#the fabric looks slightly muddy too rip

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

new art for merch?

They’re really hyping up this release for some reason 🤔 so maybe it’ll be an extensive line of new merch featuring this art??

It seems to feature the TWST boys in the more classic Disney traditional animation art style. The clothes are suits with sashes and crystalline sleeves, which look like something a Disney prince would wear (just with less color).

So far only two examples have been released (Riddle and Leona, pictured below). We will see more designs in the days in come!

[slasherberry-shortcake]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You Mean The World⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ (RZ Michael x GN! Reader)

Hi all :]

This is the first fic that I'm uploading on Tumblr! It's kind of self-indulgent, as I personally absolutely love RZ Michael, but y'know, I'm also doing it for you guys! Let's get into it, loves~ (written in 2nd person)

NOT PROOFREAD AND FEM DNI PLEASE

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

It was a cold night, one that you hadn't felt in a while. You stayed cozy in your home, your large boyfriend curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. You'd attempted to cover the man with a blanket earlier, but to no avail, as the fabric ended up slipping off of his body. You felt his comfortable aura warm you, your gleaming eyes staring softly at the one whom you loved. You longed to run to him where he lay, kiss all over to wake him up. To spend time with him, the time you so desperately craved. Your love was pure, and you felt so complete just staring at him. His chest rose and fell, the deep sound of his sleeping breath lulling you deeper into the sense of love you knew so well. Hesitantly, you stood, silently sweeping to the armrest of the couch, falling gently to your knees to play with the man's tangled and curled hair. As you lay your delicate fingers within his locks, he stirs, a deep exhale snapping you back to your senses, ripping you back from the rose-colored world you found yourself lost in, again and again. He tilted his head upwards to gaze at you, him being slightly annoyed by the rude interruption of his slumber.

You lifted yourself from the floor, laying a gentle and sweet kiss on his sweaty forehead, "Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?" He grunted gruffly in response, watching groggily as you wiped the salt from your lips.

"You're dirty," you whispered, watching the sweat that dripped down his throat turn a muddy brown from the dirt that clung to his skin, "You should shower, I can help."

These offers were common, your love inspiring you to tend to the needs of your lover, wanting to keep him in the perfect condition for when he rests at home. Sure, dirt covers the scent of a clean soap here and there, but this wasn't a hunt. This was your quality time, the time you loved to keep him all to yourself. You often request to bathe him, as you love watching the way the steam relaxes the tall man, the way his tension and high walls crumble down to your soft touch.

He glanced at you, a playfully offended look hidden in his eye. He knew what you had meant by the comment, but he liked to tease you. He liked watching you squirm, watching you scramble and gulp. He did it out of love, of course, he could never actually be offended or hurt by you. You both cared for each other too much for that to happen. HE sat up, his sitting figure even towering over you. He nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

You helped him undress and sink into the steaming bath water, your eyes drifting to his pectorals. You never used this as an excuse to peek at his body, well...not usually, but today was different. You wanted to soak in his features, feel the warmth in your cheeks grow as his large hands brace himself on the edges of the tub, a deep and low growl exiting his chapped lips. You blushed slightly, planning to excuse it as the steam if Michael questioned it. You smiled and got the body wash, saying in a soft tone, "Ready, Mikey?"

The man nodded, watching you lather the loofa that you had bought specially for him. Your hands moved sluggishly, twitching as you reached his chest. He exhaled at your touch, his form slumping in pleasure. You worked his chest with the soap, fingers helping to scrub at the man's fuzzy chest. Your nails created a lovely friction upon his skin, causing another exhale and more slumping. You were better than he remembered.

After finishing his body, you moved to his hair, scratching his scalp lovingly as you shampooed his dirty blonde hair. His body was as submerged as possible for a man of his stature, his head almost lulling into the now soapy and dirty water. He breathed in and out, his chest shaking with every pleasurable scratch you gave to the soft skin of his scalp. You rinsed the bubbles away, squeezing out the water from his hair. You stood from your position, waiting for him to stand and exit the tub. You held your hand out, giving him something to grasp though you didn't help him all that much (he certainly appreciated it regardless). He stepped onto the bath mat, a habit you wish he would not be used to. You always asked him to dry himself first, but he always seemed to forget. You held up the towel to him, kissing the hand that gently stole the cloth away from your grasp. He dried himself off on the bath mat, water splashing onto the tiled flooring, causing you to giggle softly.

After Michael was dry, you handed him the pajamas you'd picked to give him, the soft fabric guaranteed to keep him warm tonight. "Was that a good bath, angel?" you asked him, your eyes half-lidded as he dressed himself. He glanced at you, nodding his head slowly. You knew he was sincere with the slower nods he gave, and the low grunts and groans he'd slip in from time to time. It was adorable that you memorized his tells, it made you feel proud of yourself and your ability to read the man like a book.

After he dressed, you grabbed his hand, practically dragging him back out to the couch in front of the stone hearth. You snuggled into his side, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap that clung to his now-cleansed body. His big arm draped around your smaller shoulders, a soft kiss placed on your scalp soon afterward. The sweet aroma and the warmth of his body and the fire lulling you to sleep.

"I love you, Michael," you whispered, falling asleep nestled into his side, "I love you. so much."

[sunshinebarbie]

only love can hurt like this

pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader x Changbin warnings: angst, language, alcohol consumption, very light and brief spicy moments (like very mild pg smut), also some very harsh exchange of words (that will NEVER happen in real life), oh and once again so likely inaccurate information. words: 4,167 parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | FINAL taglist:@q1sng, @sp00ky-spr1te, @yumiblogs, @muddy-waters, @ilysunki, @qtieskz, @axel-skz-main, @skz-codeeee a/n: okay so i was iffy like REALLY iffy about this part, because i am digging myself into a drama hole so deep i honestly don't know how i am going to pull out of it!! like so many things are happening and idk how it is going to go from here tbh! i have part 5 in the process but trying to figure out a turning point is like...hard haha but please enjoy!

Things have quieted down for the most part, it’s been officially three weeks since your break up with Bang Chan, and he seemed to be doing better. At least according to Felix when you last saw him for lunch the other day.  

Still, as you gently and carefully put on your make-up you couldn’t help but shake the feeling that agreeing to going to this event with Changbin wasn’t the best idea. You didn’t want to ruin any progress that Chan was having. 

You pulled through the boxes of your clothes, there was a beautiful red dress that you have been dying to wear, but through each box you ripped open it, just didn’t seem to be there. You were shuffling through the last box when you pulled out a black dress that shaped your body perfectly. You frowned at the dress and just decided it was the only option.  

Carefully you smoothed the fabric of your dress and looked at yourself in the mirror. Getting lost in your reflection you couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Memories of the last event you attended with Bang Chan crept up. You swore you could feel his warmth behind you as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your neck. “you look beautiful, I don’t want anyone to see you.” he teased. 

The knocking on the door pulled you from that trance, you opened your eyes only to see yourself holding your tummy where you pictured Chan’s hand were holding you tenderly. You sighed and reached for your clutch and headed to the entrance. 

You opened the front door, Changbin looked at you with wide eyes. His mouth slightly open as he scanned you from top the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.  

“y/n” he whispered. He realized how weird he sounded and cleared his throat. “you look absolutely beautiful” he gushed. 

“you sure it’s not too much?” you stepped out of the door and closed it behind you. “i mean, it’s just a album launch.” you chuckled. Changbin didn’t seem to hear, he was still focused on how stunning you looked. Tonight, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.  

“Binnie?” you waved your hand in front of his eyes playfully. “hmm? Oh, uh-” he blushed. “no we’re not late, or-” he looked at you as you covered your smile trying not to laugh. “or-what did you say?” he was now chuckling at his own nervousness.  

“are you sure it’s okay for us to go together?” you swallowed the lump of nerves in your throat. “as friends?” the last part of that was hard to say. 

You felt like you might have exposed yourself a little more than you wanted to, because Changbin shifted the weight of his stance and ran his fingers nervously through his hair.  

Changbin smiled and nodded in response. “yeah, just-” he exhaled “friends.” You stepped towards Changbin and picked a speck of lint off the shoulder of his sleeve and wiped away the tiny mound of fabric creating a smooth surface again. 

“now you look perfect too.” you looked into his eyes, and he was looking back into yours. Never had you seen a prettier shade of brown.  

“ready?” he cleared his throat while looking away. “yeah.” you replied quietly, he allowed you to walk in front of him, and offered to hold your clutch as you controlled the skirt of your dress to walk down the stairs. 

You both arrived at the JYP building, immediately the sea of paparazzi blinded you by the flashes of their cameras as the doorman opened your car door.  

You felt the nerves in your tummy but immediately the feeling eased as Changbin grabbed your hand and shielded you from the lights. 

Without stopping he walked you into the building and stopped until you were both out of the view of the paparazzi. “you okay?” he asked looking to see if anyone could see you both. “yeah,” you nodded and looked down at your hand still being held tightly by his.  

“but I don’t think that convinced anyone we are just friends” you joked. Changbin saw where your gaze was and dropped your hand. “yeah, sorry. I just thought the less pictures of us together would give people less of a reason to think we are dating.”  

You looked up and noticed Bang Chan with a drink in hand standing parallel to you and Changbin. “we should go inside.” you walked past Changbin and towards the coat check in.  

Changbin watched you walk away, and his focus went over to Bang Chan. He sighed and walked over to his friend who turned away sipping his drink as if he wasn’t just staring. 

“Chan.” he approached him. “there’s nothing going on huh?” Bang Chan swirled the ice in his glass. “there really isn’t” Changbin replied. “I invited her over because-” he tried to think of a reason that didn’t sound like he was trying to date you. 

“because why?” Bang Chan downed what was left of his drink, and left the glass on the table next to a few other empty or forgotten glasses.  

“because, she is my friend too in case you forgot” Changbin replied annoyed. “i get that you're still getting over the break up but that doesn’t mean the rest of us have to cut ties with her.” he added.  

Bang Chan looked at his friend and pushed himself off the stair railing he was leaning on. “well it’s your life Changbin, you don’t need my permission for who you can or can’t hang out with” he slurred and left. 

Changbin huffed in annoyance and went to check in his coat, you were already in the event, the music blasted loudly, echoing the lyrics off the walls. You spotted Felix, Han and Seungmin standing by a photo booth taking photos.  

You waved at them, Han noticed and motioned you over. “hey! What are you doing here?” Felix noticed you finally. He pulled you into a hug and nudged you towards Han who hugged you next followed by Seungmin.  

“Changbin invited me the day you guys helped me with my stuff.” you replied. “oh, where is Changbin?” Han looked around, “i’m not sure, I lost him at the coat check in” you shrugged. “but we’re just friends so-” you frowned. 

Felix looked at Han and back at you, “do you say that to everyone? Like about us too?” Seungmin teased. Just then Changbin appeared. “drink?” he handed you a glass of red wine. “thank you” you smiled and took a long sip. 

“so are you guys going to sit with us?” Han asked, seeing Bang Chan was sitting with Lee Know and Hyunjin at the table. “uh-” Changbin looked at you. “only if-” he pointed to you and towards the table. “you sit with your friends.” you interrupted. “i can find a seat for the plus one’s” you smiled.  

The announcer called everyone to their seats. Changbin looked at you disappear behind a crowd of people. He found his seat next to Jeongin and Lee Know.  

You blended in with the wall, your glass in your hand as TWICE took the stage. The girls performed earning thunderous applause. You finally spotted an empty seat two tables away from the boys’ table. You took a seat and the waitress hurried over to top off your drink. 

Another walked over and placed a dinner plate in front of you. You kept looking over at the boys’ table. Bang Chan was leaning over talking to Changbin, the two started laughing about some kind of joke and you smiled seeing that their bond was still stronger than ever.  

The girls performed their last song and thanked everyone for being there. The waitresses began to clear tables and the DJ started to play music to keep the party going. “seat taken?” Changbin pulled the empty chair next to you out and took a seat. 

“it is now.” you joked. “Sorry for ditching you.” he sighed. “no, it’s fine.” you shrugged. “this is your world, and I'm just tagging along.” you joked.  

You listened as the next song started out slowly, Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. You smiled at a memory not even the wine you were sipping could stop from pulling through. You were in the kitchen with Bang Chan celebrating the release of their last album. There was a bottle of champagne on ice in the sink. The rest of the boys left and the two of you were still buzzing, mostly because Bang Chan couldn’t stop gushing about how much work he put into this album.  

(“i can’t believe it.” he smiled as he poured you another glass of champagne. “it’s already reached over 5 million streams within the first hour.” he gushed. “you earned it babe.” you tilted your glass towards his, the rims both kissed each other in a light clink. “let me play a song.” he opened his phone and pressed play on the last song he was listening to. “We found love right where we are-” Ed Sheeran belted only to be paused immediately. “were you listening to Ed Sheeran?” you teased. “it’s a good song” he replied with a cheesy smile. “play it.” you encouraged and jumped off the counter where you were sitting. “no.” he blushed. “come on, play it.” you closed the space between the two of you. You tilted his phone towards you, tapped the button to replay the song and pressed play. The song started from the beginning; you slurred the lyrics earning a giggle from Bang Chan, you smiled and mumbled the lyrics since you didn’t really know them from heart. Bang Chan started to sing making you smile widely, the more into the song he got, he put his hands on your waist. “darling, I will be loving you ‘til we’re 70” he sang as he moved you gently around the small kitchen area. It didn’t matter, it felt like a ballroom fit for just the two of you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkled even in the poorly lit kitchen. You closed your eyes and tilted your head towards his...) 

“do you want to dance?” Changbin asked with wide eyes pulling you from the memory. You looked at him and then over at the Stray Kids table and saw Bang Chan sitting with another freshly filled drink. “to this song?” you bit your lip. “it might be the only slow song for the night.” Changbin replied “but we don’t have to if slow songs aren’t your thing” he put his head down. 

“no,uhm-” you looked over at Bang Chan who was looking right back at you, you were sure he was thinking of the same memory. “sure, let’s dance” you stood up and pulled Changbin to his feet. The two of you walked to the dance floor, you found a big enough space. His hands found their spot on your waist as he started to move you to the song. Bang Chan sat up straight seeing as Changbin moved your hips slowly to the song. He extended his arm and twirled you making you burst into laughter. 

You twirled back into his body and leaned your head against his chest. You closed your eyes, drunk on the smell of his cologne. “you know, we are pretty bad at trying to convince people we are just friends” you joked. “you know the only person who seems to be worried about what others will think or say is you?” Changbin replied still moving you to the song. “i think I stopped caring two drinks ago.” he laughed making you laugh too. 

You looked at him, and he was already looking at you. His eyes, those brown eyes. You swore you would get lost in them. Your focus switched over to the table where Bang Chan was sitting, getting an eyeful. Bang Chan looked at you, his eyes on the verge of tears. It was enough to make a tear slip down your cheek, you quickly wiped it away. “excuse me” you broke his embrace. “I need air.” you walked away, hiding the tears that were falling. You walked to your table and grabbed your wine glass, you looked back in the direction of Bang Chan’s chair but he was gone.  

Spotting the nearest exit to the outdoor balcony you hurried over and closed the door behind you. The air was cold and crisp. You stood by the railing and looked over the city. You lifted your glass of wine to your lips and took a small sip. “we missed the sunset” Bang Chan’s voice startled you from out of the dark. 

