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harmonysanreads · 3 months

Note

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

lovely illustration based on this fic by a lovely person <3 (spoiler alert!)

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomachs of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #arlecchino #the knave #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #navxry

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tatumrileyslover · 11 months

Note

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #you Jenna Ortega hoes gonna love this #for the Jenna gals

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princessanonymous · 5 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

15. 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮

Time took its course. Days turned into weeks and those turned into months. (Y/n)'s outbursts became few and far between and Dorian liked to think their relationship was growing closer. She retreated less from him and talked to him more often. She was progressively starting to act more comfortably, like the little bright girl he had met in that forest all these months ago.

Dorian thought fondly of the little moments they spent together. Her nightmares were becoming less frequent, but every time she had one, the girl came to him for comfort. They played chess and, while the vampire was still winning against the girl, she was a fast learner and was getting better at it.

(Y/n)'s etiquette was something he was very proud of. They had gone to two other balls and the girl had behaved impeccably. Dorian had received a lot of comments about how the child acted the part of a future vampire very well; that she was a good fit to be amongst their elite society. He relished at those compliments, a proudness only a parent could feel growing in him.

Additionally, he grew more cautious, understanding he had underestimated her wits. He had ensured that she had less contact with the servant. The unfortunate events on that night could not repeat themselves. He wouldn't allow it. The vampire was however positive that they were unlikely to repeat themselves as he had had an enlightening conversation with the child. One that hopefully crushed these foolish ideas out of her head.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

"I am so relieved you have given up on the silly idea of leaving, doll," Dorian had told her one night as they were both spending time together in the living room.

(Y/n) looked up, but didn't say anything. The vampire, nonchalantly engrossed in the pages of his book, continued his discourse with an air of detached sophistication. "Considering your circumstances, it's not as though you possess anything to return to," he declared, a smirk playing upon his lips, casting a shadow of cruelty. One that was necessary to educate her; she wouldn’t learn otherwise. "You have nothing to go back to. What would you do on your own ?"

She averted her eyes uncomfortably, her shoulders responding with a subtle shrug. "I don't know," she admitted in a soft whisper, her uncertainty palpable.

A chuckle escaped Dorian's lips. "Nothing," he corrected with a pointed emphasis. "But, I am here, which is why there is nothing good in leaving."

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

(Y/n) knew it. The child knew leaving would be fruitless and foolish. Dorian found comfort in the knowledge that she relied on him, the assurance of her presence intertwining with his sense of control over the situation. She had to understand who was the caretaker here.

Despite the apparent tranquility of their coexistence, the veneer of familial harmony in the household couldn't fully mask the palpable void that lingered within. It was as if an essential piece of their collective puzzle was conspicuously absent, leaving Dorian with an unshakable sense of incompleteness. As the days unfolded and (Y/n) became increasingly amenable to the idea of establishing connections, Dorian seized upon the opportune moment that presented itself. A subtle shift in the familial dynamic paved the way for him to contemplate the reintroduction of that elusive missing piece into their lives. He had been away long enough by now. 72 years of slumber must have taught him a lesson.

"(Y/n), dear," called out the vampire as he entered the library. He had recently bought books for the girl to read and she was spending more time in their library.

She looked up from her armchair, curiosity etched across her features. "Yes?" she inquired.

"Come with me, starshine. I have something to show you," he announced with an air of gleeful anticipation.

She straightened, tension briefly evident in the set of her shoulders, yet she followed him nonetheless, her steps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. As they approached the basement door, she edged closer to him, her unease palpable, and she hesitated for a moment, the uncertainty etched across her face. She shook her head.

"I didn't do anything," she promised with a brittle voice, her words hanging in the air like delicate glass on the verge of shattering. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. Despite the conviction in her voice, there was a vulnerability that betrayed the turmoil within.

He gave her an understanding look, his eyes softening with empathy, acknowledging her discomfort with this place. He recognized that her fear stemmed from the anticipation of potential punishment. After all, the first time she had been allowed in that basement was to be reprimanded. However, he sought to convey that this time would be different.

"I know, dear," he reassured, his comforting touch guiding her forward. "Trust me, I merely want you to meet someone."

She trembled, a palpable shiver coursing through her frame, yet his firm grip on her trembling hand compelled her to follow him nonetheless, even if it was against her wishes. Her steps were hesitant, but they arrived at the room at the back of the corridor and Dorian used the key to unlock the door.

He turned to his child and passed a hand through her hair tenderly. "Wait here for me until I tell you to enter, starshine," he instructed. He smiled when she nodded dutifully. Dorian opened the door and closed it behind him.

The room, untouched since his last visit, held Killian in a state of slumber. Dorian approached him, placing a hand on the lifeless figure's chest. With a sigh, he declared, "I believe we are ready."

He withdrew the wooden stake, an artifact designed to neutralize their kind, and the body, once inert, sprang back to life. The vampire, now released from the temporary paralysis, slowly rose. He gasped out for breath, the sound echoing in the cold silence of the tomb as he stood up from the casket.

He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the muted light, and a sense of disorientation lingered. It however disappeared mere instants later when Killian's eyes shot on Dorian as he put his hands on his chest where the wound that had disappeared by now had been. Sensing an opportunity, the dark-haired vampire seized the moment. With a swift and fluid motion, he retrieved the wooden stake discarded in the earlier struggle. The blond vampire realized the imminent threat. He could feel the energy coursing through the blessed weapon, a reminder of the danger it posed. Fortunately, he sidestepped it with ease as the other had been weakened by the stasis he had been put in.

As the recently awakened vampire raised the stake for a second strike, determination etched on his features, Dorian managed to summon a surge of strength. In a swift and calculated move, he intercepted the descending weapon, his hand closing around it just inches away from his own chest. He found himself cornered against the cold wall, his back pressed against the ancient stones. The impact sent a shiver through his undead form, but the immediate danger was averted.

"Welcome back, darling," Dorian greeted, his voice a mixture of defiance and wry amusement, still struggling against the wooden stake the other was pushing dangerously close to his chest.

"Dorian," the other responded, his tone dripping with a dark edge. "You stabbed me."

He glared at the remark, his previous smiling exterior disappearing in mere seconds. "You wanted to leave," he snapped back to justify himself. "I had to do something to make you understand."

"I will leave," Killian declared adamantly. The dark-haired vampire, unmoved by Dorian's explanation, maintained his grip on the stake, the tip hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. "I will leave, and you will not stop—"

"We have a daughter," Dorian interjected hastily, his words slicing through the tension like a sudden gust of wind.

Instantly, the other paused at the words uttered. Seizing the moment, Dorian acted with agility. The pause granted him the opportunity to disarm his adversary effortlessly. With a swift and calculated move, he deftly knocked the stake from Killian's grasp, sending it clattering across the stone floor.

"What are you on about?" The other asked with narrowed eyes, the fiery being temporarily quelled. Killian, known for his aggression, typically combined actions and words seamlessly.

There existed an unspoken agreement between the two, a delicate balance ensuring that their clashes never escalated to true harm. Dorian had, however, shattered this agreement the day he pierced his lover's chest with the blessed stake—a memory he preferred not to dwell upon. Despite such incidents, a mutual understanding persisted: they wouldn't inflict genuine harm on each other. And while the memory of the quarrel leading to Dorian’s slumber often hung wavy on his mind, he justified his action; Killian hadn’t been genuinely hurt. That had all been temporary; Dorian hadn’t done anything wrong.

"A child. I brought in a child," the blonde reiterated, approaching his partner. Clasping both hands, he offered a smile. "Our child."

Killian's face remained closed off, his stare unyielding. "If she is anything like you, I do not wish to see this girl," he sneered coldly. "I will not raise a child with you."

He looked away for a second dissimulating the hurt he felt at that. "At least, let me introduce the both of you." Before the other could respond, he opened the door and let (Y/n) in. "This is (Y/n)," he introduced. "Doll, this is your—"

"Killian Ambrose-Hart," he introduced sharply, his eyes shining a bright red as his gaze focused on the girl. "She's human."

Dorian stepped between the two, placing an arm on his child's shoulder. With Killian having not fed for decades, the vampire was uncertain of what he might do in his current state of hunger. Who knew what he could do to the human with the hunger he must feel right now.

"She will be turned following her twelfth birthday," he declared with unwavering conviction.

Killian, outraged, furrowed his brow. "On her—you won't," he insisted, pointing accusingly.

He had known Killian wouldn't have liked that. There was a reason why children couldn't be turned before they turned twelve, after all. Following the turning, the body completely stopped aging. It was the same for the person's mind. Children turned before their twelfth birthday were called immortal children. They could not grow physically and neither could they age mentally. The immortal child would therefore lack the self control of an older vampire and become a creature only driven by hunger ; a danger for their world. A liability that was meant to be put down. Turning a child was therefore not allowed and punished by other vampires.

"I can and will," he retorted. "She will be old enough by that point and—"

(Y/n) would be turned after she reached twelve years old. At twelve, it was deemed that individuals had generally developed sufficient self-control. Though turning someone so young was rare, it was permissible. Some at that age were still too uncontrollable, but Dorian was sure it wouldn’t be the case for his fledgling. And even if it was, he wouldn’t care; the mere idea of a member of their vampiric society touching even a single strand of hair on her head would unleash the formidable force of Dorian.

"You cannot curse her to such an existence," Killian tried to reason with him. "What will we do with an uncontrollable beast?"

Dorian would have been happy at the slip — 'We' meant that he felt involved in the child's existence — but his eyes darkened at the way he referred to her. He turned to the girl who seemed frightened by the presence of the other. "Why don't you go to your room, dear," he suggested lightly. "Killian and I are going to have a grown up conversation. Close the door behind you."

She left diligently and as she closed the door, he gave the newly awakened vampire a dangerous look. "Do not," he sneered, "call her a beast ever again. She is well-behaved, and we will ensure her safety once she is turned."

Their argument persisted through the night and into the early hours as the sun ascended in the sky. That wasn't anything new for them—Killian always rambled about how the 'curse of vampirism was something he didn't wish on anybody else'. Or how 'selfish and conniving Dorian had been to doom him to such a fate,' acting like a martyr. If anything, the older vampire should be the one complaining. Killian was too focused on making a tragedy out of his existence to care about anyone else. As always, the two only stopped when both of them had exhausted each other enough and then left it at that.

"I will go hunting," Killian declared, exasperation evident in the pinch of his nose.

"At this hour of the day?" Dorian questioned, both baffled and frustrated.

"Had you not started this complete mess, I would have been able to do so earlier," the dark-haired vampire countered.

"Oh, so all of this is my fault?" Dorian challenged. "Typical of you."

"Typical?" Killian repeated with outrage. "What do you mean, 'typical'?"

"Always trying to put the blame on someone, aren’t you, darling?" Dorian snapped back sardonically.

"Don't you try to put this on me," he threatened angrily. "This is all your doing!"

"This is ridiculous!" the blond exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air spitefully. "Utterly ridiculous; you are ridiculous!"

And like that, another session of arguing began.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #unhealthy relationships #toxic relationship #They are lovers your honor #but they shouldn't be XD

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

Text

Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!”

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!”

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity.

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have.

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends.

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content. Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had.

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools.

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake.

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that. In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept.

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers.

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.”

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke.

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego.

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on.

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour.

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.”

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible.

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years.

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!”

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life.

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?”

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise.

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense.

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you.

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him.

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set.

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of.

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation.

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother.

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.”

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now.

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you.

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made.

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.”

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them.

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air.

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone.

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better.

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego.

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?”

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?”

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.”

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you.

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls.

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway.

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.”

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.”

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

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poweringthroughthis · 2 months

Text

trouble maker | wong yukhei

sfw (suggestive at the end, a curse word)

ship: lucas x male reader

desc: lucas and (name) hate each other for the stupidest of reasons. but as their debut showcase approaches, they realize they might have to work together.

The tension between lucas and (name) was palpable as they sneakily eyed each other in the practice room, waiting their days for their turn to debut in the kpop industry. The two were set to take the world of music by a storm in their respective duos.

Their agency was committed to try out a new style of teams. With the globalization of kpop and gradually spreading acceptance for queer idols(thanks to icons like Holland), the officials deemed it fit to launch two different duos, all males, centering their primary concept on 'chemistry' or 'love'.

(name) and his teammate Mark, panted in their ending pose, backs touching each other's as the music finished playing. lucas and hendery were observing them with keen eyes, catching their breaths after finishing their round of rehearsals earlier.

hendery whistled, "that was amazing guys!", complimenting his labelmates as Mark and (name) offered tired smiles. the latter turned to smirk at lucas who looked annoyed at hendery's praise for their competitors.

"yeah, (name) can dance" lucas started, "..for a beanpole., he finished with a light snort, making the taller male sport an angered look.

"fuck off, shortie. at least i don't need a ladder to reach the top shelf" he retorted.

"that's an exaggeration. and at least i don't have a face that looks like a deer caught in headlights!"

"you-" the fiery exchange was interrupted as the door to the room opened, the common manager-to-be of both duos making an appearance, instantly making the 4 males stand up as the man never barges in during practice unless it is important.

"Guys." he began with a serious tone and a hint of restlessness in his tone. "we need to talk. there's been some..changes".

"Is this what I think it is?" Mark was the first one to inquire, indirectly voicing out each trainee's worst fear but the manager was quick to intercept.

"No, no. God, no. you boys are still debuting. you deserve it. but there are some..line-up changes. apparently, the company now feels it's a waste of potential variety to debut two duos in the same concept. "

the boys exchanged looks with each other. they'd been together for a while now, going through thick and thin as good friends. it'd be a shame to part ways so close to their debut, after promising to fulfill their dreams together.

"so we had a meeting and decided on one hip-hop duo, and the other to continue in the same theme. naturally, hendery and mark have been paired up together as they fit the rap concept more." he finished explaining the news.

soon after, the manager had left, leaving the boys reeling from the news. at least it was no new members and the 4 were only shuffled amongst themselves, they told each other.

days passed, and mark and hendery started spending more time in the studio instead of dance practices, working on their verses. having love for hip-hop since forever, the two seemed happy which reassured their friends.

lucas and (name), on the other hand, were having a hard time toleration one another. even though they were extremely professional, personal feelings kept aside as long as the song played but despite their undeniable talent and charisma, their constant bickering threatened to overshadow their potential success.

the dynamic between the two was anything but harmonious. they clashed over everything, from song choices to choreography to who should get more screen time in their debut music video. each disagreement only served to fuel their rivalry, pushing them further apart even as they were forced to work together for the sake of their debut.

