you two anymore. Sure, you have your friends, but…it’s not the same. The thought alone is confusing, but you don’t let yourself think about it too long. Running after Oscar, you hand him a black binder. “What's this?”

“Not sure. Zak just wants you to read over it before the meeting.”

Frantically, he skims the white pages, flipping eagerly. You giggle. “I know it looks bad, but it’s not!” The Australian barely has a chance to protest before you skip away, shooting a quick thumbs up. “Take notes!”

Reaching the familiar dressing room, you find yourself gently knocking, foot tapping against the tiles. He swings open with a loopy grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” A beat. “Meeting in ten minutes; don’t be late.”

He nods. “Is there anything I should go over?”

You shake your head, extending a singular piece of paper towards the British driver. “As long as you go over these notes, then you’ll do just fine.” You take a step back. “Ten, Lando, ten.”

“Got it.”

You’re the last one entering the crowded conference room, teasing snickers spilling from McLaren colleagues. Zak claps loudly. “Great! Let’s get started.”

You’re bored halfway through, zoned out, doodling onto your notebook. You were aware of everything, so you suppose it didn’t really matter. Gray led slides coolly. A sharp sound rips you away from your daydreaming as you look up, eyes flickering between the three main men.

“I wasn’t aware there was any special treatment.” His accent is laced with humor, brown eyes drifting over to you. You curl a brow at Oscar.

Zak chuckles. “I wasn’t either.”

Once the meeting is adjourned, Lando strolls over to where you sprawl onto a row of chairs, blanked out. He swallows a chuckle down. “You alright?”

“What have I done?” You sit up, maniatic eyes dancing across his figure. “I’ve never done that before—not intentionally.”

The Brit closes an eye teasingly before releasing. “The notes?”

Leaping up, you march over to him. “Yes, the notes! Since when do I sum up things for your benefit? God, I didn’t even think about Oscar…”

“I’m sure you weren’t thinking straight. We all know you like to help both of us out.”

A queasy feeling flips inside of you as you tilt your head. He was right. You got caught up, made one set of bullet points, and coincidentally gave it to Lando. No further meaning.

“I need coffee.”

As soon as you bolted out of McLaren Hospitality, Lando made his way through the paddock. “Norris,” a deep voice calls out. Alex grins widely, jogging closer.

“Done for the day?”

Alex nods. “What about you?”

“I think so. Had my last meeting; I think I should be good.”

The Williams drivers shimmies with a low chuckle. “Why are you still here then?”

The Brit freezes. “I actually don’t know…” Huh, Alex hums.

“You’re looking for someone?”

He unfreezes, chest tightening. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, hey, watch out.”

“Daniel!” you shriek. He lets out a toothy smile, extending his arm out as a silent greeting, cup of coffee in hand. You rip it away, taking a large chug. “Thank you—gotta to go.”

“Wait.” He reaches for the hem of your shirt, stopping you from slipping away. “Are you okay? You look a bit…” He motions a crazy sign. You glare back at him.

“I need air, I need air,” you gasp, zigzagging past him. Running after you, he hauls you into the nearest restroom. You screech, panicking. “Air, Daniel, air.”

“What happened?”

Something in his voice tells you he knows. You don’t want him to know. How could anyone know what you don’t even know? No one can know.

“You’re right—I’m losing my mind.” You step out of his embrace. “Let me out before I kill you.”

Brown eyes stare back in amusement. “You can be honest with me.”

“I’ll scream, Daniel.”

“Be honest with yourself.”

“I’m a black belt. My limits are endless.”

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say it.”

You close your eyes, groan, and kick the wall. “Shit, I like Lando.”

Heavy pants, desperate huffs. Anticipating eyes, nervous fiddling with your hair. His lack of response makes it all worse.

Daniel clicks his tongue. “I knew it.”

“Want anything?” he asks, gazing up at the wall of foreign treats. Singapore knew what they were doing. Your voice catches, releases, then wave him off. Weird, he thinks to himself, but continues to pay for his own sweets. The way you prance around the small convenient store makes him smile, occasionally making sure you were still there.

“I won’t be going to the next race. Thought you should know.”

It obviously catches him off guard as he spins to face you with a neutral expression. He’s good at hiding things—feelings.

“I…um…” He coughs. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s my nana’s birthday.” A beat. “She only has so many left, dude.”

The Brit would love to relax and laugh at your dark humor, but one simple word makes him deflate, nodding along with a sheepish look. He hands you a bag of penguin gummies. “From me, to her.”

The colorful bag crunches against your touch, awkwardly beaming at it, then looking up into his soft stare. “She has diabetes, but thanks.”

He realizes just how much he misses you once you jump onto a plane back home. He had been kind enough to offer to drive you to the airport, and you had been rude enough to decline. A weak exchange of words ensued between you two before reluctantly coming to an agreement.

Here is fine!

Blue eyes wander the busy drop off zone; humming with concern.

Let me help you with your bags, then.

No! Drive safe, Lando. Oh—and make sure to take your vitamins!

The British driver wonders why he feels different; pacing the room back and forth. Vitamin C is important. He eyes his watch. That’s probably why—he forgot to take them. Or maybe it was his biotin.

“Mate! You have my charger!” The twenty-four year old gazes at his taking door and makes his way over. Daniel stands with loopy eyes, half shaved mustache. “Bon Iver died mid-For Emma, so you better hurry and give it to me.”

“I have it right here, chill.” The Australian invited himself in, brown orbs flickering carefully through the dark room. He chuckles.

“Can’t find your birth control?”

Lando cocks his head to the side, recognizing his mess that lies on the floor. The orange bottles make him stutter, briskly pushing the white charger towards his friend. “B6, I’m looking for my—” A nervous hand runs through his messy hair. “Got what you need? Great. Off you go.”

“Ah, ah—hold on a second; is that my girl, Isla Fisher?”

The Brit cackles, remembering about his open computer. “How do you know?”

Daniel plops down. “Confessions of a Shopaholic? Classic. Heidi loves it.”

The brunette hums, finding a spot next to the Aussie. “Who’s Suze?”

“Have you not been paying attention?”

“I’ve been looking for my calcium!”

The thirty-four year old pouts. “I thought it was your R2-D2?”

“Clever.”

A Tim Burton looking girl comes on-screen, perfect bangs hanging just above her brows. The redhead and black haired duo exchange a small phone back and forth, panic evident. “That’s Suze. She’s Becky’s best friend. They go through a bit of a rough patch, but they come back together, don’t worry.”

“Suze? Rebe…” He pales. “Friends?”

“You thought they were lesbos?”

Lando shakes his head, harshly. “What about Finland?”

“A fantasy land, sort of.” Daniel props up against his elbows. “It’s her getaway from all her debt. It’s real, but it’s not real.” The blue eyed boy’ shoulders droop furthermore as he watches the scene play out.

“Friends…”

Chomping down on a mysterious pill, Daniel shrugs. “Mhm. Just friends.”

It’s safe to say that you’re refreshed. You thought things through—you could never speak about your sudden realization. This probably happens all the time, all around the world; nothing to see here. Your feelings were there, but they wouldn’t be your downfall. Not when he mattered this much to you.

“Read over this. Pay close attention to three and seven—Zak is going to ask you about it.” Lando hums slowly, eyes tracing your beauty. You’re a shade darker due to your small vacation, if you can call it that, and that somehow tugs at his heart. If he pays close enough attention, then he could point out a few new freckles. “Any questions?”

He blinks. “Zero. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.”

Something has shifted inside of him; something…new? Every chance he gets, he would peek and admire the way you laugh with a couple of the engineers, with Zak. Then, he would have to pinch and remind himself that he was your friend; nothing more, nothing less.

“Any additional notes? Oscar? Lando?”

Raising your hand timidly, you beam. “If I could suggest one thing, maybe we can keep the floor the same? I know we spoke on how a drastic change can possibly lengthen our kph, but if we actually think about it, then we would be able to see that it’ll only worsen things. It’s perfect, really, where it’s at. What we should be focusing on instead are other areas. Find ways to lighten the car, mark our attention to the aerodynamics.” Red creeps carefully onto your cheeks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you shrug. “Just a…thought.”

Zak hums, crossing his arms in deep thought. “We could do that…we could definitely do that.” He grins. “Boys?”

“Anything to make us faster, count me in,” Oscar agrees, voice steady.

“We should change it.”

Everyone turns to face the twenty-four year old. Pens glide faster, keys click harder, and you stumble clumsily. “Sorry?”

Lando tsks. “I like what you were saying, but we need to change it in order to stand a chance against the Red Bulls. They’ve cracked the code; and we’re so close. We need to adapt.”

You burn up. “I’m sorry, but I disagree, Lando. Things should stay the same. Same is safe. Change is…” You lick your lips, biting down momentarily. “Not necessary. Not when things are already good where they’re at.”

The British driver hisses. Oscar jumps at the cold sound. “Safe is a pussy move. How will you ever know what could have happened? One thing can flip everything around.” His eyes soften. “A-and put us in front of the grid for good. Good, good.”

Caught in the flame, you grit your teeth together; who were you to have a say after all? Your attention circles the quiet room before nodding stiffly. “Alrighty then.”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

Lando frantically chases after you, shoes squeaking with every drastic turn. “I was just being honest!”

The sudden speed you turn back to face him with makes him flinch, forced to come to a halt. He can practically see the fumes exiting your body. “But did you have to say it in that tone?”

“What tone? I didn’t have a tone.”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” You continue your march. “Oh, hi! I’m Lando Norris, professional Formula One driver, who knows everything you don’t.”

“I do not sound like that.”

“You’re right. You sound worse.” A huff. “Listen, I’m not actually mad, but I do need time to myself, so can you please…” You motion him away and he scoffs. Are you being serious right now? “I am! Leave!”

He sort of replicates a zombie, the way he drags his feet back to hospitality. Was he really ready for any of this? He liked you, a lot, but things like these would eventually stir up in any relationship, and maybe he didn’t have the strength in him to fix things yet. But if you stayed friends, then…yeah. Things would stubbornly fix themselves.

You, on the other hand, have a sudden bounce in your step. A stride. This is what you needed. Suddenly, your stupid little crush wasn’t as important as you had imagined. Fights would bubble between you two if you ever dared cross the invisible line, and you weren’t the biggest fan in facing them. Friends. That’s all this was.

Daniel crosses Lando first, intrigued by his dead-like state. “What’s up with you now?”

The Brit blinks. “I’m no Luke, Danny.” He kicks a rock. “I’m fine, however, being a Suze.”

Son of a bitch, the Australian thinks as he watches his friends stroll away. He actually paid attention.

Placing his headphones back onto his head, he continues his walk down the paddock, confused. When you make your way with a bright smile, he, too, reciprocates. Your lips move fast, hand gestures flying theatrically, and he can’t hear a single thing. The Alpha Tauri driver snakes his hand to slip them off once again. “Having a g’day?”

“Best,” you beam. “Connection lost.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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gurugirl · 6 months

Text

Spiderman | fratboy!harry

Continuation of this one shot - but can be read as standalone.

Summary: You’re at the big Halloween frat costume party and get to flirting with someone dressed as Spiderman. The tall, masked man with a deep voice just so happens to know a private spot to reveal his true identity to you.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, slight mask kink, this is mostly just gratuitous smut

Tonight was your excuse to dress up like the supervillain Poison Ivy. A short green dress with patches of fabric leaves all over and a crown of ivy on your head. Mostly it was just something cute to wear to draw a little attention. Plus Poison Ivy is bisexual so you were hoping at least someone picked up the hint. All were welcome, so to speak.

When you got to the frat house you noted all the sexy and fun Halloween costumes. Lots of tit-bearing cats, a few she-devils, some baseball players in well-fitted jerseys, a Lego. The house was packed. The music was loud. Too many of your fellow university schoolmates had begun drinking early. You arrived late on purpose. Drunk wasn’t a cute look. At least you didn’t think it was. Not on you anyway. And you kind of hoped to get hit on and maybe get lucky. Tipsy sex could be fun. Drunk sex wasn’t memorable enough to be worth it.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” You looked over at a tall someone dressed in a Spiderman costume. The hood was covering his face so his identity was a mystery, though you thought you recognized the voice as someone you’d had a fun hookup with once.

You leaned your hip into the counter just as you’d finished pouring yourself a drink, “Is that so? I guess I wouldn’t know if I’d seen you around or not since I can’t exactly be sure who you are.”

His laugh had you grinning suddenly as he mimicked your stance, leaning his own hip into the counter facing you, though you couldn’t see his eyes under the spandex material.

“So, you’re telling me you can’t recognize me by my body?” He leaned his head down as if looking over himself before bringing his face back upward, “This costume hardly hides anything.”

You cocked your head, sipping your drink as you allowed your eyes to travel over the red and blue spandex. It clung tightly to his chest and hips, thighs… You didn’t miss the bulge either as you brought your eyes back up to the spot where you figured his eyes were under the mask, “Nope. Sorry. Should I recognize you by your body alone?”

You could tell he was smiling under the spandex, “You should. As I recall, you know my body rather intimately.”

Now you were certain it was the fun hookup you had a while back. You didn’t know him well. But you did know him to be quite popular. And attractive. And the time he went back to your dorm with you and your friend was quite memorable. But you decided to play coy a little bit. Just to get him going.

“Really? Hmm…” You feigned confusion as you slowly ate up his frame, inch by inch with your gaze. His heavy-looking bulge was a nice reminder of how sizable he was. You wouldn’t forget it. “Still doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t see any outstanding features here.” You waved your hand up and down gesturing at his frame.

He nodded and remained quiet. You were sure he was feeling you out. Trying to see if you were fucking with him or not. You were.

When he inched in toward you and placed his gloved hand over your forearm he leaned in and spoke quietly into your ear, “I’ll give you a hint. Would you like a hint, Y/n?”

You nodded as you felt his warmth. He was so close to your body as he spoke, “Had you bouncing on my cock, made you come, all while your friend watched us fuck.”

You swallowed. Yes. You remembered very clearly that night. It was the only time you’d ever done anything like it before. And now, he was clearly trying to get you in bed again. At least… that was the vibe you were getting. You looked down and realized his bulge was, well it was bulging. Was he getting turned on just thinking about it? You needed to have him again. Wouldn’t mind feeling that thick cock inside of you once more.

You sighed and turned to face his mask, “Hmm… maybe. I’m not positive, though. Might need to check a few things out to verify–“

Harry’s grip on your forearm tightened, “Can be arranged. Wanna go find a room so you can verify?”

You laughed as you looked around. You’d never been talked into something like this so fast in your life. Then again, Harry, you knew it was him, was quite convincing and he was good in bed from what you remember. You couldn’t feel bad for giving in so quickly.

Harry took your hand and you followed him upstairs, leaving your unfinished drink in the kitchen and long forgotten.

The good thing about the frat house was that it was massive and there were enough bedrooms that you were able to find a free room almost right away.

Harry locked the door behind himself and then suddenly he was pushing you backward toward the bed where you fell to your bottom the moment the back of your thighs hit the edge. You giggled as he put his spandex-covered hands on your thighs. Propping yourself up by your elbows you watched him take in your bare legs and then one by one, lift each upward to remove your heels. He was between your thighs and the erection he was sporting indicated he wasn’t wearing underwear. Or if he was he’d fully pushed his way up and out of the top band.

“M’gonna give you a little reminder. Take you down memory lane and have you sit on my face. Is that all right?” He climbed over you on the bed, hovering over your body and looking down at you. You really wished you could see his pretty eyes.

“Okay. But how are you gonna do anything with this on?” You plucked at the fabric covering his face.

You heard a breathy, amused laugh fall from his chest as he pushed himself off of you and laid down on his back, “You’ll see. Climb up.”

You adjusted yourself, straddling his torso, and then lifted upward, gently placing yourself over his face, not yet sitting all the way. You were still wearing panties and you were hovered over his mask so you weren’t sure what his plan was exactly.

“Lean forward a bit.” He spoke from under you.

Leaning forward, you put your hands on the headboard and he adjusted something underneath you and that’s when you realized he was lifting his mask to uncover his mouth and part of his nose before pushing your panties aside and grasping your thighs, pulling you down on his mouth. You laughed when you settled and looked at the Spiderman mask between your thighs. You couldn’t see much of his nose and his mouth was covered by your pussy but the whole thing felt ridiculous to you.

Ridiculous until he began mouthing at your pussy slowly, using his tongue through your crease and his hands gripped your ass, pushing you into him further.

“Oh!” You tightly grabbed onto the headboard again in a gasp.

His warm tongue slid up and down and his moans made you hot. You hadn’t quite been ready but with his mouth on your clit, you were quickly aroused and slowly wetting his face.

Kissing and sucking sounds below drew your eyes down to him. You could see his dark curls sticking out from the edges of his mask where he’d pulled it up, his pink lips were also memorable. How had you not reached out to him after that first night? He was good. And he was so fucking hot. But he was also really nice to you and to your friend.

You tilted your pelvis down and dragged your clit over his nose and moaned softly as he pushed his tongue into your entrance. The slow lathering of his tongue up and down your crease and his puckering lips felt just as good as you remembered.

He pushed at you and inhaled a sharp breath, “Starting to remember me now?” His shiny berry lips quirked up in a cocky smile as you panted and shook your head, “Nuh-uh. I’ve sat on lots of faces. Gonna have to give me something more if you really want me to remember you.”

His raspy laugh had his nostrils flaring and he pushed at you, causing you to move off his face, “Fine,” he breathed as he sat up, “Lie down. Looks like you need something a little extra.”

Your back hit the mattress as he sat back on his haunches and pulled at your panties, tearing them down your legs and pushing your dress up your thighs, exposing your cunt to him as he lowered his face over you, his shoulders bumping into the back of your thighs to hold you down.

“Y/n, you taste just like you did before. So soft and sweet,” he ran his spandex-covered finger through your crease and you gasped at the odd feeling of it. He laughed at your reaction, “You’re wet enough that this should still feel really good. Tell me if it’s irritating to your skin,” his mouth and nose, and ends of his hair were still exposed as he circled two fingers over your clit and had his face tilted toward you.

When he opened his mouth wide and lowered it over your clit you grasped onto his hood and sighed. It was so good. Just like before. His tongue and lips and the way he gently sucked you in made you quiver.

But it was the odd sensation of his fabric-covered fingers slipping through your wetness that kept you very much in the moment. You kept imagining that the shiny spandex would soon collect all your wetness and you’d be left dry and it would start to hurt but it was the opposite.

The smooth material became coated and the extra friction from the fabric felt yummy.

He slurped your clit and took a good long lick upward from your entrance to your clit and then held up two of his fingers so you could see, “Look. Just want you to see this before I start fucking you with them. Nice and slippery,” he scissored his fingers apart and you saw the strings of arousal stick together,” But tell me if you don’t like it.”

“Oh my god…” you moaned as you craned your neck up to watch him as he slowly plunged them inside of you.

You tightened your thighs, but Harry used his free hand to hold you apart and the grin on his face as he watched his gloved fingers slide in and out of you was lewd, “Hear that?” He increased the speed at which he was fingering you, your wetness being pushed in and out with his fingers was definitely audible, “Bet that feels so good, doesn’t it, Y/n?”

You nodded and moaned again, still trying to keep your neck tilted so you could watch.

When he wrapped his mouth around your clit once again, though, you cried out and your head fell back onto the mattress in surrender.

His fingers, his tongue, and his lips had you writhing and moaning pathetically, “Oh fuck…” you cried as he curled his fingers just right, and flattened his tongue over your clit, his face aimed toward you as if he were watching your reaction.

He continued fingering you as he lifted his face and planted a sweet kiss to your clit, “How’s it feel? Do you want to come, Y/n?”

You moaned and gasped as you nodded, “Yes, Harry…” and the moment you said his name you knew you were busted. Your eyes widened and Harry’s grin took over his face, you could see the beginnings of his dimples.

“Figured you’d remember me,” he kissed your clit again and spoke against your pussy, “Hang on, sweet girl. Gonna finish you off properly.”

And finish you off he did. Properly at that. He held you down with one shoulder and one hand as he fingered you with his other and sucked and dug into your clit. The noises were obscene. From the wetness you’d created, to the fast pace of his fingers pushing and curling into you, to his slurping and moaning…

“Come on baby,” he coaxed when he felt your thighs shaking and your moans turned into whimpers and cries.

His tongue flicked side to side quickly and then he dug in as if he was sucking the last bits of juice off a mango and the vibrations from his moans had you seeing stars. You gripped his head and shouted his name as you came in his mouth. You thought you heard a laugh come from him but you were so far gone in ecstasy that you couldn’t care. You knew you were being loud but it wasn’t every day that a man came around to give you head the way Harry was.

When you’d opened your eyes you noticed you pushed his mask up further with how you’d been hanging on, nearly his whole nose was exposed as he softly licked upward from your entrance to your clit. He removed his fingers and was cradling the underside of your thighs with both hands. Like a loving little gesture to help you come down.

Suddenly he was hovering over you and had his lips pressed to yours. Your first kiss of the night and it tasted like your pussy. But you liked the taste of pussy so it didn’t bother you.

You could feel Harry’s hard erection on your thigh as he licked into your mouth and cupped your face.

It felt so sweet and so desperate at the same time. You knew he needed to be taken care of too. He deserved to have the favor returned after the way he’d just handled you with such precision.

Pushing at his shoulders he gasped as he parted from your lips, “What do you need, Harry?” You asked him.

He moaned and rolled his hips down so you could really feel him, “You. Just you. Whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grinned and wrapped your finger around a chunk of his hair, “But what do you want? Want a blow job? Want to fuck me? Want my hands?”

Harry exhaled heavily and dropped his mouth open, “Can’t stop thinking about how good you felt on my cock. The way we fit together.”

You bucked your hips up and nodded, “I can’t stop thinking about it either. You felt so good. Stretched me out so nice.”

“Fuck.” Harry quickly moved off of you and stood at the edge of the bed before opening up the side drawer, “Need a condom.”