You gasped and held your chest and sighed in relief seeing him sitting on a concrete bench. “I-I-” you stammered.  

Bang Chan stood up and walked until he was right next to you, he leaned against the balcony railing and looked at the city as well, his glass twisted between his fingertips. You looked towards the door and back at him, wondering if he wanted to talk or if this was just an awkward moment.  

You turned to leave when Bang Chan spoke again stopping you. “I remember the first time I seen you in that dress.” he chuckled and took a sip of his drink. 

“We- we went to that brunch event with Felix for Louis Vuitton.” He took another sip of his drink, almost like the memory was too painful to think of sober.  

“you showed up after us, and the sequins that used to be on the hip snagged against the car door and ripped a hole and all the beads and jewels scattered on the sidewalk.” he chuckled, you smiled remembering it too. 

“yeah, I remember.” you relaxed and leaned against the railing too. “I was too embarrassed to pick up the sequins because the paparazzi were snapping photos like crazy so I ran inside.” you added.  

“i found you and Felix and told you what happened.” you took a sip of your wine. “the rest of the afternoon, you kept your hand on my hip to cover the hole.” you blushed. “Everyone just said we were very much in love. That's why you couldn’t keep your hands off me.” 

Bang Chan’s face sunk into sadness at the statement. “i see you fixed the hole.” he looked over at you and downed the rest of his drink. Leaving the glass on the edge he walked over to you. He closed the small space between the two of you. You slowly backed up until you were pressed against the wall.  

“It was right here” his fingertip traced a light circle against your side. “no.” you practically whispered. Grabbing his hand, you guided his palm down the curves of your body “it’s lower” you looked him straight in the eyes and stopped right on your hip. Chan smiled as he felt the small patch of your flesh through the hole. 

Chan’s hand was hot to the touch, you could feel it against your skin and could feel it radiating through the fabric of your dress. Chan looked into your eyes; the glistening of the city lights mixed with the glaze from his alcohol made his eyes sparkle. His focus shifted between your eyes, and your lips. You could see him slowly moving forward with each interval.  

“tell me to stop.” he whispered against your lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. Your only response was a gentle nod of your head. Your eyes closed as Bang Chan pressed a strong kiss against your lips. Your wine glass fell into pieces by your feet as your fingers began to comb through his hair behind his head. 

He pressed sloppy drunken kisses against your jaw, leaving a trail of wet pecks down to your neck. You moaned quietly, you missed his touch, you missed being this dangerously close to him. His hands hooked under your thighs as he lifted your legs and you wrapped them around his waist. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his teeth graze against the skin on your shoulder.  

“Channie” you moaned breathlessly. You opened your eyes, and immediately felt your heart stop. As Changbin closed the curtain and walked away from the door.  

“Changbin” you planted your feet back on the balcony floor. You pushed past Bang Chan and hurried back inside. 

You looked around in a panic, and finally spotted him by the coat desk. Pulling your dress up a bit for more movement you hurried over to Changbin. 

“Binnie” you panted trying to catch your breath. “I don’t want to hear it y/n” he sighed and tipped for his coat service. 

“you don’t understand” you hurried after him, “then explain it to me?” he turned to you. His tone gathering the attention of a few bystanders. 

You stood there lost for words. “WELL?!” his tone was now harsh and filled with anger. You felt your eyes beginning to well as you flinched. 

“I don’t know” your lip trembled. “if this is a game to you y/n, I don’t want to be a pawn.” He replied and turned away to leave.  

“it’s not like that Changbin” you assured him through your tears. “i really don’t know, I am just as confused.” you wiped your tears.  

Changbin stopped and sighed deeply, he turned to you and closed the space between the both of you. He placed your face between his palms, you gasped as he pulled you into his kiss. He pulled away as quickly as he kissed you.  

You stood there, speechless just waiting for his next move. Changbin didn’t say anything, he just turned and left you standing there alone. You lifted your fingertips and gently caressed your lips. They were still buzzing from Changbin’s kiss.  

Back home Changbin was getting ready for bed, he finished washing up his face when there was a knock on his door. “I already said I don’t want to be bothered.” he announced bitterly.  

Changbin opened the door, before he had a chance to react, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into your lips. Your lips hungrily pressed against his not giving him a chance to take a breath.  

His hands found your waist as he pulled away, looking at you with confusion. “are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as you caught your breath. “i’m here aren’t I?” you raised your eyebrow and pulled him in for another kiss. 

Changbin didn’t question it anymore, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lift you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt him carry you into his bedroom. You unclenched his waist and got back on your feet. Pulling at the hem of his shirt, he lifted his arms and helped you pull his shirt off and threw it across the room. 

You pressed your lips against his again, you felt him snake his arms around you again and pull you until the both of you collapsed onto his bed. His hands crawled up your back finding the zipper of your dress. He pulled it downward only for it to jam making it impossible to come down after a few tugs. 

“fuck” he grumbled, grabbing your waist he flipped you over onto your back and he was now hovering over you, he pressed hungry kisses down the valley of your breast that were still covered by your dress. He propped himself up as he spotted the hole on the hip of your dress. His fingers pushed through, and pulled hard. 

The tearing sound of your dress felt like it was loud enough for the apartment next door to hear. Changbin ripped the dress far enough to reveal your tummy, he pressed tender kisses against your skin that made you suck air through your teeth.  

He continued to rip your dress further up exposing more skin and pressing a kiss down so no patch of flesh was left without a kiss. The wine buzz was finally starting to fade, and a more rational version of yourself began to think.  

You looked towards the window, at the shadows of the trees against the glass. Changbin pressed his lips against your neck making you gasp. You put your arms in front of you and gently pushed him enough to signal him to stop.  

“what’s wrong?” he asked pulling away from you enough for you to wiggle out from underneath him. You sat up and pulled his blankets up to cover your exposed body. Changbin sat up and leaned forward to see you sniffling, and tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“Chan?” he mumbled. “i’m sorry” you sniffled, and choked out a sob. “no, don’t be.” Changbin placed his hand on your shoulder. You lost control and sobbed into his blanket; pretty sure it was now stained with your make-up.  

“i love you Changbin” you looked at him with swollen tear-filled eyes. “but Chan-” you sniffled. Changbin exhaled that turned into a sigh. “you hate me now right?” you looked at him as more tears escaped your eyes.  

Changbin looked at you surprised. “no.” he wiped your tears with his thumbs. “i could never hate you y/n” he smiled weakly. “Bang Chan doesn’t know how lucky he is.” Changbin added. “he has aejeong” Changbin pulled his legs towards him and rested his arms on his knees. He looked back at you and got off of the bed.  

You watched as he walked to his closet and pulled out some sweats and a t-shirt. “here.” he handed them to you. You grabbed them from his hand, and placed them on your lap. “i can get the shower going for you, and we can just watch a movie if you want.”  

You smiled and nodded. Changbin pulled out a shirt for himself and put it on as he walked out the door to the bathroom. You wiped your tears again and crawled out of bed, your dress was ruined but you still folded it and put it on the end table. 

As you showered, you heard the front door knock through the walls. You ignored it thinking Changbin ordered some food. You turned off the shower and climbed out finding the towels Changbin left for you on the sink. 

You could hear Changbin talking to someone outside, you quickly changed into the clothes Changbin gave you and walked out of the bathroom. “Who’s here Binnie?” you asked and walked into the living room. Just then Changbin and Bang Chan looked up at you at the same time. 

You felt your jaw drop “are you serious right now?” Bang Chan stood up, clearly angry and annoyed. “Chan it’s not what it looks like” Changbin stood up. “I came here, and poured my heart and soul out to you about this.” Bang Chan was at loss for words. “You sat here and listened to me make a fool of myself, all while she cleaned herself up after a good fuck?!” he shoved Changbin. 

“Chan.” you hurried and put yourself between the two guys. “stop, he is telling the truth. nothing happened.” you turned and extended your arms towards Changbin who was ready to push back. “i don’t believe you.” Chan fought back his anger. 

“you’re drunk Chan, go sleep it off.” Changbin pushed your arms away from his chest and shoved you to the side. You looked at Changbin with wide eyes from his actions.  

“you know what? my biggest mistake was choosing you to be part of the group” Chan pointed to Changbin and turned to leave. “Chan!” you shot a glare of disappointment at him.  

“whatever” Bang Chan turned grabbing his jacket. “yeah? Well my biggest mistake was accepting” Changbin replied “stop it! both of you!” you shouted.  

“Chan,” you turned to him. “save it, I don’t want to hear it. Sorry to interrupt” he pulled the door open forcefully that it hit the wall with a loud thud. 

You turned to Changbin who was holding back his tears. “Changbin” you stepped towards him. “go home y/n” he turned and started back to his room. “on the subject of mistakes, the real mistake was getting involved with your relationship bullshit” he looked at you over his shoulder and went back to his room, slamming his door shut. 

Your entire surroundings went mute, a light humming in your ears blocked out the sniffling coming from your nose. You could feel the tears rolling down your face, but your face felt numb. You could only stand there holding your breath, knowing the moment the air entered your lungs you would burst into uncontrollable sobs.  

You grabbed your clutch that you threw on the floor when you got there and hurried out the still open front door. You closed it behind you, and with only bare feet hurried down the sidewalk to the nearest bus stop.  

[obxone]

Rafe's Actions (Part 1)

Unedited-- ~2.6k words

I wasn't sure I would post this. It feeds off another longer fic that I have been working out and starting to write. It'll be longer (like 20 or so parts), but this one is only two. It's dark and it's vulnerable.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, non-con attempt, dark elements.

You couldn’t believe it had happened as it had. It had started out as a magical night and so promising. Never did you dream that you would see that side of him directed at you. You had seen it before, plenty of times, but it had just never been directed at you. Others had warned you, told you to be careful, and you hadn’t listened. You thought you could be the one to soften him. 

You stared at the blacktop, the cold numb coating you like a blanket of ice, while you walked down the empty road. It was nearing midnight and the rain storm had cleared out. You were soaked to the bone, cold and muddy. Your feet ached and were raw from walking several miles barefoot through Kildare. You knew you couldn’t go home, not like this. You didn’t feel safe there anyways. He knew how to get to you anywhere you could go, but one place. The Chateau. 

You moved off the road when you got to the driveway leading to your refuge. You hadn’t even worked through what you would say or do about what happened. There was no lie you could tell that would excuse your appearance or even your mental state right now. How you could explain what happened to you without them flipping out? 

It was only getting colder as the wind seemed to pick up now that you were getting closer to the marsh. You wrapped my arms around your waist, hugging yourself for warmth, relieved to see the Chateau come into view. 

Pope’s voice called out your name once you rounded the corner of the house and stepped into the backyard. You looked up from the muddy drive to see him and the other pogues rising from their places around a small fire. Relief washed through you and a fresh set of tears sprung up now that you were finally safe. You had made it before he had a chance to find you. 

“Oh my god,” Sarah rose from John B’s lap. Her eyes were wide. 

You looked nothing like you had earlier tonight. The beautiful summer dress that Sarah had helped you pick out was ruined. Mud caked on the hem, blood staining near the rips of the fabric where he had dug into your skin trying to hold you down. The skirt was hanging half off torn near your hip and the top half was slightly torn displaying the white lace bra you had on that was now also stained with mud and blood. You had fallen in your attempts to get away from him. The sod of the golf course was unforgiving in a rainstorm.

It happened in a blur, hands touching you. A warm palm cradled the side of your ace as brown eyes stared back at you. 

“What happened?” Sarah asks. Her tone full of worry. “What did he do?” She pleaded as you stared at the fire in the distance. Warmth. 

You press past her nearing the fire. You hiss from the harsh burn of the fire's warmth seeping into your cold and raw skin. 

“Hey, hey,” JJ comes closer as the others all stared wide-eyed. His touch is gentle as he guides your chin to look at him. “What happened?”

“We got in an argument,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. Your voice cracked as you tried to explain. “He.. h-he… Ummm.” You shift, wrapping your arms tighter. Pope comes closer, but you shake your head pulling away from him. “I just need a minute,” you be, stepping too close to the fire oblivious to how easily your skirt could catch. Your focus instead was on not being touched too much. 

“Okay,” he reassures you taking a step back, his hands lifted. JJ removes his hand from your face and takes a small step back. 

“What do you need Baby?” JJ asks, his voice gentle, full of caution.

“We need to get you checked out,” Kiara speaks up. You don't look at her and she says your name, her voice shaking. “Can we call someone? An ambulance? The police?”

“No police,” You hear yourself respond, a sharp edge to your voice, while clinching your hands into fists so hard your nails pierce the skin of your palms. “No police.”

“Okay, no police,” JJ says. He reaches for you again, but you turn your face away.

John B shifts in your peripheral vision. His hands lifted in caution as well. “Did Rafe do this?”

You could hear the venom in his voice and see JJ’s jaw tick as he grows angry at the realization. Your heart clenches at the mention of his name. You sob harder as your legs weaken and you collapse into the dirt.

“Okay, that’s enough for now,” Pope comments moving closer but you flinch away. Your fingers dig into the dirt at your knees as you try to focus on breathing and not having another panic attack.  

“She needs an ambulance!” Kie cries. 

“No!” You shake your head. “He’s a kook, no consequences.”

“She’s right,” JJ spoke, his voice laced with so much anger. 

Pope cleared his throat, lowering his hands. “Can we carry you inside? We need to see your injuries if we can’t call an ambulance.”

“I’m okay,” you respond, your body sagging with exhaustion. “I’ll be fine right here.”

“No, you won’t,” Kie says, her voice broken as she cries behind you. “Please let us call someone or get you inside.” She gets closer, her hands on your back. You shake your head, but don’t push her touch away and she takes it as a cue. “Sarah, help me!”

Sarah moves quickly to wrap her arm across your back and they lift you to your feet. 

“Someone get the door,” Sarah says as she stares at you, gauging if you are being pushed too far. Pope races ahead of you all. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” JJ seethes behind you, but you don’t hear anything else as the door closes behind you and they usher you to the bathroom. You are lowered onto the toilet lid while Kiara digs in John B’s medicine cabinet and sink storage for a first aid kit. 

“How does a shower sound?” Sarah asks crouching at your feet. “It’ll help get you warm and cleaned up a little.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your hand grasping hers tightly. “Okay.”

She nods and straightens up and turns the shower on blast, the water set to hot. In moments it’s steaming as she turns to grab a towel from the linen closet. She glances at the open bathroom door to see Pope pacing in the hall. “Pope, can you give us some privacy?”

“Sure thing,” he says, scrubbing his hand through his hair with one last look at you and you see the panic and worry clashing inside of him. You knew Pope and you knew he wanted to do the correct thing and call 911, but he wouldn’t, not with you telling him no. 

“She’ll need a change of clothes,” Kie says rising with the kit in hand along with rubbing alcohol and a stack of cotton pads. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“I’ve got some,” JJ replies, he hesitates at the bathroom door. His blue eyes are glued to you and you can see the war in him raging. He wanted to break Rafe’s face, but just like Pope he wouldn’t because you didn’t want him to. You give him a reassuring nod and he goes quickly into his room you hear drawers opening and closing.