One particularly heated argument erupted during a late-night rehearsal, when Lucas criticized (name)'s dance moves as sloppy and uncoordinated. "You move like a clumsy giraffe," he taunted, earning a scowl from the taller.

"Maybe I'd dance better if I didn't have to carry your dead weight on stage," he snapped back, his patience wearing thin. he stormed out of the room, both of them fuming.

they couldn't go on like this. no matter how good they perform on stage, if the dynamic behind the scenes was going to be this flaming, their stardom was destined to be short-lived.

But just as it seemed like their partnership was doomed to failure, a moment of unexpected vulnerability changed everything. after a late-night practice session, (name) accidentally let slip a personal insecurity that had been weighing heavily on his mind, causing lucas to pause in surprise from drinking water.

"I never asked to be taller than everyone else, you know?" he admitted, his usually confident facade crumbling in the face of his insecurity. "It's not easy standing out in a crowd for all the wrong reasons."

Lucas, who had always viewed (name) as an annoying trainee to be defeated, suddenly saw him in a different light. He realized that beneath the bravado and insults, there was a person with their own struggles and insecurities, just like himself.

In that moment of shared vulnerability, the walls between them crumbled, and a newfound understanding and respect blossomed. They put aside their petty disagreements and focused on their shared goal of creating something truly special together.

they had seen each other work their asses off for this and they decided to let the world know just that.

as the day of their debut finally arrived, Lucas and (name) took to the stage with a newfound sense of unity and purpose. the practice sessions leading up to the fateful day had a new emotion lingering in the dance room: admiration. which slowly seemed to blossom into newfound feelings. those of fondness and liking.

Their performance was nothing short of spectacular. their voices blended harmoniously, their dance moves synchronized effortlessly, and their stage presence was nothing short of electrifying. there was no denying the undeniable chemistry between them when they performed together. after their debut song, the suggestive moves in the duo's dance cover of the song 'troublemaker' had the audience gasping for air. they had prepared this one as a surprise to make a bold statement on their first day at work. they weren't to be taken lightly.

Cheers and applause resounded at the music bank set as Lucas and (name) took their final bow. And as they stood with foreheads resting against each other's, breathless and full of adrenaline, there was no trace of animosity between them, only a shared sense of accomplishment and by the tension, a budding romance.

Lucas turned to (name), a smirk on his face. "hey doe eyes, you ready for our next performance?" he asked, gesturing to the empty hall while taking off their microphones.

"bring in on, shortie" (name) winked in response, as he walked towards an empty room without looking back, gesturing for lucas to follow him using his index finger.

"let's see how much of a 'trouble maker' you can actually be, shall we?"

#kpop male idol #kpop x male reader #male idol x male reader #lucas x male reader #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv

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winged-scribe · 2 days

Text

Twilight Bonds

tws : primal play, power dynamic, knotting, breeding kink if you squint, mirror sex.

fem!reader x tp!Link - commission by anonymous

wc : 3.4 k

It was in the quaint village of Ordon where our tale unfolds, under the watchful gaze of the setting sun, painting the sky in hues of fiery passion and serene peace.

[Name], a maiden with eyes reflecting the depth of the twilight, and a spirit as untamed as the wind, was a wanderer at heart. Her journey had brought her to Ordon, a village that seemed to exist in a space where time flowed gently. She entered the village, excited for the new sights and people she would meet.

As [Name] eagerly walked through the village, she took note of her surroundings; Ordon Village was a tapestry of pastoral beauty, nestled in the embrace of nature’s undisturbed splendor. The cottages, with their thatched roofs and walls of warm, sun-baked clay, huddled together like old friends sharing secrets. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread and the earthly aroma of burning wood. Their gardens bloomed with a riot of colors, from the fiery reds of geraniums to the delicate blues of forget-me-nots, each petal a testament to the villagers’ harmony with the land.

Keen to become a part of this idyllic setting, she approached some villagers with a smile. However, the response she received was far from the kind embrace she had envisioned. The villagers, bound by the tight-knit fabric of their long-standing relationships, viewed her as an outsider. Their greetings were curt, smiles forced, and their conversations ended almost as quickly as they began. She attempted to engage with them, complimenting their lovely village, asking about their traditions, and expressing a genuine interest in their ways of life. But [Name]’s efforts were met with cold shoulders and suspicious glances.

Whispers followed her and doors closed upon her approach as she walked through the main street back to her inn. She couldn't understand the cause of their aversion. Was it her unfamiliar accent? Her different attire? The rejection from the locals weighed heavily on her mind, the village’s frigid demeanor a stark contrast to the warmth of the hearth that greeted her as she entered her room. It was a small, cozy area, with walls adorned with woven tapestries. A sturdy wooden bed, covered with a quilt of patchwork colors, beckoned [Name] to rest, while a side table by the window held a basin and pitcher for washing away the day’s weariness. Across from the bed, a large mirror took the pride of the place. Its frame was a work of art, the wood polished to a shine, reflecting the craftsmanship of the village’s artisans.

She moved to the window, pushing it open to let in the cool evening breeze. The once lively village had begun to fade into a hushed lullaby. [Name] found herself gazing at the setting sun, stars slowly appearing across the night sky.

With a sigh, she turned away from the window and lit a small candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows throughout the room.

She sat at the edge of the bed, her hands idly tracing the patterns on the quilt. The fabric told stories of harvests and festivals, of a community woven together by shared joys and sorrows.

In an attempt to distract herself from the cold sting of rejection, she decided to take refuge in the one thing that brought her consolation–a walk. The open air should clear her mind. She stepped out of the Inn, the wooden door closing softly behind her, and ventured into the twilight. The village was completely quiet now, only the soft chirps of crickets filled the silence of daily life retreated into the privacy of homes and hearths. [Name] wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the fabric a small comfort against the crisp evening air.

The path before her wound through the village and out into the fields beyond, where the land stretched out like a canvas waiting for the night's brush. The sky, a mosaic of deepening blues and purples, was the first to welcome her, the stars beginning to twinkle like shy eyes opening to the night. Her footsteps were silent on the soft earth, the only sound being the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nightingale. The beauty of Ordon, untouched by the shadows of Ganon, enveloped her in its serene arms. Here, among the whispering grasses and watchful trees, [Name] found a peace that the village had all but denied her.

As she continued the path, her thoughts drifted like the clouds above. She pondered the walls people build around their hearts, the fear of the unknown and difference that drives them to shun what they do not understand. Yet, she felt a kinship with the world around her–a world that asked for no explanations, that accepted her presence without question.

[Name] stops abruptly, a new sound gracing her ears–a sound that seemed both foreign and familiar. It was a flute, she realized. Its notes floating through the air with a poignant beauty that tugged at her heartstrings. The melody was haunting, filled with longing and a touch of sorrow, yet it carried a strength that spoke of hope and courage. Drawn by the music, [Name] followed the sound, her steps light, as if she were being pulled by an invisible thread.

The melody led her to the spring, a place where the water mirrored the sky’s twilight canvas. Slowly peeking from the brush, she saw him for the first time–Link, the village’s guardian, his fingers moving expertly over the instrument, his eyes closed as if in communion with the song he played.

He hadn’t noticed her, too immersed in his music, he continued playing. [Name] approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt the magic of the moment. As she drew closer, the music enveloped her, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She stood there listening until the final note drifted into the evening air and silence fell.

It was then that Link opened his eyes, a sense of tranquility surrounding him. Tranquility gave way to surprise when his gaze fell upon [Name], who stood at the edge of the spring, her figure bathed in the twilight's last embrace. For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked and a myriad of unspoken words passed between them. [Name]’s heart raced. A sudden fear gripping her–a fear of the unknown, of the intensity she saw reflected in Link's eyes. It was as if he could see into the very depths of her soul, and the vulnerability of that connection was overwhelming.

With a sharp intake of breath, she turned on her heel and fled, her footsteps a hurried whisper against the soft earth. Link’s hand instinctively reached out, a silent plea for her to stay, to understand that whatever just happened was to be cherished, not feared. But as she disappeared into the veil of night, Link remained still, the wisdom of his heart telling him to resist the urge to chase after her. He understood that some bonds, like the rarest of flowers, needed space to bloom. He stood there, the longing etched in his stance, a silent vow forming in his spirit to wait for her, to give her the time she needed to understand the depth of their connection.

Trees become a haze as [Name] runs through the underbrush. Her heart pounded like the drums of a frenzied dance as she re-entered the village, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The cool night air whipped against her face, tangling her hair into wild tendrils that whirled in the wind's chaotic rhythm. The cobblestone beneath her feet was a blur, each step propelling her further away from the spring, from Link, and from the intense heat his gaze gave her.

She reached the inn, a sanctuary of wood and stone, its windows glowing with the promise of solitude. With trembling hands, she pushed open the door, the silence a much needed relief from the pounding of her heart. [Name] made her way to her room, thoughts in disarray, each step she took felt heavier than the last.

Once she entered her room, she leaned back against the door, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing. She moved to the window, her hands gripping the sill as she gazed out into the night. Thoughts of Link invaded her mind, unbidden yet persistent. She remembered the way his music had stirred something deep within her, a longing she couldn't quite name. His presence had been a balm to her loneliness, his melody a thread weaving through the emptiness she had felt since arriving in Ordon. But [Name] couldn’t deny she was drawn to the mystifying figure known as Link.

[Name] moved to the bed. As she sat at the edge, the softness of the mattress contrasted sharply with the turmoil within her. The room, bathed in the gentle glow of the candle, seemed to hold her in a tender embrace, a silent witness to the storm in her soul.

Her thoughts returned to Link. The memory of his eyes, deep and fathomless, lingered in her mind, a haunting presence that she could neither embrace nor escape. The melody of his flute, a poignant echo of their brief encounter, played over in her head–a symphony of what-ifs and maybes.

As sleep’s gentle vines began to weave their way around [Name]’s consciousness, her last thoughts were of him. She imagined his strong hands deftly coaxing music from the flute, his focused gaze as he poured his soul into the notes.

For the next four nights, as if drawn by an unseen force, [Name] found herself at the spring. Hidden in the shadows, she watched Link play his flute, each tune a new story told in the language of music. The melodies were varied–some joyful, some melancholic, but all of them touched by the magic of twilight.

She stayed only long enough to commit the music to memory, slipping away like a wraith before the final notes faded. Each retreat was a battle between her desire to stay and the fear of discovery. Yet, with each passing night, the music wove a stronger spell, and her heart grew ever more entwined with the enigmatic guardian of Ordon Village.

On the fifth night, under the cloak of darkness, [Name] once again found herself drawn to the spring. The melody of Link’s flute filled the air, a haunting tune that seemed to speak of longing and unfulfilled desires. She nestled into her usual hiding spot, her presence masked by the shadows.

The night was still, the only sound was the music and the occasional hoot of an owl. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. A stray twig lay hidden beneath the blanket of fallen leaves, and as she shifted her weight, it snapped—a sharp, betraying sound that shattered the silence.

Link’s music ceased abruptly, and their eyes met across the moonlit clearing. Time seemed to stand still, the world holding its breath. [Name] couldn’t seem to move, even as Link strode towards her. The air thickened around her, clinging to her skin like a damp shroud. Her heart raced, like a wild stallion was galloping through her chest.

Link’s eyes were dark and half-lidded with desire, something starved and primal seemingly stripping [Name] down where she stood, tracing over every feature of hers. His stature seemed larger, and more frightening up close. The moonlight painted his features in stark relief–the sharp angles of his jaw, the taut line of his lips. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, and [Name] wondered if this was the same man she had been sneakily listening to.

“Why do you keep running?” Link’s voice startles you–seeming low and strained. It was a low growl, a primal rumble that echoed through the spring.

She tried to speak, but her tongue felt heavy, and uncooperative. The world tilted, and she swayed, dizzy with conflicting emotions. Fear and desire warred within her, a typhoon threatening to consume her being.

“Link,” [Name] whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t-”

He took a step closer to [Name]. His scent—a heady mix of pine and musk—wrapped around her, intoxicating and dangerous. [Name] backed away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. He cups his hand against her face, idly tracing his thumb over her cheek.

Link leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of [Name]’s ear, having to forcibly hold himself back from pouncing on her right at this moment as she shivers from the contact. She finally stands in front of him, finally within his grasp and his for the taking.

“Run,” he whispers lowly. [Name] looks up at the man towering over her, eyes becoming wide and doe-like. A growl rumbles from his throat. “But if I catch ya,” he drawls, his lips slowly moving downwards, teasing the skin of her neck. Link stops and hovers over her pulse, mouth watering over her scent. “I'll take you.”

Heat flooded [Name’s] core, arousal leaking through the fear and unease. Their eyes lock, unspoken words exchanged between the two of them as Link begins to count backwards from five.

“Five.” Would she make it back in time?

“Four.” How long would the chase last?

“Three.” Would her room at the inn be the safe spot?

“Two.” What did Link plan to do once he caught her?

“One.” Then, the spell broke, and [Name] turned and fled, her heart thundering in her chest.

This time, however, Link’s instincts took over. He could no longer be the silent observer, his feet moving before his mind had time to protest. He gave chase, his form a blur of motion, driven by a force he couldn’t name.

They raced through the village, [Name]’s breath coming in ragged gasps, Link’s footsteps a relentless echo behind her. The night air was a rush of adrenaline, the village a maze of shadows and light.

She reached the inn, her sanctuary, and with a desperate surge of strength, she burst into her room. She barely had a moment to catch her breath when she saw him—Link, framed by the window, his silhouette a testament to his otherworldly agility.

There was an intensity in his gaze, a silent question that hung in the air between them as they stood unmoving. [Name]’s eyes were wide and frightened, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as Link’s hungry gaze trailed the frame of her body, fully taking her in. Link stalks toward her, tightly snaking his arms around [Name]’s midsection as his lips brush against the cusp of her ear.

“Caught ya.” He murmurs, voice deep and husky with thinly veiled desire.

Link pushes her against the door, eager to claim what the Goddesses had gifted him. He trails his lips against [Name]’s neck, kissing and sucking whatever he could reach. [Name] couldn’t stop the noises that fell from her mouth, Link seeming to know exactly where to direct his onslaught of frenzied affection.

