#solely because I want to make out with him...while intoxicated

[mrsoharaa]

Giggling while drunkenly, messily, making out with Miguel is what I could use right about now ngl. 😔

一 ✿

Like you both just return home from a vibrant, lovely fun night out. A few drinks in and neither of you can get your needy hands off from one another.

His large, rough palms would roam up and down the venture of your curvy body, while yours trace up and down the strut of his firm, wide chest to the vast structure of his broad shoulders. Eventually your little fingers would curl up into the back hairs of his beautiful chestnut tresses.

His hungry lips would messily lap over yours with such inaccuracy and drive, sloppily mangling over yours and tripping occasionally over his large feet while still latching onto your hips. You'd break out into small fits of genuine giggles, feeling his warm full lips constantly try to stick onto your own, only to feel them slip past the velvety skin on either onto your flushed cheeks or your cute chin.

Your nails would weave gently into his wavy strands, tucking and tugging playfully as his frustrated grumbles would seep against your warm, soft flesh. Adding on to the cute little chortles that erupt from you. He's too cute.

His looming body would pin your back against the wall by the door.

"M-Miguel- you're b-being too *hic* frantic" you'd hiccup a small chuckle, feeling the warmth of his plush lips crease into the juncture of your jawline and neck. His hot breath permeating into the lush of your simulated skin.

"¡Ay, coño!...n-not frantic enough" his words slur out into rambled mumblings, hands pushing you more steadily, firmly against the solidity of the wall behind you, hips connecting with yours as his lips gradually find their way to the corner of your own. You'd simply giggle at his retort.

Heaves out another heavy, hot breath as he ghosts his lips just centimeters away from yours. Lidded irises of deep scarlet lazily, longingly, gazing down at you. Watching and noting every simple, little detail that was you.

Raises his left hand up to drape steadily around the structure of your neck, keeping you still against his weighted figure and the wall nestled behind you. Your hazy eyes finally meet his, a shimmer of intoxicated desire and endearment drowning your beautiful optics.

"Such a pretty l-laugh...you're so p-pretty, mi araña bonita" his breath husks heftily, leaning in closer to you as he pushes at the back of your neck to mold into his fevered lips. Strongly.

With added friction and steady firmness, Miguel made sure that his lips stayed connected with yours at all times. Swindling his tongue into the moisten cavern of your mouth, as he hums in delight to your acceptance for his sudden intrusion. His heart plummets every time he listens to a genuine giggle or muffled moan resonate from the depths of your throat.

Makes him become more needy and touchy with you.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1260 words

this is part one of this blurb! the next part will be smut! this was supposed to one whole blurb, but unfortunately, i can't stop adding details

A week had passed since that toe-curling, heart stopping kiss with James, yet the memory clung to you, refusing to loosen its grip. Every moment replayed in your mind—the way his breath had mingled with yours, the warmth of his lips, the intoxicating mix of hesitation and desire that had crackled between you. It was impossible to shake, no matter how hard you tried to push it to the back of your mind.

But life, as it often does, had intervened. Work had been intense for both of you. His late nights at the office, followed by early morning school drop-offs, and your endless deadlines and marathon meetings had drained you both, leaving little room for anything else—especially the conversation you so desperately needed.

But you were hoping tonight would be different. He’d asked if you could watch Henry, and you’d never refused him before. And you weren’t about to start now.

“Darling?” Henry mumbled, his voice carrying that endearing tone that always made you smile. As he grew older, the nickname was losing its childish lisp, becoming clearer and more deliberate with each passing day. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, knowing it would bring you to tears. And as much as it weighed on you, you couldn't even begin to imagine how James was feeling.

“Yeah, my love?” You hummed, your eyes still fixed on The Rescuers playing on the TV. Henry had insisted on watching it in James’s room because he wanted to “see the mice all big.” At first, you hesitated, unsure if being surrounded by James’s scent was a good idea. But Henry’s excitement was impossible to resist, and you found yourself giving in, despite your nerves.

“When is daddy back?”

“Um,” You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Soon I would think.”

“Oh.” Henry murmurs, shifting closer to cuddle into your side, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp yours. The two of you are nestled under the dark duvet, surrounded by the seven stuffed animals he insisted on bringing along. “I miss him,” he whispers, his voice tinged with quiet sadness.

“I’m sure he misses you too.” You say, offering him a gentle smile. He looks up at you with those unmistakable eyes—his father’s eyes—brown and sweet, carrying the same warmth that James’ have. His dark curls fall messily across his forehead, a mirror of James’s unruly hair. Even the curve of his smile, so innocent yet so familiar, pulls at your heart. It’s impossible not to see James in every feature, every expression, and every little gesture Henry makes. 

All you can think about is James.

“Do you miss daddy?” Your lips part, flustered and caught off guard by the question. For a second you debate lying, but you realize there’s no point. 

“Yes, I miss him too.” You finally murmur, and Henry’s face lights up with a grin, as if he’s just heard the most wonderful thing. He turns his gaze back to the TV, his attention returning to the movie, while he snuggles his stuffed dinosaur tightly in the hand that isn’t holding yours. The sight of him, so content and secure, tugs at your heart.

The movie has long finished and another has begun, but you’re oblivious to it all. Henry is fast asleep, nestled into your side, and you’re not far behind. Your focus is solely on threading your fingers gently through Henry’s dark curls. The rhythmic motion that had soothed him to sleep now lulls you as well, your eyes growing heavy with each tender stroke.

“Hey.” James murmurs with a warm, inviting smile, immediately drawing your gaze to the doorway where he stands. His white button-up shirt is casually open at the collar, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and as he crosses his arms, the fabric tightens over his biceps, accentuating their firm definition. Your eyes slowly trace down to his forearms, where the veins are subtly prominent. The combination of his relaxed stance and the his snug shirt makes your pulse quicken.

You resist the urge to fan yourself.

You swallow hard, struggling to pull your gaze back up. “Hi,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grins, and you know instantly he’s caught you. “What are you two doing in here?” He asks, walking further into his room, glancing down at the stuffies with a soft chuckle

“Henry missed you,” You say softly. “That and he wanted to watch a movie on the big TV.”

“Of course he did.” James says with a soft, knowing tone. He rounds the bed and settles next the side closest to Henry. With a gentle touch, he brushes a few stray curls from his son's forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment. Then, leaning down, he places a tender kiss on Henry’s forehead.

“I’m going to put him to bed.” James says softly, his voice soft as he looks up at you from his kneeling position by the bed. You nod quickly, your words caught in your throat.

You watch as James moves with practiced ease, sliding one hand tenderly behind Henry’s back and slipping the other under his knees. He lifts him carefully, his movements gentle yet confident, raising Henry up and off your chest. As he does, Henry lets out a soft whine, his small face scrunching up in a mix of sleepiness and longing. With a tiny, outstretched arm, he reaches toward you, his fingers stretching as far as they can go, desperate to grab you.

“No.” He huffs, his eyes opening the tiniest bit to glance up at his dad.

“It’s bedtime.” James says softly, drawing Henry close to his chest and gently reaching down to grab the stuffed dinosaur Henry clings to. 

“No! But I—” Henry protests, wriggling in James’s arms. He twists around, casting a desperate look over his shoulder at you. “I want mummy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes dart to James, wide with shock. He mirrors your surprise. With one arm securely wrapped around Henry��s squirming body, he struggles to keep his son from wriggling free. Henry’s little face is flushed with frustration, his eyes locked onto yours as he reaches out with tiny, pleading hands, desperate for your comfort.

“Do you want to say goodnight to mum before bed?” James asks quietly, leaning down to speak into Henry’s ear. Henry stops squirming instantly and nods. Gently, James places his son back onto the bed, and Henry immediately flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck. He collides with you with a soft thud, and you hear James mutter about being gentle with you.

“Goodnight,” You say whisper, one arm holding him to you and the other holding the back of his head. “I love you bunches. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Your eyes flicker up to meet James’ who is watching you with an indescribable look.

“Love you.” Henry mumbles, the sleepiness in his voice affecting his pronunciation. Then he leans back and plants a big kiss on your forehead, mimicking the affectionate gesture he’s seen his father make so many times. You laugh quietly and press a kiss on his nose in return. Satisfied, Henry crawls back to his father and lifts his arms. James picks him up, his gaze lingering on you.

“I’ll be right back.” James says softly before heading to Henry’s room. As he walks away, Henry peeks over his shoulder and waves a tiny hand at you.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

part two here!

[seresinhangmanjake]

He Will Hope

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd is obsessed with his bride from the moment he sees her, but on their wedding night he finds out she might not feel the same. (Angst, but hopeful ending)

Warnings/Notes: Feyd POV, pre-smut and smutty-ish intentions (if that makes sense? idk, ignore me), instantly-in-love Feyd, unwanted marriage, baby(heir) talk, typos. Can absolutely be read alone, but also serves as something of a prequel to Do You Love? (same world, but big time skip), so I tried to kind of echo that with specific lines.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re so…beautiful. He didn’t expect a peace offering to be this perfect. Yes, he knew his bride would be a daughter of a Great House, but you are one of many sisters and Feyd did not imagine your father would send him the loveliest of his bunch. 

It’s a loveliness that has you sticking out like a sore thumb on Giedi Prime. Hair and makeup and wedding dress styled in the traditions of your home world glue all eyes to you as you walk down the aisle, and he likes that there is so much attention on you. It makes his inability to cease staring more acceptable. 

Harkonnens are not meant to be enthralled by their brides at first glance. Discouraged, even, from caring about their appearance at all. ‘Brides are meant for breeding,’ his uncle told him as a child, ‘It does not matter what they look like.’ But he was not told what to do or how to act in the event the bride makes his heart involuntarily skip a beat. 

Maybe if your heart was reacting in the same manner navigating this new feeling would be less intimidating, but the tears streaming down your cheeks suggest that's far from the case. You can barely look at him and he’s not sure you would be able to speak if it was required of you, but thankfully, verbal agreements are not part of marriage ceremonies on Giedi Prime. 

When he takes hold of your hand and slices your palm with his knife, you give no indication of pain. You are supposed to do the same to him but you seem nervous enough as it is, so he makes the three-inch long slash in his skin for you before pressing his palm against yours. The mixing of blood is a swearing of fidelity from husband to wife and wife to husband; a tradition and promise that wore down with time as concubines became more common. But he will not do that to you. You will be his one, his only, and if he can help it, he will be yours. 

He barely detects the words declaring you married. They're dull and bubbly in his ears as if he's sunk under the surface of his bath water because he's too focused on your mouth. Your plush lips are pink and plump and glistening, and he wants them. So he takes them before he's told to do so.

You taste different than the Harkonnen women he’s had. There is salt from tears, but something distinctly you seeps through. It's sweeter. A bit intoxicating. The kind of taste that collars and leashes the unruliest of men, and he wants more. Much more. But there are too many eyes, some of which are full of relief at the match finally solidified while others are prying and suspicious. If he keeps his lips on yours too long, questions will begin to form from certain witnesses—Does he like her? Does he want her? Can she be used? Can she control him?—and the answer will be plainly obvious.

When he breaks the kiss, your eyelashes flutter with the gentle opening of your eyes and he knows then that nothing—no convincing from advisors, no threats from his uncle, no hatred on your end—could ever have him willing to detach himself and use you for the sake of an heir only to discard you later. You are his wife now, you will be the Baroness upon his uncle’s death, and he will protect you from anyone who values you for the sole purpose of providing a child. 

—

He sees that your assigned servants have quickly learned to manage your hair and clothing. By the time they deliver you to him, the pins have been removed from the twist on your head, letting the strands hang loose to frame your face, and you’ve been unstitched from that heavy gown to be dressed in night clothes from your home. He provided you with a nightgown, so he wonders if wearing the thin dress was your choice or your parents' idea to make you undeniably enticing, but either way, it’s effective. 

What drapes over your body is nothing like the opaque blacks and straight lines of Harkonnen attire. It's intricate both in color and design; flowing fabric that shimmers when you make the slightest movements and, at the moment, does little to hide your shape and curves. 

As you stand in front of him, patiently awaiting instructions, he can only stare at what’s on display. Pebbled nipples, a plane of smooth skin down to your navel, your slit and the folds between your legs—he wants it all. All of you. Now. Here. Wherever he can have you. 

Rising from the chair where he’d been waiting, he dissolves the space between you. His arm snakes around your waist. His hand slides across your cheek to the back of your head. Lips slam into yours, chests meeting despite that sliver of fabric, and he tastes that taste again, instinctually feeling a need to lift his chin, bare his neck, and let you tighten that collar.

It takes you a few seconds but when your lips start to move, he kisses you harder, pulls you closer, weaves his fingers through your hair and lightly tugs. He guides you backward toward the bed, skin warming at the image of sliding the nightgown down your body. That warmth fans into pure fire and he can’t stop kissing you, can’t stop taking from you, collecting what little you’re willing to give him. Two of his fingers tuck themselves under one strap of the nightgown and begin to slip it down your shoulder. 

But then he stops. 

He stops because your lips freeze.

He stops because you're starting to shake under his fingertips.

He pulls back to look at you and it’s undeniable, so terribly undeniable, and he feels a bit ill. “You don’t want this,” he states. 

You don’t answer; you just stare up at him with those doe eyes that he can now see are full of fear, and his heart squeezes. His gut tightens. He suddenly has the urge to throw things, break things, watch things shatter to pieces because you don’t want him. His own wife doesn’t want his touch and he does not like this—not at all—but you’re scared, and he doesn’t like that even more. 

Sighing, he resets the strap on your shoulder, drops his hands from your body, and steps away. 

“I'll leave you alone,” he says. But as he passes by you, you grab onto his wrist. 

“We have to,” you rush out. “They'll know if we don't.”

He shakes his head. “They won't know anything that happens between us unless I allow it,” he tells you.

“B–But they expect an heir.”

“Yes. And eventually, we will have to produce one. That does not mean we have to share a bed tonight if that is not what you want, and it's clear that is not what you want,” he says a little too harshly. He isn’t trying to be snippy, none of this is your fault, but it hurts, and not in the way he enjoys.

You suck in a sharp breath as if preparing to argue, but then something shifts in your eyes. Instead, you say, “Where will you go?”

“The adjoining room,” he answers, nudging his head to the door on the opposite wall: the room for the concubines that he will never take. You turn to get a look.

“Oh,” you swallow. “O-Ok.” 

He grants himself a few more moments to study you, to soak in your soft and delicate features and the swollen lips he cannot have before he walks away, leaving you behind for the bed he had no intention of ever sleeping in. 

When he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder to get one last look. You’re facing away from him, sitting on the mattress with your head low, your back arched forward and arms wrapped around your middle. You look small like that, slowly huddling into a ball, and he’d do anything to make it stop. Because you are his. His wife. His na-Baroness. He’s well aware he’ll fall for you in no time—it’s already begun—and he wants you to be happy with him. 

But you're not. And that already threatens the predictability of your future together. These foreign feelings he has for you are not guaranteed to be requited; something he isn't sure how to accept, and yet he may not have a choice. He cannot force your affection. He cannot demand you grow to love him. All he can do is try and hope that one day, he will win you over.

So that is what he does.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t

[anantaru]

DAY 28 — VAMPIRE AU

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — diluc

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, vampire au, reader is a little delulu, mentions of blood & blood drinking, rough and very passionate

vampire diluc who has never experienced a real, centered moment of happiness before meeting you— or at least not without turning into a cruel, evil monster, whose intention was to drain the blood of others.

but now he revels in your beauty, and he thinks you're intoxicating, tainting your mind with his small compliments.

when you see him, you cannot help yourself but feel frightened, yet also excited— and you wonder if something has been wrong with you all along, especially when you let him get closer to you, the cold breeze outside your window bristling over the dry leaves as you're solely focusing on the view in front of you, your breathing continuing to escalate as he sinks into your warmth.

vampire diluc who hides his face in your neck as his cock drags with a lack of purpose other than thrusting a maddening fusion of thrill and pleasure into you, your eye sight becoming blurred each moment you taste his roughness in your body with his erection twitching within your walls in searing need to release— for a solid minute, he ponders and caresses the sensitive flesh on your neck, his sharp canines like a feather crossing over the skin.

vampire diluc knows you would let him do it, meaning you'd approve of him tasting your blood on his tongue— and it somewhat terrifies him, actually, that you're willing to go through that for him. there was a small tug on your hips, then a squeeze, with the scarlet haired pushing you into him before he slows his movements for a bit, "tell me if it hurts," he mutters finally, "i cannot hold myself back.. any longer," his voice webbed in grit and stones that you're vibrating all over the second he mouths wet spots over your neck.

"i will," you whisper back, watching him nuzzle his face closer, "i want this.. want you," an instinctual feeling was urging you to hold yourself steadily against his body, your breath erratic yet your eyes, they told a different story because they, for one, were glimmering with an emotion everyone could easily discern— it's pure excitement, glittering beneath the humid air.

vampire diluc who proceeds slowly, parting his lips ever so slightly before pressing his sharp canines into your flesh, immersing his teeth deeper until he opens a little spot to hollow his cheeks on before making contact with a taste of metal, a taste vampire diluc was utterly familiar with— and ugh, he knew you'd taste better than any other before, he was aware that you're so special, from inside and out.

your breath hitches as a new warmth embraces you, his hands on every inch of your skin as he repeats his thrusts on you while never letting go of your flesh between his teeth— the tug on your skin was stinging a little and the feeling of getting blood pulled out of you was frankly, something you thought you never had to experience in life.

but.. it feels nice, exciting, and it urges your cheeks to burn hot, for some reason it makes you feel so full when he drinks from you together with crowding you to the hilt with his erection— long and thick and just so right.

regardless, it has you seeing stars and copious amounts of planets flickering throughout the universe— his entire weight on you, molding his front into you while pinning your breasts against his broad chest, whereas his hand— hot to the every last trace, lays flat over the plush side of your ass, the softness of your body forevermore melting into the soft ridges of his.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[igotanidea]

A moment of weakness: Damian Wayne x reader

part 1 : Family rules

***

Everything that happened after seemed like a blur.

Her hand in his when they were sneaking out the ballroom.

Escaping watchful gazes of both their fathers.

The rustle of her dress on the carpeted floor that muffled the sound of their feet.

And then.

His lips on hers.

One of his hand on her cheek, and the other on her waist as he was pulling her closer to him. Stubbornly yet lacking the proficiency his older brothers may possess. Which was perfectly understandable since she was the first girl to capture Damian Wayne’s attention. The first that put so much charm on him that beyond all that hateful, snarky attitude something much more delicate and caring started to bloom.

“I still hate you…” she whispered pulling back, feeling the need to make it very clear that this kiss was stemming only from that emotion and nothing beyond. Even if her ragged breath and dilated pupils were enough of an evidence of her lying.

“Naturally” he responded. His rapidly beating heart and the sensation of her body in his arms causing this young boy to almost tremble. At this moment, when they were finally alone for the first time in years since they have known each other he was torn in two directions. Not making a fool of himself in front of her and proving that he wasn’t a foolish boy who could be easily charmed but a strong, capable and dominant man. Regardless of the fact they were both seventeen.

“I hate you too. And if you think there’s something more just because of the fact I’m kissing you right now you’re gravely mistaken.” Damian whispered brushing his lips over hers again, already intoxicated and losing his cool head.

“Kissing?” she mocked melting into him and snuggling closer to his embrace “Didn’t notice…”

“Mhm…”

“We shouldn’t…”

‘You’re absolutely right…”

“No one should know about it…”

“No one will. You won’t tell anyone out of fear of daddy dearest, right?” he looked at her with eyes shining with the familiar mischief and mockery.

“And you will keep the steam out of your mouth due to embarrassment, won’t you?” she retorted, matching his level of sarcasm.

And then they kissed again.

Her hands in his hair, running through soft dark strands.

His arms wrapping around her securely as if never wanting to let her go.

Just a little moment of weakness they both would deny if asked.

But for now, with no one around they decided to indulge in the lack of rationality, with both intensity and shyness of two teenagers confused by their own emotions.

So good. So right. So messed up.

Lost in the best meaning of the word, as if the world stopped turning and even existing just because they wanted to cherish the moment.

Foolish little kids.

Torn from the fantasy by the sound of cameras and flashes of light shooting straight into their eyes.

“Damian! Damian, look here!”

“Damian, who’s your mystery girl!?”

“Come on, pretty one, smile for the picture!”

“What is your name girl?!”

Too many questions and sounds for the person who was not used to having any attention at all. And being attacked by paparazzi and reporters who were skilled in intimidating was simply too much for poor Y/N whose head started spinning immediately.

‘Hey, I know that girl!” one of the scribblers yelled “she’s the daughter of Wayne’s competitor on the market!”

Shit.

Now that was a problem.

While her first instinct was to run away and hide in whatever hole would appear first, Damian stood proudly without an ounce of emotion on his face, preventing her from doing anything stupid or reckless.

And that cold, strong façade, making him look just like his father, finally got the reporters to stop yelling and taking photos.

“leave.” He said coldly spurring on another wave of shouting. ‘LEAVE. You were not invited here nor asked to interrupt the private life of the habitants. Your sole purpose on this gala was to focus on the official part. Therefore, you are trespassing beyond your scope of passage. And that will not be tolerated. I will not repeat myself. LEAVE NOW unless you want to deal with the consequences.”

Under any other circumstances this would probably be grotesque, but no one wanted any trouble from the son of the Bruce Wayne aka Bruce Wayne himself, so the intruders finally retreated.

“Damian—”

“I’ll take care of it.” He retorted coldly moving away from her turning back to his cold self, hiding in the shell.

“But what if-?” she could only fear what were to happen if the photos of them together leaked into the press – or worse – internet.

“I said I’ll take care of it, haven’t you heard?!” he snapped.

“Oh I heard loud enough! You’re just not very capable in taking care of things, forgive my audacity. So are you really that surprised I’m skeptical about it?!”

“Don’t you dare—” he took step forward reaching for her arm but she wriggled out swiftly

“You stay the hell away from me Wayne.”

“No. you stay the hell away from me Y/L/N.”

“With pleasure!”

“Great!”

“fine!” she cried out crossing arms over her chest

“fine!” he barely held back from sticking tongue out at her

And with that they got back to the gala, using two different ways to not be seen together and pretended like nothing had happened.

***

The next day, Sunday passed without anything extraordinary happening.

Not a word from either of them.

Even if she was reaching for her phone countless times ready to shot him a quick message and check up if he was doing fine.

Even if he was one foot out the door every time a thought of her crossed his mind.

“Idiot” she was thinking throwing her phone away for a hundredth time scrolling through her contact list.

“Harridan.” he was smacking his forehead trying to get some sense in his brain throwing the coat away and retrieving into his room.

***

And then there was Monday.

One of those grey-clouds, rainy, windy Monday when getting out of bed and focusing on duties seemed impossible.

But from the moment she walked through the school door something felt odd. Just like in those stupid teenage movies she was met with whispers and furtive glances followed by malicious giggles and finger pointing.

The hell?

Y/N barely got to her locker when one of the most popular and obviously, the meanest girl in school crossed her way slamming the locker door into her face.

“Lisa.” Y/N almost rolled her eyes.

“Y/N.” the self-appointed queen B grinned like a predator “did anything fun this weekend?”

“Are you trying to make yourself feel better now or something?”

“Don’t you dare talk back at me, you little slut!”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?!”

“oh, it’s not just my opinion.” Lisa smiled mockingly “the whole internet keeps talking about the entertainment you got yourself on Saturday.”

“What--?”

Lisa clicked on something in her phone and put the screen into her face.

So it was officially settled.

Damian fucking Wayne was completely helpless when it came to dealing with things.

And the fact that she was looking at the picture of them both, taken at the gala, showing each details of them kissing and holding each other was enough of a prove.

All the problems stemming from the leak put aside as she focused on one thing and one thing only.

She was going to kill him.

***

Meanwhile Damian was greeted in school with charming smiles and encouraging shouts.

It’s always easier for the boys.

“Was she good?” one of the boys smirked at him.

“What-?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Was she good?”

“Huh?” none of that were making any sense to Damian who frowned in confusion.

And then he saw the same photo and the blood drained from his face.

Someone was going to pay for this.

That is- if he could actually convince Y/N that he had nothing to do with the publishing of it. That it was his intention to actually protect her himself from scandal.