You rolled over and opened up the other side table drawer to rummage through it. Not finding anything other than pens and loose charger cables. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad about rummaging through a stranger’s things when you had Harry Styles about to fuck you.

Harry adjusted his cock as he quickly walked to the dresser on the other side of the room and looked through the top drawer and let out a groan of relief, “Fuck yes.”

Holding up the condom he placed it on the dresser and untied the top of his spandex suit. He was still wearing the mask, though it had been pushed upward and his hair was exposed at the ends, slightly more grown out than the last time you saw him, but he was too focused on his task to worry about how funny he looked with his mask half covering his face. The moment he untied the top he began to pull at the suit and peel it down his toned and tattooed torso. You sat up and watched him undress. He had no underwear on just as you suspected.

You had to laugh at the spectacle. Just like a woman wearing a cute tight body suit, men had the same issue with needing to remove the entire thing in order to use the bathroom, or in your case, fuck.

“Heey, don’t laugh. Beauty comes with a price.” He grinned as he kicked the body suit away and opened up the condom, slowly putting it over himself. He looked over at you and tilted his chin upward, “Get your dress off. Wanna see those pretty tits.”

You giggled and pulled at your stretchy dress, easily removing it by the time he made his way back to the bed. He climbed over you, his mask still covering his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you.

The way his mouth moved against yours and his hands found your breasts and your ribs and your tummy as he moaned and licked at your tongue gave you a surge of need. You lifted your hips toward his and slid your hands down his torso to grab his cock.

He pushed himself down into your hand and then reared back gently to slip his shaft through your labia, wetting the condom, “This is gonna be better than the first time. No performance anxiety with a third watching.” He grinned down at you as he moved back to take you in below him.

You laughed as he pulled at your thighs and lifted your legs over his, angling your hips upward so your bottom was positioned on the tops of his thighs, “Were you nervous last time with Heidi? It was your idea? And… can we take this off?” You gestured to his mask.

“Heidi? That was her name?” He responded as he pulled the mask off from over his eyes and tossed it behind himself. “Sorry, I barely remember. But… I wanted you to think I was cool. Plus she was kinda cute. But it was really all about you.”

You pushed yourself up to your elbows at this revelation, “Wait. You only invited her because you wanted me to think you were cool?”

He shrugged and smiled shyly, “Yeah. Knew you liked girls too. Figured it might make you like me if I was cool with that.”

You shook your head, “And then you just never reached out to me again after?”

He puffed out a soft laugh, “I don’t know. Felt like maybe you weren’t as into me. Didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

You took his hand and pushed your fingers between his, “Well, after this it looks like we’ve got some talking to do. I kinda thought you were too cool for me so that’s why you never bothered.”

The look on his face was surprised, “Me? Too cool? That’s not… no way. If anyone is too cool it’s you, Y/n.”

You laughed and tugged at his hand, “Please, Harry. Just fuck me.” You were relieved to see his eyes and the top of his head finally. Just as handsome as before, hair slightly more undone from the hood he had over his head, but it was perfect for what you two were about to do.

Harry let out a shaky breath and looked down to where your entrance was wet and softly clenching for him already. His lips dropped open as he leaned forward, your hand still in his, pressing it down to the mattress next to your head as he pushed his tip in.

“Ohh…” you breathed out and watched his face scrunch up as he plunged in slowly.

“Feel that? This the reminder you needed?” He whispered lowly as he inched in.

There was a moment of silence between you two as you watched each other and he began to move in and out, deeper on each thrust. Heavy breaths and soft moans until he’d reached into you as far as humanly possible, hips rocking into you and fingers tightly squeezing around yours.

“Fuck me… Fucking condom sucks but you… holy shit…” Harry moaned and began to roll into you faster.

You reached your free hand up to move his hair from his face, “Harry… you feel so good inside of me. Oh, my god…” The snap of his hips wetly collided with you as the small bed creaked gently.

Harry held himself up with one hand, palm flat on the mattress as pushed into you, his muscles tensing and flexing above you, “Yeah? Feels good just like you remember? You’re so wet for me, Y/n. Didn’t know you needed me so bad,” he panted his words.

You were wet for him. So wet it was almost embarrassing, but you were glad in a way because he was quite sizable, and if you’d been any less wet it might have hurt. But as it was, the slip and the stretch and the way he could drag himself in and out was delicious.

You cupped his face and moaned loudly as he pounded into you harder. You could feel your tits wobbling and the bed dancing under your back. Harry was groaning and his eyes grew dark fast. Every time he bottomed out he ground himself into you deeply and you gasped at the ache, “Careful! You’re almost too deep!” You breathed out your words in a rush.

His cocky smirk meant that he took that as a compliment, so he did it once more, his eyes pinned to yours as he slowly stuffed himself into your cervix, “Ahh! Harry…” You widened your eyes and then he pushed himself back to his haunches.

“Sorry. Can’t help it,” he spoke, still grinning at you as he smoothed his fingers over your clit and worked his cock in from the new angle.

You knew he was long and that he’d reach deep, but that kind of deepness usually wasn’t achieved without you being on top. Even average-length guys felt deeper when you were on top. But Harry, of course, wasn’t average-sized. And you could tell he was very aware of that fact. Proud of it even.

With his fingers on your clit and the new angle his cock was nudging into your little sparkly, yummy soft spot inside over and over again. You moaned his name and he let go of your hand to fondle your tits. He continued a nice pace, slipping back and pushing in, long, exquisite strokes that filled you and stretched your insides apart. You could only imagine how he’d feel without the condom inhibiting the texture of his skin pressed into your skin. The friction, the way his foreskin would move inside of you, and his swollen tip uninhibited by smooth latex would really make the drag something.

“Yesss!” You moaned as he hit your spot perfectly, the repeated glide of his thick crown into your g-spot, had you trembling.

Harry breathed hard through his nose as he looked down to where he was fucking into you and back to your eyes, “Gonna come already, Y/n? Tell me how good it is.”

“Fuck, Harry… You’re so big and you're pressing into something inside of me that I can’t… I’m gonna… it’s so good… so full… oh fuck! Gonna come…” you babbled and moaned as the bed squeaked and the headboard softly tapped the wall in time with Harry’s thrusts.

“Shit. Was gonna fuck you doggy but if you come I’m gonna come, baby. I can’t help it. Your wet pussy is just sucking me in,” he pressed down over your clit and hastened his fingers and you could feel him shaking.

You tensed your thighs and cried out just as a knock came to the door. Someone was saying something but you were gone. Your ears were ringing and your loud cries and buttery, mouthwatering orgasm were all you could focus on.

Harry groaned and pushed into you a few more times, before he couldn’t hold back, dumping his come into the condom with a choked moan.

He could hear someone threatening to unlock the door but Harry was in bliss. There was no way he could stop his cock from twitching and coming and you were so sweet and pretty below him with your face scrunched and your cries of nonsense.

The cliché of time standing still had been true in that moment. You couldn’t stop trembling and clenching over him as you felt his cock throbbing inside of you. Harry’s own orgasm just prolonged yours. He had leaned over you, his fingers in your hair as he pushed into you with gasps and soft whimpers.

When you finally opened your eyes and Harry had caught his breath the door was opened and Harry turned back quickly, covering your frame with his broad chest, “Sorry! We’ll get out. Just… let us get dressed,” Harry’s words came out breathy and stuttered as he was still breathing heavily.

“Harry? God damnit! Just… Fine. You owe me, man.” The guy who was speaking closed the door. You never saw his face because Harry had covered you and when he sat back he smiled softly at you.

“Want to go back to mine? Stay with me tonight? We can talk a little.”

You grinned and sighed with a nod, “Of course. And then maybe if you’re up for it, you can fuck me doggy like you wanted.”

Harry breathed out a laugh from his nose, “Oh I’ll be up for it.”

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babygorewhore · 11 days

Text

Bite me!

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

When Rafe sees you after picking up Wheezie, he decides that he wants to win you over. Your intoxicating presence hypnotizing him despite your mysterious existence. And Rafe can never back down from a challenge.

W. C almost 3k! Part two

Warnings! News reports of violence! Daddy kink! Male masturbation! Spitting! Biting! Fingering! Non graphic mentions of blood! Unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Light choking! Hints of a sequel…👀 dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx and thank you for always being my sexy beta reader!

Rafe seeing you, a mysterious girl walking around with his sister wheezie after he was picking her up from school immediately caught his interest on a Wednesday afternoon. You wore dark clothes, knee socks and heels despite everyone else wearing sandals and sneakers. You were stunning-no beautiful. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your magnetic smile and whip of your hair as you confidently smiled at him as Wheezie approached him. Her backpack slung over her shoulder and she gave him a knowing look.

“Seriously? She’d never go for you.” She crossed her arms as she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself. Rafe cast her a glare and started the car.

“What’s her name?” She tells him and he nods, savoring the way it sounds. “Pretty. How old is she? Does she work here?”

“I’m not a matchmaker, asshole.” She snaps and he rolls his eyes as he drives home.

“Just tell me.”

“Fine. She’s your age. In her twenties. Yes she works here. She’s a teacher's assistant. And she’s really cool. Kinda quiet but she’s not shy. I like her. She keeps the students in line but she’s fun! She has some crazy stories.”

“Crazy stories?” Rafe muses as they near the house.

“Yeah. She likes to go to graveyards and collect things. She said her favorite time is nighttime and she travels to places around the island for vintage jewelry and furniture.”

Rafe’s mind immediately searched for ideas on ways to get your attention with this information as he parked in the driveway, Wheezie was already half out of the car when he exclaimed, “Wait!” But she was jogging to the front door, ready to pull out the keys for the lock when he caught up.

“I still want to know more,” She lightly slapped his chest as they entered the house.

“Rafe, find her yourself and talk to her. Stop being weird or I’ll tell her you’ve been asking.” Rafe growled softly as she walked away but he knew she’d make good on her threat.

Rafe decided to take his little sister's advice and find you. He went on his phone and typed your name, searching until he found your instagram and he leaned back in his chair in his bedroom as he scrolled through your pictures. Wheezie was right. You did have a collection of unique photos. Including a collection of…vials? He narrowed his eyes but he couldn’t tell what the contents were inside the bottles. You had an array of rings. Expensive ones. But what caught his attention the most was your smile. When you grinned, your teeth looked sharp. Rafe must have been imagining things, too distracted by how fucking pretty you were.

As luck would have it, you posted on your story and he shamelessly clicked on it within seconds. You were at a local coffee shop, which happened to be only a few minutes away and he quickly got up.

When he arrived, he searched for you, finding you reading alone in the corner of the building. Away from the sunlight as you twirled your ring on your finger. You didn’t look up immediately as Rafe neared you, smoothing down his shirt.

“Hey. You’re…?” He spoke your name, causing you to look up with a quirk of your brow.

“Yes?” He swallowed at the sound of your voice. It was low with a hint of a rasp. He set his shoulders and turned on his charm, something that always worked.

“Can I sit down?” He asked and you made a noise of contemplation before nodding.

“Sure, Rafe.”

“Of course, you know who I am,” Rafe chuckled as he sat across from you. You lean back in your seat and cross your legs.

“Well, duh. I mean you’re The infamous Rafe Cameron. Your sister talks about you a lot. About how much of an asshole you are,” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes but you continue. “But…she does love you. You must be doing something right.”

Rafe paused at the compliment. “Yeah? You think so? You have a lot of opinions.”

“So?” You challenge and Rafe holds up his hands.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, princess. Don’t bite my head off,” He chuckles and notices the way your eyes briefly darken at the statement before it disappears. “Are you…new around here? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Sort of. I moved here a few months ago. Needed a fresh start.”

Rafe tilts his head at your answer. “Where are you from?”

“Salem.” You give him a smile and he hums.

“A little bit of a culture shock, huh? Going from doom and gloom to the beach. You don’t exactly fit in.” He shrugs and half expects you to glare at him but you instead laugh.

“Ha, that is true, Rafe. You’re asking a lot of questions. You like me or something?” Your bold question takes him off guard for a second before he decides to answer honestly.

“Yeah, I do. You interest me. You wanna go somewhere? I can get to know you a little better-“

“Who said I was interested back?” You toss at him but Rafe smirks.

“You wouldn’t talk to me if you weren’t, baby. Come on. Give me a chance. Let me win you over. Name it and I’ll do it.”

“Oh, someone’s playing a dangerous game.” You remark but you lean your elbows on the table. “But I’ll play along. How about a party?” You offer.

“A party? That’s it?”

“Not so fast. Not like one of those bullshit things you probably used to throw. A real party. One where we dress up. Where it’s dark. Good music. Good drinks. Sophisticated. I’m a woman of class, you know.”

“For you?” Rafe leans forward and inhales the scent of your perfume. The intoxicating smell lingers in his nose and he sighs. “Anything. Be at my house tomorrow at eight. It’ll be the night of your life.”

Rafe invited a list of people over at his house for that evening the next day, including Barry who was interested in seeing a girl actually out smart him with remarks as he hung up the phone and focused on the tv in his bedroom.

Reports of five people being in the hospital after being attacked by some mysterious animal who drained them of blood. Not that far away from his penthouse. He had half a mind to pull Wheezie from school but decided ultimately she would be safer in a group of people.

As the day progressed and he got the house ready, Rafe waited for you to arrive as his friends did. He didn’t invite many. Prioritizing people who would give him plenty of privacy and entertain themselves.

Where were you? He looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes later and he was getting anxious. Fuck, did you bail?

“Boo.” He heard a whisper in his ear and he spun around in shock.

You stood behind him with a wide smile but he immediately noticed your clothing. You were wearing a dress that fit your curves perfectly. Heels that highlighted your legs, jewelry that dangled from your ankles, wrists and hung above your heart. You still wore expensive rings and your nails were painted black. Your lipstick was red. Rafe breathed in deeply before trying to grasp whatever semblance of calm as he stepped close to you. And you didn’t back away.

“Mmm, you look fucking amazing, baby. Thought you weren’t going to show.”

“I’m a woman of my word, Rafe Cameron. I was exploring.” You flashed your eyes wide for a second before setting a hand on his chest. And he shivered from your cold temperature. “And damn. What a house. But what I noticed was in your entertainment room. It’s like you know me or something.” You chuckle and Rafe raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“It looks like you have a dance floor.” You crossed your arms, your hips shifting inside the material of your dress. “And I love to dance.”

“Is that right?” Rafe mused and you nodded. You reached forward and took his hand. He looked down at your laced fingers as he felt the chill raise on his own skin from the contact. “Well, why don’t you go ahead and show me, baby girl. Show me how good you are.”

You both walked to the entertainment room and he noticed the way the dim lighting illuminated how beautiful you were. You were so elegant. You walked as if you owned everything in this world and he loved that. He loved the way you marched forward but he also took in the way you watched the guests. Your eyes narrowed on their throats before they shifted back to the direction you were both heading towards.

You gently pushed Rafe down on the couch, the pillows shifting from his weight. The room was empty and you smirked at him. He went to sit up but you pin him in place by placing your heeled shoe against his chest. You shake your head and click your tongue. “No, no. You sit there. And enjoy the show. But while you’re being a good boy and listening…you can hold onto these.” Rafe breathed heavily as you gently touched your own leg that was propped up. Your palm slowly grazed your skin, moving up until you hooked your fingers along the elastic of your underwear.

You removed your shoe off him and wiggled your panties off. Stepping out of them, you dangle the soaked pair in front of him. “These are my favorite pair, daddy. But you’ll take care of them, right?”

He was rendered speechless for a second before he snapped out of it and snatched them out of your hand, causing you to laugh. He held them against his lap as you took steps back. You walked to the speaker, picked up the remote and went through a series of options before selecting a song. It was a rock song. One he recognized from social media. Living Dead Girl was the name.

You lower yourself to the ground, getting on your knees in the middle of the floor, you separate your thighs and roll your body. You take your time, running your hands all over your torso before they settle on your tits, you squeeze them lightly as you start bouncing.

Your ass moves as you crawl forward, shifting your body around so you're slowly dancing to the rhythm of the beat and Rafe felt like he was losing his mind. His cock was so hard it hurt and he was desperate for any sort of relief. He eyed your pair of panties and finally decided to use them.

He unbuckled his belt and moved down his pants, his dick stiff against his boxers as he pulled it out, it slapped against his thigh and he wrapped the lace material around it.

He gasped as he ran his hand along his shaft, your underwear clutched in his fist as he watched you start to suck your fingers, laying on the ground as you spread your legs, your fingers brushing against your bare pussy that was exposed as it glistened in the light and he moaned deeply as he tugged at himself.

“Fuck,” He huffed out. He wanted to touch you. So badly but he also didn’t want to interrupt your performance as you slapped your cunt before putting your fingers back in your mouth.

He was getting close already as he harshly jerked himself off, your underwear dampening as precum leaked out as his stomach flexed, his head falling back against the cushion. You looked like a fucking dream as you slowly stood up, continuing to dance to the music as your shoes clacked against the wood floor.

He hadn’t realized his eyes drifted shut when he felt a light tap against his cheek, snapping him out of his trance. You were leaning over him, both hands on either side of his head. Your chest right above his face. “Cum for me, daddy. Make a mess like the dirty whore you are.”

That sent him over the edge and he spilled into your panties. His release coating them as he trembled and he felt your smaller hand wrap around his cock before sliding to his balls and you massaged them. His vision went white as you pumped him through it before you gripped his chin and swiped your thumb along his lower lip. “Open.” You order and he does.

You move above his mouth and spit inside causing him to growl and pull you forward. He maneuvered you on your hands and knees on the large sofa, giving your ass a slap and causing you to whine as he yanks your dress up. He groaned at your sticky inner thighs and he ran his finger along them before focusing on your clit, causing you to buckle but he wrapped his other hand in your hair. “Uh uh, you can fucking take it, princess.”

He rubs circles on your center and you mewl as he pulls your hair harder, feeling you drip onto his fingers and he slides two of them inside your cunt, curling them deeply. “That’s a good girl. Squeezing me so fucking tight. But I think you need something to suck on while I fuck you.” He shoves your panties past your lips as he works you over, making you grind onto his hand.

Rafe runs the tip of his dick along your slit, tapping it a few times before effortlessly pushing it inside. He moans and rests his head briefly on your back, holding you up by moving his head to grip around your neck. “Such a greedy little slut,” He breathes and thrusts hard. “You fucking feel that? I’m gonna breed this tight pussy and you’re fucking mine.” He grits his teeth as he snaps his hips into you.

Your hands grip the arm of the couch as he pulls out before slamming back in, causing you to sob against your underwear in your mouth, his cum and your spit mixing in the corners of your lips as you nod your head, encouraging him to keep going.

The music began repeating, stirring him onward as you clenched around him and he smacked your ass again, feeling you grow closer. “Gonna cum, baby girl? Cum all over daddy’s cock like the good fucking whore you are.”

That’s all it took for him to feel your warm wet cunt pulse before you came all over his dick, you shuddered and cried out as he thrusted a few more times before reaching his own climax.

Ropes of cum coating your insides and he shook before catching you. His balls slapped against your ass as he pulled out of your cunt that leaked on the couch. “Fuck, baby. I think you should lick that clean, don’t you? You’re a dirty girl.” He shoves your face down and removes your panties. Your tongue laps up your own cum as he bobs your head up and down. “You listen to daddy so well,” he praises.

But at a sudden turn of events, you turn and pin him down by his shoulders and straddle his lap. You sink down on his cock again, causing his eyes to widen and pleasure to rise in his veins as you bury your head in his neck. You pepper kisses along his skin as he grips your hips and guides you through riding him.

Your wet pussy takes him to the brim and he groans against your shoulder. He feels your teeth graze his flesh before he feels a prick of pain but it quickly disappears as you wrap a hand around his throat. Keeping him in place as you rock your pelvis.

“Fucking Christ,” he manages and reaches his orgasm again, his cock twitching before his cum gushes inside you. But you still don’t remove your face from the crook of his neck and he’s all too content to allow you to fuck him however long you want as his eyes drift close.

He jerked awake and sat up straight. Minutes had gone by and he looked around. He saw you adjusting your dress, wiping your lips as a trail of red droplets dribbled down your mouth and he tilted his head, subconsciously reaching up to cup his neck.

He felt two punctures that were wet and he pulled his hand back. Rafe dug his phone out, pulling out the camera and he saw it.

A bite mark.

Everything snapped into place as he stared at you, slowly putting his phone down as you turned towards him. “Are you-did you fucking bite me and drink my…blood?”

Instead of denying it, you gave him a wicked smirk. “But you’ll keep that to yourself, daddy. Won’t you?”

Rafe remembered the news report earlier that day. People were drained of blood and how mysterious you were.

You were a fucking vampire.

“But how is that possible?” He whispered.

“Darling, you have no idea what kind of creatures are out there. You’re lucky I like you, Rafe. But I have to go. You certainly held up your end of the game didn’t you?” You giggle and begin walking away.

“Will I see you again?” He questioned and made you turn your head.

“And why would I forget someone who tastes so fucking good, baby?” You wink at him before finally exiting the room and Rafe sank into the seat.

“What the fuck?” He whispered to himself but didn’t couldn’t deny himself the truth.

This was the night of his life.

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @rafescurtainbangz @emsgoodthinkin @take-everything-you-can @valeskafics @slvt4jamesmarch @gri959 @oceandriveab @rafesthroatbaby

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after-witch · 25 days

Text

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up.

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away.

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs.

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life.

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season.

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner.

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes.

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic.

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces.

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind, you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running.

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep.

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking.

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild.

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way.

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket.

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.”

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right?

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman.

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway.

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he?

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark.

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another, you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week.

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you.

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place. “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.”

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested.

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected.

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe?

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.”

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way.

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story.

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no.

So you give it.

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes.

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness.

Jake Jensen died screaming.

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night.

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.”

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse.

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night.

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too.

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.”

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.”

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place.

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream.

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them.

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger.

“There--look! Look!”

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts.

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.”

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand.

Chrollo smiles.

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do?

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all.

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind.

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me?

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth.

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

Saturday:

Three people are dead.