Their breath mingled in the air, a symphony of gasps and moans filling the room as they surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their bodies. Link's hands roamed over her curves, igniting a fire within her that burned brighter with each touch, each kiss, each whispered promise of ecstasy.

Link slots his knee between [Name]’s thighs, pressing against her core as his fingertips dig harshly into the plush flesh of her hips. His hands rock her into his thigh, setting the pace agonizingly slow. Link groans into her lips, his cock throbbing in time with her moans, and he finds that he is unable to wait any longer.

He lowers himself to the floor, his fingers hooking around the hem of her waistband— tugging her bottoms off and tossing it to the side. Link’s breath fans across her clothed heat, his nose bumping into her clit as he desperately laps at the fabric. He seemed as if he were a starving man, and they hastily tear the remaining clothing from their bodies, exposing their unmarked skin to the moonlight.

His breathing grows ragged, his chest rapidly rising and falling as one hand reaches up to cup her breast, and the other tenderly pushing a digit into her as his lips latch back onto her bundle of nerves. Link’s eyes roll back at the taste, his fingers slowly pumping in time with each roll of his tongue on her clit.

[Name] gasps at the welcome intrusion, fisting Link’s hair to bring him closer. He moans at the pain and adds another digit that causes her to spasm with pleasure. He suddenly stops his abuse, and looks up at [Name] from beneath his lashes, eyes half-lidded with a ravenous, instinctual hunger.

“Why did you-“ [Name] begins to question. But Link cuts her off by picking her up and taking her in front of the mirror. Her face flushes with embarrassment as she meets their reflections, her core clenching around nothing. Her eyes connect with Link’s pulsing length, widening as she realized he was indeed not like other Hyrulian men.

His cock was flushed a pretty pink, the base plump with arousal, and the head a thick bulb. [Name] begins to panic, how would that ever fit inside her? Link notices her anxiety and sloppily trails kisses along her neck in an attempt to soothe her.

“Don’t worry, lil’ bunny. I’ll go nice n’ easy on ya.” Link purrs, chuckling darkly. He aligns himself with [Name]’s entrance, swiping his cockhead along her folds - leaving a silvery string of arousal connecting them.

“Look atcha, Bunny…you’re drooling f’me. Can’t handle a little heavy petting?” Link all but groans, slowly sinking into her gummy walls. [Name] clenched around his cock like a vice, a soft whine leaving her lips that nearly snapped Link’s remaining patience. His jaw slackens as his fingers wrap around [Name]’s jaw, forcing her to watch as he slowly thrusts into her.

“Be a good girl and watch me make a mess of ya, Bunny,” he murmurs in her ear. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Once she was accustomed to his size, her soft whines rising in volume, Link increases his pace. His hips snap into her, breathy groans parting his lips as his knot begins to swell. Their gazes meet in the mirror’s reflection, tears bubbling in [Name’s] half-lidded eyes as he gains speed.

“Doin’ so good for me, bunny.” Link praises, his breath growing heavy as he begins to lose himself to the feeling, his thrusts growing sloppy. [Name] whines in response, her walls pulsing and fluttering around Link’s swollen knot.

“Not yet, bunny. Gotta cum with me.” He growls, his fingers finding purchase on her hips, digging harshly into the skin. His knot throbs inside of [Name], low groans and whines filling the open space as the two grow closer to their climax. Each thrust becomes harder, faster, a cacophony of lewd squelching and sounds of ecstasy.

“Nngh.. I’m close, bunny… a little more and i’ll fuck you full of my cum, yeah? You’ll be good and take it f’me, won’t you, bunny?” Link growls.

[Name]’s mind is spinning with pleasure, melting into a soft mush. Her stomach tightens at Link’s words, her body growing hotter as she watches the man rut into her. “Link… I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. You’ll hold it f’me, okay? Such a good girl takin’ my cock like this.” Link rasps between quick breaths. His praise alone makes her tighten in pleasure. “Fuck, bunny… I’m gonna cum..!”

“Cum with me..! Cum with me, bunny-“ Link moans through gulps of air, his knot locking inside her gummy walls as he weakly fucks [Name] through their shared orgasm. Hot ropes of cum spill into her womb, her body trembling as her orgasm washes over her. Tears spill down her cheeks from the sheer intensity.

Link bites down on the apex of [Name]’s shoulder to muffle his sounds of pleasure, a pained whine erupting from the woman. Even after their orgasms have passed, Link slowly continues rutting into her, instincts demanding that he doesn’t waste a drop. He presses a tender kiss to her pulse after some time, inhaling the aroma of her natural pheromones and gently pulls out of her.

“You did so good for me, bunny.” Link murmurs softly, padding off to the bathroom to find something to clean her up. When he returns, he carefully cleans [Name] up and slides into bed with her - an arm draped over her waist as he pulls her close to him.

“You don’t have to run anymore, [Name].”

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xarlenewithanx · 8 months

Text

Memories Bring Back You

Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Synopsis: After six years of drifting apart, a reunion event has brought you back into his embrace.

Content/s: fluff, high school setting, etc.

a/n: please forgive my writing, I don’t know how to write emotions so please bear with it. I am currently writing as many as I can rn to improve it.

word count: 1,592

Never once did the words ‘I love you’ escape his lips, nor did he display even the slightest hint of affection through his actions. Every time he approached you, a spark of hope would ignite within you, a longing for some acts of appreciation.

But nothing ever came. His emotional detachment remained constant, and you had reached your breaking point. For two long years, you had been in a relationship that felt like an emotional black hole, and you were tired of expecting something, only for it to be nothing.

You decided to end it all.

“Satoru,” you called out to him.

“Hmm?” He replied.

“I want to break up with you,”

His heart sank.

He stopped his tracks to turn to you. He couldn’t possibly be hearing that, right?

“Huh?” He asked, attempting to hear more clearly.

You sighed in annoyance.

“I said, I want to end this relationship” You spoke, clearly this time.

A deafening silence overwhelmed him as he tried to grasp your words to him.

“I think it’s time for us to embark on our own journeys,” you continued. “This doesn’t seem to be fulfilling for you as well, does it?”

You lightly smiled at him, fighting off the urge to show how you were hurting too, and turned around as you pivoted on your heel to distance yourself from him, only for him to reach out to you and pull you to an embrace from behind.

His sudden grasp on you almost made you lose balance, but he steadied himself into you so you didn’t collapse.

This was the first time he showed you affection.

He rested his head on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your body for a while.

“Satoru,” You snapped. “Please. For the last time, I will not change my decision.” You ordered.

“I’ll listen to you, so please, don’t leave me,” He mumbled. “Did I do something?” He asked, begging for an answer. “I promise, I’ll change,”

As much as you wanted to tell him about his neglectful behavior throughout your time together, what good will it do when you have decided it’s finally over?

“Satoru, as much as I wanted to stay, I possibly couldn’t. We all have our reasons to cut our ties with people, and for this one, it’s best if I don’t tell you. I don’t want to hurt you. so please, let me go, you’ll be happy once you remove a burden that’s been weighing you down.”

You freed yourself from his desperate hold and continued down your path. You didn’t dare to glance back at him, fearing to witness the depression and denial that was painted on his face.

That was a chapter from your past, precisely six years ago, during your final years at Jujutsu Tech. Upon graduation, you decided to put your exorcising activities to a halt. The graphic memories of your fellow students dying or being severely injured were a common sight that haunted you until graduation. You couldn’t bear to see more people suffer the same fate had you continued down that path.

Out of nowhere, your phone buzzed with a new message. The sender was Shoko, a name you haven’t seen in six long years. The message announced a reunion event held in your old school later that night.

A wave of nostalgia washed over you. It was a chance to reconnect with faces from your past. A time of reminiscence, a trip down memory lane.

The event was filled with people you knew six years ago, with faces both familiar and unfamiliar. The air was filled with joyous laughter and chatter as everyone exchanged their stories about their journeys post-graduation. The atmosphere was light-hearted, along with the clicking sound of glasses and the harmonious melodies of shared songs.

You excused yourself from the room, seeking solitude in the cool night air. As you strolled down the lanes of the school, lit with the soft glow of the full moon, were a memory of your time in Jujutsu Tech. Every corner, every room, brought back memories from your time with your old classmates.

You found yourself standing at the very place where you severed your ties with Satoru. The memories came flooding back, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. You could still feel the desperate pull of his embrace, his pleas for you to stay echoing in your ears. It was a moment frozen in time, a reminder that will stay with you forever.

“Hey!” a familiar voice reached out to you.

The sound was like a gentle breeze. You turned around to find Satoru standing there. His face was illuminated by a bright smile as if he had been eagerly anticipating your return to school. He stood near a bench just behind you.

With a casual pat on the seat, he invited you to join him. The bench was beside a tree whose blossoms were falling from the cold breeze.

You both delved into the tales of your lives after graduation, the conversation flowing easily like a river. He spoke passionately about his decision to remain at the school, working as a sorcerer and at the same time, a teacher. Satoru’s eyes sparked with enthusiasm as he recounted his missions with his students.

His nonchalant demeanor as he narrated his experiences stirred something within you. It was as if an old torch as been ignited again, bringing back to life a part of you that you thought you had left behind on the grounds of the school.

“You know, I spent a lot of time reflecting on my behavior later that day.” He confessed. His voice had a regretful tone as he spoke.

You quickly tilted your head as he unexpectedly changed the topic of the conversation.

“I couldn’t bring myself to understand why you would choose to leave me.”

“You still haven’t moved on?” You answered despite the emotional weight of the conversation.

Satoru paused for a moment before answering. “You can’t move on from something that made you curious, can you?

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, followed by a nod in agreement.

“So, I’m here to apologize,” Satoru announced. His voice sounded shaky and unstable. “I’m sorry that… I never properly showed you adoration…”

Satoru’s voice grew louder. “I’m sorry that I had people question about us. I’m sorry, that I spent more time with strangers than with you. I’m sorry that it took me six years, six FUCKING years! To realize that I still love you!”

He inhaled deeply. “I love you!!! I missed you! Ever since you left my side, you have been the only one occupying my mind… I never thought that day would come when you yourself would sever your ties. I have always dreamed of us living together in our estate, even after the fact that you broke on what I thought was fate. If I had the chance to turn back time when our love was at its prime, I would have moved mountains if it meant ensuring you would still be mine.” He took a deep breath from his melodically poetic confession.

You were left speechless with his words. Who would have thought that your seemingly unaffectionate ex would have a poetic side?

For the first time in your life, you witness a side of Satoru that was unseen, even when you’re still together. Satoru Gojo, who rarely shows weakness, now stood before you in this pitiful state. His blindfold was soaked with his tears, and his sobs echoed in the silence. The sight of him, so woeful and melancholic, bawling with no sign of embarrassment, is an image that tugs at your heartstrings.

“Forgive me as well,” You begin your side.

“I was selfish to think that I was your only priority. I should have thought that you have other things keeping you company. I should have realized that you had your world apart from the one with me. It’s too late of an apology after the damage we both caused, but at the very least Satoru, our feelings were finally out, and we can both rest assured, that our hearts are freed from the chains from the past.” You finished.

Both of you were vulnerable at that moment. The soft glow of the moonlight and the cold breeze were the only ones occupying your shared space. You fell into his embrace once more, his head resting on your shoulder as he whispered his words, promising to treat you right and be more attentive this time.

“Can I call you princess again?” He asked, anxiously anticipating your response.

You smiled as you brushed your hand against his hair as if to comfort him.

“Of course, Satoru, I’ll always be your princess.” You replied.

His arms tightened their grip on you, where you couldn’t even breathe.

Faint sounds of footsteps were heard coming towards you. Followed by slow clapping sounds.

“Well if it isn’t the long-lost lovebirds?” Suguru asked sarcastically. “I’m liking the view right now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru replied, His voice tickling your nape.

“Ever so cheesy I see,” Shoko commented.

“Hey, did you know he kept the items you left in his house? Pens, notebooks, your hair tie?” Suguru teased him.

“Oh yeah, he kept them in a box with the label ‘Princess’” Shoko replied.

You chuckled at their remarks.

“Finally, you’re back in his life.” They declared in unison before going back to the event.

As the rest of your class was busy reuniting with old friends, you were busy cuddling in Satoru’s embrace.

187 notes · View notes

shall-we-die · 9 months

Text

╔‌‌‌‌•°🦢༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚

{Dreams}

How they picture their futures with their s/o?

╞•⊰❖⊱•═══•༻🤍༺•═══•⊰❖⊱•╡

↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Moriarty the Patriot}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {None}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0010} ┈─╮

╭───────┈┈┈┈┈┈───────╯

╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

╚•°🦢༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

↬|William|

• He really wants to marry his s/o, move to a lovely town somewhere in England and raise a bunch of kids together. He dreams of taking his child(ren) to a park and playing tag with them and building a house and a garden with them.

• After his s/o managed to get through to him, he realised that he has someone who accepts him no matter what and that there is still some light in the world. He has a bit of hope for the first time in a long while.

• Maybe things won't go as badly as he always assumed they would. And if they do, he won't have to deal with them alone... not again.

• William is actually a very family oriented person, and he hopes in the future to have one or more of his own. He always dreamt of having children. However he can't imagine them being happy with the man he currently is. {"I can't have children. My children would hate me. I'm too broken to raise another human being. How can I protect and shape a soul when mine is so corrupted?"}

• But he knows that he can't do everything alone, and he knows that suicide won't be an option after getting together with this beloved ones. He'll do everything he can to make them happy and to make himself happy. He'll work hard to achieve his dreams just so he can spend the rest of his life at their side.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Albert|

• Albert pictures their future as one that's peaceful and quiet, filled with all the small, but meaningful interactions that make up a good life.

• Albert and his s/o share a drink in the afternoon, go out to eat at a cafe and watch a theatre performance. He'll listen to them gush about their day and show his appreciation for them through affectionate comments.

• He'll take part in a friendly debate or two with his lover, then settle in for a quiet night, with nothing but each other's company to keep them entertained.

• Albert is a hopeless romantic who believes in the true purity and magic of love. He's not afraid to admit it, and in the future, he would love to settle down and live in peace and happiness with his one true love who he believes is out there somewhere, waiting just for him.

