#pre-city of lost souls

[qingxin-dream]

“The Afterparty”

summary | lyney is the face of fontaine’s entertainment industry, stealing hearts with every flourish of his magic. however, in the night, lyney tends to entertain a different kind of crowd.

warnings | written pre-4.0, ooc lyney, light yandere themes (stalking/manipulation/obsession), a sprinkle of smut (creampie/implied dubcon) [18+, MDNI], brief mention of drugs/alcohol, reader is neutral but wears a dress, lyney uses a little french

genre | yandere, slight smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

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It’s no mystery that the Great Magician of Fontaine is a man of many talents. His shows are famous across Teyvat for their grandeur and flare. Beautiful venues draped in red curtains frame the scene before a sea of velvety theater seats, skilled acrobats maneuver themselves among rings suspended in the air. Blazes of fire erupt from the stage dramatically. A master of misdirection, the audience falls for his tricks every time as he effortlessly makes the impossible possible.

Lyney is incredibly perceptive. He knows how to read people, as a showman can read his audience, a small smug smile crinkling the corner of his eyes if you’re paying attention. It’s an art form—the way he flips through the pages of your soul, licking his fingers to reveal the next juicy detail with ease. Rarely ever does anyone truly surprise someone as cynical as him, who has been personally privy to the vile nature of the Fatui.

A life of fame is never kind to anyone. The planning and training for shows is incredibly rigorous. Executing the stunts in front of a live audience is equally thrilling and terrifying. Without fail, the crowd is mesmerized and the show ends in a shower of roses and marriage proposals. Rinse and repeat. Though, this is only what Lyney allows the public to know of him.

It’s after hours, when the theater is empty and the stage is dim, when the mask begins to slip.

Lyney is the lead, the star, and as such he maintains his appearance by rubbing elbows with the elite of Fontaine. You’d never catch him amid the nightlife of the city, no. You wouldn’t believe the sheer grandeur of the dazzling, flamboyant parties thrown every night at the country’s largest mansions.

It was Arlecchino who insisted that he attends these lavish parties, rampant with the city’s darkest vices between drugs, alcohol, and sex. But Lyney is a cynical man, so this much is to be expected of wealthy aristocrats.

It was all a façade, couldn’t they see? It sickened him, how gullible people were and how obsessed they were with status. Not to mention the inevitable hordes of women who threw themselves at him.

Nevertheless, Lyney played the game well and with a bewitching, handsome smile. Eventually he had learned to take pleasure in this little game.

As fate would have it, you let your friend convince you to crash one of these extravagant parties with them. You had heard whispers of what takes place at night behind the golden gates of Fontaine’s richest residences. Why wouldn’t you want to have a taste of the finest wine, dressed in designer, getting lost in the magnificent corridors of a packed mansion of partygoers?

It’s something straight from the movies.

You emerged from the bushes to sneak inside, which wasn’t that difficult surprisingly. You wore your best dress, not knowing what to expect. It was a floor length, silky black dress with a sexy slit that traveled all the way up to your mid-thigh. You had a lovely string of pearls dangling from your pretty neck. A classic choice.

Unfortunately for you, Lyney is a man who is extremely attentive to his surroundings. After all, an illusionist must be a master of his environment as well. The moment he spots you, a mere reflection of something new and fascinating for him to discover, he gravitates to you smoothly.

“Mm, I don’t believe we’ve met,” his voice is an alluring, a well-practiced approach. Before you could even answer, Lyney had already taken note of your little mannerisms and nuances just in these few passing moments. He had already adjusted the figurative mirrors of misdirection in this little trick, assuring your undivided attention.

You glance to your friend, who isn’t there. Oh. You had been cornered without even the opportunity to explore the party.

More of a wallflower type, you found yourself struggling to conjure up a confident answer. You were acutely aware of who this gentleman is, and his egotistical demeanor was already a huge turn off.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” he chuckled lightheartedly, yet there was a peculiar undertone hidden beneath. It was hard to place. He kisses your hand. “Lyney, the Great Magician.”

You withdrew your hand, unable to hide the way your eyebrows crinkled together with disinterest. Perhaps you should’ve been more prepared for these guests to be more brazen and unapologetic when they see something—or someone—they want.

Taking no for an answer is not even in the realm of possibility for these people.

The party continued on, gorgeous partygoers dancing and drinking to their heart’s content. All the while, Lyney kept his eyes trained on you. It wasn’t necessarily out of admiration; rather, it was curiosity. Why didn’t you bat your eyelashes at him like a good girl? Bite your lip when he kissed your hand?

He followed you like a ghost, slinking through the crowd tactfully to observe you. You were a rare creature indeed. None of the other women could hold a candle to you. Archons, he felt this unsettling churning in his stomach everyone your glimmering irises met his. His heart would tense instantaneously, threatening to explode within his chest.

You saw through Lyney from the moment he kissed your hand, and he hated it.

Through the night, you both danced this delicate tango around the massive mansion, a palpable tension tethering him to you. He was equally appalled and fascinated by you, never wasting any opportunity to slip in an innocent question or two to learn about you.

“A beautiful lady like you in a place like this… Do you feel lost in Wonderland yet, Alice?” Lyney had persuaded you to follow him to an unoccupied balcony, closing the French doors behind him.

He stalks toward you, his soft lavender irises cool and calculated. In an ashy flourish of embers, a deck of onyx cards materialized in his gloved hands. It had taken all evening, but just enough wine had passed beyond your lips to give Lyney the opportunity to disarm you.

“Not scared of a little fire, are you, love?” His voice was warm and inviting as a hearth, though it held a hint of mischief like that of a crackling inferno. Each mysterious card in his hand is shuffled with a distinct flick.

You were much more susceptible to his charm now more than ever, allowing him to weave glittering silk strands of harmless sweet nothings to entice you. Had you taken a step back, you would’ve seen the web for what it is. The grand reveal was imminent.

“Now, now, don’t fret. I won’t let anything harm you, chérie,” Lyney chuckles lightheartedly, as if he hadn’t been playing and pawing at you like a cat ready to pounce all night.

Your poor little breath hitched at every whisper and touch he gifted you. It started by fatefully picking the Queen of Hearts from his custom deck of cards. You should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve picked the one next to it. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Lyney’s lilac eyes spark with intrigue at your choice. How fitting. Had you paid any attention to the magician’s sneaky maneuvers, you would have seen that every card in the deck was from the suite of Hearts.

The illusion of choice.

He takes this as an opportunity to step closer, his hands reaching forward. Your chest is beating wildly, begging for relief from how he intoxicates you with just a flutter of his long lashes.

Lyney rests his hands on the marble railing on either side of your hips, drinking in your anticipation, your fear, and your desire. A small, smug smirk pulls at the corner of his pretty lips. He takes the liberty of helping you meet his gaze by bringing his wrist to his mouth, white teeth tugging to remove his glove. Your body feels weightless when he lifts your chin with his bare index finger and thumb.

The Great Magician would argue that he took extreme precautions to ensure the success of this escapade. It was all carefully calculated and orchestrated according to his whim. He had you exactly where he wanted you, blissfully unaware of how deep these exhilarating feelings for you had rooted themselves into his guarded heart.

“Do you feel the magic in my fingertips? Hehe, tonight’s show will be a private event for only for you, mon trésor.”

The night was a blur. Fading in and out of consciousness, one moment you were dancing with him in empty halls and the next you were enveloped in his embrace against a wall. Lyney would pin your hands above your head before pushing you onto the bed, catapulting you into his next breathtaking trick like one of the acrobats in his show.

The silhouettes of your frames were shadowed in the moonlight that bathed the sheets in silver. Lyney skillfully unzipped your dress. Clothes fell to the wayside, vanishing in a flourish of passion. There was no denying it. He had to have you, and you were such a willing participant in his performance.

Of course, the wealthy partygoers were none the wiser, the echoes of pleasure the Great Magician was able to rip from your lungs were easily deafened by the music of their own opulent fantasies.

What is a magician if not an artist who must mark what is rightfully his—painting your womb with a decadent display, a growl escaping his throat.

However, Lyney is a perfectionist. When he catches a glimpse of his seed spilling out of you, he is quick to stuff his slender fingers into your overstimulated hole and seal the masterpiece with a final kiss on your bruised lips.

“Magnifique…” ❤️

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

I never blamed you for loving me the way you did.

Lestat De Lioncourt x reader

Summary; Lestat De Lioncourt had a wife once. And a beautiful life. Until he lost everything. Warnings; fail marriage, blood and injuries, vampire sex, character deaths, suicide, self-hatred, penis in vagina sex, creampie, sex as a coping mechanism, child loss, grief and mourning, ANGST, hurt no comfort, BISEXUAL Lestat de Lioncourt

Word count: 11,181

(Pre-canon)

Lestat had spent decades on this planet. He had known thousands of people, been to hundreds of cities, lain with both women and men. He had fallen in love, once upon a time. And he had known loneliness. He knew it even before he was turned into this vile creature. When he had to spend his days in his cold bed as a little human child. As his father and brothers torture toy, his mother’s suffocating burden, when had to spend days in Satan’s dungeon with the dead and the undead, waiting for his final day see his god for the first and last time. The nights he prayed to God to spare his life and how his prayers turned to pleadings for his death. He begged it to be quick and painless. He wanted his mother’s comfort that he never knew. He wanted to go back to church and attend the sunday service with the people of his small town. He wanted to hold cross one more time and feel the love of Christ in his bones.

He thought about God and Jesus and his mother when Magnus nearly ripped his neck open with his sharp fangs one night. He drank so much that Lestat thought he saw a bright light in the corner of his eye. He felt his soul slip away from his body and the lightness wash over him. It was a comfort that he never felt in his entire life before. Not when he used to lay beside that tree on the hill and exchange glances with the pretty looking shepherd boy as the warm breeze danced with his own blonde curls. Not when he fell asleep with that beautiful daughter of the baker by the river, naked, arms wrapped around one another, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beats.

He had tasted blood for the first time when Magnus pressed his bleeding wrist to his lips. Lestat started to drink. He had no idea why he was drinking. It was an instinctual command coming from his body, from his very existence. He felt life come back to him. But not his soul, it was gone. He felt his flesh harden like rocks and the colour drain away from his rosey cheeks of humanity. He felt Magnus’s blood flow trough his veins, fast and burning. He felt the warmth in his chest. His fingertips hurt with the sharp nails that grew in seconds. His eyes were sore and when he opened them again, the bright colours made him dizzy. He could hear everything and everyone. He could feel everything at once. He wanted to die. He wanted to beg Magnus to stop playing with him and let him die peacefully. And he was alone one more time when Magnus died in the flames, in front of his eyes. He smelled his burning rotten flesh. Dying like him disgusted Lestat.

Over time his yearning for God’s love turned into grudge. He wondered why God let him turn into this blood thirsty monster. Yes, that was what he was. A monster trough and trough. And no one would dare to love a monster like him. Even tho the monster would love anyone in the purest way possible if he was given chance.

And he did. Lestat loved Nicolas. As much as he could at least. Nicki was a troubled man since the first moment Lestat laid his eyes on him. He thought that being with him and having countless adventures could change him and plant seeds of happiness into soul. But it didn’t. He hesitated turning him into a vampire when Nicki was begging him to do so. He could sense the consequences of doing it. But spending centuries with the man he loved convinced Lestat. Nicki sinked into his dark thoughts more. His violin played with sadness and sorrow more than ever. Lestat felt his darkness in himself. He could not hear but see Nicki’s feelings in is empty looking eyes. He felt the guilt filling his heart as his first love was turning into someone he didn’t know. Armand’s presence wasn’t helping at all.

Lestat never thought about being loyal to his spouses when the world was full of fruits in different shapes and colours and tastes. There was so much to explore in his infinite life time. Armand was a capturing thing. With his eyes looking into his soul and reading him like an open book. Armand was offering so many things to Lestat that no one ever could. He yearned for the care and affection from Armand. He wanted to drink from him, lay with him and taught by him how to survive, live with the nature of a vampire. But being with Armand in front of the eyes of Nicki pushed the poor boy into madness more and more every passing day. Lestat was hungry but not for the destruction of the ones he loved.

He left Paris with his mother. He had left Nicki and Armand and the theatre. Only to receive the news of Nicki’s death. He fell onto his knees when they sent his violin to him. He touched the places where Nicki’s fingertips traced over. And he played it for the last time to feel his lover again. It didn’t matter if he was feeling Nicki’s love, rage or sadness. He only wanted a piece of him. His lips trembled when he played his favourite melody. The melody Nicki would play for Lestat after the moments they spent in each others arms, tasted one another and explore the corners of pleasure. He remembered that fearless little boy that he met with back in the day, when they were both humans. He remembered the shy glances of Nicki when he was looking at Lestat’s eyes, lips and every detail on his face. He remembered the moments they danced together and his mother would sing for them. He remembered their last happy moments. Tears of blood flowed down his cheeks and stained his white shirt.

He was alone again when his mother left him. He felt unlovable. Even his own mother couldn’t stand his presence. How could anyone in this world would love a man like him? By that time he had forgotten how it felt like being close to god and feel his love. He knew that God left him when he was turned into a seed of devil. He wanted to scream and shout and tell God that he never had a chance to choose. If he could he would choose God over everyone and everything without a second thought. Therefore Lestat knew believing in something higher and more powerful than you was a great comfort and happiness a man could ever have.

He traveled for years after his mother left him. He wondered around the countries, saw humans kill one another, cheat on one another, trick one another and destroy one another. He saw that it was not only him that was hungry for something he couldn’t name. Then his bright greyish blue eyes found the figure of a little human being in the crowd, dancing with a beautiful smile on her face. His eyes watched you for the whole dance. He heard your fast breaths, how they go trough your delicate nose and reach to your lungs that were still fresh and youthful compared to his rotten body. He saw the drops of sweat sliding trough your temple, your hair damp and the braid crown that was about to fall off. He heard your laugh, full of life and joy. He saw your skirts fly off as you tap your feet on the floor with your human strength. Your dance made him smile. His smile widened as you kept dancing and laughing. He felt like he never saw something or someone more alive. He felt a warmth in his chest. So different from the one felt when he first drank Magnus’s blood. It was type of warmth he felt when he was still human, when he had fears of a human and desires of a human.

He took you into his arms as you were still dancing. The dance floor was crowded as you felt his hands on you. You turned around and saw the most beautiful pair of eyes that you ever saw in your entire life. It felt natural to be in his arms, to be close to him and smiling at him. Lestat looked into your eyes as both of you danced trough the song. You didn’t want this song to ever finish. His body was pressed against yours and it felt like you were the only ones in the dance floor, in the world. He felt your gentle hands on his arms, going to his shoulders. It felt tingly and he realised how much he missed this human feeling. He laughed when you accidentally stepped on his feet and his laugh sounded more beautiful than thousand melodies that you ever heard. Which musician could ever write a song that sounded like his joy? Who could ever be the inspiration and make any musician to write it?

You watched his blonde long curls shine under the colourful lights. The thought of running your fingers trough his curls sent shivers down your spine. Lestat shook slightly when he heard your thoughts. You didn’t think about laying with him right away or take advantage of things that he might offer you. You only wanted to caress his hair. Something his mother never did. He closed his eyes and leaned down to your neck. The flavour of your blood filled his nostrils in seconds. He felt dizzy and wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt his lips ghost over your skin and you had to hold onto him.

“Wait for me, ma cherie.” He whispered and you opened your eyes. Your arms were on the air, hugging no one. You felt coldness wash over your burning cheeks.

“Wait for me.” You heard his voice again. You turned around but he was no where to be seen. Your hands held your long skirts and put the strands of hair behind your ear. People around you kept dancing as you walked out of the dance floor with shaky legs.

Lestat watched you for the rest of the night from far afar. You didn’t dance again or laugh. You sat down, sipped on your drink, answered question when they were referring to you and looked for him with curious eyes. He felt sense of pride in his heart. Not because a mortal girl was mesmerised by him but because it was you that was mesmerised by him. You were not his prey of the night. He could fill that place with someone anytime, anyone could be his meal tonight. No, you were meant to be alive, and you were meant to be by his side.

For eight long weeks he watched your every step. He watched you wake up every morning, have breakfast with your family, attend your daily lessons, sew with your lady friends, read your books by your window and think about him. He could hear your sweet dreams about him, even when he was in his house. You were waking up everyday, hoping to see him somehow. You thought about telling your mother many times. Maybe she would’ve known about that otherworldly lord that attended the party in the gambling club. He watched you blush like a cherry in summer when one of your mother’s friends pointed out that you were zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts pretty often, just like a young lady in love would do. Your mother laughed it off as you kept your eyes on the floor and your thoughts on Lestat.

He watched you go home that day. Slip away from the heavy layers of your dress, undo your beautifully braided hair and lay on your back on the bed. Your room was lightened by the few candles on your desk and nighstand. He could hear your heart beating fast as you pictured his eyes again and again. Oh how beautiful he was. As if carved by God himself carefully within the image of an angel. You could feel that weird, tingly sensation in your stomach when you remembered his lips on your skin. Lestat smiled softly as you drifted into sleep thinking about him. And he was in your room. He walked to your desk first and looked over the poetry books you were reading, and the some poems you tried to write. A little poet i have hear, Lestat thought.

He walked to your bed. His hands traced over your neck to your chest and lastly to your stomach. His touch was so soft and light, he could feel you hardly. But he could feel your warmth so clearly. He could feel it even with just being in your room. He tried to remember the last time he felt the warmth of humanity in him. Nearly two centuries. He sat on your bed and looked at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to sleep for night without all those memories haunting him? He listened to your heart beats for a moment and the way your eyes were moving slightly during your sleep. He leaned over you, to your neck. He inhaled deeply as his lips were close to your skin. For a moment he feared that his cold lips would wake you up but you didn’t open your yes. Your blood made his mouth watery. He was so hungry. For blood yes, but he was hungry for something more. Something that could make him feel alive after two centuries of being dead. Something that would make his heart beat faster with excitement again.

He wondered if God was looking down at two of you in that moment. If he was, would he let Lestat to defile one more of his human children? If yes, why? Wasn’t it both torture for Lestat and them? He had the blood of thousands on his hands. And there was no soap or water in this world that could wash it away from him. He was carrying all his victims within himself. They were in his veins, staining his fangs.

He laid his body on top of yours slowly, gently. His broad shoulders blocked your eyes and his legs trapped you between them. Your eyes opened wide with the pressure on your stomach. First you could only see darkness, then you felt a cold hand against your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, mon cœur.” He whispered. Your fast breathing calmed in seconds. He looked down at your face and your gaze met with his own. You looked divine under the moonlight, under him. The way your eyes were still half open, in the grasp of sleep. And the way your cheeks were flushed with shyness and excitement. But not fear. His eyes found your lips lastly. Your lips that were slightly open, sucking in little breaths, looking all soft and warm. Lestat felt your hardened tetes peaking trough your nightgown, pressed against his tough chest.

You saw his bright blue eyes go darker with lust and his teeth grow into sharp fangs that only a wild animal would have. You felt his sharp nails digging into your skin and make you bleed. You both hissed as his fingertips got covered with your blood. He snarled just like an animal as the smell of fresh blood surrounded his very being. Your body trembled and you held onto his arms tightly

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered. You did not feel horror, or rage or sorrow. You were only exited as he held you in his arms. Lestat smiled softly at your question. He pressed his nose against your cheek and inhaled your scent one more time. Your humanly, sweet smell made him dizzy. He felt an unfamiliar sensation down below his stomach.

“No, I will give you life. Better than the one you have.” He said and bite down your neck. First thing you felt was a sharp pain that made your neck go numb. You could not move, rather dare to move. It felt like if you moved, the pain would get worse. Lestat let his body go and laid on top of you fully, giving his whole weight. You opened your legs and welcomed his slender figure. And for the first time in decades, Lestat felt like he was home.

The wound that his fangs made on your neck started to burn when he licked and played with it with his tongue. The tears filled your eyes as Lestat laid his head on your neck. He kept drinking from you, slowly, taking little sips with the tip of his tongue, still breathing in your scent. His arms were wrapped around you and you could feel him all over you. He felt himself harden against your hips. He had to do it. He had to put an end to his loneliness.

He slashed his wrist with his nails, deep enough for him to bleed. Then he pressed his wrist against your lips. Your slowly closing eyes opened up at once as the strange taste of blood hit your tongue. Lestat shifted his position to open up the breaches of his trousers. He watched you drink him up hungrily as he lifted your skirt up to your waits. You felt his cold fingertips tracing over your bare stomach and thighs. His blood tasted sweet. Sweeter than the liquors you tasted in the balls, sweeter than the sherbets in the centre of the candies you ate, sweeter than the tropical fruits that your father bought very rarely.

You felt your whole body burn in need, in lust. You felt the buzzing sensation in your brain and your ears ringed. You pushed his hand away and pressed your lips against his own. You had to have him. It was a primal instinct that made you think so. Lestat held your back and positioned himself against your leaking entrance. Your warm walls welcomed him. You were sweet, warm and wet. In that moment it felt like it was all he ever needed. You tasted each other’s blood on your lips as his tongue explored your mouth. The he pushed you back and pressed his wrist back onto your lips. He wanted you to drink, cure your thirst and hunger with him.

He thrusted into you hard and deep as you kept drinking and drinking. He had to tend to you, he had to care for his fledgling. You were his. From head to toe, you belonged to him. Magnus had never claimed him as his own. His mother had no maternal instinct for him. He belonged to no one in this entire world. Nicki was in his own little world despite the love Lestat gave him. And Armand would never belong to anyone. Oh but you, you were perfect for him. Your walls tightened and it drove him over the edge. He ripped his arm away from you and held your face. You whined in need for his blood. His length went deeper and deeper into you as your shaky breaths hit his face.

He heard your heart sync with his own as he looked into your eyes. Your face was covered in blood as you moaned in pleasure. Lestat wanted to get lost in you. He wanted to be buried in you. He spent himself in you with one last thrust and felt your walls tighten more than before as you choked on your breaths and held him tight against you. He looked down at you and saw your thighs and his pubes sticky with blood. I had claimed her in every way possible, he thought.

He let you lay back down as he laid himself on top of you. You tried to catch your breath and he laid his head on your chest, between your breasts. Lestat kissed your skin, his lips left marks of blood on you. Then he felt your hands in his hair. Your fingers played with his lose curls that was ruined when he lost himself in pleasure. He felt your fingertips caressing his forehead and temple, gently, softly. You were still gentle with him even after what he did to you. His shoulders relaxed under your touch and he let out a shaky breath. What was he going to do now? He should’ve ask you before turning you and prisoning you into darkness. How he was different from Magnus when he just grabbed you like a piece of meet and drank your essence of life just to replace it with his rotten, blood of death?

“My family will think I coupled with the devil.” You whispered as you kept caressing his hair. Lestat’s breath hitched in his troath. He looked up to you under his lashes. He looked like a scared little boy in this light. A little boy that feared the monsters under his bed, scared of his father’s rage, scared of life and death. The tears of blood filled his eyes as he looked into your eyes. He saw the bright colour of your irises that matched your new nature. He nodded as he agreed with your statement.

“You have.” He said quietly as he avoided your eyes. He heard your small chuckle, felt his arm move as your chest rised up. You were still so calm. Maybe you were in shock after what he did to you. Poor girl, Lestat thought. I have driven one more innocent into madness.

“How come devil is so pretty then?” You asked as your fingertips trailed around his eyebrows. He stopped frowning with your touch. Then your touch continued to his eyes. Then to his nose. You caressed his straight bone. Finally your fingertips reached to his lips. Your hand brought grace to his well shaped lips. He planted a small kiss to your fingers.

“I never knew devil would look so perfect.” You whispered. As if even you couldn’t believe what you were saying. But Lestat heard you. He heard you so well that he received your compliment as a sharp pain into his heart. Growing up he had always heard that he was a pretty boy. Many of his lovers had said so even after his humanity was ravaged. But he couldn’t see anything but a monster when he looked at himself in the mirror. He had a attraction for violence. He couldn’t feel fulfilled if he didn’t kill. And he couldn’t satisfy himself if he didn’t hurt.

“You don’t know what I am. How can you say I am perfect after what I’ve done to you?” He asked his his tears started to spill from his eyes. You caught them before they could flow down his cheeks. Your small, soft smile remained on your lips. Lestat thought that he never seen someone so beautiful. He was surrounded by your smell, your beauty and compassion. He was covered in your blood and you were carrying his blood. He felt himself warm next to you. Centuries of coldness in his chest was replaced with your smile. He could feel your body calling for him, desperate for his touch and taste. There was a soreness in his troath. He wanted to scream it out.

“You have bewitched me.” You said, almost like a confession. His sharp gaze found your eyes immediately. Lestat’s tears kept spilling from his eyes as he laid his head on your chest again. He stayed in your arms who knows for how long. How could he let you go know? When you were calling him perfect, even after seeing his blood thirsty animalistic side, touching him with love and passion, carrying a piece of him in you, opening your arms for him without a question and accepting him as he is?

The next time Lestat knew loneliness was the hardest time.

You were a great companion, lover and a wife for him after the night he had you in your room, in your bed of youth and innocence. You were a brave little thing that was ready to face an army for him. He felt like the luckiest man alive when your laughs echoed trough the walls of your home. After decades he was finally living, sleeping in a house that he called home. He tried to taught you french but you were impatient and often ran away from his grasp to play his favourite melodies on the piano. He couldn’t get mad at you and watched you for hours as you played, looking at him for the whole time with a big grin on your face. He bought you the finest dresses in your favourite colours, had beautiful jewellery made for you. He loved making you happy more than everything in the whole world.

You were getting into an excited hurry every time you two decide to host a party in your home. People of your city were adoring both of you as a couple. You were so cheerful that there was no room people didn’t smile and the place didn’t lighten up as you entered. Men and women considered themselves lucky if you danced with them. But Lestat knew your first and last dance always belonged to him. Your heart and soul belonged to him. He didn’t know how many nights he pressed his forehead against yours, smiled like a teenage boy in the bliss of love and lifted you into air as your skirts flied behind you and your laughs filled ears of fortunate mortals. His heart was syncing with someone that loved him deeply. And he was so full of love, that he couldn’t remember the times he had lost himself in darkness.

He would have children with you if he could. If he was still a human. He would love to raise a boy that looked like you and a girl that looked like him. He had imagined the picture many nights as he closed his eyes in his coffin, his arms wrapped tight around you. He could see them running around the house, laughing beautifully like you. He could see them growing up and having their own lives as he grew old with you. I was so close to have a life, he thought after every single time he dreamt. The thought brought him sorrow. But he had you. It was more than enough for him.

Lestat met with your family when you two decided to get married. Your parents loved him. They called him a great gentleman with knowledge and culture. A husband fit for my daughter’s hand, your father said. But as the years went by and you still didnt have children or added wrinkle over there and there, your family sank nto silence. The letters became lesser and lesser. By the last letter, it was a dry piece of paper with few words written on it. No feelings, no longing or great love of your mother. You two attended the funeral of your father as he passed away after 15 years of your marriage to Lestat. Your mother’s eyes filled with tears and hatred as you watched your father getting buried. Lestat held you as you fought so hard to keep your tears back from spilling. You could see everyone’s eyes on you, examining you with fear planted in their heart, convinced that you are no longer the girl they knew. You tried to approach your mother and got blocked by cousins and other relatives.

“Tell that devil to leave my poor girl's body and find someone else to be the servant of satan.” You mother’s harsh voice made you step back. And Lestat could hear your heart shatter into pieces. He knew her words were referring to him. How many times I will hear the same thing, phrased differently? He thought. After the funeral you refused to leave your bed chambers for days. You didn’t eat even if Lestat hunted for you. You refused to sleep either. As the sun rose from the east and Lestat closed his coffin, he could hear your muffled cries in your own coffin. You couldn’t get yourself to sleep with him. You couldn’t get yourself to face to world. Your mind kept drifting back to the times you were with your family and how much they loved you. Lestat never wished something as much he wished to hear your thoughts and take your pain away. If he could, he would take all it of to himself. He was used to be in pain since he knew himself. But seeing his sunshine fade away was like tying his hands and feet and abandon him to starve to death.

After days, you left your coffin for the first time. Lestat’s bright eyes scanned your body head to toe. All he could see was a hungry vampire that was broken. Your under eyes were purple and your skin was paler than usual. The veins under your skin was showing trough. You could barely walk and talk as he held you in his arms and carried to the living room. Your hands fell to your thighs and he fell to his knees in front of you. His eyes were filled with concern and fear.

“Ma cherie, you need to eat something.” He said as he tried to make eye contact with you desperately. But your eyes were avoiding him by all cost. Your lips parted and some whispers left your mouth. Lestat leaned closer to hear you.

“It’s you.” He heard you say. He frowned and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly after a moment. You looked like a mess in front of him. And he wanted nothing more than pulling you back into his arms and never let you go.

“You never did.” You said as you finally made eye contact with him. “You are the reason of my current state.”

Lestat felt your words form into a dagger and stab him on his heart. His stomach dropped and he fought the urge to get away from you. He wanted to step away and take one more step away and one more… Your eyes were looking at him differently. There was a feeling he never felt from you before. Hate.

“You made me what I am and you ruined me.” Your voice sharp and your eyes full of bitterness. You collected all your strength to get up but it was not enough to keep you standing. Lestat held you gently before you could fall. Then he felt your sharp nails scratch him and rip his hands away from you.

“Don’t ever touch me.” You hissed and crawled away on the big sofa. Lestat’s eyes could not leave the empty space that you used to sit. He could hear your heart beating fast and he could almost taste the poison in your words you spoke out and you were going to speak out.

“You put me in a prison that I will never be able to leave. No matter what I do.” You said. Lestat looked over you and saw the tears of blood flow down your cheeks. Your fragile figure broke his heart repeatedly. He came in front of you on his knees and tried to hold your hand but you pulled away again. He sighed and did his best to hold his tears back.

“It will get better. In time everything will feel less weird and more normal. You will embrace what you are.” Your eyebrows lifted and a cold smirk appeared on your lips.

“And what is that? A murderer? A sinner? A cursed woman?” Your voice raised with each word and Lestat moved away. He turned around to avoid your eyes and words. His left hand found the corner of the window to lean down and his right hand covered his mouth. Muffled cries left his lungs as he shut his eyes tight.

“You will carry this feeling for the rest of your life.” You said and your presence left the house in seconds. Lestat did not move from his spot as he felt you going away from him. Your heart beats faded away in the night until he couldn’t hear you anymore. Me and you both, he wanted to say.

8 years.

He didn’t see you for 8 years after that night. He knew you were out of the city, far away from him. He called for you every night for a year at first. He screamed your name in darkness, hoping desperately that maybe you would hear and answer him. But you didn’t. Once his voice became hoarse, he wrote letters to your family. But got nothing back. Was it still possible for them to take you back after everything? Your mother couldn’t look at you and your siblings had nothing but fear and disgust in their eyes when they glanced at your direction. You were truly all alone in the entire world. You had no one but the person who trapped you into loneliness.

Lestat wandered around the city for days, searching for your scent, your gentle figure. You were no where to be found. He stopped going out after some time and trapped himself into his house. His coffin was full of pictures he could find of you. For nights he stared at your smiling face, frozen in those moments of happiness and joy. He missed your smile. He craved for you in every way possible. The house felt like a grave and his good old friend, the coldness was back. The memories of his youth started to haunt him one by one as he laid in his coffin during daytime. He could not find sleep when your side of the coffin was all empty.

He thought about his life before and after Magnus. He wondered if he would have a good life still if he wasn’t turned into a vampire. The thought of not meeting with you sent a gut-wrenching pain to his stomach. You’d be centuries apart, in different lives and countries. The picture of you marrying a decent man that your family found for you, wear a wedding dress for him, have his children, raise kids that looked like you and some man, have fights and love making nights with him, grow old with him and hold his hand while you greeted by the merciful arms of death made him tear up. He felt his heart pound painfully fast in his chest. A sob ripped from his throat and this time he didn’t cover his mouth. The guilt ate him from inside out. The honeymoon was over and now, he had the face the fact that he stole your whole life, your one chance of being alive, only for him to take your love for himself, selfishly and hungrily.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks urned into months, Lestat started to lose his hopes of seeing you again. Once again he was assured that no one could love a man like him. He didn’t want to stay in the house that use to be the home to two of you. Every corner was you and he couldn’t finish a day without thinking of the times you had spent together. But the small chance of you coming back made him stay. If you wanted to come back, you would love to see everything same and your husband waiting for you, Lestat told himself in the moments of doubt.

And one day you opened that door and came back. He was in the music room when he heard your heart beats. He felt like the time had frozen and his heart skipped a beat. His fingers on the piano stopped, his lips twitched with longing and tears formed in his eyes. When he saw you again, standing in front of him, beautiful as always, he wanted to get on his knees in front of you and beg you to forgive him for what he did to you. Then his eyes found the little body of the human boy in your arms. The child was maximum 4 and he was shaking uncontrollable. His blonde hair was dump on his forehead and weak breaths mixed with moans were leaving his mouth. Lestat didn’t need to be doctor to know that the boy was in great pain. And perhaps fear.