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But… dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd.

Yet now, in one morning, there are three.

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad.

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight.

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days.

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date.

Fuck.

“Daydreaming again?”

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school.

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?”

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way.

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.”

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news.

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game.

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival.

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes.

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again.

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him?

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose.

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!”

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look.

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit.

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all.

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you.

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights.

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says.

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay.

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind.

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes.

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you.

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest.

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less.

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival.

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening.

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it?

You ask him, this time.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags.

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water.

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it. “The waterfall adds a nice touch.”

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess.

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled.

“It came highly recommended.”

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex.

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room.

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand.

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note.

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong. That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that. You just know.

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all.

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused.

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t).

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that.

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural.

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify.

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.”

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you.

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments.

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue.

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game.

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming.

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.”

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.”

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all.

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense.

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.”

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken.

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him.

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway. You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway.

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.”

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd.

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust.

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do?

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving.

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t.

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms.

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?”

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?”

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police.

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.”

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving.

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic.

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch.

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage.

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve.

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood.

That’s not all he hit. The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies.

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!”

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you.

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?”

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!”

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there.

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch.

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck.

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires.

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide. But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years.

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you.

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away.

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason, you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway.

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope.

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below.

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways.

All of them have blood around their mouths.

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up.

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now.

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs.

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises.

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow.

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm.

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man.

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment. Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is:

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers.

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material.

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all.

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while.

He’s a vampire.

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically.

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy.

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?”

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin.

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.”

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.”

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts.

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest.

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole.

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s.

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.”

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him?

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper.

“Like. Hell.”

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered.

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire?

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground.

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not.

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this.

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once.

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping.

“F…fuck you.”

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood.

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment.

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up.

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them.

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water.

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.”

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick.

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy. “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous.

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t.

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely.

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes.

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand. Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood.

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too?

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway?

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over.

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open.

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think.

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you��re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood.

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run?

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help.

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find?

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry.

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.”

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--”

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film.

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort.

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?”

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness.

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you.

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down.

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up, you find that you simply can’t make your body do it. You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this.

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down.

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world.

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes #this fic is my baby /wraps it in a blanket

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ohcorny · 25 days

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so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

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malum-forev · 6 months

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In My Head

Bucky was past the point of anger. Sam could tell by the way Bucky stared at him with tense eyebrows. He had been for the past sixteen hours.

“What the hell is wrong with you now?” Sam massaged his temples. They had barely escaped death days prior, he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with whatever Bucky’s problem was.

But the Sergeant kept quiet.

Sam huffed, leaning his head back on the wall of the plane.

Just three more hours and we’re back home. Sam thought.

Bucky grinded his teeth, keeping his eyes set on the floor. He felt his blood like fire, rushing through his whole body. His thoughts were racing, a thousand miles per hour. His muscles felt weak but he couldn’t fall asleep, not after what happened.

A flashback to the moment where everything almost ended came back but Bucky shook his head, trying to erase the memory. But nothing would let him forget what he saw in those last seconds.

Then the all-consuming rage came back again.

Bucky had been going through this vicious cycle for the past 72 hours.

His body tried to betray him when the plane landed, Bucky’s sore body begged for mercy. Even one hour of rest would help but he was on a mission.

Bucky stalked off the ramp directly into the compound’s common area.

“Buck!” Steve rose from the couch, happy to see his best friend alive and back.

But instead of greeting his friend, Bucky kept walking. “Where is she.”

“She? Who?”

“She’s got you too, huh.” Bucky scoffed. “Un-fucking-believable.”

The elevator ride up to the bedrooms was too long for him. He needed to unleash the rage he’d been filtering for days, and there was only one person responsible for everything.

You thought you were getting a relaxed Sunday. No one needed help, the world was at peace, and you were going to watch disgustingly cheesy movies all day.

Key word- thought.

Suddenly your door was being almost smashed by a couple of knocks.

“I know you’re in there.” Bucky’s voice boomed.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible. He would go away eventually, right?

“Open the damn door!” He yelled. “I can hear your breathing pattern.”

Your “relationship”, if you could even call it that, with Bucky is strained to say the least.

He’s a veteran who should be retired, you’re a newer hire. He likes things to be done a specific way, you always try new things. He wants to lead, you want to lead.

“I’m not on the clock right now so technically, you’re not my boss.” You yelled back, throwing a popcorn kernel in the air and catching it in your mouth.

“Open this fucking door you witch!”

“Sorceress.” You corrected him. If he was going to try and use your powers to insult, he should do it the correct way.

You heard a growl then a pop. As you sit up in bed, the door handle from your side of the room falls to the floor and the door flies open.

“Guess the door was open after all.” Bucky gives you a fake smile.

“Why are you here.” You turn away from him, partly to act disinterested and partly to stop looking at him. He wasn’t your favorite person in the world but you’re only human! You hadn’t seen him in days and the ruffled ways of his hair and unkempt beard made your breath hitch.

“You know why I’m here.” He gripped the metal pole on your bed’s footboard, you turn only your head towards him blinking a couple of times at the sight of his rolled-up Henley exposing his forearms. When the fuck did you start being attracted to forearms, when did that even become a thing! You followed the popped-up veins traveling from his knuckles to his elbows where they disappeared completely.

“I don’t have time for your mysterious ways, Barnes.” You turn back to your movie. “Either tell my why you’re pissed or get out.”

With two steps he’s standing next to you again. His stern blue eyes pierced through you, forcing your head up.

“How did you do it.” Bucky says through gritted teeth.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“This is the last time I’ll ask politely.” You could see the anger in his eyes. “How the fuck did you do it!”

You stand up. He was still ways taller than you but no one was going to come into your room and speak to you like that.

“I have no clue as to what you’re talking about.” You crossed your arms. “So, this is the last time I’ll ask you properly. Get out.”

Bucky let out a humorless laugh. “Is this a joke to you? This job? Be careful how you talk to me because I can make everything go away in a second.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Your breathing quickens as your anger rises. “You have no right being here when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?!” Bucky yells coming closer to you. “You almost cost me my life that’s what you did! Now you say nothing’s wrong?”

“Your life? How the hell am I responsible for a mistake you made thousands of miles away!” You stand inches away from his face, rage hovering over both of you like a cloud.

“You got in here!” Bucky points to his head “I know you did some spell just for me to mess up!”

“I didn’t do anything! I wouldn’t try and get you killed!” You yell.

“Then how the fuck did I see you when I was going down!” He yells back and your room suddenly goes quiet, only the sounds of your heavy breathing could be heard.

“Y- you saw me when you were dying?” You whisper, looking up at his crystal blue eyes.

Bucky sucked in a breath, his eyes going from yours to your lips.

“You were in my head, I know you did it on purpose.” Bucky’s eyes stopped at your lips.

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you were almost certain Bucky was coming closer to you.

But suddenly, the heat radiating off his body was ripped away from you. He jumped towards the door and out the hallway.

“I need to leave.” He said, coughing into his hand. Red splotches adorning his cheeks. “I’m sorry about your door handle, I’ll have someone come by and fix it.”

All you could do was nod.

“I-my-I’m.” Bucky stuttered.

“Have a nice rest of your Sunday, Sarge.” You said and he nodded his head, hurrying down to his bedroom.

You fell back onto your bed. This has got to be the weirdest Sunday ever.

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psychedelic-ink · 11 months

Text

𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing: dbf!ellaria sand x plus size!f!reader x oberyn martell, ellaria sand x oberyn martell

genre: smut, modern au, hurt/comfort, minors dni

word count: 7.2k

summary: Wanting to get away from it all for a while, your dad suggests that you go and stay with his friend in the city; Ellaria Sand. It's been a hot while since you last saw her and you must admit, you have a bit of a crush on the older woman. What you don't expect, however, is to find an equally charming stranger staying with her as well.

warnings: threesome, age gap (reader being in her late twenties), weed use, dirty talking, body insecurities (weight related), piv, oral sex (male and female), praise kink, light bdsm dynamics, subdrop, aftercare, squirting (but like very non explicit squirting as ironic as that sounds dfvdv), use of petnames (little one, pet, good girl), no use of y/n, both ellaria and oberyn are mentioned to be polyamourus, edging

a/n: this is hella indulgent and an idea I've had since September but never actually gotten around writing it. However, while I was taking a nap the idea suddenly consumed me and I had to pause everything else to sit down and write it. Enjoy the filth, there's so much going on ❤️‍🔥

**dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

You’re anxious as you wait for the door to open in front of you. It’s been a rough couple of months—years, actually. You feel suffocated by the world around you and yourself. Every day is another battle. You hate to admit it but you’re just so tired of fighting. There’s a constant weight on your chest that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do. Which led you to the doorsteps of your dad’s friend, Ellaria Sand.

The idea had came from your dad. Noticing your troubles fitting in, he recommended you go and visit her. You were more than eager to oblige. You loved her company, she had an aura about her that just made you feel welcome. Talking to her came easy since she did most of it, and when you had something to say, she would actually listen.

While you’re thinking about all of this, you’re trying very hard to ignore the fact that you might have a teeny-tiny crush on the older woman. However you’re ready to make the argument that it’s not your fault, she was just too charming—who wouldn’t have a crush on her?

Ellaria’s excitement mimics your own as she opens the door. With a wide smile, she wraps her arms around you and drags you inside.

“How was the trip?” she asks excitedly. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not, I like traveling,” you answer. “Thank you for having me by the way. How are you?”

“Oh, pretty much the same. Nothing new.” she helps you with your luggage and you follow her to the spare bedroom. “Also I forgot to mention on the phone but a friend of mine will be visiting and staying with us as well. Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you say with a leveled voice. “Does the mystery guest have a name?”

As you step into the room, she turns to you, still smiling.

“His name is Oberyn.”

For your first night, you weren’t expecting to get high on the couch with Ellaria, yet here you are, your chest full of cannabis as your head rests over her lap.

“So who is this guy?” you ask as she places the joint between your lips. You feel the warmth of her fingers. “A boyfriend or something?”

“Or something.”

You draw your brows together, confused, “What does that mean?”

“It means my sweet flower,” she answers slowly, dragging her knuckles up your heated cheek. “We’re together but we both agree that the pleasure of the world is too many to limit ourselves to one person.”

“You’re in an open relationship?” you take a deep drag from the joint, your lungs expanding with smoke.

“We’re both polyamorous.”

“Wow, lucky,” you say with an envious tone. She quirks an eyebrow yet her smile continues on to be a humorful one. You stammer with your words. “I-I mean, it’s lucky that you found each other. Must be nice having the same ideals as someone.”

She nods, placing the blunt back between her lips, “It is.”

“Is he nice to you?”

You’re not quite sure what prompts you to as that. First of all, it feels way too personal of a question to be asking your father’s friend. Even though Ellaria has spoken about her sexual relationships before, it still feels like your might be crossing an invisible line. A fog settles over your mind, loosening your tongue. You’re fascinated by functioning relationships. You’re fascinated by the idea of two people actually being understanding and caring towards each other—as ridiculous as that may sound. You haven’t had the best experiences when it came to partners, most of them going into it with hopes of changing who you are, so anytime you see two people actually liking each other’s company you can’t help but want to pull out a camera and record everything.

Ellaria blows smoke toward your face, the warmth of it ghosting over your skin like a summer breeze.

“He is. I wouldn’t really be with him if he wasn’t.” she pinches your cheek. “You have a weird look on your face.”

“Oh,” you answer dumbly. “Sorry.”

“I’m just worried. Your father didn’t really say anything other than you really needed a break.”

“I guess I’m just a bit lonely.”

“Well,” she says and reaches towards the ashtray to snuff out the blunt. “If that’s the case you came to the right place. You can stay as long as you want to.” before you can say anything, she starts rolling another one and a loud knock echoes across the dimly lit apartment.

“Ah, that must be Oberyn.”

Begrudgingly, you remove yourself away from her lap and watch Ellaria make her way toward the door. She’s wearing an orange dress, the color warming her skin. You can’t help the way your gaze drops to her behind, the soft fabric hugging her curves delicately.

With a noise, you hurriedly snap your eyes away. It’s not the time to be ogling her like a piece of meat.

No matter how good she looks.

You weakly attempt to collect yourself when Ellaria returns with a tall man in tow. As you get up, you stagger a bit but manage to immediately keep yourself upright by holding on to Oberyn’s outstretched hand. His smile is kind, and the kindness reaches the depth of his eyes. Though you also see a hint of curiosity in them. His palm is searing against yours and his fingers are long and nice-looking, you spot a stylish golden ring on his thumb.

A bit scared, and a bit excited, you meet his gaze. He’s quite handsome. In fact, you believe you might be in the presence of the most attractive two people in the city. His facial hair is neatly trimmed, framing his jawline which in return gives it an even more sharper look.

While you two remain hand in hand, Ellaria makes the introductions. Oberyn’s thumb smooths down your inner writs. A shiver rolls down your spine. “It is very lovely to meet you,” he says earnestly.

“Likewise.”

Oberyn picks up the unlit joint Ellaria had left on the coffee table before she went to greet him. You see a faint sparkle in his eyes. “You two were smoking?” he asks, turning to Ellaria.

“To relax the nerves, my love,” she answers with a playful smile. “Help yourselves, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You feel as if someone poured cold water over your head, “Maybe I can help?” you take a step forward, intent on following her to wherever she was going—which you assume is the kitchen. But she stops you with the raise of her hand.

“Please, I’ll be right back. In the meanwhile you two get acquainted.”

A second later it’s just you and Oberyn alone in the living room. He seems unbothered and lights the joint as he takes a seat. There’s a certain air of expertise and elegance in whatever he does. He pats the cushion next to him, “Sit.”

You sigh softly, collapsing next to him. He flicks the lighter and leans towards the tiny flame, his eyes fixed on the empty threshold. He takes two quick exhales, the tip of the joint burning a bright orange. Smoke pours from the corners of his lips. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him. Shadows dance over his face, giving him a dark look.

“How do you two know each other?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts.

You blink, momentarily lost in his gaze, before extending your hand to take another drag from the joint. Your fingers feel slightly numb as you bring it to your lips. "She's a friend of my dad's," you explain, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've known each other for a while."

Oberyn nods, his fingers gently brushing the back of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat, and you find yourself leaning closer to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“What about you?” you ask, hating the way your voice trembled.

A soft smile plays on his lips. His thumbs continue their soothing caress on the back of your neck, tracing delicate patterns that send a shiver of pleasure through your body.

"She walked into my lecture one day," Oberyn begins, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "I was talking about the ancient civilizations of Essos, and there she was, her eyes filled with curiosity. After the lecture, she approached me with such confidence, asking questions that sparked my own curiosity. I learned that she was an artist and she was lacking inspiration. She thought a trip to the past would spark something in her." he says blissfully. “And spark it did.”

“You’re a professor?”

He hums, elevated by your intrigue, “Yes, but I do prefer excavating and traveling to new sites.” he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "It's much more freeing, rather than being trapped between four walls."

His words wash over you like a gentle caress, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of his warmth. The joint burns low between your fingers, forgotten for a moment. With a jolt of panic, you extend it back to him.

Oberyn's voice lowers even further, a velvet murmur that tickles your ear. "She's a remarkable woman, isn't she? So full of life and passion."

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you find yourself nodding, captivated by the combination of his words and the tender touch of his thumbs on your skin. "Yes, she is," you reply.

“You like her,” Oberyn says, a statement, rather than a question. You’re horrified by the implication of it. Your lips part and close, words failing to come out. His sudden burst of laughter makes you jump. “Do not look so worried, I’m not here to judge you. I appreciate anyone who sees her for the gorgeous woman that she is.”

His fingers find purchase under your chin, he lifts your gaze, dark eyes boring into yours. You forget how to breathe. With a soft smile, Oberyn brings the joint to his lips and takes a deep inhale, You can hear the sizzle of it, and feel the heat that radiates from the crimson tip. Your lips part by instinct, he leans closer.

Oberyn fills your lungs with delicious smoke. Your lips never touch, yet you swear you can feel them pressed together. He breathes life into you and when it’s all done, he licks himself deep into your mouth. Pressing deeper, Oberyn flattens his tongue against yours and nips your bottom lip. Sweat drips from your spine and gathers at your tailbone. His hands affectionately cradle your face, inhaling you one last time, he breaks the kiss.

You’re a panting mess, your lips tingling for more.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your eyes go wide, “I—Excuse me what?” slightly inching forward, you stare into his eyes. “Ellaria is right down the hall, wouldn’t it be. . . rude?”

That sparks an amused chuckle from him. “You’re adorable,” he muses. “I promise you that she wants this as much as I do.”

“She. . . does?”

“Ellaria adores you. She also enjoys sharing her favorite things with the one’s that she cares for,” his fingers curl around your throat and you swallow. Oberyn tilts your head to the side. “Now, let me see you.”

And this is the part where your insecurities make an ugly appearance. You avert your gaze, hugging yourself while Oberyn continues to stare. You want to do this. You absolutely do, if the slick gathering in your underwear is any indication, but it’s still hard for you to believe that he wants to.

You feel the bite of his nails and bring your gaze back to him. You’re not sure what does it, but you find yourself scrambling off of the couch. You don’t see not one ounce of a lie in those eyes—you only see lust and intrigue. Besides, you came here to loosen up, what better way is there to do that than making out with a handsome stranger?

When you’re left only in your bra and underwear, Oberny pulls you to his lap and you let out a soft gasp. He unclasps your bra and throws it over the small pile of clothes you had left behind, leaving you only in your, visibly soaked, panties.

“Oberyn. . .”

You jolt at the soft lilt of Ellaria’s voice. You stiffen over the older man’s lap, not knowing what to do. With a smile, he draws soothing circles over your thighs.

Ellaria takes a seat next to you two. You’re too flustered to look at her but despite not looking, you see the delicate curl of her lips.

“She’s too beautiful not to touch,” Oberyn drags his nose down your neck, and you smile giddily. Your heart beating a mile a minute. “Don’t you agree with me, Ellaria?”

Her tongue swiping over her bottom lip, she reaches out and holds your breast, weighing it with her palm. She brushes a thumb over your pebbled nipple, a soft whine parts your lips. “I do.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, love. Why would I not think you are beautiful?”

You grow silent. Ellaria’s fingers dances along your arm and heat settles in your core. Oberyn, with a curious gaze and a half smile, drags his thumbs down to the soft contours of your stomach rolls and gently pinches. You whine, sticking your bottom lip out, you look away from them both.

“I think I have an idea why she thinks like that,” he hums. Ellaria’s gaze drops to where Oberyn’s hands rest, meaning your stomach. Your cheeks burn. Her eyebrows raised, you feel the weight of her gaze locked onto your face, but still, you refuse to look at her. Or him. “She lives in a cruel world that makes her think she’s anything but desirable. But we see her for what she is.”

“And what’s that?” you mutter, embarrassed to be read so easily. He was right, you never thought of yourself as being desirable, even if you desperately wanted to. There were mornings you just woke up hating yourself, staring into the mirror and poking endlessly at your face and observing every imperfection. You’re tired of it. Tired of thinking of yourself as less. Which is one of the reasons why you came here. Why your dad wanted you to spend time with Ellaria, he knew the woman had ways of making you feel better.

Oberyn's firm yet gentle grasp on your chin draws your attention, anchoring your gaze and shifting your focus solely to him. His smile is wide and predatory, like a snake. You tremble as his hands slide from your stomach to your waist, their scorching touch and commanding presence stirring a primal reaction within you.

“You’re a gorgeous girl,” he answers with a melodic lilt from his sinful tongue. “The type of girl we want to ravish for as long as you’re staying here.”

“If you want to, of course,” Ellaria adds, playfully pinching your nipple. Your eyes flutter closed. The sudden mixture of pleasure and pain makes your skin tingle pleasantly. “Do you, little one?”

You nod. Everything that’s happening feels like a fever dream. The scent of cannabis is still heavy in the air, making you feel soft and slow like molasses. Ellaria’s fingers dance along your nape, nimble fingers sliding into the roots of your hair, she gently tugs. Meanwhile, Oberyn nips at the soft skin of your neck.

“Words, love.” Ellaria commands.

“Yes,” you breathe out, voice shaking. “I want to. . . if you guys want to.”

Oberyn whispers, “Good girl,” against your skin, and a wave of dizziness engulfs you. The two devour with the ways they touch and bite. Ellaria’s lips melt into your own as Oberyn cups both your breasts, kneading the soft mounds.

Kissing Ellaria had been a fantasy you frequently indulged in over the years and you’re pleasantly surprised to realize she tastes like cherries and roses. You have endless memories of slipping your hand between your legs as soon as you were in the privacy of your room. You always had a feeling that she knew. Her gaze too observant, too cunning not to see the thoughts lingering in your head.

Oberyn lowers his head and lifts your breasts to his mouth. He laves his tongue over your nipples hungrily. A wanton moan echoes in the back of your throat, your head falls as you part away from Ellaria. You hear her chuckle. “You taste sweet,” she comments, making you keen. “Despite the smoke Oberyn blew into your lungs.”

“You saw that?”

“You two weren’t exactly being discreet.”

You’re hot all over, embarrassment pouring over you like summer rain. Oberyn doesn’t seem to care, consumed with the taste of your flesh. Your underwear sticks to your folds and you squirm over his lap. The man groans when you brush his length, you feel him twitch through the soft fabric of his sweats. The blood rush is loud in your ears.

He feels. . . big.

“Shit,” you mumble, delving your fingers into his short locks. You tug him closer to your chest and sloppily grind on top of him. You feel the sharpness of his teeth and then—

He bites you.

With a sharp cry you jerk away, your gaze instantly finding Oberyn’s. The man is grinning from ear to ear. Your heart beats wildly against your ribcage. “What was that for?” you gasp, chest heaving.

“It was an affectionate bite,” he teases, then presses his lips over the tiny dents. “Did it hurt?”

“No . . .” you answer, sounding uncertain. “I was just surprised.”