• He also wants to be the head of a large and happy family, with his children growing up to be as kindhearted, honest, and strong as he is.

• Albert and his future s/o will lead a life full of love, happiness and adventure together. They'll be the head of a large and loving family, with lots of children who are as kindhearted, honest and brave as Albert is.

• They'll never want for anything, and even when hard times may come their way, they'll be able to get through it together. Albert and his s/o will face the world together, as partners, and nothing will ever tear them apart.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Louis|

• He envisions spending the rest of his life with his s/o, experiencing countless moments and memories with them, living in harmony and love.

• Louis’ future with his s/o involves not only their own happiness and fulfilment, but also the happiness and peace of others in their community.

• He imagines creating a loving and harmonious environment for them and everyone around them, one that’s absent of conflict and stress, where everyone can live peacefully and free from worry.

• Louis also visualises his and his s/o’s future selves to be well-adjusted individuals who are emotionally and intellectually stable, always striving to better themselves, helping one another and always working towards the betterment of their community.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Sebastian|

• Sebastian likes to fantasize that his eventual future would be living in a big mansion with his future s/o somewhere in the countryside.

• Sebastian imagines his future with his s/o to be full of excitement and adventure. He envisions them traversing the globe together, exploring exotic countries and cultures, and never staying in one place for very long.

• Their home away from home will be a luxury yacht that they use to travel from port to port, with their love for one another ever present. He looks forward to all the exciting memories they will make together and the new and unexpected experiences they will have.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Sherlock|

• Sherlock's ideal relationship seems to be one that involves a lot of banter and playful teasing. He loves the feeling of mutual trust and understanding. He would prefer a partner that is able to play off his wit and hold their own in a verbal duel.

• He wants someone sharp-witted and willing to do a bit of light-hearted arguing for the joy of it. He wants a partner to solve difficult cases with. He would like for his partner to be his equal (as Sherlock tends to struggle with a partner having any kind of authority over him), and he would also love for his partner to be independent.

• In his mind, he pictures them growing old together. They would continue solving cases, and Sherlock would spend most of his free time playing his violin.

• Sherlock can be very playful and light-hearted at times, especially when he is in his most relaxed state. He enjoys teasing people in general, but especially his partner.

• However, even as teasing and joking is a sign of affection for him, he also craves deep conversations to be able to understand and connect with his s/o on a more personal and meaningful level.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|John|

• John, as usual, is a man of many ideas and emotions. He is a romantic and loves nothing more than daydreaming about his future with his partner.

• However, when reality comes knocking the good doctor finds himself a mess of contradictions. He is torn between wanting to settle down and having his own children, and wanting to go around in the world healing and saving as many people as possible.

• He wants nothing more than to be close to his partner, but he also doesn't want to burden them or get in the way of their dreams. His hopes for their future are like a messy pile of his notes and notebooks.

• John craves stability and consistency in his life, but he's rarely able to provide it for himself. He worries that his constant changes of career and hobbies will make his partner question their future together, though he also knows that he cannot and will not compromise on wanting to be with them.

• He struggles to find a middle ground between his desire for happiness and his desire for purpose. Deep down, though, all he really wants is to be able to wake up every morning, see their beautiful face next to him, and feel complete.

• John, in the end, tends to side with wanting a family of his own. But he isn't one to put his desires on his partner, and more so hopes that they will come to the decision on their own.

• He wants children someday, or so he believes, but only if it will make his S/O happy. He is deeply in love and is always happy to make his partner happy at the cost of his own happiness. In theory, anyway. When his partner is happy everything is good in the world. If he is happy is an afterthought.

||[🄳reams]||

━●━━━━━━────────

⇆ㅤㅤ◁🄲ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🄴▷ㅤㅤ↻

#𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎–[🍓]#moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #william moriarty x reader #albert moriarty x reader #louis moriarty x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #john watson x reader #sebastian moran x reader

270 notes · View notes

thecampjuicebox · 8 months

Text

To have and to hold Pt. 3 (End)

Pairing: Tav(f) x Gale x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Marriage (throuple), smut, fluff, fingering, oral (f receiving), potential game spoilers (mostly just character names)

This is the end of "To have and to hold" as a story, I really hope you all enjoy! It's going to be a long one so I can do this ending justice. Let me know if you want more stuff like this in the future!

Gale paces back and forth nervously, little beads of sweat pooling above his eyebrows. He guides his hands over the front of his pale blue robes, the smooth fabric flattening beneath his trembling fingers. Tonight's the night. And you're late. Astarion rests comfortably against the wall of the temple, fiddling with the end of his coat, soft silver hair jostling ever so slightly in the autumn breeze. He traces the silver filigree around the bottom seem and admires how it sparkles in the light of the full moon. The newly rebuilt Selune temple stands tall at the end of a long cobblestone bridge, the outer edges of the bridge decorated with grand displays of flowers, tall metal arches adorned with moonstone turning the bridge into an extravagant tunnel. It's truly breathtaking, and it still does nothing to calm the wizard's anxiety. Everyone is already waiting inside, bards at the ready. Gale continues to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, mumbling little "Where is SHE"s and "I'm going to kill her"s to himself, earning an amused chuckle from Astarion.

"Calm your nerves, Wizard. She'll be here soon enough."

"Gods, she'd be late to her own funeral."

Quick footsteps thunder towards the two men and Gale whips around at the noise. Karlach barrels towards them, waving her arms. to shoo them into the building.

"Both of you! Inside! Now! She's coming!"

Gale throws his arms up in frustration, grabbing Astarion by the elbow and they rush into the temple. Wyll and Halsin are already waiting at the altar, hands folded neatly in front of them. Gale peeks around the corner to assess the size of the crowd, air catching in his throat when he sees just how many people showed up for the ceremony. The late, and not at all shocking, news of the addition of Astarion to the ceremony didn't seem to dissuade any of the guests. He breathes a sigh of relief and motions to Volo to start the music, Volo excitedly swinging his arms about at the bards. Lutes, lyres, and flutes all play in a beautiful harmony, Alfira singing softly to welcome Gale down the isle first, Astarion following not far behind. They both take their places on each side of the altar, the white haired cleric of Selune, Isobel, exchanging kind smiles with each of them.

You stand outside, large bouquet in your hands, the soft green ivies and hanging bell flowers nestled amongst the Selune's Tears and Crocus flowers trickling towards the ground, contrasting against the pale blue silk of your dress. Your last second dress change was Shadowheart's idea and you couldn't thank her more. Silver filigree and moon symbols adorn the bodice of the dress, silver velvet cloak swaying behind you in the night time breeze. You shiver lightly, wiggling your fingers beneath the heavy foliage of your bouquet. Shadowheart asses you carefully, poking and prodding at the neat plaits of dark hair that encircle your head. You giggle and hold still for her. She carefully places a small moon hair pin in the back of the braids, fixing its position a few times before settling on a spot she agrees with. She smiles to herself, gently stroking your back for a moment before stepping away and mumbling a quiet "Perfect." Karlach takes a small handkerchief from her back pocket and wipes under her eyes, hot tears threatening to stain her cheeks. You poke out your bottom lip and fight back tears of your own, gently reaching up to stroke Karlach's cheek, soothing her.

"I'm just so happy for you, Soldier. You're really doing it. And you look so beautiful."

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

Your head cocks to the side at Shadowhearts sudden exclamation, watching as she pulls a thin silver necklace from a pouch beneath her skirts, unclasping it and bringing it around your neck. A small silver moon pendant with a teardrop cut moonstone dangle rests against your pale skin, sitting snuggly between your collar bones. You gently run your fingers over the cool metal and smile, closing your eyes to savor this moment. It's actually happening. You're about to marry the loves of your life. You truly couldn't be happier now. All of your fear falls to the wayside, doubt being swept away by the autumn wind.

"Onward."

Karlach huffs quietly and moves to the handle of the left door to the temple, Shadowheart following suit to the right. You nod at them both and they swing the doors open, stepping inside before you. You hear the music swell, Alfira singing sweet melodies as Shadowheart and Karlach walk arm in arm down the isle towards the altar. They both settle to the right of the cleric on Astarion's side. Halsin waves to them excitedly, quickly straightening back up when Volo's voice thunders through the temple.

"Esteemed guests, I now present to you, the bride."

You inhale sharply, feeling as though you should hold your breath and you walk forward, breeching the temple doors. The crowd stands. Candles light the isle as you walk, the entire room of friends and family from each side settling their gaze on you. The music softens to an ethereal tune and Alfira simply hums, carefully strumming at her lute. The sights and sounds are enough to bring Gale to tears and he quickly swipes his thumbs under his eyes, Astarion chuckling at him once more until his gaze finally falls upon your frame. He scans your figure and gulps, mumbling a soft "Gods..". His breath catches in his throat, immediately choking him up. The two keep their eyes fixed on you as you walk, your cloak and the small train of your silk dress trailing being you. No goddess could compare to the way you look right now. You smile and blink tears away from your brown eyes, lashes coated in little droplets. Little gasps and coos flutter through the crowd and you approach the altar, Shadowheart reaching out to take your bouquet from you. You carefully hand it off to her and smile, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. She gives you a reassuring nod and you blink slowly. Isobel steps forward, raising both of her hands to instruct the crowd to sit and they obey, little sounds of feet shuffles echoing through the temple room before all falls silent.

"Welcome friends, family, lovers. Tonight we gather under the light of the Moon Maiden Selune to unite these families. Tav, Gale, Astarion, please join hands and kneel before me."

The three of you join hands, Gale capturing your left and Astarion capturing your right. You all kneel on the step of the altar carefully, Astarion and Gale helping to adjust your dress so you don't crumple it beneath your knees. You give each of them a sweet smile before turning your attention back to the cleric. The witnesses at the altar all lower their heads, eyes falling shut as they listen. The cleric sings in an unfamiliar language, raising her hands to the open ceiling of the temple, the full moon shining down on you and all of the guests. You sigh quietly and give Gale and Astarion's hands a gentle squeeze. They return the squeeze and your eyes flutter closed, a sense of calm washing over you while you listen to Isobel’s hymns. Her voice fades out, the room falling silent once more. A cool breeze sweeps through the temple, rustling your hair and cloak, making you shiver. The cleric stares up at the sky, eyes glowing with the bright light of the moon.

"She is with us.. Moon Maiden, hear me. Grant your love and protection over these souls as they unite under your light. Embrace them in your warmth, oh mother. Lead them through darkness, through sickness, through blight. Fill their hearts with your patience. Show them the way. So it shall be."

The crowd quietly mumbles in response "So it shall be". Isobel turns to a small table on the altar, two silver chalices shimmering in the moonlight placed with purpose in the middle of it. Your fingers tremble with excitement in your lovers' hands. The cleric raises the chalice carefully to the open sky, mumbling in the unfamiliar language again before instructing you to stand. You release Gale and Astarion's hands and approach Isobel.

"Moon milk, for protection, abundance, and fertility. Drink, my child. Accept the Moon Maiden into your heart and into your womb. Allow her to guide you. So it shall be."

You accept the chalice from her strong hands, raising it to the sky and mumbling "So it shall be" before taking a small sip of the milk, the cool liquid coating your throat and you sigh. She encourages you to finish the chalice with a small wave of the hand. You oblige, tilting your head back and swallowing the last of the sweet drink. You hand her the chalice carefully and she places a hand on your abdomen, mumbling quietly to herself. Astarion raises an eyebrow. Gale swats at his hand and the vampire grunts quietly. The cleric eyes the two men before tracing the symbol of a moon into your forehead, finally releasing you to join your lovers once more. She then motions for the two men to join her and she raises the second chalice into the air, mumbling a new prayer to the open sky.

"Wine, for protection, abundance, and patience. Drink, my child. Accept the Moon Maiden into your heart. Allow her to guide you. So it shall be."

She hands the chalice to Astarion first. He eyeballs the liquid inside. White wine. Certainly not his favorite. He closes his eyes and raises the chalice to the sky. "So it shall be." Taking a small sip, his body trembles at the taste, the unfamiliar burn making him cough lightly. Halsin chuckles and Wyll nudges his shoulder to shut him up. Shadowheart shoots eyes like daggers in their direction and they turn their attention back to the display on the alter, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Astarion hands the cleric the chalice and she then hands it to Gale, the ritual being repeated exactly the same way. The cleric clasps her hands together and smiles at the three of you, motioning for you to join hands one more and you obey.

"Family, friends, witnesses. By the power of the Moon Maiden Selune, I now declare these three to be wed. You may now share a kiss."

Astarion wastes no time pulling you to him, his lips crashing to yours and the crowd of guests cheers. Volo quickly motions for the group of bards to play "Bard Dance", Alfira strumming happily on her lute, spinning in little circles and dancing about with the others. Gale keeps hold on your hand, impatiently waiting for Astarion to stop the theatrics before he pulls you over to him. He embraces you gently, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, much less desperate than Astarions. You sigh against his lips and the vampire scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, a small smirk hanging on his wet lips. Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, and Karlach all rush down to the three of you, embracing you in a tight group hug. You giggle, smashed between all of the warm bodies and Astarion groans out loud.

"Gods, you're all too much!"

...

The long and exhausting night of festivities comes to a close, family and friends bidding your their final farewells as they seek the inns for sleep. Halsin throws a drunken Shadowheart over his stocky shoulder and she beats against his muscular back in protest, small hiccups leaving her before she finally gives in and goes limp in his grasp. Karlach stumbles into Wyll, laughing loudly, her bright flames burning a deep shade of purple and she wiggles an eyebrow in his direction. Wyll sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger. You giggle to yourself, your own wine buzz sending tingles up and down your spine. You eye your new husbands, both seemingly tired of the shenanigans that they've watched all night. The trek to your tower is short, filled with giggles and little kisses, reminiscing about the nights' events.

