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spriteofmushrooms · 1 month

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As Nie Huaisang poured their tea, Jiang Cheng rubbed his thumb against the carved wooden box in his lap and tried not to fret over what the other man was thinking. He knew what he looked like: the white streak at his temple announced it all. Jiang Cheng's cultivation was failing, and with the discussion conference tomorrow, it would be impossible to hide. Not even the reputation of Sandu Shengshou could shield him from being known now.

"Jiang-xiong, if you brought me a present, you have to give it to me," Nie Huaisang said behind his fan. His eyes seemed amused, at least, maybe.

"I know that," Jiang Cheng said, flustered and annoyed for being so. He placed it on the table between them.

Nie Huaisang tapped his hand with the closed fan where he hadn't yet pulled it away, and Jiang Cheng snatched it back to his lap. "It's a beautiful box, Jiang-xiong, but you can't keep it, either!"

"We're supposed to drink tea first," Jiang Cheng groused as Nie Huaisang's dainty fingers opened the lid.

"No, I distinctly recall the Gusu edict that states gifts are more important than anything," Nie Huaisang said. "If it's on their wall, you know it's orthodoxy itself. Oh, what are these?"

In his hands, the brilliant pressed ink cakes were even more beautiful. He was holding the azure bird, and his skin glowed against it. "One of the painters in Lotus Cove has... eccentric ideas. She's been experimenting with pigment and ash combinations. These are her more stable creations, but even then, they're not as permanent as standard ink. But, well." Jiang Cheng pulled a small book out of his sleeve and handed it over. "Here."

Nie Huaisang pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, darted a glance at Jiang Cheng's face, and then set the ink cake back into the box. "I don't have enough hands," he whined, but he took the book graciously. Page by page, his expression grew sharper; a slight flush brightened his cheeks. "A generous gift, Jiang-xiong."

Jiang Cheng swallowed. "She said the pink is especially fleeting, so you shouldn't hang anything with it in direct sunlight," he said gruffly. "Some of them have inclusions that make them act unpredictably in water. It's... You'll have to work with them a lot. To know how they'll perform."

"This kingfisher shimmers with true to life colors," Nie Huaisang murmured. After a moment of silence, he said, "I haven't painted in a long time."

"I know," Jiang Cheng said miserably. At the other's look, he added, "The fans from the last few years weren't your style."

Instantly, Nie Huaisang's fan was between them again. Jiang Cheng looked away, neck hot.

After a tense silence, Nie Huaisang said, "Jiang-xiong, would you tell me if something was wrong?"

"You know something is."

"Can something be done?" Nie Huaisang paused. "Gusu healers, perhaps?"

Jiang Cheng scoffed. "What Lan would help me? Hanguang-jun has never hidden his disdain for me, and Zewu-jun seems determined to live on darkness and silence forever. The Lans who would graciously ignore the feelings of one can't forgive me for being associated with Jin Guangyao and Guanyin Temple, for not noticing a-Ling's xiao-shushu was a treacherous minx who had beguiled the First Jade and would hurt his precious feelings later. As if I've ever picked up on anything like that before."

"How is Jin-zongzhu?" It was hard to read Nie Huaisang's tone, but that wasn't new.

Jiang Cheng fiddled with Zidian, tugging the chain. "He has his friends, his duties, and his shibo."

"Not his jiujiu?"

"You know how Wei Wuxian is," Jiang Cheng said.

Another pause. "I suppose I do." Nie Huaisang picked up and repositioned ink cakes for a moment before asking, "Does he know?"

"Unless the Jin spies defected, yes."

Nie Huaisang rapped his knuckles with the fan, and Jiang Cheng looked up at him. "He should have heard it from you."

"You don't get to tell me how to die," Jiang Cheng snapped.

Nie Huaisang looked bored. "Oh? Then why are you here?"

"This is why tea is supposed to be drunk first," Jiang Cheng said peevishly. "The entire pot is cold now."

Nie Huaisang draped himself over the couch and fanned himself. "You're a thorough person, Jiang-xiong. You must have an heir to announce tomorrow; likely, one of your usual retinue to these things. Not your head disciple, for as dear as that boy is, he doesn't have the head for politics, and politics and reputation have kept YunmengJiang safe. Chen Helin?" At Jiang Cheng's sharp look, he added, "I pay attention to you, too, Jiang-xiong."

"If you know everything, why ask?"

"No one can know everything," Nie Huaisang said gently. "I very often know nothing and must hope for the best. QingheNie hasn't fallen yet, which suggests even caged birds in pavilions aren't always prey." He looked at the box. "You want me to paint again. Why now?"

"After," Jiang Cheng started. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang's entire face. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang in soft, unembroidered robes. He wasn't used to seeing Nie Huaisang's hair down from its braids. "After," he repeated, "I didn't ask about your leg."

Nie Huaisang waited, but then murmured, "It healed."

Jiang Cheng swallowed. "I was selfish. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about Chifeng-zun's body or what seeing it in pieces would do to you, because I can't—things are better when you don't think about them. But you stopped painting when he died, Nie-xiong, and all I did back then was scold you for not knowing how to triage your sect in its grief. In your grief." Here, the traitor that used to be his body swelled, and the foreign wave of mourning filled him once again. "You should paint," Jiang Cheng said through tears.

"Oh." Nie Huaisang opened his mouth, and then he closed it, simply looking at Jiang Cheng. "Come here," he said, patting the couch.

Obediently, Jiang Cheng moved to sit next to him.

"Good, good. Put your face here, please."

Jiang Cheng hesitated, but was it wrong to seek comfort when invited? He hadn't asked for it. Nie Huaisang probably didn't know how much he needed it, so it wasn't like he pressured him into it. He fell forward and pressed his face into Nie Huaisang's neck. Engulfed by the complex herbal and spice blend preferred in Qinghe incense and Nie Huaisang's sweet, peppery chrysanthemum, he simply breathed.

"You helped me a lot back then, Jiang-xiong." Nie Huaisang was a little cooler than him, since their cultivation levels were so different, but it was refreshing on his heated cheeks. "Maybe you were stringent, but someone fussing at me to take care of my duties was comforting." His hand moved to the back of Jiang Cheng's head. "I'm sorry I didn't go to Lotus Pier and make a complete nuisance of myself when you needed one."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Why?"

"They said I killed your friend."

Nie Huaisang's hand tightened in his hair. "Weren't you my friend?"

Jiang Cheng didn't want to say that he didn't know, so he said nothing.

#mdzs #sangcheng #pallas.rtf #my writing #i wrote this over a year ago but i still think it's cute

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oddheadd · 4 months

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Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter II

Wendigo/Skinwalker x Reader

CW: Gore, animal deaths. The religion is made up and in no way do I intent to offend anyone, please don't read if such subjects trigger you.

I stare at my laptop screen, wanting to bang my head against the wall as I observe the blank page.

Yesterday I actually managed to fall asleep. The tapping didn't continue, but that's probably more disturbing. I would've brushed it off as the quirk of the cabin, but it was so random.

I sigh and close the laptop, lazily lifting myself off the couch and deciding to make myself another cup of coffee. I go outside and sit on the porch, drinking the steaming, bitter liquid. I watch the forest and I feel it drawing me in.

I keep watching the hypnotizing sway of the trees with the gentle wind, before I bring the now empty cup into the house and head out again, walking straight into the forest.

I wonder if it's still there.

As a child, I'd always wander into the forest, making mud pies, finding big sticks and hopefully searching for the animals. In my child, naive mind I thought I'd hop on their backs and they'd take me away into the wonderland.

Then I saw it... Not a cute, big eyed, furry animal, but the monstrously enormous monastery. What once used to be a praying space was then broken down and abandoned. And despite my fear, I went in.

The walls were painted with blood, carcasses of small animals hung loosely from the ceiling... In the very edge of the room, what I assume a recently killed deer was hung on the wall, its body was cut from it's neck to it's stomach, as if showing off it's insides.

I ran home crying and mom never brought me here after that. I assume it was something ritualistic. I shouldn't have wondered into the 17-19th century broken down catholic church anyways.

I sigh and kick around in the snow.

Looking down I see something. I furrow my brows and lean down, looking at what I assume is a deer footprint.

Then I hear shuffling behind me. I immediately turn around and-

"Oh, hi..." - A man waves at me awkwardly. He has dark hair with a matching pair of almond shaped eyes. Lashes, longer than my own rest on his eyelids under his thick brows. His hair is a little overgrown and he has a bit of stubble. He's wearing warm clothes and there's a hunting rifle in his left hand.

"Ah- You scared me." - I chuckle sheepishly.

"Sorry." - He smiles. - "What are you doing here?"

"...Taking a walk, I guess?"

"All alone? These woods are dangerous." - He furrows his brows a little.

"Really? I used to play in here all the time when I was a child..."

"You live here?" - He tilts his head and rests the rifle on the snowy ground.

"Not really, me and my family used to come here in summer. Now I'm here to uh, work, I guess?"

He smiles again. - "I just moved a few months ago."

I eye his rifle. - "You like hunting?"

"I hunt for food." - He corrects me. He then gives me his free hand to shake, and I do so. - "...Nathan."

"Y/N. You said the forest is dangerous? I've only seen deer so far..."

"Wolves." - He answers Shortly. - "But yes, there are lots of deer in here. Check this out," - He comes closer and leans down, pointing at the footprints I was observing before. - "I've never seen a footprint of a deer that big. If I manage to catch it, I won't have to hunt for a few weeks, maybe even a month. I swear to God I've been trying to hunt it down for days." - He sighs.

"Oh wow." - I tilt my head. - "Hunting seems intense."

"It's not as hard if you know the basics. Just long... And I'm impatient." - He chuckles. - "I could show you."

He looks at me with a smile and I find it hard to decline his offer. I smile back and nod.

We walk for a while, getting to know each other. He then lays down behind a fallen log and motions for me to do the same. We wait for a while and then two deer walk into our view. Nathan looks at me and brings his finger to his lips to hush me.

It all happens fast, there's a bang and the deer falls as the other runs away. Nathan gets up and approaches it. "You gotta be humane when you kill them, try aiming where it would have vital organs so it dies fast."

I hesitantly follow him. I look at the deers hooves and only then do I realize the huge difference between these and the footprints I saw earlier. The footprints were three, if not four times bigger.

I start to get bad vibes from this. - "...Have you seen big deer before?"

Nathan looks at me with a puzzled expression. - "Huh?"

"You said the footprints we saw earlier were big." - I say and sit on the nearby rock. - "You see them often?"

"...Not really."

"That's... Disturbing." - I sneer.

Nathan grins. - "Why, you worried for me?"

I snort. - "No, I'm worried for myself. I live on the edge of the forest." - I joke and he chuckles.

"It's totally a deer, I'm sure nothing to worry about." - He shrugs and starts tying the rope around the dead animal. - "If you're too worried, though..."

He stands up straight and approaches me, placing his hands on the rock, trapping me in-between. - "I could give you my number."

I chuckle and he backs up. - "The service is shitty but we can text. I don't like calls anyways."

"Okay." - I grin and he smiles. I write my number in my notepad, tearing the paper out and giving it to him after.

"You should go now, it's getting dark. Want me to walk you?"

I shrug. - "Nope. Just lead me towards the main path and I'll return myself." - I instruct him.

The walk home isn't too long, and I find myself attracted to the man as he waves at me. I walk into the cabin and sigh, happy to be embraced by warmth.

Then the deer footprints float up into my mind and I feel uneasy. How can Nathan be so calm? The deer is probably humongous, why? Is it a type of anomaly?

My worries wash away as my phone buzzes and I see a text from an unknown number.

"So you live on the edge of the forest? If you see a seven foot deer, text me asap ;P"

#yandere x reader #yandere #wendigo #skinwalker #wendigoxreader #scary #gorey #blehh #monsterxreader #monster

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justathoughtfulangel · 10 months

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Nothing But The Truth ~ Kai Parker One Shot

*not my gif

Pairing: siphon!Kai X witch!Saltzman!Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Requested?: Yes

This is a sequel to "I'd Rather You Lie." I've done my best to make sure this piece is readable as a one shot, but if you'd like to read the prequel, please read it here.

This IS a reader insert fic; I just don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of names. Use Rosalie/Rosie/Rose as a placeholder for Y/N :)

Description: Kai betrayed her trust, used her for his own selfish means. Now, he can't bear the pain and hurt he's caused her. Malachai understands now that he loves her, but is love enough to mend a broken heart?

Warnings: angst/heartbreak and minor mature language

The story begins after the break! I hope you enjoy reading it :)

“I’d rather you lie.”

It was easier for Rosalie when he lied. It had been easier to believe it was real. Now, she’d heard the lies so often she couldn’t possibly know what was true anymore. Kai’s ramblings came to a halt. Rose’s smile was more akin to a grimace. There were no tears in her eyes; there was nothing in her eyes as if there was no soul behind them.

Malachai had hurt many people in his life. He’d murdered his siblings, and he’d spent years torturing himself. Somehow, this emptiness in her was worse than all the damage he’d done combined. “Rosalie…” She just shook her head, walking passed him. There was still no emotion on her face as she hugged her winter jacket around her body. Kai watched her walk away, feeling the snow settle in his hair. The cold did not compare to all the pain that consumed him.

He tried to take a shaky breath. With a choked gasp and unbearable pain in his heart, Malachai watched her until she became a speck of dust in the distance. The worst part of it all? She didn’t turn to look back at him once.

Was it his fault for breaking her heart, or was it hers for allowing him to hold it in the first place? Her brain and heart grappled over this question every night, making it impossible to sleep. Thanks to Kai, she couldn’t return to the life she’d once loved. There was nothing left inside her that would allow her to love.

It wasn’t as if Rose was a stranger to pain. She’d been abandoned by people before. The people who brought her into the world had died. The ones who adopted her into their home as a child saw her as only a paycheck. Even Alaric was dead for a few years before miraculously coming alive again. None of those heartaches had destroyed her in the same way Malachai had.

Perhaps it was because it was her first time truly being in love. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, not even anger. Though her mind and heart disagreed on whose fault it was, they both knew feeling the agony of that betrayal would consume her.

For now, all she could do was continue existing in an endless cycle – school, work, Dad, friends, eat, sleep, repeat. ~

A new semester was starting after winter break, and Rosalie considered it a fresh start. She would put herself out there again; she’d try to come back to life. Rose was sitting in a large lecture hall, waiting for the professor of her creative writing course to arrive. She twirled her stylus around her fingers, making random doodles on her iPad. Someone sat down a few seats away from her, but she paid them no mind.