Ellaria rolls her eyes and tugs Oberyn towards her. The man goes willingly, his wicked smile never fading as she crashes their lips together. You see the pink of Ellaria’s tongue slip between Oberyn’s lips. His hands drop, his thumbs digging into the crease between your thighs and hips. You watch wide-eyed at the way the two devour each other. They’re so earnest, so hungry. It makes you ache between your legs and a bit in your heart. While Ellaria licks herself deeper into his mouth, Oberyn guides the roll of your hips.

Suddenly struggling about where to put your hands, you place them on his chest. The fabric of his shirt bunches underneath your fingers. Your eyes roll at the delicious caress of his clothed cock. You want to feel more.

When they part, a string of saliva connects them still. Oberyn grins at her and tilts his head toward you. “She likes the show it seems,” he states.

With a soft smile, Ellaria turns to you. She cups your cheek and smooths her thumb over your heated skin. Your heart soars. She’s so tender, so soft with you. It makes you dizzy. You never thought someone like her would be interested. And you don’t only say this because of your physical insecurities, you just always felt like she would find you too inexperienced. Too young. You always had this unnecessary fear of sounding dumb when you talked with her.

“What are you thinking?” she whispers, coming closer. Her hot breath fans your skin as Oberyn flattens his tongue over your neck, dragging the wet muscle up until his nose is firmly pressed against your jaw.

“I’m thinking that this must be a dream,” you answer. “And I’m thinking how intoxicating you two are.”

Oberyn’s smile is wide as he pulls away, his eyebrows raised. “Look at that, she found her tongue. How delightful.”

Ellaria kisses the right corner of your lips and addresses Oberyn. “You’ll scare her, she’s fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you pout. With a laugh, she presses her lips against your jutted lip. “I’m just nervous. . . you know my experiences haven’t been—” You clear your throat, suddenly aware of Oberyn’s eyes on you. “Great.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Obeyn chimes in, his gaze moving to Ellaria, “What does that mean?”

“Poor girl never came from another hand but her own.”

“Ellaria!”

“Oh?” Oberyn’s eyes bore into your own. It’s so intense that you can’t look away, and honestly, you’re not sure that you want to. He pulls down your bottom lip, dipping his thumb into the seam. “You won’t have to worry about that with us, sweet creature.”

“I’m sure,” you hum, a coy smile playing on your lips. “So can we uh. . . can we take this to the bedroom? I’m not that comfortable on the couch. If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Ellaria answers. “Besides I hate how this fabric feels against my skin. So the bed is definitely preferred.”

Oberyn, without saying a word, nuzzles your neck before pulling you to your feet. You falter, still a bit dazed. Yet, his arm catches you, keeping you from falling.

“Careful,” he tuts, lips touching your forehead.

Oberyn’s arm never leaves your waist as Ellaria guides the two of you through the hallway of her home. A route you don’t doubt Oberyn has taken many times before.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you enter Ellaria’s room. It’s quite neat, the bed quite big, which doesn’t surprise you in the least.

Ellaria looks at you with a smile, curling her fingers around the elastic of your underwear, she tugs you close. Oberyn looms right behind you, he hadn’t closed the door as he entered. His cock hard and aching, resting between the crease of your clothed ass cheeks. His palms caress the soft mounds, his breath warm and wet against your nape.

You’re suddenly highly aware that you’re the only one practically naked. Noticing this, heat crawls up your chest and curls around your neck. At any moment you expect to wake up in the familiar setting of the guest room, none of this seems real.

“Lay down, Oberyn,” Ellaria’s voice breaks the silence, her eyes never leaving yours as she addresses her lover. “We’ll join you shortly.”

“Hmm,” he kisses your neck, your legs shake in response. “Should I take off my clothes?”

“Yes.”

Oberyn smiles, gives your ass one last firm squeeze, and retreats. And as much as you want to stare at the man in his full naked glory, it’s hard to pull your gaze away from Ellaria. You hear the bed creaking under the man’s weight. Still, you don’t turn to look. Ellaria kneels before you, tugging your underwear along with her. Her hands, despite not being large as Oberyn’s, feels all consuming. They languidly slide above your calves and thighs as she raises to stand on her feet once more.

When she stands, you make a move to take off her garments but she gently pushes your hands back. “You watch,” she says, pulling off the straps of her dress and allowing it to pool at her ankles.

You touch her like art. Soft and slow. Almost as if she wasn’t there. You cup her waist and skim your palm until you reach the side of her breast, in which you hold tenderly under your hand. A soft gasp leaves her and you look at her with shock and amazement. You bend forward, closing your lips around the tender nipple. You swirl your tongue around the areola, her eyes fluttering as she lets out a sigh.

“That’s nice,” she says, looking at you between heavy eyelids. “You don’t need to be shy with us.”

If it were anyone else saying that you wouldn’t have believed them, “I think you’re right,” you whisper, more to yourself rather than her. “You’re sure you don’t mind me being. . . timid?”

Her brows furrow with confusion, her gaze searching your own as your thumb continues to dance over the darker patch of skin. Then you see it, the recognition flashing in her eyes. She might’ve forgotten, but you remember her talking about how much of a bore it was to be with unsure people. Timid, as she had put it. Which is something you’re being right now—you think.

Your eyes find Oberyn’s from above her shoulder. It’s a fleeting moment. But he seems to be eating you both with the darkness of his eyes. Your heart skips a beat. Ellaria’s hand cradles the back of your neck, gently tightening her grip. When your gaze moves back to her, you see that she’s smiling.

“I didn’t mean you when I said that,” she answers. “You lack confidence, there’s a difference. And I doubt you’ll be holding yourself back after regaining it.”

“You don’t think I’m boring?”

“I don’t,” leaning in, she drags her nose over yours, soft lips only an inch away. “Let’s not keep Oberyn waiting.”

When you both turn, you see that Oberyn is softly touching himself. Fingers teasingly moving up and down his impressive length. You clench your teeth, arousal overwhelming every orifice of your body. “How should we do this?” he asks, eyes on Ellaria.

Grinning, she gently nudges your shoulder with her own, you can’t stop staring at Oberyn however. He’s all lean muscle, the extra padding making him look fit. The coarse dark hairs lead a path from his softened stomach to his pulsing cock. Noticing your gaze, he wraps a hand around himself and starts to fuck his fist with hard strokes. He watches with delight at the way you lick your lips when a bead of precome appears on the tip.

“Would you want to taste him?” Ellaria’s lips touch your ear.

An awkward chuckle bubbles from your chest, “Am I being that obvious?”

“Only slightly.”

She guides you to the bed, and you take your place between Oberyn’s legs while Ellaria is more to the side. His hand instantly finds the side of your face, thumb tugging at the corner of your lips as he stares at you with a softened gaze.

“Needy,” he murmurs. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you, little one.”

You feel your pupils physically expanding. Ellaria drags her nails down your scalp, you purr at the sensation. “He likes it when you go slow,” she informs. “Start at the tip and drag your tongue down, he likes being teased.”

With an urge to please, you do exactly as she says. First, you swirl your tongue around the bulbous head, his thighs stiffen, then you flatten your tongue and move down. The moan that comes from him is unfiltered and loud. Slick gushes between your legs.

“Good girl,” he gasps. “You too.”

It takes you a while to understand what Oberyn means. You only become aware that he was addressing Ellaria when the other joins you, licking a stripe up the other side of his length. You moan as you take the head between your lips, meanwhile, Ellaria closes her lips around the base, sucking the delicate skin. A choked out moan parts his lips, not being able to keep still, his hips stutter, forcing you to take more of him. His width spreads your lips wide. Your eyes water and you feel Ellaria’s tongue as she kisses the skin right under your eye.

She replaces your lips with her own. You watch in a dazed manner as she takes Oberyn down her throat with practiced ease. His fingers tangle into her curls when she hollows her cheeks, forcing her head down. The sight alone makes you drip for them both. Now feeling even bold, you meet Ellaria’s lips while she’s sucking on the tip. You swear you see a ghost of a grin when she slips her tongue into your mouth. You taste a mixture of them in your mouth, and your head spins. Not wanting to part away, both of you lower yourselves, taking Oberyn between your lips as your tongues struggle to meet around his cock.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, cock twitching between the pair of lips. You feel his rough fingers moving along your cheek. “You’re doing so well—both of you are,” Ellaria pulls away and winks at you before turning to Oberyn. You take him halfway into your mouth, the tip touching the back of your throat. He makes a sound, burying his head further into the pillows. “If you continue doing that I’m going to come.”

The sound of his voice lights a flame in you, the strokes of your tongue becoming more wild and eager. You swallow around him, over and over, until Ellaria pulls you away.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you choke out, eyes flitting between the two. “I want you to come,” you then add, jerking him.

“Oh it is,” he answers with a sly smile. “But before that, I want to see you come undone on my tongue. And my cock.”

Ellaria feels you shudder as she traces the line of your spine, “Get on all fours,” she says barely in a whisper.

You do as you’re told. Arousal coils tightly in your stomach, your body burning from the inside out. You’re over-excited. Your breathing coming out in short, rushed pants. Oberyn gets behind you as Ellaria takes Oberyn’s place and pulls you between her delicate thighs. Your one arm instantly curls around one leg as you brace yourself with the other by flattening your palm over the mattress.

Oberyn’s fingers languidly slide down the curve of your ass and slip two of them into your soaking heat with ease. You melt into the touch, your elbow immediately giving way and falling. Without thinking much you kiss the inside of Ellaria’s thighs, sucking and nipping her ample flesh. Oberyn begins to thrust his fingers in and out. Your walls flutter around the digits, your body growing tenses.

“So wet,” he approves. “You must be very excited.”

“F-Fuck, I am,” you whimper, attempting to meet the thrust of his fingers.

He scissors his fingers and curls them, applying pressure to a delicate spot deep inside. A jolt of electricity rushes over you. Your body engulfed in a crackling heat.

“Taste her,” he says. “Aren’t you curious?”

Instead of answering, you meet Ellaria’s gaze before pressing your lips into her cunt. You moan into her, and she draws up her legs, bracketing you between the inside of her thighs. She cradles the back of your head with both hands, guiding you as you drag your tongue between her folds. She tastes fucking delicious. You love this, love giving her pleasure. With a hum, you close your lips around her aching clit and suck. Hard.

Her body jolts, the bed underneath creaking. Oberyn swears from underneath his breath, and you imagine him staring at Ellaria’s debouched face. You bet she looks beautiful. Nudging the bundle of nerves with the curve of your nose, you tease her entrance with your tongue, slowly pushing in.

“And you worried you would be timid,” she croaks out, her back arching as she tugs you closer. “Look at you now, my sweet girl doing such a good job in pleasing us.”

Oberyn’s fingers are replaced with his sinful tongue, heat drips from your spine. Without wanting to, you pull away from Ellaria, moaning loudly between her legs. His tongue delves deeper, kissing your folds and lapping at everything you have to offer. He grazes his teeth and you writhe against him, your lips moving sloppily along the apex of her thighs as you attempt to kiss her.

His tongue feels too damn long. . . he pushes the soft muscle inside, the mild stretch making your stomach roll. Oberyn is much better at this than you are. No doubt about it. Ellaria only watches as the most sinful sounds escape your throat. He fucks you with his tongue and between thrusts, he manages to flick your clit with the pointed tip. It makes you feral. You’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore. You continue to taste Ellaria, albeit much more sloppily compared to before. You catch her gaze whenever the fog in your head lifts, her lips are parted, eyes half-lidded.

“I think you’re ready to take me,” Oberyn says, his voice hoarse.

Before you can answer, Ellaria cups your cheeks, pulling you away from her core. Your chest heaves. She swipes her thumb over your lips, spreading the wetness caused by her cunt. “I want you to pick a word, love.”

“A word?” you cringe internally at how out of it you sound. They haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already a mess.

“A safeword,” Oberyn explains Ellaria’s words further. His hands grip your love handles and squeeze them tenderly, he pulls you back and you feel the warmth of his cock heavy on your ass.

You think for a minute, your eyes darting around Ellaria’s face and the wall behind her. Your mind is completely empty. Blank. Not even one word comes to mind.

Oberyn licks his lips, “How about that stoplight system? Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop?”

Ellaria’s gaze searches your own, and you nod, “That sounds good.”

“Alright then,” Oberyn purrs, etching closer. He slides his cock between your folds, his hands skimming up your waist. Ellaria continues to hold your face, watching your every expression with interest. Your eyes widen— is she waiting to see your expression when Oberyn enters you? Fuck. Heat blossoms in your chest. “What is your color now?” he asks, hand cupping the back of your neck.

“Green,” you say with a whimper.

Oberyn pushes in inch by inch. He stretches you beautifully, only a hint of pain following while he fills you. Ellaria smiles as your eyes roll back, your lips parting with a guttural sound. He feels so good. So deep. When he’s fully sheathed inside, he waits for you to adjust to his size. Your legs shake. You’re barely keeping yourself together. Ellaria slips her thumb into your mouth and you wrap your lips around her diligently. She hums with approval.

“Does she feel good?” Ellaria asks Oberyn.

“Yes. She feels like she was made for me. Such a perfect hole to fill.”

You shudder, dripping down his cock and the inside of your thighs. “Oh god—” you choke out, your voice thick.

Ellaria releases you when Oberyn rocks his hips impatiently. Your cheek drops to her thigh and with a shaky hand, you bring your fingers to her cunt, slowly slipping two of them inside. You know she wasn’t expecting it when her head snaps back. You can’t help the little smile that graces your lips. Her heat consumes you. Oberyn’s thrusts become faster, harder, sinking deep into your cunt. And with every stroke of his cock, your fingers go deeper into Ellaria.

It’s a beautiful mess.

You’re not sure how thin the walls are, you hope that they’re thick. You mentally apologize to the neighbors if not because none of you are making an effort to keep quiet. Ellaria grinds to meet your fingers, meanwhile, Oberyn’s cock is splitting you into two. His pace is brutal, you feel your skin rippling as his hips snap into you. Honestly, you’re not even trying to move your hand anymore, it’s all Oberyn—So technically, he’s fucking two people at once.

Suddenly you find yourself being shoved into Ellaria’s delectable cunt, Oberyn pushes you down, blunt nails biting into your scalp. With a groan, you once again close your lips around her clit and suck. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, then gently —almost fearfully due to the harsh grind of Oberyn’s hips— you graze your teeth.

Ellaria cries out, a sound that takes you by surprise. Between wet eyelashes, you watch as her face contorts in pleasure, her walls squeezing your fingers tight. Her clit throbs against your tongue and just like that, she’s gushing heavily into your mouth. Oberyn’s movements slow, his brutal pace becoming a lazy one as his cock massages your walls. You have a feeling he’s watching her as well.

Noticing that she’s crying out both your names, your pulse quickens.

You pull out your fingers and hold her hips, wet streaks glisten on top of her sun-kissed skin. Burying your mouth deep within her folds, you allow your tongue to lick the remains. Another, more gentle, orgasm washes over her, the cries from before becoming sighs of languid pleasure.

“Good girl,” Oberyn growls, his hand becomes a necklace around your neck and he hauls you up. He shoves his lips against your ear, the tremor of his voice making you tremble. “You know, I’ve never seen her come quite that hard with the others. She must like you a lot, pet.”

fuckfuckfuck

The way he rolls his tongue as he says it, pet—you don’t expect it to affect you that much but it does, your entire body tenses, his cock easing in and out of you even faster thanks to the way you gush around him.

“You like that?”

Shit, he noticed.

“I—I—”

He grabs your chin and clashes your lips in a bruising kiss. Oberyn leaves you breathless, your lungs convulse, burning with the lack of oxygen. You taste a hint of yourself on his tongue.

“Our sweet pet,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re stunning like this, all fucked out.”

Oberyn kisses you once more then turns to Ellaria with a smile, “I can still taste you on her tongue.”

“I would think so. She was quite thorough,” she teases, her gaze fixed on you.

Ellaria touches herself slowly as Oberyn resumes his brutal pace. Wet noises flood the dimly lit room, Oberyn buries his face where your neck meets your shoulder. You feel the softness of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth. Your loins burn.

Oberyn dangles you on the edge of a cliff. Every time you’re close to your release, he slows his hips into a gentle roll, only to build you up again. Ellaria simply watches, gently drawing tender circles while Oberyn toys with you. Their pet.

“Please,” you beg. “I want to come.”

You sound teary and embarrassed. Oberyn kisses your neck. “You have been good,” he murmurs, eyes moving to Ellaria. “What do you say?”

“Let her come,” she sighs, smiling. “Make it feel good for her, Oberyn.”

Oberyn makes a sound of eager approval. His one hand slips between your legs as the other grasp your breast, keeping your sweat-soaked body flush against him. His fingers draw tight, quick circles around your clit as he presses into you, hips smacking against your flesh over and over.

It doesn’t take you long after that.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck—hell, it hits you like a train. It’s violent, intense. Every muscle grows taut and your skin tingles as if it’s burned. You can’t even cry out properly, your mouth wide in a silent scream. Something warm trickles down your thighs, and if it wasn’t for Oberyn’s constant, steady praise in your ear you would’ve been embarrassed. But instead, you just slump against him. Your body feeling limp as if you might never be able to stand again. He rolls his hips, and each time waves of pleasure wash over you, it’s not as intense, but it feels amazing.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

Your nod is followed by a hiss when he does, the sudden lack of him making you feel empty, and frankly, a little bit sad. However, you don’t get the chance to linger on the feeling as Oberyn guides you toward the empty spot next to Ellaria.

She holds you in a tight embrace, whispering praise into your hair. Oberyn shuffles until he’s behind her, his arm draped over her waist. His cock is still hard and heavy between his legs, glistening with your slick.

You ask weakly to Oberyn, “What about you?”

“Always so thoughtful,” Ellaria purrs. She throws her arm back, pulling Oberyn close by the neck. He kisses a delicate path up that follows the curve of her neck. “You don’t need to worry about him. Just relax. . . and enjoy yourself.”

When Oberyn sinks into her, you understand why Ellaria was so eager to watch your expression.

You stare into the small bathroom mirror above the sink, the light irritating your eyes. You’re fresh out of the shower, naked, still dripping, the drops warm as it slides down your skin. Ellaria’s reflection comes into view, also naked, her hands delicately moving over your body, examing to see if you’re hurt anywhere.

“How do you feel?” she asks, satisfied with her examination.

“I’m fine,” you answer dismissively, still staring at your reflection. You feel detached, your limbs slow and tenderly aching.

Oberyn squeezes a tub of minty toothpaste over the bristles of your brush and holds your chin. Instinctively, you turn to him. He gently pinches your jaw. You open your mouth.

He starts to brush your teeth. This man you just met, this man who just railed the ever-living shit out of you. . . is tenderly brushing your teeth. You taste the mint and without meaning to, you wrinkle your nose. He laughs.

“It’ll be over soon.”

The thing that makes you tear up is how delicate they are with you. It’s unexpected. They don't think you’re invincible just from your looks. They see that you’re broken, see that you want to be taken care of. And they humor you, treating you as you wish to be treated, without you having to say so.

They touch you as if you are a glass rose. It makes your chest ache.

“I think I have ointment somewhere,” Ellaria mutters to herself, turning on her heel and looking over the shelves. “It will soothe your skin.”

The small sniffle you make goes unnoticed by Ellaria but not Oberyn. With a raised eyebrow, he pulls out the toothbrush. “Rinse,” he says simply. He turns on the faucet for you and you fill your mouth with water. You swish it around. Then look to him before doing anything else. “Spit.”

You watch as the foamy water goes down the drain. You straighten back up, watching the reflections that dance in the mirror once more. You feel his eyes on you but you’re too flustered to answer his gaze. Ellaria holds a small container of ointment, when she sees your expression her brows furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, not truly knowing the answer yourself. Oberyn opens the faucet again and rinses the toothbrush. After placing it back, he brushes his lips over yours, the gesture sparking life back into your body. “I don’t know,” you then say. “It just feels all so nice, I’m not used to. . . I don’t know, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ellaria says, opening the small container. She takes a hefty amount with two fingers and rubs it into the tender skin of your asscheeks. “It’s normal. You haven’t been feeling well lately, and it’s common to feel a bit of a drop after.”

“Is it really?” you ask.

Oberyn answers you instead, “It is. You’ll feel much better when we’re back in bed when you’re between us.”

Ellaria nods and you manage to smile. With a soft chuckle, you shake your head. “You two are too nice to me.”

“The bare minimum shouldn’t be surprising you this much,” Oberyn’s gaze softens. “But we’ll fix that.”

As the two guide you back to the bedroom, you believe they will.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell x fem!reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #ellaria sand x reader #ellaria sand x f!reader #ellaria sand x fem!reader #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfic #oberyn martell fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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avocad1s · 1 year

Text

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Summary: It’s been five hundred years since the people of Teyvat celebrated the return of their Creator. Oh what a joyous day that was! However there was something off with the Divine One, had they always acted like this? Not only that, being in their presence didn’t bring the same warmth it did all those centuries ago, but to go against their creator is the highest form of treason they could commit. So when another shows up sharing the exact face as the one on the throne, many are conflicted on who to follow.

Characters Featured: Multiple Characters Mentioned

Note: Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You’ve been warned.

Part one (You are here!) Part Two

This is not beta read. So I apologize for any mistakes.

For the first time in decades, six of the archons stood in the same room.

It was an odd occurrence, most of them preferred to stay in their respective nations, the only time they would all meet up like this is if something dire was occurring.

One of these occasions was when the Divine One descended down to Teyvat, it was a day to remember for everyone. Celebrations went on for weeks, many hoping that the Creator would acknowledge them with a vision, mora, or even a simple glance. However, blinded by their own excitement, the people of Teyvat didn’t notice how… off the Creator was. Well, besides the ones who are considered to be the closest to them.

…

“We’ve all noticed that Their Grace has been acting a bit different ever since they returned,”

“Well they have been away for a while, maybe they need time to adjust?”

“That can’t be it, they’ve already been here for centuries. They would’ve adjusted by now.”