However, judging by the way she was walking his way, with the rage of a buffalo, it was going to be rather complicated.  

part 3: Despite everything

@gabriiiiiiii @6000-fandoms @jinviktor

[mountainficss]

thoughts on whiny, subby jeonghan dry humping you in public with a flushed face because he couldn't help himself?🥴🥴

!! mentions of: sub!jeonghan, sexual acts in public, dry humping, edging

oh poor jeonghan would be so desperate! i really can see him doing this. i can envision multiple scenarios.

i imagine him pressing himself against you during a cramped ride on the subway, when the overcrowded car gives him no choice but to be pushed against you. your close proximity would immediately get him hard, and the numerous bodies crammed close to him would not make it any easier for his rapidly heating face. his hands would fall down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he nestles him chin on your shoulder. you’d notice his throbbing erection against you right away, and would tease him lightly instead. “feeling okay?” you’d ask him gently, a small smile on your face as you settle your hands on top of his (that are still gripping your hips like his life depends on it). “mhm,” he’d choke out quietly, grinding his hips once against you. he needed to feel something, anything as long as it came from you. “just want you.” he’d whisper as quietly as he could manage, his lips dragging over the shell of your ear. the ride was anything but quiet, but the last thing jeonghan wanted was to attract the attention of other unassuming passengers. “well you’ll have to wait,” you’d reply nonchalantly, receiving a whine from jeonghan. “we have lots of plans today.” he’d just let out another defeated whine, burying his face in your hair and inhaling your intoxicating scent.

he might also latch onto you in an empty aisle while shopping, his boner poking your ass for the second time today. he’d grind against you once, letting out a sultry moan next to your ear. “p-please…lemme f-fuck you…” he’d slur, hands repeatedly traveling from your hips to your stomach. “i’ll love you s-so good if you let me…” you’d say nothing, would just smile silently to yourself and continue browsing the shelves. “we’re in public, hannie,” you’d dismiss gently, reaching an arm behind you to run your fingers through his hair. “be good.” he’d let out a choked, desperate sound as he thrusts his hips against you once, twice before he detaches himself from you halfheartedly.

he would be extremely needy for the rest of the day after being edged twice in a row. poor baby would even beg you while you’re grabbing lunch, the tablecloth concealing how he humps your hand with fervor. you’d keep your hand pressed against his clothed erection, solely adding a little pressure and making him do the rest of the work. “there’s a bathroom o-over there…can we, please?” jeonghan would hiss, trying his best not to make his pleasure obvious. you’d just scoff meanly, admiring his flushed face and adorable pout. “you wanted this, hannie. this is the only way i’ll let you cum,” you’d smirk, your decision unwavering. jeonghan would give in after that, using your hand to try to reach his climax. he’d grab your hand with both of his, practically fucking it through the fabric of his pants. the sensation of the fabric and the pressure from your hand would tip him over the edge, and he’d throw a hand over his mouth to keep his lewd sounds muffled. ropes of warm cum would shoot into his boxers, soiling the fabric and leaving him feeling sticky and satisfied. you’d give his softening cock a few more teasing strokes, chuckling when his body twitches from the overstimulation. “such a good boy, hannie,” you’d coo, leaning over the table to press a peck onto his lips. he’d kiss back weakly, breathing heavily from his previous orgasm.

jeonghan would be so well behaved for the remainder of your outing, having felt satisfied from your pleasure. as a reward you’d fuck him after returning home, using his previous load to aid the slide onto his cock and riding him until he’s a moaning mess <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[justporo]

Point Break

Being with Astarion is - almost - perfect. And it is so easy to fall for him and into his arms. But the least thing you can try and do is offering to turn the tides. (NSFW)

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Here we are yet again with something that was supposed to be like... well, not almost 2k words. But here we are. Also this is yet another instance where I inflate the smut with emotions. There are just so many... feelings to be had!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: smut Wordcount: 1,9k

Astarion was on top of you, inside of you. Your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and the air was filled with nothing but your mutual moans and gasps and Astarion’s haughtily whispered sweet little nothings. You were staring up at him, almost unable to take your eyes off him, his perfect body and face. Your eyes and your mind would always find their way back to them, to him.

That’s how it had been ever since the vampire had invited you that one night to that clearing in the forest. Continually, you had met up in the nights, talked some, started kissing, gotten naked - and then you had lost yourself in his arms, under his touches repeatedly.

It was so easy and so good, you nearly didn't have to think about it - almost completely perfect.

Now, he had your hands pinned to the ground next to your head, his hips rolling and thrusting into you at an even pace, slowly making you descend further into the depth of your own lust and seemingly unending pleasure. He’d been your reliant guide in this from the very first moment on. With him you had spiralled down while he'd shown you truths about yourself you hadn't ever dreamt of. And this far you had always come back up again, luckily.

You held his heated gaze that sent slow shivers of blazing hot fever over and through you. Only when the pleasure became almost too much to bear you let your head fall back and your eyes roll into your skull - focusing solely on the sensation of being with Astarion. It filled every corner of your mind.

No one could ever compare to him. Every fantasy or expectation you might have had in your life was outdone by a margin. He was consummate in any kind of way imaginable: face and body looking like they were lovingly crafted by the most generous of gods, his touches and kisses each masterfully executed, second to none. He had exactly figured out what made you lose your mind, arch your back in heedless pleasure time and again. What made you moan and scream his name as if it was the last breath you were able to take and your only wish was to use it to utter his name a final time.

It was so easy to return to this - intoxicating, addicting. How could you resist?

And so you came whenever he called - no questions asked.

And yet it had slowly changed, it was more than what could be seen at a single glance. Not merely quickly disappearing ripples on an otherwise calm water surface. Things were stirring in the depths and would come up for a break at some point, you were sure of it.

Even when you weren’t with Astarion now, thoughts about him kept turning around in your mind. It had become more intense, the height your heart jumped whenever he smirked at you becoming ever higher. He was slowly invading your heart and soul, along with the body he had already laid claim upon.

But still there were these moments, when it felt off. Something lurking just at the edge of your sight, something not quite right. Because there were these bits and pieces he slowly let fall from his armour, showing some of the pain and the fear beneath. Sometimes he couldn’t hold your gaze, even though insisting elaborately that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in those moments. But you slowly recognised that as the lie it was.

It made your chest clench and ache, filling it with the wish of freeing Astarion from whatever it was that had forced him to raise up those thick castle walls all around him.

The vampire kept moving, crushing his hips into yours and you felt him hit deep inside of you. Your hands were clenching his as you were all ready to let him push you off the edge again - and again and again and again.

You could just keep going like this. Let him lure you back to him, time and again. But then - where would this lead?

You could take what it was he had to offer without ever questioning what it cost. But was this really what you wanted?

Your heart already knew the answer.

“Astarion”, you gasped near breathless. With lips parted, taking heavy breaths, you looked at him pleadingly. You softly wiggled your fingers, asking him to free your hands from his grasp.

Immediately he stopped moving.

His chest was heaving, he was buried deep inside of you. He held you, body and mind.

His mask had dropped.

Gone was the master seducer, the dark, promising gaze, the sultry demeanour. Left in its place was sudden worry and fear.

Astarion’s eyebrows were raised in question, red eyes round in the silvery moonlight casting your bodies and faces in pale, cold light. He looked so young all of a sudden.

The vampire slowly let go of your hands and lifted himself up and further away from you. Your bodies were still impossibly close but yet it felt like there were leagues between you in this moment, even when that hadn’t been your intention at all.

He swallowed heavily but he didn’t dare speak. Just in these short moments you saw how panic almost overtook him. So you moved quickly - to get your point across and break the unbearable tension.

You cupped his face softly in your hands and nudged him until at least a fraction of his tension eased and he leaned towards you. Your fingers wandered lightly over his face, over his cheekbones, his brows as you leaned your head to one side, admiring him fully, in awe of him.

His eyes were still on yours, unsure of what was about to happen.

And then you closed the distance and kissed him, hoping to convey what you might never be able to put into words. Your lips covering his with feather-light touches, merely asking, suggesting.

You kissed him slowly and lovingly, allowing him to decide if that was what he wanted or not. And when he softly answered your kiss, carefully and still hesitantly taking you up on the offer, a small gasp left your open lips. Your hands slowly but decidedly wandered further: one tangling in his luscious curls, the other softly caressing one of his pointy ears.

And Astarion answered you with a moan, wandering from his mouth to yours. Different from the others, the ones you were used to: surprised, but pleasantly. You let him deepen the kiss then.

Arching your back when need rolled over you again, you tried to close the gap between your bodies. Desperate to feel every inch of his skin on yours with no space in between. And also offering up what he might take if only he wanted to. Meanwhile you were still acutely aware of how he felt inside of you as you kept dancing on the edge.

He groaned in response and was leaning back into you now, lowering himself on one of his elbows while his free hand came to touch your face while he lowered his body almost fully onto you.

The feeling of him accepting, embracing sent a new rush through you.

You clenched your core around him, giving more. You wanted to give him everything - he needed only to reach out and take it.

This was about much more than just physical pleasure now. You desperately needed him to know that he may take from you whatever he desired. That you wanted him to indulge in you, to be the one falling for once - if that was what he wanted. The need to fully embrace him and never let go of him again burned in your chest and your whole body. You’d offer up all of yourself if that was what it took.

He was melting into your touch while his body seemed consumed by a different kind of tension now. He seemed willing and eager now to take his chances and grasp what fell into his hands.

His fingers grabbed your hair, gently pulling on the strands curled around his fingers. Meanwhile the kiss never broke. It became more heated by the second.The air was filled with your gasps and moans again - but it had changed. Waves were rising up from the depths.

And then he started to move once more.

Withdrawing from you achingly slow at first and then thrusting into you again. Rolling his hips and slamming them into you so hard, just once, made your eyes roll back almost fully into your skull. You moaned, nearly whimpered into his wide open mouth.

“What are you doing?”, he asked quickly and almost completely out of breath, only tearing his mouth from yours because he had to know.

His hips slowly kept moving though. His body already knowing what he had agreed upon while his mind was still catching up.

“Offering you everything”, you replied weakly while you let one of your hands wander down his back. Feeling the gruesome ridges there, but not lingering, dragging your fingertips over his skin, hoping to just leave trails of heat on his skin - hot and pleasant, not cruel, only painful to the point of pleasure. You lifted your legs, pressing one against his side to hold him even closer. And with the other letting your foot softly wander over the back of his calf. Both your thighs squeezing deliciously around his slender hips.

A shiver ran through him and a curt gasp left his throat.

But there wasn’t fear in his gaze anymore. His eyes were ablaze. And in a way you hadn’t seen before in him.

“Letting you pick”, you then continued while he thrust into you again and your body bowed to him, still willing to give more.

His hips kept moving, starting a much rougher and less steady rhythm - in fact his whole body was now trying to get more purchase, knees and feet burying into the ground.

Maybe you’d never see and feel him like this again. But if you could offer him this moment in time, you would happily do it.

“Take only what you want, leave the rest”, you finished and then had to let your head loll back as far as Astarion’s fingers in your hair allowed when the next of his movements brought you to the very edge of sanity.

This wasn’t the clean performance anymore the night had started with. It wasn’t perfect and immaculately exercised, trained a thousand times. But perfect wasn’t what was needed right now. It needed to be real and open.

It didn’t take either of you long before you were both finally swept away. Only a few more thrusts and your fingers sneakily wandering between your bodies while Astarion was now trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, and you were both taken away by waves way bigger than either of you had anticipated. Pledges were made under both your heavy breaths. Hands clawed at skin and into hair, desperately trying to get closer yet. To hold onto each other while you got dragged onto the open sea.

And it was raw, rough around the edges, and deep, much deeper than you had imagined. And maybe it was unsure, unfamiliar; maybe even terrifying.

But it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t wrong at all.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

[oneirataxiahiraeth]

Can you do a Kai Parker x Stefan Salvatore x y/n? lool

Hierarchy || pt.1

Pairings : fem!reader x siphon!KaiParker

Warnings : Vulgar Language, Mentions of threesomes, Mentions of infidelity, Voyeurism, mutual masterbation, Violent, mentions of blood, mention of death, slight exhibitionism, fingering, oral (both receiving), choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, jealous!stefan x jealous!kai, FWB, definitely NOT proofread

Word Count: little over 4k

A/N:

I ALREADY HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FROM LIKE MONTHS AGO!!! im so glad someone requested it cus it wasn’t sure if you guys would want to see this😭 im making this 2/maybe 3 parts because I have them ready… partially???

   The interest began the first time you met. He smelled you before he was even able to see you. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. You smelled soft and warm, something about the subtle hibiscus in your perfume almost made him comfortable.

     His eyes remained closed, just listening to your soft hums of whatever pop junk they played on the radio these days. He heard the ruffling of the packaging of your first aid kit, right before felt the searing sting of an alcohol pad being pressed into his skin.

   His head was ringing, blood drying on his shirt from the giant gash in his hairline. You were sure if it was from the scuffle with Alaric earlier or the way Ric hit his unconscious head against the tree afterwards. Kai slowly opened his eyes, flinching away from the sting only to let met with soft apologies that sounds surprisingly genuine. You had a soft sultry tone that made his skin crawl. Once his vision stabilized he was met with one of the most angelic faces he had ever personally witnessed. He swore he had finally died and good somehow found it in his heart to forgive him for his sins. Your lips slightly parted with the pink tip of your tongue poking out as you focused on cleaning the wounds before infection even had the chance to form. You offered reassuring smiles  as he made the most snarky comments he and his concussion could think of before your friend came to whisk you away.

   You were torture to be around. Your scent, face, the way you spoke, how you cried, laughed, everything about you stuck with him. You were torture to be around, the very thought of you intoxicating. Maybe it was simply because of the kindness you had shown him from the very beginning that he never experienced from anyone else. Or the innocent nature of your entire being. the way you tensed when a situation turned violent, or how there was this switch in you that flipped so quickly when someone you care about was in danger. He noted how everyone avoided conflicted with you around, as if they all had a hand to play in preserving your innocence.

"Stop staring at me like that" You spoke blandly, feeling your cheeks heating as you glanced at the siphon who simply shrugged in acknowledgement.

   "Can't help it." A smirked crossed his lips, as his fingers traced invisible shapes along the counter tops. "You are just so mesmerizing."

   "Malachi" You huffed, rolling your eyes as you fought a smile.

   You knew about the tiny crush Kai seemed to have. Though he never confirmed it, and you never had the balls to ask, it was something that you felt. Almost everyone noticed it. The way he spoke to you, about you, how he never got your name wrong or even threatened to hurt a hair on your head. Even if you had received a tiny cut on your hand, he would draw from whatever magic he had simply to heal you. Part of him felt obligated after everything you've done for him, and the other parts just felt like it.

    His attraction started off as solely lustful desperation. He took every opportunity to steal the sight of you. He watched while you were sprawled out across the living room floor, feet dangling in the air as you read from a book he didn't care to pay attention to. He was too focused on the way your tongue rested between your teeth when you concentrated hard enough. He could make out every curve in your body, even recognizing you simple by the way you walked. Over time he realized the way he needed you was more than simply physical.

   Even the way you said his name was so special. He didn't like any one else using his full name. When you said it, it was just different... better. Less implications of someone evil, and it almost made him feel human.

   "What's the smell?"

"Strawberry shortcakes." You perked up.

    "Really?" He sat up straight, looking at the mess you made on the counter. "From scratch I see..." and you nodded gleefully, as his eyebrows narrowed in concern.

   You were something of a nuisance in the kitchen. You love baking, and cooking, but apparently the skill did not love you back. You've burned more things than humanly possible, and it was getting to the point where you were barely trusted to pour your own coffee in the mornings. So you stuck to the earlier mornings when everyone would be dead asleep, unable to talk you out of practicing your skills.

   You could blacken as many cookies or cakes as you wanted and they wouldn't even notice unless something was on fire.

  "Hey, i'm doing really good so far!" You defended you actions, turning around to pick up the cooled tray of tiny cakes you made before the sun even rose. "Nothing was set on fire, and I double checked to made sure I used sugar instead of salt this time." Kai chuckled, standing from his seat walking around the counter just to be closer to you.

   "Hmm." He inspected the tiny vanilla cakes, picking some up to see the perfectly baked cake. "They look really good." you smiled brightly, watching as kai nodded in approval. "but do the taste good?" He questioned, setting the cakes back down on the tray.

   "Now that..." You sighed, turning to set the trays down on the counter. "is the scary part."

   "Every chef has to taste their own dish."

"I am way far from a chef, Malachi." You stated.

   "But you're practicing. Definitely getting better too. You'll get there." He smiled, looking down at the warm pot sitting in the counter with what looked to be a black syrup burned into the sides of the pan. "However, it is slightly concerning that your shoe to make... tar on a regular kitchen stove." He gave you a judging glance.

    "I got distracted." You defend.

"You know..." Kai spoke, taking his eyes away from the oddly offensive sight. "if this whole chef thing doesn't work out for you, you could certainly go into modeling. You really know how to work an apron."

  "You just said I was getting better!"

"I was trying the whole optimism thing. Clearly I am a creature of habit."

  "You mean an asshole?"

"I was going to say realistic." Kai shrugged, finding one of the untouched strawberries containers and stealing the most appetizing one he could see.

  You noticed how incredibly close the two of you were standing. You had to look up just to meet the eyes of the siphon, not even caring how he was leaning over you with a devilish smirk on his face. Something about the closeness felt wrong, but watching as juice from the strawberries wet him lips had you feeling a bit faint.

   You didn't have a crush on Kai... at least that not what it felt like. You and Kai were friends. You had been the first, and practically the only person to actually accept Kai into your lives. He was actually very sweet and funny, and not as bad as he tried to make people think. Sure sometimes he made your cheeks go hot, and he said things that made you wondering if he was just being a flirty friend or if he actually meant what he said.

  "Well." You cleared your throat, watching his jawline as he slowly chewed his fruit. "Since you are the world renowned chef with what 3 Michelin star-"

   "5 actually."

"Wow! 5 whole michelin stars! I assume you have some tips about how to make a decent strawberry compote that isn't going to take forever?"

   "Ah" Kai nodded slowly, setting down his strawberry stem. "Yes, actually. The key is an incredibly handsome sous chef who knows his way around the kitchen."

    "Show me."

"You're gonna have to do better than that." Kai snorted, crossing his arms in front of him.

   "What do you mean do better?" You scoffed.

"You want my help you're gonna have to ask veryyy nicely."

  "Fine." you huffed. "Malachi, can you please show me how to make strawberry compote."

  "Eh"

"Pretty please?"

   "Mehhh"

"With a cherry on top?"

   "uhhh"

"I give up" You took a step back, turning to walk away from the siphon but his hand grabbed your wrist before you could move too far.

“aht aht” He shook his head. “I was only messing with you, y/n” His eyes rolled playfully. “you made a commitment and now you’ve got to see it through”

“Funny.” Your eyes rolled at siphon who seemed to be enjoying how flustered he could make you.

“i like messing with you, you’re cute when you’re flustered” Kai smirked, once again making it hard to breathe as you caught his eyes.

From his dilated pupils to the soft mahogany fragrance that always fills the air when he near. It made it hard to think properly.

“What’s going on in here?” A familiar voice interrupted the soft eye contact you managed to keep with the siphon.

Your head turned towards Stefan, standing in the kitchen doorway. His arms crossed, pajama pants hanging low on his hips showing his deep v line and toned abdomen. The lack of clothing on his torso made it very clear how tightly he was flexing his biceps as he glared at the siphon standing too close for comfort.

“Stefan.” You smiled, sucking in a harsh breath.

Stefan was… complicated.

He was noble, reliable, incredibly sexy, and apparently so insanely jealous. You loved Stefan, there was not a doubt in your mind. You’ve had a crush on him for years, but your dynamic in the group together made things too complicated to pursue something serious. Though you never really knew where you two officially began, you had an understanding. It was understood in various late night session where you sometimes woke the whole house with your antics. It was understood when both of you would disappear in the middle of the day only for you to come back covered in marks and bruises, blaming it on being clumsy.

You never really questioned the relationship you two had. You never felt the need…

“Steven!” Kai smirked, tasing his eyebrows at the way the vampire was flexing on his way to stand behind you. “We were just about to start a crash course on making strawberry compote.” Kai winked.

You felt Stefan pressing up against your back, his body heat radiating into you, sandwiching you in between both him and the siphon.

"Looked like a lot more than just talking to me." Stefan crossed his arms.

"Just two culinary geniuses hard at work." He hummed, popping a cube of strawberry into his mouth with a taunting smile that made your stomach turn.

"I'm sure she cut her damn strawberries just fine without your help, Malachi."

"Well a little company never hurt anyone." Kai straightened up at the name. His eyes turning cold, just like they did before he did something merciless. He kept that smug expression on his face. "Besides, sharing a little advice with your friends is common practice now and days correct?" He asked, earning a nod from Stefan.

"Right..." Stefan, stepped around you, directly facing Kai. Your body tensed, as you watch carefully both of their hands. Stefan's hands clenched under his arms, as if he was just ready to swing. Kai was completely relaxed, taking a step towards Stefan as if his life was on the line. "Well let me give you a little advice." Stefan leaned in, his face completely straight. "Walk. Away." His voice dropping an octave lower, nearly wiping the smugness completely off of Kai's face.

The two were basically breathing the same CO2 from how close they were standing. You opened your mouth to find something to say but you came up short. You placed your hand on Stefan Shoulder, which didn't seem to cause him to back down but did relax the tense muscles.

"Green is not a good look on you, Stefan." Kai hummed after a few seconds of deafening silence.

"Maybe not." Stefan shrugged “But to insinuate that i’m jealous of you, Malachi… it would you have something that I want.” Stefan’s eyes narrowed tightly. “And from the way i see it, i think it’s quite the opposite.”

Kai nodded slowly. He didn't speak but something about the way his eyes softened just felt as if he knew he was out matched. He could take Stefan. You seen him do it before, there no reason he wouldn't be able to manage it now. All it took was one touch and he was down for the count. For some reason he just smile, nodding silently as he took a step back, putting space between the two.

Kai sucked in a deep breath, nodding slowly. He didn’t speak but something about the way his eyes softened just felt as if he knew he was out matched. He could take Stefan. You knew he could, you had seen him do it before, and there no reason he wouldn’t be able to manage it now. All it took was one touch and he down for the count. For some reason now, he just stood there as if he was defeated, backing away to put space in between the two of you.

"I'll catch you later, Y/N." Kai hummed, and you nodded without saying a word. The tension in the room still too thick to properly breathe in.

Walking away from a fight he had even a sliver of a chance at was never Kai's MO. He sent a wink to you before turning away, and taking his leave out of the kitchen. Your eyes stayed glued to his figure until he disappeared past the doorframe, the only thing left of his presence is his mahogany and citrus scented cologne.

Stefan turned slowly to you, listening as Kai's footsteps faded further and further away. His face was dark, and almost scary, but something was telling you it wasn't all directed at you.

"I don't want you alone with him."

"He's our friend." You spoke softly.

"No he's not." Stefan shook his head, unable to comprehend what about him was so friendly to you. "He is a predator, looking for his next prey."

"You know how i feel about the whole outcasting thing."

"Not everyone is worth saving, y/n." You felt it as an instinct to nod but you rejected the urge.

"I..." you sucked in a breath, "I know."

"I'm sorry for that, I just... i don't know, I guess I just didn't like the way he was so close to you." His hand came up to your cheek, caressing you lightly. He gave you a soft reassuring smile which you accepted.

"It's alright, Stef."

He turned his head back to the mess on the cutting board and then the tray in the counter behind you before giving you a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing smells burnt... is it safe to assume that those are just store bought?" Your eyes rolled as he smiled widely.

"You are so not funny."

"I think i'm a little humorous." His placed his grabbed your wrist, placing them over his shoulders, before pulling you closer into him by your waist.

"I think you're a dick." You spoke, emphasizing the 'k' which made his smile grow. "When i'm a Rachel Ray famous, on the tv with my own network show i'm going to remember this." You spoke as he laughed.

"If you don't burn the studio down then yeah." He laughed as your mouth open to speak but nothing came out.

Your lips curved into a small smile, using one of your hands to giving him a playfully tap on his shoulder. His hands traveled down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up immediately with no hesitation. He set you on the counter right next to your mangled strawberries, his lips connecting right in your neck.

You hummed as his tongue glided against your skin, following the curves of your neck, and leaving a wet hot trail behind. You knew what this meant, it was your biggest weakness. Feeling his teeth scrap against your skin sent electricity down your spine. His hands slowly gliding up your shirt, fingers digging into the soft warm flesh, keeping your back arched into him as he nipped at your skin until he pressed his lips against yours.

Something about kissing Stefan was so... light. You loved the feeling of being close to him, it made you feel secure. The way he kissed you was so deep you couldn't help but lose yourself in him. Your moans were soft, barely audible to those who might've been awake even in these early hours. Stefan loved the way were lips chased after his, always searching for his connection.His hands slid down slowly, running down your thighs and coming back up until the reached the waistband of your pajamas shorts, tugging at the string keeping them fit to your body.

"Stef" You eyes widened, pulling away from his kiss watching a smug grin cross his face.

"If you stay quiet, nobody will know." He tutted, planting a soft kiss on the hot skin of your neck. He slowly slid his hand into the waistband of your shorts, his fingers slipping past the band of your panties finding exactly where you needed him to be.

Your eyes closed softly, focusing on the hand placement, feeling a soft bliss as his fingers covered themselves in your slickness. He watched as your face relaxed, feeling his fingers slowly press into your entrance as his thumb pressed down firmly on your clit. Your lips parting as you let out breathy moans as he built a rhythm to get you off on.

"Speak to me, pretty girl."

"Feels so good, Stef." You whined, hips grinding into his fingers allowing him to reach that spongy trigger in the deep of your cunt. Your nails lightly pressing into the skin on his biceps as his fingers sped up in pace.

"so beautiful." He hummed, pressing his lips into the crook of your neck.

Your eyelids fluttering as you relished in the butterflies running rampant in the out of your stomach. High pitched moans escaping your lips as he sucked harsh spots on your skin, dragging his teeth over them to ensure he left a mark so dark not even your most expensive make up could cover up what he did to you. Part of him ran wild at the idea of you walking around with some part of him stuck onto you.

He couldn't let that mangy siphon get away with trying to make moves on his girl without consequences. Since he couldn't necessarily hurt Kai in the way he wanted he knew that this was his best option. There wasn't a single person in this world that could take you away from him and he would've done whatever to make that clear to anyone who needed it.