The hall continued to fill, and Professor Smith arrived ten minutes late. She was fun, and her quippy nature made up for the tardiness. Listening to a professor review a syllabus wasn’t boring for once. Rosalie was paying close attention, jotting down miscellaneous notes about due dates and assignment details.

“Your final paper, worth 30% of your grade, will be a writing piece: eight to ten pages long with attention to all topics and techniques we’ll review throughout the semester. Students who do best on this assignment never fail to present their learnings in a unique, refreshing way. Nothing should limit your imagination. Isn’t that right, boy who can’t stop staring at the girl in his row?” Rose was looking at the professor when she singled out the student not listening. As did the other students, she, too, looked around to see who the professor was scolding. Her grip slackened on her stylus as she heard his voice a few feet away. She would know that voice anywhere. “Y-yes, Professor. I’m sorry.” The professor nodded and continued. Malachai stole one more glance in her direction when the professor’s back was turned, and his eyes met Rosalie’s after weeks of not seeing each other.

Before he could talk to her, Rose rushed out of the lecture hall. Was he stalking her now? Swallowing away the bitter taste in her mouth, Rosalie instinctively made her way to her dad’s office. Glancing at the time, she knew Alaric was giving a lecture. Unlocking the door with magic and locking it behind her, Rose collapsed onto the couch. Her head fell into her hands, and her foot tapped against the ground anxiously.

Rosalie hadn’t yet asked her dad for Kai’s true story. She didn’t want to know it anymore; she told herself she didn’t care about him and whatever was causing him pain. Whether she would admit it or not, Rosalie was lying to herself, just as Kai had lied to her for weeks.

She stayed in the same spot for hours, finally looking up when she heard the door unlock. Alaric smiled at his daughter, unsurprised to find her here. This was a first-day-of-the-semester tradition for them – tea in his office and unpacking what happened in their new classes. Ric turned on the hot water kettle, pulling out mugs and tea for them. He only noted her troubles when she greeted him without energy, and his smile faded quickly. “Rosalie? What’s the matter?”

Rose sighed deeply, not knowing where to start. “I need you to tell me everything about Kai, Dad. Please.” The turmoil had been suppressed long enough; she bit the bullet and watched Ric’s expression twitch. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Hot water and honey were poured into their mugs. Rose kicked her shoes off, curled her legs under her, and claimed the steaming cup of tea. The silence was broken only when Alaric sat beside her on the couch.

He was torn about how much he should involve her but hiding the truth from Rose allowed Kai to hurt her. Ric wouldn’t hide things from her anymore. “Malachai is Josette’s twin brother.” A confused expression came over Rose’s face immediately. “Jo is in her early 40s. How is that possible?” To his credit, Alaric told her everything without biased embellishments, telling her the story exactly as Jo told him.

Of course, even he didn’t know the story from Malachai’s perspective.

He told her about how Kai was meant to merge with Jo and become the leader of the Gemini coven, how he was never worthy of the position. When he found out the thing he lusted after for twenty-two years would never be his, Kai snapped, murdering four of his little siblings in cold blood. Kai stuck a hunting knife into Josette and took out her spleen. Ultimately, he was after Lucas and Olivia. The Coven locked him up in a prison world, and he escaped when Bonnie and Damon ended up there after the Other Side collapsed.

Rosalie listened to everything, finding it impossible to believe that the guy she knew – the guy she thought she knew – was capable of all of this. Even as she left her dad’s office, Rose repeated the story in her mind. There had to be more to this story. No one was born evil. Something must have happened to Kai - something so horrible and cruel that his only choice was to protect himself this way.

Alaric had heard the story from Jo, but he hadn’t seen the tears Kai shed when no one was around to see them. Whatever caused him to snap tormented him even now, and no one should live that way. Despite this, Rosalie didn’t have it in her to forgive him. Maybe it was selfish, but he’d used someone who trusted him for reasons she could barely justify.

The door to her apartment closed behind her. Trying to push the thoughts away, Rose walked over to her fridge. She pulled it open, and the wave of cool air sent her mind reeling back…

Even on the drive back to Mystic Falls, her thoughts were consumed with Kai. He’d kissed her, and then he disappeared. What kind of decent person does that? Rosalie had begun to think that maybe she didn’t know Malachai at all. Her thoughts would be proven right a few minutes later. When Rose entered the Salvatore House, she heard the flames of the fireplace crackling and voices coming from the living room. “How do you know my daughter?” Her dad was threatening someone, holding them by their neck as he tilted the chair towards the fireplace. Damon forced him away, trying to calm Alaric down. “Easy, Papa Bear. Kai’s going to cooperate. Talk. Now.” Kai? Her Kai? No… “Didn’t you know? I’ve been dating her for a while. Here I thought she told you everything, Alaric. Of course, she thinks it’s real, which is sweet, really. At least someone among us has a heart.” Kai kept on talking, but she heard none of it. It was as if her senses had been disconnected from her brain. “She’s just so welcoming… it was so easy to step into her life. I could get into all of yours and take what I’ve always wanted. But you really didn’t need to torture me to get that out of me, did you? I think I’m an excellent communicator.” Damon and her dad had already seen Rose standing there, and when Damon forced Kai’s chair around, she registered the briefest flicker of remorse in his eyes. She didn’t have it in her to care, not right now. All she did was turn around and leave. The air outside felt so much colder than she could bear. It bit her cheeks as tears filled her eyes. Rosalie refused to let them fall. She would not cry over someone who was using her.

The tears that had refused to spill all those months ago came bubbling to the surface. Her knees buckled below her, and her hands rushed to cover her mouth as a pained scream came out. All the agony at his betrayal created burning trails on her cheeks, and as she curled up on the ground, her shoulders shook with each sob.

Rosalie finally let herself admit that she had loved Malachai: she probably still did. She’d put her heart into someone’s hands for the first time and this was what she earned in return. Nothing in her life felt fair. How many more people would hurt her before she could finally be free?

The anguish she’d failed to acknowledge and process now took over. It subsided hours later when the chill from the open fridge had coated her spine and the door beeped in protest. Rose gave it a weak push and it creaked shut.

She’d loved him, and now she didn’t think she could love anymore.

Caroline smacked a piece of paper down on the table in front of Rosalie. “The annual Whitmore Bitter Ball is on Saturday, and you’re coming.” Rose picked up the flyer, smiling without amusement at the clashing black and grey letters. “Come onnnn, you’re the one that’s most bitter in love out of any of us.”

Elena and Bonnie gave Caroline a withering stare, while Rose just shook her head. “Sorry… insensitive.” She cleared her throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness. “You should come, Rosalie. We all deserve a night out.” Elena was gently encouraging in stark contrast to Caroline. Rose didn’t know how she felt about it. “Okay, dance or no dance, at least come dress shopping with us? We need your opinions.” Truthfully, it sounded dreadful. After a long blink, Rosalie smiled and agreed. “Fine. It’ll be just like high school.” It wouldn’t be for her; it would be for her friends.

A few hours later, Rosalie was walking between aisles upon aisles of dresses. Some were gaudy and drew way too much attention. Some were too plain for a ball. Then again, maybe plain was best – something that could help her hide in the shadows as she attended the dance for the sake of her worried friends.

Rose ultimately chose a silken, black gown. It had an attractive sweetheart neckline and golden embellishments around the waist. The skirt didn’t puff out obnoxiously, and with a golden mask to abide by the masquerade policy, it was the perfect disguise.

On Saturday evening, Rosalie found herself standing in the corner of the grand ballroom. People were all over the place: some drunk, some dancing, some crying, and some doing all of the above. Rose watched people move about behind her mask, twirling the straw around in her gin and soda with extra limes. She’d promised Caroline she’d stay out for an hour, and thankfully, the hour was almost up.

Downing her drink, Rosalie walked across the dance floor. She had managed to artfully avoid the masses until she reached the bar. The glass clinked down onto the granite counter, right beside someone also attending this ball alone. He turned around slowly, setting down his own glass. They looked at each other silently for a few heavy seconds, neither saying a word.

Malachai’s eyes shined in the dim lighting of the ballroom, swimming with numerous feelings yet glistening with the joy of seeing her. Rosalie’s expression remained passive, unreadable. She’d cried her heart out already. What was the next step in the process of healing from heartbreak?

“I don’t know how a ball for the brokenhearted could be such a hit,” Kai said. Rose smiled without amusement, looking around at the crowd once again. “You never know, maybe lots of people have broken hearts around here.” Malachai swallowed away the knot of emotion in his throat, his eyes darting to the dance floor. “Maybe you’re right.”

He refused to meet her eyes, and it sparked something inside her. It was some convoluted mixture of rage, pain, desperation, and, most unexpectedly, a tinge of hope. “Dance with me?” She held out her hand to him in challenge. Kai’s gaze flit between her hand, the dancing couples, and the gleam in her eyes. Whatever brought it back, he’d missed it dearly. He took her hand, leading her to join the crowds.

Rose let out a soft laugh at the song change, wondering if Caroline had something to do with the music. War of Hearts played over the speakers as Kai’s hand came to rest on her waist. Their fingers linked together, and this time, everything else fell away.

Come to me in the night hours. I will wait for you.

Both recalled the same memories as they stepped in unison. Their awkward first interaction in the coffee shop. The first date where Kai was trying to be charming but ended up spilling soda all over his shirt. His tears when the thoughts of his past tormented him. The devastation they both felt when Rosalie found out about Malachai’s betrayal.

“Have you been stalking me, by the way?” Kai almost smiled, his brow rising. “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea you’d be in the same section?” He twirled her around, pulling her back to him. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe, Malachai.”

She’d been the only one who could use his full first name without making him flinch. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Kai sighed, resigned with himself. “I don’t know what I can say, Rose. You have every right to not trust me. Let me just ask you one thing, and then I will leave you alone.”

I can’t help but love you, even though I try not to. I can’t help but want you. I know that I’d die without you.

“Do you honestly think I didn’t break my own heart when I broke yours?” His arms wrapped around her as Kai selfishly pulled her close. If this was the last time, he needed to hold her close. The back of his hand brushed her cheek, and he memorized the feel of her soft skin. He was close enough to see the reflection of his dark, satin mask in Rosalie’s eyes.

Rose didn’t know how to react. Her first instinct was to say no. He had sounded so convincing when he gloated to Ric and Damon about how he used her. How could that be the voice of someone with a broken heart? That same person stood in front of her now, looking at her with deeper affection and sincerity unlike anything she’d known before.

Rosalie held the hand brushing her cheek, wrapping her own around it before stepping away from Kai. “Malachai, I can’t do this again.” Kai had let her walk away once. He wouldn’t give up without a fight this time. “Please… I promise I won’t ever hurt you. I won’t lie to you. From now on, nothing but the truth.”

I can’t help but be wrong in the dark, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts. I can’t help but want oceans to part, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts.

With those words, Rose threw her arms around Malachai and kissed him. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was just plain stupid. It didn’t matter. Not trusting him had been so unendurably painful; even if he played her again, it would be worth it.

Kai froze in surprise for a fraction of a second, not expecting her to give him the one thing he wanted most. He took her face in his hands, suppressing a sob of relief and joy. Malachai brought her closer, hugging her flush against his body.

People still danced around them, oblivious to the two souls who’d found each other and would never part again.

The end of the semester approached, faster than anticipated. Malachai and Rosalie had spent the last months together, and true to his word, he hadn’t lied to her… until tonight.

In his lonesome years in the prison world, Kai had honed his cooking and baking skills. Tonight, after a long week of finals, they were making Kai’s chocolate chip cookies – a recipe he’d refined and mastered over twelve years. Rosalie was whipping together browned butter and sugar, and Kai was chopping chunks of dark chocolate into shards with a knife. The apartment smelled like toasted sugar, and their playful banter brought them much-needed laughter.

“Where’d you put the vanilla extract I brought over?” Rosalie was looking in Kai’s kitchen drawers, and just as she reached one near the edge of the counter, he stepped in front of her. “Not in that one! There’s nothing in that one. Let’s move on.” Why was he in such a rush to get her away from that drawer?

“Malachai… what are you hiding from me?” He sighed and stepped aside, remembering his promise to her. Rose didn’t take her eyes off him as she opened the drawer. Looking down, she halted in shock at the only object inside: a small black jewelry box.

Kai grabbed it before she could, putting it behind her back. She gave him a look, raising her eyebrows in question. “What are you hiding from me?” She repeated her question, her voice even more pointed, now with curiosity rather than suspicion. Adorably anxious, Kai nipped at his lower lip and tugged at his hair momentarily.

Setting the box on the kitchen counter, Kai flipped its lid. Within it, tucked into cushioned velvet, lay matching silver rings. They were similar in style to the ones Malachai often wore, the metal bands thick and fairly plain. He removed them both, showing her the inscription inside the bands: nothing but the truth.