“Even though I never met them personally before they returned, anytime they are in Sumeru they are nothing like the scriptures say.”

“Maybe the Divine One is acting off due to what happened to…”

The room falls silent.

“Was there any response from the Cryo archon?”

“No she had locked down her nation years ago, nothing goes in and nothing comes out. Except for the Fatui… Mor- Zhongli, do you think that she knew something before the rest of us?”

“It is possible, but we cannot say for certain. Yet, we cannot act without knowing the truth.”

“I agree, acting with only suspicion rather than proof would be foolish.”

“So what do we do?”

“For now we do nothing, eventually something will come to light.”

Present Day

The heat in the desert of Sumeru was unforgiving, you could get caught in a sandstorm or if you do not bring enough supplies that could also be the end for you. So it was only natural that when the Traveler and her floating companion noticed someone passed out in the sand, they would rush over to help.

“Hey Traveler…” Paimon begins, “look at their clothes, it’s not like anything we’ve seen before.”

The girl looks down at the unconscious person. Paimon was right, they weren’t wearing any type of clothing that indicated that they were from any nation in Teyvat.

Not to mention the sudden comforting feeling the girl had gotten once she had approached them. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her and her brother were still traveling worlds together.

“Let’s wake them up.”

It took more shakes and taps than the Traveler was expecting but soon their eyes open and they sit up slowly, sand falling off of their body with every movement.

“Are you okay?” The Traveler asks.

They let out a soft groan turning to look at the girl and her companion.

“Where am I?” Were the first words to leave their mouth.

“Sumeru’s desert!” Paimon says, “erm, do you not remember how you got here? Traveler, maybe we should bring this person to Tighnari, they seem to be a bit disoriented.”

Without realizing it, the Traveler ignores Paimon keeping all of her attention on the mysterious person still sitting in the warm sand. She holds her hand out, “here let me help you up.” They take the Travelers hand standing up on their feet, dusting the leftover sand off their clothing.

The Traveler continues to keep their gaze locked on them while they dust off their clothing. Noticing her friends odd behavior, Paimon clears her throat and begins talking.

“Well this is Lumine, but everyone just calls her the Traveler. Paimon is Paimon.” The fairy gestures to her friend then to herself. “What’s your name?”

They hesitate for a moment before saying their name, “thank you Paimon and Lumine for waking me, there’s no telling what could’ve happened if you didn’t.”

Lumine feels a warmth bloom in her chest at their kind words.

“It’s not problem, the Traveler is always happy to help!” Paimon says happily, “but Paimon has to ask, why are you unconscious in the desert anyway?”

“I don’t… I can’t remember. The last thing I remember seeing was a blinding light.”

Paimon and Lumine exchange glances.

“Well if you want, you can tag along with us to Sumeru city, we have some really smart friends who may be able to help you there.” Lumine offers.

They smile, “thanks but I don’t want to intrude on your journey.”

“Oh you’re not intruding! The Traveler and Paimon we’re already heading to the city to meet the Creator!”

Lumine shoots the fairy a dirty look causing her to shrink back apologizing while also whispering something about how she wasn’t supposed to say that.

However they had already perked up at the mention of the Divine. “The Creator?”

Lumine lets out a defeated breath, “we weren’t supposed to say anything…” she glances at her companion, “but the Creator has finally granted me an audience.”

“Yeah the Travelers been asking for ages to meet them but the creator has always refused until she helped the Dendro Archon.”

Paimon gets another, less noticeable glare thrown her way.

“I see…” They began, “you must be something pretty special to meet someone like them.”

There was a small silence.

“Well we should probably get a move on, we shouldn’t keep someone this important waiting!”

———

The walk back to Sumeru City was awkward to say the least. It seems that ever since the Creator was brought up in the conversation, Lumine and Paimons new friends seemed to be more closed off than before. Maybe they were apart of the few that didn’t blindly worship the Creator? Or maybe they’re using this tactic to hold back their jealousy? Lumine wasn’t sure but she’d rather not know.

Soon enough the city was visible from where they were standing, it would only be another twenty minute hike until they reached the entrance.

“I hope that walk wasn’t too bad for you considering your condit-“

Lumine pauses mid-sentence, they were gone? Just a minute ago they were behind them and now they were nowhere to be seen.

“Paimon didn’t even hear them wander off, I hope they’re okay…” The fairy says worriedly. Lumine nods but continues forward, if they had left on their own then it was clear they could handle themselves. The Traveler just hopes that nothing bad happens to them and she hopes to see them again.

You didn’t feel bad ditching the two girls.

After all that wasn’t the worse thing you did to them today.

You lied to them multiple times, maybe the only true thing you told the two was your name, but it didn’t matter.

As soon as you laid eyes on the girl, you knew she wasn’t from this world. Maybe that’s why you didn’t feel that bad lying to her? Or maybe you’re just lying to yourself.

Truthfully, you only followed them after they had brought up the Creator.

Ah yes, the “Creator”

The was the main reason why you returned after all this time in the first place.

You were aware that they had crowned another as the Creator when it first happened five hundred years ago, and you would’ve returned then and extinguished them, but you were still mourning the loss of one of your nations. Then it simply slipped your mind. Until now, when Teyvat has cried out to you once more.

You can’t keep neglecting your creation, especially since you care about it deeply.

Now of course you could’ve just bursted in the room that the usurper was in and defeated them right then and there but you wanted more information.

How did they pass off as you so easily? More importantly, how did anyone believe it?

Sure there’s a chance they may look like you but there’s no way they could replicate your power or your connection to the world itself.

You huff hiding behind a tree watching the two girls look around for you before eventually giving up heading towards the city.

This was going to take more effort than you thought.

The first thing Lumine noticed when she entered the dark room was the sheer coldness. She couldn’t see them at the top of the stairs but the presence of being in the room with them was already overwhelming.

She was in the room with the Creator.

Despite all the questions she had, her throat felt dry, like she couldn’t talk or rather, she didn’t have permission yet.

The girl kneels before them locking her gaze on the ground, she was slightly disappointed that she wasn’t the only one in the room. There were many Sages in the room and even Nahida was off to the side giving her a welcome smile.

“Traveler…” a voice brakes through the silence causing Lumine to tense, “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m honored to be before you,” she stutters. Why did she feel like this? She met four Gods already, but why did she feel so tense around them? Like she had to watch her words carefully or something bad may happen.

“Please come here,” their voice calls out.

Lumine stands up shakily walking slowly towards the stairs, she keeps her gaze lowered as she walks up slowly. Soon enough she was right in front of the Creator. The girl goes to kneel once more but she stops when another order comes instead.

“Will you look at me?”

A audible gasp leaves the Travelers mouth as she stares out their face. This was the first time the Traveler had ever been face-to-face with them ever, although their elegance was undeniable their face was unmistakably the same as the person in the desert.

Without realizing Lumine mutters out the name of the person she had met just a few hours before.

Now it was time for everyone else to gasp.

A plethora of snide remarks and comments were thrown at the girl, many yelling out how dare she calls the creator by their true name or how she needs to show more respect.

The creator holds out a hands and the room immediately goes silent.

“Traveler,” their voice sickly sweet. “How are you aware of my true name?”

The blonde fiddles with her fingers for a moment, “Someone in the desert had told me that was their name. They had the same face as you.”

Their eyes widen but quickly relax as they uncross their legs to stand and approach the outlander.

“Are you telling me you saw someone running around with my face and my name?”

Lumine nods.

They rest a hand on the blonde girls shoulder giving her a soft smile.

“Where is this person now?”

Lumine shakes her head, “I’m not sure, they disappeared before I got to the city.”

They nod, “don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just want you to find this person for me and bring them here, okay?”

Words fail her and she nods at their request.

“Great. You may leave.”

———

Lumine lets out a deep breath once she was out of the room. Just being in that room made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Traveler!” Paimon floats over to her friend, “how did it go? Do they know anything about the unknown God you’re looking for?”

“They had the same face.”

“Huh?”

“The Divine One and the person in the desert.” Lumine clarifies, “they had the same face and name.”

“How’s that possible?”

The Traveler decides to stay silent, she didn’t know either and now she was tasked on finding this person and bringing them here.

“Lumine!” A voice calls out.

She turns around relaxing visibly once she meets their gaze. It was Nahida.

“Oh Nahida! It’s been a while, how’s the Wanderer?”

The Dendro Archon smiles, “he’s perfectly fine but that’s not why I approached you.”

Lumine was completely aware why the Archon decided to approach her, she was in the room when she had her ‘outburst’ with the Creator.

“You had said you saw someone who looked exactly like Their Grace, right? I was wondering if I could tag along with you in finding them.”

Lumine raises a brow, “really? You want to tag along?”

“Let’s just say I have my own suspicions…” Nahida says. “Now, where was the last place you had seen them?”

Note: Well if you made it this far that means you must’ve read all that way to the end, so thanks for that! I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes, my english is :P but I’m trying!

I know that everyone has written something for the imposter au of sagau but this has been in my head for weeks and i finally decided I wanted to put it into words and post it. I’m not sure how well it will do, or how good it even is… but yeah… :>

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin sagau #sagau lumine #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au

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parvulous-writings · 4 months

Note

Did you get another request? It's headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to his shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected. Thanks!

Okay I DID get the original request, but accidentally published it when I meant to put it in my drafts, apologies! I'd like to thank the Down By The River Music Box Version for giving me the focus I needed to do this in one sitting! XD Also these three are my BOYS I LOVE THEM

Warnings: None! (besides fluff)

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Before you even start the conversation with him about liking him, Astarion knows what this is going to be about. He just knows - he's been through this enough times to recognise that look on your face.

It's an easy conclusion to come to - to him, it's a thought of... 'who doesn't like him?' He's hardly known someone that he couldn't tempt, one way or another.

As you approach him, his lips are already curling up into that familiar sultry smile of his. He knows exactly how he wants to play this: "Well, well... If it isn't my favourite travelling companion... What brings you to my tent, my dear?"

You feel your cheeks burn as soon as he opens his mouth, your gaze casting aside as the words hit your ears. He always seems to know how to take someone's breath away.

You blurt out your confession as fast as your lips can manage, nothing more than a mash of words, hardly understandable - but Astarion understands with ease. He's been through this a lot, he knows the dance all too well. Before he can let a chuckle leave his throat, you're gone, leaving naught but a cloud of dust in your wake.

Nevertheless, had you been within earshot of the elf, you would have heard a rather dry laugh from his lips. To have someone turn tail from him, it's new. Something about the situation speaks to him though - it shows that, even after he's seen two hundred years of nothing but shadows and debauchery, there's still innocence in the realms. And he sees that it lives on in you. It's almost... endearing to him. Almost. Unfortunately it takes a lot to make his undead heart stir, anymore.

Unlike most, Astarion doesn't chase after you - he doesn't even consider it. In his past, he's never been one to chase after someone who likes him, he's always a magnet for them. He stays comfortably in his tent, eagerly awaiting your return. He knows you will, no matter how shy you are, or how long it takes.

Such a sweet thing... I'm sure they'll come around to speaking more openly eventually. Astarion's thoughts echo all that he knows from his past - one way or another, those who are charmed by him come back; though, he must admit, he does quite like the idea of playing this little game with you, whether you realise you are playing or not.

Gale

Gale doesn't really label your timid nature or actions as 'shyness', he sees it much more as an air or aura of mystique about you - which he absolutely loves. His scholarly instinct tells him to dive in, to explore all there is about you, and to uncover all of your mysteries. However, he knows you are your own person - if you wish to tell him any secrets you have, he's going to let you do so mostly at your own pace, only nudging or prompting once or twice.

When you approach him one evening, he's so over the moon to tell you about something he's recently figured out, relating to a problem you've been trying to solve outside of camp, that he doesn't initially notice the rather skittish demeanour you've adopted. He's so quick to launch into his little pre-planned speech that he hardly notices you talking to him, until you've already run halfway back to your own tent.

Gale just... Stands there, in stunned - almost offended - silence. Had he done something? Was it his recent discovery? Had he launched into it too quickly - given you too much information all at once? All these thoughts go through his head one after the other. He hadn't even caught what you had said, and that worried him the most: He had no clue whatsoever what you had said to him.

So it isn't long before he's practically marching towards your tent - determination in his eyes. He will find out what you had tried to tell him. He clears his throat to get your attention when he gets close enough, folding his arms over his chest in a rather defensive position. "I suppose you have a reason for running off like that whilst speaking to me?" He questions, quite tensely. As you begin to shakily explain your feelings for him, his arms drop to his sides again.

He's very pleasantly surprised to learn that the only reason you ran off mid-conversation was due to embarrassment, rather than anything that he had done. He would hardly have been able to live with himself if that particular question had gone unanswered. So, he settles himself down in front of you. "Alright.. How about we try this again... With you having my full attention this time?"

Halsin

Halsin could tell by the look on your face that whatever you wanted to tell him, it was important. Of course, true to his nature, he wasn't about to force it out of you - he's much more content for you to take your time in telling him.

So, he just sits with you, in a peaceful silence, waiting for you to work up your courage to ask him. And when you finally do, Halsin can't say he's shocked by the words - it's not always easy to hide attraction or love from someone who's been alive for over three centuries. What does surprise him, however, is the fact that you're so quick to flee the encounter. Though, he finds it quite sweet that you, unlike him, still have embarassment hinging around socialising - particularly when it is centering around matters of the heart. He doesn't think any less of you for it, a skill like that takes years of practice, and he's had three hundred and fifty years to hone this skill of his.

Throughout all his life, and his many lovers, this kind of thing has happened to him only a handful of times, so it still catches him off-guard most of the time. Thankfully, he knows how to handle the situation.

He gives you some time to yourself, allowing you to collect your thoughts. He knows that if he tries to approach you too quickly, you may become more frazzled, spiral more in your mind. And that is the last thing he wants. If you two are to be with one another - which he hopes is the outcome of the situation - he wants you to have a clear head, and know what you want.

When he does decide it's the right time to go to you, the first thing he does, is ask if you are alright. "How are you faring, my heart?" He takes a chance with the nickname, and he can just about see with the way your head whips round to look at him that he's certainly caught your attention. "You seemed... Out of yourself, before. Perhaps you would like to discuss it?" He moves to sit with you then, and even as he kneels , he towers over most. "At your own pace, of course..." He offers you a smile. It's a kindhearted smile - one that you can tell is straight from his heart. You feel a little more comfortable, and though it is a slow conversation, you get there before dawn.

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morallygreyyn · 5 months

Note

Hey! I recently saw your work with hcs of the hxh boys and loved it! Wanted to ask if you could do a Hanahaki disease short story with Kurapika except it's the other way around where the reader has the disease. Reader tries to hide it from him but he eventually finds out because of how close they are as friends, if you're comfortable with this request >~<

hanahaki disease with the hxh boys (pt. 2) (kurapika, hisoka, illumi headcanons)

authors note: hi hi! i decided to do this request for all the hxh boys and not just kurapika! i hope that's ok anon!

warnings: mentions of death

this is part two of my hanahaki disease headcanons! you can read part one here where the boys have the disease!

requests are open! please read my rules!

wow

the poor boy gets very distressed when you just suddenly disappear

you don't answer his calls

you don't answer the door

he doesn't see you anywhere

it's like you just vanished into thin air

little did he know, you're dying

and it's because of him

when the first petal fell from your lips, you knew immediately what it was...and who it was for

you weren't sad that kurapika didn't love you back, you knew he didn't

he was much too focused on his goals, and you didn't want to distract him from his purpose

it was what had kept him going for the longest time after all

and you were honoured to have helped him

but now you were dying and you didn't want kurapika to know

knowing kurapika like the back of your hand, you knew how to hide from him

and so, you holed yourself away in a rundown apartment, letting the hanahaki disease slowly claim your body

kurapika is frantic at this point

he has searched high and low for you to no avail

he even enlisted the help of leorio, killua, and gon to find you

with the dream team assembled, it was only a matter of time until they tracked you down

the boys allowed kurapika to see you alone, not wanting to intrude where they were not welcome

although they were delighted to know that you were still alive

but only just

kurapika knows just by the petal soaked floor what is happening, and he rushes to your side

"who is it?" he asks, dumbfounded that you were dying of unrequited love

who wouldn't love you?

you had stood steadfast by his side time and time again, even when he thought you wouldn't

never once did you walk away

never once did you think of him as a burden

you stood by him, had helped him

he couldn't lose you

not you

"what can I do?" he pleaded, clasping your hand in his own

"there is nothing." you whispered, voice scratchy and hoarse from coughing

"tell me who it is, I'll find them."

"you already have."

"Leorio?"

"no, you idiot, it's you." you teased playfully, knowing that kurapika was anything but stupid

"you're dying because of me?"

"it's okay." you managed to smile at him, happy that he would be with you in your final moments

"I don't understand, why are you dying?"

"you know the myth, you know why."

"I do know the myth, which is why I don't know." kurapika too a break, smoothing back your hair from your forehead. "because I love you too."

it was almost miraculous how quickly the disease cleared from your lungs

you could suddenly breathe again

"really?" you almost didn't dare to believe it

"of course I do." he confirmed, before pulling you into a long awaited embrace

ok so hisoka is a tough one

he would know about the hanahaki disease

so he would know the signs

why you fell in love with hisoka was an utter mystery to you

you don't even know how it had happened

you had been friends and partners in crime with the man for as long as you could remember

but love? that seemed farfetched

until it wasn't

it began as a small cough, a light tickle in the back of your throat that acted as a warning that the worst was yet to come

you brushed it off, nothing thinking much of it until a petal fell into your hand

your eyes widened once you saw it, you had heard of the myth before during your travels

you knew what was coming

at first you didn't realise that it was hisoka you loved

who was the poor idiot who had won your heart? who were you about to die for?

you were sure to give them hell before you left this world, perhaps even bring them with you to the afterlife

how dare they end your life

only, your coughing grew worse once you saw hisoka again

with his catlike eyes and twisted grin

ah, that was the poor idiot

you knew the likelihood of hisoka every having feelings for you was slim to none, and the fact that you had developed the hanahaki disease was proof of that

unfortunately for you, hisoka was rather astute and noticed that you seemed sick

"don't tell me my favourite person has come down with the sniffles?"

"of course not."

you would avoid him after that, you didn't want him to see you weak

and you certainly didn't want him to find out that you loved him

so you hid, hoping that your death would be swift

hisoka noticed your absence, and he found himself not liking it one bit

you were the one who he enjoyed teasing, and who teased him in return

you were, as much as he was shocked to realise, rather close to him

remembering that you had seemed unwell the last time he had saw you, hisoka began to wonder whether your illness was serious

given the fact that you had disappeared unannounced, he began to think that there was something you were hiding

there is nothing hisoka loves more than a game

and you had unintentionally presented him with a great one

he tracked you down to a quiet forest of all places, surrounded by a field of red petals

hey, if you're hisoka's friend, you're going to be quite dramatic like he is

"my, my, this is quite the scene." he grinned as he approached, before seeing how pale you looked, the blood around your mouth, and the fact that you weren't moving

looking closer at the petals, he could see that they were red because of the dried blood that had stained them

oh, you had the hanahaki disease

considering the fact that you had left him without a word, he came to the correct conclusion

he wasn't an idiot, you clearly loved him

and you were dying

usually, hisoka enjoyed the idea of death but seeing you before him, basically in the afterlife, his perception of it drastically changed

he approached your body, narrowed eyes closely observing the stunted rise and fall of your chest, hearing the shallowness of your breaths

bringing his lips to your ear, hisoka whispered, "you really are quite dramatic, y/n, this is almost too much."

his fingers danced over your chapped lips

"what would you have me do, hm?"

his touch lightly trailed over your closed eyelids

"how unnecessary, considering the fact that I also love you."

it took a little while for you to regain consciousness

when you did, you found hisoka grinning at you

you also found him holding your hand

oh, you were both idiots

ok so lets just feed into the delusion for a sec that illumi would have the emotional capacity to love someone and actually admit it out loud

i refuse to write sad shit ok

so you love illumi

you had felt the emotion grow the more time you spent with the stoic assassin

it was no surprise when you realised you had developed the hanahaki disease

in fact, you had almost suspected it

once you realised you had loved illumi, it was only a matter of time before you died from it

there was no way someone as emotionally stunted as the eldest Zoldyck sibling would ever feel something remotely close to love, especially in the romantic department, especially for you

you knew him too well, you had been working with him for the longest time

ever since you first laid eyes on him, he was stuck with you

you followed him around, not bothering him enough for him to kill you, but just enough to get to know him

or, more accurately, for him to know you

illumi had grown used to you stubbornly following him around

he had grown to expect your endless chatter that often filled the void of silence

he had grown used to your constant presence

you knew he didn't mind, he had never sent you away

perhaps he was lonely and you fixed that

however, now that you were dying because of him, you had a choice to make

either, you could leave and die in peace, or you could tell him and see whether that would kill you faster

if you chose to hide, it would take him a matter of seconds to track you down - it was his job after all

if you chose the latter, you would mention it briefly, just to see how he would react

either way, the conversation would be the same

"by the way, I'm not going to be around for much longer, so you'll have to do that without me."

"where are you going?"

"to the most mysterious land of all." you smiled, wanting to make a joke out of your upcoming demise. "I have a date with the grim reaper."

illumi was perhaps the most confused you had ever seen him before

you had gone mad - what on earth were you talking about?

"what?"

"I'm dying, illumi." as if on cue, a coughing fit quickly swept through you, and a whole flower fell into your hand. you presented him with the bloodied bloom. "see?'

illumi has never heard of the hanahaki disease before

looking closer at you, he was ever so slightly perturbed to realise that you certainly looked unwell

"you just coughed up a flower."

"well spotted."

"how are you dying?"

you sighed, realising you would have to spell it out for him. "it's called the hanahaki disease, and it is a curse everyone suffering from unrequited love dreads."

"you love someone?"

you laughed darkly, here goes nothing

"you."

if you thought illumi looked confused before, that was nothing compared to now

"me?'