“Okay, come on,” Sarah’s voice is careful and it makes your heart ache more with her being so gentle as she helps you stand and unzips the dress. It falls to the floor and she looks away, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“Dammit,” JJ’s heartbreaking voice says from the door and you look at him as your chin trembles and tears flood your vision. He winces taking it all in before looking away. 

“It’s okay, go,” you hear yourself say and he nods, hanging his head before going to the living room. “I can do the rest,” you say to Sarah, your voice shaking, but your determination to keep some shred of dignity surfacing. She nods and goes with her hand pressed to her mouth to muffle any sounds. 

She shuts the door and you take a look in the mirror and grip the counter to steady yourself at the sight before you. Mud and blood were caked in your hair, your makeup smudged all over your face, and bright red scratches down your throat and chest and on your thighs. Your underwear barely hanging on and an open wound on your ribs. Your lip was busted, a black eye was already showing, a blood trail down from your temple dried to your skin, and a bruising handprint around your neck and collarbone. Your wrists and forearms also bruising with handprints. You look down at your legs cataloging bruises and scratches in various places. Both hips were already bruising from him forcing and holding onto the hard ground and a round dark bruise on your stomach had already formed where he had punched and kicked you.

You turn away and unbuckle your bra before stepping into the shower. You let the hot water sear your skin as the water turns brown at your feet. You use JJ’s body wash and shampoo to get cleaned, hissing when your wounds sting from the suds and the water. The familiar smell bringing you some comfort. 

After the shower, you step out of the bathroom clutching the towel. JJ lifts his head. He had been crying. He sits with his elbows braced on his knees, his hands folded under his chin. Sarah and Kie both come out of the kitchen with John B and Pope hot on their heels. 

“Clothes?” You ask, clutching the towel tighter. 

“On my bed,” JJ gets to his feet and starts to come closer, but you take a step back and see a neatly folded pile on his bed. You go in and shut the door before pulling on the clothes. The gym shorts and the sweatshirt belonged to JJ, but the sports bra you were sure belonged to Kie. You keep the sweatshirt off knowing someone will need to patch up the open wounds. Everyone stares at you when you emerge from JJ’s room. 

“Can I help you?” Sarah asks, the first aid kit in her hand. You nod once, sinking into the empty sofa. JJ clenches his hands into fists as he takes stock of every mark or bruise now that the mud and blood were washed off. She moves closer kneeling on the floor before working on you. You try to muffle any sounds of pain with the deeper wounds as she cleans them with rubbing alcohol. After she finishes patching you she touches the bruises checking for severe damage that would need medical attention. You flinch and dig your nails into the sofa as she presses against the bruise on your stomach. 

“Should we call the cops?” Pope asks.

You shake your hand, hands gripping Sarah’s wrists. “No!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she whispers. “No cops.”

“Rafe needs to be in jail!” Kiara responds, but you shake your head. You knew how this worked.

“No,” you repeat, your tone final. 

“He won’t. He’s a kook.” JJ gets up and starts to pace after agreeing with you. You let go of Sarah and she resumes her work. Once she’s finished you wince as you pull the sweatshirt on before pulling your messy wet hair out from the collar. 

“Do you have a brush?” You ask looking at John B. He nods going and grabbing it from his room. He returns, but Kie takes it and moves closer. She sits on the back of the couch behind you and slowly beings to brush out your hair. Kiara finishes brushing your hair. Her arms fold around you as she cries squeezing you back into her. You pat her hand and nod, tears gathering in your own eyes again. She lets go and gets up to give the brush back to John B before sitting on the counter near the others. Her brown eyes watching you as she tries to get her emotions under control. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself as you settle into a quiet moment.

“I got you,” JJ says before going into his room. He comes back with a blanket and places it around you to cocoon you in warmth. He starts to move away, but you grasp his hand. He tips his head in question, but another tug lets him know. “Okay,” he whispers before sinking into the sofa next to you, pulling you into his side. His arm wraps over you as you rest curled up into his side. Your legs pulled under the blanket as well with only your head visible.

“Here.” Pope approaches carefully with a water bottle. “You need to drink water.” JJ takes it before removing the cap and handing it to you once you stick your hand out. You take it and sip, appreciating the hydration.

“Thank you, Pope,” you murmur handing the bottle back to JJ. He takes it and screws the lid on before looping his arm back around you. 

“John B,” you say and his head snaps to you. Sarah sat on his lap and they were in their own bubble. You could tell Rafe’s actions had taken a toll on Sarah too. He was her big brother after all. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? My family is in NYC for a few days.”

“Stay as long as you like Cupcake.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, an attempt of a smile at your favored nickname, and you snuggle back into JJ’s side. You peek up at him and he is watching you. Worry creased his forehead. “Are you staying?”

He nods once before leaning down. His lips pressed to your forehead. “I go anywhere you go right now.”

“Thank you.”

“We are all staying,” Kie says, adjusting her spot on the counter. “We are stronger in numbers and if Rafe comes looking for you I would rather us all be here.”

Everyone verbally agrees with her. 

“Thanks, guys,” you smile weakly. “I’m sorry-”

“Nope,” JJ cuts you off. His head shaking. “Don’t you dare apologize for that asshole!”

— — — —

The next day you wake up to see JJ awake, but still lying next to you. You had fallen asleep on his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. His arms wrapped around you as you both shared the blanket. His fingers are gentle as they skim across your back eliciting goosebumps. 

“Sleep okay?” He asks. 

You bob your head yes, before putting your head back down and listening to his heartbeat. He sighs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before looking at the others as everyone seems to stir at once.

“Did you?” You finally ask. 

“I did,” he confirms tightening his arms around you. His fingers now playing with your semi-curly hair after it dried in your sleep.

“Can you take me home?”

He pauses all movements and you lift my head to look at him. “You aren’t going home alone Baby.”

You frown. “I need clothes JJ. And I need a moment to grasp the situation without five pairs of eyes on me.”

He frowns staring at you. You could see the argument rolling through his mind. He didn’t want you out of his sight and if the roles had been reversed you would do the same. 

“Please,” you beg. “Just a few hours and then I come back here. I don’t have my phone, my wallet, or even my house keys on me. You know my mom's one rule.”

“I do,” he huffs before squeezing you tighter again. “I just want you safe.”

“I am. I’m the safest I could be right now.”

He smiles, blushing a little. “Fine. I have to help JB anyways. So four hours, that’s all you get.”

“Deal.”

(Part 2)

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Pumpkins, Mist And Zombrits

Mist curls around their ankles like tentacles and Dean, cursing loudly, stumbles and falls as they run across the pumpkin patch. As usual, monsters are at their heels. Dean rolls onto his back, roughly aims his sawed-off shotgun and blasts a load of rock salt into the spirit-zombie-hybrid that’s already reaching for him. 

“Bite me!” he shouts, watching the monster disintegrate into grey splatter and smoke.

“Come on, Dean!” Sam grabs him and hauls him to his feet. “There’s too many! Run!”

His little brother is right. Clots of muddy soil are dropping off him as Dean finds his feet and starts running again. He quickly turns his head and sees at least a dozen more creatures chasing them, and fast. They may have the undead look of the Walking Dead, but they’re gliding, their bodies not quite solid and flickering in the moonlight. Unearthly, rotten sounds come from their mouths, and the stench… 

Dean grips his shotgun tight and picks up the pace, Sam beside him. They force their way through the layer of mist, skirt around roots and vines, jump over pumpkins. It’s a goddamn parkour, with added jump scares when one of the “Zombrits” (Dean will be proud of this word creation later) suddenly re-materializes before them.

Just like one of them is doing now, six feet in front of Sam.

“Sammy!”

Dean’s warning cry isn’t necessary. Sam is ready, foregoing the handgun in his right hand for the machete in his left. Never slowing down, he swings it at the monster and lops its head straight off, jumping over its crumbling corpse as it drops.

A moan, too close for comfort, has Dean jerk around and, no kidding, those fuckers reek. One eye dangling from its socket, this one is particularly fugly, catching up on Dean’s unguarded left side, already almost upon him. Dean uses his left forearm to steady the shotgun. Its boom echoes through the October night. The creature’s head explodes.

To his right, Dean hears Sam yelp and drop out of his vision. 

Fuck!

Dean stops and pivots.

Sam is on the ground, on his belly, a tattered Zombrit clawing at his back. Fabric tears, possibly skin. Sam cries out.

“Get off him!” Dean slams the butt end of his shotgun into the creature’s face. Its head snaps back, decayed vertebrae pulverizing, skull caved in. 

Home run.

But there’s no time for triumph. And no time to look at Sam’s injuries. There’s blood soaking through the rips in Sam’s shirt, but they’ll have to wait, and they obviously can; Sam’s already struggling upright while Dean covers his back, pumping more rock salt into another set of Zombrits. 

“You okay, Sammy?”

“I’m good, let’s go!”

They make it to the edge of the pumpkin patch, more or less in one piece, not counting the sprained ankle Dean will hobble around with for the next few days or the three deep grooves in Sam’s back they’ll hold together with steri-strips. 

They make it to the edge, breathless, muddy, and with burning lungs, and, to their surprise and relief, the monsters stop short where pumpkin patch meets gravel road. Some spell, some crazy rule keeps them from crossing over and, really, the Winchester brothers are due a little luck.

Safe in the Impala, Dean gives his little brother a quick once-over, pats him on the back (where he's not bleeding) and grins, relief and adrenaline making him slightly manic. He ruffles Sam’s hair.

“Happy Halloween, little brother!”

Leaning forward, away from the seat, Sam grimaces. “Jerk.”

Dean smirks and, rolling down the window, flips the bird at the pouting Zombrits in the pumpkin patch. He revs up the engine of the Impala, and they roll off into the night, Blue Öyster Cult blasting from the radio.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

For the ask game: What is “Uptown Girl” about?

here x have a snippet x

(I have no idea when this will be posted, probably not for a long time but think The Notebook meets 10 Things I Hate About You)

With a sigh, Emily pasted a smile onto her face, hoisted her bag higher on her shoulders, and started the long walk to the table.

And hit the deck.

“What the fuck?” She cursed, as her books spilled across the floor, and her ankle twinged with pain; she had caught it on a chair as she tried to squeeze past a table. The chair's occupant had shoved it backwards, unaware of Emily’s presence. The combination resulted in a twisted ankle and overwhelming embarrassment as all eyes in the cafeteria turned to look at her.

Glancing up at the top table, she saw concern written across Cat’s face and, behind her, Derek, standing up and looking at her, sitting on the floor. Neither of them made a move to help her, being too far across the room.

“I’m so sorry-” A voice she didn't recognise said, large hands gripping her upper arms, “Can you stand?”

“I can stand,” She hissed, tugging her arm out of the unfamiliar grip, and casting a cursory glance over her shoulder, seeing only his back as he bent over to collect her fallen schoolwork, “Can you see? Because you should really check before you just shove your chair back like that.”

“Yeah, sorry,” He repeated, turning to hand her things to her as she got, painfully, to her feet. Emily looked down at her ankle, swirling it in a slightly painful circle. After a brief assessment, she determined that there was no real damage done, it was just twisted, not sprained. She might limp for a day, but it would be fine tomorrow, nothing more than a twinge. She grimaced, imagining Cat's qhen she told her she wouldn't be able to go to try outs. Not that she needed to try out, as deputy Head Cheerleader. Her anger was seeping away, but her embarrassment was stubbornly sticking around.

“Don’t worry about it,” She brushed it off, reaching for the bag as her eyes flit up to his face. “Are you new?”

From a cursory glance, Emily could tell they didn’t run in the same circles. Emily existed in a circle separate from most of the students, a circle they all knew about and longed to be a part of, so, often, people knew her name and she didn’t know theirs. Unlike Cat, who basked in her sudo-fame, it embarrassed Emily, so usually she pretended like she knew the people who spoke to her, even when she couldn’t have picked them out of a line up. But this boy, she would have remembered him.

His jeans were ripped, and not fashionably. They were too long, and too big on the waist, and his trainers, also ripped, had torn holes in the hem at the heel. They frayed, dirt that would never come out in a wash trodden into the fabric, turning the once blue strands a muddy beige. He had belted the jeans around his narrow hips, but still they hung loose, and had tucked in a t-shirt that had probably been black once, but had been washed so many times that it was now a faded almost-grey, over which he wore checked shirt, open, that was also a little big. He had no bag that she could see.

“Yeah, I’m new.” Was all that he said, eyes so dark they were almost black meeting hers for only the briefest of moments, before he glanced up towards the top table through hair that fell into his eyes. “I won’t keep you from the court,” He said, a hint of bitterness in his tone, “See you around, milady.”

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

attraction |  hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

masterlist  |  tag list

Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. “Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own. 

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that. 

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.” 

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...” 

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!” 

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!” 

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life. 

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.” 

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair. 

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face. 

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever. 

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * * 

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[pascalpanic]

At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment. 

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin. 

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you. 

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly. 

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud. 

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods. 

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him. 

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss. 

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours. 

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side. 

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

-

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin. 

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more. 

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise. 

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string. 

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

-

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[twsted-and-tangled]

— tears of salt, drops of red

[♛] Pairing: Yandere Vil Schoenheit x Reader

[♛] Summary: When walking late one winter night, you have a close encounter with death. Unfortunately, it’s not your only one.

Warnings: contains slight mentions of blood, gore and character death. Read at your own risk. This is my first time posting so comments are appreciated. Also, can anybody tell me how to add a read more page divider on mobile?

“What did you think you were doing?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen Vil look anything but perfect and it shocks you more than you’d care to admit. His neat clothes are torn in various places, blood and muddy water staining the expensive fabric, destroying it beyond repair. A frigid gust of wind blows snowflakes into your faces and you shiver, not only from the biting cold but from icy menace that radiates from Vil. You carefully step past the limp furry bodies and bright crimson splotches that litter the snow and stop a few feet in front of the vampire. For a moment you both stare at each other.

“I’m sorry.” You say softly, barely a whisper above the howling breeze.

Vil snaps.

“Sorry? Sorry? Did you really think a worthless apology would fix anything?”

He stalks forwards and wraps a hand around your wrist, yanking you into his chest. You yelp as his nails dig into your skin but don’t try to resist. You know your mistake and how lucky you are to be alive. Few people are able to survive a wolf attack in the middle of winter. You’ve seen what remains of those poor souls— nothing more than a few scraps of cloth and bone fragments, surrounded by pools of red. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And tonight, you’d nearly met the same unfortunate fate.

“If I had been even a second later, the wolves would’ve ripped your leg off!” Vil practically snarls, sharp teeth bared and glinting in the moonlight. His arms lock you in their embrace, meshing your bodies together so tightly that your chest begins to hurt. Fingers tangle into your hair and tug hard enough that tears well up in your eyes.

You refuse to let them fall.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Your voice cracks slightly, the terror and adrenaline fueling your sudden anger. “You think I wanted to be mauled and eaten alive by wild animals?”

“If you were thinking at all, you wouldn’t have gone into the forest this late at night! Were you planning on freezing to death as well in these?” He pinches at the thin material of your outfit and displays it in the air mockingly. You jerk your shirt downwards, no longer feeling the chill. Hot fury and embarrassment warms your cheeks, your heart pounding a furious beat against your ribs.