“This isn’t a proposal. Not yet, at least.” Kai’s nervousness didn’t help him get these words out, but when he looked up, looking into her eyes, suddenly it was much easier. “I wanted us to have something that reminds us of our journey and how far we’ve come. I want us to have these.” Before he said anything more, Kai slipped his ring onto his middle finger. Rosalie accepted his gift and put on her ring. She took his hand and laced their fingers together. “Thank you, Kai,” Rose spoke with tenderness, holding Kai’s face. “I’ll never take it off.” Their lips met in a sweet kiss, and the smooth metal of their rings clinked together quietly. They squeezed each other’s hands lovingly, now certain neither would let go.

~~~

That's all for this piece! Thank you to the anon who requested I give them a happy ending; this story would not exist without you :)

Please feel free to send any thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms my way. I always welcome them.

If you’d like to be tagged in future Kai Parker works, feel free to message me/leave a comment here. If you liked this story, feel free to check out my other stories from my Malachai Parker Masterlist (pinned to the top of my profile).

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel

Master Taglist: @socio-kai-path1972, @bluelicious, @genevivetaylor, @kolsangel, @callsign-luckyshot

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commander-krios · 5 months

Text

A Divine Dream

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Rolan/Dammon Rating: Teen Summary: An invitation to a Grand Ball. A returning hero. And the man who'd gotten away. Words: 5798 Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Slow Dancing, Ballroom Dancing, Banter, Happy Ending, Love and Hope, Second Chances, Mild Language, Background Wyll/Karlach

Read on AO3

This fic was written for @Cozy_Bossi to go along with a piece of art they made a few months ago of Dammon and Rolan. I've attached the picture and their twitter on AO3 so that you can follow them for more wonderful art!

Also, I hit 200k words posted for 2023!

Your presence is requested at a Grand Ball in honour of the rebuilding of Baldur’s Gate by his eminence, Duke Ulder Ravengard.

The invitation was written in elegant script, looped letters in golden ink that glittered in the light. He knew he should attend. Most likely, his absence would be noticed and considered rude among the upper circles of the city. He was the master of Ramazith’s Tower and Baldur’s Gate’s newest archmage, yet he had much to still do, even a year after the destruction of the Absolute. With a sigh, Rolan tossed the parchment on his desk amidst mountains of scrolls and books.

The movement caught Cal’s eye. His brother glanced up from his book, scrunching his face in concern. “Another solicitor?”

“If only.” Untying his hair from the elaborate braid he’d started to wear recently, he brushed his fingers through the strands, combing the knots out. “There is a party for the Duke in a tenday. I’m expected to attend.”

“A party sounds fun.” Cal reached for the paper, glancing it over quickly before a grin appeared on his face. A grin that Rolan didn’t like the look of. “And Ravengard is fair and honorable. You might actually enjoy yourself.”

“The horror.” Rolan muttered, the sarcasm not lost on his younger brother. “I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather be doing than getting dressed up like a prized peacock and prancing around a dance floor.”

“Is it because you don’t have a date?” Cal teased, setting the invitation face up in front of Rolan again, the golden script mocking him.

“A date? Have you seen the type of person that tries to woo me? Hardly any of them are worth the time or effort.”

“So you’re saying that some of them are worth it?”

“Please spare me.” The invitation sat open, a temptation despite his objections. How long had it been since he’d left the Tower to merely socialize? His work as archmage brought him to many drawing rooms in Baldur’s Gate, not to mention his travels across Faerun visiting with other archwizards. He wasn’t locked away in Ramazith’s Tower like his predecessor had been. No, he frequently took on apprentices, delved into research with other wizards in the Realms.

But his patience for frivolous things, for frivolous people, had waned in the last months. What use was making connections, social or otherwise, when the one person he wished to see had left for Avernus nearly a full year ago?

Cal shifted in his seat, bringing his book closer as if he planned to continue reading, but his eyes were fixed on a singular spot on the page. He knew what this was. Cal craved life outside of the tower walls. Lia was well established with the Flaming Fist. She had friends and dates and hobbies that kept her away for days at a time. Cal had put his life on hold to stay behind and help Rolan with the organization of the Tower, of everything Lorroakan had left behind. He worked in Sorcerous Sundries most days, only going out on the occasion when Lia insisted.

After everything they’d been through to get to this point, Rolan knew he owed his brother this.

With a sigh, Rolan rested his elbow on the desk, cupping his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed on his brother. “Cal.”

Cal glanced up curiously, the shadow of a grin twitching at his lips. “Yes, Rolan?”

“Did you want to go to the ball with me?”

In his excitement, Cal slammed the book shut hard enough that the entire table shook. Rolan cast a spell to stop the ink pot from tumbling to the floor. It floated, suspended in mid-air before he snatched it and returned it to the safety of the desk.

“I know you’re excited, but please be careful.”

“Sorry.” Cal said with a sheepish grin. “Should we invite Lia?”

“I suspect she’ll be there.” Rolan cleared away the texts, standing and replacing them to their spots on the bookshelf. He didn’t want to discuss the ball, or the Flaming Fist, or anything when he knew how easily it could lead to places and people he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. Friends that were long gone and most likely would never return.

“Right. Flaming Fist and all.” Cal stood as well, stretching to relieve his muscles from sitting in one place so long. “Should I check in on Tolna before bed?”

“No.” He said, realizing his voice was sharper than was necessary. Forcing himself to be gentler, he turned to his brother, putting on his best smile. The frown on Cal’s face only proved he was still terrible at it. “I’ll do it. I should secure the vault and check in on a few things anyway. Go. Get some rest.”

Cal hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but decided better of it. “Alright. You’ll let me know if you need help, right?”

Rolan nodded, but he knew no matter how much help he needed, he wouldn’t bother his brother’s well deserved rest. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he gathered up his loose hair, tying it back like he used to do when they traveled the dangerous roads of the Storm Coast. If Cal noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “Of course. Now off with you. I have work to do.”

Cal knew better than to argue with him, it wasn’t worth the trouble. Even if Rolan was in the wrong, it took practically pulling teeth for him to admit it. When his brother finally exited through the portal, the wizard of Ramazith’s Tower was left in the echoey silence.

~~~~

Duke Ulder Ravengard’s estate was lavishly decorated with red and gold hangings, perfectly shined silverware, the glow of hundreds of candles creating the perfect romantic atmosphere for the couples that had already taken to the dancefloor. Gowns made of delicate fabrics in colors of indigo and crimson, lavender and silver, each one more beautiful than the last, billowed and swayed with each movement. Elaborate beading, expensive jewelry, fashionably coiffed hair…

Rolan still couldn’t believe he was here with the nobility as an equal. All of his ambition and dreaming never prepared him for this new life: the opulence, the respect, the wealth of knowledge at his hands. He knew how lucky he was for such a chance, he’ll always be grateful to Wyll and his friends for helping him acquire it.

With a wave of his hand and a quiet recitation of a well-known spell, stars sparkled across the ceiling, falling in wide arcs of light and color, and a smattering of applause went through the room at the sight.

Cal inhaled sharply beside him, eyes fixed on the magic until it disappeared, wonder and appreciation on his face. “Wow. That never gets old, does it?”

Rolan smiled softly, clapping a hand to his brother’s shoulder, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the light show. Almost like old times. “I’m glad you convinced me to come. Now, go. Enjoy yourself. I am going to see if Lia is here yet.”

Cal met his eyes, hesitating. “Are you sure you want me to leave you?”

“I can handle some nobles, Cal.” Rolan held back a laugh at the incredulous look on his brother’s face. “I’m not that insufferable, am I?”

“Well…”

Pushing gently against Cal’s shoulder, he wasn’t surprised when he burst into laughter. “Get out of here, you menace.”

Cal was still chuckling as he melted into the crowd, in search of whoever he knew among the guests. The Flaming Fist was here in force, silent watchers in the corners of the room, although most threats to the Duke or the city had long disappeared with the destruction of the Elder Brain and the deaths of the Chosen Three. Baldur’s Gate, like much of the Storm Coast, hadn’t experienced peace such as this in years. He hoped it lasted.

Rolan had no difficulty finding Duke Ravengard in the crowd, he and Counsellor Florrick speaking to nobility and common folk alike, neither being barred from the Upper City as was once the norm. Now, everyone had a voice in the rebuilding, in the life that was going to bloom here, and Rolan was grateful to be part of it.

Perhaps there was hope, after all. Hope for a better future, for a happier one. A future where he didn’t have to regret or question the choices he’d made.

A future where he finally made a life for himself.

His sister was at her post near the back of the room, the refreshment table not far from where she stood. When Lia noticed his approach, a smile spread across her face, waving in the direction he’d come from.

“I knew you had to be here when the magic show lit up the room. Can’t stop showing off, can you?”

“I did it for Cal, if you must know.” He replied flippantly, reaching immediately for the Arabellan Dry and pouring a large glass full. “He is here, somewhere.”

“Probably searching for Lord Guthmere’s daughter.” She teased, pretending to be at attention when he glanced at her. “They’ve taken a liking to one another.”

“Please, Lia. Let’s not make enemies of the patriars of the city already. I don’t want to be chased out by a mob because you and Cal cannot be discrete.”

She was silent as he sipped the wine, watching the people of Baldur’s Gate flirt, dance, and stand a world apart from them. Even if he was considered among them, Rolan doubted he would ever feel as comfortable among the glitter and gold than he was in the Sundries library, discussing spells and history with other wizards, most notably Elminster and Gale, both of whom visited him frequently over the last year. It’d been quiet, informative, and immensely enjoyable.

“You look weird.” Lia said, barely concealed mischief flirting across her face. She wore her Flaming Fist uniform, the crimson fabric and silver iron looking right on her. He would never admit it aloud, but he was proud of the woman she’d become.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t still irritate him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He brushed a hand over the rich blue robes he wore, enjoying how the golden threads shone in the light. Rolan had spent days searching for the perfect set of robes for the Duke’s ball, only to end up in Facemaker’s at the last moment to find something worthy of an archmage. “This was an expensive purchase.”

“You might want to ask for your money back.” She teased him, motioning to the ensemble. His frown deepened. “Half of it is missing.”

Rolan sniffed in irritation, lifting the goblet to his mouth again.“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Hells, you’re sensitive tonight.” Lia rolled her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t roll all the way into her skull. “I was joking, you idiot.”

“It’s difficult to tell when everything you say is a joke.”

She stared at him until his lips twitched, a smile curling his lips without his permission. Lia snorted a laugh, shaking her head but the expression on her face was approving. Figured.

“Why are you over here sulking, anyway? I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love to get to know the fabulous Master Rolan.”

He gazed into the wine glass, the dark burgundy liquid holding no answers to what plagued him. Only he knew and like hell would he explain any of it to his sister.

He diverted her attention instead.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying less about me and more about protecting the Duke instead?”

Lia rolled her eyes, nodding to the Duke in question. “As if anyone is going to get past his entourage. Most of the Fist are here for the appearance of protection. Absolutely no one is going to hurt the Duke with a wizard prodigy, a Harper, and a damned vampire spawn protecting him.”

There was no doubt about that. The Duke’s son had left Baldur’s Gate to his father’s benevolent rule, but hadn’t left him alone. Many of his companions had either stayed in the city or visited frequently, to the point that they were welcomed guests at Ravengard’s.

“I suppose you have a point.” Rolan conceded before taking another sip of wine, refusing to meet his sister’s gaze. The last thing he wanted was to see her smug grin. She may have won this argument, but there would be plenty of those tonight and he wasn’t going to concede victory so early. “But then again, I am also here to protect our beloved Duke. Lest you forgot.”

“Could never forget a head that big.”

Rolan held his tongue when there was movement ahead, a gathering of the patriars and their guests as the familiar visage of Duke Ravengard appeared, calling for their attention as if his very presence didn’t immediately call for it. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed even Lia had snapped to attention, her chin held high and her focus entirely on the man she worked for. He’d never seen her so disciplined before.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one to truly benefit from the time they’d spent in Baldur’s Gate.

“Now that everyone has gathered, it’s time I explained why I asked you here.” Ulder Ravengard stood slightly raised above the crowd, a goblet of wine in his hand, Florrick and a few of his closest council standing a few feet off, watching with much less anxiety than the rest.

Whispers broke out, speculation running rampant. Ravengard raised his hands in supplication, a genuine happiness on his face that Rolan hadn’t seen much of since Wyll left for Avernus, and the guests fell silent, waiting with bated breath for his announcement. Rolan sighed quietly, trying to still the anxious flutter of his hands. He folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands against his body, trying to ignore the foreboding that tickled at the back of his mind.

“It’s been nearly a year and yet, I never gave up hope that my son would return home to Baldur’s Gate. To us.” Rolan didn’t miss the whispered ‘to me’ that Ravengard spoke under his breath. “And for the first time since that day against the Netherbrain, he isn’t alone. Please aid me in welcoming back the Pride of the Gate, your hero, and my son. Wyll.”

Applause and cheers mixed among the patriars, all turning as one as the enormous ornate doors opened once more to admit their heroes. Wyll Ravengard stood at the front, looking as much the hero as the Blade of Frontiers ever had, dressed in an impeccable doublet of black and gold, a prince among patriars.

The tiefling barbarian, Karlach, stood beside him with their arms linked, a radiant force with her wide smile and affectionate laugh, eyes sparkling with a fire that always burned within her.

Rolan hadn’t heard a single scrap of news regarding the tiefling with the infernal engine until now. Her return to Avernus was kept quiet among the companions and the few people who knew of her affliction. Duke Ravengard’s mood had soured considerably after Wyll left with her, refusing to let the woman he loved suffer alone, but tonight, there was a new light within the Duke… within them all. A happiness that Rolan hadn’t seen in so long.

Wyll’s infectious laughter and wit immediately drew people to his side as it always did. He was surrounded by his usual friends, those that had helped him end the Absolute plot. The silver-haired cleric held a goblet of wine and a rather beautiful smile on her face. The wizard of Waterdeep with his jovial laughter and light hearted, yet silly jokes. The pale vampire who was the life of the party, taking in the attention with the air of a man who’d done this sort of thing his entire life. The High Harper and the former First Druid stood side by side farther back, discussing something at length with the Githyanki, supplied with all manner of drink and entertainment, preferring to shield themselves from the golden light that radiated from the savior of Baldur’s Gate instead of basking in it.

But none of them held the allure of the one who stood within the confines of their circle, out of place among heroes but never far from Rolan’s thoughts.

A tiefling blacksmith with a heart of gold and a smile to match it.

Dammon’s radiant smile was all the more blinding with the joy reflected in his dazzling blue eyes. He watched Karlach and Wyll with the pride of a friend, the affection of a brother. They had been his constant companions for nearly a year and yet, Rolan was jealous of the bond he’d so clearly built with them.

It was then that Rolan realized what their return meant. Karlach was no longer burning up, the fire of the infernal engine stifled in her chest.

They’d done it.

“It sounds like father has been telling tall tales about our exploits.”

“If anyone deserves to be a hero, it’s you, darling.” Astarion cooed at him, lifting a glass of wine to his lips. “Just take it before he decides to build a statue or something. The man is relentless.”

Karlach laughed, a harsh loud bark that was full of so much love and joy that it nearly broke Rolan’s heart. How he missed her vibrant personality, despite how loud and perhaps a tad bit boisterous she could be. Wyll took her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles, a gesture that felt too intimate for the setting.

He ignored his friend’s teasing and instead, tugged Karlach closer, slipping his free arm around her waist, their combined hands coming up in the imitation of a dancer’s pose. “Let’s lead this dance, shall we, my love?”

Karlach responded, but Rolan didn’t care what it was she said, what any of them said, not when Dammon had noticed him staring. Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he snapped it shut, blush crawling up his neck and cheeks to the tips of his ears. Dammon smiled at him kindly and approached as the heroes of Baldur’s Gate continued to the dance floor, ignoring the two of them completely.

Rolan’s gaze swept Dammon’s body, taking in the new piercing hanging from his pointed ear, the dark blue doublet with fancy cloak, gold clasps glittering in the light of a thousand candles.

“I didn’t realize you’d returned. This is quite the surprise.” Rolan said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible, but knowing he immediately failed when Dammon glanced at him, curiosity winning out over anything else. He swallowed with some difficulty, a lump sitting painfully in his throat. Might as well have been his foot.

“Yes. It was… recent. Very recent.” Dammon cleared his own throat, suddenly captivated by the sight of the dancers. Avoiding his gaze, most likely. “Karlach is doing much better than I expected. Better than I had hoped. I’m proud of how far she’s come. She deserves a happy ending.”

And what of us?