“He is going to die.” You said and hearing your voice after years made Lestat break down. He had to turn around at the doorway to hide his tears.

“Help me. Please.” Cracked noise from your sore throat was heard in the room. The boy was clinging to your dress, like a little lamb. You walked towards your husband as you held the little child tighter.

“Please save him. For me?” Lestat didn’t know if he was feeling grateful that you were back, guilty for his mistake or angry because you only showed up when you needed something from him. He looked at the boy. He was cute little thing with blue eyes like ocean and long blonde lashes that framed his doe eyes. He saw his clear tears run down his face as he coughed. An innocent, Lestat thought. An innocent dying in the arms of the woman I love.

“You can turn him. I don’t know how to. But you do. Please Lestat.” He saw your tears dripping down to the boy’s hands on your dress. The pain in your voice twisted his stomach. You sounded helpless and he whished nothing more than take this feeling away from you.

He shook his head no.

“I can’t.” He spoke. The dryness in his voice made more tears fall down your eyes. You held the boy closer to your heart. His head rested on your heart as you caressed his blonde curls. The curls that reminded you so much of Lestat.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me, please!” You were ready to beg if you needed to. There was nothing more you wanted than saving his little life. He had to live. He had to survive this filthy world and show everyone that he was strong. And maybe you would have a chance of being a mother.

“Children cannot be turned.” Lestat said as he reached out to hold you but you took a step back. You were shaking your head endlessly as tears kept flowing down your cheeks.

“Great laws forbid it. Otherwise a vampire child would live in misery.” He remembered Marius’s voice as he spoke these words to him before he sent him away. Someone under 17 cannot be given the dark gift.

“Laws? Are you serious? He will die if you don’t save him!” Your scream echoed through the walls and found his ears and heart. Your anger and sorrow shook him slightly. He knew he was walking on thin ice in this very moment. You could turn around and leave him again. And never come back this time. Who knows maybe you would find another vampire out there that could be your companion? Or turn this little boy for you to only make you happy? The thought hardened his blood and tightened his chest.

“My love, he won’t be saved if I turn him. He will live his life in desperation. For something more. Something he will never have.” He said gently as he wiped his tears away. He had to be strong. For both of you. His eyes found the boy again. He was so thin. Lestat wanted to put an end to his suffering. The boy’s eyes opened slightly and he looked at you. His fingers were shut tight over the fabric of your dress. Lestat could feel your love and care for him. You felt like you had to protect him. The boy’s big eyes found him. He looked at him with softness and hope. His eyes are full of life even when his life slips away from his body, just like hers were once upon a time, Lestat thought.

“We can be a family Lestat. He can be our son.” You said quietly. As if you feared that the world would take him away from you if they heard your words. “He looks just like you.”

Lestat didn’t look away from the boy. Yes, he did look like him. His blonde curls were just over his shoulders and his nose was small like Lestat’s nose when he was little. His mother loves him, unlike mine, he told himself.

“You and I and him. We can be happy together. We can try again.” The desperation in your voice broke his heart. You were willing to go back to him. To where you belong. Lestat wanted you back in the house, in his arms, in his coffin. He wanted you on his lips, on his skin. He wanted your fangs back in his neck and your heart on his. He wanted to be the one made you smile again and he wanted to be your dance partner in your extravagant parties. He wanted the boy to watch two of you as you danced and clap for his parents. He wanted to take him into his arms and feel a father’s strength in his bones. He wanted the pure and unconditional love of a son. The one he used to have for his father, way before he became his father’s unexplainable enemy. He wanted to see the boy become a man and be his pride.

“We are killers. A child has no place among the demons.” His words cut sharp as the boy started to cough again. The blood covered his lips as you tried to calm him down. Your own tears were spilling uncontrollably and sobs were coming between your lips. Lestat heard your irregular heartbeats.

“He cannot die.” You said between your sobs and cries as the boy kept coughing his blood out. You fell to your knees and kept his little head on your heart. His small, fragile hands were holding your hand tight. The fear in his eyes were piercing trough Lestat chest. He knelt beside you, held your back to his chest as you rocked back and forth. Both of you stopped breathing as the boy’s heartbeats started to slow down. His breaths calmed down and he closed his eyes. He clinged to your cold skin and did not let your hand go. With his last breath your head dropped back to Lestat’s shoulder. His arms were wrapped tight around both you and the boy. His long fingers intertwined with your and the boy’s hand. His decreasing temperature was slowly matching the coldness of both vampires.

“My son…” he hard your whisper. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling. Lestat buried his face in your neck when your cries filled the room. If only I could take all your pain away, he wanted to say but words did not leave his mouth. He could take your pain away, if only he made you a mother and gave you another family.

Lestat carried you to the coffin when you were exhausted from crying. He took the boy’s lifeless body and burnt it while you slept. He stayed until he was nothing but ash. He looked at the scene as the flames took him away and listened as his bones cracked and his flesh melted down. He didn’t let himself cry. It was his vilest murder. He had no right to feel guilt or shame.

He laid beside you in the coffin. You were whispering and crying still, even in your sleep. His fingers traced over your hands gently. He looked at your sleeping form and took a deep breath. Your scent filled his lungs once again after many years. His insides blossomed and he felt the life come back to his body. You were his home. It didn’t matter to him which form you were in or how you looked like. It didn’t matter if you were laughing or in sorrow. As long as you were beside him, he was happy to have you in any way. And you were back. Lestat knew he could not let you go again. Not after this night. Not when you needed him the most. He was the only one you had left with and he had no intention of leaving you alone. He was going to make you happy again. Just two of you were enough.

“You came into my life when I needed you the most. Now it is my turn to bring you joy.” He whispered to your ear and wrapped his arm around your waist. Your eyes opened as he closed his own. Your gaze traveled trough his beautiful features. He was beautiful as the first day you saw him. Years ago, in that party, where you were still innocent and human. Now I know that devil can be this pretty, you thought.

Lestat was in the corner of your mind for 8 years. You were carrying him in you wherever you traveled to. His face was carved onto your eyelids and you were too afraid to close your eyes. His voice kept echoing in your head when you killed, drank or spared a life. You played his favourite songs on the piano when you needed him by your side. But no matter how much you missed him, you couldn’t forgive him. You knew Lestat De Lioncourt loved you. You felt it in your bones, in your flesh. You carried his love in your veins. But you knew he cursed you forever. And you weren’t naive like you used to be to forgive and forget what he did to you. You were young and in love. How could you know it meant to lose your everything when you gave yourself to him that night?

You could not deny the fact that you were happy at first. Lestat gave you things no one ever did. He respected you, he loved you gently and made you feel like the only woman in the world. And you loved him. There was something in Lestat that pulled you to him. You were like opposite sides of a magnet. It felt right to touch and kiss him. Your heart craved for his heart just like your body craved for him. When he was deep in you, made you scream his name and planted soft kisses to your face, life was good. Until you started to see question marks on people’s faces. You were in peace with your fate and the things came with your new life. But everything seemed meaningless once it cost you your family. Lestat’s arms failed to comfort you when you were invited to your own father’s funeral at the last minute and saw that no one wanted you there. Not even your own mother.

You were motherless and fatherless. You were a demon who could only see the world under the dark sky. You could only stay alive if you killed humans. And seeing Lestat every single moment of your life vexed you. At the time you needed someone to blame other than yourself. You were already aware of your mistakes. And knowing that Lestat still turned you despite the fact that he knew what kind of a curse he was bringing on you, made his existence unbearable. You had to leave. You had to be alone with yourself after decades of marriage. Still, no matter where you went, Lestat was the only thing your heart ever wanted. You would always love him.

Then you found him. Leonardo. That was his name, you tried to remember. He was the son of a homeless woman that lived on the street of your small home. It was nighttime when you heard his cries. You saw his dead mother and him crying his eyes out over her body. You felt your heart shatter into pieces with the sight in front of you. He was so small and so scared. When his blue eyes found you and you could see his face clearly, you knew that you could not leave him to die. His arms reached out to you when you knelt beside him. He didn’t know why his mother wasn’t waking up and taking him into her arms. He was shaking and coughing between his sobs full of fear.

“Mummy.” He cried as you caressed his blonde curls to calm him down. He was cold and hungry and sick. I want to help you. I need to hold you, you thought as he snuggled to your chest. There was only one person who could help you. But could you go back to him? After everything that happened between you? Could you find that strength in yourself or would he take you back?

“Mummy!” Leonardo screeched in your lap in pain as his coughs got harder. His little hands were trying to hold your arms. You had to do it. Both for yourself and him. So that was now you found yourself in front of the door of your home.

You reached to hold his cheek. His breath quickened with your touch but his eyes kept shut. You were pressed against him. Your lips were nearly touching and you could feel his breaths all over your face. Your fingertips traced over his face to his neck and to his chest. His body shook. The soft touch made you both shiver when your hand slipped under his expensive shirt. It has been years since you last touched one another and you realised how much you missed him. You needed to touch him. When you pressed your lips against his, Lestat’s arms wrapped tighter around you. His kisses and biting continued to your neck and to your chest. The soft lips of your lover were sending you into oblivion. You had to be closer to him. Closer than being skin to skin, something more, something more painful, something full of love and the suffering that comes with it. Something that would destroy that pit in your stomach and be worth of all your sorrow.

“I love you. I live you. I-“ Lestat’s raggedy voice stopped as he kept kissing you hungrily. His words weren’t able to keep up with his desire. Your mind was foggy as he undressed himself first, then you. Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were feeling his cold fingers spread the wetness between your legs. His fingertip caressed your leaking opening and moans left your mouth. You could barely see because of tears when you held his face and made him look at you. He was crying too. You kissed him. His tears and yours mixed up and found your pressed lips. The taste of blood was exquisite, vibrating, destructive.

The next thing you knew was you were on top of him, the lid of the coffin was wide opened, he was inside you, fully. You rode him to the bottom of the coffin, hard and deep as his impressive size stretched you out immensely. Your eyes rolled back when his hands groped your breasts. He was talking but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears were ringing and the pain was too great. Your moves became faster and harsher. Your sharp nails digged into his chest and scratched him all over.

“You’re crying.” Finally you heard him and opened your eyes again. It was a mess in his coffin. His chest, between your legs, his face, your body, you were both covered in blood. Yet Lestat managed to smile when he saw the unsettled look on your face. He held your waits tight and moved you back on forth gently on him. He kept caressing your body and say sweet nothings as he controlled your movements.

All the memories of your shared life passed before your eyes as you went closer to the edge. Your legs shook when Lestat’s thumb found your pearl and circled it skilfully. There was a soreness in your throat and your climax was building in your lower belly. The image of two of you filled your mind over and over again. The image of you happy. Would you be able to be like that again? You didn’t know. And learning the answer of this question scared you to death.

“I can’t.” You cried out when your orgasm hit you hard. Your body froze as Lestat kept his hands on you and reached to his climax. His dead seed spilled into you. Deep into your dead womb that was never going to be a home to a babe. Was Lestat enough for you to be fulfilled? Were you going to be enough for him when he got bored of searching for things that made him feel human, made him feel young again?

When you made eye contact again, you could see fear and doubt in his eyes. He was scared that you were going to leave him, just like everyone he ever loved. And he was not sure if it was still you in your body. He was looking for you in the eyes he saw for thousands of times and more. Yet nothing about your eyes felt familiar. Your body felt like you, your kisses felt like you, your heart felt like you. But it was almost like a death itself looking down at him in this moment. He left out a deep breath when you leaned down and laid on his chest.

His heartbeats were fast under your cheek. You turned a little and pressed a tender kiss to his chest. And another. And another. You kissed him until new tears stained your face. You hoped that you could find him again one day. You hoped that you were both humans when you meet again. You hoped that you had a life in another world, with the love of your life. You knew Lestat would find you no matter what. He would love you the same if not more. He would be yours in every lifetime until you had no more love to give.

“I’ll love you forever. Now and always. Until my last day and after.” You whispered but your quiet words reached to Lestat’s ears. He smiled sadly, his tears spilled down to his paper white pillow. He tried to speak but his voice shattered.

“And I you.” He could only say without sobbing. He shut his eyes tight when he heard you fall asleep on him. Tomorrow was going to be better. Everything was going to alright. He had you in his arms. And he needed nothing more.

—

When Lestat opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was pain. His eyes were watering and he couldn’t even press his lips together to cover up his moans. He licked his dry, chapped lips with the last strength before he was breathless again. In the darkness of his coffin, his shiny eyes looked around desperately. He could feel the air hitting his burned body and make his wounds boil. He cried out your name. You were not in his arms. Where could you possibly be? Were you harmed too? What if you were harmed worse than him? You were younger and weaker than your maker. Lestat had to put himself together and find you, his dear fledgling. When he pushed opened his coffin lid, he saw the the wide open curtains that were usually closed. It was dark outside. The moon light was the only thing that was bright in the pitch black room.

It was only then he saw his burned body. Front of his arms, his whole chest, his thighs and his face were all covered in ashy wounds that were slowly healing. His blood red flesh was showing trough the burned skin pieces. They sizzled as the new skin was forming over them. But before he could think about his wounds, he had to find you. Why the curtains were open? They were always supposed to be shut. Just in case if any of you had to wake up when sun was still up during the day. He dragged his feet to the short, wide corridor of the second floor. All the doors and the windows were open, he frowned in confusion. His head was banging quiet like a bomb explosion. His body was aching and he was afraid. He was afraid just like the night Magnus took him from his room.

He walked fast as he could and entered the music room. You were no where to be seen. Lestat’s nose scrunched when he breathed in the strange smell in the room. He felt the smell stick onto his lungs and enter every bit of him. It was haunting and indescribable. It almost felt like he could taste it on his tongue. That strange, unpleasant, obnoxious flavour was so familiar on Lestat’s throat, yet he could find no name for it. He took few steps to his piano. His favourite tunes ringed in his ears. He could see your ghost of a fingers on the keyboard, playing all gracefully.

When he looked down, a pile of grey, powdery substance caught his attention. How could he possibly not see this when he entered the room? He got on his knees and the source of smell was undeniably found. As he touched the powder, he felt his whole body shake in horror. His eyes closed tight when the faded memory of you getting up from the coffin came back.

“I love you. I love you. I love…” the words were repeated over and over again. Not thousands but maybe hundreds and thousands of times. He could hear you. You were not in the coffin. He could hear your steps in the room. Then he could hear your steps in the corridor. You were going in and out of rooms. Lestat could hear you mumbling things under your breath. He could hear your heartbeats and your rushed moves.

He wanted to open the lid of his coffin and get out. It was probably near sunrise and you had to go back to sleeping. When he pushed the lid, something blocked his exit. He tried to kick it and punch it when he heard you play the piano and keep talking.

“I want to see the sun rise in the sky again.” You said. “I want to see the clouds on the blue ocean of time.”

He called for you but you were not listening to him. As you played the melody from start to end, the fear in Lestat’s heart grew stronger. And when your fingers stopped, he felt a sharp pain all over his body. It was something he had never felt before. The greatest pain he felt was when he was transformed. He could never forget what it felt like for the next thousand years. But this, this was different. It was coming from somewhere deep. He wanted to rip his stomach open and find the core of the pain. His coffin got filled with his dreadful scream and he heard you shout in agony. He felt the pain in every inch of his body. With one last hard kick, he opened the lid successfully. Only to be greeted by bright, warm sunlight that was glowing beautifully in your shared chambers.

His skin started to burn immediately, and it was then Lestat knew what was happening. His jaw clenched and his tears burned his wounds when he heard your screams from the other side of the house.

“What have you done?!” He shouted but you didn’t respond. The sunlight was nothing compared the pain he was in as you kept burning. He could feel his blood boil in veins as yours dried up under the daylight. You were leaving him.

‘I have loved you, with everything I had in me.’ Lestat didn’t know if you spoke aloud or he just imagined, rather wished you have said it. Maybe it wasn’t too late, Lestat tried to get up but his body was damaged enormously. He could feel the sunlight penetrate into his bones with every second he was spending in front of the open curtains. But he had to save you! He cried and tried to get up again. And again and again. Until he couldn’t hear your screams anymore.

The house fell into a dead silence in seconds. Only thing that could be heard was the silent sizzling of Lestat’s burns. He stoped breathing and he stoped trying to get up. His lifeless eyes fell onto his hands. He laid back in his coffin and pulled the lid back on with a stinging move.

It was a nightmare. An unbelievably bad nightmare. Maybe the worst one he had have been for decades. You were sleeping in your own coffin peacefully. Lestat was going to see you when sun came down and he was going to kiss your lips with a smile on his face. He was going to carry you around the house like a princess and read your favourite poems just for you. You were going to forgive. And maybe in time, you were going to forget. He was going to change and try to be someone better than who he was now. Both of you were going to be happy again, together. He smiled with excitement with the thoughts on his mind. The smell of burned flesh tickled his nose.

—

“You do not know this girl!” Lestat said aggressively as he watched Louis lay the little girl on the bed carefully. Louis’s bright green eyes were full of fear and guilt when he faced Lestat again.

“Make her like us!” He said with a bitter hope in his voice. Lestat pressed his lips together when he heard him utter those words. This cannot be happening, he assured himself hopelessly.

“Non c’est impossible. Elle est trop jeune!” Lestat said in frustration as Louis walked closer to him with hurry. Lestat's heart was pounding fast in his chest. The images of a distant memory was blurring his vision. The same eyes from decades ago were looking at him again. The same eyes that were full of guilt, sorrow and hope with an innocent child at the edge of death in the arms of the person he loved. His chest tightened when Louis kept talking, pleading to save the little girl’s life. What could Lestat do? Was he curse to live same life over and over again for the rest of the eternity?

He could never forget you. He didn’t know how long he mourned you. Days, months, years? Maybe he was still mourning you with the little box in his closet that was filled with your ashes. It took him years to find the courage to try again. And when he kissed Louis for the first time, he felt like finding light in his murky world. But guilt ate him inside out. He wondered if you would be wounded when you learned that he was capable of loving again. He tried to reassure himself that the thing he had with Louis was different than what he had with you. You would always be his wife. Your wedding ring on a necklace that was around his neck was the proof of it.

“Please I can’t have her die!” The pain in Louis’s voice broke his heart. He remembered this feeling so well that it almost hit him on the face. He remembered how it felt like to be helpless when his lover was begging him to change things, set things right and how he couldn’t do it.

“The gift cannot be given to children.” He said when his anger and fear filled him to his limit. The look on Louis’s face twisted something in his stomach.

“What do you mean? Yes it can.” Louis said breathlessly as he tried to find his strength back. All he needed was to save this girl’s precious life. She laid on the bed, unconscious, coughing out the flames silently and she was all he needed in that moment.

“The great laws forbid it!” Lestat spited out as if he had poison on his tongue. Anger appeared on Louis’s face and Lestat regretted what he just said.

“The great laws?” Louis said mockingly. He sounded bitter and every octave of his voice cut both men deeply. “She gonna die in front of us!”

The next thing Lestat knew was that Louis dragged the little girl on the flour, cried, begged, cried, fell on his knees in front of his companion and cried. Louis’s usually gentle hands found Lestat’s body, he held onto him like he was the last thing on the world.

“Please, please.” It was all Lestat could hear. And the little girl’s raggedy breaths that were becoming slower and slower.

“My beautiful little daughter.” Lestat could not swallow, could not hold his tears back or his heartbeats stable when he heard Louis’s voice shatter as he said the words. He hated how his story repeated itself. He hated how he was always the one who had to make this decision.

“Please I’ll be anything.” Louis begged and cried. Lestat wanted to curl into a ball and never wake up again. He looked down at this companion, his lover, the man who saved him, begging him to make him a father.

“Please, please, please…” It was all Louis was saying when Lestat remembered your screams after your little boy died. He remembered how yours eyes looked dead inside and even your smiles were full of grief. He remembered how you begged him and he didn’t listen to you. And then how he lost you. He was a fool to think that you were going to be alright after your son died. He was a fool to think you were going to forgive him and be happy again. And he was a fool to think that you were going to stay with him after what he did to you.

There was a no day passed after your death that he didn’t regret not turning that boy. Great laws forbid it! At what cost he had followed the laws when he was on the other side of the world, oceans away from the last vampire he had seen? He regretted his choice everyday of his last few years and he didn’t know if he would be able to mourn one more person.

He looked down at Louis and saw your crying eyes stare back at him. He looked up instantly.

“You will regret this for the rest of your life.” He said. Yet he didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Louis. Maybe both. He walked to the little girl on the floor and picked her body with ease. Poor thing was covered in burns and couldn’t open her eyes. His blue eyes found Louis’s relieved shoulders and his fangs found the girl’s small neck.

[dee-writes-anime]

So I saw that your requests are open and that you do JJK and I was wondering if you’d be interested in the idea buzzing in my brain for the past week. Nanami is a total jazz lover in my mind and there’s a jazz club in town and the reader is a jazz singer full of passion. I’m thinking Nanami falls head over heels for reader especially with her voice as she sings love songs. Also I love your work it’s fantastic and always a joy to read.

The Echoing, All-Encompassing Sound of Love

FEATURING Kento Nanami x Female Reader

SUMMARY The Blue Note was a place Nanami went to unwind after hard, long days of endless, meaningless work. It was a place for him to fall into the shadows and familiarity of the deep blues and jazz, it was a comfort, but nothing had ever touched him, enraptured him like you had when you stepped on that stage.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, introspective??, Kento gushing over his WOMAN (bark bark bark), obsessed man, this is some deep, soulful shit yall, only edited ever so slightly T-T

AUTHORS NOTE I have no idea where I went with this or how it got to this point, but I really hope I brought your vision to life darling anon. <3

The jazz club, nestled in the heart of the city, is alive with an intimate, cozy energy. The space is dimly lit, with soft, warm lighting casting long shadows across the room. A thin haze of smoke lingers in the air, adding to the club's mystique. The gentle hum of quiet conversations mixes with the soft clinking of glasses and the occasional low laugh, creating a comforting backdrop for the evening.

At a small, round table near the stage, Kento Nanami sits, his posture relaxed yet composed. His impeccably tailored suit fits him perfectly, as always. He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid catching the faint light. His sharp gaze is focused on the stage, where musicians are setting up their instruments, tuning and adjusting, preparing for the night’s performance. The familiar ritual of the pre-show calm settles over him, a welcome escape from the chaos of his usual day-to-day life.

Nanami takes a sip of his drink, savoring the smooth burn as it slides down his throat, and leans back slightly in his chair. His eyes flicker around the room, taking in the scattered patrons, each one lost in their own world of jazz and ambiance. He’s been coming to this club for a few weeks now, drawn by the soothing allure of the music and the promise of an evening where the only battles to be fought are between trumpet solos and sultry saxophone notes.

He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be different. Tonight, a new performer is set to take the stage, and with her first note, Nanami’s world will begin to shift in ways he never expected.

Nanami wasn’t the type to indulge in luxuries. He preferred the quiet satisfaction of a well-brewed cup of coffee, the crisp pages of a book, the efficiency of a perfectly executed plan. But there was something about this jazz club that drew him in like a moth to a flame. The dim lighting, the haze of smoke, the low hum of the bass—these were not things he typically sought out, but here, in this place, they provided a strange sense of comfort.

Tonight, the club is alive with its usual hum of activity. Patrons sit scattered around small tables, their faces barely visible in the shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of flickering candles. The scent of whiskey and old leather mingles with the faint traces of smoke, creating an atmosphere that is both timeless and ephemeral. The band on stage plays a slow, steady rhythm, a saxophone gently crying out a mournful tune that fills the room with a bittersweet nostalgia.

Nanami sits at his usual table, close enough to the stage to see every detail, yet far enough to remain unnoticed by most. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, his suit crisp and neat despite the casual setting. He swirls his glass of whiskey, watching the ice cubes clink softly against the sides, his gaze occasionally drifting to the stage. His mind is calm, his thoughts quieted by the gentle rhythm of the music. He’s been coming here for weeks now, finding solace in the music, in the anonymity of the darkened room.

But tonight is different.

The moment you step on stage, something shifts in the air. It’s as if the very essence of the club changes, the room becoming quieter, the audience collectively holding its breath in anticipation. Nanami feels it too—a subtle tightening in his chest, a flutter he can’t quite name. He watches as you move into the spotlight, the soft, golden light catching on the sequins of your dress, making you shimmer like a dream. Your eyes are closed, your posture relaxed yet poised, as if you’re in a world all your own.

And then you start to sing.

The first note is like a whisper, gentle and soft, yet it carries through the room with a clarity that demands attention. Your voice is unlike anything Nanami has ever heard—smooth as honey, rich as velvet, with a depth that speaks of experiences and emotions he can only begin to imagine. Each note is carefully controlled, each word filled with emotion, and he finds himself leaning forward slightly, his focus entirely on you.

As you continue, your voice grows stronger, more confident, filling the room with a warmth that wraps around everyone like a comforting embrace. The lyrics are a love song, simple yet profound, speaking of longing and hope, of heartache and desire. Nanami feels each word as if it’s directed at him, as if you’re singing just for him, your gaze occasionally sweeping across the audience, and he can’t help but wonder if you see him.

The way you move on stage is mesmerizing. You sway gently to the rhythm, your hands occasionally rising to emphasize a particularly powerful line. There’s a passion in your performance, a raw emotion that spills out with every note, making it impossible to look away. Nanami’s heart races, a strange sensation for someone usually so composed. He doesn’t know why, but something about you, about this moment, feels significant—like a turning point he didn’t see coming.

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the liquid warming him from the inside out, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth your voice brings. As you hit a high note, the room seems to hold its breath, and Nanami feels a shiver run down his spine. He’s never felt so captivated, so drawn to someone. It’s as if your voice is a thread, pulling him closer, wrapping around his heart and refusing to let go.

For the first time in a long while, Nanami feels something beyond the constant grind of his duties. He feels alive, his senses heightened by the music, by your presence. He doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know your story, but in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the music, the way your voice makes him feel, and the strange, undeniable pull he feels toward you.

He tries to stay for the rest of the night, anticipating the moment he can go up and introduce himself when all the performers do crowd work. However, it seems his phone has different plans as it buzzes insistently in the back pocket of his slacks, calling him cruelly away from the opportunity to catch your name, to hear your voice once more. Kento Nanami doesn't consider a man who's easy to anger, but that night, having lost the opportunity to know you, to catch just a single glimpse at your soul again, he can't help but feel his blood boil under his skin.

As he leaves the club, he convinces himself that he will see you again, that he will take the next opportunity as it comes and talk to you.

And that is how Kento Nanami quickly becomes a fixture at The Blue Note, his visits growing more frequent, timed perfectly to coincide with your performances.

He never deviates from his routine: arriving a few minutes before your set, he always sits at the same small table near the stage, his broad shoulders relaxed yet somehow still commanding in his perfectly tailored suit. He orders a single glass of whiskey, savoring it slowly throughout the evening.

His presence is quiet but unyielding, like a shadow that’s always there, watching, observing. Every time you step on stage, his gaze is already on you, unwavering, a steady anchor amidst the flickering candlelight and swirling smoke. It’s a look that’s intense, focused, as if he’s trying to unravel the secrets hidden within each note you sing.

You’ve noticed him, of course—how could you not? At first, he was just another face in the crowd, another patron drawn to the allure of jazz and dim lighting. But as the weeks passed, you found your eyes lingering on him more and more, intrigued by his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed to hang on to every word you sang. There was a mystery about him, a sense of restraint that made you wonder what thoughts lay hidden behind those piercing eyes.

As the days turn into weeks, his presence becomes a comfort, a constant in the ever-changing tide of the club’s clientele. You start to look for him as you step on stage, your gaze naturally drifting to his usual spot. The way he watches you feels different from the others—more profound, more attentive, as if he’s listening not just with his ears, but with his entire being.

And each time you sing, you can’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a silent understanding that grows stronger with every performance. His steady gaze becomes a source of inspiration, a quiet encouragement that pushes you to pour even more of yourself into each song. It’s almost as if you’re singing just for him, even though you’ve never exchanged a single word.

One evening, after a particularly soulful rendition of an old jazz standard, you notice him again. He’s there, as always, sitting at his usual table, his eyes following you with that same intense focus. But tonight feels different. There’s something in his gaze that you can’t quite place—an emotion that lingers in the air like the final note of a song.

The club is quieter than usual tonight, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room. As you step off the stage, your heart still pounding from the performance, you find yourself drawn to him, almost against your will. You’re not sure what compels you—perhaps it’s the curiosity that’s been building inside you for weeks, or maybe it’s the intensity of his focus, the way he seems to see right through you, as if he knows every emotion behind your songs.

You make your way through the tables, your steps slow and deliberate, your heart beating a little faster with each one. As you approach, you notice the subtle shift in his expression—his eyes widening slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his otherwise stoic face. He sets his glass down carefully, his movements calm and measured, but you can see the tension in the way he sits up straighter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Hi,” you say softly, your voice carrying just above the soft hum of the club. Up close, you notice the sharp angles of his face, the way his hair falls neatly over his forehead, and the intensity of his eyes—eyes that are watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something deeper.

He nods slightly, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “Hello,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, matching the ambiance of the club perfectly. There’s a moment of silence, the kind that hangs heavy with unspoken questions and unsaid words.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “I’ve noticed you here before,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “You come to listen a lot.”

Nanami’s eyes soften, and he nods again. “I do,” he admits, his gaze steady and sincere. “You have a… remarkable voice. It’s not something one can easily forget.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in them striking a chord deep within you. You smile, a genuine, warm smile that reaches your eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

He tilts his head slightly, a subtle curiosity playing across his features. “From me?”

You nod, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence. “Yes. You always seem so… focused. It’s hard not to wonder what you’re thinking.”

Nanami chuckles softly, a rare sound that seems to surprise even him. “I suppose I’m just… listening,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “Trying to understand the emotion behind each song. You sing with such passion; it’s hard not to be drawn in.”

Your heart flutters at his words, at the honesty in them. For a moment, the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, smoky club, sharing a connection that feels almost tangible.

As the evening goes on, the conversation flows naturally, each word revealing a little more about the enigmatic man who has been such a mystery to you. And as you talk, you find yourself wanting to know more, to understand the quiet strength behind his stoic exterior, and to uncover the emotions that lie beneath his calm façade.

Tonight, you’ve taken the first step into a new rhythm, one that neither of you could have anticipated.

But your exploration ends there-- at least, for the time being as Nanami finds himself pulled back into the Jujutsu world, all his extra time lost to consistent missions and training as a grade-one sorcerer.

It's only about a month later that he is finally able to force just enough time into his exhausting schedule to come see you again, the dim glow of the jazz club's lights dances across the walls, and the familiar hum of chatter fills the room as patrons settle in for another night of music.

Nanami sits at his usual table, but tonight feels different. His normally calm and composed demeanor is slightly frayed at the edges. His fingers tap nervously against the rim of his glass, and he takes a slow, deep breath. He’s been thinking about this moment for weeks, rehearsing his words, imagining every possible outcome.

He can no longer ignore the pull he feels toward you—the singer who has become more than just a beautiful voice on stage. Every performance has drawn him deeper into your world, and he finds himself wanting more. He wants to know you, to understand the person behind the melodies that have captivated him so completely.

As the final notes of your current song fade, you take a small bow, the audience’s applause a warm, familiar comfort. When you lift your gaze, your eyes naturally drift to his spot, widening ever so slightly when you see him watching you with that same intense focus. There’s something different in his expression tonight, a hint of determination that makes your heart skip a beat.

When the set ends, you make your way offstage, your steps lighter than usual. As you head toward the bar for a drink, you see him rise from his table, his tall figure cutting through the smoky haze of the club. He’s coming toward you, his movements purposeful but not rushed. There’s a resolve in his stride, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken with anticipation.

“Hi again,” you greet him with a smile as he approaches, leaning casually against the bar. Up close, he’s as striking as ever, his presence commanding but not overpowering. There’s a softness to his eyes tonight, a warmth that wasn’t there before. "Long time no see."

“Hello,” he responds, his voice a touch lower than usual, an embarrassed blush lightly dusting his sharp cheekbones. He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. You can see the faintest hint of nervousness in the way he briefly glances away before meeting your gaze again. “I wanted to… say something.” He hesitates, then continues, “First, I wanted to apologize for my absence after our conversation. I see how it might seem that my lack of attendance is directly related, and I want to make it clear that it wasn't."

"That's alright," you say so sweetly, your voice dripping with a honey that doesn't reach the stage. It makes him pause, that soulful tone that you sing with is so at odds with your personality it almost makes him want to enquire whether or not you are the same woman.

But he has more important things to do, like reveal his truth. "A-and also.. your voice… it moves me in ways I can’t quite explain. It’s like every note, every word carries a piece of you, and… it reaches me.”

His confession is quiet, almost lost in the low murmur of the club, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes now, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the composed exterior.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you feel a playful urge to lighten the moment. “So, does that make you my most dedicated fan?” you tease gently, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Nanami chuckles softly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. “I suppose it does,” he admits, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoicism. “I can’t seem to stay away.”