“Maybe I was! Maybe dying in the dark would be more tolerable than living with you!”

The howling wind stills and your words echo loudly in the sudden silence. Shit. Your mouth snaps shut and you fall quiet. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh but it was too late to take back what you said.

Vil freezes, his body stiffening up.

“Would you care to repeat that?” He sounds deceptively calm but his tightening grip proves otherwise. “You claim to prefer death to being with me?”

Oh god, he’s going to kill me.

You gasp for air as he slowly squeezes you, bones aching under his iron hold. You can barely breathe, let alone speak but Vil doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes stare blankly into the starless sky and suddenly, he tips his head back— and laughs. It’s a hollow, dark sound, void of any real humor or mirth. You shiver again, this time struggling harder to get free, but to no avail.

“Fine. If death is what you choose then who am I to deny you?”

His fingers tug at your hair once more, and keep pulling until the tender skin of your neck is exposed. You realize his intentions too late. In an instant, he sinks his fangs into your flesh and begins to drain your blood at a horrifically fast pace. The pain nearly brings you to your knees.

“Don’t... stop stop stop! Vil please, don’t do this. I didn’t mean it, please please stop!” You beg, clawing at his hands and pushing at his face. Vil bats away your feeble attempts and only bites down harder. Numbness replaces the searing agony and soon, you’re swaying around, barely conscious. Vil’s firm hold on your waist was the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground. You almost wish he would let go.

Sometime later—maybe hours, maybe minutes, maybe even seconds— Vil unlatches his jaws from your throat. Your sight is blurry and dotted with black but you can still see the red liquid smeared across his mouth. It drips onto the white snow, joining the other bloodstains seeping into the earth.

You distantly wonder if it was better to be eaten by wolves. At least then people would know what became of you. Those who were torn apart by starving beasts didn’t seem so unfortunate anymore in comparison.

As your eyes drift shut, something wet presses against your lips and you gag. The taste of metal and rotting flowers imprints itself onto your tongue as Vil kisses you roughly, allowing his blood to enter your body and transform you into one of his kind. If you didn’t want to be with him in life, than you would spend an eternal death by his side.

“Now nothing will ever separate us.” Vil murmurs, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear, a complete contrast to his earlier actions. “We will never be parted, my dear. Whether it be life or death, we’ll be together always.”

He brushes one last kiss against your cheek before draping your weak frame over his arms and lifting you up. Salty droplets prick at your eyes as your body is carried off into the shadowy trees. You try to stay conscious as long as you can, knowing that when you wake up again, you will no longer be human. No longer be alive or dead. No longer be anything except an immortal monster forever doomed to wander the night.

This time you let the tears fall.

[uvobreakmylegs]

On Golden Wings

Anonymous requested a Kurapika x reader story where Kurapika has a mythical element.

Kurapika is technically a seraph in this, but I added some elements of a griffin because I thought it was fun and Kurapika is extra so it fits

(sorry about the bad title it was the best I could come up with)

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, threats of torture, implied death

Feathers.

Everywhere you looked, you could find golden-brown feathers strewn about the city. In the streets, sticking out of bushes, stuck within whatever cracks they could find or drifting across the pavement as the wind pushed them along. Even some children would pick them up and use them as accessories.

When they first began to appear people had noticed them quickly – they were hardly small, some that you had seen were longer than the entire length of your hand. Questions about them came just as fast, on where they had come from and what kind of bird this was, to be losing so many feathers at such a seemingly rapid pace. The local zoo and bird sanctuary claimed to know nothing, and no one of the upper class within the city admitted to having some sort of exotic pet that had escaped. And if all of those parties were telling the truth, it only meant that it was wild. And once again taking in the size, it was extremely likely that it was a bird of prey.

The fears began then. That there was a monster bird stalking the city, ready to maim and kill whatever it came across. Despite the fact that there was no evidence of any actual danger, once those ideas were planted fear was quick to make the majority of the public lose their minds. For a few weeks, at least. Once enough time had passed and there were no reports of anyone turning up dead, the public's sights shifted to a new fear to worry over, and the feathers that covered the city were accepted as a new norm with only a small handful of people still trying to find the feathers' origins.

You fell within the former category, content to accept that the feathers were there to stay and since it wasn't actually affecting anyone negatively, it wasn't anything to worry about. The feathers could get annoying, yes, but it was a nuisance that was easily taken care of so you could get on with your day.

Whether it was just an abnormally large bird or something that fell under the category of a magical beast, you had no desire to kick that particular hornet's nest just to sate your own curiosity. There were things in this world that were beyond your comprehension. You were happy to accept that fact and content to continue living your life not worrying about such things.

The feathers stayed, and you continued as normal.

Or at least, you would have had it not been for a chance encounter one night.

It was a late Sunday evening when your work shift finally ended. It had been a hectic, exhausting day as usual and you wanted nothing more than to return home and pass out on your bed.

The walk back towards your apartment was quiet, with virtually no one else on the street and only a few cars passing you by every once in a while. Though you usually did your best to keep yourself calm, there was always a part of your brain that worried about being out alone so late at night. Women getting snatched up and murdered was something you frequently saw in the murder documentaries you occasionally watched, and as much as you told yourself that it could never happen, it didn't hurt to keep your guard up, subtly glancing around the area every so often to make sure no would-be murderer was following you.

Checking around again, you sighed to yourself when you confirmed that there was in fact no one tailing you. Adjusting the grip you held on the paper bag holding the donut you'd grabbed before you left your work, you told yourself that at least there was no one there to see you acting like a paranoid idiot.

But even you were caught off-guard when you heard a commotion coming from the alleyway a few feet ahead of you, followed by a stray cat who ran out and down the street at full speed. You stood still for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything else would come out. Nothing did, but you could hear movement from within the alley. Along with.... Breathing? It was most likely a person, then, and who knew what they were doing in there.

Common sense told you that you should probably go to the other side of the street before going past the alley, or maybe even to turn around and find an alternate route home. As much as an inconvenience it was, you would have done just that had you not seen the flurry of feathers that came rushing out of the alley, followed by what sounded like the flapping of wings.

…. That didn't seem normal. Granted, none of this seemed very normal, but the sounds and things you saw coming from that alley were decidedly strange.

Maybe the thing that's been leaving those feathers was in there.

The thought popped into your head, and once it had, you had a hard time getting your legs to take you away from the area.

You didn't care what sort of creature was hanging around the city. That was what you had told yourself. So why were you slowly moving forward, straining your neck to try and get a glance at whatever was in that alley? You didn't care, and you weren't going to actually do anything with that information.

But just getting a quick glance at it wouldn't hurt, right?

You took a few small steps forward, and finally, you could see into that alley.

A young blonde man, most likely in his early twenties and wearing all white, stood before you, a hand holding a trash bin lid as he was very obviously rooting through the garbage. But those things weren't even what was most significant about him.

It was the four large wings that protruded from his back.

Even as he held them tightly to himself, the wings still brushed against the walls and ground of the alley, the natural grime of the ally dirtying the golden-brown feathers. There was also a tail that swayed from side to side, resembling that of a lion and of a similar color to that of the wings. And to top it off, you noticed that on his bare feet and his hands were long sharpened nails. Or perhaps they were claws. Either way they looked deadly, and you inhaled sharply when you noticed him freeze.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder to glare at you with sharp gray eyes.

The two of you stood there for some time, neither of you taking your eyes off of the other even when he turned to face you fully, tossing the metal lid to the ground with a clatter. His chest puffed up and his wings extended as he stood at his full height. It was a show of force, you realized. He saw you as a threat and was trying to scare you away by intimidating you.

Common sense was back, telling you that you had gotten what you had come for and that you should retreat while he still gave you the chance. He hadn't attacked you, so it was safe to assume he would leave you alone if you left now.

But even as you thought that, another look over his figure made you reconsider. His white clothes were muddied, covered in dirt and what looked like blood. The fabric was ripped in several places as well, the wounds that were beneath partially visible. On a closer inspection, his wings weren't faring much better: there were several spaces that were empty where feathers were clearly supposed to be, and quite a few of the ones that remained looked scruffy and unkempt. Like he had gotten into a fight with something and had lost. Then there was the fact that you had caught him literally digging through the trash. Taking another glance at the trash bin, you saw the remnants of rotting food sitting at the top.

He must be hungry.

The man continued to glare at you, and then tensed when you held out the paper bag that you had been holding.

“Do you want this?” you asked, offering it to him.

His eyes narrowed further, and he looked at the bag and then back to you.

“What is it?” he asked.

Relieved that he could understand you, you answered “a donut. Food.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to hold the bag out to him, his guard not letting down in the slightest. He was clearly trying to assess if you were plotting something and if this was some sort of trap. You tried not to be offended. You had never heard of people with wings before, but if you had, you were certain that the general public would have treated them as being some sort of magical beast to be gawked at or hunted. Based off of his actions, he must have good reason not to trust you, and you couldn't blame him for that.

“Toss it over to me,” he finally said.

You did as he told you, throwing the bag over which he caught with one hand.

He carefully opened the top, peering inside while his figure relaxed slightly. Once he had determined that there was nothing wrong with the bag, he tentatively reached inside to grab what would have been your late-night snack, letting the bag fall to the ground as he inspected the donut, turning it over and sniffing at it. It was the first time you had seen someone give such an accusatory look towards a simple donut.

He looked back at you briefly before taking a small bite, carefully chewing before he swallowed. You saw the tension in him dissipate further, and he took a few more bites as he leaned back against the alley wall, satisfied that you hadn't done anything to tamper with the food. He would periodically glance over at you as you smiled to yourself, happy that he seemed to like it.

“Can I come closer?” you asked.

He paused in between bites, once again looking you over.

“.... Not too close,” he finally answered.

Delighted, you took a few steps forward, stopping when he ordered you to stop with a swish of his tail.

“You're a strange one,” he commented as he continued to eat, “why did you do this?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to help.”

“But why?”

“You were hungry.”

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer as his eyes narrowed at you once again, but he chose to continue eating instead of questioning you further. Within moments, the donut was gone, and he was licking the last remnants of it off of his fingers.

“That was hardly filling,” he said, “but your kindness is appreciated.”

Lifting off of the wall, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped, glancing back at you.

“What is it?”

“Can I help you with anything else? Is there anything you need?”

“What else could I need from you?”

“Maybe some bandages? You're hurt, aren't you?” you pressed.

One of his hands instinctively went to his stomach that had one of the many wounds on his body, covering it as he bit his lip. He turned away and began to walk again.

“If I decide that I require your assistance again, I will come to you,” he called out, “but do not count on such a thing happening.”

“... Okay,” you answered, feeling a bit dejected.

“Could you at least tell me your name?”

He ignored your question as he reached the other end of the alley, his wings spreading out and lifting him up with such a force that the backdraft he created caused the paper bag on the ground to fly up and hit you squarely in the face.

Despite what he had said you saw him the next day, peering at you through the thick foliage of a local park. He vanished the instant the two of you made eye contact, his golden head popping back down beneath the leaves.

He must have been confident that he would get your attention and not alert anyone else that was around, you mused.

Or he was just that desperate.

Taking it as an invitation, you made your way into the the thick bit of forest within the park, quickly coming upon a small clearing where he stood, arms crossed as he waited for you.

“Am I right in thinking that you wanted to see me?” you asked, grinning as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, sighing, “I'm trusting that you didn't tell anybody about our meeting last night?”

“Who would I even tell? No one would believe me.”

“And you intend on keeping my existence a secret?”

“Again, no one would buy it.”

“Very well,” he responded. His gaze shifted to the ground next to him in an almost bashful way.

“Is that offer to help still on the table?”

He couldn't look at you, and he was clearly embarrassed that he needed to ask.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

“I have nothing of value, and will not be able to compensate you in any way. Is that still acceptable?”

“I don't care about anything like that. Just tell me what you need,” you insisted.

“As long as you're certain,” he said, his wings lowering in defeat as he let out another small sigh.

“You were correct last night; bandages would be very useful. It's also been a while since I had a proper meal, so if you could bring me some more food, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just that for now.”

Nodding at him, you hurried out of the park and to the nearest grocery store. One quick trip later and you had returned, holding a bag full of bandages, medical supplies and food that you hoped he would like.

He hummed as he looked through it, picking out the bandages and ripping the packaging open. He glanced over to you a few times as he did so, looking more embarrassed every time he looked away.

“... Do you want me to leave?” you asked.

“If that is alright with you,” he mumbled, “I don't wish to be rude after you've done me a favor, but the majority of my interactions with your kind have been largely.... Unpleasant. I would feel more comfortable if-”

“It's alright. I get it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief.

You made your way to the 'entrance' of the clearing, then stopped.

“Can I ask you one thing, though?”

He looked nervous again, but nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked, smiling at him.

“..... Kurapika.”

“So what do you normally eat?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

“Before I came here I largely ate the animals that I could hunt down,” Kurapika answered, “but the majority of the animals in this city are domesticated, and I couldn't bring myself to hunt any of them.”

“Why?”

He glanced away, a slight pout on his face.

“Just thinking about killing someone's pet for food made me feel badly, even if I was desperate enough for that.”

Kurapika sat across from you in the clearing, taking bites out of the lunch you had brought him for the day. He had forbidden you from visiting him more than once per day, in the event that your behavior would stick out as being suspicious to anyone that was trying to hunt him. So you went once every day under the guise of eating lunch in the park, secretly taking him a big meal that could get him through until the next day.

You wanted to ask about his life before he had become a fugitive, but you knew that would only cut your visit short. Any question that was even vaguely related to where he had come from and how he had ended up in this situation would result in him clamming up. It was clearly something that still caused him immense amounts of pain, and you didn't want to add to it. So you did your best to steer your conversations to more mundane subjects that you hoped wouldn't upset him. It had taken a lot of effort and convincing him that you were on his side and that all you wanted was to help him, and you didn't want to ruin that by asking intrusive questions.

His wings were in slightly better shape (after he reluctantly allowed you to help him clean them) though a lot of them were still growing back in.

“How long did you say your molting period lasts again?”

“About two months,” said Kurapika, “I believe it's been a little over a month since I started, so it should be over soon. Then I'll be able to leave this area.”

“Do you think the people who hurt you will follow after?”

“Most likely. But when my molting has ended they won't have a trail of my feathers to hunt me down again,” he said.

“I really do have to thank you,” he continued, “you helping me like this means I don't need to go out and risk getting caught.”

“Happy to help,” you said, grinning.

“I think I'll be sad when you leave, though.”

“I can't remain here,” he said, finishing up the last of his meal.

“I know. But I'll miss being able to talk to you. I really like you.”

Kurapika paused, looking over you carefully before snapping his head away, another blush on his face.

“We barely know each other. Ridiculous.”

You just smiled in response.

Although he stopped mentioning it out loud, he was continually perplexed by your willingness to help him. There were many times during your visits with him that he would watch you carefully, or even watch the woods that surrounded the two of you as if anticipating an ambush. While he trusted you enough at this point to believe that you had no intentions of harming him, he didn't trust that you wouldn't be followed, and he emphasized to be on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious.

You weren't sure what exactly counted as suspicious until you happened across the two magic beast hunters.

Walking by a crowded plaza, it seemed quieter than was expected. Everyone there was speaking in hushed whispers and seemed nervous about something. The air around the plaza made you pause, and you looked around the area to see what exactly was causing people to behave in this way.