Rolan’s shoulders stiffened as his gaze sought out the subject of their conversation. She was laughing loudly, her voice carrying over the music and the chatter. Rolan could acknowledge that she deserved this, both she and Wyll did, but he was still angry that Dammon of all people took that responsibility on to himself. To leave for the Hells, the very place they’d escaped from such a short time ago, to put himself in danger for a woman he barely knew. Only because of the infernal engine she carried.

He took advantage of Dammon’s distraction to study him. The doublet he wore was a rich ocean blue, only highlighting the azure of his pretty eyes. His blond hair brushed his shoulders when he turned, watching a particularly handsome couple spin across the dance floor. The corners of his mouth tipped up, his expression gentle, softening his features. Longing thrummed beneath Rolan’s skin, the desire to reach out and comb some of that blond hair from his face, to tuck it behind an ear, if only to trail one of his claws across Dammon’s jaw.

“I suppose they all do. They did save us, after all.” Rolan forced the words out, trying to bridge the gap between them, the one that he had created when they’d last spoken. Because despite Dammon deciding to help Karlach’s mission in the Hells, Rolan was the one who’d taken a step back, reexamined things. He decided to leave the fleeting touches and longing looks behind him.

Rolan didn’t want to be left alone picking up the pieces of his heart when Dammon didn’t return. For a year, he’d been right. Dammon was gone, he wasn’t coming back, the Hells had torn him apart or had broken him. And if he did come back, what would be left? Would the man he cared for even still be in there, somewhere?

Rolan knew he wouldn’t survive that. Not after everything they’d fought against, fought for.

Dammon played with the edge of his cloak, the fine fabric shimmering with each movement. He was lost in his mind again, the revelry echoing in a sea of sound and color, a kaleidoscope of chaos. “Everyone here is a hero, in their own way. Even you, Rolan.”

He snorted, resisting an eye roll at the almost compliment. “Of course I am. My greatest achievements being almost getting killed by goblins and shadow creatures only to end up abused at the hands of a megalomaniac. You have a strange definition of hero.”

Dammon glanced up at his confession and Rolan realized too late what he’d admitted. He couldn’t meet the blacksmith’s gaze, this time he was the one to stare out into the crowd. “Lorroakan did what?”

Shit.

“I… Karlach told me about the aasimar, but not-”

Rolan waved the concern away, trying not to feel embarrassed at how easy it was to talk to Dammon. Like old times, indeed. “It’s fine. I’m fine. If it makes it easier to swallow, I helped to throw him from the Tower.”

“It does not.” Dammon sighed, closing his eyes and breathing slowly as if to calm himself. “If I had known, if you’d told me-”

“It changes nothing. Lorroakan is dead and I’m the new Master of the Tower. It’s taken a lot of work but it is mine now. And the Realms’. Knowledge shouldn’t be hoarded.”

Dammon made a noise low in his throat. A strangled laugh. At least, that’s what he thought it was.

“Is something funny?”

“I didn’t expect you to see the silver lining in such an awful situation. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always had confidence in excess.”

“Confidence or not, I’ve had plenty of practice surviving. We both have, it seems.”

Dammon bit his lip, concentrating on the words for what they were, a truth that was impossible for him to refute. They’d both done quite a bit of surviving over the last few years. Together and not.

And that was the problem, Rolan realized. Despite everything he’d gained, the safety and security of his position, the wealth and knowledge at his fingertips, the wonderful lives that he always swore he’d provide for his siblings, he was still in survival mode. A difficult habit to break, for sure.

“Rolan, I-”

Clearing his throat, Rolan cut Dammon off before he could get anything else out. The last thing he wanted was a heart to heart in such a public place, with the man who he, once upon a time, wanted something more with. “I apologize, but I really must return to the tower. It’s excellent that you’re well, Dammon. Truly. Perhaps, in the future, you can regale me with tales of your fight in Avernus.”

A brief flash of uncertainty crossed Dammon’s face before he hid it behind a smile. The blacksmith was always levelheaded, more so than Rolan ever was.

Rolan turned away, intending to disappear into the crowd without another word, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks before he could take a single step. “Ah, here you are. The man I was looking for. Where are you off in such a rush?”

Wyll. Of all the people who could’ve caught his escape, it had to be the one whose disappointment would hurt most.

“I’m terribly sorry for leaving so soon… there are things I forgot that must be done, tonight-”

Wyll tsked, shaking his head with a frown on his face. For a brief moment, Rolan felt like a child again, being scolded by the matron of the orphanage he’d been abandoned at. The expression always rankled and this was no exception.

“The Archmage of Baldur’s Gate must stay for one dance. Come, I haven’t seen you in nearly a year and you’ve been standing here stiff as the statue my father said Lia had commissioned of you.”

“She did what?”

“I must insist that you enjoy yourself.” Wyll smiled kindly, nodding towards the dance floor. Rolan’s heart thudded dangerously fast in his chest at the thought of twirling among the other guests. Dancing wasn’t one of his strengths. He couldn’t recall ever having to do so. “Please. Think of it as a favor to an old friend.”

Damn him.

“I’m sure I can enjoy myself quite well with another glass of wine.”

Dammon coughed, covering his mouth with a hand, eyes staring at his feet. Rolan easily saw the smirk he attempted but completely failed to hide. So this was an ambush, was it?

“You mustn’t leave us so soon, Rolan.” Wyll continued as Karlach joined them, the fitted ebony gown looking even more stunning up close. She slipped her hand into Wyll’s, the joy of being to touch her love clear on her face. “There is plenty of fun left to be had.”

“But, I don’t have a partner.” Rolan responded, a smug grin aimed in the direction of the blacksmith. Dammon’s eyes widened slightly, as if he realized where Rolan’s thoughts had gone. If I have to suffer this madness, then so do you.

“Crazy idea!” Karlach interrupted, a grin breaking out across her lips, excitement sparkling in those glowing golden eyes. “You and Dammon could dance. Together. Because if it’s one thing I know after all of this crazy shit, it’s that everyone needs a chance to find that special person that makes them better. And Dammon here,” Karlach nudged him with an elbow, a grin that could light the Hells on her face. “Well, let’s just say he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since we left for Avernus.”

A blush colored Dammon’s cheeks at the revelation. “Karlach!”

“Was it a secret?” She asked, seeming genuinely confused and Rolan might’ve laughed if he wasn’t so embarrassed. “Come on, the two of you are irritatingly obvious and if I have to throw you into a wardrobe until you finally just f-”

“What Karlach means to say is-” Wyll cut her off, tugging her away from the two of them with a laugh. But not before throwing one last look at them. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Karlach’s laughter faded into the murmurs of the crowd, the son of an Archduke and the tiefling barbarian he loved finding the time to enjoy their lives now that the latest crisis had passed. Rolan released a breath, feeling the tightness in his chest ease only a little, a new fear warring inside of him. With a quick glance in Dammon’s direction, he wasn’t surprised to see the blacksmith studying him.

“I think that was the most polite threat I’ve ever had aimed at me.”

Rolan laughed, feeling breathless, and perhaps a little dizzy. It was definitely a threat, but one he might actually not be afraid of the consequences of. “I guess we have only one option then. That is, if you’re amenable to a dance.”

Hells, was he really doing this? He didn’t even really know how to dance a proper waltz.

Dammon raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Is that what you want?”

The man was so annoyingly handsome, with his light hair cascading around his face and striking blue eyes that haunted Rolan so many nights since their first meeting in Elturel. And here they were, both alive and settled in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by friends, living the future they’d only dreamed about. Dammon was watching him intently, a soft grin curling his lips in a way that left Rolan’s insides feeling like pudding.

Holding his arm out in invitation, he tried to quell the erratic beat of his heart when Dammon linked their arms together, fingers brushing softly against his forearm.

Dammon was alive. After all of this time. The Hells hadn’t destroyed him, hadn’t changed him. His eyes were still kind, soft, beautiful. And to touch him after everything...

The room was too warm, too crowded, too bright, but when Dammon turned to face him in the midst of it all, everything faded to background noise. The only thing Rolan could see was the hypnotic azure of his eyes, a golden ring around his irises that was the same color as a noonday sun. There was a pink flush to his cheeks, the candles in the chandelier above highlighting the gold in his blond hair. Dammon was ethereal, dazzling, and too good for him.

The orchestra began its song, the music swelling around them as Dammon took the lead, free hand sliding to Rolan’s waist while the other gripped his hand gently. Then, without warning, they were moving, no, gliding, across the dance floor, their feet barely touching the ground as they went. Rolan knew there were eyes on them, he felt them burning into the back of his head, but the look of unadulterated bliss on Dammon’s face kept his attention.

There was nothing more beautiful to him than the sight of Dammon’s smile as they spun in the complicated dance, his face flushed in exhilaration, a laugh on his lips that came out awed, delighted.

“You’re good at this.” Rolan said, forgetting himself in the moment. He felt weightless as Dammon changed direction, stepping even closer. Blush creeped up his neck at the soft brush of their chests and his breath caught in his throat. “Uh, dancing, that is.”

Dammon chuckled, barely able to hide the smile on his face. “You are kind to say that. I admit, it’s been a while.”

The music picked up speed, a tempo that had the rest of the dancers spinning madly around them. Dammon’s gloved fingers tightened on his hip, digging into his waist and if his hands weren’t protected by the thick gloves he wore, his claws would’ve drawn blood. Rolan clenched his hand against Dammon’s shoulder, letting the music distract him from the sudden uncomfortable feeling flooding through him. Closing his eyes, he let Dammon lead him through the dance, each twirl and sway of their bodies, each tap of their feet to the rhythm, each brush against the other’s body nothing short of intoxicating.

Rolan wanted to stay in this moment indefinitely, free of responsibility for the first time in months, with the air rushing by as he realized how much he truly did enjoy dancing. At least, he did in the arms of a man who clearly knew what he was doing.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Dammon’s question pulled Rolan from his mind. He opened his eyes to find his friend watching him intently. His eyes begged for understanding, for a chance to be vulnerable. Rolan, at least, owed him that much. “

After a beat, Dammon realized his breath, tilting his head slightly to watch out for other revelers, focusing on everything but Rolan’s face. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to see his expression at his revelation. “I didn’t believe I would survive the trip to Avernus. I’d accepted that the Hells would be my tomb. That I would never see the sky again. Never see my friends from Elturel again. But whenever Karlach or I started to doubt, the Blade of Frontiers was there filling our heads with hope.”

“That does sound like him. Irritatingly so.”

Dammon laughed, a soft sound that loosened the butterflies in his stomach and he nearly felt as if he’d be sick. “If there is one word to describe Wyll Ravengard, it is hero.”

“A hero, yes, that’s for certain.” Rolan snorted, leaning forward to glance around them. Guests were still coming and going, and would be well into the night, and for a moment he contented himself with watching the glittering jewelry and fabric, the gilded gold and gemstones, the dancing lights above. It was lovely to behold, this moment of peaceful bliss.

“Do you have an issue with heroic types, Rolan?”

The question brought his gaze back to Dammon and the smile that greeted him there. He was teasing, eyes hooded and sparkling with laughter, and they twirled again, in their own world where no one else but them existed. “Depends on the hero we’re talking about. But to answer your question. No, I don’t have an issue with them. Not anymore.”

With a shake of his head, a breathless laugh escaped his lips, but he didn’t once take his eyes from Rolan’s. “Well, that’s excellent news because I’m dancing with my hero. To be fair, I almost feel like I'm dreaming.”

Rolan might’ve scoffed if the admission didn’t shock him. “Me? A hero? I think the Hells scrambled your brain.”

Dammon rolled his eyes, but sidled closer, their bodies touching again as they danced. “You saved us in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I wouldn’t be here if not for you so… thank you.”

Rolan broke eye contact, staring at where their hands were entwined. Maybe… this was a second chance. Maybe there was more here than either of them expected. Perhaps, together, they could figure out what that was.

With a smile, he returned his gaze to Dammon, thoughts of a divine dream dancing in his head. A dream that he refused to imagine for so long that he craved it as much as he did the wine in his goblet. His hand tangled into the golden locks that brushed Dammon’s shoulders, enjoying the shiver that ran down his spine at the silkiness.

“If you’re staying in the city, I’m certain I’ll need your heroics to save me. From a stuck cork in a wine bottle, perhaps?”

Dammon laughed, the sound a balm for the soul but did little for the erratic beating of his heart in his chest. “I’m sure I can handle that.”

Yes, quite the divine dream.

#my writing #bg3 #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #wyll ravengard #karlach #wyll x karlach

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starliights-shining · 1 year

Text

Party goer.

Pairing: Jazz x reader

Warnings: NSFW, fem word uses,

A/N: this is like 4400+ words and 8 pages in my docs, ive been working on it fro the past week or so. Its not proof read, i simply just dont proof read. I've been preoccupied with RE4s remake coming out soon, but i swear im not ignoring the TF request I have, it'll just take a long time for them to come out. :) anyways enjoy!

Parties, loud music, drinking, the mixing crowd of bots and people. You didn’t really care for them, but Jazz did. When you say a lot of parties, you mean a lot of parties. Ranging from weddings, funerals, battle victories, hell even political ones, Because if Jazz got an invite, he was going with you of course. This party was different. He got his invite from Prowl, but when Jazz brought the invite to you, it said in fancy italics “No Humans!”.

“It says no human Jazz. I'm not going to some stupid party just to be denied entry or worse bullied.”

“You won’t get bullied, you’ll be with me. For the last time (Y/N)”

You were on the couch, You looked at the bot, a disappointed frown on his face plate. The invitation is gently in your grasp, its fancy English writing and other language translations.

“I don’t know that Jazz, you want me to get all dressed up just to be denied entry or be sat outside the entire time?”

You placed the invasion on the coffee table. Leaning back into the couch, you were upset. Your lover was basically asking you to get dressed and all just to be denied entry to a party, no, you will not be doing that.

“You’re acting like I'm asking you to fight in a war, I’m not.”

“You, Jazz, you're not understanding.”

You're stuttering over your words, he was upsetting you.

“I am understanding, if you don’t want to go just tell me the real reason. Is it prowl? Is there someone else you’re avoiding?”

“I don’t want to be bullied at a party for being me, that's all Jazz.”

“Cut the slag, (Y/N).”

You were taken aback, why was he so upset with you.

“You know what, yes Jazz. It’s You and Prowl”

You were now standing up, he had finally gotten the same energy match. You were pissed.

“I dont want to go to a party, where I sit in a fucking corner by myself, and watch you and Prowl get fucking drunk. I don’t want to sit outside a fucking club or god fucking knows where, while you and your shit cop buddy go inside and get fucked up and hit on. Just go by yourself.”