Astarion scoops your small frame up bridal style once you reach the front door, chucking at the small yelp he earns from you and he carries you past the threshold of the quaint wizard tower, Gale following close behind with your cloak in hand. He watches you both with love drunk eyes, carefully closing the front door behind the group and he tosses your cloak onto the bench below him. Astarion places you on your feet and you smooth your dress down carefully, reaching back to remove the moon hair pin that Shadowheart had given to you. With a swift tug, the pin releases your hair, the thick dark braids on top of your head falling with it and the plaits unravel themselves. You shake your head to further release your hair, the locks falling in perfect waves down your shoulders and back now. You reach your hands up to soothingly scratch at your scalp, sighing in pure pleasure at the relief taking down your hair has given you. Gale moves behind you now, hands resting on your hips, rubbing soothing circle into them as he leans down and buries his face into the side of your neck. He inhales your scent, the perfume you chose for your wedding night standing out to him distinctly. Rose water and orchid, a flowery scent he wasn't used to smelling on you. He sighs against your skin, peppering the area with the softest little kisses. Astarion steps toward the two of you, pressing his torso to yours, his hands resting on top of Gales at your hips. He pecks a kiss to your forehead, leaving a trail of kisses to the opposite side of your neck from Gale and he takes inventory of the knew smell as well. You shudder at the sudden overwhelming amount of sensations, your entire body breaking out in goosebumps. Gales fingers move to your back, fiddling with the corset lacing holding your dress on your body.

"Why don't we.. Get this off."

He tugs at one of the laces, loosening the ties. The dress drapes on your frame and Astarion reaches his hands up to slide the silk fabric down your shoulders, bodice moving down your torso to expose your breasts, nipples already hardening at the temperature change. You hiss at the cold air now assaulting your chest and back, both men making quick work of sliding your dress the rest of the way down your shivering body. Two pairs of lips latch to your skin, Astarion's sucking little bruises on the flesh of your breast while Gale works the side of your neck, tongue lapping at the skin there sweetly. You lean back into Gale, pulling Astarion closer to you, your mouth falling open. The vampire's right hand comes up to grasp at your breast, kneading the sensitive flesh as he kisses and licks on the other, tongue occasionally flicking over your painfully erect nipple. You buck your hips backwards, ass meeting Gale's growing bulge. You groan in excitement, completely unsure of what to do with your hands. Reaching forward needily, you gasp at the front of Astarions coat, fumbling with the silver metal buttons.

"Hm, a needy little thing, isn't she Gale?"

Astarion's honeyed tone makes your knees buckle. Gale nods in agreement, fingers toying with the plush skin of your thighs now.

"I think we should take this upstairs."

Gale lifts you into his arms and begins to ascend the stairs, leaving your wedding dress in the middle of the floor. You lace your arms around his neck, gazing up into his hungry eyes. He looks forward, determined to make it to the bedroom quickly. Astarion follows close behind, sliding his coat off and tossing it behind him, fingers working on the buttons of his silk shirt next. He smirks at you over Gale's shoulder and you eye him carefully, bottom lip trapped between chattering teeth. You let out an audible gasp when Gale suddenly tosses you onto the bed. You sink into the soft pillows and blankets, the smooth fabrics against your naked skin feeling absolutely delicious. Astarion steps behind Gale, helping him remove his coat and shirt, the two men standing in only their leathers now. You peer up at them, arousal burning between your thighs. Astarion steps in front of Gale and traces his fingers around the mark of the orb, earning a shuddering moan from Gale's lips. In a swift motion, Astarion captures Gale's lips with his, his hand sliding up and into the back of his hair. The two men press tightly together, hips grinding into one another feverishly. You groan at the sight. Gods, they're beautiful. Gale pulls away reluctantly and chews his bottom lip, eyes fixed on Astarion's before moving to you, your naked body causing him to salivate. He moves to the bed, reaching down to run his fingers over the soft silk of your underwear. He was surprised you'd worn any at all.

"Off with them."

His tone is commanding and unfamiliar, but you obey him, thumbs sliding into the corners of the fabric. You drag them down your thighs and kick them off. Astarion raises an eyebrow in amusement at the wizard's new found courage, hands resting on his hips.

"I'm impressed, Gale. What else can you do?"

Gale scoffs. Astarion takes a seat next to you on the bed, moving up and behind you so your head can rest in his lap and he strokes your soft hair away from your face. Grinning up at him, you pucker your lips playfully and he chuckles. Gale settles at the end of the bed, fingers tracing lazy shapes into your thighs, a quiet yawn stretching his mouth open.

"Careful, wizard. You'll catch flies."

"Gods I'm so happy I married you, Astarion."

You giggle at their banter and pure joy engulfs you in warmth. This moment is perfect. You are happy. Never did you think you'd be wed to both Gale and Astarion, a fantasy most ladies in Faerun wouldn't dare mutter in public. You feel so lucky. Your thoughts are halted suddenly as Gale slides his fingers up your inner thigh, pressing your legs apart and into the bed beneath you. You gasp loudly at the force of his grip. He smirks up at you from between your legs, brown eyes glowing in the lanternlight. Watching hip lick his lips at the sight of you makes your body weak and you slump back against Astarion, his toned arms pulling you up and into his lap gently, hands pushing your thighs apart for Gale once more. You chew on the skin of your bottom lip, picking little pieces off and drawing blood. Tiny droplets dot your lips and Astarion catches on to the scent immediately, lids lowering. He inhales deeply through his nose. "Mm.. A treat." Your lips flatten into a smirk. Gale sits up on his knees, reaching his fingers out to trace the top of your mound. You hiss and shudder. Astarion nuzzles his nose into your neck, breathing heavily against the sensitive skin there, tongue flicking out to trace the barely healed pierce marks from his last feeding. You obediently tilt your head to the side to expose more of your neck to him. With a quiet groan, he sinks his teeth into your tender flesh and begins to suck, earning a steady stream of crimson. You grasp onto the soft sheets beneath you, pain like shards of glass making you tense until the familiar numbness sets in. You go limp. Gale watches closely, taking advantage of your boneless state to swipe his fingers through your slick folds. You react quickly, hips bucking forward at the new sensation. Astarion pulls away to lick the remnants of your blood from his lips. He grins.

Your legs tremble with excitement and you wiggle your hips, silently begging to be touched again. Gale grants you temporary relief with another swipe, this time lower. He collects your slick on the tip of his finger and spreads it around your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles. You mewl in response to the gentle friction, rolling your hips upwards to push against his fingers. He backs off, shaking his head at you and you whine.

"Patience, my love."

"Yes, patience, pet."

Astarion smirks and licks a long stripe up the side of your neck, sliding a hand up into the back of your hair and giving your head a forceful tug back. You yelp in pain, gritting your teeth. The low growl that rumbles in Astarion's chest makes your hips buck upwards and Gale chuckles, fingers meeting your core once more. He circles his fingers around the outside of your clit, dipping down to collect more of the slick that's pooling beneath you now, a puddle forming on the sheets.

"Hm.. So messy. Just for us, Astarion."

Gale groans, sliding a finger into your aching cunt and you cry out into the night air, Astarion leaning in close to your ear to coach you through the sensations. He whispers softly, making your cheeks and chest flush deep red.

"That's it.. So good. So good."

You spread your legs wider for Gale, writhing in Astarion's tight grip. He hushes you, fingers tightening around your tangled locks. He pushes your head forward, forcing you to watch as Gale inserts another finger, pumping in and out slowly, not giving you any time to adjust to being filled by his thick digits. Gale grinds his hips into the mattress and moans at the small amounts of friction his leathers provide. Astarion watches intensely, eyes flicking from you, to Gale, and back again, his own erection straining painfully against his leathers. He reaches a free hand down and palms at his bulge. Gale curves his fingers upwards inside of you, your walls fluttering at the change of position and you melt into Astarion's lap now, moans silencing to strained gasps. Your mouth hangs open. Gods, he's torturing you. The pale vampling behind you releases his grip on your hair, smoothing the tousled locks back into place, his eyes fixed on Gale's hand now, digits pumping furiously in and out of your cunt. That knot tightens in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You grind your hips up against Gale's palm and whine his name loudly, hands now resting on Astarion's thighs and you use them as leverage to push yourself up further towards Gale.

Astarion leans back on his hands, perfectly content with watching the show. It's no secret that Astarion finds so much pleasure in watching you be pleasured. Whether it be by him, yourself, or someone else. The sight and sounds alone are enough to completely unravel him. You learned this during your encounter in the Underdark and you think about it often. The way he's comfortable just sitting back and watching Gale touch you. Gale has learned the same habit in the couple of weeks the three of you have lived together before the wedding. A few nights were spent with Astarion between your legs and Gale just watching. Enjoying. Savoring the moment. You always offered to reciprocate, and they both often refuse. This moment is no different.

"G-Gale, I'm so close.."

Gale leans in quickly, the flat of his tongue pressing firmly to your clit, rubbing back and forth against the swollen nub while his fingers continue to pump into your cunt, arousal coating his hand. Your hips find a steady rhythm and you grind upwards, pleasure bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, BURSTING inside of your gut. You gasp loudly, clinging to Astarion's legs on either side of you, riding the tidal wave of your orgasm as Gale continues to lick at you furiously. His fingers slow their motion and he carefully slides them out, your jaw falling open again at the sudden emptiness. Your walls flutter around nothing, swollen clit pulsating. You bring your knees to your chest, curling up into Astarion's abdomen, wanting nothing more than to be simply absorbed by him. He chuckles at the closeness and lies down on his side, tugging your back to his torso. He snakes his arms sleepily around you, Gale following suit to snuggle up to the front of you. Both men hold you and each other tightly, exchanging sleepy kisses and rubbing noses with one another. Your eyes meet Gale's and you mumble softly.

"Is there anything.. I can do? For you?"

Gale shakes his head, hand lifting to cup your still flushed cheeks and he strokes your high cheekbone with his rough thumb.

"Nothing at all."

He smiles down at you and you offer the same question to Astarion. He ponders for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He's never been asked what he wants. Not in situations like this, anyway. He contemplates his options. He could obviously ask you to pleasure him. Get on your knees and let him rut into your mouth, let him use your holes like any other woman that's ever lusted after him. He shakes his head and grins, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head.

"You've given me the one thing that no one else ever has, my love."

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion, turning your head to face him. Gale yawns, crawling out of bed to quickly check all of the curtains in the room, pressing any two together that he thinks might let in a little too much sunlight in the morning. He smiles to himself once each window is sufficiently covered and climbs back into bed, pulling a blanket up over the three of you. You watch Astarion for a moment before quietly asking.

"And what is that?"

He sighs happily, nuzzling his face into your warm neck, pressing you impossibly close to him. A quiet yawn escapes him and his lids flutter closed.

"A choice."

#bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale fanfic #gale fluff #gale smut #gale #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #gale x tav #gale x astarion #astarion x tav

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sundays-wing-piercing · 4 months

Note

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY this man got me feeling special and he doesn’t even to di anything but like a thought came to my head

what if he has an s/o who like he worships and love sso so so much but the s/o is a workaholic and tends to just pass out in random places due to lack of sleep :(( mans will be so worried for u, ready to bust down buildings to talk to ur idk supervisor or boss to lessen ur workload cause suddenly ur now turning to alcohol as an energy drink!!

one night they just lose their mind and have a breakdown while sunday rushes over to comfort them, telling them its okay and that hes always there for them, as he holds them in his arms letting them cry out their exhaustion.

no need to do if uncomfortable!!

Hun I AM OBSESSED WITH THE ONE'S WHERE SUNDAY IS LITTERALLY SO DEVOTED TO THE READER tis' an interesting concept.

I think at first he won't mind it that much since he's also quite overworked so you'll just find yourself at the unholiest of hours working while he also takes care of his own. But even he has his rest and when you start falling asleep all over the place to the point where he has to catch you man is basically begging for you to take a break and so, you do. But luck isn't on your side this time. Just as you were about to fall asleep you get a call from your boss and now you have even more work than before.

Even after countless of hours slaving away at your work you're nowhere near done. You're just trying to fufill your daily needs and even if you do get the work done no one seems to appreciate it and just assigns you more work. Dear Aeons when will you catch a break! And before you know it you start breaking into a fit of tears, catching the attention of your angel partner who runs immediately to your side, holding you close as your tears stain his clothing. He doesn't care he just wants to know why you're crying so much and when you vent to him all about your work....may the harmony have mercy on your boss because he won't.

It all started with just him giving your workplace a visit and going straight to your boss to peacefully sort it out with them. As much as he wants to absolutely rip their face off he holds his charming old smile. Afterall he is Sunday, the representative of The Family. Who wouldn't oblige to his very command especially when he orders it directly to them. And that's what happened. You got yourself some day offs and there he was serving you like the divine being he couldn't live without. He'll run you a nice warm bath and even wash you if you wanted him to. He'll cook you your favorite meals, buy you whatever snacks you're craving, hum you to sleep and even hold you while hes at it. Your wish is his command dear.

And if your boss returns you to the same unhealthy work routine then he won't hold back. He has what it takes to blackmail them, humiliate them, heck even take the business down. What about you tho? You can just sit back and relax! Enjoy every offering he gives to you. You don't need to work. You have him. You have him to please you, to serve you. He's yours afterall.

GEE WOWZERS THATS LONG that's what he said HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT FEEL FREE TO SEND ANOTHER ONE

#ai rants #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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supernaturalscribe67 · 9 months

Text

Favors

Words: 6,851

Pov: 3rd Person

Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader

Warning(s): Language, SMUT (18+), Rimming, Teasing, Male on Male penetration, brief orgasm denial, Bottom!Reader, Top!Crowley

Summary: (Y/N) is a well-known researcher and hacker in the hunting industry, dedicating his life to protecting innocent people all around the United States. What happens when the King of Hell comes to him with a problem he needs help solving and a deal that (Y/N) cannot turn down?

Request:

Hope you are having a good day/night

Omg I absolutely love the Crowley x older Winchester brother reader fic you did for me

I was wondering if I could request Crowley x Male reader smut

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I haven't written smut in so long, I hope you like it! Plus, this is my first time writing male/male smut, so feedback is really appreciated! MINORS DNI!!!!! Much Love!

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It was beautiful that morning. Light barely shone over the treeline, the warm colors faintly casting a reflection across the lake that sat outside of the small house. The ground was littered with red, orange, and yellow leaves, decorating it like some cheesy floor pattern on a Welcome Mat. The wind whipped through the branches, conducting the trees in a synchronized dance. Morning Doves sang their harmonious tune.

It was 8:30 AM. (Y/N) sat peacefully in the rocking chair that was nestled in the corner of the aged porch. A blanket draped over his lap, and a warm cup of steaming coffee in his grasp. It was mornings like that that gave him a sense of serenity, that reminded him of the world outside of his profession. That was why, in the mornings, he had one rule. One simple rule;

No phone calls before nine.