Then you saw the hunters, armed to the teeth with an array of gnarly looking weapons accosting some old man. One of them was tall with a stocky build, looking smug while his partner, a smaller scruffy-looking man with far more knives than was reasonable did the talking. You frequently saw the old man make an attempt to leave but the hunters wouldn't let him, the bigger one going as far as to grab him by the shoulder to keep him in place while the other continued to speak to him, waving one of Kurapika's feathers in his face.

Oh shit.

You wanted to just run out of there and get away from them as fast as you could, but that would have gotten their attention. It would be less suspicious if you followed the example of the others you saw in the plaza and quietly left. Surely they wouldn't notice you among the dozens of others hoping to leave without attracting their attention.

It was easier to breathe when you had made it to the side streets, and when you saw Kurapika that day you told him everything. When you had described them to him, his hand went back to the healing wound on his stomach.

“Those were the ones who attacked me. You're certain they didn't see you?” he asked.

“I'm sure of it. There were too many other people around for them to have noticed me.”

“Alright. But if you ever see them again, don't come that day. Right now I'm still too weak to fight them, so if they found me it'd be over.”

You nodded. He wasn't back to 100% yet, but he had been doing much better since you had begun to help him. Even so, you didn't want to let him go without food for a day, but it was better that he go hungry for a bit instead of being captured.

There was a tense air that stayed over the next few days, and you noticed a change in Kurapika. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and you asked if he hadn't been sleeping well. Instead of actually answering your question he told you not to worry about it.

That only made you worry more.

This particular day you had asked him if he was doing okay, and he said that he was fine, brushing away your concerns, his annoyance evident.

But not five minutes later he fell over.

Directly onto you.

It was almost panic-inducing when it happened, and the first thought that went through your mind was that he had literally dropped dead. But after a moment you could see that he was still breathing. Given the dark circles that were under his eyes, Kurapika seemed to have passed out due to sheer exhaustion.

'You can't stay with him. You have work in an hour,' you thought to yourself.

So why were you adjusting him so his head could rest comfortably on your lap?

He'd probably be mad at you if you stayed with him while he was completely vulnerable. If there was one thing you learned during your time with him, he hated to appear to be weak in front of others.

But the thought of just leaving him passed out on the forest floor left a bad taste in your mouth.

After a few minutes, you called your work to say that you were sick and couldn't come in. As expected, your manager was upset and berated you over the phone. At least that call only lasted a few minutes. The money you would lose today would hurt a little bit, especially with all of the spending you'd been doing on Kurapika, but when you looked back down at his sleeping form, you were confident that you'd made the right choice.

Kurapika slept soundly on your lap, his wings and tail twitching from time to time. You laid a hand on his head, slowly stroking his blonde hair. Your touch was light, and yet you heard him let out a soft sigh and saw his body relax further. How long had it been since he had received a kind touch from anyone? Likely just as long as the last time anyone had shown him any kindness. Your thoughts went again to the questions he wouldn't answer: what had happened to his friends and family? How had he ended up like this?

You thought of those questions, and yet you could make a pretty good guess as to the answers. He had been alone on the streets digging through the trash for food, covered in wounds and dirt, carrying no money and being chased by hunters. If his life was in danger like that, then it was clear that his loved ones weren't alive anymore.

Time passed, and the sun dipped lower into the sky while Kurapika continued to sleep. You let him stay as he was, even when it was becoming uncomfortable for you as your legs began to fall asleep.

There wasn't a lot you could do for him, and while it hurt to admit it, what you were able to do for him wouldn't be much in the long run. But even if it helped in even the slightest, you wanted to do whatever you could.

It was nearing evening when he finally stirred, his wings fluttering slightly as he blearily opened his eyes. He seemed to take a little bit to fully awaken and realize the situation, his eyes widening in surprise and looking up at you.

You were expecting him to become upset. To shoot up and ask what you were doing, or to just turn away from you and tell you to leave.

But instead he stayed as he was, head on your lap as he continued to look up at you.

The silence was becoming awkward for you, and you cleared your throat before explaining “sorry. You fell asleep and, uh, I didn't feel good just leaving you.”

He stared at you, unblinking.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” Kurapika finally said.

“You just fell over,” you explained, laughing a bit as you continued, “fell over right onto me, actually.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah! No, I'm fine.”

“That's good,” he said.

Kurapika pushed himself up, switching to a sitting position in front of you. He glanced about the clearing and noted how late it was.

“Isn't it too late for you to be here? Didn't you have work?” he asked.

“It's fine. I called in.”

“Won't that be an issue?”

“Ah, well. My coworkers won't be happy with me, and I'll probably get bullied a bit by the manager tomorrow,” you explained, but you tried to change your tune when you noticed how his face fell.

“It's fine, though! It's not the end of the world because I called in one day of work.”

He didn't look convinced, but he seemed to concede as he sighed at you (just how often had he sighed at you at this point?).

“Shouldn't you head back to your home? In case someone goes there to check up on you?”

“There isn't going to be anybody coming to check on me,” you assured him.

“You should still head back; you've been out here too long,” he insisted.

“Okay. But, uh,” you began, scratching the back of your head, “could I wait a little bit? My legs are still asleep.”

“That's fine.”

The both of you stayed where you were, sitting in the clearing while you waited for the feeling to return to your legs and feet. Kurapika was still staring at you, a thoughtful look on his face. Just as you had been surprised earlier that he hadn't immediately retreated from you when he'd woken up, it was unusual that he stayed this close to you. He hadn't made any move to back away. It was a stark contrast to how things had been when you had first met.

“You don't have to keep an eye on me, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just mean, you don't have to wait on me until I leave. If you've got other things to do, you don't have to keep your attention on me. As soon as my legs feel better I'll be out of here.”

You weren't sure what other things he might need to do without you there, but you didn't want to assume that there was nothing. With the way he was staring at you, it felt as though you were inconveniencing him in some way.

“It's fine,” he said. You hummed an affirmative, and the silence fell back over you.

When you felt like you were able to safely walk again, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

… This was new. Kurapika had never talked about anyone other than the beast hunters that were trying to track him down.

“In what way?” you asked.

“Going out of your way to look out for me. Taking care of me, even at your own expense,” he added wistfully. There was a distant look in his eyes as he appeared to recall his memories of this person.

“Were they.... Like you?” you asked, unsure if that was the best way to phrase the question.

“Yes. His name was Pairo, and he was part of our clan,” said Kurapika, “he died with the rest of them when a group of murderers found our home.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I can't imagine what you've been through.”

He hummed noncommittally, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Are they the one who're chasing you?” you asked.

Kurapika let out a harsh breath that resembled a laugh.

“If they were I wouldn't be talking to you,” he said, “they didn't seem to care that one of us happened to not be there. At this point, I wonder if they even remember about my people and what they did to them. No, the ones who are after me are petty bottom-feeders. Apparently they want to sell me off as being an exotic pet.”

“They're... Hunting you for that? But then why did they hurt you?” you asked, looking at his bandaged wounds.

“Doesn't seem like they're that good at taking something alive. I suppose I'm lucky that they're not trying to kill me,” he scoffed, “if I'm having such trouble with rabble like them, it's only a testament to how weak I really am, and how much stronger I'll need to become if I want revenge for Pairo and the others.”

You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't respond. There was nothing you could say to offer him any sort of comfort, and any sort of encouragement or guarantees that things would be fine would be insulting.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

He didn't answer you.

You stood up on slightly shaking legs, giving him a short goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow. He nodded in response.

The next day he was gone.

The clearing was virtually empty with no signs that he had been there other than the feathers that you had grown so accustomed to. It was the first time since you started this that he was gone when you went to visit, and your first thought was that he needed to leave to take care of something....... In the middle of the day. While trying to lay low.

Yeah, maybe not.

Your next assumption was that he had been discovered and taken away. But surely there would be some evidence of a struggle, right? And there was nothing that indicated that Kurapika had left unwillingly. Then the next thought was that he had found a new hiding place. Maybe those hunters had come a bit too close for his liking and he felt like he needed to find someplace safer, and he just didn't have a way to find you and tell you where it was yet.

That last scenario somehow seemed less likely than the other two, and you were forced to reconcile with the idea that he had left.

It wasn't too unexpected. He'd been getting better, and his molting was almost finished so he'd be able to fly about safely.

You had just hoped that he would've told you so you could have given him a proper farewell.

Maybe what had happened the day before had upset him more than you had realized. That hadn't been your intention, but who knew what it had looked like to him.

But he had opened up to you a bit more, hadn't he?

It was confusing and you didn't understand, but the longer you stood in that empty clearing, you accepted that he was gone, and your chances of seeing him again were likely nothing.

You tried to be happy for him. It was a good thing that he was able to finally leave the area. Hopefully he could get to someplace safer, maybe not need to worry about those people hunting him down, or at least get far enough away that they would have a hard time finding him again.

But even then, you couldn't help but feel sad that he really was gone.

You set the bag of food meant to be his lunch in the middle, just in case he did come back and needed something. It seemed unlikely, but you felt better leaving it for him. As you weaved back through the trees that surrounded the space, you picked up one of his errant feathers that had been caught in a branch, running your fingers over it. A small memento; something to remember him by. It was the most you could ask for, and you told yourself to be happy that you were able to help the way you did.

With you being so caught up in these thoughts, you didn't notice one of the hunters from earlier standing at the edge of the park, or the way he watched you as you left.

It was another Sunday night after work: your feet hurt from standing too much, your back and arms hurt from the overwork, and if you needed to hear one more complaint from an entitled customer you'd probably stab your own ears just to get away from those shrill voices. The one consolation you had was that you weren't working the closing shift and didn't need to worry about taking care of customers while simultaneously trying to close up for the night. Once the end of your shift came around, all you needed to do was run to the break room, gather your things and escape.

One day you'd get a better job, you told yourself. Something that you actually enjoyed and wouldn't cause you ungodly amounts of stress. You just needed to figure out what that could be.

Your thoughts went back to Kurapika as you walked the familiar path back to your home. It wasn't all that long that he had been around, really, and yet the idea of not seeing him again felt strange to you.

You pulled out the feather that you stowed away in your bag, looking it over again. With how busy you had been throughout your shift, you had managed to take your thoughts away from him, but now that things were more quiet, he was all you could think about.

It wasn't too late yet, with some people walking along the same walkway as you, but that didn't stop the car that suddenly pulled up next to you.

Or the man who opened the door and pulled you inside.

The amount of force he had used to grab you almost broke your arm, and all you could do was scream as you were shoved against the seat as the man who had grabbed you yelled at the other to drive while he shut the door behind you, keeping his forearm on your throat to the point that you could hardly breathe.

A knife in your face and him yelling at you to “shut the fuck up” made you silent, and your fingers latched onto the seat beneath you, your nails tearing holes into the worn fabric.

The car sped along, almost hitting several other vehicles and pedestrians in the process. Doing your best to calm down, you realized that the men who had grabbed you were the hunters you had been avoiding; the bigger one in the driver's seat while the smaller one waved one of his knives around, nicking your face a few times when the car lurched him from side to side.

It finally stopped on an empty embankment by a river. The water that rushed through the canal was almost black and it was impossible to see to the bottom.

'They're going to kill me,' you thought. 'They're going to kill me and then dump my body in the water.'

Your heart was beating in your ears when the smaller hunter began speaking.

“Let's make this quick, okay? A lotta people saw our little stunt and the police'll probably be here soon,” he said.

“We really need to know where that bird boy went. Tell us everything you know, and you'll be able to get home safely. If not-”

He grabbed one of your hands and held it up to your face.

“- I'm gonna to cut off your fingers one by one 'til you talk, and then they'll need to fish your body out of the river when we're done with you. If you're smart, you'll pick the first option.”

You sat there in shock as this man spoke so matter-of-factly about brutally torturing and murdering you while the man behind him sat there grinning.

There was a lump in your throat, and you couldn't make any sort of sound.

“Listen you stupid bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer, “I'm not gonna lose any sleep over killing you. His life is valuable; yours isn't. So tell me where the fuck he is or-”

You spat in his face. There was barely any saliva with how dry your mouth was, but you managed it.

One of his blood veins popped and his lip quivered.

“That was the worst thing you coulda done, you stupid little bitch.”

He barked at the other man to come back and hold you down while his hand went back to your throat, mercilessly choking you to keep you in place. The other man was already stepping out of the car, and with what little you could see, you could tell he seemed excited about the prospect of torturing you.

You tried to pull the knife man's hand off of your throat as he waited for his partner to walk around the car.

And he waited.

And waited.

Black spots were beginning to appear at the edge of your vision when he finally loosened his grip, leaning forward over you to look for his partner through the car windows.

A loud crash from the front of the car startled you both. His hand left your throat completely, and while he turned his gaze to the front, you lurched to the side, desperately grabbing at the door handle.

He noticed your escape attempt with a sharp cry, and you felt something slice down your back as you opened the door and stumbled out.

There weren't any thoughts running through your head as you ran; you were going off of a pure primal instinct and a desire to get out of there and survive.

Noises sounded from behind you: the sound of something flapping and a scream. But you could barely acknowledge them, your eyes only focused on the lights on the road next to the embankment.

You could feel blood running down your back as you ran but you didn't stop. Even when you had put several blocks between you and that car you didn't stop. You needed to get to safety, and that could only be found with other people.

A figure dropped down from the sky in front of you and you ran right into them. They wrapped their arms around you and you screamed, bashing your fists against their chest while you struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Calm down,” a familiar voice said.

You stopped, slowly looking back up to see who was holding you.

In your adrenaline-fueled haze, you managed to not notice the wings the person hand.

“Kurapika-!”

You sobbed into his chest, your hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt while he soothed you. His hand ran down your back and you winced, the skin still tender from where you had been slashed.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“Th-those two-!”

“I took care of them. Now hold onto me.”

Kurapika picked you up bridal-style, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted off the ground as his wings pulled him up, and within moments you were in the sky, miles above the buildings that littered the ground. The air was chillier up here, and as he flew, the wind stung your back-wound, making you bury your face into his neck.

You could vaguely make out him apologizing to you, and something about promising to fix you up. The wind made it hard to hear it, though.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he touched down on top of a large building, carefully lowering you to the ground while continuing to hold you, his wings folding over you to barricade you from the wind.

He ran his hand down your back, careful to avoid the cut while you took in huge gulps of air as you tried to calm down.

Half an hour passed before you could properly form a sentence. You pulled away from him slightly, your tears mostly dry now. There were a lot of questions running around in your mind, and you didn't know where to start.

“I thought you left,” you whispered.

“I did. But I got a bad feeling, so I came back. I'm so glad I did,” he said, a hand trailing down your cheek, “it would have been devastating if I found out that those two had killed you.”

For the first time, you noticed that his hands were covered in blood, but you didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I- thank you.”

He didn't say anything for some time, and the two of you sat there on that roof. There was still pain coming from you back and you were about to ask that he take you somewhere to get that fixed when he spoke.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I can't stay here, and therefore I can't be around to protect you,” he explained, “if those men told anyone else about you, your life is still in danger.

“I was wrong when I left you like that, because for the first time in a long time, I finally have someone who I can't bare to lose. It'll be hard, but I want to rebuild my clan together with you. Once I get my revenge, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So please, say you'll come with me.”