You walked out of the living room, hell you were tempted to go for a walk. Instead you walk straight to your room. Locking the door and just sitting on the edge of your bed. How the hell could he just yeah at you like, over not wanting to go to a party that says “No Human.”

You woke up to a knock on the door. Multiple knocking, getting up you opened the door to see Jazz, his smile not wearing as you gave him a tired look.

“You wanna get ready, and like come with us?”

You stared into his visor, until the movement of Prowl behind him caught your attention. You sighed before motioning your head for him to enter and moved towards the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, and followed you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

“Are you still mad at me?”

His question felt stupid, of course you were still mad at him. He made you feel bad, how would he feel if you made him feel like shit for following directions. You took your clothes off and stepped into the shower.

“No, just tired.”

“Tired, tired of me?”

He laughed, he was trying to lighten the mood, considering he could probably feel the heavy atmosphere.

“I guess you could say something like that.”

“Alright well, I’ll be downstairs with Prowl, we’ll leave when you're ready.”

You actually don't know why you're going, you had expressed very aggressively why you didn’t want to go. Yet, the moment Jazz asked you didn’t hesitate. He just had that effect on you, a simple command and you’d do it, but he doesn’t ever want to understand your side. The noise of Jazz laughing took you out of your thoughts, the cold nipping at your skin as you three stood in the que line to get in. You peeked around the bot in front of you to see the line, an arrangement of all all types of people, but not a single human. You straighten up, standing behind the two mechs, an uneasy feeling washed over you. You truly felt like you weren’t supposed to be here. You felt someone bump into you, turning around, you were met with an ugly look.

“Sorry, I didn’t,” “I don’t care, just watch where you’re walking.”

They had cut off your apology, completely blaming you for the encounter. The person had tried to step in front of you, assuming the line ended right after Jazz and Prowl. You stepped back in our original spot, looking up at the person and smiling.

“Sorry, I was actually here before you.”

Bring your hand up to point at the spot you were standing at, the same spot you’ve been at, right behind the two Cybertronians. Jazz turned around at the sound of your voice. Looking between you and the person.

“Is there a problem?”

He placed that ‘I’ll act nice, but am i really’ smile on his face plate. You watched as the person backed up, looking at you with an upset look before mumbling no. Jazz pulled you to stand in front of him.

“Did something happen?”

“No, he was just trying to cut in line. Probably because I was human.”

You spoke, turning around and looking forward. This was the exact reason you didn’t want to come. You weren’t even inside yet and there was already someone trying to start something. All these other space people, some of them look like humans, You can’t tell the difference unless you ask them, and even then some won’t even admit they're human.

By the time you remember what you were here for, Jaz had already gotten both you and Prowl into the party.

Jazz bends down to your head level, before speaking.

“See, we’re in. No need to worry.”

You looked at him, why the fuck would he say that. He started walking towards an empty booth, sitting you inside.

“Now, Prowl and I have some things to attend to. Stay here, if anyone asks, you're waiting for someone.”

You nod, placing your hands in your lap. Before Jazz leaves he places a kiss on your forehead, causing you to look over at him, he smiles, snaps one of his servos before pointing a finger gun at you. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, this is exactly how you thought it'd go. Being left in some strange club, while he goes off to go god fucking knows where. A waiter came up to your table asking if you wanted anything, considering you knew you’d be there for a long ass time. You ordered yourself something, anything to keep you occupied. The last thing you wanted was to think about your situation.

The waiter brought the drink out and after a few sips you just ended up swirling the liquid around. The mix of human and cybertronian alcohol mixed into a light neon blue. Maybe this was just part of the every plan, drag you out to a party and have you sit alone. You can't seem to figure out what comes after that, some random person hits on you or the Prowl keeps you company until Jazz comes back. The simple thought of having company while sitting here just kept creeping into your mind.

You were left with your own mind, something that can pull your moods up or down with just simple thinking, but considering you’ve been at this party for some time and no one seems to notice or care, it was time to just relax. You leaned back in the booth, your head resting on the stuffed leather as you closed your eyes. Pulling your drink close to you, but keeping your hand on it. You know closing your eyes in a foreign place isn’t the greatest thing to do, but who really cares, you didn’t want to come here anyways and hopefully Jazz or Prowl would return soon.

You were just getting comfortable when you felt a knock on the table. Your eyes open to see the familiar blue visor. He smiled at you before sitting around from you, a drink in hand.

“Whatcha doin?”

His tone was playful, it seems like his drink was really getting to him.

“Sitting here,”

You reply as you close your eyes again.

“I don't know, it seems like you were sleeping.”

“I was just resting my eyes.”

You lifted your hand up moving it around in front of your face in a shade gesture.

“That's bad because anyone could slip something into your drink.”

You shrugged, you knew he was right but you really didn’t want to admit he was, you were still upset at him. So instead you acted like you didn’t care.

“And then they’d kidnap you, my beautiful girlfriend.”

He was sweet talking you. He knew you were still upset at him and the thought of that simple just couldn’t exist within him. You didn’t respond, if he knew the true reason he’d recommend leaving, and you really like the drink you have and you're super comfortable.

“Now, tell me, why are your eyes closed? Is it the lights? Thinking about getting me in bed already?”

God now he was asking questions and his questions were getting out of hand, so you acted like you couldn't hear him over the loud music and chatter. You finally decided that keeping your eyes closed would mean no looking at Jazz, so you lifted your head. Making eye contact with his visor while pulling your cup up to your lips.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

You just wanted to know what he wanted, disturbing your peace in your small corner booth. He looked taken aback, he placed his free hand on his chassis and let out a dramatic gasp.

“I just wanted to see what my beautiful girlfriend was doin, am I not allowed to be with you.”

You rolled your eyes, is this really how he was trying to get on your good side?

“And now you’ve seen, Don’t you have things to attend to, like,”

You paused looking around the crowded room, your eyes scanning for anything that looked of interest or be of interest to Jazz. You saw multiple people dancing, a group of girls getting drunk and being hit on by some space robot, the DJ trying to keep up with everyone's requests, the bartender yelling at someone for hitting on her, and then your eyes landed on Prowl. The cop sat with a lady at the bar, that was your goat out, Jazz would see Prowl finally getting some and then it’d be enough to convince him to either wingman for him or leave with you. You lifted your hand with your cup in it, your index finger pointing towards the bot.

“Like Prowl, He seems to have found himself a lady.”

Jazz whips his helm around, searching the bar for the bot.

“I don’t believe it.”

He trailed off as he turned back to you. Now was the time he’s supposed to get up and go talk to them, get her to fall in love with his close friend, but for some reason, he doesn’t. He leans back into his spot in the booth, taking a sip of the drink he harbored. A sly smile on his face as he watches your face.

“Was that your plan to get rid of me?”

You sighed, downing the last bit of your drink. You shifted your position in the booth, Placing your arms on the table as you leaned in. He leans in himself, that same smile on his face. Your eyes trail from his visor to his lips and then down his chassis and finally to his servos. Your eyes flicking back up to his visor and then back to his drink. Learning a tad bit more and smiling.

“Yeah, kinda hoped it would work, maybe I could get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

You said his smile fading as he started to move back to his original position, your hands swiftly grab his cup, It being slightly larger than yours, as you bring it up to your lips, taking in the liquid. You thought it tasted ten times better then whatever the fuck you hand before.

“You little,”

he was cut off as you got up from the booth, placing the cup back on the table. Since Jazz wasn’t going to wingman for Prowl, you thought you’d do it. Walking towards the bot, you felt a pair of metal arms wrap around you .

“Where do you think you're going little miss.”

Jazz’s voice being heard a little too clearly in your ear, you giggled, leaning back into him. You moved to grab his arms.

“I wanna go tell Prowl that we’re leaving,”

You lied, the original plan being thrown out the window the moment Jazz grabbed you, the same thought about how you’d do anything for him.

He hummed his response letting god of you and settling for just holding your hand as you dragged him towards the bot. As you got closer until you got the attention of Prowl, You put on your brightest smile and gave a big wave.

“Prowl,”

You drew out his name, His optics met your eyes.

“Jazz and I are going home, I thought I’d tell you just in case you were to leave later and couldn’t find us.”

He nodded, after getting confirmation you looked towards the lady, smiling before turning back to Prowl and waving. You turned around and started to leave. Walking through the crowd of people and to the door, you could feel the occasional squeeze from his servos.

The feeling of the cold night breeze hit your face hard, shivering as Jazz moved to stand next to you while letting go of your hand. Fresh air never felt better, a deep breath coming from you, eyes closed relaxed. It seemed like the headache you had while in the building disappeared the moment you stepped outside. The noises of cars and other city noises take over your ears.

“Soo, what do you wanna do now,”

He paused, you opened your eyes to look over at him and smiled.

“I know you didn't actually want to go home, come on, you look too good to just go home.”

He moved his servos in a gesturing motion towards your outfit, yeah you did like your fit and did think it was kinda too early to go home, but you didn’t need him to know that.

“We could just go for a walk, see what we see.”

You suggested, bringing your hands up to the sides of your arms, the chill of the air seeping to your bones. You started in a direction, the bot following behind you. You could hear the sound of whirling from his intake.

“Got anywhere special you wanna go?”

He moved up to walk next to you, a smile on his face plate as he analyzed your reaction. The city was large, and you could practically go anywhere you wanted. So you thought, trying to come up with something cool other than just going home. Cool, something cool for Jazz to enjoy. He could just enjoy your company, but the idea of a walk didn’t really seem to interest him whatsoever.

“It's okay if you don't have anything to do. I already dragged you to that party,”

He paused, he was thinking, your eyes met with his visor. Your reflection looking back at you in the shiny blue material. At that moment, you thought you could look at yourself for the rest of your life through that visor, a visor brighter than the blue sky. You didn’t practically like looking at yourself, but this time, you thought you could do it for hours on end. Your eyes trail down to his lips for a split second before looking back at his visor. The cold air seemed to hit your body differently at that moment, almost lighting a fire of lust within you.

“Hello, (Y/N)? Y’a there!”

Jazz moved his servo in front of your face, breaking you from your trance. Your hands came up to your mouth in a cupping motion as you blew hot air into them, a desperate attempt to warm up. You could just take one and tell him you’d like to go home, but who knows what’d go down if you both went home with the amount of alcohol in your systems. Maybe that’s what made going home so exciting, the thought of desire and being under the bot you so desperately love.

“I’d like to go home, it’s getting colder and I didn’t dress for it.”

You stated, the idea to cover the real reason for going home with freezing being the only thing keeping you going.

You both arrive at your house, the bot standing behind you while you fiddled with your keys to get the door unlocked. You opened the door to be met with the warmth of your home and its familiar comforting smell. The sigh coming from you is a signal of home. You had walked further into your home, forgetting about the bot who was behind you. You just wanted out of your clothes, the redistricting fabric from the dress and the heels you wore that was making it feel like you were walking on pins and needles.

When Jazz looked up from closing the door you were gone, the faint noise of your heels going up the carpeted stairs .

“Slow down, pretty girl.”

He called out, as he started following you. It didn’t take long for him to catch up, walking into your bedroom to see you standing next to the bed, one hand placed on the mattress and slightly bent over as your other hand reached for your heel that was kicked up. He leaned against the door frame watching you, arms crossed over his chassis.

Once you got your heels off you dug your feet into the carpet, the feeling getting you to sigh in relief, no more heels. Both of your hands were now planted on the bed and your head hanging down, all you needed was to get your dress off and then get a warm bath and your night would be complete. Complete? I’d be complete if you could get Jazz on top of you. Your thoughts were cut short when you felt a pair of servos on your waist, his digits playing with the fabric of your dress.

“You look too good in this dress, just for it to go to waste. Don't you think so?”

You could feel him pulling you into him, your back meeting his chassis as his helm rested on your shoulder. You’d be lying if you didn’t agree with him, you looked too damn good in your dress just to give it up in a matter of seconds. His servo was traveling downwards, stopping at the hem of the dress. He took a deep breath in, his servos playing with the end of your dress.

“I’ve thought about you in this dress since we left.”

His servo moved to your inner thigh, and moved upwards towards your panties. A whimper left your mouth, his digits started to move from your clit to your entrance, he wasn't even in your panties yet.

“Yet, I still don't know how i want to fuck you.”

The dirty talk was getting to you, fueling the fire of desire and want within you, and with how close to your pussy he was, it was getting hard to stay patient. HIs digits moved the fabric of your panties aside, his digits circling your clit and occasionally going down to circle your entrance. A moan leaving your mouth, he was picking speed up and then slowing down in a steady pattern. If he kept this up, you’d be a moaning mess by the end of the night.

“That feel good, enjoying yourself baby?”

He spoke in a mocking tone. Of course it felt good, but you weren’t going to tell him that. He finally fully put his digits in you, rubbing against your walls before deciding to go in a scissoring motion. There was no more holding back, your head leaned back against his shoulder plating, and you did not stop moaning.

“Yeah,”

He paused, taking a moment to fully enjoy the sounds you were making, and change his pattern fingering.

“I’d say you're enjoying it a little too much, it's gettin’ a little too tight. Getting close aren't ya.”

All you could do in that moment was nod and whine out his name. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“Yeah, let's speed this up.”

His servo on your waist goes to circle your clit, you were already trying to last longer then you wanted, but you guess that is out of the window now. The sensation from his digits in you and circling your clit was getting to much, your hands came up to grab his helm

“Jazz, please.”

You were able to get out in between moans and whines. The knot was going to break any second now, and you wanted to be vocal about it.

“Yeah, come baby.”

You did just that, came all over his digits. His pace not once slowing or stopping, a steady pace as you rode your high out on his servo. Wiggling and grinding your hips into that same servo in an attempt to keep the high longer.

“Don't worry, I’m not done just yet.”

He moves to help you out of the dress straps and moves it down below your breast, servos moving to play with the flesh, pitching one nipple and rolling the other with his digits. A sharp gasp came from you, He pulled you into him, this time it was more aggressive as he littered your neck and jaw with kisses.

“You're so pretty, you know that.”

He lets go of you and pushes you face first into the mattress.

“Pretty enough to take my spike.”

The sound of his shuffling around behind, as you took your panties off and hiked you dress up above your hips, why not give him better access. He smacks his spike against your pussy, causing you to let out a dreamy sigh. After that he didn't waste any time, pushing his spike straight into you. His servos are going to grab your hips immediately after, his grip tighter than any other time. His pace was steady, he occasionally flexed his digits. He let out a few grunts here and there, but nothing was louder than your moans.

“Primus, you take my spike so good.”

You felt your walls clench down on his spike, now he really knew what dirty talk did to you. His servo came down with a smack, the noise jolting you from your haze, his pace picked up, and a loud groan came from him.