There’s a moment of shared laughter, and in that instant, the tension between you softens, replaced by a warm, unspoken connection. It’s a feeling that’s been building for weeks, and now, standing here with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you have a favorite song from my set?” you ask, curious to know more about the quiet man who seems to hang on your every word.

Without a second’s hesitation, he answers, “The ballad you sing—the one about longing and quiet devotion. It… resonates with me.”

You nod, recognizing the song he’s referring to. It’s one of your favorites too, a song filled with deep emotions, a story of unspoken love and silent yearning. His choice surprises you, but it also makes your heart flutter. There’s something incredibly personal about his answer, something that touches a place deep within you.

As the evening progresses, you prepare for the next set. Nanami returns to his table, but there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor, a subtle shift in his posture. You take the stage again, the band picking up the soft, familiar notes of the ballad he mentioned. The room falls silent as you begin to sing.

Your voice carries through the club, each note delicate and filled with emotion. As you sing, your eyes search the crowd, drawn inevitably to him. When your gaze finally meets his, it feels like the air is charged with electricity. His eyes are locked on yours, and suddenly, the song takes on a whole new meaning. It’s no longer just a performance; it’s a conversation, a silent exchange of feelings that neither of you has dared to voice until now.

The words spill from your lips with a newfound intensity, each lyric filled with the raw emotion that’s been building inside you since the moment you first saw him. The love song, once a simple ballad, now feels like a confession, a declaration wrapped in melody. You can see it in his eyes too—a depth of feeling that mirrors your own, a quiet devotion that makes your heart race.

As the final note fades into the silence, you realize that the room has disappeared, leaving just the two of you connected by the invisible thread of the music. The applause is distant, a faint echo of reality, but all you can focus on is the way he’s looking at you—as if you are the only person in the world.

In that moment, under the soft glow of the club’s lights, something shifts between you. It’s a beginning, a step into uncharted territory, but it feels right. And as you both stand there, wrapped in the warmth of the song and the quiet understanding between you, you know that whatever comes next, it’s a melody you’re both eager to explore.

It's not long before the nights at The Blue Note become something more than just performances and applause. After the crowd disperses and the lights dim, the club transforms into a sanctuary of quiet conversations and shared silences. Nanami stays longer now, his reserved demeanor softening with each passing evening. You sit together at the bar or at his usual table near the stage, sometimes talking late into the night, sometimes just sitting in a comfortable silence that says more than words ever could.

You’ve come to look forward to these moments—the way Nanami listens so intently when you speak, as if every word matters, the way his eyes soften when he catches you smiling. There’s a calm about him, a quiet strength that you find yourself drawn to more and more. He never pushes, never asks for more than you’re willing to give. Instead, he’s just… there. A steady presence that has quickly become a constant in your life.

You learn things about him in these quiet hours. He speaks of his work in vague terms, his shoulders tensing slightly whenever the topic drifts too close. But he’s open about his love for jazz, about how he finds solace in the melodies and rhythms. He tells you about the first time he heard you sing, how something inside him shifted, how he knew he would return again and again.

In return, you share pieces of yourself with him—stories of your childhood, your love for music, and how it’s the one thing that has always made you feel truly alive. You tell him about the first time you sang on a stage, how nervous you were, and how that fear melted away the moment you began to sing. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

As the days turn into weeks, an unspoken bond forms between you. It’s there in the way Nanami orders your favorite drink without you asking, in the way he waits for you to finish after every performance, ready with a quiet smile and a listening ear. It’s in the way you look for him in the crowd, your heart lifting just a little each time you find him sitting at his usual spot, watching you with that steady, unyielding gaze.

You begin to see the depth of Nanami in the little things—the way he’s always mindful of your space, the way he listens more than he speaks, and how his rare, gentle smiles are more precious than any grand gesture. He shows his affection in thoughtful ways—a book he thought you might like, a warm cup of tea on a rainy night, a steady hand at your back when you’re feeling overwhelmed.

It’s these moments, small but meaningful, that make you realize just how much he’s come to mean to you. He’s become more than just a regular at the club, more than just a face in the crowd. He’s someone you’ve come to rely on, someone whose presence brings a sense of calm and comfort that you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Tonight, the club is busier than usual, the crowd buzzing with energy. You’re back on stage, the warm glow of the spotlight casting a soft halo around you. The band starts to play the familiar opening notes of a love song, the same ballad Nanami had mentioned that night—the one filled with longing and quiet devotion. Your heart flutters with a mix of nerves and excitement. Tonight feels different, charged with a new kind of energy.

As you begin to sing, your eyes naturally seek him out. Nanami is there, as always, sitting at his usual table. But tonight, there’s no distance between you. He’s no longer just a quiet admirer in the shadows; he’s someone who knows your stories, someone who’s seen you in your most vulnerable moments. And when your gaze meets his, it’s like the whole room falls away, leaving just the two of you connected by the music.

Your voice carries through the club, each note filled with a tenderness that wasn’t there before. You sing for him now, every word an unspoken confession, every melody a shared memory. The song is more than just a performance; it’s a dialogue, a way to say all the things you haven’t yet put into words.

Nanami watches you with a quiet intensity, his eyes soft and warm. You can see the emotion there, the depth of feeling that he so rarely shows. And as you sing, you can feel it too—a warmth spreading through your chest, a sense of belonging that makes you feel more alive than ever.

The final notes of the song hang in the air, a delicate echo that slowly fades into the silence. The crowd erupts in applause, but all you hear is the quiet, steady beat of your heart, all you see is the way Nanami’s lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile.

You take a small bow, but your eyes never leave his. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent promise that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. And in that moment, under the soft lights of the club, with the music still lingering in the air, you know that you’ve found something special—something worth holding onto.

As the night draws to a close and the crowd begins to thin, you make your way off the stage, your steps light and purposeful. Nanami is waiting for you, his figure a steady presence amidst the shifting shadows. He doesn’t say anything as you approach, but his eyes speak volumes—filled with a quiet devotion that makes your heart swell.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying just above the soft hum of the remaining patrons.

“Thank you,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “For everything.”

Nanami nods, his expression gentle, and without another word, he offers you his hand. You take it, feeling the warmth of his touch, the strength of his grip—a silent promise that whatever comes next, you won’t have to face it alone.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, with the music still echoing softly around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[witch-hazels-musings]

a gesture

Warning -> fluff | reader gets a blister on their foot, genshin men notice and provide respite from the discomfort | pre-relationship (it's silly, and dumb, but let me have this)

Includes: Diluc, Xiao

Character X GN Reader (adventure guild reader*) | Anthology

A-N: I was planning on writing for a few more characters, but I'm a bit slow in my genshin right now, plus I *should* be resting ... 人(_ _*)

Diluc

"Be right there!" you shouted over the calls echoing in the hall. Your hand dropped from your lips and back to the stack of rolled papers in your arms. The guild was busier than normal. Perhaps it was because of the snow fading from the streets, or the warmer wind blowing in from the south. Being surrounded by the lake meant damper and colder winters, but you didn't mind.

You loved the snow.

What you didn't love was returning to restrictive shoes now that the cobblestone streets were less barred by ice. You missed your warm fur-lined boots.

"Hey, got a few more requests for you to review," you told one of the auditors as you leaned onto the polished wood counter that separated you from the workers just inside. You tapped the toe of your shoe on the floor to force room between your heel and the leather rubbing against it. "Oh, and this came from Alfry." You reached into your pocket and handed a folded, sealed letter to the attendant.

After waiting for several minutes, and shifting from one foot to the other - relief waning and waxing - you made your way outside toward the Kiosk near the front of Mondstadt. It took a while, you were particularly slow on the stone steps of the city since each one put added pressure on your heels. You could feel a blister on the horizon.

Katheryne greeted you with a wave when she saw you.

She was, without a doubt, one of your favorite people. She didn't lock you in long, uninteresting conversations about her life outside of work. She just thanked you for the updated commissions and let you be on your way. You wished everyone was like Katheryne.

It wasn't that you hated talking to people. You just preferred to get your work done and found it distracting to get lost in small talk about the weather. But you learned to be pleasant and control your drifting eyes that willed your soul to be anywhere but there.

When you approached the Guild, someone called you over and explained you were being requested in one of the assessment rooms. A room used by evaluators and requestors to work out the details of a commission. You weren't an evaluator - so who could possibly be asking for you?

You imagined several scenarios except for this one. The one where Diluc Ragnvindr was standing on the other side of the door, waiting for - you. In fact, you were so unprepared, taken aback, that you rechecked the room number.

It was odd to see Diluc outside of his normal patterns. The man was routine. Days spent at Angels Share, days absent from the city while he tended to his estate at the Dawn Winery. You had several run-ins with him over the years since his reappearance, but they were always in public spaces. Fleeting, nervous moments when you'd gather the courage to ask him for a drink while he worked or make polite - short - conversation when he dropped it off. You didn't even know he knew you worked at the Adventurers Guild.

"Sir Ragnvindr, is something - how can I help you?" you asked as you stepped inside the room and let the heavy door close behind you.

"Have I pulled you away from your work?"

"Yes," you said but caught yourself, "No. I mean, yes, but it's alright. Are you alright?" The thought crossed your mind that perhaps something had happened. An issue at the Winery or the tavern, maybe he thought you were the best person to help him? Not sure why. But you did know a lot of adventurers.

"I am well. Please," he gestured to the table and chairs beside him. Crossing the room, you noticed a tall, decorative bag on the corner of the table. The top was knotted by someone with experience. Diluc placed his hand on the table, and you stopped a few feet from him. He looked -- odd. Out of sorts even.

"Did you need something from the Guild? I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm not an evaluator, but I can find someone who can assist you in building a commission report."

"I do not require one. I am ..." he clenched his jaw and fumbled. "Please, sit," he repeated, gesturing to the chair slightly pulled out beside you.

Confused, you took a seat.

You considered yourself a rational person, a relatively calm person. One that could keep their head in most situations, but when the man you could hardly look at long enough to breathe knelt in front of you, lifted your calf, and began to untie your shoe, you yelped so loud it startled him.

"Dilu- I mean, Sir Ragnvindr, what are you doing!?" You reached for his arm but pulled back at the last second. A war raged inside your mind - one billowing urge shouted to push him away so you could steady your fluttering heart, and the other shrieked, terrified of making contact out of fear he'd know the truths of your unsettled heart.

"These are uncomfortable, are they not?"

You glanced at your shoes. "I mean - yes, but you don't have to worry about it. Please," you begged, fingers hovering above his hand, body fighting the will to rip free from his grasp. "Sir Ragn-"

"Diluc," he interrupted and looked up at you, "I much prefer when you call me Diluc."

You didn't know how to respond, didn't know how to react, so you just sat frozen while he carefully removed your shoes and tended to the wounds they had caused.

His touch was warm. Violently warm. It was like heat seeped from every bit of him. Tendrils of flames licked across his brow, his cheeks, his jawline. You were so close you could smell the earth and trapped dust from the melting snow trapped in his clothes.

He placed the bandage across your foot and carefully wrapped it until it was secure.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled. You were stuck between being embarrassed by what was happening and being smitten by it. You were in a haze. Your eyes could barely focus on his hands as he worked, barely noticing the stick he placed beside your right foot. The medicine he applied had soothed the soft burn of the blister.

He stood and a wave of his scent washed over you. It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you reached for your shoes that he had placed on the table.

"I'll repay you for the treatment."

"No need," he replied as he tugged at the decorative cloth bag. His back blocked you from what was inside. You worked on stretching the laces of your shoes so you could slip them over your foot. Just as you were about to place them on, Diluc returned and stalled your actions, taking the shoe from you and returning it to the table. He easily held your calf and slipped on another shoe. A flat, wide one that wouldn't rub against you the way your own had. "How does it fit?" he asked as he carefully slid it over your heel and adjusted it until it was on completely.

The shoe was elegant, beautiful. Something you would only dream of buying - most of your clothes were from sales and take-bins of neighbors doing their yearly cleaning. These were --

"Wait - did you buy these?"

"I did. But I was unaware of your size. If these are not satisfactory, I purchased several others which may be more suitable for you," he explained and that's when you noticed the stack of boxes now exposed from the cloth bag. Two boxes were placed to the side, another still in it, while the last was open, the lid placed at an angle as if forgotten.

"You bought," you paused, disbelief pulling in your brows, "multiple pairs?"

"It seemed better to purchase multiple than to guess. Though I could have inquired from you directly," he trailed off as if the thought had only just crossed his mind.

But only one crossed yours, "Why?"

He looked up at you, still kneeling and preparing your other foot to accept your new shoes' partner, "I notice you. You would be unable to work in this state."

"Noticed me?"

"Yes. Besides, I couldn't rightfully ... never mind."

"What," you blurted, hanging on his every word.

He glanced at you and then looked back at your feet. There was a pause, a heavy pause in the air. "To see you in discomfort. It - It did not sit well with me."

You sat in silence as he ensured the shoes fit, as he laced them, and made sure they wouldn't irritate the bandage. You held your tongue and swallowed the pounding pressure in your chest when he lifted you from the chair and made sure you could stand before he let go.

You breathed him in while he stood before you.

"I will be at Angel's Share tonight. I can set aside some time for you, should you find yourself-"

"Okay," you blurted again, followed it up with an embarrassed sorry. It made him laugh, and you snatch the lurching urge to jump on him.

"Until then," he hummed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do not rush in the meantime. I have already given my recommendations to the guild to allow you rest, though I do not imagine you'll heed it."

Diluc packed up the bag and bid you farewell, lingering his voice on the sound of your name, his eyes on your warm face. He slipped out of the room and left you in disbelief in a pair of beautiful crimson shoes.

--

Xiao

Why did you decide to wear these shoes?

You thought at least twenty times as you trudged down the path. As you hiked over the mountain passes that had seen better days in their time. A giant bolder blocked you a few paces back and you were still brushing yourself off from the unprepared scramble; you found a tear in your clothes and groaned.

For an adventurer, you got off pretty lucky. Only taking the low-priced requests. Ones left for running between towns, helping clear out someone's back room, or helping with a shipment. You weren't interested in the daring adventures that some in the guild would take, snatch up before you even had a chance to read the whole thing. And you certainly weren't about to follow in the footsteps of that strange traveler who - for a while - was accused of killing the Liyue Archon. (You still had your suspicions).

Nope, you were complacent, content with the simple jobs that helped you keep the lights on and splurge on the things that caught your eye. One of which was currently on your feet and digging into the skin uncomfortably. You hopped on one foot and shoved your finger inside the edge of the shoe in the hopes of stretching out the tight leather.

The top of the path crept over the horizon and you picked up the pace to reach it. You adored cresting the hill and seeing the harbor stretch across the bay, how the tall mountainside loomed above her - a watchful guardian, a shield and protector. You sighed and adjusted the pack on your back. The road into the harbor wasn't long, but it was steep, and you prepared yourself for a rough descent with your aching feet.

Every step slowed you down. Each one more uncomfortable than the last. You thought about taking off your shoes but didn't want to catch the disapproving glares that came from Liyue's citizens. So, you pushed forward.

A plume of green and black smoke enveloped you. You would have shouted but you were used to the sensation and how it obscured your view. Months ago you stumbled upon the smoke's owner in a field. He seemed injured so you went to check on him only to learn he was fine, and rather unappreciative of your concern - actually, he was irritatingly annoyed that you had distracted him from his lay-about.

"Hello, little Xia--woah!" Instead of appearing near you like he had before, you were suddenly floating in the green smoke. It whipped through your hair, tugged at your loose clothes, and bit at your skin. You felt like you were falling, and then you were - into the arms of the Adeptus who normally kept his respectful distance from you.

When your eyes adjusted to the return of light, you twisted to look at him, one arm draped over his shoulders as if he had placed it there.

"What are you-?" The words caught in your throat. Confusion, surprise, and bashful bewilderment tickled your cheeks and stole your ability to speak. Your face was inches from him. Closer than it ever had been before.

"You're injured," he spoke softly, matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting to your feet. You could already see the broken skin around your heel.

"It's nothing. Just my shoes," you explained as you stared at your own feet as if that explanation meant anything to him.

"Hold on," he said as he held you to him and the two of you disappeared into a puff of ethereal phthalo.

--

Xiao placed you on the small stool you had left out on the balcony the night before. He was careful to not let you crash into it. His strength - despite his size - was easy to sense as he eased you onto it and waited for you to settle.

"Thanks," you hummed, stealing a peek at his eyes. Eyes the shade of ginkgo trees in fall, eyes that held eons of history and centuries of sadness. Xiao didn't speak much, but his searching and timid eyes quenched your thirst for his voice.

He lifted your leg and you covered your mouth to avoid making a noise. Before you could ask him a question, he withdrew into his haze and was gone. You sat motionless for only a few seconds, and contemplated entering your house as you, in a daze, took off your shoes but when you rose to leave, Xiao reappeared holding a small container.

"For your injury. It's important to - take care of yourself," he mumbled the last part of his sentence as he held the container out to you. Averting eyes, open fingers unmoving, waiting for you to take it.

Your fingertips brushed his skin. "Did you get this for me?" He crossed his arms and didn't answer but his actions still made your chest warm and lips pull into a giddy smile.

"Don't dally," he scolded and threw you a sharp stare, "Or you'll be left with a scar."

"Oh right." You nodded and uncapped the container. The salve held a potent medicinal scent. "You don't have to stay," you added, a little sad at the thought of him leaving but recognizing that he didn't enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. His avoidance one of the many secrets locked in the amber of his soul.

"I'll wait."

You opened your mouth to protest but he turned his back to you, crossed his arms. Watched, observed. Protective.

"Thank you, Xiao," you whispered and chuckled at the grunt that floated toward you from the Adeptus statue standing near the corner of your balcony.

--

[animeredhead101]

Dad Phantom DP x DC Crossover

Completed

Bask in Our Cosmic Insignificance by DisillusionedDanny :

After Lady Gotham sends a lost and alone King Phantom to check on a little boy Danny Fenton finds himself the new guardian "angel" of a six year old boy. Tim Drake. Word Count: 33,632

The Devil Wore a T-Shirt by DisillusionedDanny :

After a one-night stand, Danny finds himself pregnant with Red Hood's kid. Now he finds himself as a dad to a small child with an important decision to make. Does he tell Red Hood he has a child? Or does Danny raise the kid by himself?

Word Count: 24,778

Who's Old Now? by LiraBuswavi :

“Am I your dad!!?” Billy shouted. Danny paused. Took a deep breath in and out before turning to him. “I’m gonna need you to back up, and explain. Please.” Or, what happens when a twelve year old masquerading as an adult superhero calls his guardian, an adult who can also turn into a child superhero, on speaker phone, in front of the Justice League. Word Count: 36,017

Of All the Things My Hands Have Held by DisillusionedDanny :

Upon learning that her son is in a relationship, Talia decides to create a clone to gift to her son as a gift to celebrate finally settling down. Now Damian and Danny are stuck trying to figure out how to raise a baby when neither of them had the best examples growing up.

Word Count: 17,066

Mourning a Young Soul Leads to Shared Custody by Olive_of_Vanders :

Danny was given a choice. Become King or parent a ghost kid. Ghost kid sounded a lot more easier to him. Word Count: 41,929

It's Not Sugar by ConspiracyCrows :

Ellie is destabilized and nearly killed by Vlad while trying to make another, "better", clone of Danny. In order to stabilize her she was de-aged to about 7, and now has chronic issues balancing her ecto the same way a type one diabetic has issues balancing blood sugars. In fact that's the cover story the pair use when Danny enrolls Ellie at Gotham Academy. The one favor he will allow Vlad to do for them. While Vlad seems to have finally come to his senses about Ellie, Danny won't let him anywhere near her ever again. Which is why they moved to Gotham in the first place, Vlad won't step foot there. It also helps that Lady Gotham is more than happy to have the Realms' Ambassador to the Living in her streets. They settle into Crime Alley, and Danny may or may not have forgotten to introduce himself to the Haunt owner, assuming Gotham would handle the niceties as he gets Ellie settled, and handles the pressing issues of the negotiations between the city, the realms, and those denizens of both who want or need one thing or other.

Word Count: 23,052

On-going

Deadly Assumptions and Their Consequences by Silver_star_06 :

The Justice league believes that Phantom is Captain Marvel‘s dad and tells the hero to summon him to help them with Darkseid. They weren’t expecting the cryptic eldridge being to start hanging around the watch tower. Danny couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the pre-teen that ended up as the current Captain Marvel. A scrappy black haired and blue eyed child vigilante, that only became one because of circumstance. Danny was going to help this child whether he wanted it or not. Word Count: 25,977

My Dad is Dead to Me by GhostInGotham :

John Constantine was fourteen when he set his house on fire. John Constantine was fourteen when he realized his father was still inside. Word Count: 19,573

Phantoms and Foes by Zylev :

Krypton was dying long before it exploded. After a lab accident at 14 gave Danny ice powers, he used them for good to try and stop crime as the first hero of Krypton. But when thousands of years of mining the core of Krypton finally caught up to the planet, General Zod evacuated Krypton to the Phantom Zone before it exploded. Little did Zod know he led the Kryptonians to a slaughter. Years later, Danny is the only Kryptonian left alive when Kal-El finds the Phantom Projector and brings him to Earth. Danny must now adjust to having new powers and life on a planet that is completely different than Krypton and the Phantom Zone. Word Count: 121,723

The Human Prince of Ghosts by AceFace98 :

Danny has been King for a few centuries now, but he's still half-ghost, immortal or not. So every now and again, Clockwork likes to kick him out of the Realms to go play human for a decade or two. It's usually pretty boring. This time, though, he meets a small child with a camera and a lot of pointed questions and immediately has Dad Instincts about it. Word Count: 65,300

Phantom's Progenies by Makuro767 :

progeny /ˈprɒdʒɪni/ noun plural noun: progenies a descendant or the descendants of a person, animal, or plant; offspring. A drabble collections of Danny Phantom as the father to several kids that are both his and clones of him from several different realities. Fluff with doses of trauma. ~ If you think you can write a full story from each drabble, be my guest. Word Count: 79,111 This is a HUGE multi-crossover fic FYI

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 24 (Epilogue)

Warnings- None.

Time had passed, and six months had gone by since that fateful day.

You found yourself casually walking down the cobblestone streets of Paris, the city's rich architectural beauty capturing your fascination.

A subtle smile graced your lips as you soaked in the sights and sounds of the city, a sense of peacefulness settling within you despite the memories of the past.

The street was teeming with life, filled with the sound of voices and laughter, a vibrant energy that seemed to fill the city. It was a stark contrast to the silence and solitude that had consumed you during those dark days.

People moved about their day, engaged in various activities, all adding to the lively atmosphere. Children giggled and played on the cobblestones, while vendors called out their wares, contributing to the symphony of sounds.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a profound sense of peace washed over you, and a newfound hope slowly began to take root in your heart.

The memories of the past were still there, lingering like shadows in the back of your mind, but the pain didn't feel as raw as it once did. It still hurt, but the anguish had lessened, and hope had started to weave its way back into your life.

During your aimless strolling, a charming café caught your eye, nestled away in a tranquil corner.

The cafe's welcoming ambiance drew you closer, the softly glowing lights illuminating the interior, as you hovered in uncertainty, reminding you of your own cafe, which was smoothly getting run by Peter, MJ, Happy and May.

For a moment, you debated on whether to indulge in a solitary cup of coffee, but the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed espresso proved to be too alluring to resist.

Settling into a quiet seat near the window, you placed your order, requesting a latte from the waiter. As you waited, a sense of contentment and tranquility washed over you.

With the cup in your hands, you took a slow sip of your latte, allowing the warm beverage to soothe your soul.

In the tranquility of the moment, your thoughts turned to the events that had occurred after that horrific day, the waves of grief, disbelief, and loneliness that had gripped you, leaving you drowning in despair.

As the truth unfolded, it came to light that Lloyd had meticulously pre-planned the bombing of the compound. The man Steve and Bucky had killed was there to strategically plant explosives in various locations around the building.

Amidst the turmoil and pain, you still remembered the steadfast support of both Nick and Ari. They had been there for you during your darkest moments, their comforting presence a beacon of hope amidst the storm.

And in that quiet café, as you took another sip of your latte, a profound realization washed over you. You had found a new family in them, a support system that would hold you up when you lacked the strength to carry on alone.

You had taken on the responsibility of managing Lloyd's business, a challenge you faced with determination and grit.

With the help of Nick, Jake, Ari, and Andy, you all worked together to keep the business running smoothly. They brought new ideas to the table, implemented new procedures, and helped you navigate the complexities of the things Lloyd use to do.

As fate would have it, with the help of Jake, you obtained the videos that Steve had recorded with Peggy without her knowledge.

With this evidence, Jake forwarded these recordings to Peggy's husband, Daniel, who subsequently initiated divorce proceedings against her.

The consequences were severe for Peggy; she lost her husband, her financial stability, and ultimately, her job. With her life in disarray, she was forced to relocate far away, as everything unraveled around her.

Together, you formed a team that worked towards achieving the shared goal, and over the months, you had grown to become like family, always having each other's backs.

Nick had always possessed a fierce protective nature, and following the incident, this trait intensified further. Whenever you were in public, he would stick close to your side, his proximity deterring any would-be troublemakers.

He vigilantly observed every man that dared to cast a glance in your direction, his intense gaze enough to make many look away. Nick found pride in the role of your protector, and it made him feel closer to Lloyd.

Time passed, and it became increasingly evident that Nick had taken the role of your steadfast protector. He remained a constant presence beside you, acting as a barrier between you and any men who would attempt to display interest in you or approach you.

You would sometimes tease him about it, saying he was your knight in shining armor, but deep down you appreciated his fierce defense.

Standing in front of the breathtaking Eiffel Tower, you were captivated by its beauty, when suddenly you felt a powerful pair of arms encircling your waist. A familiar voice whispered in your ear, “What's going through your mind, Sugar?”

Upon turning, a broad smile spread across your face as you laid eyes on the man who stood behind you, his sturdy arms firmly encircling your waist.

“You…” you said with a soft chuckle, feeling an overwhelming mixture of affection and nervousness. As you looked up at him, a flutter of butterflies took flight within your stomach.

In a tender and affectionate gesture, Lloyd leaned down towards you, his warm lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still, and all other thoughts and distractions faded away, leaving you nothing but the blissful sensation of his touch and the tenderness of the moment.

Against all odds, Lloyd miraculously survived the devastating blast, albeit severely wounded.

Thrown a decent distance by the sheer power of the explosion, he found himself in the debris, battered and bruised. Yet his resilience prevailed, fueled by his unwavering determination to fulfil the promise he had made to you.

Through sheer force of will, he propelled himself forward, struggling to make his way through the wreckage. As he spotted Nick, Ari, and you in the distance, preparing to leave, he realized it was crucial to make his presence known.

Ignoring the throbbing pain that coursed through him with each step, he gritted his teeth and pushed his legs to carry him towards you, every movement becoming increasingly challenging, as he tried to call you all.

Nick was the first to notice, his eyes widening in surprise and relief as he laid eyes on Lloyd. You and Ari soon followed suit, quickly returning to his side.

As Lloyd staggered towards you, his clothing tattered and drenched in blood, his face smudged with soot, you could notice the look of relief in his eyes as he finally collapsed into your arms.

Lloyd had been forced to undergo strict bed rest in the wake of the incident. Consequently, the responsibility of managing his business had fallen upon you, with the supportive assistance of Nick, Ari, Jake, and Andy. Despite their unwavering help, the task remained demanding, requiring significant time and effort on your part.

In typical Lloyd fashion, despite the doctors' best efforts, Lloyd adamantly refused to cooperate with them and resolutely refused to accept a designated nurse for his care. Consequently, you found yourself thrust into the role of his personal nurse, having to tend to his needs and ensure his recovery process went smoothly.

As the days dragged on, Lloyd's restlessness grew exponentially. Being confined to his room, with little freedom to move or engage in any productive activity, took its toll on his mind and spirit.

“I feel so damn useless,” he grumbled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above him.

“You're healing,” you replied calmly, positioning yourself beside him. “You need to rest. We've got everything covered, don't you worry.”

Lloyd let out a sigh, his irritation clear as he expressed his desire to be useful. “But I want to help,” he protested. “I hate just sitting here, not doing anything.”

With a wicked smile, you proposed a bargaining chip that you knew he couldn't resist, “If you behave, and rest, I'll go down on you…” you suggested, your tone sultry.

Yep, that was the only way to get Lloyd to rest.

Though it took a considerable amount of time, Lloyd eventually recovered from his injuries. To mark his healing, he was adamant about taking you on a trip to Paris.

“You desperately need a vacation, Sugar!” he declared adamantly, disregarding any protests you might have had. “And what better place to unwind than the ‘City of Love’ itself?”

So, here you are now, walking through the bustling streets of Paris, hand in hand. You both visited famous landmarks, indulged in delicious French pastries, and just enjoyed each other's company.

As you walked hand in hand, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, Lloyd smiled at you, grateful for this moment with you.

“I love you Sugar.” “I love you too, Lloyd.”

This trip to Paris marked the beginning of many more adventures for you and Lloyd. You and Lloyd traveled to different parts of the world, exploring new cultures and creating unforgettable memories together.

From the vibrant streets of Mumbai, to the breath-taking landscapes of Iceland, you experienced it all, together.

Each trip brought you closer, your love and bond growing stronger with each passing day. And even amidst the chaos of the world, you found solace in each other, a love that weathered any storm.

In the secluded countryside of Romania, on Barnes' private property, two men stood engaged in heated discussion, meticulously mapping out their next steps.

Steve and Bucky had miraculously survived the blast as well, though not without sustaining harm. While Steve had thankfully escaped with only minor injuries, Bucky had suffered a major loss- his left arm, shot by Nick's bullet.

Bucky's state of despair was palpable; he felt a profound sense of inadequacy and disappointment in himself, perceiving his injuries as a personal failure. His anger towards Nick simmered beneath the surface, yet he found himself unable to face him due to his condition.

The absence of his left arm wrought havoc in his life, thwarting his ability to execute even the most basic tasks, thereby intensifying his feeling of unworthiness.

Steve keenly observed the turbulent wrath and frustration seething within Bucky, striving to offer comfort. However, his efforts were met with deaf ears; Bucky's wrath flared, fixated on seeking retribution, with Nick as his desired target.

Bucky paced the room like a caged animal, his fingers tightly clenched into a fist. “I can't just let those bastards get away with it!” he hissed, the anger in his voice evident.

Steve's voice held firm and reassuring, responding confidently, “We will, Buck. I promise you.”

Bucky continued his restless pacing, his right hand clenching into a tight fist.

With vehemence in his voice, he asserted, “I can't simply let them get away with this! They must be held accountable for their transgressions!”

“We will make sure of it, Buck. You have my assurance,” Steve responded, his voice resolute and encouraging. “With Lloyd now deceased, their strength falters. We shall exact our vengeance.”

With Tony Stark's assistance, Bucky was equipped with an advanced, vibranium-based prosthetic arm, meticulously engineered to meet his unique requirements. The arm was remarkably lightweight and comfortable to wear, yet it possessed the strength to match his remaining natural arm. Armed with this formidable prosthetic, Bucky's combat abilities were elevated to unparalleled levels.

In collaboration with Steve, Bucky strategically devised an elaborate scheme, aimed at reclaiming you and exacting revenge upon Nick and Ari.

As a captivating tune filled the air through the radio, Bucky made a request, his voice tinged with excitement. “Turn up the volume, Steve.”

“Absolutely,” Steve readily obliged, adjusting the radio's volume knob, immersing them further in the music.

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Part 23- ✅

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha

[hunnylagoon]

The Killing Moon

PT1: Camp Spirit

Ellie Williams x Reader

Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.

Premise: You are a camp counsellor who comes back year after year to be at peace in the one place you love the most. Though there is something different in the air, could it be love or maybe an ancient evil you’ve mistakenly awakened?

Warnings: slight mentions of violence / mentions of monsters and cryptids / raunchy humour / spooky?

The Killing Moon Playlist

PART TWO: The Colour Wars

Week One of Summer Camp

Camp Honey Hills is what you could call 'off the radar'. It sat way up past the hills and forests of Oregon, relatively untouched by the urban nightmare of the city. It stayed peaceful and undisturbed as leaves shed from trees and snow covered every inch of ground, but the camp was alive for one season of the year. Even in the quietness of preparing for the campers to arrive you could still hear counsellors laughing with one another and that's how you could tell the camp was waking up from its ten-month slumber.

"Anyone in the White Tail Deer Cabin, over here!" I held my hand up and waved to the kids piling out of the buses, carrying duffle bags bigger than themselves. The first day of camp was always the most stressful, the only thing to get you through was the idea that it would be over soon and we could get to the fun part of summer.

I already had a handful of girls crowding around me, all of them were either ten or eleven; depending on how you look at it, I either got blessed or cursed that I was assigned to a cabin of older girls. While the younger ones were wild and untamable, the older ones tended to be snarky and standoffish, these girls we’re leaning toward wild.

"Hi," I look up from my clipboard to see a scrawny girl, she has long black hair in two French braids, a summer camp staple. "My thing says that Ellie is my counsellor and I don't know who that is."