"Fuck Stef, you feel s'good" you moaned, his thumb pressing harder as you leaned further into his touch.

"God i love when you say my name" He hummed against your skin. His own cock beginning to hardening at the sounds of your pleasure. Stefan removed his finger quickly, smiling at the protest, seeing as you were so close to finishing. "Patience, y/n." He tutted, tapping your jaw with his free hand, smiling at your obedience as your mouth opened, tongue poking out just slightly on command.

He placed his two fingers coated in your juices directly in your tongue. You moaned at the taste, closing your lips around as you began to lap up your own juices. He watched with a grin, slowly gliding the digits in and out of your mouth, watching you clean them off so perfectly. Once he felt like you did a good enough job he took his fingers back, placing a soft kiss on your lips as a job well done.

"Take these off for me baby." He pulled at the waist band of your shorts, watching your eye widen at the suggestion.

"Stef we can't- not right here!" He smiled, pulling you off the counter and back onto your feet. He pulled your shorts down with your panties, and sunk to his knees. You felt light in the head at the sight. "Fuck" You cried as he lifted your leg into his shoulder, immediately diving in.

You tried keeping quiet but it was hard, feeling the way his hands caressed your thighs and ass as his tongue lapped up all the slickness you created. Your bottom lip was caught in between your teeth as you felt your orgasm approaching. His tongue running circles around your clit, sucking it into his mouth every few seconds causing you to cried out.

With all the pleasure on your mind, it was hard to focus, even harder to notice Kai standing in the doorframe. His head peaking over to see what the commotion was, only to see the few locks of Stefan’s hairs caught in your grip as you held him in place. With the addition of his name leaving your mouth in breathy moans, it wasn’t hard to tell what was going on. It had only been a few seconds, glaring at you as if it was a betrayal to your relationship with him.

Even if you weren’t together… you could at least do better than Stefan.

It became harder for Kai to look away. Your chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat glistening on the surface of your skin. Your head lolling back as you got closer and closer into your ecstasy making it to where you don’t really care how loud you were being. Your moans were so soft and delicate, exactly how Kai had imagined them to be. He doubted anyone upstairs could hear, so it was just You, Stefan, and Kai.

He listened to your pleas for release, memorizing every single note in your tone. The sounds of Stefan’s tongue slurping up your slick folds sent shivers straight to his crotch. He felt dirty for watching you so vulnerable but you made it so hard to feel bad. The way you hung your head back so sensually, he burned the images of you into the forefront of his mind so he’d have the sight of you on the cusps of euphoria in his dreams tonight.

“Stef m’gonna cum” You chest huffed, tightening your grip on his hair.

Kai finally tore his eyes away from your fucked out body. His eyes traced to the sweet smelling cakes you pour in the oven to bake. They were ready. but you didn’t seem to be too concerned with the state of your cakes. He watched the way Stefan’s hands caressed your thighs, pulling you closer into him as your whines grew louder.

So he did what any sensible person would in the situation.

"Oh fuc- Stefan!" You yelped as your eyes caught the flames behind the oven glass. Stefan pulled away quickly, turning his head towards the smokey smell, and got up to action.

You rushed, pulling up your shorts as quickly as you could as Stefan ran to the fire extinguisher. You frowned as he dosed the oven and the cakes you worked so hard on. Both of your breathing was labored for a plethora of reasons. You both listened to the rumbling of footsteps hurrying down the steps only to appear seconds later in concerned faces and disappointed glares.

"Listen I actually like living in the house!" Damon began. "I can't live in this house if it's up in flames, okay?" You shook your head, hiding your face in your hands as Stefan walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you.

"I didn't know they were going to catch on fire!" You defended, but no one seemed to be buying it.

"You are banned from this kitchen! Do you hear me? B A N N E D!"

You dropped your hands from your face, looking around the kitchen to see the tired face staring back at you.

"Oh give her a break, she's trying." Stefan tried his best, but secretly agreed with his brother. You in the kitchen was almost asking for a accident to happen. "Look she made those with no incident."

"Stefan. Look at my OVEN!" Damon raised his voice dramatically, as the two began to bicker.

Then you took notice to the siphon in the doorway. Watching everything from afar. His eyes were trained on you, not even budging when you spotted him. He waved his fingers at you with a soft smirk, watching the scene unfold. Something about his relaxed nature and smug attitude just told you he was behind the fire.

You had no evidence. No way to justify your claim, but you knew.

He did too.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red - Chapter II | 4k

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you’ll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won’t. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

✦ Chapter TW: slightly obsessive behavior hehe.., just a hint yet; mentions of trauma and violence

A/N: Dropping chapter two because I'm excited to start the real deal of this story! Also, chapter three might take a little while to come out cause I'm working on a request I received; hope y'all enjoy! If anyone's interested in getting into a tagslist just lemme know!

Chapter 02 - Survivor

The hospital room you were in was pleasantly cozy. A large bed in the center, a considerably large television right in front of it and the big window to the left, whose blinds were closed for the time being. There were a few empty chairs next to the bed - you were sure that at some point in the last hours, someone was sitting there, as there was a small vase of flowers resting on one of the chairs. Although you could not see the world out there, you knew it was raining by the sound of the raindrops hitting the window; the sound echoed through your ears in an almost hypnotic intonation as you dissociated.

Your daydreaming was abruptly cut off when someone opened the door to your room. A lady, a nurse, whose name tag said Doris. You shook your head and quickly looked in her direction, your eyes no longer as confusing as before, but equally expressive.

“You’re awake, finally.” She pointed, as she approached her bed with some caution. “You’ve been sleeping for at least fifteen hours since you came here. I was starting to worry,” she said, sounding somewhat caring.

You raised your eyebrows briefly.

“Fifteen hours? Fuck my life…” You whispered, and her face turned into a little grimace in response.

“Language, lady.” she joked, as her hands caringly wrapped your nearest arm and began to remove the tapes that covered your venous access. “How are you feeling?” She asked in a murmur. “I don’t expect you to say ‘well,’ for God’s sake.” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m not feeling any pain at least.” you said. For the first time in those twenty-four hours in which you were silent, your mouth bitter in the metallic taste of blood and the horrible feeling of a cake in your throat, you began to speak. There was still a lot you wish you could say, but felt like you might never get to do it. You could never take the weight you felt on your back, the unsaid words, the pain that grew restless in your mind.

“That 's good. Means the medication is working; you hurt yourself pretty bad let me say,” she commented, still trying to sound as caring as possible. The care that emanated from her made you feel a little better, you had to admit. “but you will be fine. Can you move your leg?” She finally asked, finishing by skillfully exchanging your access without causing further pain.

You looked into your legs, and felt that bitter taste invading your mouth again. Fuck. You didn’t stop to think about it: that wound on your leg, previously partially buried by concrete, was well, very extensive. 

After breathing deeply, you concentrated your energies into the hurt leg. Your face shrugged in a strenuous expression, you were giving your best; your leg began to tremble and the rest of your body too, by the effort. It was as if that concrete block was still there, preventing its movement, causing you to suffer in stuckness.

“It’s okay, you can stop now.” she said, but you were negative and shaken your head with all the strength you could, small tears forming on your red face as you tried to move.

“No. I can do it.” you grumbled between your teeths and closed your eyes.

“Dear, no-” she tried to say, but nothing seemed to be able to change your mind right now.

A little move was all you got, and then the relief. Your breath accelerated, exasperated and relieved by victory, but still concerned by the fact that all you could achieve was almost equivalent to a spasm. Doris sighed.

“Why can’t I move straight?” You asked, your eyes ran into hers with some despair and impatience. "Will I lose my leg’s movements? Will I need to amputate?” You asked anxiously.

“God, girl. No!” She assured you, striking with her head and placing a new tape on your arm. Doris then walked to the end of your bed. “No one will amputate anything. Just see, well,” she started, and pulled the blankets that covered you from the waist down. 

Your expression relaxed, perplexed as you looked at the scarring on your leg. Almost like a crack, in your thigh — it started near your hip, and went up to almost half your thigh in a diagonal angle. It was a red, ugly wound, a crack in your now imperfected shell. It was sewn with the help of so many stitches that you could barely count. “you hit a nerve. It didn’t break, of course, or could barely move this leg, but it hurt and badly. It will take some time for you to recover from it. But you will.” she said.

“It’s horrible,” you whispered, your eyebrows scratched in a sad expression. “I’m horrible.”

Doris looked at you, to the tears that formed in your tired eyes. Her lips were compressed in a line.

“Oh, dear... You’d never be awful, don’t say that,” she whispered. “A scar won’t make you any less beautiful. Got it? It’s your survival mark.” she said, trying to encourage you a little.

You wanted to curse her. You felt angry at the kindness she offered you, for trying to make everything seem less heavy than it really was, but it didn’t seem fair. You knew that this should be some reaction of your mind poisoned by the depression you felt now. 

It would not be fair to discount your frustrations on the only person who had offered you some comfort so far, would it?

No.

Your face formed a smile so weak that maybe it only made her more worried than she was already, but that was all you could do for now. Doris covered you again, fitting the blankets around your body in a very comfortable way.

“I’ll bring your lunch. You’ll need to eat enough to get some energy for your recovery now.” she commented quietly by changing the IV from the support over you. Your eyes followed the whole process attentively.

Although you were grateful for the treatment you were receiving from the hospital, there was only one thing surrounding your mind. The Ghost.

The man in the skull mask who had saved your life. He was nowhere to be seen, you knew that you might possibly never see him again, but the idea that you didn’t even have time to thank him correctly tormented your mind. He was in your dreams while you were unconscious, standing there looking at you, glaring at you with those dark eyes of his. The curiosity of what was hidden behind the mask was hitting you hard this time, the need to see something human in him; the way his eyes seemed to present him as nothing but a machine. He seemed unbeatable, but when he took you in his arms, gently as he could be, like he was holding porcelain - you could only see a human being. And you wanted to see it, you craved for confirmation, that there was a human beneath the mask and that this human was just the way you pictured him to be. Or perhaps the complete opposite. You liked surprises, and fairly - you just wanted to see him.

“Where are the soldiers? You know, those who took me out of the building.” You curiously asked, cleaning your throat. The nurse's eyes wandered around the room in search of the small window that turned out to the hallway, she could not see anyone there, a confirmation that they might have been there before but not anymore at the moment. “I didn’t have time to thank him.” you whispered.

“Ah yes. Of course. Captain Price said he would call you when you were feeling a little better. Do you want me to give  them a call?” Doris asked kindly.

“Yes, please,” you agreed.

━ ⟡ ━

Soap was watching the news on TV in the town hall of the headquarters. His eyes were attentive, his ears well opened; he heard the television reciting for the thirteenth time that day those words that echoed in his mind, "hundred and two dead." The news anchor was saying something about the intelligence’s inability to detect the terrorist threat before the bombing occurred. Massive criticism of the military staff responsible for national security; people were in panic. How would you feel safe after that?

After the 141 left the building back to the headquarters, the British intelligence team searched the ruins of the disaster looking for any indication of association of some terrorist group known to the incident. At first, nothing. Bombers usually leave no traces but a blast of blood and human flesh everywhere.

But then, an agent left the building with a piece of semi-destructed cloth in his hands. It was almost incomprehensible but soon they discovered a symbol in it. And to the most absolute disappointment of all, no soul even recognized the symbol in question. A new terrorist group.

Fuck.

While the population was hiding in fear, the press was rendering a disgrace to society and introducing even more chaos by spreading information that should be confidential. Soap was too distracted with their babbling to even listen to Price and Ghost’s conversation in the background. 

“She will need physiotherapy, and a good time to recover.” said the captain, releasing some smoke from his cigarette into the air. “She apparently suffered a nerve injury.” 

Ghost had his arms crossed, resting on the wall behind himself, facing Price. His eyes were fixed on the ground, as if he was thinking of something.

“I can imagine.” he whispered, with a head nod. “I hope it goes well. What these guys did there...” he closed his eyes and snorted, seeming nervous.

“Yeah... The press won’t give anyone no peace now. I get nervous just to think.” he grumbled as he threw his cigarette butt into the ashes. Ghost only shook his head negatively, in disapproval; in accordance with the captain’s speech. 

The silence that followed Price’s last words did not last more than five seconds before he spoke again.

“She asked about you.” he said, raising his eyes to Ghost. He was looking back at him this time. It was as if his words had caught his attention now. “Said she wanted to thank you personally.”

“She doesn’t need to. I just did my job.” he argued, pulling his back off  the wall and pulling one of the available chairs around. As he sat down, he grabbed a piece of a disassembled rifle that rested on the table, and went on with his work to clean it.

“I know that, but work sometimes involves accepting a bit of gratitude from other people for what you did for them, Riley. In this situation specifically.” Price raised his eyebrows, and watched the gun as Ghost cleaned it, his concentration quickly diverted from the conversation to the work he was doing. “You should go see her.”

“With all due respect, captain, I think the job of talking to the victims is anyone else's but mine.” he replied almost instantly.

“Maybe, maybe. But she wants to talk to you.” Price insisted.

Ghost released an annoyed, almost annoyed breath. 

“She doesn’t have to thank me. I know she’s grateful,” he tried to argue again, but the captain seemed irreducible for the moment. “Bloody hell, Price, hire a psychologist for once. She needs help, not to talk to me.” he continued, receiving nothing but silence in response.

“She wants you.” Price said, simply, unfazed by his upset behavior.

Ghost immediately stopped what he was doing and left the gun aside, the hand

supported on his knee, once again an uncomfortable breathing leaving his nostrils in a surely irritated mood now.

They would not understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; there would be no reason for it, no. Ghost didn’t want to see you again. He followed the whole moment the ambulance left you in the hospital along with the rest of his crew, was informed of your situation, and like all other soldiers, he was discharged after that.

His job was to rescue the victims who survived the attack. Not to talk to a victim, sketch some sort of feeling – even if it is false. He would need to say something, comfort you, or at least try to look positive. He would have to face the idea that getting in touch with your trauma could remind him some more of himself, could bring back past memories he wanted to bury. There was no good in it, no. He wasn’t a therapist, wasn’t built for it.

Although he wanted to, he couldn’t feel compassion for you. He couldn’t feel sorry – He thought it was an extremely illegitimating, invalid feeling. Affirming that someone was worthy of pity was almost like treating someone like garbage, no; he would rather die than have others pitying him, why would it be different with the people around him? He wasn’t the right person for that.

As if the universe laughed at his face, the moment the conversation between the two became silent and he raised his eyes to the television, the image of the building's debris was replaced by one of the only survivor of the attack; a recent photo you had taken in London, two months ago. You were smiling, you could still do that at that time. The screen displayed your name, while the reporter was now talking about you.

“It’s her; poor girl.” Soap said, turning a little to observe them, and turned up the volume. The news said something about your success in keeping yourself alive: you were treated as a great achievement, called a ‘miracle girl'; they were talking about you as a poor little girl, about how clever you were, in college studying to become a prestigious doctor. Ghost squeezed his jaw, his teeth gritted in a bitter taste inside his mouth. There was no miracle in what happened to you.

You were lucky. You were in the right place, at the right time. 

Two hundred people did not have the same luck.

A hundred and two people, men, women and children, were now dead. You had eternal marks engraved on your skin and soul. A miracle? He felt offended as if he were with himself — as if they were calling him a miracle for having survived all the painful events he had experienced so far.

“How dare they say this kind of thing?” he grumbled lowly. The other two shrugged their heads in denial, in disagreement.

“Fucking vultures.” it was Price’s turn to complain.

━ ⟡ ━

You had turned off the TV the moment you heard your own name. There was no reason you’d want to know, to to hear what they had to say about you. You didn’t want to hear them treat you as a mere victim of an incident, acting as if that disaster was all about you that mattered. You hated the way everything seemed to be reduced to that now: the attack.

The survivor. The only survivor. Your name didn’t matter anymore – you had become a martyr, and everyone treated you with caution, as if you were made of glass, as though it was impossible to get close to you without the risk of breaking it.

Since the silence established itself in the environment when you turned off the TV, all you heard was the static silence floating in the air, sound of little drops that flowed through your veins. Your mind had become vague, your thoughts made room for your imagination, you slowly fell asleep. There was a long time after you felt unconscious - you weren’t sure of how much exactly. Maybe two, maybe three hours. You had asked Doris to open the window before she let you rest alone in your room, and the wind was hitting your skin, still sensitive due to the excess of meds; the subtle cold you were feeling was making you feel alive.

The lights were off, and as soon as it became dark, the lights of the city reflecting through the window were no longer enough to light up the room belongings.

In that intense darkness and in the most absolute silence possible, the ghost that haunted your dreams was standing, tall as always, at the end of your bed. Haunting you. Silent like a snake approaching a possible victim, even his breath seemed to be controlled enough not to make a noise. His eyes, behind the mask, fixed on you; you slept quietly in a heavy sleep that was obviously the result of the strong medicines you were taking. He approached the bed a little, your hand was laying in your body side by the bed. So small.

Drop.

Drop.

The sound of the drops of IV falling through the bag invaded the environment as if it were the sounds of a giant walking. The big night silence had this effect on small sounds – it enlarged them. You heard the sound of the window closing inside your dreams, but that didn’t seem to wake you up. The cold wind no longer hit your skin, and you began to warm up.

How long has passed since the sound of the curtains closed you could not say; but what awakened you knew: it was the sounds of the door opening. You instinctively frightened and adjusted your posture in bed a bit abruptly, until you realized that the man who was entering — now unarmed though still dressed in his combat suit — was him. The Ghost.

He watched you in silence for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, the same serious and rough voice, the loaded British accent, different from your American one. “Forgive me.”

“You’re all right.” was all you could think of answering in the first moments. His eyes looked at you altogether; he was so tall that only his presence there made you feel intimidated, even if that was not his goal. “Don’t you want to sit?”

“I don’t intend to delay myself much.” He responded quickly, getting a little closer to the bed and sitting on one of the chairs next to him just to match your heights a little, imagining it should be uncomfortable for you, bending your neck to look at him standing. “Do you need something?”

“No. I’m fine now,” you whispered, sitting down. “I just wanted to thank you personally. I didn’t have time before, I- I just don’t think I was in good senses for it.” you admitted, holding your hands together on your lap.

“I just did my job.” he nodded, a serious air to his words. Ghost seemed like a man of few words, of few feelings too. His tone was monotone, always serious, seemingly stern sometimes. Made you feel like it was perhaps due to his habit of giving orders; he was a tenant, as Price told you. You knew little about the military hierarchy you had to admit, but the little knowledge was enough for you to know he did give orders. 

“I know, but... What you call ‘job’, to me was saving my life.” you seemed to try to remind him as if it was something obvious. “If I have any way to reward you for that, please tell me.”

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment and stretched his neck, shooking negatively.

“Again, I just did my job. You don’t have to reward me for that.” he said, looking at the flower vase that rested on the headboard table for a moment.

Simon noted that although there were thousands of gifts and tickets on the outside, sent by ordinary citizens in support of your situation - there were no balloons or any indication of a family or friendly gift inside your room. Only those flowers.

They were addressed to Anthony Miller. He assumed it would be your boyfriend.

“You don’t get it, Ghost. It’s not  about needing, it’s just something I want to do. It doesn’t have to be right now, you can tell me in the future if you need a favor or something like that.” 

“I don’t usually need favors.” he assured, snorting at your insistence, but trying to stay as polite and friendly as possible. He didn’t want to end up making you worse, did he? You were already sad enough. 

“Everyone needs favors. I also used to not need many before yesterday’s events.” You admitted, raising your eyebrows quickly and turning your gaze away.

“I didn’t do you a favor. I helped you, those are completely different things.” He shook negatively, irreducibly. “Any other decent soldier would do the same. You owe me nothing.” 

“Yes, but it was you. If it had been someone else then I’d like to thank this person.” you argued, and your stubbornness began to irritate him; he gave in compassion to your state and only sighed deeply.

“That’s all you have to treat with me, miss?” He asked, turning his head a little, and you corrected him; do not call me lady, you murmured, and instructed him to call you by your name.

You watched him in silence for a few seconds, before breathing deeply.

“Actually no. I have a request.” you said, in a whisper, and he shrugged his head as if giving you a positive one. “Can I see the face behind your mask?” You asked curiously.

“Negative.” He answered, almost immediately, without even giving you a chance to try to refute or argue. “I can’t show my face, and if it relieves you if anything, it’s not a nice image to look at,” he continued, rising up.

You were a little desperate for his sudden rising, hoping he would stay a little longer. Of all those people with whom you had talked so far — Price, Doris; he remained the one who seemed to please you into a conversation the most. You wanted to talk to him, because, unlike others, Ghost did not treat you like a porcelain doll.

He was treating you like any other person. 

“No, wait — you think you’re ugly, is that so? I don’t care.” you assured. “I doubt you’re ugly, to be honest.”

“I didn’t say that,” he raised an eyebrow, seeming to have your commentary somewhat amusing. You raised an eyebrow in response and laid your body on the pillows behind you.

“Wouldn’t you open an exception for me?” You asked, and he shook negatively. You closed your eyes, in a frustrated but accepting sigh.

“Well- you get well soon. Hear me, girl?” Ghost gently said, and walked a little further to the door, and stopped in his steps before leaving. He looked at you for a moment. “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I am. Why is it?” You asked curiously.

“Because your IV is running out, and without those pain meds, let me tell you...” he raised his eyebrows quickly. “Should I call your boyfriend or a nurse?” He asked, glaring at  you.

“Wait- my boyfriend?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows for a moment, and he remained silent. His hand stood up and pointed to the flowers next to the bed, as if he mentioned that the person who sent them should be your boyfriend. You eyed the flowers and let out a soft laugh.

“Ah, that... No, it’s not from a boyfriend.” You explained.

“Well, I’ll call some nurse then.” he said, his hand leaned on the door knocker and his fingers danced in unison, in a thoughtful expression. He looked at you again. “Stay safe.” he said, before his huge, broad figure disappeared through the door and the long hallway of the hospital leaving you once again lost to your thoughts, and alone.

Your eyes looked at your own hands for a few seconds, and you realized that they were pleasantly warm. You looked out the window, closed.

How strange was the fact that you didn’t remember having closed the window, thought to yourself. 

It could have been Doris. But your intuition said no.

[bubble-dream-inc]

Lemniscate (the place between sleeping and awake)

a chance encounter with your superior during a very lonely holiday season leads to an interesting conversation and an insight on yours and Ghost’s relationship.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 4,8k

a/n: i had to repost this bc tumblr was being fussy and hiding it oops. also i was listening to so handsome hello by woodkid while writing this so there’s my song rec for the day. i am down bad for this man someone help me! thank u loml @deafeningcat for being the best beta reader ever, always <3

warnings: explicit talk about death, war, trauma and violence, suggestive, profanity, ghost being ooc, sex as a coping mechanism for ptsd, heavy antimilitarism, angst to fluff, slight prey and size kink if you squint, non intentional liverpool slander, reader is part of 141, soap calls you "bonnie" once but otherwise no gender especified for reader, reader thinks they can fix him and is sorta emotionally dependent so its kinda toxic idk, intentional repeating of words, christmas/holidays ambience. MDNI

The puddles rippled under your boots, and right there under the faint street light which reflected the light drizzle of rain darkening the already pitch black night sky, you remembered how much you hate the holidays. Sure, it felt nice not having to worry that much about being ambushed or shot or killed for once, but you’d be lying if you said you looked forward to having time off from work. Having spent the last few years constantly living on edge, running solely on the primal instinct of survival for weeks on end had you addicted to the adrenaline, and you forgot what it’s like to be completely at ease a long time ago. 

You felt your skin dampen under your clothes in the humid air. You haven’t bothered with an umbrella; you have been through worse. Liverpool was never your cup of tea, the sky was too gray and the wind felt like tiny needles attacking your skin on the rare occasion it wasn’t raining, and in moments like these you missed the scorching summer sun from your hometown. But again, could you really call it home? That thought had been lingering in the back of your head as an ugly reminder of one of the shittiest parts of your job ever since a few days ago when the base you were stationed in was filled with the sound of rambunctious laughter and the smell of cheap cigarettes and beer, all of it a reflect of a mission well done. The intel was useful, the danger was dealt with, and your teammates could not be more grateful the timing was just right so that they could go spend some time off with their families for the holidays. You weren’t really thinking too hard about it, too absorbed in your teasing banter with Gaz, until Soap turned to you.

“What about you, bonnie? Where ya spendin’ your holidays at? Going home?”

You had shaken your head no with a chuckle, swallowing the bad taste the word home left in your mouth and masking your discomfort. Having all their attention on you as your team mates waited for your answer wasn’t inherently bad, but you did have to ignore Simon’s piercing stare from across the group, focusing only on Soap and trying to not give in to your instinct of looking back at your Lieutenant. As the years went by, you’d found out that was just the way that he was, and you had to learn how to differentiate when he actually wanted for someone to be scared by his constant, terrifying eye contact, and when to know he was simply looking in your general vicinity. Not that it worked that well, of course, since just his massive presence and the low timbre of his voice could make anyone’s fight or flight instinct blare sirens in their head, and yet, at some point you realized you liked it. You felt like a prey under his gaze, and the fact that it both terrified and excited you was intoxicating. 