Kurapika held you tightly against him, his tail wrapping around your ankle.

“Please, let me have this little bit of selfishness,” he breathed.

“..... Okay.”

He tilted your head up to meet your lips in a kiss, and you found yourself pushing up into it, closing your eyes while his wings remained caged around you.

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

a sapphire for your heart, part IV

Morning found you wide awake and restless. Your bedding was a mess on the floor and you were lying on the fresh straw which filled your bed. Nausea threatened to spill with every little movement you made; nausea from lack of sleep, and from overthinking. But with a bit of effort you managed to push yourself to sit and wash down the bile with a jug full of lemon water.

The day was promising. It seemed a lot of passers-by had stopped by the docks to bring news or tend to various local business, and many curious young men and women were flocking around Reda’s tend of exotic wonders. You made a careful selection of your own items and brought them outside for the visitors to see and admire, and eventually purchase. Saxon women were especially interested in your variety of colorful fabrics; bright teal, gold, and crimson shawls which powerfully contrasted their otherwise somber outfits. But it was your natural charms that convinced reluctant men to buy expensive gifts for their wives and daughters, and by noon you nearly sold out everything you’ve selected for that day.

All, but one.

It was an emerald green, pure silk scarf, beautifully ornate with golden threads and precious garnet beads. You were offered a hefty sum for it, but you declined with a smile and neatly packed it in your bag.

There were several locals and guests in the longhouse, chatting and enjoying the first course of their supper. Among them, you spotted a beautiful Viking with bright auburn hair and a jug of mead in her large hand. She was accompanied by several friends whom she chatted and laughed with; perhaps it was not the best of times to speak with her. But before you could take your leave, a dark-haired woman waved her arm and asked you to join them at their table. Randvi turned her head to look and when she saw you, she smiled the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Your heart raced like a hummingbird, sending little thrills of excitement through every cell of your being.

God… you were bewitched.

“You must be Sapphire! I’m Petra, it’s nice to meet you.”

The woman who beckoned you grinned as she made room for you to sit next to her, and right across from Randvi. You fiercely battled to keep your emotions hidden, to appear collected as you spoke with the people who would accompany you the next day in your treasure hunt. You’d be a group of five, with Petra helping you explore paths safe from dangerous wild predators, and the other three were warriors meant to protect you. A small, but capable group. You drank in their names, clashed jugs with them, and with Randvi, and promised a good journey tomorrow. However, there was a troubling feeling gnawing at your thoughts – the fact that she wouldn’t be there with you.

Soon, the longhouse was full of people dancing and singing, and enjoying the pleasant company of one another as they feasted. In the overwhelming loudness of cheering and music, you excused yourself and went outside to get a breath of fresh air. The night was crisp, sobering you up and lessening the ache at your temples.

“Were we too much for you?”

Your heart jumped at the sound of a beautiful familiar voice caressing your ears. When you looked back, Randvi was standing right behind you on the wooden porch. The light from within cast a glow upon her tall, godly silhouette, making her appear holy. You tightened the hold on your bag, momentarily deciding to postpone gifting her the shawl.

“Not at all. It was the smoke, it stung my eyes.” You answered with a smile.

She slowly closed the distance between you, and with a kind palm at the small of your back she encouraged you to walk with her further away from the longhouse. It was a simple, ghostly touch which lasted a moment, and yet it set your heart ablaze.

How cruel fate must’ve been to plant the seed of desire so deep into your core, only to watch you twist and struggle against the shackles of sapphic love. The way Randvi seemed to glow beneath the pallid moonlight was enthralling; the whole blanket of shimmering stars reflected in her deep cobalt eyes.

“How do you like Ravensthorpe so far?”

She asked.

You glanced at her briefly; beside the lingering smell of smoke in the longhouse and her anguished cries in the night, everything was perfect! But you wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“It’s lovely. I’ve never been to a Viking settlement before. Your architecture and clothing designs are breathtaking.”

“Clothing designs?” She echoed, slightly amused; perhaps it was the mead.

“Yes. The fabrics you use, the intricate patterns and choice of color… the carvings in your shields and weapons. It’s beautiful.” You confessed with a smile. The way you spoke of her traditional wear made Randvi’s mirth dissolve into surprise.

There was a knot in your throat and your chest felt heavy, as if you were about to spill all the thoughts and feelings you’ve been silently enduring since the day you’ve been acquainted with her. The sound of the river reminded you of her pained, secret cries; you wanted to ask why. Yet all you could do was stand very still as you slowly lost yourself in the depth of her intense, beckoning gaze.

“What else do you like?” She inquired as she shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her large arms over her bosom. Her authoritative pose caught you off guard – heavens, she was a force you could not resist. Your gaze lingered on her dazzling eyes, and then slowly followed the trail of her sharp cheekbones and perfect jaw, all the way to her full lips.

“Your spirit.” You answered. “How your people fight – courageous, almost reckless, unified and strong. There’s something about you…”

Randvi’s interest slowly seemed to grow as she listened. You locked your eyes with hers again, and this time you couldn’t look away. It was beyond sinful to have certain thoughts about a married woman, and yet her allure was stripping you of all reason. If Sigurd was there, he’d probably raise a fist against you, and you’d be crazy enough to challenge him.

“I want you to join us tomorrow.”

Suddenly, you spoke.

“On the hunt you mean? I’m afraid I cannot. There is work I must tend to, here.” Randvi declined, albeit she was pleasantly surprised.

“Whatever work you have cannot be more important than such a great find – I want you to be there, to see the gold for yourself.” You felt as if you found a small grip on her will, and you weren’t about to let go. Something burned deep within you; a flame which would consume you whole if Randvi would refuse you again. Thankfully, she promised she’d consider it.

Delighted, you turned your head to hide a smile in the crook of your shoulder. All of a sudden, tomorrow seemed like decades away.

The graceful Viking walked you to each and every house of Ravensthorpe, introducing you to their current stores and notable landscapes to admire. The abundance of colorful flowers and their sweet smell was intoxicating, lulling you closer to Mother Nature’s chest. There was a soft bed of moss right beside the pool at the base of a waterfall, and that’s where you sat down to tell each other stories.

“Norway's mountains are quite treacherous. It snows heavily most of the year, and unless you’re an experienced tracker, you’d surely find your demise in those steep valleys.”

She spoke with a smile as she fondly remembered her homeland. You were intrigued, absorbing every word and watching her attentively as you learned about the Aurora Borealis and the myths of Odin and Freya, and ragnarok. How fiercely Asgard battled against Jotunheim, and how humans eventually outlived both gods and Jotuns. It was easy to picture these fables coming to life when Randvi told them in such refined detail and with so much confidence. There must’ve been a grain of truth to her words.

“Ymir's tear… I would die for that stone. I’ve heard stories of that gem scattered all over Asgard.” You sighed as you leaned back to stretch over that soft moss and gaze up at the night sky, in awe. You felt those precious blue eyes on you, yet you didn’t dare look, fearful that you’d lose yourself in them all over again.

“Sapphire is a very beautiful name.” She spoke, and you smiled.

“That’s not my birth name…” You confessed.

“Oh?...”

“When I was six years of age, I had this… feeling, as if I knew something was beneath my feet, pulsing, calling me.” You begun your tale and Randvi lowered herself on her side, watching you.

“I had this uncontrollable urge to dig, to see what lured me in and never let me sleep. I broke four of mother’s spoons trying to tear apart the dry, hard soil.” A brief laugh escaped you as you reminisced.

“At last, my older brother stole a shovel from the neighbor one night, and by morning we dug a hole thrice our size. The neighbor was furious, and mother was about to smack us when she saw what we did to our yard.

But then… beneath the damp, muddy floor of the cavern we dug, I felt it again. That urge, that call; I ripped the soil apart with my bare hands, and out I pulled a little satchel. Inside it were two sapphires. I can see them now… shimmering in the light of dawn… they felt sharp and cold, and fit perfectly into my hands, as if they were made for me.” You bit back a smile as you turned your head and saw Randvi, in all of her beauteous glory, propped on her elbow and watching you in awe. Her eyes were just like the sapphires you fell in love with.

“And then?...” She asked with vivid curiosity.

“Mother sold them to buy a farm. And when I was nine summers old, a cart with two travelers stopped by and took me. They promised mother silver, and that I’d be returned by fall with a bag full of precious stones. But… when we returned… We found the farm abandoned, burnt to the ground.”

Randvi’s gaze seemed to soften with sorrow, yet your grin never faltered as you shook your head.

“I kept on traveling, I saw the world. They called me Sapphire ever since, and I forgot my birth name as the years went by… The world, Randvi… it’s so beautiful…” You pushed yourself to sit, drawing closer as you whispered to her.

“Come with me in the morning, let us explore and travel together...”

Her auburn lashes fluttered, as if she was awoken from a trance. She took a moment to think, to find her words or collect herself; but when she turned to meet your gaze again, she answered with a nod.

“I will. I wish to see you dig for gemstones, to see your blessed hands pull treasures free from the earth.”

Your chest swelled with joy, and all at once you were buzzing with excitement.  

-          To be continued…

*part V.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

I'll Be Seeing You (T.H. oneshot)

“I’ll find you in the morning sun / and when the night is new / I’ll be looking at the moon / but I’ll be seeing you.” - Billie Holiday

Masterlist | Taglist | Ko-fi

summary: in a dark time, you get a second chance at a last goodbye. Or a new beginning.

warnings: established relationship, mention of horror, mention of death, some angst, hurt/comfort, and loving fluff!

notes: wrote this thing in like 3 hours bc I just needed to get it out; I hope it makes sense lol. This is my entry to @hollandsrecs’s 1k fic bingo, enjoy!

***

The creature is just out of sight, but you don’t need to look to see how ghastly it is. Its long black hair hangs matted around its head, on its shoulders so thin and pale, its bones are almost visible. Its dress is but a faded memory of opulence of time long forgotten; it’s now just muddy scraps of fabric clinging to a figure that’s also faded. From memory. From itself.

You want to scream. But every time you open your mouth, no sound would come out. Like you’d put a cork on a wine bottle. And it feels like the harder you try, the louder the creature croaks behind you. So close, as if it’s breathing down your neck. And the more you try to run, the more your steps get heavier. Like you’re walking on quicksand. Surrounded by dim sconces and red walls and haunting portraits from past centuries that are watching you. Quiet spectators while you fight for your life.

No.

You won’t have it.

With everything you have left, you drag yourself towards the double doors at the end of the hallway. Pulling yourself forward even as its icy fingers ghost over your shoulder. Pushing through the door like it’s the finish line. Stumbling into the room only to be taken aback by your surroundings, not realizing the door clicks to a close and the horrifying creature is no longer after you.

Light.

Natural light as the sun streams from the window of each horse stable. The walls and stalls are warm with polished wood. Everything is empty, save for the one at the end, a handsome black thoroughbred horse. And with him…

Your love.

Your life.

He looks as dashing and delightful as ever. Brushing the shiny mane of the horse and stroking the side of its face in quiet content. Wearing his favorite Christmas sweater– that silly brown, patterned thing he’d had for ages. His cheeks and nose slightly reddened from the cold.

You’ve committed this very image to memory, you’re sure of it. But seeing it with your own eyes, you realize your memory can never serve it enough justice. You miss him terribly so still. The ache in your chest rips apart into sobs and you have to blink the tears away just so you can see him clearly again. You don’t know how long this would last.

“Tom…?”

He turns to you and smiles softly. “Sweetheart.” he walks over to you slowly, wiping his hands on his trousers, as if he’s walking on a literal thin ice.

“Hey.”

“Had a good walk?”

You nod your head, not trusting your own voice this time. You’d just had a fight that day– something about the wedding guests and seating charts and what-have-you. It was stupid, but it was big enough to turn into a shouting match and you storming off.

God, stupid you were, indeed.

“Listen, about what happened–” he starts, but you cut him off by grabbing his hand. Oh, how warm they feel in yours. How… right.

“Tom.” you take a good look at him, and the tears fall again. “I’m sorry we fought.”

“I know, sweetheart. Me, too.” he reassures you, calm as ever, not the slightest bit shaken by how fragile you are, like a recording playback. But he pulls you into his arms and you push it to the back of your mind. You just want to melt into his warm embrace. Feeling his living, beating heart against your chest.

“You were right,” you echo what you’d said to him.

“What does it matter who’s right?” he brushes off. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We always do.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Then, he cups your face with both hands and says, “Now, why don’t we go out someplace tonight? We’ll have dinner and drinks and dancing…” he trails off, his tone tender and playful once more.

Your heart sinks; you’re nearing the end. But you find yourself nodding anyway.

“I’m gonna clean up, okay? And then we can go.”

He begins to let you go, and you begin to panic. As soon as he walks out the door, he is going to collapse and his heart would just… stop. You know it. You’ve lived it, and you have no idea why you’re living it all over again like a cruel, broken machine. And you thought, maybe if you stop him, stall him, maybe that fateful event would miss him somehow.

“Wait.” you catch his wrist, holding it like your life depended on it. “Don’t go.”

“What’s wrong?” his eyebrows furrow, puzzled and unknowing.

And what can you tell him? “I just… I want to take a good look at you.”

“You’ll have a lifetime to see this old face.”

Your composure, your resolve crumbles and you’re crying and crying while he holds you. Pressing his forehead against yours. Ever so patiently stroking your hair with the softest look in his face.

You want to tell him you’ve had that lifetime. It’s over and it ended here. But you don’t know if saying that would fix things or make it even worse. And you don’t want to ruin this. This isn’t perfect, but it’ll have to be. You have a second chance at being with the love of your life for the last time. What more do you need?

“It’s time to wake up, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“What?”

He closes the distance between your lips and plants you the most beautiful kiss you’ve ever had. You’ll ever have. If this is how you die, then you’d be the happiest woman to have ever lived. And then…

He lets go. He steps back, one foot after the other, and all you can do is watch. He doesn’t keep his eyes off of you for a second until he reaches the door. You vaguely remember the creature that chased you into this place, but the white light that peers through when the door opens tells you that wouldn’t be an issue. You follow his silhouette, dark against bright, until it shuts in your face.

Leaving the room darker. Emptier. Quieter. Colder. Lonelier.

“Cut. Perfect. That’s a wrap today, everyone! Great job!”

You take deep breaths as you hear the indistinct applause and the humdrum of a film set; the distant chatters and engine buzzes and noises. You take in your surroundings; the crew chattering about and shutting off lights and carrying heavy tools. It feels grounding. Familiar. Like home.

But then the door bursts open and Tom– your Tom this time, not Tom the character in the movie- rushes toward you and tackles you into a rib-crushing hug. You hold each other there for the longest time, shoulders shaking in laughter. In relief.

“You were fucking amazing. I love you so much,” he murmurs into your shoulder.

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull back immediately. “Wait, what?”

His eyes are red-rimmed with tears and he sniffles, as if embarrassed that he’d been crying, too. “Yeah. I really do.”

A smile blooms on the corners of your mouth, the kind that lights up your whole face, and you wipe away the tears from his, infecting him with the same smile. “I love you, too.”