"is that so hard to believe?"

illumi couldn't fathom what he was hearing

someone loved him?

you loved him?

it sounded utterly ridiculous

but there you were, dying before his very eyes

"I don't understand."

"what don't you understand?"

"why are you dying?"

"I just told you why."

he stared at you blankly, black eyes boring into yours. "then the myth is wrong."

"what are you...?" you trailed off, not daring to hope what he might be implying. "do you love me?"

illumi didn't respond, and you didn't know whether he had the capability of admitting the words aloud

despite this, that was good enough for the disease to immediately clear from your lungs

and you took a deep breath to fill them again

gone was the pain, the heaviness, the urge to cough

"you love me." you looked at him again, filled with more hope than ever before

it wasn't a question this time

you knew illumi loved you, in his own special way

you dared to kiss him, and illumi allowed it despite his utter shock

that’s how you knew he meant it

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Text

A Village Raising (2) | Yandere Platonic Twisted Wonderland

Yuuka silently cooed at the sight of precious little (Y/n) sleepily clutching at a sleeping Grim. She no doubt hit the jackpot. Having such an adorable little sibling gifted to her by the mysterious summoning of the mirror. It was a nightmarish thought: that you’d one day return to someone who couldn’t love you like she did. But it was soothed by the reminder that more than likely those at Night Raven would never allow for that to happen.

“Mmm Yuu? Mmm C’mere.”

“Yes baby? You ready to wake up, maybe help me cook?”

“Mmmm today I-mmm g’to work…don’t I?”

“Ahhh, yeah.”

She sighed as she recalled the way you came to a revelation, of course spurred by Grim’s whining, that you needed to work to get more tuna. She wasn’t even sure you understood the topic of currency but nonetheless you wouldn’t stop yapping about it to her and Yuuken.

“Can-I get ready for work?” Your little voice spoke so clearly, having fully-woken up at the excitement from the thought. She couldn’t bring herslef to relay the hard truth about the workforce. Surely Azul wouldn’t torture a little angel such as yourself!

“Yes of course baby!”

“Yay!”

Sending a groggy Grim to pester her fellow prefect Yuuka busied herself with helping you into the mini uniform Jade delivered not long after her baby’s declaration. How he knew your measurements she wasn’t sure but then again why ask when all he’d do is smile cryptically.

“Already into the workforce I can’t believe how old I’ve gotten.”

Yukken mockingly held his face in his hands as he pretended to cry as you carefully finished descending the stairs with your back turned to him, slowly making your way down the steps. With both your feet safely on the ground you waddled over to the ‘crying’ giant.

“Ken-Ken is okay! I’ll be back after a hardsday work.”

Patting his pant leg, you waited until he bent down to your level. Giving a firm hug with your little body, he sent a worried look over your shoulder. Yuuka could only huff out her nose in stifled worry. She wasn’t trying to ignore her worry of letting you out of their watchful eyes. Pulling out her phone she sucked her teeth as the clock ticked closer to the designated time. Time for her final instructions before sending you into a battlefield.

“Alright (Y/n) now listen to me, you can’t sign or write anything while you’re there okay?”

“Hmmhmm.”

“(Y/n) are you listening to me.”

You continued to fiddle with the locks of your backpack briefcase before turning to the crouched Yuuka.

You kissed her cheek and in a voice imitating a character from your tv-shows you said,”Don’t worry Honey. I’ll be home soon, take care of the kids for me.”

The knock on the Ramshackle door had you skipping in its direction. Already beaten by Yuuken who opened the door to none other than the tweels.

“Good morning, Prefect.”

“Hiya shrimpies! Where’s the little business eel!”

“Here I am!” You squealed, running past Yuuken’s legs to be scooped into Floyd’s awaiting arms. Immediately abandoning your working persona you enjoyed the way Floyd playfully pretended to chomp at your cheeks.

“Remember, (Y/n)! No signing anything!”

“Weee-ah okay!”

You spoke breathlessly as the eel mer caught you from your descent from the sky, shouting from over his shoulder as he was already trotting away. Yuuka sighed again, turning her gaze to Jade who happily accepted the little bento box Yuuken had made.

“Back by sundown.”

“Yes, yes it will be before nightfall. Otherwise the doting parents will stay awake and worried until then.”

“Jade!”

“I jest I jest. We’ll see you later.”

With that the vice-warden went on his way catching up to the waiting Floyd before traveling over to the school’s hall.

_______________________________________________________

“We’re back!”

“Hi hi, Azul!”

The dorm leader couldn’t help but genuinely smile as he saw you in your mini-Monstro-uniform.

“Morning (Y/n), ready start your first day of work?”

“Yup!”

“Then follow me, to the kitchen.”

You did just that skipping beside Jade who stopped at the kitchen.

“This where we make all the drinks and food for everyone. And your job is to take whatever we make to the customers.”

“Okay!”

“How about we practice, okay (Y/n)?”

“Yes, yes!”

In no time at all you were handed a smaller tray and told to not spill as a plastic cup of water was placed on its center. Azul went to the far end of the kitchen along with Floyd who anxiously awaited your wobbly and shaky journey. Jade originally planned to only keep his hand on your back from where he was originally standing but he decided to follow along as he watched the water jiggle dangerously in the glass.

“W-woah!”

“It’s alright I’m right here. Take your time.”

“This is really h’rd.”

“It’s okay you’re doing great.” Azul chimed in, eagerly awaiting you to reach his side. Both Floyd and Azul anxiously leaning in tandem as you tilted dangerously to one side. The dorm leader did his best to keep his mouth shut as he quantified more than 50% of the water on the checkered floor or coagulating at the bottom of the tray.

“How’d I do Mis’er Bossman?”

Smiling up at him with sparkling (y/e/c) eyes–only one decision was clear.

“You did perfect. We are happy to have you work with us at Monstro Lounge.”

He’d have to remember to account for the smaller amount of the drink.

“Yay! Hear that Floyd, I’m hired!”

“YES, I knew you could do it-mini eel! Now I can give you the little apron!”

Or maybe he’d just upsell it anyway.

“Jade, do I get to cut my hair too!”

“Sorry (Y/n), I’m sure all three of the prefects would have my head then.”

“Awww.”

“But I do have a hat you can wear.”

“Yay! Gimme gimme.”

___________________________________________________

“What in the Seven’s is everyone getting so worked up about?”

Ace groaned and sucked his teeth as if Deuce was the stupidest man on the planet. His friend was already frowning at the action but still waited nonetheless. Ace began to smirk as he casually followed the crowd.

“Pft you don’t know? There’s a special event going on in the Monstro Lounge. With a special edition menu too.”

Deuce gawked as he tensed up. “Then we’ve got to get going! By the time we arrive…”

He trailed off as Ace continued to smirk while shaking his head.

“I had an inside scoop and got us reservations ahead of time.”

“Whoa, that’s real nice of you Ace.”

“Yeah yeah you just got to pay for whatever I get!”

“And that’s the Ace I know.”

The two Heartslabyul first years took their time to the mirror hall. Avoiding the crowd fighting to become a line, Ace flashed an email on his phone to the intimidating guards of Monstro Lounge, where they directed the duo into a specially gated section.Sitting in the booth Deuce couldn’t help the pit that formed in his stomach; as if reminding him of his past servitude. He shook the feeling off, sending a questioning look towards his friend, who was busy browsing the menu.

“I’m curious, Ace. How did you afford this?”

Ace faked offense,”What?! You think I can’t get on the list?”

“Not without us, you couldn’t.”

Hearing that familiar country twang, Deuce turned to see the short Pomefiore student: Epel. Sporting a prideful smirk on his face he motioned for Deuce to scooch away to make room for him. Behind him was Jack from Savvannaclaw who was a mix of embarrassment and determination.

“Epel? Jack?”

“Of course this guy didn’t have the energy to wait to get on the waiting list.”

Jack scoffed, “He’s lucky he asked those of us with healthy morning routines.”

“Your morning routine’s start before the sun is out! I No way was I ruining my sleep for that.”

Sooner than they could think they had begun joking and laughing per their usual hangouts. It almost let Deuce forget why they had gotten the reservation.

“Oh, you don’ know do you? Check it.”

Epel handed the menu to Deuce.

“Uhm a Aqua Smoothie a special delivery? A clam cake for special delivery? What is this special delivery that’s bringing up the price?”

Epel and Ace just continued to snicker and laugh at him before arguing about what to order. Which left Jack to sigh and explain.

“For one day only the Monstro Lounge has a very…special employee working. Everyone’s been very excited to cheer them on.”

“Special employee? But who would all the school want to cheer on?

In that moment whispered praise and excited voices start to get louder as the sound of clicking loafers were heard.

In an Octavinelle uniform and a tray small enough for them to hold little (Y/n) hurriedly walking by with a beautifully decorated dessert. The group of four, as well as everyone in the special section quickly pulled out their phones.

“Here’s your scrone, mister!”

“T-t-thank you (Y/n).”

Sooner than everyone would like the little one hobbled back into the kitchen. The crowd collectively awwed before the excited chatter began to start back up again. With a renewed sense of vigor Deuce picked up the menu.

“What should we get? Should we stay away from drinks? I wouldn’t want them to spill.”

Clank!

The sound made him jump as he and his friends looked up at the intimidating faces who so aggressively delivered some waters.

“I assure you our employee is more than capable.”

“Yeah Mackarel. So is your school going to order or would you rather be on the menus yourselves?”

______________________________________________________

Yuuka shook the sleep that plagued her face as she recognized the creaking of the Ramshackle gate. Leaving her other prefects behind, she nearly trampled Grim on the way to the door.

“Finally! The sun’s nearly finished setting!”

She eagerly took the backpack and sleeping child as Jade smiled coyly.

“I did say before nightfall, did I not?”

She scoffed, turning back into the living room where she passed off the backpack to Yuu heading up the stairs.

Yuuken sighed, “Sorry about Yuuka. She’s been anxious all day.”

“I understand the feeling but you shouldn’t worry they had a fun day, a full meal, and lots of work experience.”

Yuuken chuckled. “I bet.”

Jade’s polite smile stretched a bit as though he remembered something, calling Floyd he snatched a container from his brothers clutches. Turning back to Yuuken he delivered the tupperware to him.

“Of course (Y/n) couldn’t finish our larger portion sizes so I figured I’d package the rest for you all.”

“Oh wow thanks Jade. Ah but this container I’ll empty it now so you can take it back-”

“No need! Whenever you're done just have you and (Y/n) bring it over.Maybe then I can convince Azul to maybe give out a discount.”

“Thanks Jade.”

“No problem.” “Ughghgh can we go now!? It already sucks we’re not sleeping over.”

Jade smile returned to his polite one as he sent a piercing side-eye towards his brother.

“Well we all have responsibilities to put to bed. I’ll see you at the next club meeting.”

“Yeah, see ya then.”

Yuuken watched as the Leech brother’s left with a glaring tension between the two. The prefect could only guess as to what the annoyance was about. With a shrug he closed the door storing the food away.

He could only guess what tales you’d have to tell when you woke the next day. It’s only a shame he couldn’t be there himself. Even though Yuu assured him they’d get photos he wondered who’d they entrusted with the task.

________________________________________________________

The student stood rigid in the heart of the Monstro Lounge, unbothered by the emptiness and the unusually alone dormleader waiting there.

“We here to collect our prize.”

Silver’s monotone voice filled the space. Azul smiled presenting the box filled with horribly shaped pastries,“It’s always a pleasure doing business with Diasomnia.”

Lilia opened the box, smiling happily as he approved of the contents.

“It’s a shame you’re not willing to send the pictures you took of them while baking these. It would have made Malleus so very happy to see their smiling face.”

Azul’s smile twitched. “Well as I’m sure you know, some things are just invaluable.”

Lilia matched his crooked grin with one of his own. “Oh do I know it.”

______________________________________________________________

“Hey Tsunotarou, want to look at the pictures Ace got for me?”

Green eyes lit up with anticipation as though a chest full of treasure had been found.

“I would love to.”

Yuu smiled flipping through the various polaroids of the little server.

Unexpectedly Malleus spoke up, “These memories are very precious.”

Yuu didn’t look up from the photos.

“Right?”

“It’s a shame that they don’t last forever.”

Yuu shrugged. “Yeah but that’s what makes them so special right?”

Malleus tilted his head. “Wouldn’t they be more special if they lasted longer?”

Yuu giggled leaning against his shoulder.

“I’ll let you keep this one if you want it.”

“I would love that.”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x child reader #yanderes x reader #yanderes x child reader

388 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 8 months

Text

Could I Have The McOrgasm, Please? (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You love Loki, but he loves another. You must join Loki on his trip to get Sylvie back by going to the McDonald's she's working at. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside...

Warnings: SMUT AT THE END! NSFW! (Oral, fem receiving, inappropriate uses of Loki's shadow powers, dirty talk, p in v sex). Angst and unrequited (or is it?) love with eventual fluff. Being Anti-Slyki and Anti-Sylvie so if you like the character or pairing you have been warned. This is my indulgent coping method for not getting with a fictional character. Also, as this is published, I don't know what the eff is going to happen in season 2. I just want this out so I can escape to delulu land when canon disappoints me.

Word Count: >8K (phew)

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "I want to have you, btw bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“Yes, she will be there,” Loki confirmed, looking at the restaurant.

You put your hands in your pockets. You were with Loki, Mobius, and a gentleman in a TVA jumpsuit at the McDonalds where Sylvie apparently worked. Just a hop, skip, and jump away. How much you took for granted-just traveling anywhere in space and time. Only, for this place and time was the one place you didn’t want to be. You wished you were anywhere else. A natural disaster, the poorest section of a medieval village, a gladiator tournament, a tuberculosis outbreak in London in the 1870’s-not this.

You didn’t want to watch as the man you loved went to pursue someone else. It was a peaceful place- just a McDonald's in the middle of a regular strip. The sun was gentle. Big clouds drifted in the sky. The birds were singing. You wanted to scream.

You didn’t just like Loki as a friend. You loved Loki- him and only him. Loved him for a long time. Through the misadventures of life in the TVA, you helped him for long hours scouring over files. You ate lunch together. When the little capsules of pies arrived in the cafeteria for the lunch hour’s dessert options, you would pull out one for him and hand it with a smile. And when he cried over seeing what events were supposed to happen, you ran to embrace him.

Then one day he ran into the mysterious Loki variant- as it turned out her name was Sylvie. Just two days later he went missing with her. Then they reappeared. And then they vanished again. Then he reappeared and people were running in a panic.

She left him. Kissed him, killed Kang, and then left him in the dust. But it didn’t occur to Loki that this was a betrayal he should be angry about. You remembered that day. He kept talking about her- until there was one phrase that hit you in the stomach.

“Please Y/N- I love her. Help me…help me find her and fix this!”

You would have preferred to be stabbed.

When he did say he loved her, you simply said “Oh, okay. I will.”

You returned back to your room later that day. Forgetting the chaos and Mobius’s mysterious loss of memory. You sank onto the floor and cried. Cried so hard you couldn’t breathe. Cried so hard and curled up into a ball. Cried so hard you hardly slept for want of crying more.

Even after what she did, he was still talking of her. No. All he could talk of was Sylvie this and Slyvie that. Even with you. Why were you even doing this?

“Uh…I don’t think I should be here…I think I should go back…” you murmured, taking a step back.

“You’re scared…of her? Y/N! You shouldn’t be! She’s incredible, you’ll love her! And you must- you’re the one who remembers what happened!” he insisted.

“What happened?” Mobius asked. The man in the jumpsuit only blinked.

“Y/N…please-I’m nervous…I need the support…” Loki begged at you. His mouth curled into a little frown and his eyes so big they shone like big stars. You held in a breath. Those eyes. Damn, those eyes- like that of a kitten. You wanted to hug him and cuddle him- but you couldn’t.

“Okay…” you voiced.

It was odd-not only being rejected, but being rejected for himself! How the hell would you explain that to a therapist?! The more you thought about it, the more it made you sick. The Spidermans in New York apparently weren’t kissing each other, you heard. You shoved your arms to cross them and continued on. Perhaps if you walked quickly, you could get it over with. Holding your breath, you folded your arms and walked quickly in. Thinking of it like a vaccine- just a little pinch of pain for a brief bit, and then it would be over with.

You stopped inside that bright, yellow building with its bright lights. There was a woman at the counter.

“Is that…” you asked.

Loki’s pale face turned a shade paler. “Yes.”

There you saw her. Not a glance- seeing her. Truly saw her up close. There were only glimpses when she ran around in the TVA. Here, her blonde hair was cut short beneath her cap and her eyes squinted in tired boredom. She smoothed her uniform.

You noticed Loki see her. Frozen in his tracks, his mouth open.

“What are you waiting for?” you pressed.

They kept looking at each other. With a shrug, she moved her eyes forward where a customer showed up to order a McFlurry. Loki blinked and turned to you.

“Does she recognize me?” he asked.

“Go ahead and find out. .” you replied.

“I…I feel like I can’t take another step…” Loki said, his chest falling in shallow breaths.

Mobius waltzed up in front of you guys along with the variant man.

“Well- I myself am starving hungry! Y/N-I bet you are too! Let’s order!” he churruped.

You followed them as Loki stayed a the door. Frozen in place. Mobius gestured to the counter.

“Ladies first!” he chimed.

You stared at her as she finished the last order before you. Drinking in that now your invisible rival had a face. That “Sylvie” wasn’t a wisp of air, a pedestal you could never reach. But flesh and blood. That this was the woman Loki preferred. This was the woman who was Loki. Pale skin and short blonde hair. It seemed damp under her cap. Slender with a long, straight nose and pink lips. Sharp eyes like that of a falcon. Slight grace and ease with how she moved. And you knew from the hundreds of times how Loki boasted of how stupid Sylvie won some stupid fight with a stupid enemy in a stupidly easy manner.

So many words were in there. You knew what she did. How miserable she really made him. After everything he did for her. And no matter if she felt the same or not, her actions did not account for it. What she did to him. The pure misery and despair on your beloved Loki’s face when she left him. The suffering she put him through even if he wasn’t aware of it.

And envy. Yes, you were sick with envy. You hated yourself. You hated yourself because you weren’t her. And yet you hated her too. Only hate was swirling in her stomach. Your mouth stopped, for want of the thousands of things you could have said. The thousands of things you fantasized about saying, or doing. You took in a shaky breath, maybe to start one of them. To finally let it out. To scream at her. Yell in her face. They were there- words forming at you like grey clouds forming a thunderstorm.

She beat you to it.

“Hello, welcome to McDonalds,” she said with a practiced smile.

She did not recognize you. She only gave you a nod and replied dutifully, like she repeated it 1,000 times every day.

“What would you like?” she asked, continuing on like she was an actor saying her lines.

To rip out all of your hair and scalp you until you’re screaming and bloody. You thought bitterly. But you did not say that.

“Could I have the-uh, Quarter pounder and small fries and a fountain drink, please?” you requested.

She nodded with a small smile and tapped into the cash register.

“My pleasure, coming up…” she said.

When you paid, she handed you the receipt. Then all you had to do was wait until the giant screen announced your order was ready. You felt dizzy as Mobius and the new guy ordered their food.

Simple as that. Your motivation failed you. She didn’t know you. If you said or did anything, she would flee and get her manager. You would be known as “that” customer who made food service worker’s lives miserable. A story to be gasped or laughed about. And never showing you sympathetically. Or knowing the stories Loki would boast about her-whip out her own daggers and slice you into ribbons.

You took a step back. Unable to peel her eyes off of her. Imagine her as he would describe- not in a uniform but in tight leather showing a perfect and beautiful slim body. A fighter who could defeat anyone in combat without blinking an eye and who could bring down the whole TVA.

Could you do that? No- you weren’t some fierce, flawless, warrior goddess. No- you were afraid. Vulnerable. That was your curse-she was extraordinary. You were just ordinary.

You began to mentally list your personal insecurities. How could you even compare to her? No wonder Loki worshipped the ground she walked on after she used him as a punching bag. The screen announced your food and another worker handed you a tray with the burger, fries, and cup. That was a clear sign from the universe itself- might as well drown yourself in comfort food.

You noticed Loki finally moved from his place. You couldn’t even watch- not even to get your drink. You grabbed your tray of food and fled to a far corner near the bathrooms. Where you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. You wanted to huddle and hide and make yourself invisible.

Then you heard footsteps- rapidly walking around. You looked up to see who it was. It wasn’t Mobius. It wasn’t even the variant in the tracksuit- You could recognize that peachy ass in those brown office khakis anywhere.

He turned his black curls everywhere as he turned his head to search. Loki went up to you, and then his shoulders relaxed. He even bent a little to meet eyes where you were sitting.

“Y/N, all the way here?” he asked.

You were such a sucker for that face, especially how soft, how sweet he could look. How could you say no to his presence now?

“Uh…yeah,” was all you could say.

As he took a step forward to where you sat, he leaned down, his hands still in his jacket pockets.

“Where were you- I got worried. Maybe someone had attacked you, or took you,” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” you lied as you took a bite of the burger. “Just wanted to sit here-more private.”

He then pulled up to the chair and sat across from you.

“How’s the wedding planning?” you wanted to ask bitterly. You did not. You looked down at your food, then up at him. He sat so casually, so easily. He folded one leg over another and set an arm down. You pulled out your bag of fries. It was so piping hot it hurt a little- but that was how you liked it.

“I’m nervous too, Y/N. I have to tell you…I cried this morning…I know I have to face her. I’ve taken over cities, I’ve battled monsters, but this…this is different…” Loki confessed.

You chewed on a fry instead of replying. Tasting the crispy hot potato flavor. He let out a deep exhale, putting a hand lightly over his mouth.

“What’s wrong with me, Y/N?” he asked.

You wiped the salt onto your pants. The words flowed out of you easily. Too easily.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Loki! You’re the nicest, sweetest, bravest, sexiest being in the whole-”

“What was that last one?” he asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes squinting.

You immediately froze, the fry you were about to eat hung in mid-air. You felt hot with embarrassment.