“Nah. I’m heading to Liverpool, i think, as usual” 

Being in Liverpool for you was far from pleasant, but a few years before you decided to go there for your time off just because it was closer to the base you were stationed in and you had nowhere else to go, and it became a tradition, even if it sometimes felt like self punishment. It certainly seemed like it, you thought as you wandered aimlessly through a quieter part of the city, occasionally passing through a group of tipsy barely-of-age kids, or a happy looking family going back to the comfort of their cozy homes together. It made your chest ache, but the loneliness got duller after so much time being surrounded only by the 141 members and having to watch so many people you knew die on the front lines. 

“Do you regret it? Joining the military?”

You had asked Ghost one day after you two had to get holed up in a dingy safe house, trying to pass the time while waiting for exfil. He had stared at you for a few seconds, silently, and you wondered if you had crossed a line by asking something way too personal, but in a moment he was back to staring at the worn out coffee table in front of the couch you were in. 

“No. I did what had to be done at the time.” 

While somewhat cryptic, you accepted his answer without prying for more, but after a few seconds he looked back at you, not going unnoticed how his eyes looked a bit more tired than usual. 

“Do you?”

You remember sighing.

“Everyday. War is hell.” 

He only hummed in response, putting an end to the conversation that had barely been started, but your mind dwelled on your answer. It seemed like ages ago when you were a starry-eyed private, having been fooled by the military propaganda promising you’d be a hero, but that resolve quickly broke a few months later in your first mission, and you certainly didn’t feel like a hero after taking someone else’s life for the first time. 

Lost in thought as you walked, you almost paid no mind to the man in your path that was leaning towards a lamp post and having a cigarette, if not for the fact that even from a distance you could see he was massive. There was only one person you knew that seemed as tall as that, and that was your-

“Lieutenant?” You squinted, being pretty sure you couldn’t mistake your towering 6’4 masked superior over someone else, and he acknowledged you with a look. If he was surprised to see you, he didn't show it. “Liverpool sure is tiny, huh? I thought you were from Manchester.”

“I am.”

His answers were rarely something other than short and dry, and he knew you knew better than to pry into his own personal reasonings, even because you also had no real reason to stick around that city and yet there you were. Still, the laidback-ish atmosphere of being between missions made it easier for you to act a little more daring than usual, treading lightly as you questioned him, unable to hold back your curiosity. Alas, you found yourself hypnotized by the way Simon’s full lips wrapped around his cigarette as he took a slow drag, waiting for you to say something.

“Heading somewhere?” Your voice sounded foreign even to yourself, and you didn’t know whether to blame the cold, the awkwardness of feeling like you were bothering your superior on his time off, or the way just being by his general vicinity made your chest ache with a feeling you hadn’t quite been able to name yet, but you shrugged all of it off and focused on trying to act as normally as possible.

“Not really. Are you?”

“Not really” You mimicked his words, smiling faintly and wanting to imagine that you actually saw mirth in his eyes. “Lookin’ for a pub that’s still open, but I'm not having too much luck with it.” You paused, unable to stop the next words that came out of your mouth. “Care to join me?”

Ghost pondered your bold request for a moment before putting out his cigarette by stepping on it and nodding with his head for you to lead the way. His way of communicating with so little words made you uneasy at first, but nowadays you’d find it endearing. 

And that’s how you ended up in a beaten up looking pub near the port, sitting side by side with Simon by the bar, acutely aware of the bartender eyeing you two warily. You weren’t sure if he was angry for the fact that the bar actually had customers, which meant he couldn’t go enjoy time off at home, or if he was intimidated by Ghost. Maybe both. It was an otherwise cozy little pub, the warm lighting and the low ceiling made you feel slightly comforted by your surroundings, even if there were only three other customers around and the air smelled of burnt oil and deep fried food. You tapped your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar while waiting for the grumpy bartender to bring your beer, comfortable with the silence between you and Simon. When it arrived, you watched with a side eye, trying to be discreet, as he raised his mask slightly to take a sip of his bourbon, even if you knew he had noticed you.

Ghost’s face was somewhat familiar to you. Less than his body, admittedly.

There were a handful of times you had seen him without his mask, but you had barely committed its features to memory since it had mostly been in the dark confines of his quarters - which made you think how nice it must be to have a rank high enough to have your own room - and in times where staring at his face was not the first thing on your mind. It didn’t matter anyway, knowing he really was handsome after all under the balaclava didn’t change how your chest would tighten at the sight of him way before you dreamt of seeing his whole face.

Being alone with your superior was hardly foreign at this point, after so many years and everything you had been through together, and while you had never said it directly to him, his company was enjoyable. You remember clearly; It had happened the first time during mid summer after a mission gone particularly wrong in Somalia. One hour in the shower later, scrubbing your skin raw, you still felt dirty and grimy, as if you believed you could let go along with the blood-dirtied water the screams of all the civilians you had heard and the image ingrained into your brain of all the innocent people lying dead on the streets, massacred without a second thought. You tried showering, smoking, drinking, going for a walk, talking to your fellow team mates - all of them who looked just about as shaken as you were - but nothing could get your mind off of it. Mid walk, you had rounded a corner inside the base and locked eyes with Ghost, who was coming from the opposite direction, and, for reasons unknown, something instantly changed in the air between you. Sure, you had flirted a bit and perhaps given some indication of your attraction towards him before, but at that moment maybe you looked more distraught than you thought, and in only a split second after the very sudden eye contact, a non-verbal agreement was set, and quickly you found yourself glued to his broad chest, his hand lifting his mask just enough so you could connect your lips in a messy and aggressive kiss as he guided you to the door of his room. There’s no way to tell how long you were there for, but as you felt him blindly in the dark to hug his neck while he was inside you for the nth time, you were grateful he didn’t comment on your sobs that you now allowed to flow as freely as your tears, and, in turn, you didn’t comment on how tender your huge, scary superior could be, holding your face gently and whispering praises, comforting you the best he could. 

It became something akin of a habit. At first it was just fucking to destress or to not have to deal in a proper way with all the trauma that came with your line of work, but then you started to linger. His touches became gentler, his big hands would stroke your skin instead of just gripping it hard enough to bruise, and you found yourself staring at his strong and scarred back one morning as he slept somewhat soundly beside you. Your hands itched to trace them, and at the moment you decided you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed, literally, with your superior more often, it was when you also realized you were fucked. To the others, surely it looked just like a very unethical and paperwork-worthy sexual tension, but you weren’t stupid, and not a teenager anymore, so you couldn’t find any excuses for the lingering glances and touches, how you started worrying more for him in battlefield, and you didn’t know if it was comforting or terrifying for you to think that he probably realized what was going on inside your head whenever he looked back at you, even if his hardened and unreadable gaze never faltered. Some nights, you’d find yourself alone in your cot wondering if you were imagining it all or if the longing you felt for his reciprocity was too delusional, and the thought made your throat ache in the worst way possible. You knew it was a bad idea, but you were unable to restrain yourself from finding your way back to his bed more often than not - and whenever he’d open the door for you when the base was already dead silent, realizing he also seemed glad to see you made all of your rational thoughts go out the window. 

“Quit the starin’.” 

Oh. Right. You were still looking at him. You muttered out a low sorry and looked down at your cup, well aware of Simon’s gaze burning holes into your face. So much for not staring.

“Why don’t you ever go home?”

There’s that word again. You wondered if your experience with feeling so stateless after fleeing from the place you used to call your own such a long time ago was that uncommon between soldiers, and suddenly the beer in your tongue didn’t taste that bitter anymore. 

“It was just a place like any other. I’m afraid there hasn’t been anythin’ for me there in a while, so i guess i don’t really got one anymore.” 

But again, you did wonder why Simon was all the way over to Liverpool and not Manchester, and a part of you selfishly hoped you weren’t alone with the gut wrenching feeling of not belonging anywhere but your base. Not that he’d ever admit to something like that. Simon was not the kind of man to say his thoughts clearly, or with words, for that matter.

“No family? Friends?” 

Chuckling dryly, you’d let yourself linger a bit longer on Ghost’s sudden interest in actually knowing you more than physically if his bluntness didn’t amuse you in a bitter way.

“People realize really quickly how hard it is to keep relationships with someone who’s gone for months on end, and could very well be dead in a ditch the next time you try to call. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Simon said nothing in response, but his gaze on you seemed to soften a bit. Experiencing him outside of the battlefield was the kind of thing that would surely give you whiplash, years of military experience and living through horrors beyond comprehension would, of course, make him have a dangerous and reserved aura 24/7, but watching him let loose just a little bit and allow himself to be minimally vulnerable through his gaze and casually, softer spoken words were a new sort of fascinating. He was never the kind of person to ask things out of politeness, no, he was brazen and direct, so his genuine curiosity in you made it difficult to calm your already palpitating heartbeat. 

Under the lights of a very dimly lit pub in East Liverpool, you were seeing not Ghost, not your Lieutenant, but only Simon Riley. You came to the conclusion you really liked this side of him. So, you decided to take your chances and prod a little bit more.

“What about you, Lieutenant? Where is home for you?”

“Classified.”

You chuckled, and a tiny, barely-there smirk formed on his lips before he hid it with the rim of his bourbon glass. It was worth a try.

You lost track of how long you were sitting there, in silence, just listening to the static-ish audio of the shitty television on the corner of the bar or the idle chat of other patrons, occasionally muttering something to Ghost, but it all felt superficial. You wanted to jump him, to strip him bare, not of his clothes, but of all of him that was a façade, and lay down every word left unsaid. Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted him to let you care for him the way he cared for you. For every time he’d wordlessly patch up your wounds in a dirty alleyway, push you out of a sniper’s line of sight or bark orders for you to get to fucking safety, you wanted to help him through each nightmare (that he thought you didn’t notice it plagued his nights more often than not, leaving him restless the next day), and hold him close when the throes of carrying a whole team and an entire life of trauma on his back became too much to bear on his own. You felt like a fool, pining over a man who made no effort to hide how little he trusted people.

Soon enough, the pub grew quieter and more devoid of people, and at some point you and Ghost decided the bartender’s gaze was way too unwelcoming, as he clearly wanted to go home, so you wordlessly decided to go back to your aimless wandering. A few of your old army colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to pull off their military card to get what they wanted, whenever and however they wanted, but just the thought made your stomach turn in disgust. Your blood stained hands didn’t feel like the ones of a hero that deserved to be pampered. 

“Why are you still here anyway?”

He had asked you a few days after your conversation in that dingy safehouse. You had found yourself brushing shoulders side by side together after you went out for a smoke in the base, running into him leaned against a parked truck, lost in thought. For some reason, the question made you feel ashamed to meet his eyes, even if his tone wasn’t accusatory; just curious.

“I feel like it’s too late for me. I’ve seen too much. There’s nothing else I know how to do at this point.”

Your tongue felt like lead inside your mouth. A part of you longed for an early retirement so you could live a quiet and monotonous life somewhere in the countryside, but you also knew most people with your lifestyle wouldn’t live enough to see retirement.  Alas, deep inside you felt like it was impossible to not grow restless if you were to live a life free of the adrenaline you embraced as a vice. It felt hypocritical, suffering over the consequences of your own choices, but God knows you’d leave in a heartbeat if you weren’t already too far deep in. You’d suppose becoming a soldier had its good sides, though, even if just the idea of finding any comfort in your work made you uneasy. Surely you’d never have met the 141 otherwise and, consequently, made them your little dysfunctional found family. You’d hold onto that for the sake of your sanity. On your side, Ghost hummed, acknowledging what you were saying, and maybe you’d find he could relate to your feelings, somehow. 

“It’s difficult to let go of a whole life of violence.”

His words had stuck with you, as wise and cryptic in a way only he managed to pull it off.

Outside, the drizzle seemed to have gotten a bit stronger in the last few hours, but neither of you cared enough for it. It didn’t feel that bad compared to the storms that rained over you in open fields or the mud you’d have to crawl across to stay hidden sometimes. You’d feel pretty stupid if this little rain actually got you sick, but that was a worry for future you. It didn’t even cross your mind to ask Ghost if you were heading somewhere, you just followed him blindly, analyzing him in silence and noticing he looked good in civilian clothes, the plain black hoodie fitting him perfectly. From the little distance you walked besides him, you could notice he was smelling good, a mixture of cologne and his natural musk which you were already very well acquainted with.

The street was clearly in a commercial district, and it felt even quieter than the one you were before. All the stores were closed with only a faint night light illuminating a few of their interiors, and you appreciated the faint smell of the sea by being somewhat close to the port. 

You enjoyed the stillness of it all and the lack of people to make you jealous with their normal, happy lives. 

Subconsciously, you barely noticed that you ended up scooting even closer to Simon as you walked, happy he didn’t seem to mind it. 

Suddenly, he stopped mid-walk, and you became hyper aware of how much you were staring at him. God, you felt like a creep. After a second, he spoke in a murmur, not turning to look at you.

“Since when?”

You waited for him to elaborate what he meant, but it never came. Chuckling nervously, you peered up at him, confused.

“Since when…what?”

Finally, he turned to look at you with something indescribable in his eyes. It made you feel small, like he wanted to devour you, but it also made your heart leap in your chest, like he wanted to devour you. 

“I know how you feel about me. You��re not very subtle about it. I’m not bloody stupid, kid. ”

Your head snapped towards him at his harsh words, even if his low voice and gentle-ish tone didn’t quite reflect the true nature of them, but any witty reply you had died down once you saw how his eyes were downturned in unease.

Oh.

Oh.

You realized what he’s talking about, and turns out your late night musings were right - at least part of them. Simon leaves no opening to figure out by his body language what the bringing up of the topic means to him. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he will reject you and reprimand you for being unprofessional (as if loving him was more unprofessional than fucking your superior). Maybe-

“I’m…not sure.” You admit, refusing to meet his steely gaze. “It just…happened. Stopped being just casual sex a while ago.”

His silence makes seconds feel like hours. You try to control your labored breathing by listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain that’s back to drizzling on the store awning you’re both under. A part of you wishes the rain would suddenly get so strong it would break the awning and drag you away with the current from Simon’s soul-crushing silence. You feel stupid, foolish.

Fool, fool, fool-

He closes the distance between your bodies. Having never paid much detailed attention to the rare occasions when gloves didn’t adorn his hands outside the bedroom, you suddenly notice how much his palms feel a pleasant kind of rough and calloused when they don’t carry the intent of ravaging you, so big against your face as he gently cradles you. Of course, he knows you’re a soldier, not some porcelain doll to be easily broken, but God knows how much seeing him hold you as if you’re something precious makes your once-labored breathing come to a halt altogether. His eyes are soft, half lidded, and uncertain on you as he murmurs out sorrowfully.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, kid.”

For the first time ever, you feel like you’re the only person who’s ever seen Simon Riley look scared. You don’t know if he’s afraid of hurting you or the other way around.

Instinctively, your own hands gingerly go to the top of his in a light caress, and you fight against the urge to close your eyes and breathe in his musk as you lean into his touch. This up close he also smells faintly like cigarettes.  

“Maybe not.” You admit, and you hope he can notice the way you look up at him with hearts in your eyes and willing to wear your own on your sleeve. “But I want to find out.”

He doesn’t really smile - he almost never does - , but his gaze holds a promise in it, a vow. One of his hands leaves your face to hike up his mask, and you expect it to stop just below his nose, as always, but he keeps going until it rests on top of his dirty blonde hair, making your breath hitch once again. You were wrong about him; you didn’t need to strip him bare, no, you realize he’d do it for you if you asked. A long time ago you decided you didn’t give a shit about how his face looked, but you made sure to take a good look at him, finally committing his features to memory, acknowledging his trust in you and also how much you really were a fool by underestimating it before. The stubble on his jaw feels coarse under your fingertips, and you indulge yourself by lightly tracing the scar on his lip the way you wanted to do with all of his marks ever since that morning. It occurs to you that even when the hookups turned into something more, you had never seen him so vulnerable, and it sets an equally giddy and unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, as if you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, but you weren’t about to question his resolve. Taking the reins - as he always does - his lips are on yours in an instant, and you swear you’d die happily at that instant.

The way he kisses you is something new, slow and passionate, as if trying to savor every piece of you at his pace and communicate what he doesn’t know how to put into words. You’d kissed before, sure, but it was always animalistic, an aggressive dance filled with wanton growls deep from his throat and your involuntary whines whenever he would bite your lip - a gazelle in the jaws of a lion - and in the occasions sex was tender, it was most likely because something bad had happened, and you’d hide your face in the crook of his neck so he could pretend not to notice how much you needed it - him -  to cope and how much his touch kept you grounded; you’d like to imagine yours made him feel something of the sorts as well. Simon Riley was not the type of man to engage in raw emotional affairs without getting something out of it. And yet, as you close your eyes to hug his neck, bringing his large body impossibly closer to yours, you feel like he is finally giving all of him to you in the rawest way he knows how to. Of course, you’re not teenagers, and with the way of life you lead, emotional attachment can make any soldier feel dreadful for their future, so it would be foolish to expect a full on love confession in the rain, but, if anything, you suddenly realize you can feel Simon’s heart beating fast on his chest through your own, and that is enough for you, making you smile against him. 

When you separate, there’s still minimal distance between you two, the air around you feels lighter, and you surround yourself in affection by the way Simon looks down at you adoringly. Any outsider would be quick to say he has the look of a stone cold predator, and he is as unreadable as they come, but once you start dealing with the true man under the mask - even if only figuratively -, you realize that his eyes are truly the window of his soul, and any words left unspoken you’d die to uncover are visible in his dark hues the moment he looks at you. A few blocks away, a clock tower strikes midnight and you spare the building a look from where you can see it.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.” You murmur, knowing full well religious holidays are neither yours or Simon’s thing. The irony of it all is lost when he huffs out a small noise of amusement and distances himself just enough to extend his arm for you to take, his gaze never leaving your form. You could point out he hasn’t really lowered his mask yet but you enjoy the view too much so you might as well indulge in it while he doesn’t remember to do so. His bicep is thick and strong under your fingers as you grip him gently, and he nods forward beyond the awning.

“It stopped raining. Let's get going.”

[blubushie]

i've seen some blogs i follow say that misandry isn't real and men aren't opressed for being men and honestly the former doesn't sit right with me. misandry is not systemic like misogyny but your answers about your experiences prove that it does indeed happen in queer spaces. masculine queer men have to prove that they aren't a threat by making themselves a walking gay caricature.

Hell men aren't just oppressed in female-dominant "cultures" (like queer spaces) but they're also oppressed by patriarchy and, in some ways, legally. They're just not oppressed in the same way women are.

Men are considered inherently stronger/better, which means women can't compete with us, which means any time a man is a victim of a woman it's automatically his fault for ALLOWING himself to be. How are you, a man, gonna let a woman hit you? (It's because even if you defend yourself, and you make the call the police, YOU'LL be arrested as the aggressor. It's your word against hers, and in domestic violence they will always favour hers.)

We are simultaneously shit on for defending ourselves, because how dare a man ever put his hands on a woman even in self defence, but at the same time if we DON'T do that, it's our fault for being abused because we didn't "resist" our abuser. This is the male version of being asked about what you were wearing when you were victimised. The only way men are ALLOWED to be recognised as victims is if you're a child and your abuser is an adult man. If it's an adult woman? Hell, kid, you're lucky.

A lot of people think men can't be raped—either because we "always want sex", or because we're expected to physically resist our rapist and win. Contrast this to women, who are told to piss themselves or scream, or just take it because maybe if you do your rapist won't kill you. (If you ask me a firearm makes a helluva equaliser, but that's a conversation for another day.) Legislation even reflects this—in the UK, for example, according to UK law, it isn't possible for a women to rape a man unless she penetrates him with an object. A woman violently raping a man, even a child, by restraining him or otherwise and forcing him into penetrating her, is merely considered sexual assault and carries a much lighter sentence than rape.

And that really sucks for someone like me, who was raped by two women while I was drunk. Who didn't even realise I was raped until a mate explained it to me, because it's normalised that women can have sex with a drunk man and that's not considered rape—not even if he blacks out and asks them to stop when he wakes up, and they keep going while he blacks out again. Like what happened to me. An even bigger kicker—a man is always considered responsible in sex. So if a drunk man and a drunk woman both agree to sex while both are intoxicated, legally HE is raping HER despite both being unable to actually consent.

This in addition to men being expected to be sole providers for a home by society—look at the current rise of women looking for a sugar daddy or red-flagging a man because he only has one car instead of two, or of men never being favoured in family court even when the mother is unable to care for the children or is abusive, or how women will weaponise visitation against fathers for spite because they know the court will side with her regardless of how good of a father he is, or the lack of men's shelters, or how DV shelters won't take women with minor children who are boys older than 12 so a woman has to either go back to her abuser with her children or leave her sons behind alone with an abusive father, of people laughing at the male loneliness epidemic and treating it like a good thing/deserved reckoning instead of recognising it as a warning sign for a flood of lost teens and young men drifting down the Andrew Tate or rapist incel misogyny pipeline, of people laughing at men's mental health month posts and outright encouraging men to commit suicide under them while men already statistically commit suicide at a higher rate than women...

Men are oppressed in some ways, I'd argue some of those ways are systemic, but no one talks or cares about it. There was a feminism wave in the 90s of "patriarchy harms everyone", which is true, but now we're on a different wave of "men are biologically evil", which is absolutely batshit fucking insane and helps no one. Bioessentialism helps no one. (Plus it's transphobic and intersexist.)

Anyway I'm gonna go back to working on my ute now.

[cellythefloshie]

;; All I Want Dedicated to @callsign-denmark for her birthday bingo

Summary: This year, to make it easy on her family, Claire is celebrating her birthday in Raleigh. She would prefer a more private event, something just for family, but when your brother was the Captain of an NHL team: family extended to a roster of 21 she barely knew - including goaltender Frederick Andersen. M's Bingo Card Tropes: Whirl-wind romance, Captain’s sister, FreeSpace - children/babies (Claire's nieces and nephews), “Let’s celebrate tonight”, “please stay”, Summer Birthday Kinks & TW: age gap, love at first sight, soulmates, in public (briefly), thigh riding, alcohol consumption (no mentions of intoxication), sundress season, virginity/first time, size kink/height difference (5'2 & 6'4), vaginal fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (are we even going to pretend to be surprised by this?), implied heels kink, pet name: flower. Original Character: Claire is the baby sister of the Staal family. Face Claim: Dove Cameron. Word Count: 8.6k+ A/N: Happy birthday girlie! I hope that this little (ha) story I've put together for you fulfils your birthday bingo dreams and more! Also, damn you! The sinful things I thought about this man while writing this. There is no going back after this one. And full disclosure this was based solely on like 1 interview I watched and a handful of pictures on the internet because I know next to nothing about Freddie BUT I like to think I did a pretty damn good job with him. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to celebrate your day with you! 🎉

Playlist.

Claire didn’t like big birthday parties, but when you were a Staal you didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. Her parents were always in attendance, then came her four older brothers, and with them their wives, and their children. You would think that it would have stopped there, but when your brothers all played in the NHL - and when one happened to be the Captain of the team in the very city she was holding her little get-together - players or two were bound to show up as family. Claire didn’t mind all that much, she liked the guys Jordan played with and it always made for an entertaining night - even if that meant feeling like a bystander at her own birthday party. 

Without knowing for sure just how many people would show up, her parents had taken the opportunity to reserve a private patio as her restaurant of choice - and it made Claire all the more sound with her choice to wear the light and flowy blue sundress patterned with daisies. It had been a dress she had been looking for an excuse to wear. The skirt of the dress stopped just above her knees, and the bodice was fitted to show her figure without being too heavy on her skin. The Carolina heat would weigh on her enough throughout the evening, she didn’t need an uncomfortable outfit to ruin her night. Instead, she would leave that to her shoes. 

Claire was small. Standing merely 5’2, she had been dwarfed by every single one of her brothers who stood at 6’4. The moment she had stopped growing, she had committed to a lifetime of being someone who had to wear heels. She wore them wherever she needed them, no matter how uncomfortable or impractical they may be, and had mastered the art of walking and running in them. Which was already coming in handy as the night was young as she was chasing around her all too energetic nieces and nephews. 

For the most part, the 12 children, varying in ages, could entertain themselves - or were glued to the hips of their mothers as they were too young or too shy to venture out onto the open patio space around the table. But Claire, she had a reputation to uphold. As the youngest child, who was proudly single, she was the embodiment of the Fun Aunt. She spoiled them with gifts and wasn’t one to shy away from being a little too rambunctious - even if that meant drawing a little too much attention as everyone arrived. 

“Look who we have here,” the voice had Claire perking up from where her nieces and nephews came at her in an onslaught of affection, demanding to be picked up and swung around or carried on her back, “an overgrown child.”

The playful jab had her beaming, a smile bright as a ray of sunshine as her eyes fell on the culprit, “Brady!”

Skjei had only been on Carolina for a few seasons, but with his history playing with the Rangers alongside her brother Marc, he was a familiar face at family gatherings. “You made it,” she lowered one of the children back to the ground, giving the others a quick apology as she excused herself to greet the Carolina Hurricanes defenceman to her party. 

“Of course,” he smiled, his arms opening wide to welcome Claire into his embrace, “biggest bash of the off-season, when have I ever missed it?”

For a moment, she pondered in his arms. Lips pursed her head tilted from side to side. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she had a birthday without him being there. Marc had invited him all the way back in Skjei’s rookie season when it had been her sweet sixteen. She had a schoolgirl crush on him back then, but now she couldn’t look at him without seeing more than another brother. 