"All good," I bend down to her height, "It's that pretty girl over there," I point at Ellie, she's talking to one of the girls in her cabin, and her dark eyebrows are furrowed at what I can only assume to be an absurd question. "You're in the Grizzly Cabin, looks like I'll be seeing a lot of you."

The girl doesn't answer me with words, from the way she's looking at me you'd think I just told her that I sat on her hamster. She gives me one last side glance before she struts off and lugs her duffle bag behind her. "That weird girl said I was in your cabin," I hear ever so faintly in the distance, Ellie bites back a laugh.

I shake off the not-so-subtle cruelty of a pre-teen and go back to yelling for all of the girls in my cabin. So far I had seven of the eight campers I was supposed to have, I was in the lead and if I collected all of the girls in my cabin first, that would be more points towards the camp cup. You should know that I take the camp cup very seriously, it really isn't anything more than a trophy that Tommy and Joel give to a cabin but I haven't lost it in the past five years that I've worked here. 

"Is your name Tamar?" I point at a stubby ginger girl, "You look like your name is Tamar," I was on the hunt for the eighth girl in my cabin so I could win the arrival day points. 

"Uh, no," She said, looking as muddled as scrambled eggs "My name is Marcy."

"Then get out of here, Marcy," I look past her and nod at a girl with skin the colour of ebony wood "Are you Tamar?" This girl looks around to double-check that I'm talking to her before she shakes her head no.

"Who's my counsellor then?" Marcy who stands at a maximum of what looks to be a mighty 4'3 is peering into my soul with her icy blue eyes and I almost shudder, all I could think is that someone needed to get this four-foot-nothing girl some contact lenses.

"Your counsellor and cabin should be on the slip of paper that administration gave you."

"I lost my paper."

"Um," I glance around at the other counsellors, collecting their campers. My eyes settle on Abby, she's wearing a Camp Honey Hills T-shirt. She looks like she's got everything more put together and organized than any other counsellor so I decided to dump this kid on her. "It's that blonde girl with the big muscles, you better hurry because she'll crush you if you aren't there in time."

Marcy looks at Abby and then back to me with wide eyes at my words before she scurries away. As I watch her roll up to Abby's group, I quickly realize that there is no way she is in that cabin. Abby got the oldest group, consisting of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds and I was sure that Marcy, with all of her missing teeth, was no older than nine. I avert my eyes to avoid any wrath.

I spot Jesse who is trying to wrangle up his boys who are already rough housing and throwing each other in the dirt. Somehow he always ends up with the returning campers or the savage ones who would surely put my head on a stick before taking a shower. 

"Is this the White Tail Deer Cabin?" A girl with pale skin and brown hair stares me down, she's tall for her age and lanky.

"Are you Tamar?"

"Yeah," She says it like she's annoyed.

"Perfect," I smile, turning to my group "Alright girls, that's everyone," I turn to look in Tommy's direction "I said that's everyone," I enunciate louder to be sure he can hear me, each of my campers gives one another a snide glance. 

Tommy presses his lips together in a thin line and answers me with a thumbs-up. He already knew I would be the first to get my group together, I always was. He and Joel are the camp directors, they were talking about something before I called their attention.

Marcy points at me and Abby looks in my direction, her eyebrows knit together. Great, now I was being snitched on my nine-year-old. Abby calls out my name but I'm already ushering my girls towards the cabins "Who wants to see the cabin?"

In just moments, I'm long gone and walking the trail to the girl's cabins. Breathing one last moment of peace, the earthy bitterness in the air, droplets of last night's rain slipping off leaves. It made me want to savour every moment in the forest I had before summer ended and I had to go back to stuffy dorms and lectures along with people as boring as the city itself. I've never been able to fathom why anyone would dream of the city, of the drug users and creepy men roaming the streets. Concrete everything and headaches from blue light, every day that I was away at college I dreamed of coming back here, I counted down the days I could turn my phone off and disappear from the world for a while.

The boys may have had a shorter walk to their bunkhouse but the girls definitely got the better view. It also didn't hurt that the circle of cabins was right beside the pasture so we woke up to watch horse grazing, unless you don't like horses, then you can just ignore them I guess.

"Okay, ladies," I open the door to our cabin, a little carving of a doe above the doorframe. "This is our cabin, go ahead and claim your bunks, I don't care who goes where, just don't fight about it and no one set up on my bed."

"How do we know which one is yours?" One of the girls, Leslie, asks. 

"Because it's the only one that's set up," I say, bluntly and I see the realization hit her like it was a math equation that finally clicked in her head "You guys can unpack and I'll go over the cabin constitution in a minute."

As my campers piled into the cabin, ravenously fighting over who got which bed, I saw Ellie walking up with her girls. Our cabins were right next to each other, we shared a little porch that Maria decorates with plants while Ellie and I neglect them until they're wilted and we try to save them so we don't get yelled at. Alternatively, dump the responsibility of nurturing plants on one of your campers, kids love to water stuff and feel important.

Ellie's campers begin to walk up the porch and into the cabin, one of her girls runs up to me "I wanna be in your cabin again," Lana pouts, I had her last year and I can't say that I have a least favourite camper but if I could, it would definitely be Lana. "Ellen is so mean."

"Well, maybe she would be nicer if you said her name right." I look up to see Ellie who mouths a 'Thank you'  "Call her Ellie and maybe you two can be nice to each other."

Lana looks between the two of us before wordlessly walking into the cabin in trail of the other girls. "It's shaping up to be an interesting summer."

"We've survived worse," I cross my arms "Do you remember Tucker? That kid Jesse had who managed to tie a piece of dental floss around a wasp and carry it around with him all day like a balloon."

"He was a little weird but he was chill," Ellie jokes, like every other counsellor, she's wearing the Honey Hills T-Shirt and Demin shorts, her auburn hair pulled back into a half up half down style "How about that girl in Dina's cabin who wrote Reid letters pretending to be Priya?"

I laugh "I can't believe it went on so long."

"I can, Reid's a fucking idiot." She says "He pronounces chutney like chut-uh-ney."

"Oh my god, I hate that so much," I was obviously dragging on this conversation, hunting for reasons to talk to her "And the way he says Ibiza and Cuba and like everything." 

"Do you remember when he joined the women supporting women club in high school?"

"Please don't remind me, that was awful," I chuckle "The worst part is that he ran that shit like the navy."

"Are you coming inside?" Chloe pokes her head out the door.

"I guess so," I answer "Uh, I'll see you at the campfire," I tell Ellie before stepping into my cabin and seeing pure chaos. The four bunkbeds that were pristinely set up just hours ago were now clad in each girl's personal bedding, ranging from Chloe's neat colour scheme of light blue and white to Kim's mismatched quilts, fuzzy pillows, and bright orange sleeping bag. They were still working on getting everything set up, specifically getting the fitted sheets onto the twin-sized waterproof mattress. Some of the girls were even beginning to tape up photos of their friends and family from back home. "Wow, looks great girls."

"Can we go to dinner yet?" Leslie asked, her twin braids hanging over her pink hoodie.

"No, it is three o'clock but we will go over the cabin constitution."  A couple of the girls let out groans of disapproval "First you always listen to me, do as I say not as I do. Respect others and their belongings, please don't hurt anyone or yourself. Maintain personal hygiene and do not go anywhere without telling someone where. Also, we have shower schedules, showers are absolutely mandatory, and no one will talk their way out of it. On Friday's we have tuck shop, and everyone gets a twenty dollar allowance for that, no you do not actually touch the money it's part of the camp package, I take your orders and come back with candy. We have campfires every night, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are mandatory to attend even if you don't eat which I strongly encourage you do."

"Do we have to go if we're sick?" Tamar asked me.

"No."

"But you just said it was mandatory."

"It's mandatory if you aren't sick."

"But you said-

"Stop," I clasp my hands together "I know I'm older than you guys but I promise you can tell me and ask me anything." I smile, looking around "Any other questions?"

"Can we swear?" Valentina asks, she's kicking her feet off her bed on the top bunk. Her skin is the colour of copper and she has a little dusting of freckles over her button nose.

"I don't really care just don't do it around other adults and don't tell them that I told you that."

"What's the wifi?" Morgan was typing something on her phone which was by far more expensive than the model I owned. Dina had Morgan in previous years and I wasn't too thrilled to be in charge of the (as she claimed) disrespectful blonde monster sent from hell to ruin her life.

"We don't have wifi, we hardly have service," I tell her "And you aren't even supposed to have your phone here but you can't do anything on it anyways so it doesn't matter."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Leah chimes in, she's sitting on the ground with Oliver and slowly but surely braiding her friend's hair.

"Not at the moment, no."

"So are you a lesbian?" Olive follows up for her friend.

"Um," I press my lips together, my mind failing me, "I think we're good on questions, who wants a camp tour?" No one says or does anything, they just kind of look around awkwardly "That's too bad, you're getting one."

Everyone gathered around the crackling fire pit on splintered wooden benches. The warm glow of the campfire flickered in the midst of a cool summer night, casting dancing shadows on the faces of worn-out campers who were ready for bed. 

Tommy had given his speech to sike up the kids for the rest of the summer, he made sleeping in the woods sound like a lot of fun. "We're giving you tonight to settle in but I promise that starting tomorrow we are hitting the ground running, activities from morning until dark, this will be a summer to remember," He smiles brightly "I don't wanna babble too long so I'm gonna give the attention to Miles who is going to kick off our campfire by playing the guitar for us."

Miles sat directly across from me in the first row of benches so I could only see him through the orange flames of the fire. "This is an original song I wrote, so far it's untitled but I'm open to ideas," He made himself comfortable with the guitar, readjusting it to sit in his lap properly. 

"What do you wanna bet it's about?" Ellie whispers into my ear from beside me. Since the day cooled into the night, she's thrown on a gray hoodie to keep herself warm. You would be an idiot to ignore how pretty she looks illuminated by nothing more than stray stars in the sky and a campfire.

"I'll put five bucks on sex,"

"Sex?" She raises her eyebrows "I don't think he's stupid enough to sing a song about sex in front of kids, I'm gonna say it's about being a tortured artist."

"It could easily be both," I look down and see Ellie's muddied converse "We break even if he does both." The fire roared before us like our own miniature hell.

Miles clears his throat and lets his curly blonde locks fall over his forehead. Beginning to strum, he made that weird face he makes every time he plays guitar, where he scrunched his eyebrows together "Baby, maybe, I just wanna do you, do you, do you wanna do me? do me underneath the moonlight," He's too lost in his song to see the horror on every counsellor's face "Baby, baby, maybe I will steal you, steal you, just so I can feel you, feel you, maybe that would heal you."

I cover my mouth with my hand to stop me from cackling. The older kids were on the verge of laughing themselves while the younger kids seemed utterly confused. "Holy shit," I mutter so quietly that my words got blown away with the wind.

Ellie didn't try to stop her laughter, just hide it, she buried her head into the crook of my neck so no one could see how red her face was. She was far better off than Dina who was laughing so hard that she was clutching her stomach and nearly falling over, Miles seemed to be oblivious to all of this. In Dina’s defence, it was difficult not to laugh at a song so wildly inappropriate and bad in general.

Miles had far from the best voice, he just sounded like every other white guy who sang Wonderwall at a girl, not to her but at her "Sticky thighs are you wild now or just a memory? I heard your broken cries and looked into your eyes under the moonlight, so do you wanna do me, do me, so I can heal you, heal you, from the inside-

He stops abruptly when Joel takes the guitar away from him "How about Sawyer tells us the camp legend instead."

Those who knew who Sawyer was looked towards him, Miles was trying helplessly to get his guitar back from Joel who was holding it just slightly out of reach. "It's been a while since I've told this so forgive me if-

"No one cares, just tell it," Ashlynn said. She was one of the counsellors who clearly didn't want to be there, which meant all of the campers thought her to be the coolest; in all fairness, she was cool. Ashlynn had bleach blonde shaggy hair, so light that it almost looked white. Her eyeliner was always a little smudged and she was only there to keep the kids alive, she tended to be the first to opt out of group activities and go to bed early.

"Okay well, it starts way back in the sixteen-hundreds, on these very grounds there was a small village," Sawyer put on his best storytelling voice which was just him lowering his voice an octave. "They lived in peace for decades, and throughout all of those decades there was a woman named Abigail who never seemed to age, while all of her friends and family developed wrinkles, their hair turned gray, and their bodies sagged, Abigail still looked nineteen even at her alleged age of sixty-seven." 

The new campers seemed enraptured but returning kids and counsellors seemed bored out of their minds, I even spotted one boy who's been attending this camp longer than I have, mouthing the words of Sawyers tale.

"They accused her of witchcraft and she was shortly exiled far up the hill into what we now call the Honey House. They left her with nothing more than a hunting knife, a canteen of water, the clothes on her back, and a small portion of seeds. The villages burned down her home in town along with everything inside it. If you think that is the end-

"Think again!" Dina cut in, getting up from her spot and squeezing herself beside Sawyer. "With Abigail gone the villagers thought they would be safe but just days after Abigail was exiled, anomalies began to appear-

Sawyer chimed back in "At first they were harmless, pixies, gnomes, jackalopes, nyiads by the rivers and dryads in the trees. The creatures appearing slowly began to appear more and more dangerous and at last, the snatchers arrived-

"Like a muscular and tall emaciated human. The most terrifying creatures to ever be seen, they roamed just outside of the village and lured children in, they slurped the flesh right off of the children's bodies like prey and wore the clothes of their last victim. They have no lips just a bloody gash and when they don't eat, the gash begins to reseal, leaving nothing on their gray faces but large and pale sunken eyes the size of my fist!" Dina clenched her hand into a fist and held it up for everyone to see.

"Their fingers are long and rotted, long curls of claws on each of their ten spindly fingers. The males are devoid of all hair and the females hardly have hair at all, just small plugs of greasy and matted strands. Their teeth are sharper than fangs and are rotten black and yellow, a foul odour escaping each time they open their disgusting gashes of a mouth. Though the snatchers were the most feared among villagers, they were also being terrorized by other creatures, such as pine devils who slithered from the forests at night and attacked families. There was ghouls who would take on the form of the last corpse they devoured and of course, the wampus which was half-man and half-cat, would stalk villagers.”

"Like a furry?" One of the boys from Jesse's cabin peeped.

"No," Sawyer exasperated "Like a scary and intimidating cat-man."

"So does it look more like the Cat in the Hat or like Cats the Musical?"

"It doesn't look like either, it's a terrifying man that is covered in fur and looks like a cat but is also a man."

"So Cats the Musical?"

Dina ignored the comment and continued with the story "After a year the village population had been cut in half and everyone thought it to be the witch, they figured that Abigail had cursed them for exiling her so they lit up their torches at sunset and marched up the hill to the Honey House. Abigail pleaded with them and explained that she hadn't cursed them but during her residency in the village she had warded off each evil spirit and creature with her witchcraft but she no longer could protect the village after they burned her home down and all her supplies inside of it."

After muttering to Jesse to get his cabin in order, Sawyer picked up when Dina left off "The villagers begged for her forgiveness and apologised for their cruel acts in the hope that Abigail would rid them of the monsters, Abigail said she would but in return they grant her return to the village, so the townfolk agree-

"With all her supplies to ward off the creatures gone, Abigail resorts to a blood ritual. She tells the townfolk that they must complete the ritual before sundown. She creates five pentagrams made of sticks and twine. Abigail races around the village to place the pentagrams and avoid the creatures while she does so, the villagers ward the monsters away from her with their torches. At each pentagram, Abigail slices her palm open and squeezes her fist to drip blood onto each one, then she ignites the pentagram with a torch and utters an incantation. She slashes her thighs and calves to get enough blood and in a last-ditch effort, she cuts her wrists open to finalize the ritual," Only the younger kids had been paying any attention to the story, they seemed downright terrified, clinging to one another but trying to play it cool.

"I fail to see how this is any less inappropriate than Miles's song," Cat mutters with one girl huddled into her, her arm slung over the little girl and rubbing her back to soothe her.

"Once she had completed the ritual, Abigail said that no creatures should return to the village. She is bleeding out in the middle of the town square but the town doctor only watches her, and refuses to help so she begs the appointed mayor to bury her beside her mother, he answers by saying 'The graveyard is sacred and we will not let it be tainted by filthy witch blood' in her final breath she plunged for the mayor and drags her bloody palms down his face, cursing him. Once she is no longer breathing her body begins to rapidly age into the appearance of the sixty-eight-year-old woman she was supposed to be. The townsfolk cut Abigail's body into five parts, two legs, two arms, and the torso with the head still attached and buried her on the border of the village."

Everyone sat in silence "Is that the end?" someone asked, though they were in the back row of benches and I couldn't see who it was.

"Yup," I answer "Abigail gets renamed as 'the girl that time forgot' in folklore and she never gets revenge on the townsfolk for betraying her after she laid down her life for them." I had never liked the legend. Young boys thought it was cool and gory and fifteen-year-old girls thought it was poetic and tragic but I hated it to death. Other camps have fun light-hearted legends about playful forest spirits or secret villages of fairies deep in the woods but we got an edgy story about a woman who just wanted to be loved.

"I wish she let the snatchers eat them all," Ellie said the same thing that she says every year, she wasn't wrong, that's how I wished it ended too. 

"Just wait until one eats you," I joke.

"Nah, I'd kick it's ass."

"I'm sure you would but right now you owe be five bucks.”

"No, we didn't pick this legend, it's true," I heard Jesse's voice cutting through the conversations of the crowd.

"Bullshit," Mordecai said, he was one of those kids who thought it was cool and edgy to be an asshole and act older than he was. He despised summer camp but every summer his parents forced him back much to our dismay.

"It's not," Bowie jumped in "The snatchers come back to visit us sometimes." 

"Yeah? I thought Abigail banished them with blood magic."

"The spell is growing weaker with time, it's slowly wearing out and there hasn't been a witch to revive it," Jesse was a good storyteller, he should've been the one to deliver the camp legend. He found a way to enrapture people with his words.

That's when I decided to call it a night for my girls, the longer you stayed at the campfire, the more outlandish stories the guys would tell and I learned my lesson last year that it is very easy to give ten-year-olds nightmares. "Whitetail deer, we're heading out," I stand up.

A few of the girls had groans and complaints while others seemed happy to leave. Ellie looked up at me from where I stood and did the same "Grizzlies, we're leaving too,"

"You're just saying that because you wanna hit it, Williams," Dean said between obviously fake coughs into his fist, causing Ashlynn to bite back a smile and Miles to playfully punch him on the arm. 

"Dean," Tommy gave him a stern look and said nothing else, Dean took the hint and ceased his laughter.

"Headcount," I say looking at the girls in front of me "Chloe, Leslie, Kim, Leah, Tamar, Morgan, Valentina, and Olive." Each of them stands in a close-huddled bundle "Alright, don't go off trail."

The walk back from the campfire was gorgeous during the day and borderline mortifying at night. Since the foliage was so thick you could hardly see the sky if you looked up and at night the little piece of clearing that was the trail was pitch black, we were guided by nothing more than mine and Ellie's flashlights.

The two of us had been trailing behind the girls in silence to keep an eye on everyone until Ellie felt the urge to speak up "Uh, by the way, that thing that Dean said about-

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Yeah he's a dick and his cabin looks like a wooden prison cell." 

"It does," She furrows her eyebrows in thought "It’s like he's conditioning his campers for war."

I didn't notice when I did this, it must've been a subconscious thing but I mindlessly reached for Ellie's hand to hold. I used my free hand to keep the flashlight focused on the trail and campers ahead of us. "Sawyer has to walk back to the bunkhouses across the camp with those little monsters."

"Payback for all of the pranks he's pulled with Bowie," Ellie mutters. Sawyer took pride in initiating the prank wars every single summer the same way I strove to win the camp cup. His pranks weren't also lighthearted and fun, he and Bowie organized this prank where Sawyer put a bag over Tyson's head and dragged him to the administration office in the middle of the night and then pretended to shoot Bowie dead in front of him. Tyson quit the next morning and Sawyer got a hefty write-up.

"So are you still talking to Cat?" I ask.

"Nah, that was never gonna work out."

"Because she's too hot for you?” I joke.

"What? No," She whipped her head to look at me "Why? You wanna get with her or something, you have my blessing."

"I'm good, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

"Who with?" Her voice dripped with accusation. Ellie's hand clenching just the slightest bit tighter on mine.

"Work? You should know that I don't date at camp, to think that I thought you knew me," I tease her.

"What about that summer with Chandler?"

"That doesn't count," My smile drops and I fight the urge to shiver at the memories. Before I was a counsellor at Honey Hills, I was a camper and I happened to have my first kiss at age thirteen with a boy named Chandler, our braces got stuck together.

"Everyone saw, so it counts," I can't quite make out Ellie's face in the dark but I can hear the smile in her voice "Remember how Joel had to pull out the pliers."

"You need to stop before I sacrifice you to the Honey Hills Snatchers," I look ahead on the trail and I could've sworn my heart stopped "Stop!" I yell and all of the girls look back at me, I drop Ellie's hand "Where is Olive?"

All of the campers look at each other for answers, and then Leah opens her mouth "She saw a rock that was shaped like a heart and when off trail to get it."

"Well I'm not seeing a heart-shaped rock or Olive but it's super safe in these woods so no need to panic." 

"No one's panicking," One of the girls in Ellie's cabin says, she was the same one who called me weird during arrival.

I run one hand down my face in exasperation, using the other to keep the flashlight trained on the girls "Everyone, stay here with Ellie, I'm going to be right back," I look at Leah "How far back did she go off trail?"

She shrugs "How am I supposed to know? I don't have a tape measure."

"Sweet," I answer before marching straight into the pitch-black woods. It was almost scarier to be in the dark with a flashlight instead of no light source, it felt like I had been in a video game or horror movie and I was about to get my throat slashed by a maniac in a mask. 

Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs made me feel uneasy. I knew the woods were safe like I had told the girls but that didn't stop irrational fear from bringing up stories of cryptids and cuts from murder podcasts. If you ever played that shitty Slenderman game, you'd know exactly what I'm looking at; not Slenderman himself, just an eery forest.

I called out for Olive, my imagination running wild with thoughts of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows. The forest seemed to come alive around me, its inhabitants whispering secrets that only the night could hear.

"Olive?" My voice echoes into the night, I did what I could to ignore whatever fear I was feeling. I had walked through these woods a million times, I knew every pathway better than I knew the city. This forest was like home to me, it didn't feel right to be so on edge.

I couldn't help but jump when something loud snapped beneath my sneaker, instinctively I brought my flashlight down to look at it, moving my foot out of the way. It had been a pentagram made out of sticks, wow really funny, it might've scared me if Ashlynn and Bowie hadn't made dozens of them and laid them around camp last summer to scare the shit out of kids. It had broken in half beneath my weight.

There was a possibility that I was going crazy in the five minutes I was alone in the woods because I thought I heard a rustle but the beam of my flashlight revealed nothing but the dense thicket of trees and the inky blackness beyond.

Something charged behind me, wrapping its skinny arms around my torse and I couldn't help but flinch. "Olive," I turned my head and brought the flashlight to shine down on her "Don't run off in the dark ever again, you scared the shit out of me."

"I'm really sorry, I won't do it again," She said. I tried to pry her off me but she was hanging on like a Koala, eventually, I got her to settle for just holding my hand. "It was stupid."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, you're ginger and that's punishment enough," I was hastily yanking her along so we could get back on the trail and shortly back into the comfort of the cabin "Did you get your rock at least?"

"Yeah," She held her palm out, the rock was an oval with the littlest indent in the middle, but I let her act like it was shaped like a heart. 

"How'd you get so far out?"

"I grabbed the rock and then I saw a cat and I followed it."

Cat? "You must've seen Buckley, he's friendly," I tell her. Buckley was the resident dog at camp, he was probably older than me and wandered around before settling at Tommy and Maria's cabin for the night.

A moment after I dragged the little girl along we broke past the tree line and into the clearing of the trail. I looked around and spotted Ellie and the girls a good 40 yards or so behind. Clutching Olive's tiny hand in mine I walked towards them, flicking my flashlight on and off to catch their attention.

"Finally wrangled her," I let out an almost nervous laugh.

"You said not to go off trail," Tamar wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, Tamar, I know."

I don't know how late into the night it was when I was awoken by every girl in my cabin squabbling with one another. I got up and turned on the flashlight that I kept on my dingy bedside table "What's going on girls?"

"The snatcher is coming to get us!" Leslie cried, and I mean cried. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes were so glassy that they reflected any and all light, hot tears streaming down her round face.

That's when my annoyance turned to concern. Oh god, I was going to kick Sawyer and Dina's asses tomorrow morning and Joel for even suggesting the camp legend even though it made my campers too afraid to sleep year after year. "No, snatchers aren't real, they were made up in the sixteen hundreds to keep kids away from the forest."

"We heard it!" Morgan chimed in.

"Guys it's just the placebo effect, you've convinced yourself that it's real-

I froze when I heard a long scratch down the door and a wet guttural growl. It was low and deep, shaking me to my very core. Whoever was on the other side began to scratch harshly on the door, jiggling the locked door handle. When the handle didn't budge it began to slam itself on the door, each thump louder than the last. It was still groaning and grumbling in a harsh, awful voice.

The girls screamed, Olive and Leah, were hugging each other tightly, clenching their eyes shut. Valentina had a bottom bunk and slipped beneath the bed, covering her eyes with her hands. Leslie (like I had mentioned) was a blubbering mess, crying and hyperventilating too hard to get any words out. It looked like Morgan was trying to call someone on her phone and Tamar had her knees tucked to her chest, hugging herself. Both Kim and Chloe threw their blankets over top of them, pretending to disappear.

The voice sounded again except this time I realized it wasn't just a growl, it was a word "Girrrrllllls." Then it began to scratch the door all over again. When I tell you this voice was the most unsettling thing I've ever heard, I mean it. It was wet and phlegmy whilst being course and grumbly. From the very beginning, I had known it was a prank.

I marched towards the door flicking on the light in the cabin on and dropping my flashlight, before hammering my fists on the door "Fuck off!" I kicked the door, the sound stopped for just a moment before it slammed itself against the door.

Each thud against the sturdy wooden door reverberated through the night like a thunderclap. Whoever was sent to scare us was sure doing a good job. Their breathing was low and heavy almost as loud as the banging of the door itself. "Don't open the door," Leslie heaved out between sobs.

The girls huddled together in terror, their breaths hitching in fear as they strained to discern the source of the horrifying sounds "Girrllllllssss," It grumbled again "GIRRRLLSSSSCOMMOUT," I could see the door moving with the force of whoever was deeply committed to this role. The growling slowly morphed into a screech or maybe it was something more like a hiss.

I was almost at my breaking point, the first day of camp and I already had to deal with these bullshit pranks. I decided to slam my body against the door, matching whoever was on the other side "Go back to your cabin, you piece of shit!" I kept banging my fist and slamming my palms against the door until I heard them scuttle away. 

Reaching for a baseball out of Valentina's open duffle bag, I swung the door open and saw the slender figure of what I assumed to be a teenage boy running to the pasture "Tell Sawyer to eat shit!" I yelled before throwing the ball at the figure, it hit them but it didn't do much, they just stumbled for a split second before disappearing into darkness. 

"What the fuck is that noise?" Dina shouted from her cabin, I could tell I had woken her up from a nice sleep from the way her puffy eyes were squinting in my direction. A few girls poked their heads outside from the doorframe behind Dina.

"What happened?" Now Priya was walking towards my porch. Her long black hair was braided perfectly and she had her silk sleepmask pulled onto her forehead. She still looked put together in a hoodie and bunny pyjama pants.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up?" Ellie opened her door and looked me up and down.

"Be quiet!" Abby shouted from an open window in her cabin. By this point, I was sure everyone in the girl's bunk houses was wide awake and I would be getting a stern talking to by either, Tommy, Joel, or Maria, honestly, I didn't know which was worse. 

Confusion quickly grew on Ellie's face, she lowered her voice "What's going on?"

All eyes were on me for answers but I didn't have any. Despite convincing myself it was a prank, that didn't stop my hands from shaking. "It was one of the boys playing a prank, don't worry about it, he's long gone by now."

"Fucking Sawyer," Dina murmured walking back into her cabin and slamming the door behind her. 

"Are you girls okay in there?" Priya asked, looking at the mortified girls in my cabin, concern etched across her bronze face. "It was a dumb joke, you're all okay now." 

Priya had invited herself into my cabin to offer her solace to the probably traumatized little girls, while she was doing so, I pressed myself flat against the front of the cabin, between mine and Ellie's doors, trying to process how I was going to find a way to make these girls unafraid.

"They do that prank every year and it's almost crazy how it's literally never been funny," I tell Ellie while I stare straight ahead at the pasture they faded away into.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Ellie stands next to me, leaning against the wall "We'll get them back tenfold."

"Those girls are all gonna wanna call their parents and I'm so fucked," I drag my hands down my face. I didn't want to see the look on Joel's face when I tell him about this. There's gonna be sixteen parents who will spam call the camp and verbally harass me over the phone, this wasn't my first rodeo. Sure the prank was shitty but I guarantee no one is leaving this summer with newfound trauma to tell their therapist in a decade. 

"Relax, he's just gonna chew out the boys for pulling this shit again."

I looked at her for a moment, the silence hung between us like birds on a wire before I lunged in for a hug. She was a little taken aback but didn't seem to mind "I just need a hug, don't make it weird."

"Okay, wasn't planning on it," She teased. I took a deep breath in and caught the scent of firewood, petrichor, and axe body spray, an Ellie classic.

“I'm really glad I have you as a friend," I mutter into her shoulder, so quietly that I wasn't even sure she heard me. I let us stay like that for longer than I probably should've before breaking away "Okay, I gotta be a grown-up and deal with this instead of letting Priya do recon."

She nodded pressing her lips together in the same awkward way the socially inept guys from high school did "See you for breakfast?"

"For sure," I smile and walk back into my cabin to see Priya sitting next to Chloe with one soothing hand rubbing her back. "Thanks, Priya, I'll take it from here, you outta get back to your girls."

Priya had this maternal way about her, I wasn't sure what it was but she sure had the ability to nurture. She started at camp last year and I was happy to see her return. She gave her farewells to all of the girls who had only met her minutes ago and were already attached.

"Can I be in her cabin?" Kim asked, she had finally calmed down.

"No, you're in my cabin where we have fun like this every night!" I forced a smile on my face trying to get the girls back into a good mood.

"This isn't fun at all," Tamar, said, bluntly may I add.

"Yeah, this sucks," Morgan added on.

"Guys, listen," I began "I'm super sorry this happened, I need all of you to know that it's just a really bad prank, it happens every year to different cabins. Boy being boys- sorry I shouldn't say that because you guys are young and I know their gender shouldn't excuse their bad behaviour but what I'm trying to say is guys are assholes."

"Yeah, they're assholes!" Olive repeated.

"Maybe don't shout that," I pointed at her "But they are and if you want I will storm down to their cabins right now and yell at them until they cry."

The cabin began to erupt in shouts of no, little girls with wide eyes, frantically shaking their heads. "Please don't leave us alone," Leah pleaded. 

"Okay, I won't, I'll yell at them in the morning. Do you guys want me to leave the lights on?" Everyone answered with a 'yes' to my question.

"Where are you going?" Valentina asked me, peeking out from beneath her thick layers of blankets.

"To my bed?”

"That's too far away from us."

I let out a deep breath "Alright, I'll just bring my sleeping bag onto the floor and I will sleep in the middle, okay?"  Nothing better than sleeping on the hardwood floor in the middle of four bunkbeds and eight ten-year-old girls.

Surrounded by the shallow breathing of girls far too startled to sleep, I decided that tomorrow I would wake up dressed in adventure, straddling a star. Every day that follows I will guide these girls to the moon and back.

A/N: Hi y’all, I’ve been gone a hot minute because of medical issues and whenever I have time to write, I’m too tired to. Anyways, we’re back and better. I know I should probably finish my other series but I’ve had this one drafted for a while and since I’m super sick and basically confined to my house for the next week I’m hoping to get this series done. Thanks for reading!

@readbydayana

[builtbybrokenbells]

LEX TALIONIS | ORSUS

orsus — a beginning, commencement, an undertaking, attempt

Masterlist | Taglist

listen while reading: it will come back - hozier

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Josh Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 24k (😘)

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, hookups, one night stands, fingering (f!receiving) oral (f!receiving), impact play, cum play, sir kink, dom/sub, bratty sub, praise, degradation, name calling, touch of spit play, lots and lots of dirty talk, mentions of free use kink, choking, biting, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, the briefest mention of oral (m!receiving), manipulation/manipulative phrases, gaslighting, toxic themes, an unbearable amount of flirting, talking bad about men, superiority complexes, mentions of toxic/bad past relationships/bad experiences with men, a conniving evil reader, mentions of cheating/infidelity/home wrecking, mentions of addictions/substance abuse, mentions of death/dying, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

Here it is, I hope you enjoy my loves 🤍 (lightly edited)

According to Wikipedia, brotherhood is an ethical relationship between people, which is based on love and solidarity. According to the Oxford Dictionary, it is the feeling of kinship with and closeness to a group or all people. To the core, brotherhood is family, whether blood or not. A brother is someone you would give your life for at the drop of a dime, someone who you would protect with your life and avenge with a fervor. You can be siblings, cut from the same cloth and raised side by side, yet never once feel such things. You can meet a person on the sidewalk amidst the city chaos and feel for them in a moment, what you could not feel for someone else in a lifetime. Brotherhood is not a right, but a privilege, and one so sacred that not many are truly deserving of the title.