“Yeah, keep that up baby. You might get me to come first.”

He lifted your hips up and fucked into you, his grip brusing the soft skin. You knew there'd be some sort of imprint tomorrow. His spike felt like it was kissing the knot forming. You guessed his grip on your hips wasn't enough, because he had now moved one of his servos to grab the dress, bunching it up in his hand and holding onto it like he was in a rodeo and fucking into your pussy, and god you were enjoying it. Every little noise coming from you sounded like you were in a porno.

“Yeah, you like that pretty girl.”

His pace quickening, you felt like you were going to crumble, once that knot snapps you’d be no more, and that time was coming quicker and quicker by the second. You whined to jazz, he whined back at you.

“What is it, you're gonna come?”

He knew he was making you feel good, because god you were making him feel good. You nodded the best you can through the movement from his pounding.

“Oh primus, I love how you can’t control yourself,”

His free servo coming down on your ass, that signature smack. He enjoyed watching the way your ass jiggled from the hit, he liked watching just like your boobs, the way they both jiggle, but more importantly the way he saw your skin move like waves when he brought your hips into his. God not only was your pussy intoxicating to him your entire being was intoxicating. You smile, the way you hand fit in his, your kisses, the simple way you looked at him, it was like watching you fall in love with him every time. You were far too intoxicating, just like his own brand and he just couldn't get enough.

“If you wanna cum, I’ll let you, just one request.”

Your arms are stretched in front of you on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath them.

“Anything, I’ll do anything,”

You were practically moaning out your response, you’d simply do anything to come, to feel the warm welcome of hot desire.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

His free servo was now gripping your waist, pulling your hips to meet his thrusts every time. His grunts were starting to be more consistent, he was close. Far closer than you thought he’d be. You thought about his request, any other time you wouldn’t even think twice to say it. You thought about it like your life depended on it, but you really didn’t care. He's yours right now, not buried in someone else right now, he was buried deep in you, and that was simply all you needed to know.

“You, I belong to you Jazz.”

You grip on the sheets tightening.

“Come on, keep it up. Gotta have everyone hear this. Can’t have anyone trying to take you now.”

His servo let go of the dress now both on your hips, as he was hunched over, Spike going in and out with lewd noises as you both almost went over the edge.

"Yours, I'm yours jazz.”

You were almost not able to get your words out, you let out a few more moans before you crumbled, the last moan being dragged out as Jazz released into you. He let out a groan, thrusting his hips into you a few more times before stopping. The only thing heard within your bedroom was both you and Jazz trying to catch your breaths.

��You're always so good.”

You laughed, taking your time to recollect yourself before speaking.

“Of course, You’re all I ever wanted.”

#transformers g1 #transformers #transformers jazz #tf x reader #transformers x reader #tf jazz #tf jazz x reader #jazz x reader #prowl #tf prowl #transformers prowl #tf g1 #transformer mtmte #prowl x reader #prowl x jazz #stars writings

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iolaussharpe-24 · 2 months

Text

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Chapter One

Shoutouts to both @reallyrallyauthor and @redeyerhaenyra who are both my biggest inspirations for this. I've been working on this for a while and this was like my fourth or fifth draft, each with a different plot. I'm still not confident in it, but I'm hoping to improve my writing so that I can make the novel I'm writing extra special because that project is my baby and I want it to do well. (Grace Smith is my OC. She was inspired by Samara Weaving after I watched Ready or Not. Yes, there were drafts of this story where it was a crossover fic between Big Gold Brick and Ready or Not. No, I am not doing that anymore.)

Story part under the cut. I made the collage myself on Microsoft Word. It's a screenshot so it's a little blurry. Cross posted on my Wattpad page.

“Come in; but hurry the fuck up with it!” came Anselm’s voice from the other side of the door. He sounded breathless and his voice had been strained. Close to climax. Any idiot could tell that fact.

Despite his many different physical limitations, (his age, his breathing problems, and his bad leg, for example) Anselm Vogelweide had an impressively high libido and was frequently seen around his mansion with various people to have sex. While she hadn’t been someone unfortunate enough to walk in on him in a situation like that before now, Grace had seen people leave his bedroom or his office with messy hair or makeup while being half dressed and proudly wearing hickies and love bites on their throats, collarbones, and shoulders.

So, she kept her head down as she entered the office. Her eyes were focused on the silver tray in her hands and her own two feet while she walked. Judging by the sounds she could hear, they were on the desk. Going at each other like rabbits in heat. Today’s “companion” was a woman. A very vocal woman who moaned like an amateur pornstar. Charming.

She turned to the side table and set up the things she brought in quickly. A bit of cocaine, two glasses, a bottle of unopened champagne, and a stack of money delivered by an associate who’d recently lost an impressive bet. She didn’t know the details, just that it was some high school game. Soccer or volleyball or something. A girl’s game. The associate had made a comment about ‘tender young players’ that made the poor worker’s skin crawl. It was disgust-

“GRACE!”

Immediately, she looked up, having been caught off guard by the sound of Mr. Vogelweide’s strained voice calling out her name. A lesson that everyone who worked for him learned in their first five minutes was the need to constantly please. Keep him happy. Do as your told when you’re told, and no one gets shot. However…. She regretted that decision immediately.

Mr. Vogelweide was pounding into a fair skinned woman bent over his desk from behind. One of his hands was on her back, keeping her in place while the other hand was on her face, two of his scarred fingers shoved deep inside her mouth.

She was a lean woman, only a little bit heavier than Grace was. She had long blonde hair that looked like it had been flat ironed recently. It was a little frizzy at the ends. On top of being messy from sex.

As Grace watched them, she noticed that the woman was wearing a bright candy apple red lipstick – the same shade Grace herself was wearing – and her nails were painted a glossy black. She had a dark smokey eye that made the cyan blue of her irises pop even as she was being reduced to a blubbering, drooling, teary-eyed mess on the desk.

It was an… unsettling sight. The woman under Mr. Vogelweide looked a lot like Grace. A lot like her. The hair, the eye color, the shape of her body, the color of her skin, right down to the makeup she was wearing. It was a little eerie in a way. If she didn’t stare too hard – if she didn’t focus on the other woman’s thin lips or the almond shape of her eyes, or her square jaw – if she just watched them like she would anything else, it was like a peculiar out-of-body-experience.

Normally, (as odd as that word sounded in this context) Grace would have written off all of the similarities as a coincidence and walked away. Honestly, she should have walked away anyway. But there was one detail that, when paired with all the rest, she simply couldn’t ignore. One damning piece of evidence that sent a chill up her spine.

There was a beauty mark on the woman’s cheek. Left side. Half an inch under the eye. Right on her cheekbone. Too conveniently placed to be real. Granted, it didn’t look real. It didn’t even look like makeup. It looked like a dot sloppily drawn on with a Sharpie.

It wasn’t a coincidence that the woman looked like Grace. It couldn’t be. Not to that extent. The odds had to be a million to one on that. (Well, maybe not a million to one. After all, skinny blue-eyed blondes are a dime a dozen. But, for her to be wearing that color lipstick, for her to have that nail polish, the fake mole on that specific spot on her face, for Mr. Vogelweide to be screwing her, and for him to call out ‘Grace’ as he did, that was where things crossed the line and the possibility of a coincidence went straight out the window.)

Grace was staring at her own doppelganger as her boss fucked her.

She stood there, dumbfounded, unable to fully comprehend the sight. The woman was bent over, her dress unzipped in the back to expose her skin, the skirt bunched up around her waist so that Mr. Vogelweide had access to her sex. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess and her lipstick was smudged as she sucked and slobbered on his fingers.

God, even her age… she looked like she was only a little bit older than Grace. A few years at most. Anselm had to be somewhere in his fifties or so. This woman looked about thirty. And she was drooling on the polished surface of the desk, moaning wantonly. All while the man, with his pants down around his knees, pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her cunt rapidly; the wet slapping out of skin on skin filling the room alongside their ecstatic moans and grunts.

It was such an odd sight. She might have found it arousing if she had a mind even half as perverted as his. But, thankfully, she didn’t. There wasn’t a person alive in any place or time who was as strange as Anselm Vogelweide. He was incomparable. He was insatiable. He was… insane. Some people would argue that that was part of his strangely addicting charm. That it was the reason why so many people kept coming back to this mansion. To his business. To him.

Sometimes she wondered if she was the only sane person in his weird little world. The only one who would see him like this and recognize it as the incredibly disturbing thing that it really was.

Though Grace had never understood why, she was more than aware of the fact that everyone else on staff assumed that she was Mr. Vogelweide’s favorite. From the other maids, to the kitchen staff, to the gardener, to the bodyguards and drivers, all the way down to the pool boy. They all gossiped about her to one another. They all told each other that she had gained the boss’s favor by sleeping with him. That’s how the pool boy, Óscar, did it. Back when he was the obvious favorite who spent most of his nights in Mr. Vogelweide’s bed.

It was at this moment that the older man seemed to realize that he and his toy had an audience. He kept his gaze locked on the other woman’s face; watching as her blue eyes rolled back from pleasure while she moaned pathetically and desperately suckled on his fingers.

“I thought I told you to be quick and leave, you fucking- ” His voice trailed off as he finally lifted his head and saw Grace standing in front of him. He stopped his thrusting and stared at her. From behind the yellow lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes roamed her slender figure.

Grace averted her eyes from him, just to avoid having to face… whatever this was. “I’ll just go,” she said quickly, bowing her head and turning to leave the room. She walked quickly, praying that the semi-automatic couldn’t come out behind her back. Or the pistol. Or the shotgun. Or any gun in his massive collection. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was for her employer to blow her head off or something. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that. She would know. It was her job to clean the blood out of the carpets and off the walls before they stained.

“Stay.”

She paused but didn’t turn around. That was the one word she feared hearing in this situation. The one thing she didn’t want to do. Staying wasn’t an option for her. Staying at this point meant something and she didn’t want to know what. But the possibilities of what it could be made her blood freeze and her heart pound.

“Ms. Quinn was just leaving,” Mr. Vogelweide said as he pulled away from the blonde woman on his desk. He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. Then, he sat down and began to buckle up his leg brace. It was incredibly old. Probably older than him. The metal rod didn’t look like it was rusted, but it squeaked loudly whenever he walked. Well, whenever he tried to walk would be a bit more accurate. The brace, because of how it held his leg from his groin all the way down to is foot.

Grace glanced over her shoulder and saw that the other woman, Annie, hadn’t moved yet. She was still bent over the desk. Her legs were still spread wide. The back of her dress was open and the skirt was bunched up around her hips. She was breathing hard, hard enough to rival even one of Mr. Vogelweide’s asthma attacks.

She lifted her head and looked at Mr. Vogelweide, clearly disappointed in this turn of events. “Wait,” she started, before being abruptly cut off by him.

“You can go now. I want a private word with Ms. Smith.”

‘Ms. Quinn’ lifted herself up into a semi-standing position, her eyes still on him. “But… I didn’t-”

Again, he cut her off. “You have your hands. I’m sure you have toys. I don’t care how you do it or where. Just get out of my house first.”

Grace watched as her doppelganger stood up the rest of the way and pulled down her skirt to try and hide the wetness running from between her thighs. She was clutching her chest with one hand to keep her open dress from falling off her shoulders. Her knees wobbled a bit as she stood up straight. When she walked, she kept her legs apart and limped slightly. She walked to the door, then paused when she saw Grace.

For a brief moment, the two women’s eyes met. Grace’s sapphire blue orbs and Quinn’s cyan blue ones. They stared at each other, seeing all the similarities between themselves. Grace watched, almost in slow motion, as Quinn realized what she had been doing.

Just before she exited the office, she reached up and touched the fake mole on her cheek. The spot that perfectly mirrored Grace’s natural beauty mark.

The last Grace saw of Quinn was her shocked expression. Wide eyes and parted lips. Hand on her cheek. Then the door closed. She was gone.

Grace was alone with Mr. Vogelweide.

The poor girl kept her eyes faced forward, staring at the door. She wanted to go. She wanted to run and hide from the topsy-turvy, boss-wants-to-fuck-the-maid, trashy porno scenario that she’d suddenly found herself thrust into. (Pun not intended.)

She swallowed hard, trying to gather whatever shreds of courage and dignity she had left and said, in an attempt to excuse herself despite his wishes, “I’m sorry, Mr. Vogelweide, I should have-”

He cut her off just like he done to the other woman. “I’d have asked you to watch if I thought it would make you wet.” Grace stiffened when she realized that he was standing directly behind her, whispering into her ear. He reached around and touched her face with his scarred left hand. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb then gently turned her head so that she’d look at him.

“Why?” she asked. Though, she couldn’t figure out what she was asking about. Why was he touching her? Why would he say that? Why was he fucking her doppelganger? Why hasn’t she run away yet? She wasn’t sure, but she’d take whatever answer he gave her at this point because it honestly felt like someone took a whisk and scrambled her brain into a thick pink paste as it sat in her skull.

“Because you’re my favorite. You’re like a delicate flower. Beautiful and fragrant. All I want to do is pluck you from the ground and keep you with me.”

His fingers trailed down to her throat before wrapping around it. Instinctively, her head tilted back a bit and she held her breath. His grip was firm but not tight by any means. He wasn’t squeezing her, he wasn’t even trying to make her think that he would, but she knew that he could apply that pressure at any moment. The fact that just one of his hands was large enough to encompass so much of her neck. She could feel her pulse pounding against his fingers as they lay over her jugular veins.

“If I weren’t such an empathetic person, I might be tempted to take you by force. If you were not so good to me, I would.” He gently pulled her to bend backwards a bit, her back arched and head tilted back and to side. She stared at him as he forced her to lean against and rest her head on his shoulder. He stared back at her; the foggy yellow lenses of his glasses made his already dark eyes seem nearly black in color. His graying beard tickled the skin across her cheek and jaw as he smiled.

“Mr. Vogelweide,” she started to plead before being cut off again.

“Anselm, dear. Don’t be afraid to use my first name.”

“Ah… Anselm…” she said hesitantly, still staring into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Óscar was always your favorite. He’s very proud of that fact.”

Mr. Vogelweide actually laughed at that. “I’m sure he is. Óscar is a puppy chasing cars he can never catch. Give him an inch and he’ll run a mile never realizing that he’s in a hamster wheel. He wasn’t my favorite anything. He was entertaining. You are different from him. You aren’t entertaining. At all. You’re quite dull, in fact. I’ve seen you in your spare time. Always reading. And it’s always the same cheap, sexless paperbacks. You’re boring and yet that’s the very thing that makes you so enticing to me. Despite everything that happens in this house, you remain pure and untarnished by both it and me.”