Things with Tom happened unexpectedly, but inevitably. It’s a painstakingly intimate story and sparks have flown since the first reading. But you’re both young and increasingly famous and you don’t want to garner any unwanted attention– not from the crew, not from the fans, so you keep it on the downlow.

But it’s the end of a very long day and nearing the end of a very challenging project, that you forget yourself for a split second.

So you kiss him on the lips– briefly, sweetly- and pull him into another hug.

The director, Sarah, soon comes over, complimenting both of your performances, giving you hugs, telling you to rest up on your day off tomorrow.

“Oh, by the way,” she calls you out just before you two leave, sporting a cheeky grin, “I always knew something was up between you two.”

“What do you mean?” Tom decides to play dumb, but she sees right through it.

Sarah laughs, but leans over to speak more quietly. “You still have your mics on when you said that, uh… little thing.”

You and Tom exchange looks, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, and peers over to see Cory, the sound guy, waving awkwardly on the corner of the room. He motions zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key behind his shoulder.

You throw your head back and groan. “Oh, shit.”

[hazbincalifornia]

Prey

Chapter 26: Hunting is fun, right?

Warnings: Mpreg, canon-typical violence.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Why are you wearing a coat?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow as he lowered his binoculars, and Blitzo growled from low in his throat, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Because I’m cold? Seems pretty obvious to me, Moxx.” His teeth chattering together like wind-up monkeys agreed.

“It’s seventy-five degrees out. I checked the weather here before we left to be sure it wasn’t raining, and I can feel it. It’s warm out here.”

“I said that I’m cold. Can’t a man know his own body?” Blitzo tugged the coat tighter around his middle- or at least, as much as he could. The bump had, infuriatingly, nearly outgrown the coat, but that was fine, because it was the one spot on him that wasn’t frozen like a tongue on a metal pole. It was practically boiling, actually, suctioning all the heat out of Blitzo’s body like a leech in a black hole and leaving all extremities shivering in a way reminiscent of poor street orphans. Millie reached over to snap off a square of the chocolate bar that Blitzo was holding, and her eyes widened as she brushed his fingers in the process.

“Aw, Moxxie, he’s right, he is cold! He’s-” She paused, concern gathering like storm clouds. “Really cold, actually. Are you sure you should-”

His fingers tightened around the gun in his free hand. “I’m not going home. I’m not letting this shit bench me, nothing has to change until I can shove the little cretin out and figure out what to do with them, got it?” Blitzo swatted at her hand, and she pulled back with her mouth screwed to the side and lips pursed.

“Hmmph. I’m just saying, I don’t really remember Mama or Daddy going through anything like this. I don’t think it’s a normal imp thing, is all, so you don’t know-”

“I know that if I sit at home with nothing to do, I am going to fucking lose it, so chill, alright?”

“Chill is the last thing you need, apparently,” Moxxie grumbled, and Blitzo smacked him with his tail, getting a little yelp out of the smaller imp before Millie stuck a hand over both of their mouths.

“C’mon,” she muttered, “We need to focus, they’re looking our way.”

Blitzo licked her palm, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got four siblings, Blitz, that stopped working on me when I was eight.” Her fingers dug into his cheeks before letting go and he huffed, shuffling on his haunches and stuffing the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth. Already, his stomach was growling again- stupid kid was being even more high-maintenance than usual. For that matter, more everything.

That morning, he’d woken up half-frozen to the bed with blood practically freezing under his skin, his stomach nearly a full inch bigger than it had been the night before with his skin itching like fuck because of it and stretchmarks creeping around the edges to boot. The binge last night must have all gone to plumping the little bastard up or something, because of course it had. (He could still feel where the kid had torn up, but it was manageable now with a handful of painkillers, at least.)

Fortunately, he had a coat in the back of his closet at work from when they’d gone to the arctic to knock off a scientist who’d stolen their target’s research, and he’d gotten it a size too big just in case he’d needed to hide one of the bulky weapons inside.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after the client meeting.

____

“So he just left me there after I checked his gun and it went off.” The client, a deer-form sinner, had raised an eyebrow, camo jacket rustling as he folded his arms with a twitch of his ear. “Hey, how come your little lackey’s in a suit but you aren’t? It’s all unprofessional and shit. You look like a marshmallow.”

Blitzo growled, tugging his (not stretchy enough) shirt down. The light pink fabric bounced back up anyway. Traitor.

“And you ended up in Hell. We all make bad choices sometimes. Just tell me where the fucking gig is, alright?”

____

Blitzo shook his head as the leaves rustled- he needed to focus. He could not become a liability, even though leaving the warmth of Hell for the more temperate heat of Earth chilled his bones better than any iced coffee ever could.

“Gimme the rundown, Moxx. How’s it looking?”

“There’s four of them around the fire. One woman, three men, all in camouflage clothing. All wearing hunting caps for some reason too, even though this weather’s far too warm for it for most humans, I would think. Perhaps it’s some kind of pack-bonding thing.” Moxxie adjusted the binoculars a bit. “The target is the short one with the red hair.”

“G-got it,” Blitzo said, rubbing his arms. If he any hair on them, it'd be standing up. Fire sounded good. Fire sounded really good. “When reddie breaks off from the bunch, we nab them. The client said he doesn’t care if the others get hurt in the process as long as we weren't charging extra for it, he wanted the party all back together anyway.”

“Right,” Millie said with a nod. “As soon as-”

“They’re all moving out at once,” Moxxie hissed, cutting her off. “They were talking but I couldn’t hear what, the target’s being left to guard the fire.”

“It’s almost too easy,” Blitzo said, twirling the gun in his hand and before splitting off and creeping through the underbrush, each footstep sinking slightly into the damp, muddy ground with a squelch as Moxxie hissed something after him that he couldn’t quite hear. The foliage was thick enough here that he lost sight of the fire for a moment, but the cozy, flickering warmth drew him like a snake to a flute, yellow sparks creating dancing shadows off the trees- but with no long shadows to reflect except for his own. “Wait, the hell did he go?” The firepit was still crackling merrily away, but the target had vanished. He raised an eyebrow, turning back to their hiding spot. “C’mon, where is he? You go blind in the last two minutes, Moxxie?”

“He was just here- he must have stepped out to go to the bathroom,” Moxxie whisper-hissed. “Be careful, they’re-”

“C’mon, Moxxie, I’m not an invalid.” Blitzo stuck his hand in the already-opened bag of marshmallows and stuffed one in his mouth. The pops and snarls of the fire were filling the aches of his bones with soothing jelly, and his legs wobbled a little as he swallowed down the gooey snack. “I’ll go find ‘em, just… just a second…”

“Sir…”

“Relax, it takes more than ten seconds to piss.” Blitzo reached for the marshmallows again, fingers already in the bag when-

“Blitz!” Millie called out just as pain exploded through the back of his hand, and a screech bubbled up from deep in his chest as he automatically smacked his other hand at his wrist, brain taking precious milliseconds to process whatever the fuck had just happened.

There was a knife. Impaled. On his hand. Black blood spurted out in waves over his skin and sleeve, and he yanked the fingers close to his body as shrieking erupted from the bushes.

“Ha! Thought I heard somethin’! Those horns are gonna look real pretty mounted on my wall!” Red hair fell over a tanned and freckled face, and Blitzo’s fingers twitched, nerves going haywire as his other hand fumbled for something, anything, he’d dropped the fucking gun when he’d grabbed at his wrist, fuck, shit- there! His fingers clasped a small bottle and he chucked it full force at the human. It shattered, foul-smelling yellow liquid splattering his face as he sputtered and spat. “What the fuck?” The human fumbled for his weapon to retaliate, but-

BLAM!

-That was going to be rather difficult, considering his head was now in about twenty pieces, several of which splattered Blitzo's face and slid down before he brushed them off, licking at his cheeks.

“Blitz!” Millie called, hurrying down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-”

“Put your h-hands up!”

Blitzo whirled around, automatically dropping into a hunched crouch with his non-injured arm wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as the other humans from the hunting party of doom scrambled back to the firepit. God, his hand hurt.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled in a lower timbre than he’d ever heard himself drop to, and the one in the front froze, leading the woman to shove her way upwards.

“You killed Todd!”

A bang and she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her chest before another shot went straight through her skull. A cawing crow took off from a nearby tree, rustling the leaves.

Fingers clasped his elbow, and he could smell mint- Moxxie’s mouthwash. “The target’s down, we need to-”

“I wanna rip them to pieces, they got me,” Blitzo growled.

“Millie and I can take care of- eep!” Another shot cracked off above their heads, and Moxxie dragged Blitzo to the side as a huge branch slammed down where they’d been. “You’re in no shape-“

“I’m fine!” Sweat poured down over Blitzo’s eyes, and- were there two of Moxxie all of a sudden? When did he get a twin? He didn't have a twin. Blitzo would have found that out by now.

“No, you aren’t! You’re risking all of us, call Loona so we can clean- gah!” Moxxie kicked at the air furiously as one of the remaining hunters lifted him up like a ragdoll and dragged him away, screaming all the while as he twisted and writhed in their grip. Blitzo saw red. His tail snapped like a whip as he leaped forward and bit furiously at the mound of protesting, shaking meat, and a sharp shock grazed the side of his chest before blood gushed from the human's throat as he tore the jugular out with his teeth. Inside, the kid kicked out, doing their best to distract him, but nothing was going to keep him from-

“Moxx! Blitzo!” The head cracked mere inches from his face as Millie slammed a knife into the neck and snapped the spinal cord, and a gurgling scream cut off before two pairs of hands hauled him back from the fresh corpse. He snapped his teeth, heels digging into the damp ground as he strained forward. He needed to dismember it, he needed to tear it to pieces, he needed to fucking destroy it-

“And stay down, you fucking bastards, don’t fucking touch them-“

“It’s- it’s fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Moxxie said, dragging Blitzo back by the arm. “He maybe bruised my arms at best.”

“They’re dead, Blitzo, we can go home.” Millie agreed, and their combined strength forced Blitzo to take a breath, falling limp.

“…So sloppy, the ones with guns didn’t even get a shot in.”

Moxxie sucked in a breath. “About that…” He pressed his fingers to the side of Blitzo’s pecs, and Blitzo groaned out a ‘fuck’.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it should be fine with some painkillers and a tourniquet,” Millie commented. “The hand is much worse.”

Being reminded of that sent a white-hot flare of pain scurrying up his nerves, and Blitzo hissed. “Riiiiight.”

Millie fired off a text, and by the time Blitzo turned around, the portal had opened in front of them. He took one step before nearly eating dirt, and Millie and Moxxie grasped him under the armpits and hauled him through, the office the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.

“What happened?” Loona asked, fingers tightening around the Grimoire.

“It went badly,” Moxxie grunted. “Get the first aid kit.”

Loona didn’t argue.

________________

Well, he was definitely on too many painkillers to be fully healthy for the kid at this point considering how much it took to be anywhere near effective on him, but he wasn’t bleeding out, his hand wasn’t screaming at him anymore, and his shirt had probably gotten ruined by all the stretching out even before his side started bleeding all over it, so…

Okay, yeah, fuck trying to spin it, this just plain sucked shit-flavored asshole. Millie finished tying off the bandage around his hand as he sat in his chair and Moxxie paced around his office.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Come-” Blitzo coughed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the chills were creeping back up everywhere the blood wasn’t still rushing to, and he couldn’t help but lean closer to Millie and her precious body heat. “-Come on, getting hurt in the field is just part of the job.”

“Yes, but you’re not thinking clearly anymore, and you’re risking-”

“I am so thinking clearly!” Setting aside the fact that if he blinked too much Moxxie duplicated himself again, but he wasn’t about to tell him that.

Moxxie continued as if he hadn’t spoken, rude little shit. “You’re risking yourself, both of us, and, yes, the baby!”

“Oh, and they’re the one that matters here.” Blitzo rolled his eyes, but Moxxie folded his arms, tail swaying like a pendulum and nails drumming on his bicep.

“I know that your feelings about this are mixed, but I would never forgive myself if you went out there and got both of you killed because you’re a stubborn jackass.”

“He’s right,” Millie added.

“Don’t you dare team up on me,” Blitzo snarled, lead settling in the pit of his stomach as Millie stood up, drying her hands off with the towel borrowed from the bathroom- they were going to have to replace that. It had been white with little galloping horses around the bottom, and they were all so covered in black now that you couldn’t even see them anymore. He knew from experience that imp blood never came out of white fabric no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“We will if we have to- I’d do the same for anybody,” Millie said, balling the towel up and dropping it on the desk. “You lasted a lot longer than most people would, but there’s no shame in taking some time off so you don’t end up killin’ the little one before they even get a chance to see the world.”

“What about me, huh? Don’t I get a say in this? This is my company!” He shoved himself off the chair, but Millie pushed him back down. Her hand burnt where it touched his chest.

“C’mon, Blitzo, you need to be resting- I care about you, alright? Both’a us do.”

“Oh, sure, that's why you're not letting me make my own decisions as a grown-ass man." He narrowed his eyes.

“If we didn’t, we’d just let you go out and get yourself killed by the next target who has a gun,” Moxxie retorted. “I’m not going to let you drag all of us down with you, and I’m not going to keep working out in the field with you if you’re going to be a liability!”

“Are you threatening to quit?” Blitzo tried to get up again, and again Millie pushed him back down- far easier than she should have been able to, but if it was the blood loss or the baby weight was anybody’s guess.

“Of course not- maybe? I don’t know!” Moxxie rubbed his forehead. “I just-”

Millie shifted over to him, squeezing his shoulders. “We get what you mean, honey.” She turned back to Blitzo. “I know you wanna always do your best and work hard for IMP, and I’ve got nothing but praise for that, but-”

“But nothing! I can do this, end of story!”

Millie raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps back towards him and poking Blitzo right where she’d just wrapped the gunshot wound, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whine. “Suuuuure you can.”

“If you insist on still coming to work, just-” Moxxie sucked in a breath. “Just take over Loona’s job. Maybe she can help us, but Millie and I handled things fine when you were gone, we can keep things running.”

“Like hell you can!” Icy hands squeezed at his chest as Millie patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Blitzo.”

He smacked her hand away. “Don’t tell me I’m useless, I don’t need your fucking pity-”

“But you do need us,” Millie replied. “We want to help, isn’t that enough? There’s only another month and a half or so until they’ll be here, after all. You've got a lot to get sorted, and it's the least we can do.”

Blitzo just stared with wide eyes as his knifed hand screamed with every minute twitch of the nerves and tendons within. Moxxie raised an eyebrow with his arms crossed, and Millie considered the towel on the desk before dropping it in the trash. It left behind little splatters of his blood on the polished oak as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck both of you.”

(Which meant, unfortunately, ‘you win for now’, and it was only because he was about to pass out in his chair.)

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Two

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Profanity, slight sexual themes, description of the beginning of an anxiety attack, Max puts his hands on you for a hot second but then you rip him a new one lmao. 

Chapter Summary: The Lord’s have a discussion while Max work’s from home and you meet the other half of D.C’s richest power-couple that you now work for. 

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @captainsamwlsn​ @zeldasayer​ @readsalot73​

Chapters: 1/2

The Lord manor was silent, as it always was. Even when Max and Valerie were home, it was still lifeless. 