“You’re the nicest, smartest being in the whole universe!” you said.

Before he could say anything else, you began digging further into those hot fries. “Mmph, These are so good. And just right-right when they’re out of the fryer.” You chatted on, desperate to change the subject after your little Freudian slip.

“Can I…try one?” he asked.

He held out his hand and you pressed a few fries into it. He chewed on them and then smiled as he tasted them.

“Not bad! Midgard food isn’t as pitiful as I thought!” he replied.

Mobius returned with his tray along with his companion. They ate and Mobius commented on how the Sweet and Sour sauce was his favorite. Loki looked at him, his smile dropping. Then he turned to you, his voice low. Mobius kept on chatting about everything to the variant.

“He still doesn’t remember…It seems all who care about me just…either die or leave or hurt me…” he mourned.

“I don’t…and think of Thor. Yes, you two fight. But he loves you. And remember your own mother! They care about you. They always will…and so will I…” you assured him.

Your hand moved up to touch his, then froze and retreated. Then he turned to you.

“Y/N?”

“Mhhm?” you asked, a mouth full of food.

“...You have salt on your chin…” he commented.

He reached out his hand to cup it. Your breath stopped at his touch- so gentle, so soft. His large thumb grazed over your chin slowly. Your mouth opened a little, feeling his light brush as his thumb swiped the bits of salt away. How small it seemed under his large hands. But he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest- it felt like a caress. A light kiss. Once his thumb went back to his hand, his eyes went to yours. Seeing his blueness, his large, dark pupils. As if something unspoken was exchanged between you. You saw him swallow hard.

Taking in a deep breath after that, you retreated, putting your hands on your lap and looking down. The heaviness of sudden arousal from his touch had shocked your system. You reached for your drink to cool off but realized it was empty. You had eaten all of your meal. There wasn’t food you could use to hide now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths- in, two three four, out two three four.

“There that’s…that’s better,” Loki said.

“Thank you- it won’t be easy, but….one day, you won’t be sad about what happened. You won’t feel nervous or scared…you’ll get over it Loki, bit by bit,” you encouraged softly.

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on the table.

“Ah, tell me, my dear Y/N- Have you ever had your heart broken?”

The burger in your throat dried up. You took your napkin and bunched it into a ball in your hand.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. Fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I never did! Never! None of that drama! I’ve never been more relieved!” Mobius sang out as he chewed on a nugget. His companion only kept tearing at his burger.

“Is it terrible?” Loki asked. His brows knotted in curiosity.

“Very. Still is,” you replied.

“How did you cope with it? You little mortals-going about your own lives and your own heartbreaks?” he asked generally.

You shoved aside the tray and folded your arms. Then you began to speak.

“Realizing that love shouldn’t be a prison.”

“A prison?” Loki repeated. He leaned forward. Staring right at you. Truly listening to you. You continued, though you felt your body tense up. Knowing what you said was honest- too honest.

“I was…not with him in any way. He wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or hookup or whatever. This guy- I thought… he should be with whoever makes him happy….”

Even with someone who betrayed him, manipulated his feelings, and left him crying.

“Love means letting go. It’s the right thing to do- it’s still hard though,” you finished.

Loki registered nothing beneath the surface of that. He merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He looked at you, giving you a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re alright and happy now, Y/N. I remembered the time you were about to fall off the TVA balcony right over those statues last month…”

“And you caught me-you saved my life!”

“To think…me…a hero for once…” he commented.

“That’s a Loki for you! A pure miracle for your kind!” Mobius commented.

He took a long sip of his Sprite.

“Wow! Now this is a drink!” he exclaimed, inside the cup for the bubbly carbonation.

“Well, Mobius, this isn’t fiction. No one is all good or all bad. And Loki, no one entirely bad does that…everyone’s a mix of good and bad,” you added on.

“What’s your bad parts, Y/N? Any weaknesses” Loki asked curiously.

“I…get jealous…” you confessed.

The god’s jaw lowered to the ground. His voice dared to raise a little bit from his surprise.

“Jealous!? But…you’re…you’re so kind! I’m the jealous one!” he said.

You continued on. The words poured out of you more quickly than you could register or control them.

“It doesn’t mean I never feel jealous. Or am tempted to do things like take her face and smash it over the McDonad’s register.”

“What?!?!”

You stopped. A hand flew over your mouth to cover it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking?!?! you cursed silently. Another slip. And this time, he heard it clearly. No hiding around it.

“Whose face are you talking about?” Loki asked further.

“I…Forget that…I didn’t say anything! Good luck with your meet-cute and reunion and all that. Have fun- bye!” you dismissed quickly.

You grabbed your tray.

“Y/N…wait…” he said.

“Where is she going?” Mobius asked, tilting his head. He then remembered he had more sweet and sour sauce with his McNuggets and began dipping into them with a childish glee.

He reached out and grabbed your arm. You pulled against him and he held you back.

“What’s going on!?” the god asked.

“Don’t touch me- save it for her!” you hissed out. Yanking away from him- not even looking at his face.

You looked right at the door and walked hurriedly. Momentum, panic, pulling you out of there. You kept your eyes on the exit as you dumped your trash into the bin. You walked to the outside of the McDonalds. It was sunny with the sun’s orange glow and a little chilly. You got the tempad from your pocket to return. But then you heard Loki jog behind you. You kept walking down the pavement. Glad that there weren’t moving cars right now. If not, you wished a moving one would hit him and send him flying. But it didn’t.

“Y/N, stop!” he insisted.

You stopped walking. But you turned around. You didn’t look at him- only at the rows of cars and empty parking spots in the strip. But you heard him behind you.

“I’ve stopped. Now what?” you asked. At least you could hide behind sass and snark. It made the pain better.

“Whose face were you talking about?” he asked.

“I’ve got to go, Loki,” you urged.

“Y/N, wait!” he cried.

You felt him grab you. He turned you around, his arms gripping you into place. His eyes were intense and his jaw lowered. He still looked so handsome- like a dream. His intensity, the feel of his bare hands on you making it more intense, making him more attractive. You were forced to face him. Your eyes were brimming with more tears. He almost shook you as he held you- so strong. His skin, his scent. Like he wouldn’t let go of that for the world. If only you could experience that for yourself.

“Y/N….are you…jealous of Sylvie?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I said something about hurting her. I know it was wrong to-but yes. I’m jealous of her. Have been for a while. Isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

“Why?!”

You burst into tears. Your jaw tightened.

“I need to go, Loki…just let go, please,” you begged.

As you moved he held his grip on you.

“No! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why!” he demanded.

You thought confessions like this should be done in moonlit gardens or sexy hotel suites or something. Not the parking lot of a fucking Mcdonald's. But here you were.

“Why? Because I love you, Loki. More than as my friend-much more.”

“You…love me?” he asked. His eyes were wide. His jaw dropped and then it closed back, his pink lips barely parted.

Your words sputtered out. His grip relaxed on your arms. You had no choice but to look him in the eye and talk.

“ I’ve always loved you…I’ve loved you every afternoon, on weekdays, on coffee breaks. I’ve admired and taken note of every one of your feats. I stayed by when you were sitting at the TVA crying when she opened the multiverse and left you. But…the thing with love…is that it means letting go…”

How handsome he looked. His jacket-how warm would it feel? Would it smell like him? And the shirt that hugged his body. You glanced down and felt twinges of lust mixed with your sadness. With a man as delectable as he, you couldn’t help it. How broad yet lean and strong he was. How his bare skin would feel against your bare skin. How many times have you fantasized nightly about having him in your bed? But there was only one being in these universes and timelines who would know. And it wasn’t you.

“What…Y/N…really…all this time…” Loki murmured.

. You felt anger in your throat and venom in your voice.

“If you think the best relationship you need is with a woman who is literally you with a vagina who you knew for three days and then left you in the dust for her own gain, then take it! Because…beacuase…”

You began to step away. Ready for him to be angry at your words about her. His eyebrows lowered and there was no anger- only his parted lips of shock. You began Crying again. You thought you saw him tear up too.

“Because that’s what you want, what you choose…and I have to let you go…”

You turned on your heels and promptly left. Wiping your tears on your sleeve. Using the tempad, you returned to your home. You ran inside, fell on your bed, and sobbed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Monday began, you were ready to work. You got in your nicer dress and cardigan for the day. The TVA office could get chilly. Right when you walked in, there was Loki. In his own work wear. You froze. What on earth were you going to say? What could you say?

“I was worried about you. How are you, Y/N? Feeling better?” he asked, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know…yes….yes I am…” you nodded.

He gave you a kind smile. You waited for him to bring up what happened, what you said. He did not.

“How did…McDonalds go?” you asked.

“For your information, it went alright,” he informed you.

You felt a giant lump in your throat. You pulled your cardigan further over you-looking down on the floor as you spoke.

“The reunion- did she-”

“She just wanted to focus on her job,” Loki answered before you could finish your statement. He went up closer to you. “I hope your day at work goes well, my dear…if any supervisor gives you trouble, they’ll answer to me…wait- there’s a hair on your shirt,” he said.

He gently brushed it away on your shoulder.

“There you go- you look…you look nice today. The colors suit you,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

It was a normal, boring day. And the next day was a normal boring day- that was comforting.

When you went into the cafeteria, you decided to buy lunch. After all, it was going to be the best meal they offered at the TVA- grilled ham and cheese with tomato soup-nice and warm. You counted your coins from your pocket to make up the total. It was cheap-but still eating at it every day could take a toll if you weren’t careful.

As you walked up with your change, the cafeteria lady shook her head in her hair net.

“Oh no- it’s on the house!” she said.

She gave you a smile as she brought a tray ready. Your own surprised face gleaming from the glass over the food.

“Really?!” you gasped incredulously.

“Yes-your lunches are free from now on!” announced the cafeteria lady.

“Oh…thank you!” you cried.

Smiling, she handed you a grilled ham and cheese and poured tomato soup into a bowl before handing it to you. They tasted especially warm and decadent.

Loki appeared here and there. But he would ask after you. Talk to you. He never mentioned the warrior goddess version of himself to you. Not anymore, at least. But he didn’t bring up what he said.

As you got to your office desk on the fifth day, he was standing there- waiting for you. Your coworkers were watching with one eye from where they sat and worked. Some even stood up to see.

“Hello, Y/N!” he greeted.

He walked forward and you gasped aloud when he turned. In his white hands was a glass vase full of fresh, beautiful flowers- your favorite kind. Bright and beautiful with a fragrance that sweetened the area that used to be full of the smell of crisp paper and old coffee.

“I…I thought you might like this,” he offered, handing you the vase.

“I…I, uh…uh-thank you,” you said.

Why was he suddenly being nice? It then hit you- he still valued your friendship. Even if he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to let you go yet. Probably making peace. But you were in public, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss matters of the heart openly. But…that was better than a full friendship breakup. Of never seeing that mischievous, handsome god ever again.

You smelled the flowers and set them on your desk. He leaned against it, something glinting in his eyes. Something that made you feel fluttery and distracted you from the start of the day.

“How’s the…Kang mission going?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. If not well. A few bumps here and there- but things will probably be fine. You have nothing to fear…but what about you? How is work?” he asked.

“It’s been downright slow the past few days. Then today it’s picked up, but…nothing I can’t handle.” you reported.

He leaned a little closer, the old trickster light beaming in his eyes.

“Anyone being difficult? He asked.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Some were in the past, but…but no.”

“Then…I hope you have a good day, Y/N. I will talk to you later. Don’t let them work you too hard, darling,” he said.

He gave you a wink that sent butterflies into your stomach and then walked away.

How nice he was. Taking it so well. You always knew there was a little good in him. Even if all that was for someone who didn’t deserve him…

After work, you splurged on cheesecake and a bottle of wine. You were going to need it.

After you got back home, you brought in your goods. You listened to sad music and cried to flush more of it out of your system. Grieving Sylvie and Loki being a couple. Imagining them kissing and doing more than kissing by now a hundred times. You took a hot shower to cleanse every picture of it from yourself. You changed into your pajama shirt and shorts. You sat on your chair in your room, ready to eat a generous helping of cheesecake and a generous glass of wine.

You were going to go somewhere far from the TVA. You had to. Get a new job somewhere. Meet as many men as possible. Try other forms of dating. Or not just dating– just meet anyone. Forget him. Forget Loki. Forget his dark curls and blue eyes and sinful waist in those tight shirts and mischievous smile. Move on from him, move on from being rejected. Even if he was nice to you and wanted to still be friends. You were going to forget it all. Sacred timeline be damned. Your happiness and peace of mind was shattered.

Then it hit you…it was odd that out of nowhere you had free lunches at work. Why was that?

An answer hit you.

Could it…could it be…it was… No. It was bribery. Yes! All bribery because he needed help with some villain who lived in a mansion with purple robes and a flair for the dramatics. All being beside his perfect, flawless girlfriend. Having their love rubbed in your face. You wanted to spit.

Right as you were about to take your first bite of cheesecake, There was a loud knock.

“Y/N…please let me in…I have to talk with you,” a voice you knew too well asked from the door.

You gripped the seat of your chair.

“Loki?! Is that you?” you asked from where you sat.

“Who else, darling?”

“Just use your magic and break into my place!” you replied.

“I’d rather enter with your permission…” he said.

Not caring that you were in your sleepwear, you opened the door. Still in his jacket and TVA office wear, he stepped inside. Your hands curled into fists. He was beautiful as ever-jacket and cheekbones and all. You could have screamed at him. You could have punched him. You could have slammed the door in his face.

But…you didn’t. You couldn’t. You crossed your arms and took a step back, but you looked at him.

“Loki…what are you doing here? What else can I say to you? Thanks for your gifts. I know you need help with Kang but…I can’t…I can’t do it…and you have someone waiting for you. Go to her. Go to who you love.”

“But….I am with who I love…” he replied.

A stone dropped into your stomach. Your whole body tightened. Your breath stopped and your throat ran dry.

He stepped inside. Then he cupped your face with both hands.

“Y/N…I’ve been so blind…” he confessed.

Before another word was said, he kissed you on the lips. Deeply, sweetly. You smelled him- smelled popcorn and musk. Yet he tasted of cream on your lips, of froth. Like a dessert after dinner and twice as sweet. He held you so that your lips could stay together. Then he released, still holding your face.

“Loki…what is this? What’s going on? Is this another…another of your tricks, then…” you asked, your voice only half of its strength.

He kept you close. Looking right at you. His voice was so dulcet, so earnest.

“It’s not. Y/N…I never realized how much you cared for me. How much you really did…and to think…I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t. No one saw me…but you…and to think…all this time I was chasing after someone. A shadow. A dream. An illusion better than any I could conjure. An idea of her. Not realizing…that love, that sweetness I have wanted my whole life…was right in front of me…” he said softly.

“You finally came to your senses!” you cried.

Both of you let out a small laugh at that.

“But…she’s with you to fight Kang- and you’re back together?” you asked.

“She doesn’t remember me. And she… wanted nothing to do with me. It struck me what she did…how she treated me. And then I thought of how you treated me…I kept thinking of you, thinking of you. I missed you. I looked for you. I…I didn’t want to cross paths with her…I realized…there was someone always there for me…yes-you…Oh, Y/N, I’ve been a fool,” he breathed.

He held you and kissed you again and you almost gasped into it. Feeling him. You grabbed onto his jacket. Held him close-felt how close he was. His eyelashes. His tall cheekbones graze against your face. It made you shiver. He let go of the kiss, pressing his forehead onto yours.. Both of you closed your eyes and could hear his breathing fluttering.

“Y/N, my dear…can you forgive me?” he asked.

“I can. Can you forgive me?” you asked.

“I already have.”

He let go. He still kept his eyes on you as he reached his hand to the door and pushed it close. The momentum made it shut. His long finger made a swipe-out of it came a bit of green seidr. And you heard a click! The door locked in place.

“I wanted someone who loved me…who would take care of me…and it was you the whole time….it was you, Y/N…I…I don’t…” he muttered.

He paused. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked down. He licked his lips and his eyes scattered, a blush on his cheeks.

“I don’t…even know what to say now…how to put it…uh, Y/N…I…I, uh-”

“I love you too, Loki…and…I’m glad you’re okay now,” you breathed.

You were on him to kiss him again. He pulled you close. He moved a little tongue in. Your breath hitched from feeling him there. His hands on your back-keeping you pressed against him. Never wanting to let go.

“Y/N…don’t let this end here. Let me stay…let me stay for tonight…” he whispered.

“You can stay,” you said with a nod.

You felt his fingers dig into your skin. To leave his fingerprints on you.

He then moved on to kiss your neck. It tickled you a little. But he found a sensitive spot- a spot rarely kissed. He pressed his lips to it as he held you close. Then he used a bit of teeth. It elicited a groan from you. You felt him tense up as it escaped your lips. He sucked the area.

“Here…now you’ll never doubt that you are mine…and I am yours…”

He made another bite, another mark. Arousal squirmed inside you, releasing out to your panties with his touch, his lips on your skin. He kissed you again and you melted into it. The friction between you was building up. He squared his hips to meet your own and you stifled a gasp. His hands wander down your body-exploring each curve and shape, hidden only by the thin cotton of your sleepwear. Feeling you like a discovery of forgotten land. Finding each nook and curve of your shape inside your clothes. But you did not move an inch away-but kept him there. You ran a hand up to feel his back-always so warm. Masculine even.

“Loki…darling…” you moaned out as he kissed each bit of the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. His hands wrapped to be around your back.

He kissed you again. You reached your hand to rake through his dark curls- they had been washed and were so fresh and clean and soft-softer than the petals of the flowers on your desk.

You could feel something getting hard from his office pants. It brushed against the crotch of your own clothes and made you quench beneath.

“Y/N…my pet…I want…I want to have you…to have you now…will you let me?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, I do…I want you…” you agreed.

“Then… let's make up for lost time…” he growled.

He kept kissing you as he put his hands around your waist, grabbing you and taking you right to your bedroom. His hands moving back up to cup your face, to keep kissing you so close. He released and looked down at your clothes. He then touched your collar, seeing where it dipped, and showed a bit of your chest. He smiled as his hands went down, feeling the material.

“If I knew this had any chance of happening, I would’ve worn something else…” you confessed.

“Does that really matter when the best part will always be beneath it?” he asked.

With a flash of seidr from his fingers, the pajamas vanished and you were naked before him. You gasped at the cold. You fought the urge to cover yourself. It wasn’t that this was your first- but to show your body before Loki was a different matter. You have never wanted someone so bad, and you never felt more…vulnerable. Your arms flinched to cover your breasts then he caught you.

“Ah-ah, Don’t hide your beauty from me, not anymore…” he said with a playful tone.

He moved your arms aside to see you. He cupped one breast in his large, beautiful hand- thumb grazing the nipple, making you shiver.

“Yes…that is the best part…” he said.

He kissed you again, his hand wandering down- feeling your bare back. Even grazing your bottom, then going up to your hips, your curves. He was feeling you- treasuring each inch of you. He kissed you again as you connected your hips to his. Electricity shooting through you. You let out a shuddering groan. He gave you another smile- it was so lustful, so devilisih, so him.

“There’s something else I can do, my Y/N…would you like to try it?” he boasted quietly.

“Yes…show me what it is…”

“I can hold you back…tie you without any silk, any rope, any chains, any restraint…” he whispered.

“How?” you pressed.

There was a light flashing in his eyes-so light, so different. From the dim lights of your room out came shadows like his- with his horned helmets on them. The shadows lurched over and you almost gasped. Then they went down to the floor.

“They can touch you- do you want to know what they feel like?” he asked.

“Yes…”

The shadows reached out their arms, traveling up. They felt like mist when they grazed your skin. But then one pulled up your first arm high- and it was strong. You couldn’t break out of it, no matter how you tugged. Then the other lifted your other arm up high. The light was still in Loki’s eyes, the shadows lifted you up before him. A prize free for his taking. He grinned as they wandered on how your position made your breasts dangle before him.

“Now…where were we…ah, yes…” he said.

The shadows were strong but gentle as they moved you over. You were floating-then they laid you on the bed. Your arms were lifted to remain high over your head as your back went over the duvet. Your arms were held over your head, laying over the pillow.

“I…I like this power…”

He smirked, his hands still in his pockets.

“As do I…and I am bout to like them even more…”

More shadows appeared- they flicked across your legs.

“What pleasure is hidden between here- they can help show me, perhaps…”

They curled to your ankles and then gently opened your legs before him.-showing your dripping pussy before the god. He played cool. Only his quick breaths and the bulge in his pants hinted at his craving, his desire. Your breasts out and your legs opened- nothing hidden. Now the shadows had you out and open-something for him to devour, something out to be fucked.

He walked forward. He brought out a long finger. He touched your folds gently, sliding them down. You let out a gasp.

“L-Loki…” you breathed out. It was so sinful, so filthy you couldn’t help but love it.

“Why…this is quite the picture. If I could only paint it…but I only want this masterpiece for myself, and no one else.” he rasped.

He walked over to the bed. Then he crawled so he was between your legs. The shadows keeping your legs open. His hand grazed over your inner thigh.

“Here…you’ve been a good little angel Taking care of me. Shhhh-shhh- you don’t need to object, to think of my pleasure for now. You’ve worked so hard…now relax…let your god take care of you this time, darling.”

You were gasping and whimpering. He began to taste you- his tongue inside. He groaned as his tongue went further into your folds. His cold breath against your private wetness made public for him. Your arms flinched but the shadows held you tight. He flicked his tongue and you let out a small groan.

“L-L-Loki…yes…I-oh, oh god-yes…” you sputtered out.

His shadows lifted your hips so he could taste further. His tongue delved. It found your clit and you shuddered from it. He gave a few licks. He went up closer to where your clitoris was swollen and waiting for him. Then he stopped.

“Now this…this tastes better than any of those Midgardian meal down there…This one is sweeter, with much more juices…and this one I can devour at no cost at all…”

You were whimpering-letting him lick your clit. Letting his tongue go through- each bit of you. Explore you. Your own cries filled you up. But the shadows kept you wide open.