“Never, ever,” she decided after a moment and stepped back from his hold, “so what did you get me?”

Brady scoffed as if she had offended him, “You mean I’m not enough?” Claire shook her head slowly, bouncing her feet with anticipation as she held her hands behind her back. She looked misleadingly sweet, and innocent when in reality she was far from it. “Alright, alright, you got me. Mom took it from me when I got in. You’ll know it’s from me when you open it.” 

“Oh, so it’s a good one,” Claire laughed.

“They always are, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” she pushed his chest playfully before leaning off to the side to look around him, “didn’t drag the team along with you this time?”

“Not many of the guys back in town yet,” he hummed, looked back over his shoulder to where the brothers had gathered, “just Derek and Freddie-”

Claire perked up, “who?”

She knew who, well kind of. Frederick Andersen had been the team’s primary goaltender - except when his injuries had plagued the season - since was signed back in 2021. And while it had been years since that initial contract, she had yet to meet him. Which was a damn shame, because from what she could tell he was gorgeous. 

“You haven’t met Freddie?” Brady raised a brow, his arm around to cradle your back as you both turned in place to try to find him in the crowd. Which wasn’t all that difficult when he towered as tall as her brothers. Her eyes settled on him as he stood by the table with her brother Jordan, and glass in his hand as the two of them shared conversation. Just the sight of the towering Danish goaltender left her stomach aflutter with butterflies. He really was gorgeous with his strawberry blonde hair that was slicked back like James Dean and a smile that left her weak in the knees. 

“Com’on then, let’s go meet him,” Brady’s words were a mere echo in her mind as he pressed against her lower back to ease her into her stride.

She followed his guidance carefully, her every stride bringing her closer to Freddie, and giving her eyes something more to admire. First, she noticed the stubble that framed those lips that she was sure could talk her into anything. Then, was how his t-shirt hung off the strength of his shoulders peaked at his chest before hanging loose around his west. Her eyes travelled down over his hips and she had half the mind to stop there but then she saw her thighs. Claire was left near salivating that how they tested the elasticity of his denim jeans. She had no doubt that they were thick - strong and it only left her wishing he had been wearing shorts just so she could indulge in the sight of them. To see how they flexed when he walked, or how they would spread over his seat as he sat-

“Earth to Claire!” Her mind had been lost, her gaze up on the watercolour skies as her mind wondered only for Jordan’s humoured tone to cut through and end any sinful thought that threatened to overtake her. “You alright there kiddo?”

Claire wrinkled her nose, at the nickname. She was very much a grown woman now, and it was still a nickname she could shake thanks to being the baby of the family. Yet, she didn’t fight him on it and instead spoke out in a soft, apologetic hum, “I’m sorry, I must have just gotten distracted. The sky is just beautiful right now, isn’t it.”

“She is,” the unfamiliar voice left her head snapping in its direction. The two, simple words had slipped from Freddie’s lips, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had heard them right. Surely, her mind was playing tricks on her and he had said it and not she. Right?

“What was that?” she cocked her head at him, her bright blue eyes raising to meet the sweet chocolate hue of his stare for the first time. Claire had only meant to indulge herself in a quick glance, but the moment her eyes found his her stare was locked for his gaze was down on her as well. The air around her seemed to be lost, her lungs suffocating on the mere presence of him as she waited for even a single word to leave his perfect lips. 

Claire watched as his smile waivered on his lips, curling from a small smirk to a wider grin before settling back into that smug smirk again. She knew in an instant that he wasn’t going to get the answer she was looking for. Instead, she was met by the reach of his large hand, and let his lips part in a simple introduction, “Freddie.”

Her brows were drawn together at the offer - a handshake, really? What was this? A business meeting? Yet, she humoured him, her hand left feeling dainty as it was consumed by his touch. It engulfed her like the overwhelming embrace of an ocean wave. Lungs struggled to take even a single breath as the warmth of his touch consumed every inch of her body. Then, she was lost in his gaze, drawing in every bit of his attention and drowning in it.  Claire held his hand for too long, she knew it and she was sure her brother had noticed too, and yet her touch on his hand remained as she finally manages a slow and steady breath before saying nothing more than her own name.  

“The birthday girl,” Freddie hummed out, and her stomach fluttered. 

Something told Claire that he could call her anything and she would be left swooning. 

“That’s right,” Claire hummed her fingers still lingering on his, failing to let go of his hand, “and I think that means you have to get me a drink.”

Claire hadn’t meant to be so flirtatious with her words, especially not with her brother and Brady standing right there. Yet it left her lips so shamelessly, and her boldness hasn’t failed her. 

Gripping her fingers between his own, Freddie drew her in just close enough to wrap her arm around his so that she held onto the breadth of his forearm so he could guide her off to the bar - leaving Jordan and Brady behind them before either could interject. Her delicate fingers gripped gently at his strength, her heart both dreading having to let go of him and racing at just how he felt between her touch. Touching him felt like the first sip of water after days of needing to drink. It was unlike anything Claire had ever felt from something so simple and it left her breathless as she came to the bar. 

His words were an echo in her mind as he ordered his drink, and then his gaze came down on her again, patiently waiting for her to tell him just what she liked to drink. 

“Paloma, please,” she muttered sweetly, her hand still on his arm as she looked only to him with little acknowledgement to the bartender. 

And when their order was made, and they were left to stand and wait patiently at the bar, Freddie turned so that he was facing her fully and his towering frame leaned up against the bar. The casual tilt brought him a little closer to her level, giving her a good look at the smirk on his lips and the glimmer in her eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke and just stared. Claire with undoubtedly smitten with him - and maybe if she believed in love at first sight, this would be it. Because the way he stared at her with those sweet brown eyes of his had her convinced that he was feeling it all too. 

“So, birthday girl,” Freddie finally hummed as his frosted glass of amber liquor was placed down in front of him and alongside it the grapefruit garnish contrasted it with its femininity, “what are we drinking to?”

Her hand reached out, tracking hold of the glass before raising it between them, “To my brother for having such generous teammates.”

Freddie chuckled lowly, his large hand wrapping around his glass before he raised it between them. Together they took a shallow sip, their eyes locked. It was almost enough to make her choke, but she managed a slow breath and maintained her composure. 

“Now, hard question,” Claire hummed, taking a small step in, “How’d I get so lucky to have you as a guest at my party?”

She watched as his smile grew as he stole another sip of his drink, “contract negotiations,” he answered simply. 

“I think that means we will have to toast to Don as well.”

“We can save that one for when I sign.”

“Which means I’ll need your phone number,” she bit her tongue as she realized what she had just so blatantly done. She could feel her cheeks flush with colour, her heart thundering with regret. Claire knew better than to hit on her brother’s teammates. For their sanity and her own - and the safety of the poor player who even wanted to take the risk of toying with her heart. Yet, she persisted, “You know, so we can celebrate.”

Placing his glass down, Freddie dipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone before it joined his drink in the bar. His silent question asked Claire to put her number in his phone. 

Claire glanced to the side, across the patio to where her brothers were talking with Derek and Brady. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Placing her drink down, she took his phone in both hands and typed in her name and number before hanging it back to him. Claire had expected him to tuck the phone away but took the time to text her quickly. Sending her phone into a dreamy chime with the notification. It was a sound she had come to hate, but now it excited her. 

“You think I gave you a fake number?” She teased him gently. 

“No, no,” Freddie chuckled, his head shaking slowly, “not at all, I-”

His words were broken by the clamour of children’s footsteps as her nieces and nephews stormed the table for dinner. “I think that our queue,” Claire’s words were a half sigh as she drew her hand back from his forearm. The moment she released him from her gentle touch it was as if she were a battery that had been charged but her current was beginning to fade. It was a feeling unlike any other she had felt before, and her gaze on him lingered for a moment as she wondered if he felt it too. 

Managing a smile she stepped back and fell into stride towards the table, leaving Freddie at the bar behind her. Her lips moved in a silent What the fuck? as her mind couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened, and what she had just let herself do. She carried her Paloma in one hand, while the other reached up to push her blonde hair from her face. It stayed there, her fingers knotted in her hair at the crown of her head as she moved to sit at the head of the table. 

Seat by seat the table was filled until a single seat was left to be taken at her side, and one person remained standing. Claire held her breath as the patio chair was dragged against the ground and filled by Freddie who had come to the table with a fresh drink for them both. He placed it down in front of her without a thought or a look in her direction, leaving her jaw slacked in disbelief - but she was quick to press her lips firm together when she noticed her nephew mimicking her as he sat opposite to Freddie. 

Claire’s lips curled up into a smile as her nephew grinned at the realization that he had been caught. “You gotta be on your best behaviour mister,” she told her nephew, leaning in to smile at him, but it only made him laugh. While it was her birthday she got stuck sitting at the kid’s end of the table. If the kid was old enough to eat without the help of their parents they were exiled to her end of the table, which often featured at least one of her brother’s wives, but tonight the Carolina goaltender had filled their place. 

“I’m not joking,” Claire claimed, and it only had her nephew grinning a troublemaker’s grin, “we got a guest with us, Mr. Andersen. You don’t want to scare him away do you?”

Holy fuck. She thought. Mr. Andersen. It felt so weird, yet so good on her tongue and it left her head spiralling as she helped her nephew with his menu. Freddie Andersen. Frederick Andersen. Mrs. Frederick Andersen. The thought left her feeling giddy as the name echoed in her mind as if she were a schoolgirl scrawling his name across her notebook. That’s what this had to be, a schoolgirl crush of an infatuation. It was the only explanation for it all. 

With that thought, she tried to put all she had felt for him that evening behind her. To forget the anomaly that was her intense pull to him - but there was no ignoring him as he sat right beside her with the spread of his legs just enough to graze against her leg beneath the table. There was no ignoring how easy the casual conversation came between them, or just how good he was with her nieces and nephews when their antics carried out throughout the dinner service. Freddie fit in so effortlessly, so flawlessly that it was as if he had been there the whole time. That fact left Claire dreading having to say goodbye. 

It was a heavy weight in her stomach as she stood at the door of the restaurant, thanking her family and friends for coming. Her nieces and nephews were the first to accept their hugs, sad that they had to say goodbye to their Auntie Claire, but they were tired and didn’t put up much of a fight when they were told to get in the car. The crowd thinned and soon she was left with her parents, and with Freddie who lingered back by the door. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she told her parents she wanted to take a walk before heading back to the hotel. To go on without her, and when they left her she stood alone with a single gift bag in her hand. Then, she looked straight at Freddie. 

“Did you think I was going to let you run off before I got to say goodbye?” Claire called out to him, her casual stride carrying him toward him. 

He met her halfway, a smile on his lips, “quite the opposite, actually.”

Claire beamed. He had been waiting to catch her alone. 

“Let's celebrate tonight, just the two of us?” Claire asked him slowly, her hand dipping into the bag to brandish a bottle of Canadian whiskey that Brady had given her for her birthday. 

His eyes seemed to flicker with the light of a flame as his hand dinner into the pocket of his trousers. Drawing out his keys he held them up for her to see, “Where do you want to go?”

“I have a room at the Residence Inn,” Claire told him, with a smile and let him lead the way to his car. 

Upon arriving at the hotel, and with his car taken care of by the valet, Claire lead him through the hotel but did not go up to her room. The night was too beautiful to waste it in bed, and it would have been much too forward - though she wouldn’t have complained if that was all Freddie had wanted from her - instead, she lead him out to the darkened patio. It was closed, but she slipped beneath the half-assed barricade and crawled up onto one of the loungers in the corner just out of sight of the security camera she was sure hadn’t worked in the first place. 

Chuckling, Freddie followed her lead - much more gracefully than she had expected - and sprawled out on the lounger across from her. The seat was too short for him, his foot handing off the end even as he was seated up at an angle. Claire could help but stare as he sat there, his auburn hair hanging down over his forehead and his clothes so relaxed on his frame. So effortlessly handsome, she admired him as she reached into her gift bag and grew out the bottle. Manicured fingers picked at the plastic that sealed the bottle, and she let it fall to the ground before twisting the cap free. She took the first, long sip and let the whiskey burn its way through her body before holding it out for Freddie to take. 

His large hand wrapped around the neck of the body, his fingers grazing over the skin of her hand for a moment before she could pull back. Claire could still feel the ghost of his touch as she lay back and stared up at the sky. Just beyond an awning, and around the sun umbrella they had forgotten to close when their service had come to an eye, the night sky was filled with the glimmer of stars. They were faint, drowned out by the city light, but she could see them there. She watched as they sparkled, her eyes trying to planets from stars from satellites as the two of them passed the bottle back a forth. Sipping it from occasion before it was forgotten on the ground between them and conversation prevailed. 

They spoke of their careers. They spoke of home, of family and friends. They talked about their hobbies, their similarities and their differences slowly becoming clear - and not once did her magnetic draw to him waiver. The more they talked, the more she knew, the more it grew. Claire wanted to be near him, to feel him, to know him for more than his mind and his soul but his body too. It was a craving, one that consumed her so fully it was almost debilitating as she pushed up from where she lay on the lounger. 

Reaching down, Claire pushed her heels from her feet with a single hand before her feet met the cold concrete. She stepped around the open bottle of whiskey and took two tip-toeing steps to reach where Freddie sat no more than an arm’s reach away. And he must have been watching her, waiting for her, as she was greeted with the slow embrace of his hands around her waist as she climbed onto the seat with him. 

His fingers wrinkled her dress, causing the flimsy fabric to rise around her thighs as he guided her up into his lap. Claire’s knees rested on each side of a single thigh, the soft fabric of his trousers brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as she seated herself down. She near shuddered as she felt his muscle flex between her legs, the thick quadricep pressing up against the thin fabric of her panties and the apex between her thighs. There she sat, her full lips parted in a breathy part as she reached out to trace her fingers over the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Claire craved to lean in, to steal that breath of air between them but she hesitated as her bright eyes were heavy and gazed over every angle of his face right down to the swell of his lip as he took the lower lobe between his teeth in restraint. 

“Freddie I,” she gasped out gently, “I don’t normally do anything like this…”

Claire wanted that to be clear. She wasn’t some temptress that made it her mission to sleep with her brother’s teammates nor was she someone who let a man steal more than a kiss on the first date. But with what she was feeling, she wanted to chase the highs of being in his company even if that meant breaking the unwritten rules of being the Captain’s baby sister. 

His head shook slowly, a small smile creeping up onto his lips as one of his hands left her waist to reach up. Freddie’s warm palm met her cheek carefully, his thumb stroking over her lips and feeling her every nervous breath.

“You and me both,” he finally said as his thumb dropped to her chin, “this is the exact opposite of what I should be doing if I want to be staying on the roster, but-”

“But?”

“I just can’t shake this feeling,” Freddie hummed, pushing up from the recliner to straighten up just enough that the tips of their nose graze. He didn’t have to say any more than that. She knew exactly what he was speaking to because she was feeling it too. “I would very much like to kiss you, Claire.”

“If you kiss me I might not be able to stop,” Claire cautioned, her gaze shifting down to the golden cross that hung from her neck. 

The Staal family was strong in their faith, and she had yet to truly give herself to any man. With all that she was feeling, her skin already ablaze with just the overwhelming thought of it all, Claire knew the risk that would come from just a single kiss from his lips. She needed him to know what this would mean to her if she left it spiral. She needed to know that he was willing to carry the heavy weight of being her first with him. 

His perfect lips parted in a breath of a curse as his thick fingers dragged down the angles of her neck. Freddie’s touch was featherlight, but it left a burning path in its wake as he reached her collarbone and the dainty necklace that hung from her neck. Two fingers stroked over the chain before taking hold of the small cross that was no bigger than the pad of his thumb. 

“Claire,” her name was almost a groan on his lips as he studied the cross with eyes that seemed to darken in the night, “you’ve never-”

She couldn’t answer, the embarrassment of it all in her throat. She had always thought she would have waited until marriage, but she had never wanted anyone more than she wanted him in that moment and she hadn’t even kissed him yet. Instead, all she could do was shake her head. 

“Fuck,” he cursed again, but it sounded more like a hymn now, “You’re going to get me into so much trouble, you know that?”

His hand splayed out, holding her gently around her throat after dropping the cross to rest just above her cleaved. With that hold, he drew Claire in, his mouth meeting hers in the kiss she had been craving from him all evening. Any suffocating feeling that had lingered after being void of his touch at dinner had been eliminated the moment his lips met hers. Freddie’s kiss breathed life into her unlike any kiss had before, and Claire felt whole. 

It had started out in a chaste drag of his lips over her own, firm and curious, but it ignited a spark that neither of them could ignore. It drew her in further, her lips parting to welcome the intensity of his kiss, and Claire was melting into him. The world around them was lost as Claire gripped his t-shirt in her fists, and with a single hand, Freddie was pulling her in so that she was flush against him. Freddie’s warmth radiated against her, consuming her as she let one leg fall over the edge of the lounger to ground himself. With one leg anchoring him, Claire could feel his hands travelling down over the subtle curves of her body. His palms stroked over the dip of her waist and down further still as he gripped at her hips. Fingers wrinkled her pale dress, inching its skirt up a little higher as he shifted her position on his thigh just right. And with the careful guidance of his hands, Freddie dragged her clothed cunt over the thick expanse of his thigh. 

The friction left Claire gasping against his lips as she kissed him. Her hands released his shirt, dropping the now wrinkled fabric, before reaching to gasp at the strength of his shoulders. With that hold, Claire anchored herself to him, and let her hips roll in his steady guidance. She could feel each flex of his thigh, and each tug of her panties as they caught on the fabric of his trousers. It pushed the fabric back and forth, forcing the structured hem one way or the other leaving it to tease the most sensitive parts of her and expose her delicate skin to the pleasure of his thigh. Each desperate roll of her hips was almost enough to leave her reeling, her legs threatening to tremble as her arousal seeped into his trousers and undoubtedly could be felt against his skin. 

“Freddie,” she mewled against his lips, his kiss dragging down across her jaw and coaxing a feeble moan before he pulled back just enough to look at her, “My room’s on the third floor.”

“Are you sure?” Freddie asked slowly, his large hand raising from her hip carefully and reaching out to stroke over her swollen lips. 

“I’m sure they won’t want us doing it out here on the patio,” when she spoke, her lips dragged against his fingertips - the mere touch of him sent a smile to blossom over her lips. 

“Yeah,” Freddie breathed out, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Standing up slowly, Claire ran her hands down over the skirt of her dress to smooth out each wrinkle before reaching down to collect the bottle. She cradled it in her hold and watched out of the corner of her eye as Freddie stood - towering - and awkwardly shifted his trouser with the hope to hide the stiffness of his cock as it tested the confined of his trousers. In the dark, it wasn’t all that noticeable, but in the light of the hotel room lobby, she was sure someone was bound to notice. 

“Here, take this,” Claire thought quickly as she reached for the gift bag and placed the bottle inside before handing it to him. It wasn’t a big bag, but maybe it would be enough of a distraction. 

Looking up from his half-untucked shirt and the leather belt buckle around his waist Freddie offered her a smile and a quick thanks before the two of them snuck off the patio and into the hotel lobby. It was so late in the night that not even the front desk clerk greeted them, making it a quick and easy walk to the elevator that would take them up. 

Claire stood on one side of the elevator, her thighs pressed firm together as her panties were still askew, and Freddie stood across from her with the gift bag strategically held in front of him and his eyes locked on her. Leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the elevator, Claire watched him in return, her mind racing faster than she could register a single clear thought - and before she could even try to fathom one, the elevator chimed as they reached the third floor. 

Quick strides carried her out into the hallway and only grew quicker as she left her own arousal dripping down the inside of her leg. Her strides stuttered as she came to the door, her fingers fumbling with the key card for a moment before she was pushing her way in through the door. 

Freddie was quick to come in right behind her, the warmth of his body against her back as he dropped the gift bag - and the bottle of whiskey - to the floor with a hollow thud leaving his hands free to take to her body. Hands splayed over the curves of her waist, drawing her back into him so she could feel the stiffness of his cock against her back. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, her head almost feeling dizzy as she felt him lean in just enough to mutter against her ear. 

“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” Freddie hummed, the rush of his words hot against the shell of her ear, “are you sure? Do you want me to be the first to fuck you, Claire?”

Claire could only nod, her lips slightly parted as she took a steady breath, her mind confused fully by how big he felt pressed up against him. Even while wearing her two-inch heels, Freddie towered a foot taller than her and was so big, so strong. He made her feel small, that at any moment he could pick her up and take her as he pleased and yet, he was taking his time with her. His touch was so cautious, so careful and tender. This wasn’t just going to be a quick fuck. She knew it, and with the way he was touching her - and the way they had been acting all night - he knew it too but neither of them could call it what it was. 

“I need you to say it, Claire,” Freddie prompted her again, his long arm reaching down the length of her body to tug up the skirt of her dress. He drew it up by the hand full, revealing every inch of skin along her thigh and bearing her panties to him. She could feel the vibration of his hum against her back, his two thick fingers dragging over the white lace hem that rested inches below her belly button. 

“Yes,” came the ghost of the word, “Yes, I’m sure.”

His two fingers dipped into the thin fabric, his fingertips dragging over her smooth flesh and did not stop until they came to rest over her clit. It seemed to sting with desperation, screaming for the pleasure that would come from the pleasure of his touch. Yet, all she could feel was the subtle accidental graze that came with the angling of her own hips. 

“Freddie,” his name was a gentle whine on her lips, her head turning to glance back at him. 

“Has a man ever touched you here?” he hummed into her hair as his finger pressed into her clit, a gentle pressure that almost left her teetering uneasily in her heels. 

“No,” she gasped simply, her petite body leaning back against his as her eyes shut. 

Freddie’s fingers stroked in slow, agonizing circles as he spoke again, “Have you ever touched yourself here, Flower?”

Her cheeks flushed red hot at the question, and her knees weak as the nickname was assigned to her by his tongue. Claire nodded slowly, her blonde hair becoming a mess between her head and his chest, and she held her breath as he dipped her fingers lower into the crotch of her panties. Blindly he fixed them just right, trapping his touch between the thin lace and the wet warmth of her cunt - then as his fingertips traced the slick entrance of her core, Claire took in a sharp inhale. 

“What about here, Flower?” Freddie breathed into her hair, each word hot as it was spoken. 

“No,” Claire’s lips quivered, “never.”

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he praised her gently, “waiting so patiently for me.” The cockiness in his tone left the corner of her lips curling as she leaned back into his strength. His free arm welcome her, wrapping so effortlessly around her waist to keep her firm to him as she gazed up at him through her thick lashes. “I’m going to take my time with you, Flower. Spoil you on your birthday, would you like that?”

Claire nodded. 

“Good, girl,” Freddie hummed as he slipped his hands from her panties and let the skirt of her sundress fall back down her legs, “lay down on the bed. Leave everything on for me.” 

She took careful strides as she moved for the bed, her legs left feeling weak from the mere absence of him and only found relief when she was crawling up into the comfort of the bed. Settling among the pillows, Claire bent one leg and she reached for the thin strap that fastened her heels around her ankle. 

“Ah, Ah,” Freddie tutted, “leave everything on for me, Flower.” 

Her fingers froze and eased back against the pillow as her eyes fell on him. Freddie still stood by the door, the glow of the hallway light streaming in and illuminating his silhouette in a halo of light. He had watched her crawl up to the bed without moving from his place, admiring her. It was only as she sat frozen by his words that he took casual, long strides, that carried him to the foot of the bed and tugged his t-shirt off his back and up over his head. Claire couldn’t stop herself from letting her eyes wander. Trailing up from the belt of his trousers where the waist of his boxers played peek-a-boo, and up and over the strength of his body. Her gaze didn’t stop until they had settled on his softened features, and how they were framed by what was now a mess of his hair. 

Her bright eyes fixated on the contrast of his darker as Freddie settled himself at the foot of the bed. It shifted under his weight as he crawled up just a bit high so that he knelt just between her feet. All the while holding her gaze, Freddie took hold of her gently by one of her ankles. He guided it up carefully, placing it on the strength of his shoulder, before turning his head just enough to kiss the inside of her ankle. The action, so sweet and tender, left Claire melting back into the pillows - and her arousal only continued to puddle as he kissed his way up. Up along the length of her calf, his hand guiding her leg up and over to rest along the stench of her back leaving the heel of her pump to drag over his flesh. Up around the curve of her knee was his large hand began to push up the skirt of her daisy sundress. Up over the delicate flesh of her inner thigh where his every breath left her core aching in the anticipation of feeling him.  

As he reached the apex of her thigh, she could feel Freddie hesitate, his hot breath flooding over the damp fabric of her panties. His every hot breath only primed her for the feeling of a single, thick finger dipping into her panties. Hooking it around the soaking fabric and drawing it down her legs so that she was rid of them fully and her glistening cunt was left bare for him. 

Claire could hear Freddie as he let out a steady hum, his hands leaving her dress to pool around her waist to explore the flesh that was exposed to him. A single palm rested over her pelvis, his warmth radiating over her as his thumb reached down to stroke slowly over her clit. It unearthed a desperate whine from her lips, one that was choked back into silence as she felt his fingers glide down over her lower lips and stroked around the entrance of her core. 