Granted, lives were at stake. Hunters all across the United States were taking on various jobs as he sat there, and some needed information quicker than others. He made an exception to the rule in case of an emergency, but nothing more. Most of his life was consumed with research and phone calls while he sat in a stuffy room near the back of the house. He knew that, when his reputation in the hunting community became well-known, he would need to set some rules and boundaries to allow himself some personal time. Some time to relax and reflect.

Not everyone followed those rules, however.

A buzz from his phone sounded next to him. It sat on a small, rusted round table next to the rocking chair. (Y/N)’s gaze turned towards the phone as it shifted with each violent vibration across the metal. He could feel the vibrating under his feet against the wood. Across the screen, Sam Winchester was written. A heavy, yet somehow content, sigh escaped past his lips as he reached over and picked up his phone. A part of him said that he should ignore it, but the other was telling him that it could be urgent. The Winchesters rarely got in contact with him before noon.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice deep and calm.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Dean and I were wondering if you could look something up for us?” Sam’s voice rang through the receiver, a little too cheery first thing in the morning, in (Y/N)’s opinion. They must have been up for hours by then.

“Is the information urgent?”

There was a long pause. “Well…”

“Mr. Winchester, what is my rule?”

Another long pause. “No phone calls before nine.”

“Exactly, unless there was someone actively dying and we were under a time constraint. Are we on a time constraint, Mr. Winchester?”

“Please, call me Sam.”

“Are we on a time constraint, Sam?”

Pause. “No. We just wanted to get whatever information we could before we headed to the police station to talk to the officers.”

“You and I both know you’re going to gather even more evidence about the case after the fact, so I think it would be wise to just go ahead and make your way to the police station. They might answer some of your questions, they might not. Hell, you might have even more questions for me by the time you’re done.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Uh…I guess I’ll…give you a call back when we’re done.”

“After nine, of course.” (Y/N) nodded slowly.

“Right. After nine,”

“Thank you, Sam. You know, I always love talking to you. You’re easier to communicate with than your brother.”

Sam chuckled deeply. “Thanks, I get that a lot,”

“Well, it’s true. Anyway, go talk to the police, and then let me know of anything you might need, alright?”

“Alright, bye,”

“Bye,” (Y/N) ended the phone call and replaced the phone in its original position.

He brought the cup of coffee up to his face, blowing cool air onto the surface. Steam curled around the mug as he took a sip. There were some people he didn’t mind receiving phone calls from in the morning, during his off hours. Sam Winchester was one of them. Always so polite when he had to remind him, he almost didn’t mind having to repeat himself over and over again. He knew how stressful the physical aspect of the hunting life could be, but Sam was one who never let his anger appear evident when they conversed that early in the morning. His brother, on the other hand, seemed to hold all of the anger for both brothers on his sleeve. (Y/N) had many unpleasant conversations with the older Winchester, but he also had some satisfying ones. In the end, he didn’t mind working with the Winchesters. They were the ones that called him the most. They were the ones who kept him busy and were appreciative when he was able to give them the information that they were in search of. That much he was grateful for.

“Hello, darling,” a scratchy, baritone voice broke the placid silence.

(Y/N) showed no physical reaction, yet he felt as if his heart had lept into his throat. It raced rapidly and he felt the familiar sensation of gooseflesh appear on his arms. He couldn’t necessarily blame it on the cool breeze. In front of him, Crowley stood, hands deep in the pockets of his black peacoat. A smirk was placed on his lips, covered by the beard that had grown out since the last time (Y/N) saw him.

He had met Crowley some years ago through the Winchesters. It was then he had gotten his first taste of the types of connections Sam and Dean had. When they originally told him about one of their contacts being the King of Hell, he was rather skeptical at first. Rumors travel fast in the hunting world, and (Y/N) knew all of them, especially the ones that star Sam and Dean Winchester. Yet, when he had initially met Crowley, he was pleasantly surprised. He never expected an individual with a clean, lavish appearance as he. He never expected the accent either. It had shocked him at first, but not negatively. In a way, he had always assumed that the King of Hell was going to be some grotesque monster that would seem as if they dwelled deep in a humid cave. He could blame that on his ignorance.

Since then, the handful of times he had interactions with the King of Hell, he would not say they had been horrible. Quite the opposite, they had been fairly pleasant. Crowley was cordial towards him, speaking to him in, what (Y/N) had first assumed was, a respectful tone, but later concluded that it would be more accurate to call it professional. Crowley was charismatic, a businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted out of people, and (Y/N) could see why they fell for it each time. Crowley knew exactly what to say and when to say it. That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.

(Y/N) sat the cup of coffee down on the side table beside his phone before he placed both of his hands in his lap, his fingers folded over one another. “Good morning, Crowley. How…unexpected of you to pop in this early in the morning.”

“Quite,” Crowley paused as he looked around, studying his environment. “I must say, I never expected a man such as yourself to own a place with such beauty.”

(Y/N) slowly nodded. “While I appreciate the backhanded compliment, I am currently off the clock. That is if you needed anything in the first place and didn’t just stop by for some idle chit-chat.”

“I never ‘chit-chat’. I did come by to ask for your…assistance with something.”

“As I have said, I am off the clock. If you need my help with anything, you can come back at nine o’clock.”

A smirk appeared in the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Check the time, darling,”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted over to his phone. Hesitantly, he reached over and clicked the screen, illuminating his background of deep purples and blues.

9:01 A.M.

As he looked back over at Crowley, he noted that the smirk was still there. Crowley shrugged, the ruffle of fabric filling the silence.

“It’s time to clock back in.”

(Y/N let out a sigh as he slapped his hands onto his knees, standing from his seat. He caught the blanket before it was able to fall off and folded it thrice. He then turned and laid it over the back of the rocker. He placed his phone into his pocket, then grabbed his coffee mug, the steam having dissipated since Crowley had arrived.

“Let’s head to my study, then,” he mumbled.

He walked past Crowley towards the screen porch door. Before he had the chance to grab it, Crowley opened it for him, startling (Y/N) for a moment. (Y/N) nodded his head.

“Such a gentleman.” He murmured and walked into the house, Crowley following soon after.

The foyer was small but tidy, so it seemed bigger than it was. The new floors glimmered in the morning light, and the walls were decorated with various pieces of artwork. (Y/N) took pride in renovating the older house, making it a place he was happy to call his home.

When he had found the house for sale, he was surprised, initially, by how little it cost. Seeing the state upon purchase made him understand the drop in price almost immediately. It took several months for him to turn the once run-down house into a livable place, one where he wasn’t afraid of catching asbestos poisoning every night. Since he completed the remodeling, he has made sure that the house is well-decorated, comfortable, and clean.

To the right of the foyer was the entryway into the kitchen. It wasn’t that large, but with one person occupying the house, he found it unnecessary to include more counter space in the renovation. To the left was the living room, well-lit with natural light in the morning and even brighter with the overhead ceiling fan at night, comfortable enough to seat many different people if he ever decided to have guests over to mingle. Ahead of Crowley and (Y/N), down the hallway, sat three doors, all of them ajar. Directly ahead was his bedroom, to the left was the guest bathroom, and to the right was his study, the one place where (Y/N) found he was spending most of his time throughout the twenty-four hours of the day.

(Y/N) kicked off his slides, placing them next to the front door, before replacing them with a pair of slippers. He then gestured down the hallway with his head.

“This way,” he said as he began to walk down the hallway.

The study was a masterpiece in it of itself. The walls directly beside the door and adjacent were lined with built-in bookshelves, courtesy of (Y/N) himself. On the shelves sat various centuries' worth of lore, categorized by decade, topic, and alphabetized by the last name of the author, if the author was known, that is. On the other wall sat large windows lined side-by-side, the curtains pulled back to allow sunlight in. Sitting at an angle in the middle of the floor was a heavy mahogany desk, similar to one that would be found in a lawyer’s or politician’s office. A rolling desk chair sat behind it, something cheap yet comfortable. On top of the desk were different books that were opened to certain pages that (Y/N) had left off on, a notebook with a ballpoint pen, an LED keyboard with a matching Bluetooth mouse, and a large, curved monitor with two smaller monitors on either side. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, a place where hunters had sat multiple times when visiting and discussing business with him.

(Y/N) rounded the corner of the desk and sat down in the office chair, the cup still grasped between his hands. He took another sip of his coffee as he scanned over the cluttered surface of his desk. As he moved books out of the way, his tongue poked into his cheek. Finally, with a triumphant ‘ah’, he pulled the brown coaster from underneath one of the book spines. He placed his mug on top of it, bent down, and turned on his computer.

“Alright, if you want to have a seat,” (Y/N) gestured to the chair.

“I prefer to stand.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and typed his passcode rapidly into his keyboard.

The three monitors lit up with work he had been focused on the day before. Carefully, he saved documents and exited out of files. When the files were all tucked away and his screens were cleared, he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“Now, what is this problem you’re having? And, please be quick about it, I have some hunters that are going to be calling me back to gather information for them as well.”

“The Winchesters can wait,” Crowley said as he stalked forward.

(Y/N) fought back the urge to ask how Crowley had known the Winchesters were the ones to call, for he knew the answer already.

“Now, I seem to be having a bit of a rogue demon problem.” Crowley began to pace around the room, his eyes seeming to study the different texts that lined the walls and the scenery outside.

“Don’t we all?”

“Mine’s a little different.”

“How so?”

“You see, I control the demons, right? Specifically, I control the deals that come in when humans summon us to the crossroads. I expect demons to persuade these people in some way to get these deals by possessing family members, friends, and the like, while others are sent when they are summoned to take these deals. It’s a rather layered process, too many demons, too many steps, but it works.”

“I see,” (Y/N) hummed as he folded his hands on top of the desk, back slouched.

“Recently, however, it has come to my attention that there have been several demons who don’t necessarily, well, like me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” (Y/N) mumbled, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Crowley ignored him. “And I’ve found out by a rather reliable source that a handful of demons have been rebelling against me. Some are just not persuading people as they are supposed to and running rampant in the street while others, the ones who are summoned, are taking these individuals' souls without giving anything in return. They mess with the deal.”

“Do you not see that as a win in your situation? You get their soul no matter what, Crowley.”

“Ah, you see, I do, but I am a man of my word.” He stopped and placed his hand on his chest. “When deals are made, they are not meant to be broken. They are taking their souls and sending them right back to the pathetic life that they came to fix. I don’t like humans as much as the next demon, but a deal is a deal, and it should not be messed with.”

“How…noble? What does this exactly have to do with me?”

Crowley reached into his peacoat, pulling out a sheet of folded white paper. He walked over and placed it on (Y/N)’s desk. On it was a list of locations and dates neatly written in calligraphy. Most of the locations were paired with a date from a couple of days ago, some a couple of weeks, and some were marked from that very day.

“This is a list of all known demon locations and times that they were last seen there. The crossroads demons I can deal with on my own, they will be harder for someone like you to find, but these are the demons that were supposed to be possessing family members and the such. They’re lower-ranked demons than others, so they lack the necessary powers to teleport, makes them easier to find.”

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” He gestured to the paper with his hands.

“Find the demons on that computer of yours, tell me where they are, and I will take care of the rest.”

(Y/N) slowly nodded. There had been many instances where he had been able to find the location of a monster for different hunters by hacking into various CCTV cameras across the country. Some places had more cybersecurity than others, but overall, it was a simple task, something he had picked up the first month or so after he started learning the art of hacking and coding. It wouldn’t take that long for him to track some of the demons.

“Why should I help you?”

“Think of it this way, darling,” Crowley walked over, stood behind the desk chair, and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder.

The violent buzzing interrupted anything Crowley was going to say. (Y/N)’s legs vibrated in time with the buzzes. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. Sam Winchester flashed across the screen. He held up a finger to Crowley.

“Hold on, I have to take this,” he said.

Just before he was able to accept the call, however, Crowley snatched the phone from his hand.

“Hey!”

“Ah ah ah,” Crowley tsked and wagged a finger. “We are in the middle of a deal.” He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket.

(Y/N) clenched his jaw. He held out his hand. “Give it back, Crowley.”

“Not until we finished our deal, darling,”

“I never said we had a deal.”

“Then it appears you’re not going to be getting your phone back.”

“Crowley,” he growled.

Crowley chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling. “So tense,” he smirked. “It must be hard. Being out here all by yourself. No ring on your finger, which means that you haven’t got a wife or husband. I’m guessing you don’t have a partner either, considering all you do is sit here and help other hunters.” Crowley slowly ran a finger over (Y/N)’s shoulder blades, eliciting a shiver from him. “How about this deal, then,” Crowley leaned down, his face merely inches from (Y/N)’s. “I get rid of some of your tension and you find the demons for me, deal?”

Crowley’s breath was hot against (Y/N)’s face. The closeness caused his stomach to churn. (Y/N) wouldn’t deny that Crowley was an attractive man - demon, he corrected himself. He had thought so since the first time they met, yet he knew the dangers of getting involved with demons. That was why a small part of him was weary of the Winchesters, seeing how easily they got along with the King of Hell. ‘Got Along’ wasn’t necessarily as accurate as ‘tolerated’. He corrected himself again. When Crowley spoke with that accent, and when his voice was deep and gravelly, it was almost as if (Y/N) was hypnotized.

That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.

“Crowley,” he breathed, unaware that his heart had begun to beat faster.

“The demons get killed, I get what I want, and I leave you more satisfied than you have ever been before,” Crowley’s hand slowly moved up and began to trace along (Y/N)’s jawline. His fingers stopped when he got to (Y/N)’s chin. He tilted his head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes, their noses brushing against one another. “Have we got a deal?”

Crowley’s eyes were just as hypnotic as his voice. It was as if (Y/N) was staring into an iced glass of whiskey. It was hard to believe that, behind those eyes, stood a dark entity who controlled the deepest, darkest depths of Hell. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, telling him that it was a bad idea, that he should retreat and reject the offer.

(Y/N) was completely mesmerized.

“Yes,” he whispered faintly.

The corner of Crowley’s lips curled upward. “Then let’s kiss on it.”

(Y/N) didn’t have a chance to respond before Crowley’s lips were on his.