“L-Loki…that…that feels so-so good…”

With a small gasp, you felt pleasure spiral in you. He licked a bit further-and soon it broke on you. Like the wings of a bird when it catches the wind and lifts up. The pleasure burst and you let out a gasp from your petit mort.

Your heart was racing, and your blood coursing through you. Loki was smiling- his lips wet with your juices. And still fully clothed.

“I hope they don’t replace me-I’ve yet to get my hands on you again, my pet.”

He crawled on top of you. He kissed you so his tongue got into yours-another hole for him to claim. You could taste your own earthy scent and thick juices. Still restrained, he held you, grinding lightly onto you. Your hips lifted a little to meet his- no shadows needed. But you felt their cool touch curling around you. Touching all over you- he wanted to touch you, feel you, know you, devour you in every way.

“Please…I want more…I want you…I want you inside of me, Loki…” you begged.

He smirked, a curl coming loose on his face.

“Oh…my tongue was only to prepare you, my dear…I hope you are ready…”

“Yes…yes-please..I want you to fuck me, fuck me until I forget everything else…forget Kang, the TVA, timelines, all of it! I don’t care if it’s by your shadow’s cock or yours- I need you! All of you!”

“You need only ask, my dove,” he purred.

The green seidr flashed with a tilt of his head, then down it went. It melted his clothes off. He became naked. You underestimated how fit his body was. You forgot your words at this sight of his nakedness. How strong, muscled, and broad he was despite his leanness. His masculine hairs across his chest-his large, strong biceps. Abdominals and a very happy trail leading to his erect largeness. The shadows curled their grip around you. They pulled your legs to open wider.

“I hope you’re ready for the love of a god,” he murmured.

He embraced you, kissing you as he began to sink in. Bit by slow bit. He got himself in, groaning. You let out a cry when all of him was inside. He was so big, you had to adjust. Your arms flinched again but they remained held back. His arms reached around you-keeping you close. He then held you- his own hands digging into your hips and thrusting into you.

“Oh-oh, god!” you whimpered

“That’s- that’s what I like to- to hear-shall you try it again? Yes- yes-urgh- so-so tight, my love-yes-” he growled.

He began to slowly thrust into you. He groaned into it- slow, but steady. Intruding your insides. He rolled with you, a gentle rolling of his body. Kissing you deeply. Then he kept at it. Your voice escaped you. His cock disappeared and reemerged. But he looked at your face, in your eyes as he fucked you into your bed.

With a flick of his head, the shadows moved your legs so that your knees bent and you were angled deeper.

“Fuck! Oh-oh dear-Loki I-I-I can’t-shit-can’t believe this-this is-fuck- happening--happening right now-it’s-it’s-its-fuck!- too good to be true-” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s-it’s true darling…”

He thrust carefully, slowly. Then he picked up. His voice was like that of a hiss, right into your ear.

“And you’re-” Thrust. “-Mine.” Thrust.

He kept kissing you as he thrust, thrust, thrust. His shadows testing you, splaying you a little more open. Hearing each other's groans. Moaning your name, repeating it like a prayer of his own. A prayer only a god could give. His own grunts were deep and guttural. He found the right pace. Painting with each thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Yes…yes, you’re-you’re mine and-yes-I will…I will be yours-we are at each other’s mercy…now…yes-”

His pace increased. His shadows holding you back bed hitting itself against the wall. Then the shadows moved so your legs flew right up by him. It was so wild, so fast. Then his long finger curled to your entrance. Finding the clit. Rubbing so hard- so much. Slam, slam, slam, slam. You gasped- it was the right, perfect place. You were going up, up in your pleasure. His finger tested your clit faster, harder with his thrusts. You felt his voice, his groans rising in pitch. And that bubbling, spinning feeling was going inside you, your toes clenching as your legs were up in the air.

“Oh…oh gods…Loki…I’m going to cum again-I-I am…”

He held you close- this time his own flesh-his thrusts wilder, desperate. He was breathless, with every gasp, every taking in of pleasure, he urged you. His voice husky and to the point of breaking.

“Yes-yes-go-there-I…I can’t—cum, darling, cum with me-your heat, your wetness-it’s going to-going to overwhelm me-I…I can’t I-yes-yes-cry out-cry out my name, darling…I-I-I-”

His thrusts were so wild, pounding you right into the bed. Nailing you there, completely taking you over. That sweet spot- thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust-when it hit like lightning that you let out what started as his name, and then you hit it, it became a shout.

“L-Ah!”

It reverberated throughout your home. Whoever was next door or nearby would definitely hear it. With a strangled cry of his own, he arrived as well.

His shadows retreated. He still wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into you. His arms wrapping around you. He felt so warm- you could smell his sweat, feel how he had to catch his breath. Your heart was still reeling after that bout of pleasure. He hugged you close.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out.

He let out a small smile and you both laughed.

“To think I could’ve been enjoying…that all this time, my dear…” he said, he kissed you on the forehead. “And now…I hope you don’t mind that again….”

“Can it be every day?” you asked.

“Of course!” he laughed.

He sighed as you settled into each other.

“What are we going to tell Mobius…the TVA?” you wondered.

“We’ll think of something…” he said.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around you. With a bit of magic, he conjured a large shirt over you-soft and comfortable.

“I was going to get some wine and Cheesecake- would you like any?” you asked.

“Both Sounds lovely to me…but Y/N…I am genuinely sorry, I really am.” he said, his eyes wide and sweet.

“And I genuinely forgive you…emotions make people do things-”

He grinned.

“Such as this,”

He pulled you to his lap. You hugged and kissed his cheek. Yes, you would figure out life as a couple in the TVA together. Life with some new villain back and on the rise. But for now…you had to just enjoy each other. This new, blossoming, new love. Yes- how good that word felt rumbling in your mind. It echoed as he joined you to get plates and glasses.

You both smiled as you had your first sips and ate your first bites. He thanked you with a kiss- tasting sweeter than any food, dessert or dinner- could ever taste to you.

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snowprincesa1 · 8 months

Text

{A fool of a brother}

//Fannon!Teenage!Daemon x Fannon!Teenage!F!Reader//

Daemon travels to the Vale to retrieve a particular lady Arryn. (Read part two here)

Daemon had heard of you, mostly from his elder brother the king Viserys who held a soft spot for you in his heart, being the only sister his wife Aemma had.

Quite honestly speaking Daemon was jealous. Jealous of how his brother would compare him to you at every mischievous stunt he pulled to gain his older brother’s attention. Daemon knew so much of you and your life through the letters you wrote to Aemma, the ones he would secretly steal. He heard of the tales of your beauty and simply shrugged them off, you didn’t have the light blonde or silver valyrian hair that your sister did but inherited your father’s hair that you would braid and throw over your shoulder.

You were a devout follower of the faith the back of your hair veiled with a translucent blue veil that showed the colour of your house. Daemon had accumulated so much information on you that it was driving him mad. He wanted to take caraxes to the vale and demand to see you and he probably would have if his brother didn’t need him by his side.

Daemon didn’t understand why everyone who met you seemed so captivated with you. You weren’t a dragon rider like Rhaenys, You weren’t a warrior like Visenya and you certainly weren’t Aegon.

When Aemma had given birth to a healthy baby girl, she grew frail from the childbirth and it was uncertain as to whether she would live after the intense labour she endured. Blood seeped down in the sheets. Viserys didn’t know what to do, Aemma pleaded to see you one last time every time she was on the brink of unconsciousness, he should have been smarter and summoned you to kings landing at the start of the pregnancy.

Aemma was in and out of unconsciousness her body drenched with cold sweat.

“What is happening brother?” Daemon asked standing at the door of the bedchamber not daring to enter.

Viserys opened up his eyes red from the constant rubbing and worrying.

“Lets go for a walk, keep the handmaidens with the Queen” he said moving out to the corridor waiting for Viserys to join him.

“What is it? Is Aemma not to live through this?” He asked his hand holding Viserys’ shoulder.

“I am not sure of it..the maesters..the maesters seem bloody useless” he sighed “she wants me to get her sister, the lady Arryn from the vale” he sighed rubbing his face once more. “There is no time, Daemon” he said

“Pity” he said. He didn’t plan on telling his brother he would retrieve you for him if that was what he wished Daemon truly loved his brother and would happily ride caraxes to bring over this mysterious lady Arryn he had oddly even dreamt meeting. Perhaps he had wanted to do this for himself instead. He dreamt of you to be a kind, quiet woman an innocent one over whom he could hold an advantage over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He placed his dragon riding vest over his body. Approaching the red sleek dragon caraxes patting its snout and pressing his forehead to the dragon’s side calming it.

Caraxes had a shrilling cry that could very much deafen a person. It was a miracle Daemon’s hearing remained as is. He climbed onto caraxes swiftly pulling to the skies above. He would get you to comply with his wishes and get you to kingslanding and win his brother’s approval. How difficult could you be?

The journey took hours but caraxes felt the adrenaline running through Daemon and felt the same letting out shrill cries. Free in the skies away from kingslanding approaching the gloomy climate of the Vale, Daemon could see the Eyrie. You would be there. His curiosity to see you drove him mad. Caraxes circled the stronghold of the Arryn’s as Caraxes let out excited whistles waiting for Daemon to order him to unleash fire on the castle.

Daemon had other plans, fire was the last thing he wanted in this situation. His dragon resting on the bridge destroying a little of it as its weight pressed on the brick.

Elys Arryn the lord of the Vale walked out of the Eyrie wondering what the Targaryens could possibly want now.

“My prince, what brings you here with your mighty dragon?” He asked attempting to smile and seem friendly to the obviously large dragon and the rogue prince before him.

“No true Targaryen would pass on a chance to ride their dragon” he said caraxes standing anticipating his next command.

“I am here on order of the king” he said in a bored manner. Arryn men, he hated them.

“And what does he require ?” Lord Arryn asked impatiently clearly confused by the sudden appearance of a prince.

“That is for me and lady Arryn to discuss. You know, your half sister” he said smirking

“He has demanded for my sister?” The Arryn lord asked. He didn’t trust Daemon especially not with you.

“Yes he has, now bring the lady Arryn out. I wish to see her” Daemon said his fingers brushing the pommel of his sword Dark Sister. He would be ready to cut down any lord if he was denied. If the king was denied.

You walked out in the bridge of the eyrie. Making your way through the crowded lords. Everyone eying you, what business did the king have with you? Or was it the prince Daemon playing one of his pranks and attempting to sway another woman. It was known that Daemon was to be betrothed to a lady in the Vale, was it you? Prince Daemon disliked by the high folk of the vale. The words of your house being ‘as high as honour’. Daemon had no honour, no modesty and was indulgent in all he pleased. The rogue prince of the seven kingdoms known for deflowering young women.

You approached him, you wore a light blue gown the colour of your house. You were a proud Arryn. A year elder to your sister Aemma, you were NOT fond of king Viserys you hadn’t forgotten the anger you felt when the king had chosen your younger sister as his breeding livestock. The young girl having experienced miscarriages that had weakened the live in her. But viserys relented, he wanted a male heir. It should have been you, you were the older sister why was it you who should have been chosen not your little sister. You should have protected her. She was so young— the guilt ate you up from the inside. You were just a year older but yet you would happily sacrifice yourself in her stead. Viserys loved your sisters silver hair and that was the reason as to why she was chosen. You didn’t know whether to think your dark hair a boon or a bane.

A white veil over the back of your dark hair with a headband embroidered with beautiful pearls. The cuffs of your gowns had little designs of golden coloured birds. You were a sight to behold.

Daemon felt his mind go blank the moment he saw you. How could his brother have passed on you? Perhaps his brother regretted his impulsive choice.

“My lady, I have heard tales of your beauty but none of them do you any justice” daemon said truthfully, you stood with your back straight almost contemplating what to say.

“My prince, is it true that the king has requested for my presence?” You asked plainly. What does Viserys want now?

“It’s more of a command my lady” his eyes lingering on your body taking all of you in. “You look absolutely beautiful” he said complimenting you again. Unlike other women you didn’t blush nor grow embarrassed. Your mind filled with rage over the fact that viserys had the nerve to send for you like a dog.

“And why is it he commands for me?” You asked suspiciously

“The king does not require a reason but I shall tell you the truth the queen has given birth” he said waiting for you to ask him more questions

“And the babe is healthy?” You asked “is it a boy?”

“A healthy baby girl” daemon confirmed “they are thinking through names”

“That’s wonderful news” your sister’s pregnancies would not end with a daughter you knew, viserys would still long for a male heir as demanded by the council and his people. But you were happy that a babe survived the trials and was born healthy.

“The queen is weak, the queen wishes to see you in case she does not make it” daemon explained seeing his stubborn you would be if he kept you in the dark.

“And I suppose you’ve come to take me on dragon?” You asked.

“Smart one aren’t you?” He smirked looking at caraxes who screeched loudly. “You have never ridden a dragon have you?” He asked extending his hand for you to take. You looked to your half brother nodding and telling him you would be back sooner or later. As much as Elys would have liked to keep you safe in the eyrie he could not go against the king’s or queen’s orders.

“What a pity a Targaryen never experiencing what it is to be a dragon rider”

“Well you must remember that I am half Arryn because of my father’s blood” you said accepting his gloved hand.

“But yet you share the blood of the old king and the good queen just as I do” he said in a persuading almost seductive tone. His hand holding yours pressing it to caraxes scales so he would get comfortable with your presence. You patted the beast lightly. Daemon tutted holding your hand firmer onto the dragon’s scales. His hand was bigger than yours but still fit it perfectly. Daemon must have felt it as well.

“Can you climb my dragon or do you need assistance?” he asked mischievously as you stood beside him looking at his dragon Caraxes

you looked at the red beast before you. “yes I am quite capable of climbing, thankyou” you retorted. How the hell does one ride a dragon? Caraxes was smaller in size as compared to other dragons but yet you felt as though you were scaling a hill. Like hell you were going to ask Daemon for help. Your feet slipping off Caraxes. Suddenly you felt strong hands on your thighs pushing you up his hand squeezed the fat of your thigh slipping to brush against your ass as he climbed behind you setting you in the front of him. He had a smug smile on his face as he held you infront of him his hand wrapping around your waist. “You are taking quite the liberty in touching me”

“Vile accusations” he smirked his face close to yours to gorge your reaction. You quickly turned your face away at how close he was you could feel his breath on your lips and it was inappropriate, an unwed lady travelling in such close proximity to a man such as Daemon?

“But I would have to hold you like this when we take flight…unless you wish to fall off?” He said smirking his eyes boring into yours. “With your consent of course”

“Just take me to the Queen, my sister” you said cutting him off. You weren’t going to trust Daemon or his intentions. Caraxes lifted of off the bridge of eyrie as he swept the clouds with his wingspan.

Daemon’s mind was filled with ways to annoy you and get your attention “why are you unwed?” He asked pretending to be genuine but he just couldn’t hide the smirk.

“Why are you unwed?” You repeated the question directed to him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard I’m betrothed to the bronze bitch” he scowled thinking of the brown haired woman who donned armour of house Royce.

“Bronze bitch?” You asked you anger aroused so very quickly “you speak so crudely of a beautiful woman?”

“Beauty? A sheep would be more fuckable” he said chuckling at his own comment. Would it be okay to throw him off his own dragon? You thought.

“But sadly you lack a few things the lady Rhea does not” you returned his smirk.

“There is nothing desirable that I lack” he laughed

“Oh— but you do” your smirk growing “you lack character”

“Character is not required for a prince like me” he retorted his smirk faltering just slightly, the prince trying to not take offense to your insult

“Yes but you are a mere second prince, the spare” you said looking straight at the sun behind the misty clouds.

“A second prince of the seven kingdoms and the heir to the crown” heir? You looked to him

“I wasn’t aware you were named heir” you said feigning surprise.

“I wasn’t” daemon frowned “but sooner or later, the Queen cannot give my brother a son. You should treat me with more respect for if I become king..”

“You really think Viserys is going to name you his heir instead?” You laughed at his idiocy “he’s going to keep trying and trying until finally a boy is born from Aemma” your fingers tightening around the reins.

“Aemma has had years to provide viserys an heir if she cannot I suppose he’ll have to find another cunt to sink his cock in” he spoke in anger, you turned your face around looking at him bewildered by his statement. You were going to smack him across the face once you reached kings landing.

“What if I tell Viserys of this?” You said, he would obviously be extremely upset. He would probably banish daemon and hurry the wedding preparations for daemon’s marriage to Rhea. That would mean daemon would be in the Vale.

Daemon grabbed a hold of your face “if you do that I cannot promise you that I will not exact revenge” he said all sense of friendliness lost.

“What could a second son with no prospects do to me? You would do well to marry into the Royce family. Perhaps you should even take her name..” you chuckled. Daemon was seething with anger his hold over you grew tighter almost as though he was trying to hurt you.

“If I wasn’t knighted I would—” he started

“You have no honour you might as well do what you must.” You said. You heard him cuss you out in soft mutters trying to control his anger. The ride back was too long. Daemon no longer wished to talk to you. Amidst the silence he suddenly said

“Lots of words from you, Queen who could have been” he smirked. He didn’t know you had no attraction or desire to the iron throne unlike himself.

“Lots of words from you, Daemon Royce” you retorted quickly. Daemon rested his head on your shoulder as you put your hand on his face to push him off but he relented stubbornly placing his chin deep in the crevice of your shoulder bone. “Call me Daemon Royce and I promise you. I will make you wish you never met me” he said trying to make you believe he that his threats were very real.

“I cannot believe we both are of same age” you grumbled “you are so immature it is no wonder God made you the second born” you said annoying hun even further. He threw some more insults at you which you threw insults back. The entire journey was a pain in the ass, the two of you yelling at each other at the top of your lungs. By the time you both had reached kingslanding you were sure you had lost your voice. Daemon’s voice and turned gruff and quiet as well. You attempted to climb off his dragon carefully to which he pushed you off when you were a few feet from the ground.

“You little sh—” you said getting back on your feet praying that no one saw the embarrassing fall and whelp you let out. Your legs had gone numb from the dragon ride but you wouldn’t spend another minute in the annoying prince’s presence. You truly felt for Rhea Royce. You walked out of the dragon pit ignoring everyone in your annoyance. You came for your sister. No one else. Daemon was quick to follow your lead

“Quite impolite as well not only to a prince like me but others as well” he noted “you didn’t wish any lord or lady on your way. Do you even know where you are heading?” He asked pulling the back of your dress to bring you to him your back hitting his chest with a thump sound.

“What in the seven hells are you doing now?” You asked your eyes squinting with irritation.

“Winning my brother’s favour, I brought you here. You see he gave me no order I did this out of my own goodwill. That makes me a good man” why the hell was he trying to convince you he was a good person?

“So the king gave no order— you abducted me!” You yelled punching him in the arm. Hard.

“And now you attacked a prince! Are we equal now?” He said rubbing the spot with his hand.

You ended up ignoring him or you knew you would end up spitting more insults at him. But well, now your anger for the Targaryens is split amongst the two brothers now. Daemon led you to to the room Aemma lay in. And you rushed in attempting to shut the door on his face. His strength overpowering you throwing open the door.

King Viserys looked up at the two of you from where he knelt next to his wife Aemma who was unconscious. Daemon shuffled his feet almost nervously before saying “I’ve brought her for you” King Viserys looked in disbelief between his brother and you. He got up from his bed giving his younger brother a silent hug which spoke a thousand thankyous. You sat on the bed next to Aemma trying to wake your sister gently “Aemma” you called her eyes flickering open before shutting them due to the brigtness of the room. The contrast between the darkness of her sleep and the sunlight spaying on your face and hair.

“Sister? Am I dreaming, Viserys?” she asked weakly.

Your eyes filled with tears at the sight of her so vulnerable. How much you had missed her. You didn’t know whether to hug her weak self so you placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m here Aem” you said brushing her sweaty clumps of hair with your fingers. Aemma seats herself on the bed to get a better look at you “you look just like father” she smiled “and you an Angel Aem” you smiled weakly trying and failing to hold back your tears. “I did it..I gave birth to a healthy babe. A girl” she said “not what the realm wished for but I am happy nonetheless” she said gently her eyes tearing up at the disappointment Viserys must have felt.

“Fuck the realm” you blurted in the presence on the King, the prince, and the the Queen, your sister “I am proud of you, mother would be proud of you. You did so well” you said pulling her to you as you stroked her silver hair.

“Have you seen the babe?” She asked “No I have not” you responded “You see, I was abducted and brought here by the prince Daemon” you jested trying to lighten your mood. Aemma sent a polite smile to daemon “I hope she didn’t cause you any problems” Aemma laughed asking Daemon. “Oh she did, but that’s a conversation for another time” he smirked. You couldn’t help but chuckle at your sisters remark maybe even Daemon’s.

A handmaiden brought in the baby to Aemma and she gently handed you the tiny babe wrapped in the softest of cloths. Viserys sat beside Aemma kissing the top of her hair. Daemon again stood at the door almost ready to leave. But then he looked at your face in that sunlight. Holding the tiny babe with silver hair in your arms. He saw the way you smiled looking at your sister proudly and then you looked at him and your smile didn’t vanish. It stayed as you held the baby in your arms. “Have you seen her? Have you seen our niece?” You asked Daemon. Your long argument almost instantly forgotten when you had your niece in your arms. This was your family as well, Daemon was your family as well. You didn’t want him to leave for some reason.

Daemon cautiously took a few steps further and then a few more standing a few feet away from the bed looking at the babe. “For heaven’s sake— she won’t bite you. Come closer” you barked. “She won’t, but you look like you would” he said ignoring Viserys’ glare. Aemma couldn’t help but laugh at your bluntness. Daemon scoffed standing right over you and the babe now.

“she looks like you brother” Daemon said and you quickly countered “No, she looks like my sister.”

Before the two of you knew it the both of you were arguing once again once again, and from behind both Aemma and viserys sent each other knowing looks.

Though you weren’t what Daemon had expected you to be he wasn’t disappointed in the least, in his heart he still believed his brother was a fool for passing on you.

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