“Such a beautiful flower,” he spoke into the soft skin of her thigh, “so wet and ready to be fucked - but first, I’m going to make sure you can handle me. Get you nice and ready for me, so we’re going to start with just one finger, alright, Flower?”

“Yes, Freddie, please,” she pleaded with him, her hips wiggling with anticipation but his one hand kept her pinned firmly to the bed. 

“Patience, Flower,” he reminded her gently with another kiss to her thigh, “you’ll have all of me before the night is over.” His words were a promise as he stroked over her slick entrance one last time before easing the tip of his middle finger inside of her. 

Claire’s lips parted in a quiet gasp as she looked down over the curves of her own body to watch as Freddie worked between her legs. He watched looking up at her instead his eyes were focused on her cunt, at how well her core took his finger and left his skin glistening with her desire for him. The friction of his fingers alone was enough to send her head back to the pillows, her heart racing from every agonizing stroke. 

“So good, Flower,” Freddie praised her, “I’m going to use a second finger now.”

The pressure of the second finger left her biting down on her lower lip as her core stretched out to accommodate him. It was a burning pleasure, her legs weak as one remained draped over his shoulder with her heel digging into the muscle of his back. The pleasure sent her hands to the sheets, her hands gripping at the fabric until her knuckles were white - then came his praise and it only sent her head spinning further into her pleasure. 

“That’s it” he hummed, “you’re taking my fingers so well, Flower, and so pretty while you’re doing it too.” He kissed the inside of her thigh again, the pressure of the pleasure building like the raging storm inside her until he withdrew his fingers one final time and left her void before she would reach the peak of her pleasure. “Taking my fingers so well, I think you’re ready for my cock, Flower.” 

Claire's chest was weak with nerves as she pushed up onto her elbows to watch as Freddie eased her leg from his shoulder and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. She watched as he kicked off his shoes - his fingers that were once inside her now in his mouth as he did so - before his hands dropped to his pants where his erection had tented in his pants. There was nothing discrete about it now, and there would have been no hiding it behind a gift bag if they needed to now. She watched as his hands worked his belt free, and pushed his trousers down until he was left in nothing but his boxers. But not even those stayed on as he hooked his thumbs around the waistband and pushed them down to join his pants on the floor. He stood there bare to her, her eyes left to wander. 

From floor to ceiling and back down again, Claire’s lips were left agape at the sight of him. Freddie was big. From his height to his hands to his cock, there was nothing that failed to impress her about his size. Everything about him made her feel small, especially as he crawled back up the length of the bed until he was hovering over her with a single knee between her legs. 

“Let’s get that dress off of you,” Freddie hummed as he hovered over her, his hand coming down to her shoulder to push one of the straps down over her shoulder carefully. The gentle touch has her sitting up just enough for her hands to work on her dress. She couldn’t get it off her body fast enough, the zipper just out of her reach and left to Freddie’s gentle touch before Claire could discard the fabric on the floor and was left in nothing but her heels as she lay out on the bed beneath him. 

Her chest rose and fell in nervous breaths as she felt her eyes skirt over her body as it was now fully exposed to him. Claire held her breath at the touch of his hands as they explored the newly exposed skin, his hands caressing each exposed breast and his thumb teasing each pert nipple with a teasing smile. “Every inch of you is just so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his neck craning as to put a sweet kiss against her shoulder and when he pulled back his expression was soft as he gazed down at her, “Eyes on me, I want to see the look on your face as you take my cock.”

Biting her lip, Claire nodded desperately as Freddie pushed up onto his knees. He settled himself between her thighs, his careful touch spreading her legs just enough for him before they reached down for his cock. Her eyes were fixated on his face, and his slack-jawed expression as he dragged the tip of his cock over her slick cunt. His eyes almost shut at the feeling, his body shuddering with a heavy breath as the head of his cock kissed her entrance. 

The pressure of the mere tip of his cock left Claire wincing. It was much thicker than the breadth of his two fingers, the girth of him stretching her core out with the mere first inch of him that tore through the final piece of her that marked her virginity. “Stay nice and relaxed for me, Flower,” Freddie breathed out, his one hand reaching out to stroke over the swell of her hip, “it’s going to feel tight, might even hurt just a little, but it’s going to feel so good. I promise you.” 

Claire gave off a desperate nod, her breath hitching as she felt him ease in just a little more of him. She could feel the slick of her core on the inside of her thighs, his cock coaxing more from her with each careful plunge. Any discomfort that came from accommodating his cock soon dissolved into pleasure, leaving Claire arching her back to angle her hips, finding just where she liked having them angled and digging her heels into the mattress. 

“That’s it,” Freddie cooed, his hand gliding down the back of her thigh to grasp her behind her knee. He lifted her leg up to rest against his hip, her calf coming to rest along the back of his thigh as he eased himself in so close to his limit. “So close to taking all of me,” he added as he leaned in, kissing his way over the angle of her jaw and to her lips that were so desperate to be kissed. 

Her lips welcomed his with a breathy, open-mouthed kiss as her bright eyes fell shut - and while she couldn’t see him she could feel all of him. The sweet embrace of his lips as they swallowed each of her feeble moans. The flex of his arms as they drew her petite body flush to his. His legs and how they were tangled with her. And finally, his cock as it delved deep and deeper still inside her until she burned with a throbbing pleasure, unlike anything she had ever felt. 

“Freddie,” Claire mumbled desperately against his lips, her arms reaching around his to grip his back. 

“That’s it,” he cooed, drawing back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and to bring a hand up to stroke over her cheek, his own lips parting in a ghost of a moan, “you feel how good it feels to - ah - fuck,” his words were broken by his own groan the waves of her pleasure all so consuming that he could feel it too. 

Together, they were a symphony of heavy breaths and lingering touches. Their kisses were messy and desperate, mixed with soft moans and low, guttural groans that were punctuated by one final trust that flooded her core and left her feeling full - as if the piece of her she didn’t know she was missing had finally found her. 

The feeling left Claire panting as she lay out on the bed, her eyes training on Freddie’s features until he had drawn back to leave her nothing more than the darkened ceiling. She could have sworn she was seeing stars, or even colours, as she was consumed by the euphoria that Freddie had brought her two. Her gaze was almost tired as she felt him moving down the bed and to where his clothes rested on the floor. Head lulling to the side, Claire’s heart thundered in her chest, her stomach weak at the thoughts that were all too consuming now, was he leaving? 

Biting her lip she was as he jumped into his boxer, her eyes burning with the threat of tears as any emotion now was almost too much, and then she said it, her words quick - almost fearful - as she sat up and clutch a nearby pillow to her chest, “please say.”

“Hey,” Freddie sighed, his tone instantly reassuring as he braced himself against the bed so that he was at eye level with her, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to go grab a warm cloth, and help you get cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire nodded, her words a breath, “I’m sorry. Okay.” 

Settling back into the bed, Clare’s hands came up to cover her face as the weight of it all hit her. She wasn’t a virgin anymore - that thought made her smile. She had lost her virginity to her brother’s teammate - that was what made her nervous. If Jordan or any of her brother’s found out, there was no telling how they would react - and her poor father would probably have a stroke if he learned she had done anything out of wedlock. 

The thoughts left her stomach uneasy as Freddie returned to the bedroom with a warm, damp cloth. He ran it carefully over the inside of her legs, before dropping the rag to rest over her knees as she pulled her heel-clad feet into his lap to finally remove them. It was then she spoke, her throat weak from moaning, “Are you scared of my brother?”

Freddie shook his head, his smile returning to his lips, “no, are you?”

A chuckle rocked Claire’s shoulders as she reached her hand up to push her hair from her face, “I’m scared of what he will do to you if he ever finds out.”

“We don’t have to tell him at this happened,” he told her gently, his hand dropping one show to the floor, and then the other before he lay beside her. 

Large hands tugged the blanket around them before he reached out to draw her in close to him. Even now that she had him, all of him, there was nothing like being touched by him. She craved it, thrived under it and now that she had it, she didn’t want to know what it was like to be without it. “But, I can’t pretend nothing happened tonight, Claire. I don’t know what’s happened tonight, but I don’t want it to stop. It’s like-” “Like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were missing?” Claire cut in, earning a gentle nod from him as he leaned in to place a firm kiss on her lips one last time before letting his eyes flutter shut. 

Laying content in his arms, with sleep sure to take them both soon, Claire didn’t know what was to come of them come morning. But what she did know was that she would have to thank the team’s general manager, for she would have never met Freddie if it weren’t for him - and that was the best gift she could have asked for on her birthday. 

[roomsofangel]

CHAPTER SIX

someone, somewhere, somehow .ᐟ

wc 1.4k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

chapter warnings mentions of mental health, san mentions s*icide, san is telling y/n part of his side to their history

this chapter solely surrounds san and y/n!!

you knew it wasn’t a good idea.

everything leading up to this point screamed at you to turn around and hex yourself for even considering this — choi san was not the type you should be messing with right now, but you needed answers.

what did he mean? what was he implying?

something in your bones reassured you that he wouldn’t dare raise a finger on you — you were safe.

though, you had a dagger you stole from seonghwa’s bedroom drawer wrapped and tucked in your boot. better safe than sorry.

seonghwa.

you knew he would be angry with you, envisioning his expressions when you confess your wrongdoing.

but he would understand

he had to. he will.

right?

moving your hair out of your face, you knocked twice — something you and san agreed on to indicate it was you and not someone else, apparently, unsurprisingly — he had a long list of enemies.

the door opened to reveal him, dressed in a black silk button up that had three undone and loosened, his black slim dress pants having the fabric tucked in a bit — your spine shuddered, his eyes half lidded with seduction while his smile grew to show more teeth, “y/n, come in,” voice radiating richness

shaking your head as if it would help erase the thoughts, you walked inside and took in the room, the white walls that had endless oil paintings from different time periods — “beautiful,” you admired before you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, sharply inhaling you turned to face him, chest against chest unaware how truly close you two were, “this visit is strictly for answers, san, not…” your voice weakened when your eyes locked with his

“am i just that alluring?” he teased, “i was taking your jacket off, i thought you were hot because your face was red,” he laughed a bit before gently setting you aside that caused you to stumble a bit, his grip making sure you stayed more in place than you initially would, leading you down the long hallway

sliding your jacket down your tired shoulders, you propped it up on the coat hanger before making any more moves, soaking in all the flashy interior designs san had in his home. it all made sense. the home truly looked as if it belonged to him.

“thirsty?” he asked, breaking the silence, glancing over his shoulder towards you

you respond with a head shake, declining the offer while following him to sit on the loveseat — swallowing your nerves, fingers laced with the strings of your bracelet, “tell me what you were going to before seonghwa kicked you out.”

san’s brow lifted, appearing amused, “how were you so sure i was going to elaborate?”

clearing his throat, he shifted his body to get more comfortable, “your energy recognizes me, doesn’t it?”

off guard, your lips unconsciously parted, unaware that you were only growing inches closer to the man in front of you, “i don’t know what you mean,” hands finding their way to his hardened chest

“if it didn’t, y/n, why are you feeling me up?” his laugh rang through your ears, snapping you out of a drunken stupor and moving away as quick as you fell intoxicated, “you may not remember, but your soul does.”

“enough with the vagueness, san, i came here for more answers.”

this only amused him more it seemed, “so cute, my y/n is seeping through more and more,” his eyes flickered to your lips before back to your doe eyes, “very well, just scoot over,” he clenched his teeth

nodding, you softly apologized and scooted just as told, watching him exhale a deep breath, “do you want to know how we met?”

and again, you nodded.

his face scrunched, eyes flashing through different emotions before he met your gaze, “i can’t give you an exact time period, y/n, but this was your first life, where it all began,” his hands clasped together

“you had these… crazy abilities that made hongjoong drawn to you first,” san made a facial expression to exaggerate the crazy part, “the two of you were inseparable, he introduced you to seonghwa as friends only,” bitterly laughing

“what happened?” you frowned

“believe it or not, i was royalty,” he amused, leaning to the side so he could pull the blanket that hung over the couch, motioning if you wanted to be covered as well, you nodded and the two of you were draped in the soft sheet, nearly forgetting that this wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover with a bedtime story, “we were supposed to marry.”

you looked at him, examining his expressions and all you read was agony, your hands sweated, chest pains running down to your fingertips — looking at him made you feel the pain he possibly felt during the storytelling, “go on,” you quietly encouraged making him softly laugh

“but you loved seonghwa more than you ever did me,” he sighed, “i was the only human in this shitty game of cards, i should’ve known that even if i had the upper hand, he would manage to come in regardless.”

“me and him shared a good fair share of words, some i’m not regretful for, some i am,” he looked at his lap, “but that’s when i met wooyoung, i begged him to help me with you.”

his body tensed, recalling the events leading up to his future demise, “hongjoong found out and it all backfired,” voice cracking, your body immediately went to comfort him and his eyes widened at the action, “i killed myself because i couldn’t handle the pain,” unable to hold in the quiet sobs

“how did you become this?” you asked, holding his head on your chest, hearing the quiet sniffle

“hongjoong saw this as a better punishment — after what i told seonghwa,” he shook his head, nails creating crescent moons on your open palm, “i’ll never admit to this to anyone else, y/n, but,” he shifted his body and cupped your cheeks

your eyes looked into his glossy ones, “i don’t know how to be the person i was back then, all i know is to be the monster hongjoong made me to be,” his voice weakened

“how do i know you’re not trying to make me feel bad for you, san?” you asked him

san stayed quiet, not giving you an answer and instead — you felt the pressure of his lips onto yours, the softness stained with salty tears that had ran down his face, your blood ran cold.

“san…” you whispered against his lips, hands finding their way to rest on his chest, gently pushing him away

you could’ve sworn you watched him go through the five stages of grief — his eyes watching you as if he just processed what he just did, standing on his feet with the blanket falling off of your lap, “y/n, i think you should go.”

“san?” you stood and tried to catch his hand in yours but he retaliated

“go!” his voice echoed off the walls, earning yourself to flinch and step back

and you did.

you made your way down the hall and out the door, allowing yourself to stand outside his front door and stare at the full moon that illuminated the trees.

“what are you doing out here?” an unfamiliar voice spoke, your nose twitching before you turned to face whoever it was coming from the right side of you

the male had what seemed to be freshly dyed red hair, his gaze intensely stuck on you before his expression turned from cold to soft, almost as if he had just finished processing that it was you

“y/n?” he questioned

you nodded in response, wiping the tears with your sleeve that managed to escape

the male in front of you looked at the large home and then back at you, as if he was trying to connect dots before sighing, “i’m wooyoung,” he introduced himself

“let’s get you home to seonghwa, okay?” his hand extended for you to take, and you looked at him for a moment

exhausted, you took his hand and walked with him to the vehicle he had, “weren’t you visiting san?” you questioned

“he can wait, he sees me all the time,” he laughed, not making any form of eye contact or even bothering to look at you, letting you get in his car first before looking behind him to the house, shaking his head and getting in himself

the two of you sat in silence, wooyoung starting the car and all that filled the air was the quiet music he had playing, “don’t worry, y/n,” he spoke

turning to glance at him, head leaning on the window, you watched him stare ahead, index finger tapping on the steering wheel, “i won’t tell seonghwa you were here.”

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taglist (open)

@onedumbho3

[synthetickitsune]

sf9 + drunkenly flirting with them in front of the members

Youngbin ❧ He’s flushed pink, both from the liquor in his system and the way you’re trying to seduce him. The presence of his members does little to help, but perhaps it’s not all that inconvenient. It makes something in him come alive. He knows you. He knows that you’d be mortified in the morning when Inseong would no doubt join you as soon as he woke up to show you the video he took of you flirting with your boyfriend, voice slurred and leaning into his side heavily. And he knows you’d then start apologizing and barely look him in the eye thinking he was embarrassed by your behavior. That’s the thing though. The members are here and he is their leader, and while not one to take advantage of the role he was given, this is one situation where he will make an exception. Perhaps that’s why his friend only chuckles before turning his screen towards Youngbin to show him that not only he stopped recording, he also deleted the file. There’s soft laughter to be heard around the room, fond as much as it is teasing. They can tease him all they want, but you will be protected. He turns back to you, still cooing about how handsome he is. He leans closer, throwing a compliment right back at you. The stars in your eyes as you realize your flirting is working is worth every not-so-quiet whipped that he hears and no doubt will hear in the days to come.

Inseong ❧ He’s used to it, he’s fine with it. He’s long since accepted and grew comfortable with occasionally making himself the fool for the entertainment of others. Besides, his priority is always you, and if you want to whisper into his ear and blush and giggle as if you were confessing the dirtiest wishes, then so be it. He humors you, gasping and averting his eyes in mock shyness and embarrassment. The others would have told you to get a room a long time ago if they didn’t know better. It’s not dirty fantasies you’re so secretly murmuring into Inseong’s ear. I think my Spotify is broken. You’re not listed in the hottest singles. That one makes him chuckle for real, and he considers acting offended because hey, he really is on spotify and he is not in the hottest singles. However, he knows how easily your mood can flip in your intoxicated state and he doesn’t want to cause you distress. It’s getting late anyway. And so instead he informs you, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips, that it’s because he’s not single. Before the confusion on your face can turn into hurt, he kisses you slowly, sharing the catch - you’re the reason he’s not single, and do you maybe want to go home with him? You agree and get up before he can assure you he only cares about your safety. As he helps you into your coat, the boys impatiently demand to know which terrible horrible pick up line has done it today. He grumbles his response, whining that they need to work hard this year so you can’t use it ever again.

Jaeyoon ❧ He wants to pay his undivided attention to making sure you’re alright, but it’s near impossible with the way you keep not-so-subtly checking him out. He’s told you to be careful with how much you drink and apparently he should’ve also told Zuho. Maybe then he could avoid this mess. Jaeyoon makes a mental note to never let you talk and wine with the other man again. What’s worse is that now everyone is staring at both of you, in various states of intoxication and loudness, as you practically drape yourself over Jaeyoon and start cooing at him about how handsome he is. He feels his cheeks heat up while you’re apparently smitten with his smile. At least with your arms around his neck and his hands on your waist he can steady you and make sure you’re not bumping into every single piece of furniture. It feels good to have your attention solely on him, to know that even when your mind is altered he’s the only one you want. It makes him soft, much softer than he cares to admit. What’s less endearing is that you refuse to leave his side - ‘i’m not taking any chances, you’re too hot’ - and so you need to shout to converse with the others. All the noise gets too much, and soon whoever wants to talk to you or Jaeyoon needs to come closer. You cling to him more, squeezing yourself against him. His chest puffs out in pride. Everyone must’ve underestimated your attraction to him - whoever teases either of you gets an earful about why Jaeyoon apparently is the only man ever, and he couldn’t love you more.

Dawon ❧ It’s getting worse by the second. You’re flirting - he should have known your tolerance wouldn’t be the same as his - and your hand is on his thigh and the members are looking and cheering for him and he’s lost. He really should’ve tried drinking with you before allowing you to meet the members under these circumstances. Now he doesn’t know what to do and it’s not a good feeling. He hasn’t drunk that much but maybe he could feign feeling sick? Only as soon as he starts getting up you’re pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. You’re pouting, the cute pout you always do when you want something and that makes him cave every time. He hears some chuckles about how cute you are and - “Yeah, that’s my cute baby” he coos at you, sitting right back down. Your eyes sparkle as he stretches his arm on the back of the couch behind you and you lean into him almost immediately. As if he could leave you here with these animals. Who knows what embarrassing stories they’d tell you, he does a pretty good job of ruining his idol image in front of you himself, thank you very much. Or worse yet, maybe they’d steal your attention away. He wouldn’t blame you, you’re intoxicated and his members are handsome. Yet when he does have to leave to use the bathroom, he returns to you pouting once more. Taeyang obviously wants to talk to you but you look like you’re about to kick his ass for trying. Apparently Sanghyuk doesn’t have to worry at all.

Zuho ❧ He doesn’t mean to be hurting your feelings, really not. But you’re adorable and he’s shy. He’s surrounded by people most dear to him and everyone is having the time of their life so forgive him if he’s feeling just a little out of his mind. You cross your arms over your chest as he laughs at yet another of your attempts at seducing him. You’re doing such a good job and you don’t even know it. He leans into your personal space, the smile still on his lips and it grows bigger as you lower your gaze. From the corner of his eye he can see Sanghyuk dramatically reaching for the bowl of popcorn. He cups your cheek as he reminds you that you’re already together and there’s no need for that - that there hasn’t been a time when he didn’t want you to be his. His mind reels when in the next second you smirk and poke his cheek, telling him that you know that but you want him right now in a voice low enough for the onlookers to whine about not having caught that. Not to mention that their curiosity only grows seeing Zuho’s wide eyes and shocked expression. He did not expect that. Lowkey panicking, he scans the faces of his members if they indeed are oblivious to the words that left your mouth. It seems so, just like it seems you won’t be patient for much longer. Maybe it’s best to end the night here.

Rowoon ❧ Your shyness around him now is a faint blush, maybe a second of your gaze being averted from under the scrutiny of his eyes. Finally you’ve reached a stage in your relationship where you’re comfortable with each other. So perhaps he shouldn’t feel warmth spread through his chest as the tips of your ears turn red and your giggles carry that sweetness of genuine bashfulness. And yet you still try your best to charm him. Quiet flirtatious whispers meet his ears and he leans closer to you with each of them. The noise in the background is insignificant and the eight pairs of eyes watching you too. It’s been so long since he’s seen you like this, since he’s thought back to when you started dating. His chest is tight and eyes soft, and really it’s almost exactly like back then- He’s about to start leaning in when a hand falls on his shoulder, startling him. Both of you jump in surprise, creating some distance between you like two teenagers caught doing something improper. Here goes the teasing, and the blush is disappearing from your cheeks as you start bickering with his friends. Yet he remains smitten, eyes insistent on watching you. You’ve put a spell on him. And then you turn, your eyes meet. Ah, there’s the blush spreading again… You smile at him and he’s gone.

Yoo Taeyang ❧ You push and he pushes right back. Having cornered you away from the prying eyes, Taeyang feels more at ease. You’re cute with your cheeks flushed red and eyes slightly out of focus as you flirt with him. Call him selfish, but this isn’t a sight meant for the eyes of anyone but him. Besides with a wall behind your back and to your side, plus him in front of you and his arm around your waist, you can sway all you want but you’re safe. No falling, no tripping over your own feet. He keeps a glass of water nearby and sometimes he makes you work for his attention, for his own flirty responses, and makes you drink water before giving you what you want. Call him antisocial, but he sees the guys every day and you’re his person. He needs to take care of you first. And since he’s not going to get away from this situation with a new bunch of things Dawon will tease him for no matter what he does, he can at least make sure you won’t suffer the same fate. He sees the moment the alcohol begins catching up with you and you respond more and more slowly. If you realize that now he’s just coaxing you to stay awake until you get to the car, without any implications of behavior improper for a public space, you don’t respond with more than a loving smile. And if he notices that you cling to him, yet seem more wary of his members as you say your goodbyes and it gets his heart racing in his chest, well, that’s only for him to know.

Hwiyoung ❧ He can feel all eight pairs of eyes on the two of you. Worse yet, he can hear the guys teasing and cooing, and he knows there’s a flush to his face and neck that has nothing to do with the two shots and half a bottle of beer that he’s been nursing the whole evening. He moves in his spot so that at least he can cover you with his body. A purely gentlemanly gesture meant to protect you from their curious eyes, and his selfish desire to guard you and keep you all to himself in this vulnerable state. What Youngkyun isn’t expecting is for you to grab his collar and pull him close as you walk backwards until you’re against the wall and he knows he’s red red. The wolf whistles in the background do nothing to help and he could almost cry with relief when Rowoon tells them to calm down even as he’s laughing himself. And when your hands slide down his chest to his waist, Youngkyun’s a goner. His brain shuts down. The way you’re looking at him should be forbidden outside of your bedroom. He really doesn’t know what to do. A breathy chuckle spills from his lips, a reflex to hide his embarrassment. It saves his life, though. Your face breaks out in a bright smile at the sound and suddenly you’re hugging him tight. He’s confused, but honestly you’re finally acting like yourself and not like any little touch will make you drag him to the bedroom and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Chani ❧ He realizes that he made a mistake the moment the words leave his mouth. He groans, quickly picking up another breadstick and shoving it in your mouth. You glare at him, chewing and trying to pout at the same time. Apparently the line you prepared and didn’t get a chance to say was a good one. One ice cold look of his is enough to shut up the others and their whines of wanting to hear what you had to say. You wildly gesture towards them, expressing your support, only getting Chani’s eye roll in response. It’s bad enough to be the youngest and be in a relationship, but this is a nightmare. Maybe you’ll sober up if he keeps feeding you though. He realizes that you’ve been quiet since that last snack and so he turns to you. The sight has him sighing. You look so dejected he feels a little bad. And so he leans closer to you, motioning for you to whisper to him what you had to say before. You perk up and do. To be fair, it’s the corniest line he’s ever heard. At the same time, you look so proud of yourself he allows himself a little smile and a quick peck to your cheek. He can blame it on the alcohol later. Or sooner, since his older brothers begin demanding kisses too. But it seems your intoxicated self is not only much cheesier than your sober self, you’re also more protective. He doesn’t protest when you all but wrap yourself around him. Maybe he’ll blame that on the booze too.

[n3kk1tty]

Beasts of Santa Carla

This story includes a lot of original characters. Photos of characters and favorite scenes will be drawn. You can find their photos on the masters list along with the prologue and past chapters.