He leaned closer so that he could whisper in her ear, his voice practically dripping with seductive intent. He already had an oddly sensual quality to it. There was something about the odd mix between his German accent and a subtle lisp that could capture and hold anyone’s attention. It didn’t matter what he was saying. He could drone on and on about absolute nonsense and it would hold the attention of an audience. Mostly because his voice was just that enchanting; almost like a siren song. Partly because ignoring him would be a death wish granted in a split second by a hail of gunfire from the semi-automatic hidden in his desk.

He moved his body slightly so that she could feel the hard bulge of his still erect cock as it throbbed against her ass. She screwed her eyes shut at the feeling, trying hard not to focus on it.

“Part of me wants to break you. To pick the flower from the ground and pluck away the petals until there’s nothing left but the pistil. I want to bend you over and ravish you until you can’t take it anymore,” he said, practically moaning out the words like he was on the verge of orgasm from the thought alone.

For a moment, not even a fraction of a second, Mr. Vogelweide’s grip on Grace’s throat tightened. She drew in a sharp gasp as his fingers dug into her soft skin.

Then it was over. He released his hold entirely and walked away, his leg brace softly squeaking with every other step he took. Grace turned fully to stare at the boss as he moved away from her. She wasn’t sure how to process any of this. And his explanations only muddied already murky water.

He was across the room, staring out the window, his hands clasped together behind his back. Despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Grace stepped closer to him and looked out the window as well. Óscar was outside cleaning the pool. He looked up at the office window, a smile on his face, and gave a flirty little wave. He blew a kiss up to Mr. Vogelweide before setting back to work, moving a little more sensually than necessary. Putting on a little show.

“If you knew half of the half of the nasty things I’ve done to that boy you wouldn’t be standing so close,” Mr. Vogelweide said, his voice lowered for a moment on the word ‘nasty,’ while his lisp dragged out the ‘s’ in the middle. It stood out and caught Grace’s attention more than the rest of the sentence had. It tickled her curiosity and sparked her imagination to try and picture the two men together. The young pool boy and the older mob boss that signed his paychecks in the blood of his own cousins.

Óscar was the kind of person who lived for others. The embodiment of an almost self-destructive people pleaser. He was a lemming in the worst way who would stand on the edge of a cliff and backflip off of it if someone told him to. Well, maybe not just any old ‘someone.’ He wouldn’t waste himself on someone he didn’t feel was worth it.

Anselm Vogelweide wasn’t like anyone else in the world. He was strange and alluring. Everything about him screamed danger. Especially to people like Grace and Óscar. The people that worked for him and lived near him. The people who saw, on a daily basis, exactly who he really was. Not that ever made an effort to hide.

He had things hidden all around the house. Things that Grace often found on accident while cleaning. Toys; both new and used. Suspicious stains that smelled old and sour. Books with dirty titles and dirtier pictures. She could only imagine what he did to the people that had sex with him. She had her theories, everyone did, but something about his words made her think that the speculations paled in comparison to the truth.

“Sir, I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this.”

“I told you, child; you’re my favorite.” He turned away from the window to face Grace again. Startled, she automatically backed away from him. He followed; though his movements were slow and awkward, that didn’t stop her from being intimidated by him. She didn’t focus on the way his brace made it impossible for him to bend his left knee, making him hobble. She didn’t focus on the way the brace squeaked every time he lifted his leg to take a step. She focused on his eyes. On the darkness and hunger in them. She felt like prey under the searing gaze of a predator.

In the question of fight or flight, Grace liked to pretend that she’d stand up and face her fears head on. She wore a brave face in casual conversations about hypothetical situations that were never likely to happen. She’d imagine herself as a gun-toting badass in the face of a zombie apocalypse or a strong survivor in the face of an attack in a dark alley. She’d taken self defense classes. She kept pepper spray in her purse. She wore a ring knife.

Theoretically speaking, she could protect herself if she needed to.

Empasis on the word “could.”

She could do a lot of things. She could be a novelist. She could become a rocket scientist. She could marry a tech billionaire. She could do any of those things. They just weren’t likely to happen.

She didn’t know the first thing about writing a novel. She was terrible at math. And there was nothing significant about her in the slightest that would ever put her in the same room as a tech billionaire, let alone marry one.

The reality was that she wasn’t the brave warrior she liked to imagine herself as. In the question of fight or flight, Grace would always fawn.

She’d try to run first. Then, as her fears grew and her heart started to pound, she’d start to freeze up. Then, as things only seemed to be getting worse and worse and her pulse threatened to send her into cardiac arrest, she’d give in and let the nightmare consume her.

And that’s exactly what she did in Mr. Vogelweide’s office. After taking only a few steps away from him, she gripped the edge of his desk and froze, her eyes fixed on his body as he continued to advance on her. When he was near enough, when he was directly in front of her, gripping the polished wood on either side of her slender frame, she felt herself give in. She could try to tell herself that she was just putting more distance between the two of them, but she wasn’t. She was surrendering. She bent over backwards and let him hover above her.

Mr. Vogelweide seemed to realize this fact. He stared down at her, a smile playing across his lips. He leaned down so that his face was just above hers. Their noses were a hair’s width away from brushing against each other.

“Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to claim you?” he whispered in that same attention-grabbingly sensual tone. “Do you have any idea how tempting that idea is?”

As he spoke, Anselm ran one of his hands up the length of Grace’s body. He started at her navel and lightly slid his hand up to her chest, over the mound of her left breast, across her collarbone, and up the side of her neck to her cheek. He rested his palm on the side of her head for a moment. Ran his fingers through her soft blonde locks.

Her heart was pounding in her throat as she stared up at him. She was breathing heavily beneath him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Shush,” he murmured, grabbing her jaw with his thumb and first two fingers. Like his earlier grip on her throat, he was holding her just tight enough for her to feel it without coming anywhere near actually hurting her. He lifted her head and looked down at her lips. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t hurt you. I’d never dream of it.”

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Grace’s eyes widened and a high-pitched whimper escaped her. He pressed his body against hers; squishing her down onto the desk. She felt his tongue slide across her teeth for a moment before he squeezed her face just tight enough to make her open her mouth to him. She let out another, louder, whimper as his tongue entered her mouth to circle and swirl around hers.

It took him a long time, but he did finally pull away from her mouth. He released her jaw and stood up straight, adjusting his suit and tie. Suddenly, he was back to his usual self. Cool and unbothered by the world around him.

“That’ll be all, Ms. Smith; thank you.”

That was it? He’d had sex with a doppelgänger, told Grace he only did it because he wanted her, kissed her, and then did nothing else? He was just going to dismiss her without another word?

Wait… why was she even asking herself that?! She didn’t want or expect any of this. It was thrust on her in a moment that she wasn’t even supposed to see. She didn’t know how to deal with any of this. She didn’t know if she was supposed to get up or stay where she was. Hell, she didn’t even know if she’d still have a job after this.

Mr. Vogelweide started to walk away, then paused. He turned to face Grace again and said, “Oh, before I forget, would you be so kind as to clean up in here? I’m afraid Ms. Quinn made quiet the mess on the other side of the desk and I have a meeting in half an hour. You might need to come back to clean up afterwards. I’d like to avoid it, but there may be blood in the rug before the hour is over.”

She looked at the other side of the desk. Where he’d had the look-alike bent over so he could fuck her brains out and pretend she was Grace. There was a wet spot on the polish. It smelled like sweat and… ugh… old fish. The lingering residue of a shamelessly wet pussy.

Back to business as usual then.

Grace stood from the desk and nodded her head. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“One other thing,” Anselm said as he watched her. “I want you to know that, on the off chance you ever change your mind, you need only to knock.”

“Knock?”

“On my door. The day you decide to me mine, I want to take you in the bedroom. Mine. Not yours. There are… things I’d like to try. Harnesses I’d like to see your body in. Toys I want to put inside you.” His dark eyes moved up and down her body at an agonizingly slow pace. Grace was fully dressed; wearing leggings, a knee-length dress, and a small sweater with sleeves that came down to her elbows. She wasn’t showing any skin that she shouldn’t be. Nothing more than her forearms. And it wasn’t even that the neckline of her dress was low either. It sat right on her collarbones. Yet she felt naked the longer he stared. Like he was peeling off her clothes with his imagination.

This is sexual harassment isn’t it? This was the kind of behavior that got the #MeToo movement started. Back when protecting victims actually meant something to people. She could quit for this, right? Wait… no. No. That was a bad idea. If this were a normal job for a normal person, she wouldn’t even consider it. She’d leave.

But he wasn’t a normal person.

This wasn’t a normal job.

She spent her time cleaning blood out of Anselm Vogelweide’s carpet and cum off of the furniture and walls. Everything in his house was about money and sex. People died here. On a regular basis. There were guns and bottles of lube in every room.

She knew too much about him. There was no leaving. There was only dismissal. And that would likely mean a hail of gunfire that would cut her life short in the living room before his massive bodyguards took her away to some place where she’d never be found again.

All because she caught his eye.

#anselm vogelweide #anselm/oc

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skrunklybf-archived · 2 years

Note

Hello again Rory!

Since your requests are open for Obey me today, I was thinking about Dom Lucifer and…

❛ i’ve been thinking long and hard about what i wanna do with you tonight. ❜

And/or

“All my thoughts about you are improper”

I would be a complete slave for that demon I’d let him do anything to me

"𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛…" *ೃ༄ 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚛 -- 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚎

suggestive themes, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light choking, marking/biting, mention of blood, possessiveness, praise

acquiring a moment with lucifer was a lot tougher than you imagined. he's a busy demon, most often buried to the neck in some business or another; but if mammon taught you anything about getting what you want, it's that there's almost always a way through, even if you have to be somewhat... disingenuous.

"if you needed to speak with me in person, we could have spoken before or after dinner." lucifer said evenly, his ruby gaze caught on the work littering his desk. he didn't look up when you entered, didn't offer a greeting, though he had to have known you were standing there, waiting for one. always so polite -- such a stark contrast from his rather chaotic brothers. "not that i'm not glad to see you," he continued, dotting one more period on the page, "but your message sounded urgent. you can always pull me aside if you need something."

your throat worked extra hard to swallow the lump in it. "i know. i just... wanted to talk in private. it's kind of hard to get some time alone, y'know?" his stare made you squirm. the pen in his hand suddenly poofed away into a fit of smoke. lucifer leaned back in his chair, crossed a leg over his knee, and held his chin in his hand. he looked relaxed, strangely enough, with a smooth grin stretching over his face. a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes for a fleeting moment.

"i agree. well, you have me all to yourself for the time being. what did you need to talk about?"

it was like he was taunting you. could he read your mind? see through your rather flimsy excuse to slip into his bedroom at night? the thought made you sweat.

"i-- um..."

your brain short circuited. it continued its inconvenient strike even as lucifer arched a brow in your direction. he had yet to break his gaze, even as he stood and strode through the distance to you.

"are you feeling well?" he smoothed. you had to tilt your head back to watch his face, those sharp features extra striking up close. he held the top of his wrist against your forehead, also choosing to cradle your cheek in the other hand. "hm. you're a little warm, though i don't think it's due to an illness." there was some sense of satisfaction in the way he devoured you simply through a stare. it took everything not to utterly melt into the hold he had on you.

"no," you admitted, feeling rather airheaded, "i'm not sick. i just... wanted to spend time with you." his proximity brought his scent -- something you wished you were used to.

lucifer hummed. he fanned his thumb over your cheek, staring down at you with such a wolfish smile. "i see. and without my brothers to... interrupt?"

you squirmed a bit on your feet. the slight tickle of embarrassment lapped inside your chest, against your cheeks, even the tips of your ears. "yes." you said. "i... um, i've been thinking," you began, breath catching once lucifer began to lean himself down toward you. instinct made you back up -- just a few steps, until your back was against the closed bedroom door. lucifer, of course, followed, keeping that hold against your jaw. the other palm laid against the door, nearly caging you in place before him. his face dipped into the space between your neck and shoulder. hot breath fanned over your skin.

"go on," he mumbled, pressing the lightest kiss behind your ear. an involuntary shiver shook through you. "you've been thinking...?"

"yes. um... i've been thinking, a lot, about you."

"is that so?"

lucifer moved down to your neck, applying just slightly more pressure. his hand mirrored his lips, wrapping around the side of your throat, pressing down just enough to feel its presence. you're certain he could hear you swallow down your nerves.

"tell me, what are your thoughts about me like?" the demon grumbled into your ear, all but forcing your eyes to squeeze shut as you struggled to catch your breath and sense. his body pressed against you, strong and solid. he nudged his knee between your legs, earning a sharp gasp and your hands gripping against his forearms. you didn't want him to stop, couldn't imagine pushing him away -- you simply needed to ground yourself in this hazy moment. "i can tell you, all of my thoughts about you are... improper."

you whimpered. lucifer squeezed around the column of your throat. he slipped his lips across your blazing cheek, hovering just above your own mouth, slightly agape in awe.

"now, tell me what you really want," he said, barely louder than a whisper, "or you get nothing at all."

pressure leaning up against your center, squished between your own plump thighs, nearly forced another whine out of you. it was like your body took over for the lack of brain power, because before you could stop them, your hips began to swivel, seeking more contact against your core. the hand gripping you tightened just for a moment -- a warning -- and lucifer sucked his teeth above you. "i said, tell me what you want. or you get nothing."

cruelly, but not unexpectedly, lucifer pulled his knee away. cool air replaced his warmth, making you acutely aware of how wet you were getting beneath your sleep shorts.

"i want you." you squeaked, sounding quite desperate, "i-i want you, lucifer."

"very good. and what do you want me to do, darling?" he brushed his thumb up and down the center of your throat, almost as if he were trying to physically coax the words out of you.

you were glad to have your eyes closed, thankful to avoid his stare as you swallowed your shame. "i want you to fuck me."

the avatar of pride chuckled before you. the miniscule space between your lips never felt so expansive. "such a filthy mouth." he muttered, sounding pleased. the hand on you shifted back to grip against the base of your head, buried to the root. the slight sting mixed strangely with a sense of pleasure, scrounging up a surprised little moan from your throat. "i can't say i'm surprised. i've seen the way you look at me, when you think nobody is watching," lucifer teetered your head back even farther, all but forcing you to peel your eyes open to look at him. self satisfaction and confidence oozed from his features, inches away from you. "you have my brothers stumbling all over you, but all you want is right... here," instead of your lips, lucifer attached himself to your neck again, but with much more force -- and teeth. you winced as he bit down, a jolt of pain rushing to your brain, and surprisingly enough, down into your panties. a low moan slipped from your lips as he sucked against your skin.

it felt like an eternity before lucifer pulled himself away. surely he'd broken skin, and surely he'd lapped up the blood that seeped out; you spied him licking his lips before he planted them over your own. the taste of your blood shifted him into another gear. he moved his hands down to grip against the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. you were stuck between a rock and a hard place: the door, and lucifer himself. your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he kissed you with so much force your teeth clacked against each other.

fingers gripped and grabbed at the fat of your thighs. "you want me to take you?" he grumbled into your mouth, "i'll mark you. make sure nobody can get near you without knowing what i've done to you." his tone grew even more rough around the edges as you gyrated your hips, pelvis to pelvis with the avatar of pride himself. "make sure i show you all of my most improper thoughts."