It was heated, hungry, and (Y/N) was slightly ashamed to admit that it had taken his breath away. Ashamed to admit just how engrossed in Crowley’s charismatic attitude he had been. Swiftly, (Y/N) stood from his chair and he was pressed against the desk in an instant. Crowley’s hands worked their way underneath (Y/N)’s t-shirt. It wasn’t long before Crowley’s coat and (Y/N)’s shirt were on the floor. As Crowley reached behind him to grab at the backs of his thighs, (Y/N) pressed his hands firmly on his chest.

“Not here, not here,” he pulled back from his lips, panting from the lack of oxygen. “Let’s go to my room.”

Crowley smirked and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Lead the way, darling,” he pulled back.

(Y/N) was quick to pull himself away from the desk and turn to walk out of the room. His strides were long and silent, almost as if he was floating out of the room and towards his bedroom. Crowley followed behind him, moving just as fast if not a little bit faster. He tore off his tie and dropped it onto the floor as they entered the room. Their lips slammed into one another once more as they fell back onto the bed unceremoniously, their bodies bouncing.

(Y/N) was incredibly hard, he felt like a teenager on prom night. He tried to think back and remember the last time he had sex. Had it been two, maybe three weeks? Months. No. Two or three years, it had been. He had lost count. Crowley had been right, he had been so absorbed in his work that he had neglected the wants he never knew he had. The needs. He had found himself to be so uptight as of late that the lack of sex hadn’t been something he considered a factor with such a change of mood. Maybe the sex was just what he needed. It seemed that Crowley knew more about him than he realized.

(Y/N)’s primary goal was getting Crowley’s clothes off. He wanted to see him, wanted to take in every inch of him. Before he was able to grab at Crowley’s belt, however, Crowley pulled back and lifted a hand to stop him. Again, (Y/N) was breathless. He stopped and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Let’s skip the stripping, shall we?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker. His voice alone should have sent the sirens blaring and the red flags waving in (Y/N)’s head, telling him to stop, telling him that it was a bad idea, but all it did was deepen the lust and make his cock twitch in his boxers.

With the snap of his fingers, their clothes had vanished. Immediately, (Y/N) noticed the temperature change, causing his nipples to harden into stiff peaks. He wasn’t worried about his own body, however. His attention was all on Crowley.

He took his time to examine his lover. His eyes trailed. He noted the hair that was meticulously placed over his pecs, the curve of his stomach. Crowley didn’t have a six-pack, but he was nowhere near fat. A slight pudge was probably the best adjective to use. He spotted the tattoos almost instantly, something that came as a surprise to him but wasn’t unappreciated. Crowley’s happy trail started right below his belly button and trailed down to his pelvis, and the mere sight of Crowley’s cock made (Y/N)’s eyes go wide.

Crowley was huge.

Bigger than he had ever seen on a lover before.

To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. He never expected Crowley to be sporting a cock of that size. (Y/N) felt inept next to him. Yet, despite his unbelievable length, (Y/N) felt his mouth water and cock twitch at the thought of it being inside of him. Crowley chuckled.

“Like what you see?” He questioned.

“Yes,” (Y/N) breathed, although he knew the question was rhetorical.

Crowley’s chest rumbled as he leaned down and began to leave kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, down towards the valley of his pecs. He stopped at his nipples, giving each of them attention with small licks and a suckle. A gasp fell from (Y/N)’s lips as his hands occupied themselves with exploring Crowley’s body. (Y/N)’s mind was fogged over, the feeling of being that close to someone already so intense. He really did feel like a teenager.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Crowley purred as his lips traveled further down his body, ghosting over his stomach. “Almost disappoints me that I’m going to leave you a whimpering mess by the time I’m done.”

“Crowley, please,”

“Begging already, I see.”

Crowley’s lips moved down until they reached (Y/N)’s own happy trail. Just before he reached (Y/N)’s cock, he pulled back, earning a disappointed groan from the man below. The smirk on his face told (Y/N) that Crowley loved the effect that he was having on him. That it was boosting his ego, and if he had been in the right state of mind, he would have stopped right there. The King of Hell didn’t need more of a complex than he already had.

“Spread your legs for me.”

(Y/N) complied, legs parting as Crowley moved onto his stomach. He left kisses on (Y/N)’s inner thighs.

“Have you had anything in this pretty little hole recently?” Crowley asked.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he admitted.

“Then I guess I’ll have to open you up, won’t I? I don’t want to hurt you.”

It was an oddly sweet sentiment, coming from a demon. Something that a part of (Y/N) didn’t really expect. Yet the other part of him told him that it made sense with Crowley’s character. He was a businessman. He made deals and he kept them. He wanted him to feel good, and (Y/N) wouldn’t be satisfied with his part of the deal if he was in pain.

“I have lube in my nightstand,” (Y/N) spoke up. He could feel Crowley’s hot breath hovering over his exposed hole.

“I’ll get to it, darling,”

Crowley’s tongue lapped at his hole, and (Y/N) swore that he would come from that single lick. He couldn’t hold back the moan as Crowley’s tongue worked around the pink muscle, almost teasing it. The tip of his tongue slipped past the ring for a moment before retreating. Crowley’s arms wrapped around both of his thighs and seemed to pull him closer with godly strength. Then, when he was closer, Crowley’s wet tongue finally slipped past the tight muscle and wiggled its way into his hole.

A deep moan escaped past (Y/N)’s lips as one of his hands shot down and gripped Crowley’s hair. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, thankful for the pillow that was underneath him, thankful that he had decided to move to the bedroom instead of the study. He had concluded that the lack of sex didn’t make him feel like a teenager again, he was a teenager. Rather, it seemed he had a teenager’s lack of control. His cock was twitching, begging to be touched, begging for Crowley to wrap his hand around it and stroke. (Y/N) was too lost in pleasure to do it on his own, and it was just foreplay. Crowley was only preparing him for what was yet to come. If Crowley had him seeing stars already, he knew that Crowley’s prediction of him turning into a ‘whimpering mess’ would be accurate.

Crowley’s tongue was skilled. He reached places inside of him that (Y/N) didn’t even know existed. All too soon, he felt the familiar jerk of his balls, the tensing muscles begging for release. The knot in his stomach was forming.

“C-Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. I-”

Crowley hummed against him and pulled back as soon as the warning came to be. Visibly, (Y/N) relaxed, but his face expressed disappointment, much to Crowley’s amusement.

“Already close to release, and I haven’t even touched your cock yet,” Crowley teased, and the words caused (Y/N)’s cheeks to darken with blush. “Can’t have that. I want this to last. I want you to break.”

Crowley hovered over (Y/N) again, their noses inches apart. (Y/N) could feel Crowley’s cock brush against his, causing his cock to twitch violently. Again, Crowley chuckled. He turned his head and reached over to the nightstand, opening the small drawer. It wasn’t as cluttered as the top of (Y/N) desk, but he had to admit that it needed to be cleaned out. It didn’t take long to find the bottle of lube, though, barely used. When Crowley moved back, he kissed him. That kiss was softer, sweet, the complete opposite of the others they had shared.

He pulled away and sat up, leaning back on his heels as he uncapped the lube. He squirted a generous amount onto his right index and middle finger before he set the lube to the side, open and ready if he were to need more. He rubbed his fingers together to spread out the liquid before lowering his hand to (Y/N) wet, needy hole. His index finger began to circle it and he saw how (Y/N)’s cock twitched again. The smirk remained on his face.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly.

“Yes,” (Y/N) barely gave him time to finish the question. “Yes, Crowley, please,”

“I’ll never get over how sweet that word sounds.”

Crowley pushed one finger into him and the stars promptly returned. (Y/N)’s mouth hung open as if he were to say something, but nothing came to mind. Words didn’t exist anymore, only Crowley and his fingers. It didn’t take long for Crowley to begin to pump his finger into him, his dark eyes focused on (Y/N)’s face, intensely taking in every reaction he gave. Sweat began to glisten on (Y/N)’s brow, dripping down the side of his face and onto the sheet below. His hands were fisted at his sides, straining the bedding. When Crowley felt his hole loosen even the slightest, he added his middle finger.

After several seconds of having Crowley insert his second finger, the knot was back and forming inside (Y/N)’s stomach. It was tight and just kept getting tighter with each stroke. When Crowley’s fingers curled ever so slightly, (Y/N)’s body violently jerked and he had to hold onto the bed as he fought back the orgasm that was quickly approaching. He went to say something, but all that came out were moans and whimpers of pleasure. He didn’t trust himself to stop Crowley before his impending climax.

Of course, Crowley was observant himself and knew when to back away.

Crowley pulled his hand away from him, leaving his hole empty and his mind screaming for release. Crowley brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping them around his digits as he suckled the leftover lube and flavor off of them. He quirked a brow as he took his fingers out of his mouth.

“Strawberry flavored?” He questioned.

(Y/N)’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. His chest and face gleamed with sweat, ever more apparent because of the morning light that filtered past his blinds.

“It was all they had left.” He was able to mutter.

A deep chuckle rumbled within Crowley’s chest as he grabbed the lube from beside him once again. That time, he put some into the palm of his right hand and capped the bottle, setting it back onto the side table. He wrapped his hand around his cock and lathered it up with the lube. He hissed, jaw clenched at the cool temperature.

“You don’t mind raw, do you, darling?” He asked as he shifted in the bed so that he hovered directly above (Y/N) writhing body.

“No,” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “No, I don’t mind just, please, please Crowley.” His desperate cries would have normally made him embarrassed, ashamed of the mess he had turned into, but he couldn’t care less. His brain didn’t belong to him anymore. It belonged to Crowley. His body wasn’t his, it was Crowley’s. All of him belonged to Crowley.

And he was fine with that.

“I’ll go slow,” Crowley said. “Let me know if it’s too much for you to handle.”

It was too much to handle when Crowley was eating him out, but (Y/N) knew what he meant. He gave a quick nod of understanding. His hands immediately moved from the sheets to Crowley. One hand was placed on Crowley’s shoulder, while the other reached back, fingers entangled in the mess of brown hair.

One of Crowley’s hands was placed on the bed, holding himself up, while the other hand reached down and grabbed his cock. He guided it to (Y/N)’s hole and, when he felt comfortable with the positioning, he moved his hand and placed it on the other side of (Y/N)’s body. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of muscle with some resistance before he entered him.

(Y/N) wasn’t seeing stars anymore - he was seeing a whole galaxy. The slight painful strain mixed with bliss as Crowley pushed the head of his cock inside of him was almost too much to bear at first. He felt like his balls were going to explode with pleasure. His nails dug into Crowley’s shoulder and scalp as he continued to inch his way inside. Crowley studied (Y/N)’s face, the way his mouth hung open and eyes closed. When half of his cock was engulfed in his warmth, Crowley pulled back out a couple of inches before he thrust back inside. (Y/N) couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping his lips. Equally, as such, Crowley let out a deep, guttural groan.

“So tight, darling. So…fucking tight,” he growled out, sounding almost feral.

“M-More, Crowley, please, more,” (Y/N)’s voice had gone up in pitch and the need was laced throughout his tone.

Crowley didn’t need any more indication. His hips began to pick up in speed, slowly at first, but after a while of making sure that his lover wasn’t in any pain, he went faster. While (Y/N) wasn’t able to take all of Crowley’s length inside of him, what was able to fit resulted in a cacophony of moans that echoed throughout the room. The bed rocked, the frame squeaking underneath the pressure as Crowley rhythmically snapped his hips.

When (Y/N) had gotten used to the pleasure - ‘used to’ wasn’t the right phrasing, but rather adapted to it - he was able to open his eyes long enough to reach up, cup Crowley’s cheeks, and bring himself up to kiss him roughly. Crowley returned the kiss. Their tongues danced with each other. (Y/N) could taste a mixture of himself and the strawberry-flavored lube on Crowley’s tongue.

Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, Crowley’s cock brushing against his prostate. (Y/N)’s cock and balls jerked and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He pulled away, one of his hands falling to Crowley’s chest, which was equally as sweat-covered as his. It was difficult to find the strength to speak, at first, but he mustered up what little control of himself he had to do so.

“Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. Please, can I come?”

“Not yet,” Crowley sounded breathless. “I want to come with you.”

“Want you to come inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He moaned loudly as Crowley’s cock stroked his prostate again.

Crowley growled as his lips dove down towards (Y/N)’s neck, littering it with small kisses, teeth scraping over his skin.

“I can’t wait to fill you up. Can’t wait to make you mine,” Crowley growled.

(Y/N) did everything in his power to hold back his orgasm, the one thing he had been trying to reach all this time. It became harder and harder the more they went on. Finally, he felt Crowley’s thrusts start to sputter, and Crowley’s grunts and moans were getting higher in pitch. Crowley reached between their bodies, his hand finding (Y/N)’s cock and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts.

“Come.”

And that was all the permission he needed. (Y/N) came hard, cock spasming violently in Crowley’s hand and balls convulsing as he shot his load onto his and Crowley’s chests and stomachs. Planets, stars, galaxies, universes, it was almost as if (Y/N) was lost in time and space itself. If he didn’t know any better, he swore he would have passed out from the pleasure had it not been for Crowley keeping him grounded.

Following his orgasm, he felt Crowley still inside of him and, soon, felt the warm sensation of his load deep within his hole. They stayed there, interlocked with one another, their bodies completely frozen in time. What felt like ages later, Crowley slowly pulled out of him, a wet pop echoing throughout the room, before he collapsed beside him on the bed. (Y/N)’s arms fell beside him, his chest moving rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure.

As he lay there, post-orgasmic clarity set in.

He had fucked the King of Hell.

More importantly, he had fucked the King of Hell and liked it.

God, he was such a terrible hunter.

His eyes trailed over to Crowley, who was still recovering from his own orgasm. He could see faint, red scratch marks across his face, chest, and right shoulder. (Y/N) didn’t even realize his nails had dug into him until then. Crowley turned his head towards him.

“Well you weren’t the whimpering mess that I assumed you would be,” Crowley began. “But I’ll take begging any day.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll his eyes and he had found the strength to speak to be gone by that point. What was he even supposed to say to him? Thanks for the sex, I’ll go find your demons now? With one-night stands, he would always just get up, grab his clothes, and walk out of the motel room, but this was a little different. He was in his own home. Was he just supposed to kick Crowley out? That would seem a bit rude, wouldn’t it?

“Care for a cuddle?” Crowley’s words broke his train of thought.

“A what?” His voice had returned.