( Master List )

Original Characters: Veve, Volk

(Beasts of Santa Carla is a AU of the Lost Boys. It involves adult themes, poly relationships, and is definitely not made for the underaged. If you don't like poly content, queer representation, shipping of the boys together or heavy sexual themes and violence. This story is not meant for you and that's okay. This story is made solely for my own enjoyment and anyone else who's along for the ride. )

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 6

David took a long drag from his cigarette as he stared at Micheal in the movie store. While the chaotic three were on their date the bottle blonde figured he'd spend some quality time trying to break through to Micheal. David was charismatic and charming but no matter how much he was trying he just wasn't breaking through to Micheal as the brunette shoved his hand off once more. “ Knock it off David. Isn't me being in this store with you enough. “ Micheal batted away the hand that ghosted along his back.

The smile dropped from David's mouth for a second as he positioned himself closer. “ What's got you so upset, Micheal. Not liking our new addition? “ The man rolled his eyes as he looked over vhs tapes in annoyance. “ You know your problem David. You don't ask before you do things. Seems to be your favorite thing to do, deciding what everyone else should do. “ David's tongue clicks in annoyance at the comment, a low hiss under his breath. “ And What would you like, pretty boy. Hmm? I'm waiting, if you're gonna tip toe around it just spit it out. “ Micheal tugged at the blondes collar pulling him close as he glared down, hunger, desire, and anger flashing in his eyes as they glimmered behind his shades.

“ You know damn well I don't wanna kill to live. You know you didn't warn me what would happen when I drank that bottle. Now you come marching in demanding we go on dates with this new girl all just because you to made a fucking bet like my heart and feelings don't mean shit in the matter. “ Micheal hissed when David's gloved hands traced his arm gently. “ I can't say I regret you drinking that blood. I can't. I don't wanna spend my life watching time take you away from me and the boys. But I'm trying to accommodate your wants in the situation. That girl can make it to where you never have to drink a drop of human blood in your life and you still get to walk in the sun like you want. I saw the way you looked at her and I know the way you were thinking about her scent. I can't turn back time but I wouldn't want to anyway. I'm content with my choices so far, are you?.“

Micheal turned away from David hiding his eyes from the man as he attempted to not think of your face smiling at him. The way your scent lit something inside of him and your voice traced along in his heart. You were as intoxicating as the rest of them were but Micheal was pissed you were only in his life because you were playing a game with David. You and David didn't care about how he felt and he hated it because his heart craved you both but you were hurting him. “ Micheal, you're only hurting yourself and everyone else by pushing us away. You and Star. The pack can protect you. You two belong to the coven and we are where you belong. You are one of us. At least try getting to know her. If you hate her and me that's fine we have forever to talk in circles about it but your sickness will only get worse . “

Micheal shoved David off of him as he hugged his leather coat to his body, eyes flaring with rage. “ Piss off David. Haven't you done enough damage already. It's up to me how to deal with what you've done to me and how you continue to treat me. I'm gonna go get a burger don't fucking follow me. “ The boy stormed off as David stood there in Maxes' store holding his hand to where Michael shoved him off. This is how it had been after David tricked Micheal into drinking the bottle. Before they were spending time together, racing, making out under the boardwalk. Now all they and everyone did was fight and David had no one to blame but himself. He was only supposed to get Micheal into the coven but instead along the way his heart got him in trouble and he did something impulsive ruining it all.

The blonde huffed, grabbing his movies as he went to the counter. Max stared back at the boy as he refused to make eye contact. “ Another member David? While trouble is brewing in your coven. Can't say I approve, my boy. “ The blonde grated his teeth leaning his body weight against the counter. “ Do you really have to scold me after you just watched me get into a fight. “ The older man hummed in response. “ Only when you deserve it. I did tell you to take things slow a couple of times over the years. Courting takes time and patience which you've never much had David. “ The blondes hand tightened as claws digged into his palm. “ Your the one who told me to turn him and the kid. “

“ Yes I believe I did but I don't think I remember telling you to rush into it or fall in love again. Twice. “ Max grabbed a bag putting the movies in as he checked them out not bothering to charge his vampiric offspring. “ How did you know I fell in love twice. I'm not in love twice. Me and her are just in a binding vow right now till I get what I want…“ The man raised an eyebrow smiling at him. “ David. We've known eachother for a long time. I've seen you grow and become your own man through the ages. I was there when you fell in love with Dwayne. I was there when you fell in love with Marko and was trying to explain it to Dwayne. I was there when you three wanted to add Paul and you fell in love with him. I even allowed you to turn Laddie and Star because you took pity on their stories and wanted to provide them a better go at life than dying out on the streets from hunger or Star's illness. My boy, I know you better than any of your partners. “

David looked down his cheeks glowing as it felt like his dad was scolding him and giving him a cheesy life lesson. “ I'm just saying that your heart is big David and that's not a bad thing but with one partner; you're bound to get into lovers' quarrels all the time. You have multiple though which means you can have a worse problem brewing then just lovers' spats and right now your biggest problem is the pair refusing to turn completely. Just make sure you're slowing down to a pace that you can keep everything under control on your own. “ The blonde rolled his eyes but knew the older vampire was right as always. He may have been a vampire with all of time at his fingertips but he was going to fast to keep up with everything hitting him at once and he knew it.

“ Yeah well once I get that girl to be ours they will have free meals at the ready all the time and they can get over this being mad thing and we can go back to a sense of calm. “ The older man shook his head at this. “ A demon girl is more of a threat to you than the others. I can't say I approve of your plan or your want to court her. But I know I can't stop you if I do, you'll just go behind my back anyway. Just make sure your plans or problems don't get in the way of my goal. Remember I am your sire and I will not tolerate my courtship going wrong because you can't be responsible.” David gritted his teeth yanking the bag of tapes away before storming off. “ Understood. “ Sometimes it felt like since the Emerson's hit town Max was to busy with his love life then the vampires he sired.

David used to respect him for advice and all the things he knew but after what he discovered recently his sire suddenly wasn't as great as he thought he was. Why didn't Max tell them about Day walkers? Why hadn't he even bothered to bring up vampires had a whole society and culture. They had been alive this long thinking they knew everything and now David couldn't even walk around Santa Carla without knowing that all the underworlders just thought the vampires were a joke. Feral Vampires who didn't even know the basics of their own society or participate in Santa Carla's underworld, that's what everyone thought.

It pissed David off but he knew if he brought it up to Max making accusations then it wouldn't go over smoothly. He remembers years back when they got kicked from Chateau Vermillion and Max nearly hung Paul out in the sunlight for his behavior. The boys were told by Max to strictly stick to their turf and not cause problems. Don't start anything with the other underworlders, stay away from underworld businesses if you can't behave, and the biggest rule was to not leave Santa Carla without Max or his permission. David wasn't gonna snitch on the fact Paul and Marko broke two of those rules when they went on their date. David thought they were gonna stay in town not leave where they did. If Max did pay attention and find out the blonde was already prepared to throw (Y/n) under the bus as she did somewhat kidnap them before he could stop her.

David sat on his motorcycle taking puffs of his cigarette in annoyance. That woman was stirring up his heart and his life. She was opening his eyes to a whole world of possibilities but he was worried she was gonna lead him into trouble. He couldn't stay away from her even when she tried pushing him away. Her scent was heavenly, her blood made him feel stronger and more energized and it was addictive, her face and smile danced in his memories even when he wasn't trying to think of her. Dwayne strolled next to the blonde Laddie in tow as he left Star and Micheal to have alone time quietly nodding to the two in a silent but respectful gesture.

“ What's got you upset David? Did Max say something that made you upset. “ The blonde blinked a bit in shock before shaking his head. “ How did you know that? Were you snooping? “ Dwayne laughed in response. “ My darkest love. We have been dating for decades now. I know the specific faces you make and what they mean. “ David's pale face flushed slightly as he chuckled. “ I guess you can really see through me. He just told me not to fuck up his plans and to slow down. Guess I didn't realize how much the comment pissed me off. “ The tan vampire patted his lover's back affectionately trying to soothe his troubles.

“ Sometimes you need to slow down and enjoy the moment. Not everything has to be solved today, some things can wait for tomorrow.” The two vampires looked over at the moon hanging high above the ocean reflecting its beams off the waves. “ I know you're stressed. You thought that their turning would go as smoothly as Paul's did. Not everyone's as relaxed as him, my love. Micheal has a lot more to lose then me and you ever did when we only had each other.” David looks back at Dwayne blue eyes searching through brown ones to find an easy answer to all his problems. “ You need to meet Star and Micheal halfway or sometimes you may have to give them a little more. That hybrid girl is a solution to their problems but you can't force them to choose. You just have to slow down and breathe. “

David relaxed back into Dwayne's soothing back rubs as he took one last puff from his cigarette looking down at Laddie who stared back at him from his spot doodling in the sand. “ Maybe you're right. Hey little man, what have you been learning all day? Wanna show me any of those cool fighting moves you know. Why don't we head down to the beach and you can show your big brother David what you got. “ The little boy's smile grew wide as he raced Dwayne and David down to the beach area excited to play fight with David as the blonde usually wasn't in the mood for it. The three played on the beach together before eventually Star and Micheal showed up at the bikes. The pair arrived just in time to see David getting knocked to the ground by a little vampire as the kid excitedly told David how he's been practicing his takedowns and that when he gets good enough the fight club will allow him to start taking on opponents.

David sat on the sand, his coat in Dwayne's hands as he ruffled the boy's hair. “ Opponents? Who are you gonna be fighting short stack? Your fellow elementary kids.” Laddie pouted as he swatted at the blonde's hands. “ No! Big sis (Y/n) and her friend Volk said they would find me a hog to fight and if I beat it they will cook me a BBQ. “ David and Dwayne looked in confusion at each other at this mention of this Volk fellow. “ Who's Volk, Laddie?” Dwayne questions raising an eyebrow. The little boy pauses before flashing a smile. “ He's big sisters friend. Sometimes he hangs out with us when you are all asleep and he fights with her. He’s a really cool werewolf dude. Today when we were shopping, Volk ate lunch with us and he gave me this hat.”

David's face furrowed as he didn't like the sound of (Y/n) being so buddy buddy with another man that wasn't in the pack. “ This Volk guy. How close is he to (Y/n) does he like her?” Laddie gets up off the blonde dusting himself before thinking for a moment. “ Nah I don't think they like each other like you and Dwayne do. Volk calls big sis a pain in his ass and they play fight alot. But he's cool, he even gives us rides in his truck and he let's me beat him up. “David huffed as he got up, a sense of annoyance washed over him again. He knew he felt jealous at others getting to see sides of (Y/n) that she never showed him before. He walked to his bike with the kid in tow. Maybe the three would get back with time for him to interrogate her about her little friend and this fight club mystery.

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Paul was currently having the worst time of his life trying to coral two drunkards in a bathroom to get them cleaned up. When the group had gotten home from the bar Marko had thrown up all over not only himself but you and Paul as well. Paul was just happy it didn't get on your fancy neck collar as he didn't want to mess with it even in the slightest but getting you naked to shower wasn't the hard part. The hard part was keeping you and Marko in the shower, which is impossible when one is a flirty drunk and the other is a happy one. After getting everyone's clothes off and a decent pair to change into afterwards Paul had come in to you two on the floor of the bath, water and soap everywhere and two naked drunks clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. While sloppy kisses and giggles were exchanged with pleads for Paul to love them.

The tall vampire already felt bad about having to undress you when you were to drunk to consent but now he felt worse as he had to keep himself from falling to the temptations of your pheromones and pleads as you continuously seduced a belligerent Marko who was happy to indulge in your needs. The two people he was attracted to naked and bare sobbing wet with soap and water begging for him to just touch them. Paul felt like a goddamn Buddhist monk fighting the temptations of flesh and sin. He wasn't going to give in though that just wasn't his style but also he felt a sense of duty to protect you after what he had learned earlier in the night about your past. 

It wasn't a secret though either that succubi were often taken advantage of when they were vulnerable but Paul didn't want to be that kind of person and plus he knew how much it would hurt you if he had given in. “ Come on sweet hearts you two are gonna bust your ass if you keep trying to have sex like this. “ Towels and clothes in hand he pried you two apart drying and dressing you the best he could as he pushed you off of him taking care of Marko first. “ Please Pauly just a little bit won't hurt. “ You pressed your body into his bare back as you nipped at his shoulder purring into his ear giggling and hiccuping away absant mindedly. “ (Y/n) baby. You're too drunk to give me the go ahead. I'm not gonna hurt you like that. “ Paul mumbled to you as he placed a kiss to the side of your head, somewhat satisfying your urges while also respecting your space. 

You whined a bit in response but snuggled close to his scent, still too drunk to stand or run away as Paul gently dressed you in one of his big band shirts and attempted to get a pair of clean boxers on you but that was a miserable attempt. As soon as he plopped you and Marko down in a makeshift nest we're the boys sleep, so you wouldn't accidently flash Laddie with your aggressive passes at Marko, the curly haired vampire had already wiggled them off of you as you two went at it again. It wasn't like you were doing it very well either or really cognitive of what was going on, you too were mostly just aggressively cuddling and making out with a mix of humping and grinding. “ Succubi pheromones are a hell of a drug. Jesus baby girl you're gonna get everyone horny at this rate. “

You giggled up to Paul as Marko hid under your shirt nipping and kissing at you. “ Mmmm your cute Pauly. “ The man smiled as he let you place your face in his palm, butterflying kisses on his wrist. You were such a playful horny drunk it was so cute to him but he was being truthful about your pheromones being a problem. He currently had sacrificed a bud of his weed and a rag to place to his nose to keep him from losing control. He could feel himself getting riled up but he restrained himself as he opted for just patting your back and occasionally kissing you and Marko so you wouldn't whine so much. Paul was worried when the rest came back he may have to fight to keep them out. He knew if Dwayne lost control it would be over and he was mostly worried about your neck being accidentally bit, he knew that if that collar came off all hell would break loose and he didn't know who to call for help.

Paul wanted you to be safe and he wanted to get you home but he couldn't leave you to head to the boardwalk to at least try calling your number and seeing if any of the other girls would pick up. “ You two are the goofiest drunks in the whole world. All this for a guitar for me. I'm the luckiest vampire alive. “ Paul mumbled as he held the guitar in his arms, strumming it some as it made the most amazing sounds. He played a little gentler toon on its cords and as he did stars and gold sparkles swirled around it. “ Woah magic guitar. “ Marko said reaching up and attempting to grab at the star dust. “ Ooh Stars. So pretty. “ You say dazed eyes sparkling as your tail flicks at the mirage.

Paul smiles as his music catches the drunk's attention as they settle their horny advancements instead opting to cuddle to Paul's side staring as he plays magical notes. “ Maybe my fancy new magical guitar can help me get my loves to sleep for the night. Huh. I wonder if a lullaby would do that.” Paul trys his best to play a low and slow song on the demonic strings. Gold stars flying around as the sound luls Marko and (Y/n) to sleep, snuggled into Paul's sides as he works his magic on the guitar they fought so hard to win him. Maybe his two dates getting black out drunk to win it was worth it. I guess a genuine demonic guitar hand crafted by Lucifer himself really was magical.

“ Paul, are you and Marko back. Where's (Y/n) I can smell her all over the cave?” The blonde stops his playing as you and Marko tiredly whine as Paul pulls himself from the spot between you both. David and the rest were back for the night and you and Marko were almost asleep. Paul quickly rushed out from the small opening leading to the bedroom trying to block the others from going in as your pheromones were still heavily lingering in the small space leaking out. “ What are you doing? Where are they. “ Says Dwayne as he's already standing at the opening hunting down your scent as lust glazes his eyes. Paul puts himself between the entrance and the group. “ Marko and (Y/n) are piss drunk. They are cuddling together about to sleep there buzz off. “

David tries to push past but Paul vamps out letting out a low threatening growl as he puts a hand on the platinum blonde's chest. This shocks David as Paul was never the type to buck up to him or cause conflict at all. “ What are you doing Paul. I'm your leader, why are you stopping us from seeing them.” David's eyes glow as a threatening rumble comes from his chest but Paul still stands firm. “ Because I know you're not going in there to control yourself David. It's for (Y/n) safety. She's put her faith in me to take her on a date and enough faith to take care of her while she's vulnerable. “ Dwayne shakes his head covering his nose as the words bring him back to his senses a bit.

“ David. You're not thinking straight. “ Dwayne says going to cover his lover's nose as well but is met with a growl. Lust is flooding David's brains and taking him over like a beastly nature, making all his reason and logic go out the window. It was hard for the pack to contain themselves on the regular around (Y/n) but now that her pheromones are so thick and on full display leaking from the small room, one step in there and it would be over. The only reason Marko hadn't bitten her neck yet was he was too drunk and you're story early subconsciously stopped him from wanting to harm you like that, meanwhile poor Paul had been keeping a thing of weed flooding his senses before he got fully hit with it. He knew David and Dwayne had enough strength to easily get her neck protector off if they wanted to and Paul could tell the chaos that would ensue especially with your troubled past, he was terrified all the progress they had made would be burned down in one frenzied decision and you'd never smile at him again.

The pheromones had just begun to dissipate from the room but if you had waken up again you may start uncontrollably flooding the room once more. Dwayne holds David back as he buries his face in his elbow trying not to get out of control again but before he can stop it Micheal is dashing towards the entrance in a frenzy. Star is standing at the entrance of the cave screaming towards them in a panic as the man scrambles to get to you like a beast in heat. Paul in a split second throws Michael across the room fully vamped out as everyone freezes in shock. It was serious business when the laid back easy going person of the group lost their shit and Paul was standing on business. “ WE WILL NOT ACT LIKE MONSTERS AND HURT WHO WE WANT TO LOVE. “ Paul screamed echoing through the cave, his voice loud, firm, and strict.

The vampires stopped covering their noises from your scent as this display of rage had shocked them all back to sanity. Paul never acted like this to them never. He only ever got mad when strangers tried hurting the coven members but that rarely happened so rare that Star, Micheal, and Laddie had never seen him like this. “ (Y/n) Has gone through something none of us will ever understand and the fact she's even giving us a chance to try and love her is a big step in her journey. I'm not loosing her because you guys can't control yourselves when she's vulnerable and needs us most, now get the fuck out or stay the fuck away. Or I'll make you. “ Paul stops catching his breath as no one cares to speak, his eyes glowing as light hits his claws. Star quietly collects Micheal as they go to the entrance of the cave to watch the waves, she knew Paul was right, if even David was having a hard time controlling himself then there was no hope for the fledgling pair.

Star somewhat respected Paul for his courage to stand his ground for you in your time of need. She always knew he was the kindest and had a heart of gold even if the vampirism and eating people made it seem like it wasn't there. David on the other hand stood frozen in his place as he sat in his wheelchair in a huff. Dwayne followed behind him to sit at the fountain. “ Spill it Paul. You wouldn't lash out like that unless you were standing for your morals. She told you something. Something serious. “ David held his hands to his face, digging his claws in slightly as a silence filled the room. “ We can read your mind Paul, we can see you playing a memory in your head and our girl doesn't look too happy. “ Dwayne sat glaring at the floor as he held a rag to his face, not daring to turn away.

“ Did you know she has spent nearly 100 plus years just running away. Someone has been chasing her relentlessly since he tried forcibly marking her years ago. Just like you originally planned to do, David. What I was gonna do.” Paul's claws dig into his fists as he can't look at the pair or himself. The original plan was to kidnap her and mark her just because she smelled so addictive. Paul felt like a monster the minute he learned of what happened to her though as the guilt ate at him nonstop through the night. The thought that he and his loved ones were going to do the same selfish thing, what happened to his morals and humanity he thought. “ We can't do that to her. We do that and we will break her to nothing and we will never get her back. I don't know about you but I can't stand the thought of her never smiling again.”

Paul goes to turn away, disgusted with himself at how far he's let his morals go before David speaks up. “ Did she take his eye out.” Paul stops frozen. “ How-.” Davids voice is loud and threatening as he repeats back louder body shaking as his claws dig into his face. “ DID SHE TAKE HIS EYE OUT. “ Paul jumps back scared as his tone quiets down. “ She did. She said it was the only reason she escaped that night. “ David throws his wheelchair at the wall at this point Dwayne jumps up to stop him but freezes as he looks at David's eyes. They were filled with pain as a tear ran down his eye and he looked away growling. “ We're not doing that plan. Not anymore. Not ever. This mark on my wrist is proof I’d never lay a hand on her like that. I made a deal for her heart and I plan to win fair and square. “

David knew now that night in House Vermillion when you were in that frenzied state from his mind control that you were reliving the night you were attacked. He had brought that back to your brain by force and that was the screaming he had heard, 100 years of pain and torment and he almost planned to do the same exact thing your attacker did. It made him sick to his stomach and pissed as all could be. Dwayne grabbed Paul's shoulder pulling him in for a hug. “ We're going to keep her safe. All of us. “ Paul leaned into his lovers scent enjoying the comfort. “ Did you give them medicine and water.” David says as he turns towards the door. “ No, I couldn't keep them both occupied by myself. “ At this David leaves the cave to his bike pushing past Star and Micheal who are eavesdropping as he mumbles he needs to blow off steam.

Dwayne pulls Paul with him to go help with getting the drunks back to bed as the commotion startled them awake. When they get into the part of the cave they find the makeshift nest Paul made in a hurry and a scared Laddie who's being sung to by a drunk ( Y/n). “ Paul help me make this bigger and better. We can all sleep around her tonight to keep her safe. “ Paul freezes before looking at his lover in confused shock. “ What about her pheromones? “ Dwayne tosses a tub of Vicks at him as he has some already under his nose. “ Wore this in the brothel so I wouldn't go nuts. Works like a charm. “ Paul runs some under his nose. It was strong and uncomfortable but Dwayne was right. It was working like a charm. Though it's hard to smell pheromones and be horny when your sinuses are being assaulted.

“How did you find this out. “ Dwayne turned Marko over slabbing some under the blonde's nose receiving a hiss from him before he scooted over as (Y/n) plopped her body on top of him giggling. Laddie curled next to them trying to get away before Dwayne caught him slathering vics under his nose as well. “ The brothel guys showed me before putting some on my nose when we wore the bite mask on. The incubus were actually really nice to explain. “ You perk up at the mention tail flicking absently chatting to the void. “ I like the people at the Chateau so nice. Veve is gonna be mad I slept in someone else's bed. Mmm she only lets Volk be my other bed buddy. I miss Volk. Where is he?” Dwayne freezes and Paul's mood sours before the pair are selfishly dragging your drunk form between them to cuddle you. “ How could you be thinking about that wolf when I'm right here gorgeous hmm.”

Paul hums, placing a kiss to your cheek as he pouts, Dwayne caresses your hand as he looks into your eyes. “ We will sleep next to you tonight princess. Please don't hurt us by talking about other men. “ You stare back dazed, barely able to form a clear thought through the alcohol as your eyes flutter open and closed. You can't stay awake any longer as you lean into their bodies smiling and mumbling more nonsense. You drifted quickly to sleep as the pair cradled you and Marko soon David even found his way into the cozy nest with the medicine and water he bought. He somewhat bumped Dwayne and Laddie out of the spot to take over cuddling you which his lover didn't mind but David was surprised how quickly you latched onto him mumbling in your sleep as you dreamed.

When David was sure everyone was asleep he held you close whispering apologizes to you about how he'd do better in the future. He swore he'd do this courting thing right for your sake and everyones. David also made a promise that when the day came and your abuser returned that he and the boys would make him feel all the pain you had to endure by yourself. He wished to share his story with you and learn about yours as well, even though it felt like his heart already knew you he wanted to make room in his life just for you. The boys slept with you in the nest that night hoping that when they awoke you would still be there and willing to see them again. Little did they know the nightmare you were enduring alone.

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Blood was everywhere. It's foul stench poaching your nose with the familiar scent of rot and iron. You were running or trying to at least claws grasping for the ground as you tried desperately to get away but finding nothing but blood. The white silk dress draping around your body stained with blood organs floating to the top of the waters as you struggled against the strangling heavy fabric. You knew what was coming you always did but you fought violently against fabric, flesh, and blood in futility. The puddles began to shake violently as skulls began to float to the top, bones and skeletal remains coming into view as you could identify every last one.  James, Patrick, Masia, Maverick, friends, even acquaintances; all innocent people you got killed just by knowing you. You started to cry as you repeated each name of the body you saw as you ran past the corpses away from the beast you could hear crushing them behind you. It was only a matter of time before you saw the six mortal loves you hated to see Every Time in your nightmare. These were the six souls that you felt the most guilty about. 

 Misha, you say running past your Russian lover. The day he found you in the snow bringing your battered form into his cabin gently wrapping layers of blankets on your form. You wished he never brought you home and fell in love with you. You can't even look at his crushed in skull when you run past crying violently at the mere sight. Stella, you say stumbling past her body shaking as her maps of the stars lay around her cold lifeless rotting corpse. You had met her in Greece and loved her dearly till she was ripped from you. She was only human after all is all you could hear from your abuser when the light left her eyes. You knew you had to keep running though even if it hurt to abandon her. Marzio, your poor poor goofy artist. All he wanted to do was paint Italy's sunsets by the waters, you wish he never stopped you that day to ask to paint you. He must have painted and drawn you over a 100 times before that bastard took him away from you. How sick and cruel of him to steal the last portrait your Italian lover ever painted of you. 