For Joshua and Jacob, brotherhood began in the womb, and carried on well into their adult lives. In this particular instance, deserving was not nearly a good enough descriptor for the men in question.

Two souls destined to be infinitely intertwined and lucky enough to be born as twins. For the pair, loyalty was without question and love was always abundant. Since their first minute on earth, they knew that the world would always seem less cruel when there was someone to depend on walking beside you every step of the way. In their younger years, they were akin in so many ways that it was hard to comprehend by times, and as the years passed, it only further proved the two were identical in more ways than just physical. Morals, attitudes and interests were shared, as well as dreams and desires. Even in their differences, they were determined to support each others dreams as if it were their very own aspirations.

The love the two had for each other was hard to comprehend, especially if you had never felt something so strongly before, and sometimes, it was easy to feel jealousy at the sight of the two together. It appeared as though they were the only two people in the world, and the only person the other cared about. Although their bond was strong, they had room in their hearts for more than just each other. Despite their differences, and the fact that they understood each other best, they both loved fiercely and deeply, and that love extended far beyond themselves. They loved their siblings, their parents, and their friends. They loved the bugs burrowing in the soil in the front yard, and the birds that flew overhead. They loved the trees and the rivers, the flowers and even the pesky weeds that grew at an unprecedented rate.

Love, by times, seemed like the only thing the two boys knew how to do. As they grew, so did their hearts, and that was one thing that never seemed to flee them.

When they lost their childlike nature, turning into awkward pre-teens with gangly limbs and cracking voices, the differences began to emerge. Jake, who loved to pick away at his father’s old guitar, seemed to take the side of reservation. He watched often, yet only spoke sometimes (unless of course, he cornered you with a topic that he had a staggering amount of passion for). He fell in love with the six stringed instrument, and all of the girls in his grade in high school. He was shy, but he was always lending an ear to anyone in need. Often quick with a joke and developing an awful habit for flirting, he seemed to make everyone fall in love with him without ever needing to try. His mystery aided his charm, and cemented his memory in people's minds.

Josh, who did not care who you were or where you came from, would talk your ear off about anything and everything that came to mind. His smile was always bright, and his heart was written on his sleeve. He took to the theater, and sang along to whatever song Jake had learned to play that week. He was a socialite who loved company, and seemed to bring out the extrovert in Jake when the two spent enough time in close proximity. He too, made people fall in love but for much different reasons than his brother. He was kind, generous, and extravagant. People fell because it was hard to keep your eyes off of him.

The sun and the moon respectively, making the whole world fall to their feet without ever realizing it.

As they grew into young adults, their personalities seemed to stick, only ever growing more intense as the days went on. Although the two seemed to have grown into different people, if you cared to look close enough, the similarities were not hard to find. In their faces, of course, it was not hard to tell that they were twin brothers, but it was more than that. In the warm brown of their irises, when they looked at you for too long, the same feeling would wash over you; like comfort on a cold day, or sleep to the exhausted. Their charm, unruly yet soft and subtle, would sneak up on you and sink its claws deep into your skin before you would even notice. In their touch, the same searing sensation and intoxicating feeling. The two were more alike than what showed on the surface, and you could easily find it if you had enough dedication to discovery.

More than anything else, their bond steadily grew stronger as they grew older. Brotherhood to them was not a title, nor was it a given. It was a lifestyle, and something they chose to do every minute of every day. Caring, loving, and understanding each other was of great importance to them, and it certainly was not easy work. They could have succumbed to sibling rivalry, quarrels that carried over into adulthood and bred resentment, but it was not something that they wanted for themselves. Their relationship was of utmost importance, and they made sure that anyone who stepped foot into their lives understood the requirement of loving both of them just the same.

They would always be each other’s biggest supporters, cheering them on in every aspect of life. They would be best friends, there to share every moment of happiness and suffer through every failure. They would be the ones to dish out the hard truths, and the harshest advice when needed. They were anchors, keeping each other grounded when life began to spin out of control. It was important for them to maintain the strength of their relationship, especially when living such a crazy and difficult lifestyle. Traveling the world and playing music was a dream come true, but it was even more so to them because they could share it with the people they cared about most, but it was strenuous and tiresome. It was easy to get buried under the stress and neglect their own health and wellbeing. It was easy for relationships to fail and for people to forget about them while they were gone for months at a time, which was exactly why family was so important to them. Without each other, they would crack and crumble under the pressure of the world.

A love like such only comes once in a lifetime, and the two felt incredibly lucky to be able to have it from the moment that they were born, until the very last breath. Even after death, they knew that their love would carry on, and they would search for each other in every lifetime to come. A bond so strong was not something to take for granted, and not something that you would ever want to let go of.

On the other hand, there are some people in the world who simply can not comprehend what it’s like to feel such a bond, nor can they comprehend how to care for someone more, or even equally to how they feel about themselves. You can call it narcissistic, but in some cases, it’s rarely ever that intense. It boils down to the fact of routine, and in some instances, people spend years without ever meeting anyone who could make them feel so strongly. Decades spent on their lonesome, having to stand up for themselves and watch over their own shoulder with nobody else to help carry the burden. Countless days of loneliness, constantly attempting to find new ways to cope and distract. Never anyone to share the success with, and no shoulder to cry on when times get tough. After a while, the idea of letting someone else experience such things alongside you becomes more of a fear than it is a comfort.

These people, as we have all have met, are known best as sharks or snakes; always awaiting the chance to steal an opportunity for themselves, and forever willing to throw someone else under the bus to achieve it. They are crude, unapologetic, and arrogant creatures who are often perceived as the enemy. In most instances, they are, and it is important to know that although sad, the reasoning behind their actions does not excuse their behavior. They are usually aware of their own actions, and most of the time, have little care for the people they hurt in the process. After all, how can you care about another when you’ve spent an entire lifetime only ever concerned about yourself?

You, a lovely woman on the surface, yet a nightmare just below, was a prime example of such evil.

You had spent an entire lifetime trying to find someone who made your heart beat faster. You longed to find someone who could turn your world upside down, or even someone who would promise to stick by your side during the hardest of times. Quickly, you understood that most people were willing to promise, but never follow through. In your younger years, you had your heart broken and your earth shattered by men and female friends who did not truly care about you as a person. For some time, you continued on the search despite the aching of your own chest, dedicated to knowing someone completely and wholly. After a while, you began to realize that the likelihood of finding such a person was near zero.

So, once you moved to a new city and started over, you decided that life could only begin again if every part of you was reinvented. At first, it was difficult to train your brain to think differently than it always had, but in truth, it did not take too long before you had learned the art of simply not caring. You realized that your heart had been your downfall the whole time; the relentless pining, the constant searching, and the endless begging for someone to love you. Other people had never been your issue, because you should have known better than to put your trust in anyone other than yourself. By closing yourself off and leaving dependency behind, you had managed to find happiness after all, and it did not come in the form of a man with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and sweet nothings stuck in his teeth.

Instead of being the victim of heartbreak, you had turned yourself into a heartbreaker. It was a cruel world that was only survivable if you were crueler, so you did what you had to do. The first few times were trial and error; you took people on dates and brought them back to your apartment for nothing further than mediocre sex. In the morning, you pushed them out the door with a smile, and answered a few texts here and there until you found the courage to cut them off. Every so often, you caved and fell back into your old habits, feeling guilty for being so harsh. You’d let them come back for another night of unfulfillment and only then would you find the courage to hit the block button.

Eventually, it became easier, and much more fun. You learned to seek out the men who you knew would be good in bed, rather than the ones who claimed to be good in bed. The quiet ones, talking sweetly and sometimes even nervously seemed to be the ones with the most breathtaking performances. You were nicer than you wanted to be, but after a while, even that seemed to flee you, too. You became witty, smart-mouthed and bold, testing your limits with every interaction. Your sharp tongue and your fiery eyes made people fall to your feet, and you began to understand that playing nice had never got you what you wanted. Now, sex was the only thing that caught your attention, and good sex was the only thing that could keep your attention. Rarely did you ever find yourself looking for a second date or a lasting relationship, and the longer you continued on your warpath, the more you felt like you were losing your humanity.

Men at bars appeared less as people, and more like conquests. It quickly turned into a game for you, and remorse was an emotion you no longer knew how to feel. Occasionally, you would make bets with your only acquaintances you’d made since moving to the city, just to see how fast you could get someone in your bed (or better, the bathroom). It was fun for you, but every man you left behind seemed dazed and confused, wondering if the moment was real or only a figment of their imagination. They only had a first name, never a last and definitely no phone number to call. You cashed out your earnings on cheap tequila shots and moved on to the next bar before they could catch up to you.

To some, it was a sad lifestyle to live, yet you never seemed to see the issue. You were so angry and bitter about the poor treatment you had received in the past that it blinded you enough to ignore the damage you caused. Then again, it was uncertain that if you did know how much turmoil you had caused, if you would even feel bad about it at all. You’d taken a liking to your newest personality, one in which you always got what you want and did not back down until you had it, and one in which your needs were always met first. After twenty some odd years of being on the receiving end of pain, you didn’t mind dishing it out every now and again.

After all, not every person who fell victim to your charm was upset with the lack of a second date. Most were quite content with a simple hookup, and you were certain that plenty were even in search of that alone. The ones that did get their feelings hurt were most likely over it in the morning, and the girlfriends of your conquests should have realized how terrible their boyfriends were long before you were ever involved in the equation. Not your man, not your problem, as you liked to believe.

Whatever could be used as an excuse for your abhorrent actions was made into one of your many personal mantras.

And so it was a Saturday night, the summer heat sweltering outside the Nashville bar and pooling inside every time the door was opened. The music was loud, the bass pounding in your ear drums and rattling your bones. The spot was busy, but no more than it usually was, and you were lined up at the counter with your aforementioned acquaintances while you waited to be served. Although, acquaintance was a strong term for the people you regularly spent time with, as they were no more than strangers who you drank with at the bar every now and again. The only reason you could stand to be around each other was because you adorned the same poisonous outlook, and your feelings could not be hurt when you were already prepared for the worst.

“Look, there’s one for you, Olivia.” You pointed across the room to a tall man hovering by the dance floor. He had a beer gripped tightly in his hand as he overlooked the crowd, hoping to find a potential suitor.

“Why don’t you want him?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked in the direction you were pointing to.

“We just got here. I have to keep my options open, and he’s not my type.” You chuckled, neglecting any form of eye contact with her. You played the same trick on her every time you went out, and she hadn’t seemed to catch on to it yet. Her fragile ego made it easy to convince her to take the average looking ones so you could save the best for yourself. “Besides, he’s your type, isn’t he? Tall, blonde…” you trailed off, refusing to mention his mediocre looks and his apparent lack of brains.

“Yeah, I guess he is.” She nodded, flashing you a smile. “Thanks!”

There were two types of women who loved the lifestyle you had chosen for yourself; those who had too much self confidence, and those who had been stripped of it and were in desperate search of it.

“Anytime.” You forced a smile, trying to keep up the facade that it was out of the kindness of your heart. You turned back towards the bartender, staring him down in hopes he would reach you faster. He was busy serving a plethora of drinks to a group of young girls who you doubted were of legal drinking age. When he finished up, he caught your eye and you gave him a smile, doing everything you could to convince him to serve you next. Luckily, it seemed to draw him in, and within seconds he was walking your way.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” He asked, his southern accent hanging thick in the air as he took his time looking you up and down. He was young, but still seemed a bit older than you. He had a cute smile, and a seemingly muscular build. Attractive, but definitely not what you were in search of. You leaned forward over the bar top slightly, ensuring he could get a good look down the front of your low cut dress, hoping the sight would persuade him to give you the first drink on the house.

It didn’t work all of the time, but definitely enough for you to try your luck.

“Double vodka cranberry, please.” You gave a soft smile, batting your eyelashes a time or two to add some extra sweetness. “And a shot of tequila, too.” He took a long look over your face, taking in the sultry stare and the subtle gloss on your lips. The small upturn of the corners of your mouth led him to believe that you were up to no good, but the mischief sparkling in your eyes intrigued him beyond belief. Paired with the soft skin exposed on your neck and chest, illuminated even under the dim bar light, he was enamoured enough to trip over himself to please you.

“Anything else?” He asked, looking up to meet your eyes.

“No, I think that’s fine for now.” You assured him. Without any further comment, he turned towards the wall of alcohol to grab the bottle of vodka. You drummed your fingers against the tabletop as you watched him mix your drink, biting back a smirk as you watched him overpour the shots ever so slightly. When he turned around, you pretended to search through your purse to grab your card. As your fingers closed around the thin plastic, he held his hand out to stop you.

“First one’s on me.” He smiled.

“Are you sure?” You questioned half-heartedly, trying to feign some air of surprise.

“Positive.” He assured you, sliding them your way.

“Thanks, honey.” You flashed a smile, sliding the shot glass and salt shaker towards you. You licked the back of your hand, shaking a few grains of salt on to it before grabbing the tequila. As you raised the shot glass to your lips, you licked the salt off your skin and threw your head back, swallowing down the liquid. Before the taste could overwhelm you, you placed the lime wedge between your lips and sucked the juice from it. You placed the glass back down on the table, sending the bartender a subtle wink upon realizing he was watching the whole ordeal. Without another word, you grabbed your mixed drink and took a sip from it, washing the harsh tequila from your tongue.

As you turned around, you intended to step away from the bar and make your way towards the small stage, where there looked to be a band preparing their instruments for a soundcheck. Before you could, your eyes landed upon something much more intriguing than the amateur music group hoping to make their big break. There was a man, not very tall, yet appeared to be the most attention grabbing thing in the entire room, and inexplicably charismatic without even knowing it. He was not looking in your direction, but you wished he was, and upon catching sight of his soft and inviting features, you knew you would make it a point to make him notice you before the night was through. The dumb blonde nursing his third beer and already bordering intoxication was not your type, nor was the overly flirty bartender, but whoever was standing amidst the chaos of the crowd, whiskey glass tucked neatly in his hand and brown hair flowing gracefully off his shoulder, definitely was.

He was in blue jeans that appeared to be very worn. The knees and thighs had turned near white with how thin the denim had grown. The fabric hung from his figure slightly, cuffed at his ankles to show off the expensive looking brown boots he was wearing. On his upper half was a black button up, only tucked into his jeans on one side while the other hung down loosely over his hip. The top two buttons were undone, showing a flash of tanned skin from his chest. It made your mouth water, and it made you curious to see the rest of him. His face, when you finally had the opportunity to see the whole picture, seemed to take your breath away. His smile held a playful joy that was almost infectious, and his eyes were warm and only ever seemed to draw you in further.

You decided at that moment, it was imperative that you take the opportunity that was presented to you.

You were never one to jump first, but this time, you couldn’t seem to resist the temptation. Usually, you loved drawing them into you, to enchant them enough to make them approach you. You thought it was entertaining to watch them stutter over their words as they tried to persuade you of their intent. This time, you knew that this was a game where time was of essence, and if you did not jump at the chance, someone else would definitely beat you to it. You weren’t sure about his game, or if he was one with undying loyalty to a woman who did not want to be with him that night. You were unsure if he was already stuck in a game of flirtation with another woman at the bar, or if maybe, you were not his type at all. No matter, you still believed it to be your best bet to try, because leaving without a piece of him was not something you were willing to do, or at least do happily.

You drew in a long breath, swiping your tongue over your front teeth to ensure there was no lipstick smudged on them. Then, you ran a finger through your curled hair, arranging it neatly to frame your face. You took a sip of your drink, surveying the area to determine what the best move would be. He was next to a taller man with curly hair and a big nose, who was without a doubt, just as attractive. You decided that if you could not have your first choice, he would do it for you just the same.

A break in conversation allowed for you to make your move; the nameless boy turned away from his company for a moment, and then the taller boy seemed to abandon him in search of a booth on the other side of the bar. Before you could think up a line to deliver as you approached him, he took a step in your direction. Your stomach fluttered nervously and your heart sped as he continued moving towards the bar. You weren’t ready, but you weren’t willing to let it stop you from getting what you wanted. Instead, you turned towards the bar again and changed your course of action. You prayed that he would do exactly as you expected and come to stand beside you, because only then would you be able to make the first move.

After a few seconds of uncertainty, you had to bite back a smile when you felt a body present itself next to you. Immediately, before you even turned your head, you were hit with an intoxicating scent. Woody and deep, almost as if amber was delicately laced between the notes of sandalwood. Even with the heaviness, there seemed to be something light, almost like a citrus or a flowery smell. As if in an instant, your switch was flipped and you were ready to play. Slowly, you turned your head to the side and casted a careful glance at him. He had an empty glass in his hand, the ice melting due to the warmth of his palm surrounding it. Now that he was next to you, you could see the subtle gold of a hoop earring settled on his lobe, and a chain dangling loosely over his collarbones. There was a bracelet around his wrist and a ring sat on his middle finger. Suddenly you were overwhelmed by the idea of his fingers closed around your neck instead of the cup, and your stomach twisted into a knot.

The bartender seemed to be completely immersed in something, failing to notice his new customer. You smiled to yourself, wondering if you could use it to your advantage. The man had yet to notice your interest, and you were happy to keep it that way for a moment. The same bartender who had served you moments before passed by, not even giving the boy a second thought. He seemed to shift uncomfortably on his feet as he raised a hand to call him over, almost as if he was nervous to be rude. The bartender looked up for a moment, but continued on doing his previous task.

‘Perfect,’ you thought, sipping from your drink. The situation seemed to be resolving itself as the man beside you lowered his arm in defeat, tapping his fingers against the wood grain as he patiently waited his turn. You observed him as he did so, pitying him only slightly for his lack of confidence. You began to wonder if he was timid in all areas of his life, and if he was, how easy it would be to break him free from that chain. When the bartender took a step in your direction, intending to move past you to the customers at the other end of the line, you raised a hand to him and gave a sickly sweet smile. His eyes gave a sparkle as they landed upon your face, and his attention was quickly focused on nothing other than you. He cut towards you, ready to take your order again.

“Another shot?” He asked, already half-turned to grab the tequila bottle. You have a chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“My friend wanted to order, actually.” You said, nodding your head towards the boy beside you. “But I’ll take a shot too, once he gets his drink.”

“Oh, sure thing.” He said, averting his gaze to the person next to you instead. You felt a pair of eyes burning into you, but you did not want to look yet. Instead of addressing your notion of friendship, he cleared his throat and smiled at the man across the counter. He waited a moment before he spoke, wondering if you might have anything else to say. Eventually, he began to order and you listened intently to hear the sound.

“Double shot of Woodford, please.” He said, his tone low and gravelly. You could not ignore the rush of emotion that flooded you from the simple sound alone. “And I’ll get hers, too.” Now, you couldn’t resist the temptation to look at him. You shifted in place, turning towards him ever so slightly and catching his eye. Now that he was looking straight at you, his gaze heavy and his face close, you knew you had made the right choice. He was the only person in the whole bar that would be able to affect you with something as simple as a shared glance.

“Woodford?” You asked, your lip turning up into a smirk. “Expensive taste.”

“I can say the same about you.” He said, watching the bartender reach for a bottle of Don Julio. You gave a slight shrug, brushing off the comment. “Friends, eh?” He asked, addressing your earlier comment.

“Just figured you might want a drink.” You said, elusive to the real reason you’d called the bartender over. “Didn’t seem like he was very eager to serve you.”

“‘Preciate it, sweetheart.” He said, grabbing his drink from the counter as it was served. He swirled the ice around the glass for a moment, pondering his next words. “If we’re friends, I s’pose it would be nice to know your name.”

“Are you asking ‘cause you want to know, or ‘cause you feel like you have to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as a shot was placed in front of you. Seconds later, a lime wedge and salt shaker was placed next to it. You looked over at him, noticing that he was still watching you. You’d caught his attention, and in the exact way you had been hoping to.

“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t care.” He said, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his cup. “I’ve never been the type to entertain people I’m not interested in.” He had a drawl to his words that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. It didn’t sound like a southern accent, but then again, neither did your own. Perhaps both of you had come to Nashville to find a new life.

“So you’re interested?” You smirked, turning your head fully towards him now. He didn’t respond, instead taking another sip. “Y/n.” You said, smiling at his strong attitude. You liked it, and you appreciated the forward response. It made your job so much easier. “You?”

“Jake.” He said, seemingly pleased with your words. “And to answer your question, yes.” He grinned, setting his glass back down on the table. You took the opportunity to think over your next move while taking the shot he’d so kindly bought for you. You placed the empty shot glass back on the counter, sucking the juice from the lime as the burn traveled from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

“Jake,” You pondered the name, imagining nothing good as it infiltrated your mind. You imagined how it would sound, laced delicately around your tongue with his head between your legs. You wondered how it would hang in the air, heavy amidst the desire that would surround you two. “I like it.” You deducted, understanding that all of the aforementioned things would come to life before the night was through.

“I’m glad.” He let out a small laugh, looking over your face for a moment. There was a twinkle in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t mischievous, but almost seemed to be devious, like he was thinking and planning the exact same things you were. “Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“That depends.” You said, taking a sip from your straw, washing down the bitter lime and lingering tequila. “What kind of company are you wondering about?” You looked over at him, noticing his eyes still lingering over you. He gave you a small smirk, understanding that elusiveness was a part of your charm. He didn’t seem bothered by your indirect response, and if anything, he found it intriguing.

“The kind that takes you home with them at the end of the night.” His counter for your mystique was to be blunt, which did catch you off guard. For someone who seemed timid at a distance, he was awfully forward now that you were speaking. It made you wonder if you misjudged, or if he was hiding that part of him particularly well. You decided that if he was hiding it, it was for a reason, and one that you were rather eager to know about.

“No,” You shook your head. You debated elaborating, but decided to bite your tongue instead.

“Are you looking for someone to take you home, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing further as you watched him. “Is that why you were trying to get my attention?” You tried to keep a straight face as you pieced together his words. At face value, you took it as a general inquiry about the bartender, but you knew people better than to take anything at face value. He meant something deeper, but you didn’t want to mention it. You had faith in your ability to get him to cave, first.

“Wouldn’t say I was looking for your attention, honey. Seems as though it just happened.” You lied through your teeth, letting the accusation roll off your shoulders with ease. One of your biggest flaws was always responding to things as if it were an attack, and your defense was up; you wanted him, but not enough to bend to his will. You’d learned a long time ago that desperation was not a good look for you, and you much preferred it on someone else’s face.

“No?” He questioned, calling your bluff. “So you’re telling me you weren’t watching me earlier?” A prickle of indignation was felt in your spine as he spoke and you felt the need to correct him, even if he was right.

“Sneaky.” You muttered, your eyes flickering to his hand still wrapped around the glass. You couldn’t give up now, because that would leave him with the upper hand. Arguing seemed to be what he was hoping for, just so he could put you in your place, so you did the opposite; you admitted to the fact, but only to regain control of the situation. “You caught me.” You shrugged your shoulders, giving him an innocent smile. “So, what now?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” You rolled your eyes at him, but it was playful. Something about him was less bothersome; if anyone else were to be playing the same cards, you would have walked away, but he had an odd sort of charm about him. Plus, his face certainly didn’t hurt the case. “That didn’t answer my first question, though.” He said, his gaze growing slightly stronger. “Are you looking for someone to take you home?”

“Is that an offer, or just your curiosity getting the best of you again?” He gave another low chuckle at your reluctance to answer.

“Both.” His answer was curt, but you appreciated it. “If you’re interested, of course.” Normally, you would have made him chase you a bit, or work a little harder than what he’d already done. Other times, you would have jumped his bones so fast that he wouldn’t know what hit him, just to leave him alone to ponder all that happened in the short time. Right now, you did not feel like doing either of those things. He had piqued your interest in the best possible way, and for once, you felt like talking, even if it was going to lead to the same old outcome.

In another universe, maybe you even would have bent your rules for him and pursued something more.

But, of course, fantasizing about an alternative universe is only ever harmful in the long run, especially if you aren’t willing to put in the work to alter the universe you’re already stuck in.

And you, a secret romantic buried deep under the surface who covered their own heartbreak by becoming a player, had never once considered putting in the work to change.

After all, why would you ever want to change when playing dirty was so much fun?

“I’ve never been the type of person to entertain someone I’m not interested in.” You smirked, throwing back the last of your drink as you let him digest his own words that you’d thrown so powerfully back in his face. As much as it seemed like a lie, it was not; you would never entertain a man you did not want to be with. You only cared for leading them on enough to get what you wanted, then pretending they did not exist.

“Happy to see we’re on the same page, then.” He chuckled, seeming like he wanted to move closer to you, but he held himself back.

“Where are you from, Jake?” You asked, taking the step for him and scooting a little closer. It was not enough to touch him, but there was a notable difference in space between you now.

“Michigan.” He smiled, showing appreciation for your efforts to be closer. “And you?”

“Atlanta.” You responded, flagging the bartender over for another drink. “You’re a long way from home.” You noted, watching as the worker took your used glass and turned to mix you another. “What made you decide to live here?”

“Work.” He replied, sipping away at his own beverage. Now that you were closer, the smell of his cologne seemed to be suffocating you, but it was with great pleasure to succumb to such an end.

“Must be a good job if you were willing to move so far.” He gave a small smile, nodding his head after a moment.

“You can say that.” The look in his eyes made you believe it was no ordinary office job, nor a regular paycheck that motivated him.

“Was it a job, or was it a dream?” You pressed further, studying his expression.

“Both, I suppose.” He replied, curious about how easily you picked up on it. “I’m in a band.” You could not deny your interest in the topic, nor your personal infatuation with musicians in general. You should have guessed, but somehow it was so much sweeter coming from his mouth. Everything seemed to be sweeter when he was the one saying it. “What are you here for?”

“To start over.” You shrugged. “New place, new people… new everything.”

“What were you trying to get away from?” The question struck a sore spot, but you tried not to let it show. You liked to view your move as something brave, rather than a cowardly act. When he worded it as such, it made it seem like you were running out of fear rather than confidence.

“I wouldn’t say I was running from anything. More or less just looking for something more.” You explained.

“Have you found it yet?” The question was a loaded one, and you weren’t sure if you had the answer he was looking for. The conversation seemed to run deeper than anything you were intending, yet you didn’t seem to mind. Usually when at the bar, especially with a man, the conversation revolved around sexual desires and painful flirting. This one was different, and it seemed like he wanted to see into your soul before ever taking your clothes off. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t mind it.

You hadn’t found what you were looking for when you moved to the city, but you had definitely convinced yourself otherwise. When you made the big move, you were young and naive. You had been desperately in love with the idea of love despite never knowing what it actually felt like. As you decorated a new apartment with memorabilia of a different lifetime, you fantasized about replacing it with love letters and pictures of a man you had yet to meet. You went to bed nightly with a melancholy hanging over the room and a longing for a life you were never destined to live. That was what you had been in search of, and instead, you had given up. You filled the void with sex and money, drinking away the bitter taste of your own failure and falling into bed with people who did not matter. It was a sad exchange, and no real replacement for the fulfillment you once craved, yet you had been doing it for so long now that it was the only thing you knew how to do.

Although it was nice for someone to pick your brain for once, and it was thrilling to finally be faced with stimulating conversation, you were a creature of habit. It was too risky to give too much of yourself away, even if you liked all you had seen from Jake. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you were too selfish to let him go. You needed the notch in your belt, even if you were sacrificing his heart in the process. You needed to regain control of the conversation, to hold the power in your hands once more, and you knew you wouldn’t have to work very hard for it. As you conjured the best response to his question, you almost felt a shred of guilt about using him for your own personal gain. You decided that out of all of them, his heart would be the hardest to break.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I will, someday.” You whispered, knowing that what you had been searching for was long out of reach for you. You had sinned so much that a simple lifestyle of love would never be in the cards for you. You had made your bed, and it was time to lie in it.

“Maybe I can help with that.” He said, his voice dropping ever so slightly. He was curious about you, and how after only minutes of knowing you, he could not imagine a world in which you did not exist. You drew him in so easily that he could not question whether it was a good idea or not. He found you inexplicably easy to need.

“Maybe so, rockstar.” You smiled up at him, knowing he could not. He could help with plenty of other things, but never that.

“Am I keeping you from anyone?” He asked, looking around the crowded bar for a moment, realizing he may have been taking you away from friends. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, am I?”

“Definitely not.” He promised. “I’m here with my brothers. I see them enough—they can wait.”

“Don’t be like that, now.” You laughed. “You can find me later, when they’re drunk enough that they don’t notice you’re missing.” Even if you tried to make yourself seem heartless, it didn’t feel right cutting in on his family time. Humanity was something you didn’t often feel, but he seemed to pull on strings of your heart you no longer believed to exist. “I promise I’ll stick around.”

“No way,” he laughed, brushing you off. “I’d much rather get to know you, sweetheart. Plus, it saves me a headache from bickering with them all night.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Hesitation was still present in your voice, but if he was certain about it, you couldn’t find anything to complain about. Part of your hesitation stemmed from the fact that you did not want your night to be cut short by any distractions. The bar bathroom did not seem fitting for all you wanted to do with him, and if it took letting him go for a while to have him until the sun came up in the sky, you were okay with it.

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you come over and drink with us?” He offered, mistaking your reluctance as something selfless. Then again, he could not be upset if he were to discover your true intent, for his own was just as selfish. He feared that if he left you on your lonesome, someone else would catch your eye and he would lose his chance. Besides, inviting you to drink with the group wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had. In fact, he thought it might be quite enjoyable.

“Taking me to meet the family already?” You teased. “I must be special.” His lips upturned slightly, drawing your attention to the mustache that decorated his upper lip. It made his already beautiful face all the more remarkable.

“You certainly are, angel.” He affirmed your statement, seemingly gravitating towards you the longer he held your gaze. “You did catch my attention, after all.” Before you knew it, his face was inches away from your own. He looked down at you over his nose, his eyelashes casting a slight shadow over his reddened cheeks, burning from the alcohol he was drinking. The smell of his cologne mixed with the whiskey on his breath was turning you into a mess, insanity calling your name the longer you stayed in the position.

“Takes a lot to do that, eh?” You asked, you voice barely heard over the sound of your hearts beating in time.

“Some would say so.” He smiled, warmer and less flirtatious than the ones before. He knew he had you how he wanted you, and he felt as though he could let go of the act for a moment. The tip of his nose was brushing against your own, making the temptation almost too much to resist. You wondered if he would strike first, or if you would have to take the risk yourself. He was a flirt, and seemingly just as big of one as you were, but you weren’t sure how deep his confidence truly lied. He’d known you for all but a half a drink, yet your claws seemed to strike deep. He was trapped, and he could run, but would always look back over his shoulder to ensure you were following.

“Have I caught your attention enough for you to kiss me?” You asked, your tone quiet but your words impactful. His hand reached out for your hip, his fingers settling gently over the silky material of your dress. The touch felt good, but it was not nearly enough. Above all, it perpetuated a vicious cycle, for you knew that a touch so addictive would not be something you could walk away from.

Perhaps Jake Kiszka was not the one trapped, and for once, you had backed yourself into a corner at the hands of his irresistible sin.

You knew better than to seek someone with the same deadly power, but you could not manage to keep yourself away. He’d kept it so well hidden that you failed to realize his power until the very minute his skin met your own.

He leaned forward, the gap closing between you as his lips landed on your own. The violence was disguised with sweetness, and wrapped up in a bow of desire. The faint taste of the whiskey he was drinking was dancing on your tongue, drawing you in alongside the warmth of his body. You raised your hand to his cheek, cupping it in your palm as his hand guided you into him. You had never experienced a feeling so overwhelming, and the sensation of his tongue gliding over your lower lip, begging to push any boundaries, was so powerful it nearly shattered your psyche. In an instant, you forgot about your plan to take him home and instead were plagued with an imminent need for him. You worried that you might not be able to make it to the bathroom with his hand so powerfully holding you in place. In that moment, you needed Jake more than you had ever needed anything in your entire life.

As he pulled away, you fought the urge to pull him right back in. He did not move too far away, almost as if he was waiting for you to do exactly that. “Is that the answer you were looking for?” It was the exact answer you were hoping for, and the two of you felt no need to go any further with formalities. You knew what you wanted, and waiting seemed pointless. Before the night was through, he would have you, and whether then be in a bed or the bathroom, he was not sure.

“A simple yes or no would have done the same.” You teased, running your thumb tentatively over the soft skin of his cheek. He seemed to lean into the touch, making your hesitation disappear.

“Right,” he chuckled, still a bit dazed from the intensity of the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No need for that.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your response, leaning in and placing a shorter, sweeter kiss on your lips.