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked into her bedroom, which was larger than most living rooms. The steady click-clack echoed throughout  the grandiose household and bounced right back to the source. Nothing else was heard; no laughter, no pitter-patter by the feet of excited pets or even children to see mommy come home. Not even the eagerly awaiting footsteps of her husband to welcome her back, take her bags, and ask her how her day went. 

Maxwell was never the type for such idiosyncrasies, and never would be. 

Cold, empty, fake.

A dollhouse meant for Barbie and Ken was more authentic. 

I guess that made them no more real than the toys themselves.

Well, that is if Barbie and Ken secretly hated each other and slept with other people on the side all throughout their relationship. Valerie didn’t know much about dolls. 

She set the plastic bag onto her bed and began unbuttoning her blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the ground before shimmying out of her jeans. 

Valerie Lord wearing something that isn’t designer? She picked up the sundress that had first caught her eye, pressing it to her chest and marveling at just how soft it felt. That’ll be the fucking day. 

She slid it on with ease, she couldn’t say that for half of her wardrobe. 

Dresses were made to hug her figure and accentuate her curves. Constricting, suffocating, so tight she could barely breathe and the flashing of cameras so bright, nothing was there to ground here, nobody was.  She couldn’t see it all was too-

Soft. Her fingers ran along the fabric, hips swaying slightly as she watched the long skirt flow with her movements. It hugged her chest like it was made just for her, but it didn’t suffocate her - not a choking grip on her lungs, but a gentle hand on her chest. Her hands drifted down to the pockets, where she slid them in and remembered the grin you had on your face when you told her. 

“It’s sort of my signature.” You boasted, chest puffed out like you just won a gold medal. Valerie couldn’t help but notice the shirt you had been wearing, a button up with covered in different colored squares, so tacky and loud she could feel the migraine building just from looking at you. 

She also couldn’t help but notice just how little buttons were actually used to close it. A wide expanse of your chest on display, smooth skin practically on show for her before stopping just above your belly button, the curves of your chest peeking through enough for her to wonder if you slipped, would you be completely exposed?

Valerie shook herself free from the thoughts of the ridiculous seamstress, with her ridiculous tattoos and that ridiculous nickname. ‘Stitches,’ give me fucking break. She scoffed, but then turned around to admire the dress from the back. You do good work though…

The idea was set in her mind, and Valerie Lord was as stubborn as they come. There was no turning back. Won’t be too bad, she reasoned with herself. I could count it as my charity work for the month. 

~

Maxwell sat in his office, nursing a glass of scotch while going over a contract sent over to him late that afternoon. He could’ve easily stayed late at work, it wouldn’t be the first time. Valerie wouldn’t have worried, or cared at all really. She slept in a separate bed, in a separate room on the other side of the house. 

She wasn’t his reason for coming home early. Christ, she wasn’t the reason he did anything. 

The true culprit was his secretary. 

Delilah Harris was a pretty young thing who must've thought that sleeping with the big man would get her a better job, better pay, or maybe a side job as his sugar baby. What she wanted exactly he wasn't too sure about, but if he had to deal with the pathetic woman cuddling up to him at his own company as if they were lovers moonlighting a secret affair? Oh, he was going to lose his shit. 

So he found himself  sitting at the mahogany desk in his office, glasses pushed up on his nose. Finally able to get work done without being distracted by some incompetent bimbo batting her eyes at him.

The door to his office creaked open. He didn’t bother looking up.

Spoke too goddamn soon. 

“I've commissioned a seamstress to make me a dress for the gala in September.” Valerie’s voice was always so matter of fact. So condescending, as if her flimsy shrink degree suddenly meant she was smarter than him, the one who actually made money. 

“I’ll be meeting with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds positively riveting, dear.” Max drawled, turning a page to read more of the agreements. He was only a quarter through the damn thing and he already knew half of these deals weren’t going to be made unless he was six feet fucking under. Somebody was definitely getting fired tomorrow.

“I’ll be a bit tied up at work. You know, since I actually have a job and all. But you go ahead and make sure to tell the sewing mice I said hello, Cinderelly.”

He heard his wife huff and put her foot down, Max didn't have to see her to know she had her arms crossed and a frown on her painted lips. Like she always did when she didn’t get her way, a petulant child with an endless temper tantrum. 

“She’ll be making a suit for you as well, darling.”

The glasses slipped down his nose as his head shot up. “Excuse me? If you didn’t notice I’m a little busy running-” He stopped in his rant to take in the flowing white dress she wore that came all the way down to her shins. “Well that’s a bit too ‘Little House on the Prairie’, don’t you think?”

She uncrossed her arms, hands coming down to the skirt to bunch it around in her fists and swish it side to side. “Well I like it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something just because you don’t like it.”

Max snorted and set his glasses on the table. “Well that much is true, given how much you know I loathe that laughable model, yet you still keep him around.” He feigned thought and looked off in the corner. “What’s his name? Randy?”

“Robert.” She corrected. “And how’s the secretary, still drooling at your feet like the little lap dog she is?”

“At least she gets on my lap.” His eyes roamed her figure in the dress with a hunger she hadn’t seen in God knows how long. “What are you wearing under that?”

Valerie grinned, her hands slowly slid up her legs, dragging the dress along with them. “Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her husband sighed, head falling into his hand but never letting his eyes leave her form. “You know I hate games Valerie.” His tone was even as he spoke but she could see the tension in his shoulders like a steel wire ready to snap.

“Well that’s not true at all.” The dress passed her knees and slid up the silky skin of her thighs. “I know for a fact that you love games.”

Her hands released the skirt, letting it fall back around her legs.

“But only when you win.” She turned on her heel, fabric swishing around her as she did. “Wednesday afternoon, Maxwell, don’t be late!” Valerie slammed his office door shut behind her, leaving her husband alone once more.

Maxwell sighed, long and loud, before he pushed his glasses upright on his face and returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. For the rest of the night he did all he could to push away the phantom image in his mind of his wife’s supple thighs gripped in his hands. 

~~

Max looked to the building his driver parked outside of with great disdain.

“Check again.”

The driver, Daniel, sighed and looked through the mirror to meet his employer’s eyes. “I have sir, three times already. This is the address that Mrs.Lord gave to me.”

The shop was tiny, the name “A Stitch In Time.” on a sign above the door. A series of little figurines, mugs, and warrior knic-knacks lined the multiple window sills. It was quaint, homey, and the type of place many feel like a friend rather than a customer. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Max stomped out of the car, shutting the door with so much vigor it shook slightly. 

“Wait here for me.”

“Of course sir.”

His first step onto the asphalt, was directly into a puddle of muddy water that splashed back against the end of his trousers. Even through the window he could hear Daniel cough to hide his laughter. 

Max peered through the windows, looking for a sight of anybody within the store before grabbing the door using only two fingers and walking inside. 

A small bell jingled against the door as his entrance, and a voice called out from the back of the store.

“I’ll be out in one moment!” A woman shouted, Max took the chance to look at the racks of clothing around him, picking up one particularly horrendous skirt with the tips of his pointer and forefinger with a frown. 

This was the place that Val chose? Maybe he should sign her up for rehab, because she’s got to be smoking something to think-

“Welcome to a Stitch in- oh shit.”

Max turned his head to see you standing at the back door, mouth slightly agape. He took in your cheap jeans, your gold chain resting against your chest, a large expanse of skin left sinful on display due to the especially gaudy shirt you wore only being buttoned by the button three. Untamed curls framed your face like a halo as you stand shocked by the man before you.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumbled, your eyes raked over his blonde hair all the way to his designer shoes. “That lady was actually for real.”

“That Lady, being my wife I presume?” 

Max's voice, though annoyed, was rich and smooth and shook you out of your stupor.

“That she is. She came in on Monday and briefly spoke about..a commission?”

“Yes.” He continued to walk around the store, looking at everything with a sour face, even you. “Why she did I’m not so sure.”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and Max Lord was already proving to be worse than his wife.

“Is this place up to health code?”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and it was confirmed that Max lord was definitely worse than his wife.

He waved a dismissive hand in the air before he stopped browsing judging your store. 

“But what baby wants, baby gets.” He drew a hand to his heart in what could only be described as a sarcastic display of fake love.“Happy wife happy life and all that bullshit, right?”

You knew from the get-go that Maxwell Lord the Fourth was a load of shit. The moment you saw his dazzling smile in his commercials you knew that in real life he was probably like every other rich person in the world. Entitled, classist, and so judgmental they’d reject a glass of water in the Sahara if they knew it was tap.

You weren’t sure if it was satisfying or disheartening to know you were right. 

Nonetheless, a job is a job and you’d having to be fucking insane to reject a giant payout like the Lord’s would no doubt offer. 

But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Timeline?”

Max blinked. Usually people who thank him for the oh so amazing chance to work for him, but you stood your ground. He tilted his head to the side, looking at you with  a new inkling of respect. 

“Four months.”

“Event?”

“The museum of Natural History is throwing a gala for it’s donors.” He adjusted his cuffs as he spoke to you, only looking at you in brief glances which pissed you off even more. “I’m the top one.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Of course you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how charitable of you.”

The animosity of his glare dissolved into a smirk. “Of course.”

You stuffed your hands into our pockets so he wouldn’t see how tightly they were balled up into fists. 

Think of the money, dumbass. You reminded yourself. Stomach the rich people bullshit for a little bit for a huge payout. You've got this.

“I’ll be able to do it, but it may be a time crunch.” His face fell once more. 

“This is a job, honey.” He spoke slowly and moved his hands with each word as if you didn't understand what he was saying. 

“I expect it to be done to the best of your abilities, whatever pisspoor standard that may be.”

Well, you thought before you marched forward until you were nearly nose to nose with the billionaire. You lasted this long, that’s reward enough. 

“Listen here you glorified trust fund baby, I work hard and I work well. But keep in mind I have a multitude of people coming through that door every damn day that I also do work for. So don’t think that just because you and your trophy wife have matching silver spoons wedged up your-”

Max’s left hand lashed out and clamped over your mouth, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your cheeks. If you weren’t so fucking pissed that this mother fucker had the audacity to put his hand on you like that, you may have taken a moment to marvel at just how soft they felt against your skin. 

You reared back, blood roaring in your ears before you finally found your voice. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind if you think you can put your hands on me like that and not expect me to shove my foot up your-”

While you yelled, Max fished a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to you with a condescending smile. “Will that suffice?”

His manner, so calm and collective while you were about to wring his neck made you pause. 

“Will what suffice?”

He sighed, wiggling the slip in the air. “This.”

You set your hands on your hips and stare at him in defiance. “Oh? What is it? A certificate for being the most pompous-”

“Just take a fucking look and you’ll see!”

While at first his sudden booming voice caused you to jump. You couldn’t help it, but your chest swelled with pride at seeing the great Maxwell Lord lose his temper at you. To know that you could get under the skin of the most powerful man in D.C. was almost enough payment in itself. Keyword being almost.

You snatched the paper from his hands, anger melting into shock when you realized it was, in fact, a written check and-

That’s a lot of zeroes. 

Max picked some imaginary lint off his shoulder before he took in your gobsmacked form with a satisfied smile. “I trust that will be enough to cover the consultation fee?”

Christ on a cracker, this was just for the consultation fee?

Stand your ground, girl. You reminded yourself. Don’t give him power over you. Give this corporate ken doll a piece of your mind.

You cleared your throat as you tucked the check worth more than your car into your backpocket and crossed your arms. With squared shoulders and your head held high you spoke in the most impassive and neutral tone you could collect from yourself. 

“It’ll do.”

Maxwell grinned like he was the cat and you the canary. You wondered what that made his wife. The sadistic pet owner most likely.

“Marvelous.” He all but purred. “Valerie will be in tomorrow to talk design with you. Until we meet again, Stitches.”

With a quick pivot on his heel, your richest client walked out of your store and into the car waiting for him outside. 

You felt a bit of your pride return when you watched him step into the dirty puddle of gutter water for a second time that day.

[sunshine-zenith]

oh you already Know. can i get a platonic smooch between the twins? uhhhh perhaps by a camprire under the stars, and for Longing

Hell ye

Prompt from here

(AO3 link)

—

Lup fiddles with her sleeve as she watches Taako try to start a fire. They have matches — their aunt was able to provide them with that, at least, before she had to send them on their way — but the wood they gathered is slightly damp from the rain they had earlier that morning.

Taako hisses when the match in his hand burns down enough that the heat licks his fingers. He drops it and they both watch silently as it dies in the mud. Lup knows what Taako’s thinking, that he’s weighing the pros and cons of trying again with another match — on one hand, one sun has already gone down, and it’s twin is following quickly. Even if their night vision is better than most non-elves, no suns means no warmth. No warmth means, at best, they’d wake up as a set of elfsicles in the morning.

At worst, they might not wake up.

On the other hand, a match used tonight is a match they can’t use tomorrow. These matches need to at least last them until they find something — a traveling vaudeville group that’ll find their twin status novel, a band of thieves willing to take on a couple apprentices, a group of travelers in need of spunky sidekicks, some passerby willing to toss a couple coins at them, just something.

Lup fiddles with her sleeve again — she’s wearing, and it still makes her giddy to think about, a new dress. It’s the second one she’s ever owned (well, she and Taako own. They share everything, obviously, and that includes clothes. Even if they didn’t, she knows Taako would get jealous if she didn’t share), and it’s nice — red and purple like the sky between sunsets, not too lacy and easy to move in, even if it’s a bit too big on her and already slightly dirty. It had come from their aunt’s attic, so it’s not new new by any means, but it’s still nice. The nicest thing they own at them moment, probably.

Lup fingers the sleeve one more time, watched her brother decide to pull out another match, and makes a decision of her own.

Holding out her hand, she says, “give it here, loser.”

“I think you got me confused with yourself there,” Taako quips, but he hands the matches over anyway.

“It happens enough with everyone else,” she says with a shrug. Taking the match with one hand, she wraps the hem of her skirt around her hand and squeezed as much moisture out of the sticks as she can. Taako eyes the muddy stain it leaves behind as she replaces the wood in the ring of stones they set up. He doesn’t say anything until she pulls out the knife she always carries and holds it up to one of her sleeves.

“Wait-“ he cuts himself off, looks embarrassed for a split second before saying, “...Asymmetry doesn’t suit you, for the record.”

“I can pull anything off.”

“Wrong, I can pull anything off. I’m the prettier twin.”

She laughs at that. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Koko.” The second sun has almost finished setting. The stars are starting to come out. Lup cuts through the fabric of her sleeve up to her shoulder, rips the seam, and places it at the center of the pile of wood. She lights the match with a quick flick of her wrist and holds it against the fabric until it catches. It takes a moment, but it spreads to the rest of the wood.

The twins huddle together for warmth by the fire, watching it silently. It’s beautiful, Lup thinks, watching its flames dance and eat the fabric.

There’s gotta be easier ways to light fires, she thinks

Finally, Taako says, “Remind me to keep an eye out for kindling in the future.”

Lup hears what he means clear enough — sorry. I know you love that dress.

So she wraps an arm around her brother and kisses his forehead, like their aunt did when they were little and couldn’t sleep, when food was low and they were sent to bed hungry, when they had beds to be sent to.

“The dress needed some alterations, anyway,” she says.

She holds Taako against her now sleeveless shoulder, watching the fire flicker as the stars decorate the deep purple sky.