You cry and scream out hoping the nightmare will stop and you won't have to keep reliving every lover's death. Why must you be haunted by their corpses in your dreams? You should have stayed away, if they never met you they would have lived such long lives. All they were now we're ghosts of the past and corpses in the ground, the only things they had left in this world to show they even existed were the small scraps you kept safe and hidden. Pierre, you almost scream at the sight of his mangled body, his poems left to soak the blood and viscera around him as his lute was shattered sticking through his body like a pin cushion. No matter how many times you told him to stay away he never did. Pierre would follow you through the small sleepy French town playing his lute for you while reading you the love letters and poems he wrote to praise you. 

You cry and scream hoping you'll wake up. Maybe if you scream hard enough in your dream you'll finally wake up. Maybe Veve will sense your in distress and rescue you or maybe it will be Volk pulling you in close, you always woke him up with your violent sobbing and thrashing. You just wanted to stop running but you couldn't. That never worked even when you told yourself to stop, you knew this was a dream, you knew it wasn't real, but the bodies kept rising from the sea of blood. Oh how the bodies of your mortal lovers felt as fresh as the day you lost them. Dante, you screamed his name as loud as possible as you kept running hoping he'd hear you. He had died in your arms, your big strong bullfighter. He fought till his last breath just to finally tell you he loved you because you wouldn't allow him to when he was alive.

A scrap of his cape was all you had left of him. Just a torn red fabric that signified your fallen lover. You cried screaming as your head turned around your abuser was hot on your tail screaming and telling you to come back. You hated him, you despised him, your childhood friend was dead and gone the minute he assaulted you trying to forcefully mark you that night. He killed so many of your lovers for no reason other than he wanted you selfishly. He even had the balls and guts to take their bodies as trophies to try and make you come to him burning and destroying any piece of their existence to the ground. You tried so often to kill him or yourself to end this torment but having a flesh manipulation ability ment anyway you tried to end yourself wasn't going to happen. It was like every time you had attempted it you felt your lover's wills pushing you to keep living and your body just healed. Like if you ended it there sacrifices meant nothing and neither did their lives.

The final lover. The most recent of deaths. Danny. You cried as you ran your heart in your ears as you felt like you were gonna vomit. Your good old English bastard Danny. He loved you and he didn't care how many times you told him to piss off. He loved you so fiercely from the moment he met you declaring he'd do anything to see your smile as he never gave up trying to court you until the day your abuser came and took him away. You remember so clearly telling him smoking that pipe would cut his life short. You hated yourself now for making that joke as you wished the tobacco was what killed him. You remember him tossing you his lighter telling you to keep his good luck charm safe and he'd find you in the next life when he was stronger. You held the key to the escape in your hand begging Danny to come with you, finally telling him you loved him before he pushed you through the door. “ Remember to tell me that in the next life, love. I'll be seeing you around. “ A sick crunch could be heard as his body exploded on the other side of the door.

You stopped loving after Danny. It took you six tries and many years to learn that lesson. So much time has passed since you had a lover and you were finally trying again. But here you were now running for your life in this nightmare so your lover's sacrifices wouldn't go to waste. You knew how this dream was gonna end though. The same way it did every time with you being captured and swallowed whole by your personal demon. You stopped ready to accept your fate and end the dream before you heard two familiar voices, a glowing light reaching down to your black abyss. “ Mon Amour, such a beautiful face shouldn't fall to such dark shadows.” Pierre grabbed your left arm smiling at you with his blue eyes and long messy blonde hair. “ Don't forget my promise, love. I can't hear you say you love me if you're crying.” Danny grabbed your right arm smiling at you with his stubbled face and golden locks.

Your blood covered dress exploded into a swarm of moths, a dress of white fluff replacing it as you jumped eagerly into two of your lovers arms. When you curled closer into their forms you could feel them and smell them like they were really back. Tears flowed down your eyes as you breathlessly told them repeatedly you loved them, how you loved them all. How every night you spent time remembering them so they could live on. You felt two more hands find their way to you caressing you gently when you looked behind you Dante and Marzio were there comforting you. You couldn't hear their voices but they smiled at you white engulfing all of your bodies as you begged to hear them for them to speak. “ Just speak please Dante, Marzio. I'm begging you just bless me with your voices even if this is a dream or a vision something please I need you. I'm not strong on my own.” Danny kissed your tears away one last time squeezing you close. “ You have to wake up, love. We're waiting for you. “ You begged for him not to go but when you tried shooting awake screaming out to Danny two warm arms held you tight.

You freeze, not daring to open your eyes. You feel a hand caress your head playing with your hair. “ Is she done crying? She was thrashing pretty hard. “ Paul whispers to David worried as you had woken the four boys up with your movement. David continues rubbing your back as he holds your head to his chest. “ She seems to be calming down finally. I just hope she doesn't wake up and get upset. “ David places a kiss on your forehead trying to soothe you. “ Did you see that nightmare David?” You can feel your heart stop in your throat threatening to cry again. They could read your mind meaning they could see your dreams. They saw that whole thing, your past lovers and all, such a vulnerable and personal moment. Your body begins to shake involuntary, you prayed they didn't know you were awake. You didn't even remember falling asleep at the cave but then again you didn't remember anything after the alcohol hit you

“ We will kill that fucker if he shows up. Don't mention the nightmare to her though. It's not our business to ask.” Tears spill from your eyes again as you clutch onto David. You were sure this bastard was fully aware you were awake but here he was allowing to pretend you weren't. His shirt was wet with your tears and you were sure you kept him awake with your night terrors and here he was still holding you close protectively while soothing you. “ I'm just happy she's calming down now. I wish she didn't drink so much to win my guitar. I think I triggered her nightmare. “ You felt bad you wanted to comfort Paul but you were too scared to move. You wanted to check your neck for bite marks and you started hyperventilating. But suddenly you shot out of the bed like the devil was on your heels as a loud bang startled you up.

Everyone can hear Laddie yelling for help as a loud commotion can be heard from the cave entrance. Loud snarling and thunder echoing off the cave walls as a fight was going on. “ WHERE IS SHE! “ David can't grab you fast enough before you're dispersing into moths shooting from the entrance of the sleeping area to the cave launching yourself straight at the enemy. You don't even think before you claw wounds into your arms dispersing your blood everywhere before thousands of sharp bone daggers rapidly launch at the clouded figures in front of you. The smaller attacker launches themselves back while the taller one takes your attacks head on. Daggers pinning them in place like a bug on a board, you wrap your legs around the beast's throat ready to pierce a pick straight through the wolf's skull before you pause momentarily looking at the scar on the werewolf's right eye.

You pull your arm back before punching hardcore into the werewolves snout. “ What the fuck Volk!” The man transforms into his human form rubbing his face as blood spews violently down from his nose before he catches you from falling holding you up with one arm. “ What do you mean what the fuck. Your dumbass didn't come home last night. I woke up to Veve blowing up my house mirror. “ Speaking of your cousin she places Laddie down who she currently subdued with pheromones. “ You idiot! You scared us! I thought something happened again and you ran off or threw yourself in the ocean. Maybe even something worse and more stupid!“ Veve smacks the back of your head while Volk takes your neck covering off. Shocking the vampires surrounding you how you let these two fuss over you or let anyone take your covering off to begin with. The man lifts your hair touching your neck gaining a growl from the vampiric men In Front of him especially Paul who David's having to hold off for dear life. Veve standing holding them in place hissing as lighting zaps around her.

“ Good news, your neck is clear. Bad news you smell like vampire jizz and Vicks vapor rub “ Volk slaps the back of your bare neck before tieing a new choker he brought. You in retaliation smack the shit out of him with your tail. “ Yeah and how do you know what vampire jizz smells like huh furball. Secretly taking trips to the glory hole since you can't look women in the eyes.” The boys are fuming ready to attack but Volk lets a low growl pulling you away before David can grab you. “ Hey fang face back up. Can't you see I'm making sure you and your group didn't hurt our girl here. Fuckers couldn't even bother to bring her home. “ Dwayne grabs Volk by the collar ready to start a brawl before you separate the pair. “ For your information Volk I got drunk last night. They probably spent the time taking care of me. “

Veve chimes in from where she's fussing over a confused Laddie before she covers his ears. “ That would explain the vapor rub and no pants. (Y/n) never can keep her hands to herself when she's drunk. I'm surprised we didn't walk into her orgy deep. “ Volk gags as the two succubus chuckle. “ I don't wanna hear that gross shit. What y'all ladies do to feed is not my business but protecting y'all is. “ Volk shoots a glare at Dwayne who flashes his fangs back. You look at the two before shaking your head standing your ground to your protective friend. “ And they protected me all night. No neck bites. You're freaking out over nothing and appreciate it if you stood down Volk or do I have to drag you out by your snout. “ The man looks at you before growling and standing down, backing away from the vampires.

“ Can you leave our home now before you cause a turf war? Wouldn't look so good for a werewolf to be stirring unnecessary trouble in others business. “ David says smirking as he has his claws out ready to fight while he tries reaching to pull you back to his side but you step away. This causes a look of confusion on him and hurt. The nightmare is still fresh in your mind and the knowledge that not only David but also Paul was inside your dreams watching you live through your hell, it was a little too much to go running into their arms right now. You wanted space and to blow off some steam as your feelings felt confused and jumbled like you really weren't standing there. Your nightmare you've had for many years has changed. It was the first time ever your dead lovers reached out for you.

Something that made you upset and emotions raw as you tried to commune with their spirits so many times. Always being told the same thing by the shops and necromancers as you held the precious items. If you can't reach their spirit that must mean they have already reincarnated. It's anyone's guess what or who they could have become. You scratch at the binding vow on your wrist drawing blood as you turn from the boys walking away as Laddie brings you your stuff. That dream meant something and you were scared of what it would bring or what the future held. Maybe trying this love thing at all again would only bring doom. Volk could sense the tension in the air like rancid fish. He couldn't stand seeing you so moppy and depressed trying desperately to slide your mask back on when he knew it was falling off, he hated when you hid your true self.

The werewolf grabs you tossing you in the air catching you off guard with a yelp before leaping away from a pissed off Markos attack. Volk seamlessly catches you hauling you on his shoulder as he picks Laddie up, slinging him on his back and knocking an angry Paul over. The vampires start attacking in an angered frenzy at him but the werewolf is too quick and nimble even in his human form and carrying a woman and child. Veve has now retreated to the opening of the cave where the sun was so the vampires couldn't attack her by accident as she held your belongings shaking her head as you protested. “ Wow this is really all you guys got. And here I thought you wanted to date my girl here. “ He dodged a punch from Dwayne as he leaped away. “ Stop calling me your girl there going to get the wrong idea about us!” You scream trying to wiggle away from your friend's grip but he just laughs.

“ Give them back now. “ David hissed trying to rip this pompous werewolf a new one but he wasn't able to even grab him. “ Why should I give them back? You know how easy it was for me to get in here and steal them. As far as I'm concerned I'm not giving neither back till you prove to me as men that you can protect them instead of having to have ( Y/n ) guard your asses. “ The werewolf keeps bouncing around the room till he stops in the sunlight effectively stopping the vampires in their tracks. “ You want my blessing to court her and to get the kid back, come to the Santa Carla junkyard. I'll be having my pack guard your stupid cave till you prove you deserve them in your lives. You can't fend off me you have no hope in keeping either safe. “ Dwayne almost jumps into the light before the rest hold him back, Volk teasingly slaps your ass In Front of them to prove a point and pissing them off further.

“ She's my girl till then fang face. Training begins tonight.” Veve and Volk take off with you as the boys can do nothing to stop them. Not only had the werewolf stolen their youngest member and future mate they he had also dared to claim you as his own. To say the jealousy was taking over them was a little of an understatement as it took forever for them to go back to sleep while they waited to go collect you as soon as the sun went down. When Star and Micheal had showed up for the night they were immediately dragged in the direction of the junkyard as there was a score to settle and it was personal.

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“Did you really have to rile them up, Volk? I'm the one who's going to have to deal with their jealousy.” You say mumbling over the pancakes the werewolf was cooking for you as you sat in Paul's shirt and a skirt after your shower. “ They need to improve. Those spoiled vampires won't fight to get better if they aren't actually working towards something. Both me and you as fighters know this.” You look down, fiddling with your plate. “ Maybe I should give up on finding love. I'm just gonna get more people killed.” The werewolf stops in his tracks at the stove. Turning it off before he is turning towards you slamming his hands down on the counter shocking you.

“ And let that oni bastard get what he wants! I won't allow it. I may not like those vampire assholes but if they make you happy then you deserve to be happy with them!.” Volk looks into your eyes, refusing to allow you to look away from him as he points to the other room where Laddie was watching cartoons. “ That kid set off a chain of events that you can't run away from. He has changed you, they have changed you. You are finally changing for the better. Hell the thought you'd actually consider romance again is a huge step for you. I'm not allowing you to run away now! Even if I have to tie your tiny ass to a chair and force you on dates with them!” A small smile creeps to your face as Volk huffs at you in his pink apron.

“ But what if he finds me again. I've tried so many times to kill him, nothing I've done or said has ever stopped him. “ Volk huffs at this comment putting more pancakes and sausage on your plate. “ This time you won't be fighting alone. I'm gonna train all of them up to be as strong if not stronger than that bastard. “ You laugh as Volk puts his hand on his hip walking away to the living room to check on Laddie. “ Even the kid?” You ask as Volk yells back. “ Especially the kid!” You can't see him anymore as your friend is now bothering Laddie piling more food on the kids plate as the two chatter away about the cartoon they are watching. Volk was a kind man even when others couldn't see it. He has his flaws but he made up for it with his loyalty and kindness. You remember when you first introduced Laddie to him and he didn't even hesitate to act like the small boy was just family.

“ Here little man here's some more food. “ The man looks down at the plate of food In Front of little boy frowning. “ Eat your fruit to I even cut watermelon just for you. “ The little boy looks up from the TV shoveling more sausage in his mouth. “ I'm saving it for last. It's the yummiest. “ The older man ruffles Laddie's hair moving his head back and forth. “ You don't have to save the food dingus. Just ask for seconds. I'll go cut more up. “ Laddie shouts back a thank you with a mouth full of food being quickly chastised by both you and Volk for manners. This causes both of you to burst out laughing as you spend the rest of the daylight hours setting up a room for Laddie and calling a few friends for your little training event this week.

Setting up the fighting ring wasn't hard and neither was finding opponents for tonight. The problem was trying to figure out how to train vampires. I mean you and Volk were used to knowing your own limits but figuring out how to train the others was going to be a challenge with not understanding what the species was capable of. This meant your only choice was to rely on your basic studies and the books you could find on vampires. Flight training, telepathic training, strength, and general reflexes was all you had on your list as you two sat around with Laddie still focusing on his training. “ Maybe we can teach them how to use weapons. I mean they wouldn't be the first fight club to need them. “ You say scrolling through your mirror as Laddie continues punching a log next to you.

Volk taps on the mirror's surface pulling a clip of vampire's top speed. “ Wow those dudes are really slow if top vampires are moving so fast it looks like they're teleporting. “ You tilt your head holding the mirror, sliding your hand on it to pull over another screen replaying a video taken from your fight with Paul and Marko. Sitting back comparing the two and looking at your own mach speed statistics you sigh. “ Yeah this isn't good. It appears there pretty much at the lowest of their species. Like a human who sits on the couch all day snacking Doritos. I remember easily lapping them but looking at the footage if I even used just basic fighting techniques they would have been toast. “ Volk pulls another video and statics page up as you two lounge in the booth of the fight ring. “Did you know some vampires have telekinesis and telepathy. It's not common but it can happen. Apparently Alucard has been documented to float swords around. Maybe one of them could do that. “

You look over to Volk raising an eyebrow as you hand Laddie his snack. “ I think they all have basic mind reading abilities but only David appears to have the ability to manipulate anybody. I think we'd have an easier time getting them to transform into bats then flinging swords about with their mind. “ Laddie peaks up from this statement. “ A bat! Can I turn into a bat the way you transform into moths!” You smile letting out a laugh as you allow Laddie to crawl into the seat next to you. “ No, I think only Dracula and high level vampires do the multiple bat thing but I imagine you can turn into a bat when we figure it out. You're already showing immense strength and speed so I don't see why not.” Laddie bounces up and down excitedly for the prospect of being a bat while Volk pats his head. “ You are getting really strong. All that day time endurance training is paying off for your strength at night you can already easily punch through solid oak. Now we just gotta get you to fly instead of jump little dude and you'll be ready to fight that hog like we said. “

The pair start chasing each other around playfully as Laddie shadows boxes Volk while the man takes the hits playfully dodging and running away from the little boy. Thank God Werewolves were tough to hurt and their hides were impenetrable from anything except for silver. This made Volk the best teacher for Laddie as Dwayne could hardly take hits from him anymore let alone someone like Star or Micheal. You were happy the little man was improving so quickly you hoped the rest of the pack could as well. The sun was starting to set and you could hear your guests arriving for the night. Particularly you can hear Calypso and Puck chanting for Laddie to kick Volks ass. “ Lad-dee, Lad-dee, Lad-dee!!!”. Throwing yourself off the top of the wall you fly down to where the men were to start setting up. “ You got drinks and food for tonight's training sesh (Y/n) I'm starving. “ Calypso says walking over to grab items from you.

“ Sent Veve to go order from Yutaj at the night market. So I hope everyone brought their appetites that woman gets excited to cater for the club. “ Puck stops fooling around with Laddie and Volk at the mention of his favorite lady of the night. “ Is Veve gonna be here?” You turn to the werewolf laughing at his eagerness to see your cousin. “ She said she'll watch but she doesn't want to participate. “ You can see the big dope of a man practically wagging his tail in excitement to see her. “ I wouldn't want her to fight in any way. I'll fight for her. “ A big smile beams across his face but is quickly knocked off when he gets caught in the crossfire of Laddie and Volks rough housing by collecting a straight full force punch from Laddie in the gut knocking him back.

The sun was now gone and the moon was up. People were eagerly funneling into the arena ready for the nighttime training. It was more like a party with how many people were around getting ready to train the vampires stretching, eating or drinking. Laddie was enjoying the party and attention as warm up matches began between instructors who were eagerly waiting for their “students” to arrive. You and Veve had gotten to work setting up the weapons and workout gear while making sure the speakers were operational in the stands. As Volk helped you stretch out your muscles suddenly the familiar sound of Motorcycles could be heard. The man smiled wickedly as that meant the festivities could begin. The pack of vampires were going to have a busy few weeks ahead of them as they had no idea what lies beyond the gates eagerly waiting for their arrival. All of them would be changed forever by the end of these weeks of hell.

( Chapter 7 )

Comments and Likes appreciated. I enjoy all the feed back I get about this little passion project of mine.

[kluskinoodles]

OKAY OKAY SO—so buckle up buddy boy!! I’ve been waiting for this moment!! Warnings for child abuse, period typical homophobia, and Cohen being Cohen.

Also sorry if this is all over the place and possibly incoherent, I am horrible at writing. I’m doing this in two parts because my brain isn’t working right now and im super excited to share these. I’m also super sorry if all of this is cringe 😭😭.

First up, MARTIN FINNEGAN!!

It is well known that Martin was found by Cohen in Marseilles, France in 1937. While Martin admired Cohen’s paintings, Cohen simply admired his body or “carriage” as he puts it. I’ll get back to Cohen and him later. Now my take on his background, Martin was born January 2nd, 1917 in Marseilles, France. He was the 2nd oldest of 6 kids, he was the quietest one out of all of them. My mans got the ✨Autism✨, but was never diagnosed because, you know Early 1900s. He learned at an early age it was easier to mask his emotions than express them and get punished for it. He has a horrible relationship with his father because of a huge fight they had over how “embarrassing” Martin is because he likes men. He was forced to come out after his father forcefully made him have a mental breakdown. He then got kicked out :(. His favorite media is clay, his usual art is sculptures and pottery. He doesn’t get social cues so when Cohen started flirting with him, he just stared at him dead panned like 🧍‍♂️. Since he masks like all the time, it makes him seem emotionless, just serious all the time. I know I said before but when Martin trusts/likes someone he makes him little trinkets. He’s made Cohen three small rabbits, Silas two cats, Hector a few elephants, and Kyle a dog. Martin’s also multilingual, he can speak Italian, English, and his native language French! He works out a bit but not much, just when he can get the motivation to do so. He has done a multitude of drugs with Cohen, with Martin kind of being peer pressured into doing them. He was not a fan of the nose bleeds. He has been to jail once for public intoxication and assault. Even though he is usually Cohen’s stage hand, he really wanted to be in one of his performances, but Cohen just wouldn’t let him. After getting locked up in Fort Frolic he started to splice up and go insane himself. He got really obsessed over ice sculpture. But when the ice started melting and ruining his work. He had to find a new medium to pair with ice and started freezing other splicers.

On to relationships!!! His relationship with the other disciples is kinda weird. Silas and him have a weird bond, basically neurodivergent to neurodivergent communication. He just kind of wishes that Silas would stop calling him a new nickname every conversation, but he really likes the nickname “Iceman”. His and Hector’s, it’s complicated, Martin sees him as a friend and a colleague thingy while Hector has been flirting with him (drunkenly of course) for a while. Martin has not realized he’s being flirted with and thinks Hector’s just being his drunk, incoherent self. Now Kyle, he doesn’t despise the kid but he is a bit jealous. Ever since Kyle came around Cohen’s attention has gone solely to him, than Martin and the other two. They are both on a mutual respect level. Now with Cohen, that’s a different story entirely. Like all the disciples, he loved Cohen for his art and romantically. But after Kyle came along and Cohen fell deeper into insanity, like the others, his love quickly turned to hate.

Okay okay!! Next up is Silas!! We don’t really know how Cohen found him so I’m here to fill in the gaps!!

Being born Silas Joseph Maurice Cobb on October 18th, 1926 to a poor family in Nashville, Tennessee. He was the middle of 3 siblings. He has an older brother and a younger sister. His father was put in jail after he broke Silas’ jaw after finding him playing around in his mother’s makeup. Well he didn’t go to jail straight away, Silas’ mother Dolores beat the shit out of him before throwing him out bleeding in the streets. The man was too embarrassed to go to the police but after Dolores took Silas to the hospital, she was forced to file a police report. And that’s why Silas face is messed up on his right side! Silas has ADHD but isn’t diagnosed because you know early 1900s. He’s was a huge Mama’s boy, I think Silas is the only one out of the four of them that didn’t get kicked out and/or shunned when he came out to his mom 😭😭. He kind of was a draft dodger. He has had cats ever since he was little. From childhood up til leaving for Rapture, he had owned over 16 cats. He was a college drop out from a college in New York. Being the first of his family to go to college, he didn't have the heart to tell his mother. He lived on the streets and in his beat up car with his 11 year old cat, Bia. He sung on the streets and anywhere he could, and did prostitution to make money before Cohen found him in 1944 and took him in. Cohen liked Cobb for his singing voice, and also other features. Cobb knows how to play guitar and saxophone. When he got down below, he started making Martin dye his hair brown and when he got his Record shop he started to collect records, and also taught himself how to mix his own. He was also big on sound profiles. He was an Audiophile! Later down the line he started to hang out with Culpepper, just to piss off Cohen but then it turned into an actual friendship between the two. When Culpepper started to create "Cohen's Songbird", she bounced ideas and gained info through Silas on Cohen and Ryan. Like Martin he also puts on a mask. Which makes him seem like he doesn’t give a shit about anything, that he only cares about his “darling little shop”, and that he is a hothead with arsonist tendencies. This personality he puts on makes him an overall nuisance, just a real brat. Doing everything super slowly to piss people off, setting things on fire, picking fights, just an overall dick. Hell, he even taught himself how to make timed Napalm explosives for a plan B. He’s done coke before, but his preferred drug of choice is probably morphine, he raided one of the pharmacies for some. He will tell you he doesn’t have an addiction and then turn around and shoot up. He may have some gender dysphoria, but as he puts it “Everyone feels that way!” Like no honey, not everyone feels uncomfortable in their own body. After getting locked up in Fort Frolic, he held himself up in his record shop and basically waiting for Cohen to take him up on his challenge to fight him. His relationship with the others is neutral mostly, he calls all of them pet names like “Sugar”, “Kitten”, “Honey”, and “Baby Doll”. He calls Kyle “Fitzy” to get under his skin, he basically gets on everyone's nerves. He also flirts with all three of them. He really doesn’t like that Cohen dragged Kyle into all this, since Kyle is young of only 20. So when Cohen would get mad or annoyed at Kyle, Silas would do something bigger to make Cohen pissed AT HIM instead of Kyle, this can range from making bomb threats to setting some of his paintings on fire. He’s not going to admit it but my guy is down bad for the newbie (Kyle). Now with Cohen, he loved Cohen for his art, romantically, and because Cohen paid his rent for his record shop and apartment. After a while, he started to get annoyed with Cohen for not crediting him and all that jazz, and getting jealous when he didn’t get his attention. So he started being a brat. But when they all got locked up in Fort Frolic, like the others, his love turned to hate and then he just really wanted to beat Cohen to death (he’s always wanted to but now he really wants to).

Heres part 1 of 2! Sorry if it’s incoherent. They both mask like me fr fr but without me the illegal stuff.

@arsont-t @js-sexchange-surgeon-steinman