“Something to get you through meeting my brothers,” he explained, as if he needed an excuse to kiss you at all.

“Is that so?” You grinned. “They’re that bad?”

“No, not bad, just a lot.” He corrected, his hand still lingering on your hip. “Was hoping that if I kissed you, it would give you a reason to stick around.”

“I’m sure it’ll be quite alright. No need to stress yourself out, honey.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He sighed, wishing that he never brought up the idea at all. He would much rather stay at the bar, alone with you to do anything you wanted. With that, he pulled back from you and grabbed his drink from the counter. You did the same, watching him as he stepped away. Suddenly, a flood of fear ran through you and reached out, grabbing his arm before he could go any further. He gave you a confused expression, wondering what was wrong as you stepped towards him. You raised your hand to his face, letting your thumb swipe away some smudged lipstick decorating his lower lip.

“Don’t think pink is your color.” You giggled, releasing your hold on him.

“You sure?” He questioned. “I’m think I can pull it off.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, grabbing your drink from the counter. “Whatever you say, rockstar.” You said, waiting for him to lead the way.

“What, you really don’t think so?” He asked, extending his arm out to you. You joined him at his side, watching as he surveyed the room in an attempt to locate the booth his brothers were sat in. After a moment, he seemed to brighten up as his eyes landed on a booth with three people sat inside.

“Who knows, you could surprise me.” You replied, finding yourself looking in the same direction his eyes were pointing. As you did, it felt like you’d received a harsh blow to the stomach, nearly doubling over in shock as your gaze fixated on the booth. You knew it to be the right one because the curly headed boy from earlier was sitting at the edge of one bench, laughing at something the boy beside him had said. Across from him, though, was a side profile that was so stunning it nearly stole the air from your lungs. In an attempt to make sense of it, you looked over at Jake, recognizing the similarities instantly.

You were stuck wondering if it was a joke, or a perfectly wrapped present placed at your feet by the universe itself. The evil that normally ran through your veins seemed to increase tenfold as you understood that the door had opened for you to have access to not just a gorgeous, outlandishly charming man, but a set of (outstandingly beautiful) twins.

As Jake looked back at you, you covered your expression of joy in an instant, understanding that if you were going to pull it off, you needed to be as thorough and precise about your actions as possible. You did not want to pull one just to fumble the other, nor did you want to lose both of them in the process. Before you spoke, you chose your words incredibly carefully.

“I’m nervous,” you forced a small smile, trying your best to appear anxious as you spoke.

“What are you nervous about, angel?” He asked, stepping closer to you and seemingly falling straight into the trap.

“What if they don’t like me?” You offered, glancing over to the booth and back to him.

“Not possible, sweetheart. They’re quite easy to get along with. I’m sure they’ll love you.” He said, landing a gentle hand on your arm to reassure you.

“I want to go home with you tonight, Jake, but could we… keep it between ourselves? Just for now, at least.” You knew the words were incriminating, but you always had a plan in mind. If he responded the way you predicted, it would be easy enough from there.

“What, like it’s a bad thing?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what your intent was.

“No, honey.” You shook your head, giving a small laugh. “Not that I usually kiss and tell anyway, but I’d rather them see me as a person, not just the girl their brother is trying to fuck. It changes the way you see people, sometimes.” You explained, looking carefully over his expression as you spoke. You tried to keep your words sweet, hoping it might sway him to see it your way, even if your way was not how you were presenting it. “Does that make sense?”

“It does, angel.” He nodded, giving you a smile. “We can do that, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“It does,” you let out a sigh, fake but clearly convincing. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for, sweetheart.” He said, moving his hand to the curve of you back as he guided you through the crowd. “At least not yet, anyway.” He said the second part much quieter, as if he was already ahead of the game of secrecy. You wondered if maybe he enjoyed it, or the idea of having you in private got him off even further. There was much left undiscovered about Jake, and you were excited to see more. More than anything, you were happy that the first phase of your plan had come to fruition so easily.

You allowed him to lead you towards the group of unnamed boys, only a small nervous stutter in your heart. This was something you feared might be beyond your capabilities, yet you could not ignore the urge to try. When a player is faced with a challenge, backing down is not an option, and when it came to the game, nobody was more committed than you were. The minute your eyes landed on the previously unmentioned twin brother, your heart was set upon the desire for both, and you had grown so selfish over the years that you had yet to feel a shred of remorse about it. You knew that caution was needed, and every moment needed to be carefully calculated. It was a daunting task that would make a weaker woman shy away, but you were confident in your own abilities. Try as you might, you could not turn down such an opportunity.

Jake loosened his grip on you as you drew near the end of your seclusion. As he approached the chatter-filled group, they turned to look at him. Their eyes didn’t take long to land on you, but once they did, they didn’t seem to want to leave. You were hyper aware of the skimpy dress hanging over your body, tasteful enough not to potray you as a slut, yet bold enough to catch ample amounts of attention. It did not come as a surprise when all of their gazes were not pointed at your face, but rather the peek of cleavage from the black material covering your chest, and soon after, the smooth and enticing skin of your legs.

“Found some extra company, Jacob?” If it was even possible, the curly headed boy who looked so similar to Jake was even more beautiful up close.

Much like his brother, the beauty seemed to sneak up on you, drawing you in from far away and stealing your life away without a second thought the minute you were within reach.

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash the party.” You gave him a sweet smile, hiding the hunger in your eyes so you did not scare him away.

“Not at all,” he said, sliding further into the booth to make room for the two of you. You sat first, allowing Jake to take the spot at the end of the table.

“She was here all by herself, figured she could use some friends.” Jake smirked, casting a sideways glance at you.

“Friends are plentiful, here.” The boy with long curly hair said, giving you a smile. “I’m Danny.”

“And I’m Sam, Jake’s brother.” The boy beside him cut in in as if he was afraid he’d be forgotten.

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n.” You extended the sentiment, looking both of them over.

“And I’m Josh, also Jake’s brother.” The boy beside you spoke now, catching your attention and forcing you to look in his direction once again. His brown eyes were warmer than Jake’s, perhaps a tad bit friendlier. His hair was shaved down on the sides, and his cheeks were tinged with a blush from the alcohol he was drinking.

“A twin, perhaps?” You asked, hoping you were guessing correctly.

“How’d you know?” He raised an eyebrow, but did not seem surprised at the statement. He was intrigued by you, and his face did not hide the fact very well. The attraction was mutual, and you could read him like a book, much different than his brother. You held a cloud of desire around your head, and no man was privy to the reason why. It affected them all the same, and it was the reason why you were stuck in the situation you were in, now. Upon first glance, his twin brother felt all of the same things.

“Lucky guess.” You chuckled, taking in all of him that was up for offer. His clothes were a bit basic, yet seemed to suit him well. The long sleeved white sweater he was wearing appeared soft, and the cologne that radiated from him was mouth-watering. It was light, fresh smelling, like sage and cedar wood. Underneath that you could smell notes of long burnt out incense sticks that seemed to cling to the fibers of his clothing. He had on beige khakis, and even if his style was not exactly eye-catching, he pulled it off well. It was clean, concise, and did not draw attention away from his face that was seemingly crafted by gods.

“Takes one to know one?” He guessed, curious about your precise analysis of the two. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, just a good observer is all.” You replied. “Only child, actually.”

“Ah,” he hummed, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing curiously over your face. He was intrigued just as well as you were, which seemed to make your job so much easier. “Explains a lot, then. Nobody to keep you company, so you had to occupy yourself with watching everyone else.”

“I suppose you could put it that way.” You laughed, already beginning to notice the clear difference between the two. Josh was much more outgoing than his counterpart, with a goofy smile and booming voice. He seemed to say whatever was on his mind, whenever he wanted to. You weren’t sure if the liquor had any impact on that fact, or if he was like that all of the time. You were curious to know, and you knew that in due time, you would have all of the answers you wanted. “I think people are interesting.”

“That they are.” He agreed, sipping from a beer bottle in hand. “Am I interesting?” He was definitely drunk, but you did not mind; if anything, it seemed to rid you of the uncomfortable getting to know him phase.

“Incredibly.” You laughed, the sound filling the immediate air around you all and catching all of the attention. You were not afraid to admit to your own beauty, and how easy it was for you to catch attention. When you had a smile on your lips and a laugh stuck between your teeth, the genuine warmth pulled people in even further.

“I don’t know if I like how fast you answered that.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows with another grin lighting up his whole face.

“If it’s the truth, I don’t think it really matters if you like it or not.” You explained, keeping your tone light to match his. You tuned out of your conversation for a moment, just for long enough to gauge how Jake was taking to the two of you talking. Within seconds, you realized he was not even listening; he was stuck in a lighthearted argument with his brother across the table about something that seemed (to you, at least) incredibly unimportant. Once you were certain you were in the clear, you focused your attention on Josh again. Even after only a few seconds of looking elsewhere, his beauty seemed to smack you in the face with a newfound intensity, as if it was angry with you for not paying attention.

“Why are you here all alone, anyway?” Josh questioned, fidgeting with the corner of a napkin sat in front of him on the table.

“I figured spending a night at the bar would be better than sitting at home all alone.” You shrugged, knowing that you were only giving him half truths. Sitting there and flirting with him was the reason you came out alone, even if you did not know he would be the main subject of your focus beforehand. Well, one of them at least.

“And you were just lucky enough to run into a group as fun as us.” He added, making sure to motion towards the whole table as he spoke. He seemed as if he was big on talking with his hands, and it was a trait you thought was quite cute.

“Luck is a good word for it.” You agreed, deciding now that he’d invited you in, you could begin to seek out the weak spots of his strong personality. For a moment, you did not speak again. You took the time to study him in his entirety, but played it off as if you were invested in the bullshit argument still going down beside you.

His eyes were shining with amusement at his brother's butting heads, and his smile never faltered. You wondered if he was genuinely just happy all of the time, or if the breathtaking smile was a constant mask he’d learned how to perfect. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop with one hand as his other fidgeted with something else. It bounced between the aforementioned napkin and the waning edge of the beer bottle label. His foot tapped against the ground as well, every so often switching to a full on leg bounce. You had yet to confirm if it was anxiety making him jitter so badly, or if it was a surplus of energy. Either way, it seemed like he could get up at that very moment and run laps around the building.

There were silver earrings placed in different spots on his ear, yet the chains that dangled around his neck were gold. It was a contradiction to the way Jake wore his, with gold in his lobe and silver decoration on his chest. You thought it was interesting enough, but nothing worthwhile enough for you to remember. He hummed along to the songs the band was playing every now and again, showing his appreciation of music through minute actions. You wondered if Josh was also in the band that Jake had previously told you about. The song switched, and there was a twitch in Josh’s eye as his lips upturned ever so slightly. He liked the song, and you could capitalize off it. This specific bar had a liking for old music, and luckily for you, your father refused to listen to any song that came out after ‘95. It was your forte, and seemingly his too. You wished you could thank the (mostly) cover band for picking such a great song to play.

“Fairport Convention.” You sighed, smiling as you stirred your ice around your drink. As you said it, Josh seemed to perk up. His head turned towards you, his eyes shining with admiration for your music knowledge. Once you knew his attention was yours, you spoke again. “I love this song.”

“You… uh, yeah. Me too.” He grinned. If he thought you were attractive before that second, it seemed to grow even stronger. His whole body shifted as he turned in your direction, and his tongue darted out and over his bottom lip. “This is definitely one of my favorite bands of all time.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You said, looking over at him as you sipped your drink.

“And I mean it.” He assured you. “I didn’t know I was in the company of someone with such fantastic taste.” Like venom, your next words came smoothly and deadly.

“There’s lots you don’t know, but I’m sure you could find out if you’re ever interested.” Your voice dropped as you spoke, as if the words shared between you were sacred. In a sense, they were; there was no chance in hell you would ever say it loud enough for Jake to hear. Your eyes flickered to meet his, holding his gaze with a soft intensity that made him squirm in his seat. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, trying to piece together your true intentions. His demeanor shifted in an instant, and in a way you very much needed to see more of.

“Is that so?” He pried further, treading lightly and keeping his voice as hushed as your own. As he said it, you felt Jake’s hand snake to your thigh underneath the table, so stealthily that you would not have even noticed the movement if not for his burning touch lingering just below the hem of your dress. “I’m not sure if I understand what you mean, mama.” The pet name rolled off his tongue, coated in a slight husk that raised goosebumps across your skin. You wondered if you should feel dirty for flirting with Josh while Jake’s hand lingered so tentatively on your leg, but you seemed to miss the boat when it came to remorse in its entirety.

“I think you understand exactly what I mean, honey.” You chuckled, giving a soft smile. His eyes darkened at your words, as if the statement had opened up a whole new world for him. You had given him permission to think such things about you, and he was grateful for it, almost like he’d been fighting the urge to see you as such since he first laid eyes on you.

“Mhm,” he hummed to himself, his head cocking to the side slightly as he tried to figure you out. “How could I say no to an offer like that?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” You admitted, holding his gaze to cement your position on the matter. With that, Jake was calling your name and bringing you into conversation with the rest of them. You looked over Josh for a moment longer, then turned to look at his brother. You would have been fearful of Jake seeing Josh’s dumbfounded face if not for the fact he was fully immersed in you. As soon as he caught sight of your face again, he seemed just as enthralled in you as he was when you were talking by the bar.

Time passed and drinks were had, laughs were plentiful and the flirting was unbearable, although kept expertly under wraps. Bouncing between the two seemed like a daunting task you feared you would not be able to do, yet the longer you did it, the easier it became. As the time passed, you even seemed to enjoy it. Danny and Sam seemed incredibly drunk, and due to their innate inability to be observant, your work had become quite simple. Jake had gone to the bar and grabbed everyone another round of drinks, and you had noticed that he switched to drinking beer as the night dwindled on. Your best guess was that he did not want to be too drunk to entertain you, and you had to appreciate his effort.

“Do you have any plans after this, mama?” Josh asked, leaning in almost too close for comfort. Although, it would be very comfortable if not for the crowd onlooking the two of you.

“Looking to learn more already?” You teased, casting a look at him through the corner of your eye.

“Is it such a crime?” He challenged, wishing you would turn to face him once more.

“Not a crime, but not a good night for me. I have to work in the morning.” The lie slipped off your tongue as smooth as silk, no hesitation present in your answer. If only he knew the truth, he may not be so willing to give in to you. “Raincheck?” You asked, turning your head towards him a little more.

“You name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” He promised. Your forearms were resting against each other on the table, incriminating the two of you even further. Josh seemed to be leaning in to you, and if you were a little more drunk, you would have reciprocated the action. Before he could get too close, though, you felt Jake’s fingers tighten against your thigh, but it was not in the soft teasing manner as it was before. It pulled you out of the bubble that surrounded you and Josh, causing a flood of fear to run through you as you looked over at him.

The look in his eye was sinister, yet not threatening. You weren’t sure how he pulled it off, but you had no better way to describe it. His grip on you remained the same, and for a moment, he did not speak. His jaw was hard set, the muscles in his cheeks tense as he looked over your face. “I’m going to grab another drink. Care to join?” He asked, his voice soft and nothing like the flame in his eye. Although his tone was misleading, and you knew that his question was not as it appeared; he had no intent on going back to the bar without you.

“Sure,” you nodded, giving him a smile. You wanted to maintain your composure as much as you could, because if you faltered even slightly, he would see you exactly as you were. He stood, not making any further moves as you joined him. Discreetly, you gave Josh’s knee a squeeze to reassure him after leaving him hanging before you stood yourself.

Jake began walking without looking back to see if you were following; he did not need to, for he felt the cloud of euphoria surrounding him that was only sourced from your company. When he reached the bar, he leaned against a vacant area with room enough for two. He faced inwards, looking at all of the whiskey bottles on the wall and wondering if he would need something stronger to cope with your venomous personality. You took the spot beside him, wondering if he would speak, or if you would have to come up with something on your own. It was so much easier when he did the talking for you.

His lip was curled slightly, as if he had a sour taste on his tongue. You noticed his shoulders heaving with every breath, but he did not appear outwardly furious. Maybe he was holding it all under the surface and waiting for the right moment to explode. For a second, you believed that you had ruined your chances with the beautiful man before you. You wondered what he was thinking, or how much he heard or saw of you and Josh. His silence was painstaking, and you could not deny the nervous flutter in your stomach or the clammy palms.

Then, he turned to look at you, his eyes catching yours in a tell-all reunion. If he was angry, it had dissipated in a second and it was now replaced with the same carnal desire that plagued him before you ever joined his brothers at the booth. You had your pretty face to thank, and the budding feelings that were already blossoming in his heart. He felt for you more than a one night stand should, and even if he knew you were evil to the core, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling such a way. The cycle continued, and he had already branded himself a fool for you.

“What game are you trying to play, sweetheart?” He asked, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Depends… what’s your favorite?” You smirked up at him, giving a bat of your eyelashes to cement the flirtation in your tone. He gave a low chuckle, neglecting a response, instead raising his beer bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. As he drank down the liquid, your eyes drifted towards the exposed columns of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing with each long gulp.

You couldn’t help but think how foolish he was to expose his very lifeline to you, and although you were not a being of mythical nature and blood was not exactly your thing, you were certain that your lips, or better, your tongue settled gently atop the skin of his jugular would send him straight to his knees. You were tempted to test it out, just to see if your assumptions were correct. You could lean forward and try, but you knew it was best to wait; he would run himself in circles for a few moments before he inevitably landed himself in that exact position.

As he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, the glisten of alcohol making the plush skin of his lips glisten under the dim bar light, his eyes drifted back down towards your face before his head dropped into its earlier position. He was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to understand you better, and then he spoke softly, leaning down so you could hear him over the boom of the stereo system.

“I don’t like games at all, angel.” The sultry tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you did not let it phase you any further than that. Before he could pull away, you turned your head inwards, just enough so that your nose would brush against his. At the sudden touch, he did not shy away like you expected. If anything, he seemed to lean further into you without any hesitation. At that moment, you understood that you were not playing with an amateur; any lesser man would shy away from your strong nature. If you had to admit, him being open to the advance made your desire to play him grow even stronger. “I saw you talking to Josh. Do you think you’re being sly? Playing hard to get?” He asked, the sheer power behind his soft tone making your knees weak and your stomach twist in a knot. “Or are you trying to make me jealous?” If only he knew how extensive your evil truly was, he would never have spoken at all and instead turn away to run. His accusations were nowhere near the atrocities you were intending to commit. “What, you have nothing to say, now? Finally have you cornered?”

“Just don’t think you’d like what I have to say, is all.” You said, placing your empty cup down on the bar top without breaking the position. His eyes were boring into your own, as if he was trying to make you submit to him. In truth, you found his confidence comedic. Of course, you’d give him what he wanted, but he’d be doing you more of a favor than you were doing him. It wouldn’t take him very long to put down the dominant facade and comprehend that he was not the one with the power. “Some things are better left unsaid, Jacob.”

A flame was dancing dangerously behind his pupil, letting you know that there was much more to his character if you looked behind the mask he constantly had on. It intrigued you, making you wonder what would happen if you continued to nurse it with gasoline. Perhaps the explosion would be quite enjoyable, even for days after the disaster. Russian roulette was a game that often seemed tempting, and playing it with Jake made it all the more enticing.

The lights were low, making it incredibly difficult to place the emotion in his eye. Even then, it didn’t matter; all men were the same, and he was already caught on your hook. He was irritated, annoyed at your evasion and what seemed to be a tiresome game of cat and mouse, but it was not enough for him to lack interest in you. The scent of whiskey on your breath, casted warmly over his lips was drawing him in further, making him wonder if he could still taste it on your tongue if he acted fast enough. He thought he had the upper hand, that he was the one who was charming you, but he could not seem to see that he was playing the exact way you wanted him to. He was blissfully unaware, and you were ready for the kill. “If it means that much to you, Jacob, I’m sure the bathroom is free. Maybe a quick stop might convince you of where my loyalty lies.” The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a small, wicked smile. “Josh was never offered an invitation like that, was he?”

You reached out, running a delicate hand over his bicep that was covered with the thin material of his button-up. He flexed in response of the feeling, the touch running through him and clouding his judgement. You leaned forward, captivating him further. It was your time to strike, and you were moving with full force. He was too weak to resist, even if he knew he should. You did not need to deny the flirting accusations, because he had seen it with his own eyes. Doing so would drive him further way, but you could capitalize off the fact that he did not know the true motives of your conversation with Josh. For now, you could let him believe it was to make him jealous, because it worked in your favour.

In that moment, he realized the full extent of your wicked nature. He wanted to walk away, to leave you to wallow in the loss after he caught you flirting with his brother, but something about the burn of your touch and the calming effect of your gaze made the desire flee him. He knew you had no intentions of anything further than sex, and now that your mask had melted away, he could even understand that you didn’t even have care for him as a person. Getting off was the only thing that mattered, and that much was clear, but not even that seemed to turn him away. With every touch and lingering stare, every ounce of kindness (even if it was rare) and each one of your sweet smiles gave him a breath of hope that maybe he had misjudged the situation and you were actually telling the truth.

The vicious cycle had already begun, and he was a fool for thinking he could escape. He couldn’t resist your temptation, and he could not refute his desire to have you, too. As long as you continued to feed him, he would come crawling back, even if it would kill him. He could not assume the worst of you, especially because he’d only known you for a short time, so he relaxed under your touch and gave in to the feeling. He wanted to change your mind, to be the one to keep you for longer than a day, and he was willing to do whatever he could to persuade you to give him the chance.

Little did you know, by offering him the invitation, you were walking straight into your own demise. Although he did not know it yet, he would not be the one to steal your heart, but he would be the one to put an end to your venomous ways.

“How kind of you.” He shot back, but the refrain from earlier seemed to disappear. “Your generosity is staggering, sweetheart.”

“Is that you saying no?” You took it upon yourself to move closer to him, nearly pressing yourself into his body in hopes that it would sway his thoughts. He turned his head down towards you, casting a far away glance from over his nose, as if he was already thinking of all the things the two of you could get up to behind a locked door.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” His voice was quiet, but his tone was strong. His hand reached for your hip, the pull of your aura too strong. He couldn’t help himself.

“Why don’t you go wait in the bathroom, and I’ll go and collect my things. I’ll tell them I’m headed home so they won’t even suspect a thing.” You said, giving a soft smile as his eyes watched your face. “Then, I can show you just how generous I really am.”

“How do I know you’re not playing another one of your little games?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, heaving a little sigh as you did so. You could not lie and say that abandoning him just to mess with him had not crossed your mind, but you needed him far too much to walk away without anything. So, instead of making a fuss, you reached up and let your fingers settle over the clasp back of your diamond earring. You slipped it off and extended your hand towards him. He looked to the shiny rock, then back at your face, unsure of what you were doing.

“Take it, so you know I’ll come back.” You motioned your hand further towards him, insisting on the fact. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed it from you. He slipped it in his pocket, nodding in appreciation for your lack of fight.

“Don’t be too long, sweetheart. I don’t like being kept waiting.” He spoke, looking down at you once more before taking a step back. His cockiness was infuriating, yet looked good on him. Instead of arguing, you winked at him before he turned to walk away. Once he was swallowed by the crowd, you turned to the bar and grabbed a napkin from the stack sitting nearby. Quickly, you called the bartender over to ask him if you could borrow a pen. Luckily, he was quick to retrieve you one, and you scribbled a message down on the paper.

You walked back towards the booth you were sitting in moments before, making sure Jake was nowhere in sight. When you reached the group again, Sam and Danny were chattering amongst themselves while Josh seemed to be awaiting your arrival. You shot him a smile, sliding in beside him for just a second to tie up any loose ends and to let Josh know that the invitation was still very much alive. “Hey,” you breathed, talking only loud enough for him to hear.

“Was wondering where you were.” He replied, his stare intense as he silently begged you to move closer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You said, giving a sympathetic smile. “Jake wasn’t feeling well so he went to the bathroom. Probably because he was mixing beer and whiskey.” You paused, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “He wanted me to tell you guys not to wait up for him. I wish I could stay longer, but I have to work in the morning.” You put all of your heart into the fake tale to make it believable, and Josh was just drunk enough to take your word for it.

“You’re leaving already?” There was a hint of disappointment in his eye, but when you reached out under the table and landed a gentle hand on his thigh, he seemed to perk up.

“I wish I could stay,” you said, finding his hand so you could slip the napkin into his palm. He grabbed it from you, keeping it as discreet as he could. “Thank you for being so sweet and letting me drink with you guys, though.”

“Anytime, mama.” He said, noticing your fingers still lingering on him. There was a twitch in his jaw as his teeth clenched together. If he could have it his way, he’d have you right then and there.

“I’ll see you again sometime?” You asked, a fake look of hope in your eye.

“Definitely.” He nodded. “You have a way home? Do you want me to walk with you?” He offered, partially concerned with your safety, but more concerned with getting you alone.

“I live just around the corner, so no need for that.” You assured him, imploring him to remember the note clutched tightly in his hand. “I’ll see you later, Josh.” You gave him a lingering stare as you grabbed your purse and backed out of the booth. He nodded in response, watching your hips as you walked off into the crowd. When you were out of eyesight, he looked down at the napkin, scrawled with your number and a message for him.

Call me so we can arrange that raincheck. Keep it between us, though—a secret is all the more fun ;)

You walked towards the bathroom with a fervor, pushing through the crowd with little regard for anyone or anything. It had been an extremely long night of flirting with little reward thus far. Knowing that Jake was waiting for you, feeling the same way that you were, was enough to make you want to tear the building down in order to get to him. When you rounded the corner to the one single bathroom that the building had (which in your opinion was a poor judgment on the owners part), you noticed nobody pooling around the door to wait their turn. It came as a surprise, especially considering how crowded the establishment was, but you certainly could not find a complaint about it.

Before you went inside, you reached into your purse. First, you popped a mint in your mouth, settling it under your tongue as you reapplied your deodorant and lipgloss. You ran your hand through your hair and took a deep breath, settling your thoughts before you joined Jake. The whole night has been a whirlwind, and you were shocked that you made it this far. You reached out, your fingers clasping around the handle and turning it, only to find that it was locked. You let out a huff of irritation, raising your fist to knock on the solid wood door. You hit against it with little force, sending a pattern of thuds echoing into the other side. You thought that if you did it like so, he would recognize that it was you.

You waited for a moment, and received nothing in return. Frustrated, you knocked again, a little louder this time. When he did not answer, you tapped your foot against the ground while anxiety invaded your mind. You worried that maybe you had crossed a line, pushed him a little too far and he’d changed his mind. Worse than that, you feared he decided to give you a taste of your own medicine and lead you on only to leave you with nothing. Just as you were ready to knock again, the knob twisted and the door slowly opened, revealing Jake’s smirking face illuminated by the fluttering fluorescent bulb.

“Asshole,” you muttered, unpleasant about his actions.

“Impatient, much?” He raised an eyebrow, opening the door to let you in. You pushed past him, watching him close the door and lock it before turning to face you.

“Not impatient,” you shook your head. “Just wondering why you were keeping me waiting.”

“That is impatience, sweetheart.” He chuckled, stepping towards you. “Just like you not being able to wait until we got home.”

“So what?” You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. You were becoming less annoyed the closer he got, and now that he was within arms reach, you had almost forgotten about the minor inconvenience entirely. “Maybe you should take it as a compliment.” You offered, reaching out and settling your hand on his bicep. You pulled him further towards you and his hand shot to your hip as if it were a natural reaction.

“Who says I don’t?” He challenged, his lips just inches away from your own. He was teasing you without even doing a thing, imploring you to make the decision you both had been waiting so long for. “You’ve got a habit of jumping to conclusions.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, the smile still eating away at your lips. “You’ve got an awful way of showing it.” You had been with plenty of people, many in this exact situation, yet it had never come so easily as it did with him. There was something compelling about Jake, and it made you want to banter with him and challenge his every move. It wasn’t malice, but it was fun, and you knew you would have a very hard time letting go of it when the night was through. Something told you that Jake was not the type of person you should let go of.

Perhaps that feeling was meant to be felt in a romantic context, yet you were still greedy enough to keep him on your hook for your own selfish desires.

“Maybe I’ll have to show it in some other way, then.” He theorized, bringing his hand to rest on your jaw. You did not have to respond in order for him to feel your enthusiasm. He leaned down, wasting no more time as he pressed his lips to yours. The seclusion of the bathroom had been a blessing in disguise; as his lips moved against your own, you could feel his guard being let down. Whether that was because of privacy, or because you finally had the opportunity to leech the life from him, you did not know.

What you did know was that because the two of you were alone, everything felt all the more fantastic. His hand felt like it was burning to the touch, melting into your skin and bringing the two of you together as one. The taste of alcohol on his tongue was even more delicious, because this time you knew it was laced with sin. His chest pressed against yours was intoxicating because you could feel the beating of his heart in time with yours. The smell of his cologne was not clouded by perfumes and aftershaves of people walking by, and his ragged breathing was not covered by the boom of music. In here, you had access to him in whatever way you pleased without interference from any external force. In here, you had the opportunity to take him for your own.

His lips trailed from your own, brushing over the firey skin of your cheeks and eventually, down to your neck. The graze of his teeth against your pulse-point was was driving you to insanity, and the feeling of his tongue running over your sweet spots was the nail in the coffin. For a brief moment, you feared that with him, your power was obsolete. Every touch was electric, and every second seemed antagonizingly slow. You were at his disposal now, and you wondered if he would be kind to you despite all of the bad karma headed in your direction.

As he continued to work his way down to your collarbone, you knew that that was no way he could be your bad karma, because no punishment should feel so good.

He backed you into the countertop, the backs of your thighs slamming against the cool tile and sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could recover, and without ever moving his lips from you, he planted his hands firmly on your waist and lifted you onto the counter. He was moving so quickly that you barely had time to process the submissive role he’d forced you into. His hand wandered up your body, settling on the thin material of your dress just above your breasts. The feeling of his warm hands on your cold skin made your breath catch in your throat, and when he pulled the material down, you felt a whine escape your lips.

“Needy little thing,” he muttered, his voice raspy with lust as his eyes grazed over your now bare chest. He’d become a whole new person in an instant, and shyness or reserve completely fleeing him. You wanted to know this side of him, more than you ever wanted to know the other side of him. There was something bordering animalistic in his approach, and his eyes darkened with the intensity of his need for you. “You want me, sweetheart?” He asked, lightly running his thumb over your hardened nipple.

For once, completely submitting to a man seemed like the right thing to do. You felt in your heart that if you were good to him, he would be fantastic to you.

“So bad, Jake.” You breathed, looking over his face as you spoke. You noticed a slight scowl on his lips that had not been there earlier, and a shed of malice in his eyes. Perhaps Jake was the type to become the worst version of himself when his clothes were off, and you were not shy in admitting that it only turned you on further. You wondered if maybe he was not looking for you to call him by his name; so far, he’d exuded his adoration for dominance, so perhaps he was searching for a title that fit the character. You thought that if you’d made it this far without fucking up, the least you could do was try your luck. “I need you, sir.”

His pupils engulfed his irises as he listened to your words and the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. He was painfully hard, the newest term of endearment sending him into a craze as he bunched the bottom of your dress in his fists. You raised your ass off the counter, allowing him to push the fabric to your navel. As you sat back down, his hands caught your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. The two of you were perfectly in tune, now. He was fucked up for needing you to refer to him in such a way to get off, and you were just as fucked up for knowing exactly what to say without him telling you.

He hooked his fingers through the side of your panties, pulling them down with your help. “You need me?” He asked, his eyes settling on your cunt, finally getting a taste of what he’d been waiting for all along. “You flirt so much that you just can’t wait another second to be touched? Is that it?” He pressed further, his eyes only flickering to your face once to catch a glimpse of your expression.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, aching at the thought of him being the one to touch you. Your desperation had grown so quick and so strong that it was nearly painful, and you had to fight the urge to reach between your legs and do the job for him. As much as you enjoyed his antics, you knew you would enjoy sex with him even more.

“So what was it?” He asked, letting his rough fingertips graze the soft skin of your thighs. The touch sent goosebumps prickling over your skin. “Or who was it might be the better question.”

“W-what?” You stuttered, only half listening to his tirade.

“Don’t play dumb, angel.” He scolded, his fiery gaze flicking upwards and holding your stare this time. Before he spoke again, he placed one hand on your knee, roughly pushing it to the side to give him access to you. “Who turned you into such a mess? Was it me, or was it my brother?” Jake knew as soon as the words left his lips, it hit a nerve within you. You had expected him to drop the subject and forget about it as soon as he got you naked, that he would feel superior for being the one to have you in such a way. Clearly, you had misjudged him, and Jake was the type to hold a grudge. That, or he didn’t really care all that much and just loved to torture you.

“You, sir.” You promised, making sure to add a breathiness to your tone that would send him spiraling. It worked, but not to the extent you had hoped. His hand drifted to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core yet far enough away to make it excruciatingly hard for you to sit through.

‘Maybe he’s a sadist,’ you thought. Then, a worse idea washed over you; if he was a sadist, you would gladly be the masochist. At that moment, the tables turned. The boy before you had made you into a mess, spinning your entire world on its axis and changing your trajectory. For once, you had no concern for your own pleasure, and felt that you could only accept such kindness if it were to please him.