“A cuddle.”

(Y/N) snorted. “The King of Hell wants to cuddle.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question.

“I take care of my lovers, (Y/N). Aftercare is just as important as foreplay.”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but found, again, that the words were lost to him. He just gave a simple nod and the two of them moved closer together. Crowley wrapped an arm underneath his shoulders and over his waist, pulling their naked bodies close. (Y/N) placed one of his hands on Crowley’s torso, his head lying against his chest. A part of him was expecting to hear a heartbeat echo in his ear, but the lack thereof only reminded him of his sins. They sat in silence for a while, embracing one another. Crowley’s hand slowly rubbed (Y/N)’s hips, and it made him realize just how sore he was going to be for a while.

He didn’t care.

“You know,” Crowley finally spoke up. “If you ever become too tense, you can always give me a call. I have no problem giving in to your needs.”

“I’m not that desperate,” (Y/N) mumbled.

Crowley chuckled, and (Y/N) could feel the vibration against his fingertips and cheek. “I beg to differ, darling, with the way you were just begging for release.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated up. He knew what he had done was wrong, but whoever said that hunters had to be perfect? Or right, for that matter. No one had gotten hurt - maybe he would hurt for a while after this, but that was beside the point - and demons were going to be hunted down as a result of their deal. Crowley wasn’t a selfish lover, quite the contrary. He was the best that (Y/N) ever had. He was only human. Despite the moral aspect of it all, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have someone like Crowley just a call away.

For his needs.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

#Supernatural #supernatural #SPN #spn #Supernatural x Reader #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #SPN x Reader #Crowley Macleod #Crowley x Reader #Crowley x Male!Reader #Male!Reader #Supernatural Scribe #Supernatural Smut #Supernatural x Male!Reader #SPN x Male!Reader #Crowley Macleod Smut #Crowley Smut

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frank1nsaint · 4 months

Text

Franklin Part 4

Warnings: Use of curse words and N-word

As expected Franklin did indeed figure out who approached you, what shocked you was how quick he was able to figure it out. You hear rumors about their disappearance, beatings and/or shootings either way you don't see them around anymore in the following weeks. The more you thought about it the more scared you got because either one of them could put things together and come for you or they were actually dead and you can't decide which fate you feared most. You spent some time looking over your shoulder afterwards.

On top of that you had your own personal shit to deal with, you couldn't figure out which stung more Franklin lying to you and playing you or him moving on like you meant nothing. You heard about him going back to Melody fooling with her and with other girls from different blocks. Brenda, Keisha, who else? You had no beef with them, you caught a glimpse of one of them once when Harmony dragged you to a party, tired of your pity party.

“Fuck!” You complain to yourself wiping your tears away while trying to focus at work. You had just stepped away from a patient's room to get them water and now at the fountain, you were fighting back against your tears but failing. You rush to the bathroom to calm down.

“Maybe you like him more than you think?” your mind Replays Harmony’s comments

“What is wrong with me?” You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror

You didn't want to admit it to yourself that you did indeed like Franklin and you were pissed he played you. A long time had passed between your break up with your ex and Franklin's date. You forgot how much you actually missed getting attention from a guy. And Franklin’s attention was a breath of fresh air and suffocating at the same time. When he looked at you his eyes never left you. You remember blushing so much at the fact that he actually paid attention he was present in all the conversations.

You take in a deep breath “okay enough!” you scold yourself, a small pep talk “you got this! Room 5 still needs water, 12 needs blankets and another gown, and room 19 wants something to eat“ You say to yourself as you read down your list. The rest of your shift you force yourself to focus on work and nothing else. It was for the best anyway. It was best if you two just didn’t try to pursue each other.

School, work, home, work, school, home. Your life returns to its norm, finally after you stop feeling sad for yourself you fall back into your routine. You have 3 semesters remaining from getting your general studies degree. You were so close you could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

However tonight was a girls night, it was your idea to make it a girls night, surprising Harmony in the process. You look at your watch Harmony and LaShay were supposed to be coming down from Sean's house the three of you were going to the Prince concert downtown and the way this was the concert of your lifetimes to date so you needed them to hurry the fuck up or traffic would have you all missing the show.

“Shit!” you grumble to yourself, as you grab your purse and keys you had to go rush them out or you three two would be fighting over this concert

You don't bother to knock on the door, instead walk into the house full of men. Franklin's men? Maybe Leon's? Acquaintances looking to make a buck? Who knows you didn't know them well enough to care, you didn't want to either.

“Damn you be walking into people's cribs like that, no knocking?” one of them jokes

“Shut up! Where's Harmony and LaShay?” you were not in the mood

“Yo Shay! Harmony!” he shouts

“What?” you hear Harmony’s voice over the music

You walk in further into the house

“Oh hey Y/N!” Lashay greets as she rounds the corner

“Hey!” you return the greeting looking her up and down

“I'm ready girl!” she chuckles noticing your mood

“HARMONY! “ Lashay calls to her

“WHAT?”

“YOUR COUSIN HERE!”

“Y/N?!” You see her head poke out the door “Hey girl i'm almost ready!” she says noting your expression you knew she was the culprit

You sigh hoping she was telling the truth “Hey how y'all doing?” you wave and ask as you look around the room

A round of greetings go around the room. You don't spot him at first but as soon as one of the men moves out of the way you two make eye contact for a few seconds

“So y’all going to that Prince concert?” you hear another guy ask

“If Harmony hurry’s the fuck up! HARMONY! HURRY IT THE FUCK UP!” you complain

“I’M COMING!”

“Damn!” He chuckles “I didn't know you were mean Y/N”

“Yea Louie already on her way with her homegirl!” Jerome comments

You roll your eyes “Lucky her”

You turn your attention to LaShay, you both spend time complimenting each other’s outfits. From your peripheral you take in his posture on the chair, legs wide open man spread to the max going over details on what looked like the city map. You turn your body to avoid your eyes drifting slowly to him.

There's a silence that takes over the room, minimal chatter, and music playing. You feel eyes on you and choose not to acknowledge it. You and LaSshay were not supposed to be there they were discussing privy information if Harmony would just get the fuck dressed. You hear heels clicking down the hall and you couldn't be happier. You 3 say your goodbyes before making it to your car with a promise to Sean and Dreads you would be bringing their girlfriends back to them safely.

A part of you silently envied them, lucky bitches had men looking out for them but tonight was not the night to lick your wounds tonight was the night to see Prince in person have a good time dance, drink, sing till you lost your voice and that's what you did.

You're later than expected but you make it back to Sean's house eventually, again LA traffic was no joke and it seemed like the entire city made their way to this concert. You and Harmony grab Lashay and make your way into Sean’s house. The house was still full. Instead of the city map you see beer bottles and cans on the table. You quickly scan the room and don't see Franklin. You sigh in relief you always felt exposed to him.

“She can lay in the spare bedroom” Harmony says as Dread’s grabs an arm

“I got her” Dreads says picking her up taking her from both of you

“Damn yall must have had fun!” Sean comments giving Harmony a kiss on her cheek

“YEA I’M SURE THEY DID!” you hear Louie laugh

You both turn to find her “Louie, how'd you get here before us?” Harmony asks as you follow her towards the sound of laughter

She stood in the kitchen with Jerome and some of Franklin's men. “Girl by that last song I was walking out the door. You know how LA traffic is” she speaks over the music

You shoot your cousin a look she had insisted you guys sit for a moment before leaving still awestruck from Prince

“Sorry” she mouths to you

“Alright I'm gonna go home” you say “goodnight y'all” you say turning to leave

“Y/N!” you hear before feeling a soft grip on your hand when you turn to look back you see Franklin with that fox smile you had failed to scan the kitchen thinking he was gone you should have, why was he always in the cut somewhere?

You glance down at your hands for a split second “Oh! Hey Franklin!” you greet as he pulls you closer leaning against the counter

It felt like all eyes were on you but in reality it was just Franklin's there he goes again once his gaze was fixated on you there was no escaping. You give him a light hug damn he smelled good you think to yourself

“You look good!” he says to you

“What ?” you say motioning to your ear “I can't...”

He pulls you in even closer, leans down to ear level “I said you look good!” he had analyzed your outfit from earlier, lilac dress, cut right about your knees, deep v cleavage in the front, gold accessories and heels. He noticed the stares around the room, and couldn't help but feel the bite of jealousy

“Thanks Franklin!”

He missed hearing his name roll of your tongue

“Can we talk?”

“Oh!” you take a step back to look up at him this was unexpected, now you were unsure of him being so close you were sure you smelled like a mixture of perfume, hairspray, cigarettes (from LaShay chain smoking), and sweat

He looks at you gauging your reaction “No time like the present” he adds

“Sure” you nod he had yet to let go of your hand as he pulled you through the crowded kitchen towards the back patio

You glance at Jerome who had a smirk on his face and when you turn to find Harmony she's grinning. Was this a set up? He still doesn't let go of your hand until he closes the kitchen door leaving you two alone outside taking in the cool night you're glad for the breeze.

“Shit didn't know it was this cold here” he begins to shrugs off his jacket

You put your hand up to stop him “It's okay Franklin feels good out here!” the house was hot or you were still hot from carrying Lashay up the steps

He stops and rolls his shoulders back. He watches you take a seat on the steps of the patio, Sean didn't have any outdoor furniture so the only place to sit were the steps he follows suit and sits next to you. You were close enough that you could touch him but he was far enough that your bodies were not touching

“You look beautiful tonight” he compliments again

You giggle nervously “I know you told me Franklin”

He smiles “Wanna make sure you heard me”

“I did thanks feet hurt though” you say looking down at your feet

His eyes follow, looking at your feet as well “I can rub your corns for you” he offers

You shove his shoulder and laugh “fuck you nigga I don't have corns”

He laughs along with you “my bad! my bad! I know that pinky toe screaming though!” you roll your eyes in response “A nigga can't even offer to do something nice!”

You chuckle and look down at your feet he wasn't wrong you're sure your pinky died tonight

The laughter dies down and an awkward silence takes over

You begin count to backwards from 100 internally if you got to one you would wish him well and go home (‘33’) you count “Im sorry?” you say as you realize he was speaking

“I wanted to apologize to you” he repeats

“Oh it's...”

He interrupts you “Nah it was fucked up the truth is I didn't ask you out for no bet. The bet was just the extra push I needed”

You look at him “Push?”

“Yea I was nervous” he confesses

You make a face “Nervous?!”

“Yea!” He turns to face you “what? a nigga can’t get nervous?”

“No I just didn't think you would be” you say softly

“Well I was!” he defends “You're beautiful and as far as I can tell it's like every nigga who ain't got a girl looking at you”

“Ohhh” you feel flustered and look away

You hear him exhale “anyway I wanted to let you know I was being genuine during our date and I'm apologizing for hurting your feelings I didn't think I had snitches in my crew but thats not the point I fucked up”

“Thanks Franklin I accept your apology” you smile at him

He smiles back. The awkward silence is back

You look down and notice his scarred hand. He must have been in a fight recently. Without thinking you grab it and run your fingers across his knuckles and reality comes crashing down when you hear an argument erupt. You both instinctively look back you turn and face each other and smile awkwardly

“I'm sorry” you say noticing you still his hand still in your hold his returning it to its original spot

Franklin puts it back in your hands “It's cool”

The silence returns

(‘Don't do it!’ you speak to yourself ‘don't fucking’) “What would you do?” (‘you stupid hoe’)

“Hmm?” he hums

You distract yourself with his hand again also to keep the full grown butterflies in your stomach at bay “If it was you” you speak slowly “what would you do?”

He closes his hand on your fingers. You feel your heart race waiting for his response not wanting to make eye contact because anyone with two brain cells wouldn't even ask that question let alone entertain the idea of a second chance...Right?

He moves closer, your bodies are now touching you still haven't looked up at him. The embarrassment was too strong.

It takes him a moment to think “Honestly” you hold your breath and immediately look up glad he wasn't looking you but looking ahead “I don't know Y/N” he answers truthfully he turns to face you “I don't know I can't tell you”

You return a half smile and look away “thanks for being honest Franklin”

Silence returns for a moment before you decide to loop your arm around his and lay your head on his shoulder “So what if we take it slow?” you propose

“Slow?”

You look up at him “Yea slow but like snail pace slow”

He hums and smirks “I wouldn’t mind that”

You face away hiding your smile “Okay” you say softly. It feels like immense pressure has been released from your body. Instead of fighting against his pull you just succumbed to it. This felt right, it felt like this is what it should be.

Franklin wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to him, you look up at him, and there it was again his intense stare, one hand reached and pushed your hair out of the way so he could see your face

In a hushed voice he says “Snails pace?” he confirms

“Yea” you whisper back while nodding, with shallow breaths, heart racing as you watch him inch closer thumb caressing your cheek

“Come'ere” he whispers, hand gently pulling your face towards his before planting a soft kiss on your lips. He sighs into the kiss releasing the tension he was holding onto as well he pulls away leaving lingering pecks on your lips “okay gorgeous”

You blush and roll your eyes “here we go Casanova”

He chuckles before kissing you again “mmmm” he moans “I could get used to this” he says once he pulls away

You hear more commotion again “we should get back you got to lay down the law or they gon shoot each other”

“Stupid mothafuckas” he grumbles standing up and holding his hand out

You giggled as you stood up “be nice”

He smacks his lips at your comment “Got goosebumps talking bout you ain't cold here” he says draping his jacket over you

“Oh no I'm good Frank..”

“I wasn't asking” he interrupts you while he pulls it around your shoulders and pulls you closer

“One more” he says before leaning down and kissing you

You smile into the pecks and he does the same

“Whatchu blushing for?” he teases you shake your head and turn to look away “Let's get you outta here” he takes hold of your hand and pulls you through the crowd

“I know you idiots not fightin’ over no damn cards!” he comments once he finds the commotion

There's a slight silence before the room erupts in laughter and Franklin chuckles in response

He walks you to your car you give him a hug, not wanting to let go, he gave good hugs

“Here” you say trying to shrug off his jacket

He stops you “Hold it for me”

“Kay”

“Page me when you get home”

“Kay”

He opens the door for you “Drive safe gorgeous” he says with one last kiss to your forehead

“Stay safe” he nods and closes the door for you

Authors Note: Feedback is much appreciated. Please reblog, comment, and like just don't plagiarize

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