In short, he’d turned you soft.

Jake knew that this conversation was making you squirm, but he did not know the reason why. You did not feel guilt for flirting with Josh; you were overcome with emotion at the idea of living to be a source of pleasure for Jake. You were so keen on the idea of using others for your own personal gain, yet as he stared at you from between your legs, waiting for his next moment to strike, you knew that you would give up the whole world just to be of use to him, in any way he deemed necessary.

Sexually, of course.

Romance was never an option laid out on the table, nor would it ever be.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” He asked, his upper lip curling as he brought his hand to your cunt. You let out a gasp, your fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop as his thumb brushed over your clit. It was featherlight, a minimal touch that should not have produced such a strong effect on you, yet everything seemed grand when Jake was the one doing it.

For a split second, you felt regret at the idea of trying to get Josh into your bed, too. You need not be so greedy when someone so fantastic was willing to fulfill all of your needs. Then, the moment passed and your wicked nature returned to you. You were excited at the prospect of having Josh in the same way, because you had little doubt that he would treat you just as good.

“Did you want him in here with you, playing with your pretty little pussy?” The vulgarity wrapped delicately around his tongue, like it was the sweetest word he’d ever spoken. You felt yourself clench around nothing, your heart beating hard enough to burst through your ribcage. “You want him to touch you, instead?”

“No, sir.” You whined, feeling the muscles in your thighs twitch as he added pressure to his thumb. You were only partially lying, because you knew that if he stopped, you would break down, crumbling to the ground and turning to dust from the loss of his precious company. You did not want Josh to touch you instead, you just wanted him to do it too. “I just want you, baby.” You pleaded, hoping he could read between the lines and see that you wanted more.

Jake knew you were lying; he knew that you were not a lustful woman who caught the attention of men at the bar; you were a foul, wicked entity that was rotten to the core. He could see it in your eyes, the lack of remorse and shame. There was no room for any other emotion in you other than desire, but he felt lucky to be on the receiving end of such things. If he was smart, he would have turned and walked out the door. He should have left you there to wallow in your own stupidity and arrogance, and maybe then you would have learned not to make such a mistake. Every time he felt like he had the willpower to do so, you caught his eye, or another whiny moan pushed past your pink, glossed lips, and he knew he would stay between your legs until he heaved his last dying breath. Leaving you was not an option, yet staying would kill him.

Either way, he knew that death was most feasible, and he would rather die hearing his name stuck in your throat than alone and clinging to the memory.

“Then let me hear how fucking bad you want it.” He ordered, his words resembling a growl as he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers. Not long after, he pushed his middle and index finger inside of you. Your back arched at the feeling, your hips lifting off the counter to meet the curl of his fingers inside of you. You let out a string of curses, a groan tearing through your chest as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You had no idea what he was depriving you of until you felt it, and now you feared you could not live without it.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped, noticing the steady pace of his fingers be joined by his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear it.” He encouraged, nearly driven to madness at the knowledge he was the one making you sing such precious sounds. You leaned back, your head resting on the scratched mirror as you portrayed yourself in an even more pornographic manner. Your tits were spilling from the top of your dress and your knuckles were white from gripping the countertop so tightly. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your lips parted as he worked his way up to familiarity with your body. Although he wasn’t certain he would see you again after the night was through, he wanted to ensure that if he did, he knew you well enough to pick up where you left off tonight. Plus, he hoped that if he did a good enough job, you would invite him back for more.

His need to be needed by you was debilitating, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt like something else entirely when he was around you, like pleasing you was the only thing in the world that mattered.

You would think that by now he would know better, especially after seeing the evil you were capable of when it came to his brother, but it did not matter to him. He wanted to be with you so badly that he chose to blind himself on your behalf. He’d tricked himself to believe you were genuine, and he had enough faith in his own ability that he believed he could make you forget about your attraction to Josh. When the night was through, he was confident that his brother would not even be a passing thought in your mind.

His own naïveté would inevitably be the end of him, but he was too stubborn to admit the truth.

He was a force to be reckoned with, but you were an otherworldly force that not only him, but the world itself had never encountered, and likely never would again.

“Feels so fucking good, sir.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as another forceful pull of pleasure twisted your stomach. His eyes were settled on your cunt, watching his fingers drive you to the brink of insanity. The sight was doing just the same to him—with every pump of his fingers, his cock throbbed in anticipation for what he would experience in due time.

“See, sweetheart? You do know how to do something worthwhile with your mouth after all.” He muttered, talking down to you all while blessing you with the most generous gift. He was still seething that Josh had a taste of the sweetness you had to offer, even if he was the lucky one to have you so intimately. Instead of depriving you both of the pleasure, he figured he could get the best of both worlds. He might have felt remorse if not for you enjoying his harsh words so much.

Another moan escaped you. It was louder than you anticipated, engulfing the silence that once existed in the air. The sound was so vulgar that it clung to the poorly decorated walls, seeping into the foundation and making home. You would never be able to walk into the place again without being reminded of the memory indefinitely. Jake's company far outweighed the value of any other, and his legacy would live on in the building forever. Even as sharp insults slid off his tongue and in your direction, you felt like it was a blessing to be the one to receive it.

Your muscles tensed as his fingers curled, brushing against the sweet spot he’d so easily found. He seemed to know you so well despite barely knowing you at all, and it was comforting just as much as it was confusing. You wanted to give in to him, to let your iron guard down for a moment to let him and see you as you truly were rather than what you tried to be, but you couldn’t. You could not trust a man that seemed so eager to please you, and one who did it so well. For a moment, you believed that he was the master of deception, and you had taken him for a fool when in reality, it was only you who could be branded as such. You wondered if you had been so sure of yourself that you believed he was falling for your lies, when in fact, you were playing into his game.

Whoevers game it was did not matter in the end, as no matter which way it went, the two of you were being played by each other in entirely different ways. He was trying to con the player into taking a chance on him, and you were trying to con the lover into submission so you could fuck his brother. It was a losing battle for the both of you, but try was the only thing you knew how to do.

“Are you going to cum for me, Angel?” He asked, his voice barely sounding over your desperation.

“Y-yes sir,” you gasped, the intensity of the pleasure making you want to force your legs shut just to get a moment of rest. You were certain that you were being louder than the music playing outside the door, but neither of you cared.

“You going to let everyone know how good I’m making you feel?” He asked, his eyes flickering towards the door for a moment, then back to you.

“God, yes.” You muttered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your forehead. The bathroom was unbearably warm as is, and with the added warmth of what he was doing to you, it was nearly suffocating. Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your heartbeat was deafening as it rang through your eardrums and the pit of your stomach felt like it was encased in flames. You were so close, and you needed it so bad. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could not formulate any further words. Instead, you did exactly as he said, muttering curses mixed with pornographic sounds that would ensure anyone lingering by the door would quickly make an exit.

Then, your vision began to blur as the orgasm threatened you further. The euphoria was coursing through your veins, throbbing under your skin and begging to take your life. With every movement he was pushing you closer to the edge, and he was drinking in every second of the moment. He watched as you expression twisted into pleasure, how your chest would rise and fall with every breath, how the muscles of your legs twitched every time he brought his thumb back over your clit. You were enchanting and he found it impossible not to watch.

You could feel yourself descending into something stronger than anything you’d ever felt. The whole world felt like it was spinning and your body felt light. It was within your grasp, and you were delirious enough to think that if you reached out, you could wrap your fingers around the billowing clouds of euphoria and draw them closer, to drown yourself in it. You moved your hips down on his hand, needing that little bit extra to get you there, and he had no issue giving it to you. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and you felt the need to stave off the urge just to make it last a little bit longer. Not long after that, you realized how ridiculous the idea was and began to give in to the temptation. It felt like it was consuming you, your skin white hot with desire and no sign of letting up.

And then it was gone.

Your eyes shot open, a fire dancing in your pupils as you looked down at him. He had drawn his hand away completely, a small smirk toying across his lips as he turned his gaze towards you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, clearly upset with no intent to hide it. The pleasure was still making your skin tingle, but it was dissipating faster with every second that passed until eventually, it turned into an empty sense of longing settled deep in the pit of your stomach. In any other circumstance, he would have chastised you for speaking so harshly, but he was enjoying your desperation and frustration too much to ask you to stop.

“I’m not that kind, sweetheart.” He reminded you, knowing that denying you an orgasm was a complex decision with many reasons as to why. He did not think you were deserving of one so soon, even if he craved to see you turn to a mess before him. More than that, he did not what you to cum from something as frivolous as his hands. “You really think you deserve it?”

No, you did not think you deserved it, but god did you want it. In your mind, want was equal to, if not more important than anything else.

“Jake, please.” You breathed, your cheeks stained red from embarrassment more than pleasure, now. Not often did you feel that you should beg for a man, yet for some reason, he made you feel as though you would die without him. There was some otherworldly power that he bestowed upon you after a single touch, and you were hooked on him for life. He was more powerful than any substance and more desirable than any other man. “I’ve been so good for you, baby. Please let me cum.” While you spoke, his mind seemed completely elsewhere.

As you begged, he paid no mind to your neediness and instead raised his index finger to his mouth, slowly slipping the digit between his lips and settling it on his tongue. He inhaled deeply as the taste of your arousal overwhelmed him, letting out a low groan that rattled his chest. Although it was muffled by his finger in his mouth, you heard it loud and clear. If it were possible, the simple action made you even more desperate for him, and you thought you might die if he made you wait any longer. When he withdrew his finger, a slight popping noise echoed through the air around the two you. When he looked up at you, his pupils had completely consumed his irises, blackened with lust for you.

“Taste so sweet, angel.” He muttered, his gaze flickering back to your cunt. “You have been good for me, haven’t you?” He smiled, but it was not the beautiful one you’d grown so accustomed to. This time, it was evil, and it shook you to the core.

“So good, sir.” You agreed, nodding your head slightly. You looked down at him with innocent eyes and a little smile, hoping that he would see reason. “Please let me cum, sir. I’ve been so good.” You said it again, with more conviction in your eyes in hopes of winning the battle. He let his fingers trail up your thigh, the light touch tickling your skin and sending another rush of arousal straight to your cunt.

“You sound so fucking pretty when beg for me.” He spoke lowly, but with plenty of power within his words. With that, his hands settled on your hips and he pulled you even closer to the edge of the counter. He drink to his knees before you, eyes focused intently on your cunt. He leaned forward, his mouth connecting with you without any further conversation, reveling the real reason why he’d gotten on his knees.

He flattened his tongue against you, slowly running it through your folds, getting another taste of the arousal that he was responsible for. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation for you and the opportunity to have you like such. You let out a shaky sigh, still leaning your head against the mirror to support yourself as he worked at you. He took it slow at first, wanting to savour every moment of the experience as he feared he may never get the chance again. You loosened your iron grip on the countertop, reaching down and tangling your fingers in the long locks of brown hair. It felt good around your fingers, just as soft and silky as you imagined it would be.

When he seemed satisfied with the teasing he was doing, he let his tongue settle over your clit, moving it slowly across the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched in your throat as a rush of pleasure flooded through you, reminding you of all he was capable of doing, even with the most miniscule of actions. He used one hand to guide your leg over his shoulder, running his fingers back up until he could grip your hip again. He repeated the action with the other leg, and once he felt you were secure, he pulled you down even further on him. When you grew comfortable with the changes, he brought his fingers back to you and wasted no time in resuming his earlier pace.

“Fuck, Jake.” You hissed, the feeling consuming your entire body once again. He’d pushed you so close to the edge that it wasn’t hard to get you back, and after only a few seconds of steady movement, you could feel the pressure begin to rise again. In response, he curled his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you, unable to forget the reaction that it prompted from you. You felt yourself clench around him, drawing his hand in further and deeper, intending to keep him there forever.

He took in a sharp breath, loving the way your body responded to his efforts. He thought you were the most enchanting thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he would happily die between your legs with his name knotted around your tongue. You were so caught up in bliss that you began to believe this was the best it would ever get; no man before Jake had ever made you feel so good, even if they tried ten times harder. Jake was what you had been looking for every night since moving to the city, and if you had been smart, you would have recognized that and took the leap of faith. You were too far gone, spiraling down your self-made rabbit hole, neglecting the idea that he could be more than just good sex in a dingy bar bathroom.

The truth was that you knew all of those things, and worse than that, you could feel it when you were with him, but you were too far gone to ever be able to introduce love to your cold heart. You wanted to love, to be loved, but you no longer had the capacity for such things. The fleeting feeling of an orgasm was powerful, and even if it did not leave you fulfilled for very long, it was preferable to the pain of heartbreak. He made you feel more than you ever had before, but that was what made you want to run. A man met at the bar with sly words and a pretty smile was never good news, and when you took note of the rest of his charming attributes, you knew he was even worse than bad. Jake had the ability to make you see him for more than sex, but he also had the ability to hurt you worse than anyone else.

Drawn by the first touch and stuck there after the second, he was the most devilish of all men; the difference between you and the razor sharp thorns that grew from your skin was that he did not have intent to use his for harm, but you were always looking for a reason to injure. You recognized his deadly beauty because you held the same one in your heart, and you had taken him as someone just like you, neglecting to consider that he was far from it. You did not have enough time or care to make an attempt to see differently, so you continued on with your same old treachery with intent to destroy anything good before it could ever happen.

With expert precision, he kept his fingers in time with his tongue. He could feel how close you were without you having to say a word. The rapid breathing and racing heartbeat, the blushed cheeks and the forehead gleaming with sweat, the eyes squeezed shut and your thighs tightening around his head. It was so powerful that he almost felt the same desperation in his heart, fearing that if he did not get you there you would succumb to the sickness of need. He wanted to talk you through it, to use words of praise instead of the cruel sentiments he had been giving you before. He wanted to be the only thing on your mind, to invade every thought and fibre of your being so you did not even have the opportunity to think of anything else. His work was driven by greed, and he was not ashamed to admit that he would do whatever he could to keep you coming back for more.

The thought of you flirting with his brother had long left his mind, replaced with filthy thoughts of all he could do to you. He knew that Josh did not have the same luxury, and he would be walking home alone without you, while he would spend the entire night entangling you within his soul. He was the only one of the two who was blessed with the privilege of having you, and he would wear the badge with honour until his very last minute on earth.

Once again, his overconfident attitude and foolish naïveté would seal his grave forevermore.

A particularly sharp moan forced him to break out of his thoughts, returning his focus back to you as he continued to push you closer to the edge. “Oh god, Jake.” You cried, feeling the threat of an orgasm creeping up on you once more. It was much stronger and more intense than the last, and your whole body felt ablaze with pleasure. Your heart felt like it would explode out of your chest, and your lungs would deflate. Your head was buzzing with anticipation, and your entire body was tense.

You wondered if it was possible to survive the fall after allowing him to carry you to such heights.

You did not have enough time to worry about death as the knot in your belly snapped under the pressure, unravelling as the feeling took over your entire body. Your thighs squeezed against his skull, locking him there indefinitely as your fingers grasped at the strands of his hair. If not for the counter beneath you and his hand holding you in place, you thought you might descend to hell from the sinful indulgence. You had never felt anything quite like it, as if your soul was being consumed by the irate pleasure that knew not when to stop. Your back arched off the counter, the feeling of his tongue still moving sent you into another wave of euphoria. His fingers inside of you were moving with a fervour, lingering around the sweet spot he’s taken to. It was so much that it was almost nothing at all; so powerful that it was the only thing you knew.

When you came down, you were delirious from the depths of the new world he’d introduced you to. You wondered if you would ever find something that could make you feel that way again, or if you would spend an entire lifetime chasing after a high that only existed when you were with him. Debate on the topic was non-essential, because when he rose from his knees and unbuckled his belt, it did not matter. In fact, nothing in the world mattered except for him.

Recovery was not a conscious choice, because he gave you no other option. Before you were even of sound mind, he’d freed himself from his boxers and resumed his position between your legs, only standing this time. Your orgasm was still glistening on his chin, and he wore it like a trophy as he casted a downward glance at you. Even in the lowlight, every one of his features still appeared so beautifully, as if all of the gods had a helping hand in the creation of him. “Was that what you wanted, angel?” He asked, his voice husky as he watched you with a whole new type of hunger in his eyes. “That’s what you waited all night for?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You stuttered, still gulping for air. Normally, you would feel strange being in such a state in front of anyone, especially when they were as calm as he was, but it did not bother you now. You were perfectly content being at his disposal, ready to give him anything and everything his heart desired.

“Are you ready for more, or you can’t take it?” He asked, reaching down and running a thumb over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a human reaction to a sweet gesture.

“I can take it, sir.” You promised, your eyes flickering away from his stare and down to his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight, fantasizing momentarily about what it would be like to taste him. You wanted him in every way possible, and any shame about the need was long gone the minute he began to touch you. Your focus was torn away from the beautiful imaginative world you’d thrown yourself into when he spit on his hand, stroking himself for a moment before stepping closer to you.

“You think you can keep being good for me?” He asked, running the tip of his cock through the wetness that remained on your cunt.

“Yes, sir.” You said, confident in your ability to take whatever he had to offer. He rested himself against your entrance, pushing his hips forward only slightly so just his tip rested inside of you.

“That’s my girl,” he said, the possessive claim settling deep in your spine and weighing you down like cement. It felt so good to be called his, even if you did not really want to be. His lips turned upwards into a smile, misleading you only slightly. Then, without warning, he brought one hand to the back of your head. The sudden movement did nothing but confuse you, but when he used his hand resting on your hip to pull you towards him, it appeared there was a method to his madness. Your back landed against the countertop with a loud thud, sending a tingle of pain radiating through your spine, but he used his hand to cushion your head as you fell, ensuring it would not slam against the counter as well.

The mix of pain from the fall and the pleasure from him finally being inside of you was conflicting, but addicting nonetheless. Your hips were off the counter completely now, and once he knew you were well and recovered from the shock, he moved his hand from your head. He loved the accessibility of the new position, and he was eager to begin. With both hands holding your hips steady, he felt comfortable enough to begin moving at a steady pace, but steady did not mean gentle, and your toes were already curling from the sensation as you locked your legs around him.

“Fuck!” You yelped, feeling the tip of his cock slam into the same spot his fingers had been tormenting just moments before. You were more sensitive than ever due to the earth shattering orgasm he’d just given you, and the feeling of him inside you was overwhelming.

“I thought you said you could take it, sweetheart?” He taunted, delivering another sharp thrust to the same area. Your legs quivered from the sensation and your throat was raw from the moans flowing steadily through it. You could not respond, the pleasurable pain was so intense that it was impossible to focus on anything else. He wondered for a moment if he was giving you more than you could handle, but the thought quickly vanished when he felt your legs tighten around him and pull him closer. It was enough of an answer for him, but you pulled yourself together enough to fight back.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, honey.” You smirked. “You call this fucking?” His eyes blazed red in an instant, as if your words turned him into an entirely different entity. Your desire to fight never fled, and his antagonism was just enough to bring it back out.

“You’re gonna be a little brat after I was so nice to you?” He said, drilling his hips into you even more harshly. The feeling seemed to take your breath away, but you tried your best to stand your ground. “Or do you want me to treat you like a whore?” He raised an eyebrow, somehow unphased by the speed in which his hips were moving. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck, yes.” You whined, arching your back against the countertop to meet the thrust of his hips. You knew you could not handle any more, but you needed it all the same. Everything about him was conflicting and it only ever made you want more.

“You like being a little slut for me, don’t you?” He pressed further, letting his hands wander down your legs.

“I love it, sir.” You corrected, feeling his fingers tighten around your ankles as he pulled your legs apart, keeping his touch gentle as he tortured you with his hips. He brought your legs up, straightening them before pushing them upwards and into your chest. He leaned forward, locking you into position and slipped an arm underneath you to support your weight.

“Show me how much you love it, sweetheart.” He ordered, his expression stern as he continued to fuck into you. His movements were causing your knees to push back into your chest, constricting you in the most intoxicating way. “I want you to cum again, on my cock this time.” The vulgarity of his words made your walls tighten around him, making the sensation even more intense. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” you whimpered, feeling the pressure rising again. He was pushing you to the limit just so he could watch you as he drove you to insanity. Every movement was amplified by a million with the new position, and that wasn’t even considering how your skin was still tingling with the ghost of your previous orgasm. If his intent was to send you mad, he was doing a damn good job.

“How’s this for fucking?” He growled, looking down at your face. You were so strung out on pleasure that you could barely keep your eyes open, but that was exactly what he was hoping for. “Is this good enough for you, angel?” The pet name was laced with distaste now, showing his anger for your snide comment. You realized as you caught his eye that there was a whole other side of Jake you had yet to discover, and one night would not be enough for you to know him as much as you would like. You had no idea how a man so ethereal could turn so animalistic in an instant, and it only confused you further when you realized you liked that side of him more, because only you could see it.

You were desperate for him to slow down; the climax was barreling towards you at the speed of light, and you could not keep up with it. At the same time, you knew that if he stopped, you would be on your knees in an instant to beg him for more. The very thing you needed to survive would ultimately be the thing that killed you, and your relationship with the man between your legs had been vile from the very beginning. It started on lies and deceit, and carried on after betrayal and mistrust. Nothing good could ever grow from something so rotten, yet the two of you joined together in a pivotal moment of your lives; you would never be the same again, and neither would he. Despite the evil that forced the two of you together, you knew you would not change it for the world.

You were broken from your thoughts when a sharp sting flashed across your cheek. He was expecting an answer, and he was not willing to go without one, so he did what he could to regain your attention. Your eyes shot open, focusing in on the face glaring down at you. His hand had moved back to hold your hip, as if he’d never struck you at all. It took you a moment to clue in to what he had done, because you were too busy trying to sear the sight of his face into your memory for the rest of time. His hair was sticking to his skin, his shirt hanging off his body as the buttons came undone from the constant movements. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were lucky to have him, even if you did feel regret for using him in such a way.

“Fucking answer me.” He hissed, wondering if he would need to slap you again to pry the words from your lips. Under your foundation, the skin had already began blotching with redness at the forceful contact, but you didn’t seem to care. If anything, you wondered what you could do to get him to do it again. “Is this good enough for you, or do you still need more?”

“It’s good, sir. It’s so fucking good.” You rushed the words out, knowing that if you did not answer, his next punishment might not be so enjoyable.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.” His chest was heaving, trying to keep up with his rapid pace. You could feel his movements getting sloppy, but he would not give up until he got one more orgasm out of you.

Your hips began to ache from the position they were in, so you made an attempt to straighten one of your legs out to wrap it around him again. He noticed your struggle, moving back slightly to allow you to do as you needed. Once your legs are locked in place around his waist once more, he held one hand to your hip to keep you steady and snaked his other hand up your body, settling his fingers around your neck. Your stomach fluttered at the new position, excited for him to continue on with his work.

“I need you to cum for me, angel.” He said, carefully settling his fingers over your pulse points, looking over your face for a shred of discomfort. When he found none, it seemed to send him into a whole new frenzy. The knowledge that you would let him do as he pleased with you was driving him to insanity, and he began to regret not bringing you to the bathroom sooner. You were a mess, your dress bunched up around your ribs now, and your tits still free from the top of it. Your mascara was running down your cheeks and your hair was a mess, but he thought you were just as stunning as you were when he first laid eyes on you. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” You choked out, feeling his fingers tightening around your neck. Your eyes closed as you willed yourself to give in to the feeling. The need for a release was unbearable, and your stomach was ablaze with the threat of another climax. As his fingers continued to tighten around your jugular, your head began to spin from the lack of blood flow. The pleasure already coursing through your veins seemed to increase tenfold, and there was no more holding back.

The orgasm tore through you with an intensity that made your whole body tremble. The world felt like it was crashing down around you and your lungs ached for a breath of air. You tried to speak his name, but even that failed you. Your legs trembled around him, exhausted from being held in such a position for so long. You wanted to close your eyes, to give in to the feeling and let it take over. You feared you might die from it, and it was such a peaceful feeling that you felt no need to fight it.

As your body relaxed about the counter, he released his hold on your neck. The sudden rush of air seemed to force you back into reality, and your head slowly stopped spinning. You felt Jake’s hips stutter as he uttered a few curses under his breath. You opened your eyes in just enough time to watch him pull out of you, quickly stepping towards you as he stroked himself a few times. You quickly jumped to action, reaching down and knocking his hand out of the way. It took him by surprise, but when your hand wrapped around him and continued with his previous movements, his head fell back in bliss. It was fast enough that it did not make him lose the momentum, and he was grateful for you taking the control. His eyes squeezed shut as he let out a low groan, spilling his release on to your stomach. You let out a ragged breath, looking down at the mess he’d made, his cock still throbbing in your hand as you worked himself through the last few seconds of his own orgasm.

A shiver ran down his spine as you withdrew your hand. He straightened up, heaving a heavy sigh as he looked down at you, soaking up the last few seconds of having you like that. You gave him a small smile in return, another shred of evil making its way into your brain. You slowly brought your hand to your stomach, making sure to maintain the eye contact. Meticulously, you brought your finger to the cum he’d decorated your stomach with, still warm and inviting. You saw his eyes shift down towards your hand, watching as you ran your finger through it, delicate and soft. When you felt as though he had a good enough of an idea for what you were about to do, you brought your finger to your mouth, parting your lips slightly as you pushed your finger to your tongue. You ran it across the pad of your forefinger, letting out a soft moan as you let your eyes flutter closed.

A soft sound emitted from his throat, close to a whine but a little too deep to be classified as such. You had pushed him over the edge, and if he could have gotten away with it, he would have fucked you again right then and there. Instead, he reached for the paper towel dispenser, ripping off a few sheets and cleaning off your stomach as best he could, despite wishing he could witness you do it all over again. He tossed the used paper in the trash after wiping himself off, then pulled his pants back up.

“Get up,” he said, buckling his belt and adjusting himself to conceal the hard-on that was reluctant to go away.

“What?”

“You can’t listen?” He snapped. “Get the fuck up.” He repeated, clearly still feeding off the sexual energy lingering in the air.

“W-why?” You stuttered, almost expecting him to return to normal after you finished. The brash nature of his voice took you by surprise, but you certainly didn’t mind.

“Because I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to fuck you again.” He explained, stepping forward and landing a soft hand on your thigh. “And again… and probably again after that, until you can’t fucking walk and the only thing you know how to say is my name.” A flood of arousal rushed through you, making your heart beat faster once again. Usually, you would laugh at such a claim, but you knew he was not bluffing in the slightest. With that, he leaned down and grabbed your thong from the ground, looking it over as he held it in his palm. You figured he would give it to you, so you extended your arm out to grab it, but he sent you a sly look through the corner of his eye. Instead of passing them to you, he slipped it in his pocket as a trophy for his night’s endeavour and turned to face you. “What are you waiting for, sweetheart?”

‘Nothing’ was the only proper answer, so you scrambled to your feet to straighten yourself out, already excited for the rest of the night. As you cleaned your makeup in the mirror, you glanced at him over your shoulder, wondering if you could handle all of the things he had in store for you. As you watched him watching you, your stomach fluttered with nervousness, and your heart began to swell with adoration. You could handle whatever he wanted to do for you, but you hoped you could handle it well enough to entertain his brother the night after.

No matter how good he was, nobody was ever good enough to subdue a player like you. You would get your way, just like you did every time, but this time was different; it came with a cost too high to justify. Then again, you lived for a thrill, and there was nothing you weren’t willing to gamble for just a taste of what you desired. As he led you out the front door of the bar with a lingering hand on your waist, you revelled in the bliss of his touch all while fantasizing about what it would feel like to be touched by Josh instead. It made you wonder just how far you could take it before it became too much.

As the two of you walked hand in hand, the vicious cycle continued, and soon enough, you knew that ultimately, a punishment would be due. In your purse, your phone had already been ravished by drunk texts from the brother you had yet to entertain, but could not wait to have for yourself. You knew better, but the idea of having the both of them was too good to pass up. Greed was a wicked motivator, and it was plaguing you. You could only hope that punishment in the eyes of the devil, and especially given by the twin brothers, would be enjoyable more than it would be painful.

TAGLIST: @gretavangroupie @wetkleenex-gvf @edgingthedarkness @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @writingcold @dannys-dream @ageofbajabule @GVFstuddedmajesty @mackalah @watchingover-hypegirl @earthgrlsreasy @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog @Lyndz2names @gretavanomens @josh-iamyour-mama @gretavangirlie @cxffeecakez @stardustjake @highway-tuna @peaceloveunitygvf @dancingcarbon @kiszkas-canvas @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @just-ambam @jakeyt @joshym @demonrat444 @pattypanini @itsafullmoon (if I accidentally missed someone, please let me know 🤍)

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

what do you think about ayda and her relationship with garthy? love the way you think about her

Ayda and Garthy fucking SHATTER my soul, i love them so much. i think they are both lost souls and that's why they're so beautiful. let me explain. (keep in mind i'm saying all these things in the context of pre-bad kid intervention)

Ayda is stuck between two worlds inherently: she is neither phoenix nor human, with just enough celestial to make her holy but enough of her father's blood to ensure she is not fully celestial. She is immortal, but her memory is not, and that reset ensures that she will never gain as much power as either of her parents, and thus might never be considered "good enough." She is an academic, but lives in a pirate city of chaos. She is an extremely powerful wizard but has no wizard friends, nor many friends at all.

Garthy is similarly stuck in the middle. Not only are they a half-orc, something inherently between, but they are also half Aasimar, the devils of the orc pantheon. While non-binary gender identities do not seem to be rare in the world of Spyre, in our world that tends to place people in the middle. I believe it is canon that they were considered a street urchin when they were younger, meaning that they were cast out or abandoned, furthering this lost nature.

I believe that Ayda took Garthy in because she saw them as another lost soul, someone who she related to, even if the nature of their in between-ness was different. Lost souls are not so lost if they are together.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hello!! I love your Carmy fics and (if you are still taking requests) I would love to see anything fluffy with him! Maybe like a late night up with him or literally anything!

This is completely different. It's giving more like first time meeting slash cute cuteness but I hope it's still something...

Chicago rain

Carmen wasn't a lady man. The anxiety that crippled him made any interaction awkward and robot-like at times. Hence why he practically always avoided any outing. Too many stimulations. Too little capacity in his brain to deal with it all.

But then you had walked into the Bear one day. The weather in Chicago was brutal. The wet spell was without doubt trying to drown the city at this point. Carmy was busy in the kitchen. It was past the breakfast rush but still a good chunk of time till the madness of lunchtime hit. So everything seemed slow. The pre-prep that was done last night allowed everyone to take a needed breather. Carmen heard voices from the front. Surprisingly Richie's voice didn't sound bitchy. A laughter echoed and the door to the kitchen quickly opened.

"I need one of our best sellers and someone to start a big cup of tea", Carmy frowned slightly, no one ordered tea here. "Cousin, do we have towels without holes in them?", Richie raked through the drawers, making a mess of a somewhat organized place. "Man put that back as it was, I'll grab one for the back", Carmen huffed as he walked towards his office. "Bring it out front", Richie called from behind him.

If only he had known. If only he had known that his heart was going to leap out of his chest the moment he brought that stupid tower out, he would have done a double take. Here you were, drenched to the last fiber of your skin. Shivering so hard Carmen could practically feel his own teeth aching from the friction. "Shit", he muttered under his breath, your big eyes darted up to meet him. You two stilled a bit yet your composure came back way quicker. "Sorry, I'll clean the floor, I know I left quite a...", but your rant was cut with Carmen stepping forward as he wrapped the towel around your shoulders. "Forget about it", he said, "It's nothing, Richie will take care of it".

Your cold fingers brushed over Carmen's warm hands and he practically let out a hiss at how cold you felt. His brain was working so fast that he didn't even realize it as he said, "Come over to the back. I have spare clothes you can change into". You looked back at him, shaking your head, "It's all okay, I'll grab a cup and will head out", you pointed to the absolute miserable weather outside. You both looked at it for a while before you huffed, "Yeah, I probably won't go out...", your voice died down. "Then, after you", Carmen gestured towards the kitchen and this time you didn't fight it.

You were pretty much drowning in Carmen's hoodie but the warmth of it was much appreciated. Carmen as you had learned along the way had prepared a full three-course meal. Pouring second of the soup. "My brother used to say that it warmed both the body and the soul", you smiled at that, especially when Carmen had sat to eat beside you. You watched him work after that. The rush of the kitchen. The shouting. The clacking of the pans. The smells. It all felt like a dance of some sort. A rhythm that was so easy to get lost in. You watched it till your eyes grew heavy and sleep pulled you in.

Carmen had felt your eyes on him all night. But oddly enough they didn't make him feel uneasy. Quite the opposite. He wanted to carry himself higher. Show off the place. The things he did best. By the time he pulled enough courage to look back at you, he had found you sleeping with your head resting on his office desk. Even in the midst of the chaos he had stepped out. Quickly whipping his damp hands before he took a proper look at you.

Never had Carmen seen a girl so pretty in his life. Rarely did any girl awaken any reaction in him. But there was something about you. Something that called out to him. Carmen gently ran his hand up and down your arm, making you flinch as you quickly sat up. Nearly falling over with the chair.

"God, sorry, fuck", you steadied yourself, Carmen's hand falling over your shoulders. He met your tired eyes, smiling softly, "Why don't you lay down", he nodded towards the little couch. It wasn't anything fancy, but it did the job. "No, I've caused too much trouble already", you muttered but Carmen shook his head. "Nap for a bit, we should close in a couple of hours. I'll drive you home then", he offered, getting drawn in by your eyes once more. You quickly tucked your hair behind your ear, "I will never repay you for all of this", you mumbled. Carmen shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling bold, "Have dinner with me sometime. If you want, of course... you can say no. I would understand and it's...", he ranted on. You reached to touch his hand and his movements stalled, "I'd like that", you muttered, feeling your cheeks growing crimson. Carmy only nodded before once again motioning you towards the sofa.

You followed his lead, tucking your legs towards your chest for more warmth. Carmen quickly looked around, reaching for his big blazer as he carefully draped it over your frame. You smiled up at him and he was quick to follow your lead especially when a yawn slipped past your lips. He watched you for a moment. Tucking the image of you deep into his brain before he slowly turned around, carefully closing the door behind him as the chaos of the kitchen sucked him right back into action. Yet the feeling of something good looming right behind these closed doors didn't leave him all evening long.

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Out of curiosity, what was your route for the 10/5 hour achievements? Did u get extra mask shards or abilities or charms? As someone who recently completed those, I’m really interested in how other ppl did it.

(Btw u can answer this publicly if u want)

This charm setup, plus 1 extra mask and 1 nail upgrade.

More under cut:

Run order:

Crossroads (False Knight, Gruz Mother, Sly, Salubra)

Greenpath (Hornet/Dash)

Fungal (Mantis Claw)

City (Soul Master/D.Dive, Broken Vessel/Wings, Dung Defender/Isma's Tear + detour to Kingdom's Edge for Quickslash + easy geo)

Stag to Dirtmouth, buy lantern

Peaks (Crystal Dash, D.Dark)

Fall to Resting Grounds, get Dreamnail

Stag to Dirtmouth, then Crossroads to Canyon (Monomon)

Canyon to Queen's Station to Fungal to Deepnest (Herrah)*

Stag from Distant Village to King's Station (Lurien)

Stag to Dirtmouth, then THK.

*Guides often told me to get to Deepnest through Queen's Gardens, but I ain't touching the Gardens with a ten foot pole. Screw those mantises.

Other points of interest:

Grabbed relics, geo and bought what I could along the way.

Dive was the only spell I upgraded; I did not get any upwards spells at all.

I already had the muscle memory to one-shot most of the bosses; I put in extra practice for the Watcher Knights in Godhome in a separate save.

Watched guides on YouTube for extra help. (A video on the different pre-attack movements of the Watcher Knights helped quite a lot.)

Benched often and kept track of the map on my phone so as to not get lost (still did, a couple of times...)

Getting all the movement skills before the Dreamers definitely helped.

Prioritized healing over dealing damage in bossfights.

Muting the game and playing calm music helped reduce anxiety lol

[nicki0kaye]

here we've got Pre-Empire, lower levels hive-rat Sasha Kallus and Good boy Junior Guard Captain Garazeb Orrelios for the @bahrynfestival prompt 'In Another Life'. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Now, I could be normal and say this is just a 'oh what if these two met before the Empire' thing but I'm far from normal and that's not JUST the story behind this pic. Yeah, they're meeting before the Empire, but there's also a bunch of other nonsense going on. Lemme explain;

Sasha Kallus hasn't felt like a person since inheriting his 'magic'. It's been a quirk of his family for generations, but lucky him, it seems he's been gifted a particularly 'bad' case. Instead of being able to influence the 'magic' in others, like his baba and older brother, Sasha is burdened with generating an overabundance of 'magic' in himself. It sizzles in his veins like a live wire, heightening everything, dialing up his senses, his reflexes, his strength, keeping his mind buzzing all the time, hyper-aware and overly sensitive. Without his brother Tuz there to bridle that magic, Sasha runs the risk of becoming something dangerous, of becoming so overwhelmed, he loses himself and lashes out in a way he can't take back. 

And he hates it. 

He knows he's scaring his family, that there's a 'good reason' Tuz keeps him on such a short 'leash', but Sasha resents it all the same. He wishes he could get rid of his stupid magic. He wishes he could run away and never look back. 

The family trait he knows as 'magic' is unheard of on Coruscant, and it's not quite the same as channeling the Force. Its two distinct flavors, however, are common and even revered on the planet Lasan as a gift of the Ashla. On Lasan, there are Watchers, who see with the Ashla's light, and their Guards, who shield the Watchers and aid them in honing their gifts. 

Junior Guard Captain Garazeb Orrelios is visiting Coruscant as part of his Queen's entourage. Personally, he finds the planet a disturbing, lightless place. Excluding the Jedi in their temple, it feels like no one here has been touched by the Ashla. He was told to expect as much, that there are no Watchers or Guards among humans, but still. It's freaky.  It makes this durasteel hive of a planet feel all the more dead inside. 

Perhaps it's because he's particularly freaked out that, when the faint spark of a Watcher's soul  suddenly appears several levels below them, he's the first to notice. Perhaps it's his disposition–his talent for meshing so well with any unbonded Watcher that might be in need of his aid–that keeps his awareness locked on this stranger, this lost soul. 

No, not lost, there is a Guard's presence keeping the Watcher stable, but. It's too fraught a union to be a healthy bond. The Watcher is in distress. 

Garazeb's duty is to all Watchers, even alien ones hidden in the depths of off-putting city-planets. He asks permission to pursue this stranger, to ensure personally that all is well. 

That's how Garazeb meets Sasha. 

Now, there's one last thing. On Lasan, it's understood that the Ashla has made every Watcher a Guard to compliment and complete them, and every Guard a Watcher, in turn. Bit of a soulmate thing. It's not guaranteed one will find their match, but it's likely and extremely obvious when it happens. Even for a talented Guard like Garazeb who seems to naturally compliment every Watcher he meets, the work of shielding his intended would be frictionless. 

Garazeb has been searching for his Watcher ever since he was small and learned one might be out there waiting on him. He had not expected to find a human, let alone one who considers his Ashla given Sight a curse, has no concept of a 'bonded pair', and has only known a Guard's influence as 'leash' to keep him to heel. 

There's no denying it, though. They meet, and even his superiors can tell the bond is special. Garazeb never, ever expected to forsake his home for the hellscape that is Coruscant, but for his Watcher? He might. Assuming Sasha will let him.

[olympic-paris]

story: A Giant in the Norwegian Forest

Norway, September 1989.

Nordic forests are not like Alpine forests. They are more compact, and they tend to have lakes or fjords close to them. Sorry to say, it’s difficult to get lost in a Swiss Forest. Although I enjoy walking the hills and mountains of my native Switzerland I had always hankered after a holiday in Sweden or Norway, where I could walk on organised trails and camp out in the wild and swim in a cold lake and warm up by myself at my own campfire and hopefully not meet another soul for a few days. I had decided to go to Norway. I had visited the Central Library in Geneva and found a great map which showed the varying degrees of difficulty of organised trail walks. I found a few that were categorized ‘very tough’ and also scenic and set off organising myself. I plotted my road journey from Geneva to Trondheim including the ferry from Denmark to Norway and a stop along the way.

I like the Norwegians. They are very organised and on arrival in Trondheim I was helped with a safe location to leave my car as I tramped along the hard trails carrying my camping equipment. It was early September, not yet cold and not too hot and I was really enjoying myself climbing the mountain trails following the really excellent detailed map I got from the local tourist board in the City.

On the third day I found a really beautiful spot at a lake above a fjord. I found that I could safely camp in a prepared spot for making fires safely and was delighted. I decided to stay there for three or four nights and relax and to explore the trails in the mountains. A bonus was that I seemed to be alone.

In front of my tent was a sort of crossroads of a lake with three other small peninsulas of land covered in pine forest and grassy verges, all jutting into the lake. I wondered if it was possible to swim across to the other sides of the lake. Amazingly there was large rack of pre-cut firewood available for making a fire. The Norwegians were really organised, and there was an area set aside for a natural toilet. I assumed that the lake could be used safely for bathing and for drinking water.

I was so content and relaxed and enjoying the sound of gentle waves lapping the shore half a dozen metres from me and the gentle breeze passing through the branches of the trees that I didn’t notice the footsteps approaching me until the person was almost passing in front of me. I almost fell back in shock and surprise as I called out. The walker was a tall blond, marvellously built and best of all, naked. He was just wearing his backpack. He stopped in front of me and said something to me in Norwegian. I speak a little Swedish and realised he was apologising for startling me. Frantically I was trying to think of what the Swedes say for it was all right and I couldn’t think of it, and I was stumbling with my words and I ended up talking in my native Italian and holding the palms in front of me in a gesture of peace.

He smiled and I noticed that he had an earing in each ear. He smiled back at me and looked me over and around at my small camp area. He started to talk to me again in Norwegian and stopped and asked my simply if I was “Italiano”. Most people in the world don’t realise that there are Swiss Italians like myself, and so I told him. To make sure he got it I said it in German, and he shook his head and then asked if I spoke English. There was some relief when I told him I did and explained my origins being also half English. “Ah Sveitsisk Italiensk”, he confirmed to himself.

I couldn’t help but notice his nudity. He was a fine figure of a man, looking as if he was in his late twenties or early thirties and most probably used to hard work and exercise. He was smooth and well-muscled, and the dick was on the small side, thin and about three inches flaccid,  with two clean looking balls. His legs were wonderful and he was tall, I’d guess at one metre eighty five.

He excused himself and asked if he could stop a few minutes, he was going to rest at this place anyhow. He slipped off his rucksack and lay it on the ground bending over his butt almost in my face. My mind racing imagining his sitting on my face. He made no mention of his nudity, I supposed it was a Norwegian way of life up in the hills and forests, you could dress any way you wanted.

I already had a billy-can of water simmering over the fireplace and I offered him some tea which he turned down. He had some purified water which he guzzled down. We chatted generally, and I liked him. When he smiled, he had wonderfully sexy dimples in his chin, and he also had a manly dimple in his chin. I also noticed that he had a great bull like neck and wonderful traps. I’d have loved for him to sleep with me so I could stay awake all night and fondle his body. The disappointment was his exceptionally small dick. You can’t have everything.

He told me that he was going to walk around to the closest of the peninsulas almost opposite to my location, and set up his base there. He planned on staying there for a few days. This was one of his favourite places in his country. I had chosen well. We swapped names and shook hands as he stood up. Mario and Odd. I remarked that his name was easy for me to remember. He stood above me by at least half a dozen centimetres, and I looked up into his startlingly blue eyes and must have been transfixed. He smiled again at me and picked up his backpack and I help it into place and almost spanked his bare butt as he walked away. He turned back at me slightly, waved and called out “Ciao” to me. I wondered if it was the only Italian word he knew and that “Ciao” was a simple “goodbye and see you again soon”, and that “Arriverdici” is a farewell.

I settled down and soon forgot Odd except his nudity. I decided that I’d be naked, and why not? It seemed to be an acceptable situation here in the Norwegian forest, and so I stripped off. It was a great freedom. A little later I saw Odd setting up his camp on the area he had indicated to me which was only four hundred metres away, and I could see that he was still naked.

It became dark very early at this latitude and I had lit my lantern to give me some light to read by. I had my short-wave radio switched on to listen to some music and the news. I suppose the noise of the radio muffled out other sounds from the lake and wood because the next thing is that I am startled by a voice calling out my name.

“Hey Mario, It’s me, Odd”.  In the darkness I couldn’t see anyone and then suddenly the big guy stepped into the light of my fire and lamp, towering above me as I sat on the ground. He was dripping wet and naked. I swore. “Fanculo!”, thinking I was going to be attacked.

“Hello my friend, I swim to come to see you”.

My head was a maelstrom of thoughts, of ‘how I was to protect myself’, to ‘did he really swim across the lake at night’, to ‘what did he really want’ and to ‘by god he’d be freezing and get him a towel’.

He reached down to me to offer his hand, and I held my hand out to him, and he gripped me hard, pulling me off my seat. “Oh, you are naked too”. He laughingly called out and he pulled me to his wet naked body. I didn’t have a moment to think about both our nudity and my earlier longing to be against that superb frame and his huge arms embracing me.

There was something I felt against my back as he held me and I thought it could be a weapon and panicked slightly pulling away from him, but he held me even tighter. I heard a sound like it was glass clinking against glass, and my thoughts turned to being cut by the stuff.

Still holding me tightly, much longer than was necessary, he told me that he had some Norwegian schnapps and wanted to share it with me. “I don’t like drinking alone”, he said, letting go of me and showing me the bottle and two small shot glasses. They had been wrapped in two plastic bags. “Come let’s celebrate a new friendship”. It was more an order than a request. My first thought was to humour him and direct his train of thought away from any murderous activities. “Let me get you a towel to dry yourself first”. He brushed away any idea of that. The fire will dry me. Get more logs from the pile, we’ll be drinking for a while.

I was then thinking how he would get back to his camp if, as it sounded, he would be drunk. Would I have the lack of conscience to let him swim back drunk and in the dark. I fetched a couple of armfuls of logs to humour Odd and he had two shots already poured out. As I put down the logs I saw that he was looking over my body. I was nowhere near as built as he was; he was a stud compared to me, but had nothing to be ashamed of, though although slighter in height and muscle, I had one advantage, my dick hung larger than his. He had a smile on his face as he handed me a shot.

“How is it you say the cheers in Italian”?

I told him “Salute”. He recognised it. In Norway we say “Jubel”.

We clinked glasses and he knocked back his shot in one go. I sipped at mine, tasting the flavour. It was very neutral but strong. Odd laughed. “Go on wash it all back in one go”. He boomed at me. I took in a deep breath and knocked the liquor right back as recommended. I coughed deeply at the shock and again he laughed and slapped my back hard, making me cough more. This made the big man laugh more, and he hugged me tightly. This time, I was less concerned by his body against mine and I felt his small dick against my larger flaccid dick, and I was a little turned on by the sensation.

“Come, let’s make a larger fire and make our naked bodies warmer”.  He was much better at organising the fire than I was and soon the burning was more intense and the heat much hotter.

Odd announced that we should celebrate the fire we had “made together”. Two more shots were poured from the bottle. “Salute” he called out to me trying to make me remember the Norwegian he had told me a few minutes earlier. The linguist in me helped me remember easily “Jubel”, I replied. The shots disappeared quickly, and I was pulled down to sit next to him at the fireside, his arm around my shoulders forcing our bodies together. Now my mind relaxed somewhat and I was no longer in fear of my life but wondering if the guy was gay or how he’d react if he’d known I was gay.

He was talking about how he liked companionship but enjoyed being alone in the mountains, lakes and forests, especially in the far north in the middle of winter and trying to survive.

I asked if he’d be naked in the winter. After much laughter, I was assured not, but he always welcomed the summer when he could be nude and free. Didn’t I?

I told him it wasn’t so. Another shot of the snapps was poured and after the exchange of greetings the alcohol was knocked back in one go. Odd wiped his lips with a big, muscled forearm and he replaced the arm around my back. Again, there was a huge smile, lit up by the fire showing off his dimples and almost making my dick start to swell. “Tusen Tak” he said to me. “Do you know what that means”? My limited Swedish helped me.

“Thousand Thanks”. I told him. The huge arm squeezed me harder. His other arm lay down the glass to one side and he scratched his crutch, before placing a couple of more logs on the fire and looking over the blaze and announcing it was good. “Mario, you are good with language”. I thanked his compliment. “Do you have many friends”?

I had to gauge what he meant by friends. I did. Many of them work colleagues but I had no one really close as in a sexual way, although I had many sex friends. Who didn’t?

We chatted for a while about the value of friends without being gender specific and Odd poured out more shots of the booze. He was getting more and more tired, and my mind was well aware that there was no way he was going to swim back to his camp. I now knew that he was going to sleep in my tent and that it would most probably be a tight squeeze. His arm was still around my back and as we drank more, I was getting more and more used to it and as he became tipsier, I began to consider what could happen.

He made to pour another couple of shots, and I stopped him from making one from me, so he raised his glass to me and swallowed the lot whole.

In spite of the booze and the closeness of his body and the heat of the fire, I was now feeling cold and told him so. I suggested that I needed to get some warmth in my tent, and he nodded agreement. I hung up a battery powered lantern in the tent and spread out my sleeping bag. Odd staggered into the tent with me lay down with his hands behind his head taking up much of the room at that end of the tent. I had an air-blown pillow which gave me some comfort and I made as much use of it as I could.

I set the lantern to low power giving just enough light to see around the cramped tent and I could make out his big body easily. He seemed to fall asleep very quickly. I, on the other hand was transfixed by his nudity and really desired to explore his body. I hadn’t given him any hint of interest when we sat on the ground by the fire drinking and chatting with his arm around my back holding me. Maybe my lack of resistance had given him some sort of confidence, I honestly didn’t know. I lay down next to him, trying to make myself comfortable but I just couldn’t rest. I had to sit up and look at his body lying flat on top of the sleeping bag and adjusted my eyes to the light from the lantern to look over his body.

I noticed that his dick was moving and growing, and I looked to his face. It was immobile. I looked back at his dick again and it certainly had grown much more that the small dick I had seen earlier during the daylight. Again, I checked his face. His eyes were closed giving me the confidence that he was asleep.

God I wanted to really touch that hot body. I moved my hands above his huge chest leaving a couple of millimetres of space without actually touching. He had embraced me when he saw me naked after his nocturnal swim from his camp, and we had touched flaccid cocks. Now I wanted to hold that growing cock in my hands, and my god, was that cock growing and getting thicker.

When I saw his cock earlier it was about eight centimetres long soft, and not very thick, but now; now it was double the length and much, much thicker. As I watched it grow, my own cock was getting really hard and my desire to hold his dick was increasing by the second. Once again, I checked his face and he was motionless, his eyes closed.

I moved my hand over his abs, only just not touching them and sliding away from his cock which was now growing up to his belly button. Damn this stud was a grower for sure.

It didn’t cross my mind that he was conscious. I saw his foreskin peel back over the head of his dick and I couldn’t resist any more. I had to hold this guy’s dick.

Ever so gently I touched the shaft with a couple of fingers to see if there was any reaction from him. There was none, and so I chanced slipping my fingers under the still expanding muscle and flesh and softly wrapped my fingers around the shaft. The cock throbbed slightly, and I looked at his face yet again. He was immobile. I increased my grip even more, my heart thumping in excitement and half terror. This guy was so built that he easily could do me damage.

His breathing was easy and unchanging, and I started to wank his shaft pulling the foreskin right back over the cockhead. I could smell his manliness and my desire to suck on that huge dick was insatiable.

Slowly, ever so slowly I adjusted myself to be closer to his cock so I could suck on it trying not to disturb or wake him up. I lifted up the giant organ closer to my mouth and put out my tongue tentatively just touching the tip. I couldn’t see too much, the light was so dim but, I tasted a slight saltiness on my tongue. He still didn’t move. My heart was thumping madly, almost fit to burst.

The cock in my hand was now solid and a total transformation of what I had seen soft earlier. He was at least twenty-two centimetres and very thick. It was a dick worthy of his muscled build. This was a real full man. I wished that I could see just how huge he was but didn’t dare move to brighten the lantern in the tent.

His cock throbbed again in my hand, maybe in response to my breathing against the head. I made up my mind that I was going to worship that dick and take my chances that I was not going to wake up this giant, in all aspects, and get thumped, and wetted my tongue in my mouth and licked the under side of the head.

Oh, the taste was sensational and the aroma from the cock was a massive turn on. My dick throbbed in the air in excitement. There was still no reaction from him. I licked again and again and finally open up my jaw to take in all of the gigantic head. The feel of the ridge from his cock to the shaft was wonderful, and I was so taken by the size of it in my mouth, that I rubbed my tongue right around the head. My cock was jumping in the air.

With the head of his massiveness in my mouth I glanced up at his face and there was still no movement and he looked so sexy in the dim light with his huge muscled arms behind his head.

My hand was still gripping his shaft tightly and as I licked, I could feel the throbbing of the muscle I was holding. I ventured some more, releasing my grip slightly and moving lower down the shaft to enable me to suck the cock deeper.

Again, I shifted my position very warily and gently. I still didn’t want to disturb his slumbers, but this time I must have done.

This time I felt his hand on my head pushing my face further down on his cock which now was not the tiny flaccid being I had seen so easily that afternoon.

I didn’t know whether to be happy or scared out of my wits. This was a seriously built man with a cock that was a Jack-in-the-Beanstalk beast. He had an oak tree of a cock and was larger as I was he was even thicker. I couldn’t put my thumb and middle finger around the shaft.

I was loving the scent and taste of his meat, and my jaw was having a serious job opening enough to accommodate him. There was a rumble of appreciation as I tried to take more in my mouth.

“Yes Swiss man, take as much as you can”, he growled. “Do me good and I’ll return the favour”. I hoped that was a promise. I had thought that afternoon of doing more than a mutual blow job with the Norwegian stud. Watching that hard muscled backside walk away from me that afternoon had me dreaming of getting my face between the cleft and opening it up to prepare him for a good fucking. Well it was a great fantasy. Who hasn’t thought of fucking a big muscled giant of a man?

I wanted to see more of him now he was awake and so I dropped his dick from my oral and manual grip and reached up to switch the lantern brighter. I looked back down on him and he had a grip of his extra-large cock and was stroking himself. Lying on the tent floor with one hand still behind his head he looked stunning. Now I could see just how big he really was and the detail of his cock. It was almost translucent, the way some very blond and fair skinned guys can be. Plenty of tiny blue blood veins just under the skin, with some thicker raised veins along the top of the penis, and underneath a very thick and very wide piss tube.

My dick throbbed in the air as I admired his whole body but also his rampant huge dick. “Let me see what you have Swiss man”. I swung around to face him kneeling by his chest my cock and balls totally hard and exposed to him hard for the first time. He approved. “Yes I thought you were a big man”. He dropped his cock and reached and held my balls gently. Although I had gained a lot of confidence with him, I still had some fear of the huge man and gasped in some fear as he held them. “I like them”, he told me, “I hope they have a lot of man milk in there”. He let go and took a grip of my cock, squeezing the shaft hard as if testing the firmness of an apple before deciding whether to buy it at the market. I could see his eyes approved of what I had, and suddenly I was desperate to kiss him.

“Dio Mio”, I whispered to myself, “Tale mascolinità e così desiderabile”. So desirable and so masculine. He removed his arm from behind his head and held both his arms out to wards me and I fell on top of him across his chest and he held me to him tightly I tried to lift my chest up so I could look at his face and try to see if he would take that kiss I so wanted to have. Instead he jerked me on top of him and our hard dicks rubbed against each other and he held my head against his shoulder.

“You excite me Swiss man”, he told me as a huge hand swept gently down my spine to my backside. “Hmmm you have very hard butt”. I was delighted for his approval and was now wondering if I was going to be the recipient of his massive cock now throbbing against my own. I made a deal with myself. If he was going to fuck me then there was going to have to be an awful lot of foreplay beforehand. I could always feign tiredness if I thought he was going to be too rough for me, though he could force himself on me if I did.

I was on top of him and was able to force myself further up his body so we were face to face. Oh he was so handsome, I could, as they say melt into his eyes. Then he surprised me and quickly lifted his head to mine and gave me a quick kiss on my lips. “Is that all”? I complained. “Can’t you do better than that”?

He gave a grunt. Hummf; and again he raised his face to mine this time slowly and opened his mouth for a full blown tongue lashing, saliva exchanging deep kiss, letting go of my buttocks and holding my head keeping me in place as we showed just how passionate we were for each other. “Was that better Mr Swiss”? he enquired jokingly, his face smirking sexily at me and his eyes twinkling in the lanterns light.

I sniffed dismissively. “Not too sure; I’ll have to check again”. He said something I didn’t understand and we clashed mouths and tongues once again. This time it was even better and I felt him tweaking a nipple which enhanced the sensation even more.

“Are you sure now”? I thought quickly. “Maybe two out of three but with you on top this time”? He was fast. In a flash he was kneeling over my crutch his head above me and his enormous frame pumped up huge, and he was heading down to my head again. This time I was able to hold his head, my hands in his fine blond hair and we kissed

With our eyes open, we cemented Swiss-Norwegian relations for ever with our kiss. This time I attacked his nipples, both of them really hard, pinching, pulling and twisting them, Down below I felt his cock swell and grow against me. This could be fun.

Now with Odd above me, I had a couple of advantages. I pushed his head down to my nipples for him to suck, lick and chew on and I had the opportunity to play with his backside, which was just as hard as the rest of his body. There was absolutely no resistance as I started to finger around the outside of his hole enjoying the raised edge of his anus. Odd actually moved up closer to me so it was easier for me to get inside his sphincter and push in my fingers some more.

After a few seconds of fingering I could feel his dick leaking with excitement. I’m sure I was leaking. I was now certain that this giant of a Norseman was going to let me fuck him.

He gave out a growl of some Norwegian, which I assumed was of pleasure and sat up away from me. “I want to eat and lick you. Taste you”. I wondered if this was some sort of live Norwegian cannibalism I’d not heard of before, but suddenly he was above me and then down on his knees, with my legs being held in the air by his huge hands as he was eating out my butt hole.

Man was he ever so good; he was gentle and tender licking away, sending fantastic sensations up my hole and through my back to my brain which was ready to explode both at the thought of the man mountain rimming me and the practical effects of his licking.

I wanted to grab hold of his huge dick but Odd was so big that I couldn’t reach it from my position. I moaned in joy and frustration; joy of what I was receiving and frustration that I couldn’t grab hold of his dick. He moved upwards to my balls gently taking each into his mouth and swirling them around with his tongue and then licking my over excited shaft and then, with glee in his Nordic eyes swallowing my cock to the root in one go.

He slowly released my cock from his throat tightening his lips around my shaft very hard and just before freeing it, Odd run his tongue all over the head, exciting me to release a huge load of lube. One he had let go of my dick with a plopping sound from his mouth he called out, “Baaaaah! That was VERY tasty. I need more”.

I wanted more too. I wanted to be sucking his giant’s dick and to be eating his arsehole, But it was cramped in the tent and difficult to manoeuvre around, but somehow we got there, and I ended lying on my side with Odd lying opposite to me, ready for a sixty-nine.

It became a competition as to who was the better sucker and rimmer. It was blissful to have his huge dick in my mouth and to worship it. The more I sucked and licked, the better he responded with his mouth. More than once I had to stop him as I was so close to shooting and when we started rimming each other in a rim sixty-nine, I felt so close to shooting my load.

We must have been sucking and licking for ages. Odd complained that he felt cold. The fire outside had died down. He left the tent for a couple of minutes and had the fire blazing once again. He re-entered the tent, his cock swinging tantalisingly with a huge grin on his handsome face. “They teach us well in the Norwegian Army how to build good fires huh”? Something more for me to take note of this big man.

He cuddled up to me holding me tight. “Mario, do you have the condom’s with you”. I had but they were in my rucksack somewhere. I always carried a few with me, just in case. It was just that this night I wasn’t expecting to fuck or be fucked. I told Odd so. He grinned once again. “No matter. We can do again tomorrow and fuck all day. It will be better because we can see the excitement in each other’s faces”. I laughed out loud; not out of pleasure of the thought of fucking all day and seeing each other but at his pronunciation of faces which sounded like ‘faeces’.

“You will come to stay at my camp tomorrow, Mario and we can make a good time together here in the forest and the lake. I can fish, and cook with the wild fruits here and we can be naked and fuck all day, you like that”? I did and told him so and he was delighted. “We make each other comfortable”, he predicted. He embraced me and lay down on his back and put me to his side pulling my arm over his massive chest and his arm around my back holding me to him. There was contentment between us both and soon he was sleeping and so was I. All thoughts of sex and shooting that night had gone.

by The Interpreter

~~

~~

[satoshi-mochida]

ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist launches January 22, 2025 - Gematsu

Dark 2D Metroidvania RPG ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist will leave Early Access and launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Steam on January 22, 2025, publisher Binary Haze Interactive and developers Live Wire and Adglobe announced. Pre-orders for physical editions will begin soon in Japan, with information on physical editions for other regions to be announced at a later date.

ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist first launched for PC via Steam on March 25.

Here is an overview of the game, via Binary Haze Interactive:

About

Venture through a dark 2D Metroidvania RPG that takes place in a dying world where sorrowful artificial life forms called homunculi run rampant. As hybrid beings turn on humanity, cleanse corruption from their weary souls and uncover the source of their oppression in a journey of salvation for both man and machine. Taking place decades after “The Rain of Death” in ENDER LILIES: Quietus of the Knights, which sold over 1.5 million copies worldwide, ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist promises 35 hours of content coming to 1.0 with all-new bosses to purify, fresh abilities to combine for custom playstyles, and mysterious biomes to explore. Each boss defeated joins Lilac‘s cause, adding ten abilities (each with three alt-fires), totaling 30 new abilities to Lilac’s repertoire. Equip up to four abilities at once to create a custom fighting style with a mixture of short-range attacks, long-range projectiles, lock-on auto-attacks, and much more. Explore a vast open world full of relics offering insight into ENDER MAGNOLIA‘s rich lore and access previously unreachable areas as Lilac’s skills increase over time. Gather gold and machine parts, then exchange them for items and upgrades at the Blacksmith’s storefront. Locate Lilac’s lost memories and piece together the tragic story of the fall of the Land of Fumes. International indie band Mili returns to the series to compose the melancholy yet whimsical soundtrack for ENDER MAGNOLIA‘s setting.

Story

Set in the Land of Fumes, this prosperous magical superpower is home to vast quantities of magical resources lurking underneath the surface. In hopes of advancing their kingdom’s development, artificial life forms known as Homunculi came into being. Regrettably, toxic Fumes from the underground drove the Homunculi to madness, turning them into feral monsters. Lilac, an “Attuner” possessing the power to save the Homunculi, finds herself in a laboratory deep underground. Become acquainted with the Homunculi who have been closely involved in the kingdom’s downfall. Set out in search of both Lilac’s lost memories and precious friends in the Land of Fumes on a journey of destruction and rebirth in a hand-drawn, post-apocalyptic world.

Scenario

ENDER MAGNOLIA is a dark fantasy 2D side-scrolling action RPG where you venture through the desolate Land of Fumes trying to save both humans and Homunculi. At the forefront of magical and mechanical development, the kingdom comprises a hierarchical societal structure. Here, you’ll come across abandoned cities, and discover laboratories oozing with heinous mysteries, a grand Sorcerer’s Academy, colossal factories, and much more. The hauntingly beautiful yet gruesome world of ENDER MAGNOLIA will unfold before you. Journey with Homunculi and help those who have lost their minds to the Fumes. Fight fearsome, powerful enemies, purify their souls, and rally your companions. Who will you save at the end of your quest—humans or Homunculi?

Watch a new trailer below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

Version 1.0 Release Date Trailer

[sona-nona]

I was bored and somehow or another an idea came to me... What if Wendy wasn't the only one caught up in the show?

Well, I made this: (She doesn't have wings on purpose, it's not a mistake)

A variant of Millie Lost Soul, to be honest I just wanted to see Millie with a Mulan or Merida vibes.

The story is simple:

(This is not canon within my WH universe or Bug's universe)

After Wendy had been missing for months in the neighborhood, Wally said she was on a trip to the big city, Wendy came back saying that she must "free" the rest from the torture of "HER" (the curse of the neighborhood) And I do a kind of purge where she left only Millie alive, as she was just as trapped in that false world of puppets and colors.

Millie, like Wendy, ended up being a Lost Soul (her human body had already died because she was trapped almost the same time as Wendy, since the 70's) But instead of Wendy, Millie really loved that neighborhood and those who lived there and more Wally, Wendy's supposed older brother, so now she tries to find answers and some kind of closure for herself regardless if the path has to lead to violence, which turns out to be used a lot because Wendy is not very soft.

Now for a few little facts that make Millie more god:

-Unlike Wendy, who had a mentor named Sangoo who helped her a lot in her sword training, Millie had to learn on her own how to use her fans.

-She can switch between puppet form and his pre-death form, the human one, I haven't designed him yet. (I'm not good at human designs-)

-Her hood is like that of Harry Potter, she becomes invisible if she puts it all the way on. (Makes Wendy harder to fight her)

-She is around 1,48 meters tall, two centimeters smaller than Wendy, while in the human she is taller than Wendy by 5 centimeters, 1,67 meters.

-This is more a headcannon of mine, your relationship is pretty much like the following representation I made:

(I DID ALL THIS OUT OF BOREDOM, I DOUBT TO UPLOAD MORE CONTENT FROM THIS AU BECAUSE THIS UNIVERSE IS NOT MINE AND NEITHER IS THE CHARACTER)

Millie Valentine by @artsybug0

Lost Soul universe by @g4t0-p4n (

(I don't know why I can't tag them)