#i need him #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer obey me #lucifer om

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anghraine · 4 months

Text

Fic author interview (meme)

I was tagged by @incognitajones! Thank you very much <3

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

222, though some are very closely interconnected.

2- What's your total AO3 word count?

1,193,545, says the AO3 statistics page!

o_O

3- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

LOL, I had just automatically rearranged my stats graph to rank fics by kudos instead of hits. It's:

Season of Courtship (inevitably), a Darcy/Elizabeth canon-compliant engagement interquel I wrote as a teenager;

But Thou Didst Not Leave His Soul In Hell (always a pleasant surprise), a short AU in which Luke convinces Anakin/Vader to flee the Empire with him;

per ardua ad astra, a Rogue One+ANH Jyn/Cassian AU in which Jyn, Cassian, and Bodhi escape Scarif only to get trapped on the Death Star and forced to pass themselves off as Imperials;

we get dark, only to shine, a longggg yet unfinished AU of The Borgias in which Cesare and Lucrezia begin their affair during S1 instead of S3 (CW for canon sibling incest, murder, etc).

Contradictions and Varieties (baffling), a short Darcy/Elizabeth AU I wrote for a fest in which it takes them slightly longer to get together.

4- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try, especially with fics I'm actively updating, but I'm always behind on it. I mostly just get distracted and forget.

5- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, interesting question! I don't write a lot of angsty endings, but there are a few options, and I think it probably would have to be the gift of men, a short (~1k) Fourth Age fic in which Eldarion goes along with a politically convenient marriage to one of Faramir and Éowyn's daughters, and falls in love with her, only for her to die of old age while Aragorn and Faramir are still alive and Eldarion remains young.

Honorable mentions: Set On This Path (Luke and Leia are brought up in the Empire + fusion with the story of the bloodbending brothers in B1 of Legend of Korra, complete with murder-suicide) and the last day (a chirpy epistolary fic that takes an abrupt turn after the genocidal attack that begins the Guild Wars games).

6- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Um, just considering the ones that have endings, to be fair, and ... hmm, that's harder. A lot of happy endings! Probably the ones that are happiest for me, personally, are First Impressions (m!Elizabeth/f!Darcy re-telling of P&P) and whatever we deny or embrace (f!Cassian/Jyn).

7- Do you write crossovers?

Not often, but sometimes! Like now.

8- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes! I've gotten hate more than once wrt Season of Courtship in various versions (even before it become so overwhelmingly the popular favorite of my fics). The rest has been on other fics and mostly on ff.net.

TBH the subtler stuff bothers me more than outright hate (corrections based on adaptations or fanon or expanded universe material I already said I wasn't using, concern that I might switch permanently to a new format I'm trying out, etc).

9- Do you write smut?

Very rarely. I respect people who can write good smut (hi incognita!), but I'm definitely a fade to black sort unless the ship is already so out there that I'm long past feeling self-conscious about it.

10- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. It's happened a couple of times, but the main one was someone who stole a few Austen fics from various people and tried to piece them together into something they could sell on Amazon. One of the fics was The Rich Are Always Respectable (not what I would choose to plagiarize if I were going to, but ... okay).

11- Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several times. I think it's cool!

12- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I wrote a short fic with my friend @tulinlina many years ago :)

13- What's your all-time favorite ship?

Darcy/Elizabeth. Truly this ship is the terror of the seas!

14- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Oh, man. This probably requires more self-knowledge than I really have. Um ... I hate saying it, but we get dark, only to shine is likely this. I had so many plans for where it was going to go, but I'm just in a very different fannish place these days.

15- What are your writing strengths?

It feels weird to say, but I think I write solid dialogue (it's certainly my favorite thing to write!) and fairly clean prose in general.

16- What are your writing weaknesses?

Description is my truest nemesis—I tend to place scenes in just empty or vaguely described space. Fight scenes and that sort of thing are really difficult (for related reasons). Finishing things—my stuff nearly always grows out of control and it screws up pacing and so on.

17- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

A little goes a long way, IMO. I did a bit of it in my fic about Leia and Cassian and Alderaanian, in tongues and quiet sighs, so I can't judge it too hard, but it's very much something to handle with care (especially with conlangs—Tolkien fic can be pretty grating this way).

18- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Tolkien! My first attempt at a fic was a Faramir-goes-to-Rivendell-instead-of-Boromir AU that never got very far.

Well, my first serious attempt at fanfic, that is—I wrote original stuff for years before that, and I guess technically I tried to write Trixie Belden fanfic when I was about 10 ... and the original stuff spun off from a piece that was basically a Secret of Mana fanfic I wrote even before the Trixie Belden stuff. But in terms of something written within a fandom community, the Faramir fic.

19- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Hmm. I'm not sure, actually. I mostly just write stuff if I feel like it. Oh—it's cheating, but I've barely written Korra/Kuvira even though I adore the ship. I'd like to write a proper Korvira fic someday.

20- What's your favorite fic you've written?

This changes pretty often, though there are always a few that come up when I'm asked. At this moment in time, probably The Jedi and the Sith Lord, the third (sort of) of my f!Luke Skywalker fics, and the one where the story finally swerves off the canon tracks and becomes its own thing. Maybe (probably?) not my best work, but the Lucyverse is my baby and I think TJATSL is my best work in it.

Tagging: @elwing, @kareenvorbarra, @heckofabecca, @veliseraptor, @rain-sleet-snow

#long post #anghraine babbles #fic talk #sadly not tagging all the fics individually #words about words #meme #meme prattle

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ababybiter · 10 months

Text

living with bangtan part 3

slow burn, fluff, smut, f2l, s2l, e2l, bts x reader, maybe you can help me decide the main love interest ;)

It's a slow start to the morning, which turns into a fast paced one very quickly. You wake up early, so you eat breakfast in the kitchen alone, watching the sun come up. You savour the quiet and lack of chaos that is the boys. Today was the road trip to the beach.

What started as a peaceful morning became rushed, you accidentally fall back to sleep after your shower, only to be awoken in your towel by a sharp knock on the door from one of the boys. "I've already called shotgun so don't try it!" You hear Taehyung skip away from the door.

Finally, everyone piles into the mini van Jin hired for the trip. You bag a window seat in the middle row, and Jungkook squeezes in beside you. He tries his hardest not to interfere with your space, placing himself just so, his knee barely so much as knocking yours.

"Alright dickheads I'm in charge of the snacks, don't get greedy." Yoongi slides in on the end.

"But you always fall asleep, give them to someone else." Jin plugs himself in and turns on the engine.

"Tough, it'll make you more self disciplined."

"You sound like my mother." You groan, and Jungkook chuckles.

Taehyung jumps in the passenger. He turns around to you. "When do I get to meet your mother?"

You narrow your eyes at your best friend. "Why?"

"I just so happened to come across her facebook page-"

"Stay away from my mother Taehyung!" You lean across Jungkook, feigning a slap.

"Is she pretty?" Jungkook tries to make eye contact with Taehyung.

"She's lovely." He smiles an innocent smile and you cover your face.

As the journey starts, Jungkook puts on his headphones. Taehyung controls the music whilst making conversation with you for most of the ride.

"Hey Jin-Hyung go easy on the potholes we're dying back here." Jimin whines from the back row. You turn around and he gives you a playfully terrified expression. You giggle.

"Sorry." Jin calls back to him. "We're basically here."

You nudge Jungkook who had fallen asleep as soon as he started listening to music, so he can see the ocean come into view. At first he screws up his features, annoyed to be awoken, but then he takes in the view and smiles. "We're here." He leans forward. "We're here, right?"

"Yes, Jungkook. We're here." Jin sighs. "I thought if I heard 'are we there yet' from Y/N one more time I was going to crash the car."

"Thank you for keeping us alive." You pat him on the shoulder.

As you step out of the car, the smell of the sea invigorates you, the wind blasting your hair back. You squeal excitedly. "Do you know how long it's been since I went to the beach?!"

"A long ass time?" Jungkook chuckles, stepping out behind you.

"Do you think there are amusements here?" You turn to him and almost melts at your expression before realising what you just said.

"You mean like arcades?" He lights up. "Fuck yeah I hope so."

"Wow, there's two of them." Taehyung mumbles.

You, Jimin, Hobi and Taehyung have a hilarious time challenging each other to sprint races along the shore, the waves lapping at your feet. You almost die laughing as Taehyung takes a tumble into the water. That is until Jungkook joins the races and it all gets old very quickly.

"Man, and I thought it was bad losing to Y/N at Mario Kart." Jin tuts from the blanket. "It's even worse watching this train wreck."

"Yeah, fuck off Jungkook." You collapse on the sand as Jimin tackles Jungkook onto the towels.

"Watch out!" Namjoon growls, moving his book out of the way just in time. The two of you hadn't actually spoken one on one since the kiss, but it wasn't awkward, in fact you were glad that neither one of you had brought it up.

"What are you reading?" You edge closer, breaking the ice.

He glances up at you carefully, then realises you're not about to make fun of him. "It's a book I'm planning to recommend to the class on Monday. I know, I know, working on a trip."

"I mean, yeah it's good to get ahead, but you should relax, Joon. You're acing the professor stuff."

"I just, can't look like an idiot up there. I'm pretty good at most of it, and staying calm through all of it. But it feels like if I slack off for a day or two, it'll all come crumbling down."

"It's not healthy to be like that." You touch his arm. "I mean it Joon, you're one of the best professors this college has ever seen. And you're not even full time yet!" He hides a smile as you continue. "Relax, please. You deserve it."

He meets your eyes then, and you almost cower. He hasn't looked you dead in the eyes since your kiss, and it's like the two of you are both brought back to that moment right there and then. His gaze drops to your lips and you think he might do it again, right here in front of everyone, but he snaps his head to watch Jungkook and Jimin wrestle over a packet of crisps.

You follow his gaze to watch Jungkook smack Jimin on the head with the chips, causing you to burst out laughing. Jungkook catches your eye and grins.

"Hey, Jin." You turn around looking for him, he's sitting up now, dusting sand off his shoes. "Let's go find a giant Mario Kart machine so I can beat you again."

"Oh, you're on." Jin moves to get up. "I'm done with the sand anyway."

"You're both on!" Jungkook sprints to the end of the beach, towards the shops.

"Look what you've done." Hobi rolls his eyes, tipping his neck back to drink some water. He's sweaty from running, and it beads down his neck. When he catches you watching, he smirks. "You like me or something?"

"I like that water you're drinking." You snatch it, blushing. "It's so hot." You tip the water back, letting a lot of it dribble down your throat, and onto your thin top, cooling you off. When you finish and stop to wipe yourself, you notice Hobi staring right back.

"What?" You smirk. "You like me or something?"

"Let's go, Y/N." Jin holds out a hand and you take it, leaving a gobsmacked Hobi to sit on the sand.

The sky turned pink as the eight of you headed back to the car after a tiring by fun day.

"Hey." You felt your back collide with something soft. You turned to see Yoongi stood there, a black and pink plushy in his hand.

You gasped. "How did you-"

"I saw you looking at it. Here." He passes you the cute teddy you saw in the claw machine and thought would look perfect on your bed.

"But, how? These games are like, scams?"

"I'm just that good."

"Thank you, are you sure I can keep it?"

"Yeah. It's not really my style." He shrugs.

You look down at the toy, it's little playful smirk and vampire teeth. If Yoongi were to ever be a teddy, it would be this one.

As you jumped into the car, Namjoon sidled up to Yoongi. "So how much did you pay the teenager working at the arcade to open the machine up?"

"Not much. These kids will take anything. It's sad really." He smirks.

Namjoon smiles softly, watching you show off your plush to Taehyung.

"So, winner of the most games gets shotgun the way back right?" Jungkook jumps into the passenger seat, causing the others to groan. Joon takes the opportunity and slides into the seat next to you.

Jin rubs his face tiredly. "Okay kids, next stop, home."

"Earbud?"

You turn to see a cozy looking Joon, almost being swallowed by his hoodie, holding one of his earphones out to you.

"Sure." You smile, leaning closer to him. A relaxing R&B song fills your left ear drum, and soon enough you're lulled to sleep by the warmth of his body and cologne.

"Y/N." A deep voice wakes you. "We're back now."

You wake up, your head resting on Joons shoulder, the earbud long forgotten.

"Oh, thank you."

"For what?" He chuckles, helping you out of the car.

"Um...I'm not sure."

For waking you, letting you use his earbud, his shoulder, for making you feel comfortable despite the last few days, and for smiling that same smile he's always held for you, at you now.

The boys are already dragging themselves to the elevator, slapping Jin on the back as they go.

"Who's up for fried chicken?" You beam, earning a chorus of strangely melodious cheers.

jimin :): are u coming out tonight? <3

You stare at the text on your phone, contemplating. It was a Thursday afternoon, and you had a 10am class the next day. With anyone else you'd have answered a simple yes or no, stating the time you wished to stay out for. But there was a strange buzz in the air, something brewing in the pit of your stomach.

It had been a while since there had been a crazy night out, and you had a feeling tonight was long overdue.

you: what's the plan again? x

jimin :): crazy new club in central, i think all of us are going

you: crazy??

jimin :): dress up babe :P

Soon enough you're squashed in the back of an uber, the ribbed tight dress you chose hugging your curves. Jimin spreads his legs and grins at you. He looks insanely good in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.

"You know it's pitch black outside right?" You laugh.

He giggles as Hobi holds a phone out to the two of you. "Say Cheeeeeese."

Jimin throws up a peace sign, leaning in to you. You get a waft of his aftershave, and press your cheek to his.

When you get to the club, Jimin leans forward to thank the uber driver personally, even though you tell him he doesn't need to, he always does.

You step out, balancing your in heels on the curb. You swish your hair around, looking for the other uber that the others followed you in. The boys are right behind you, piling out. Jin is standing on the sidewalk, staring at you.

He's using his hands vigorously as part of a conversation with Jungkook, all the while, keeping his eyes locked on you.

And you keep your eyes on him too.

He looks like a model tonight, black shirt with too many buttons undone, something about him sparkles. You walk straight over to him.

"Are you wearing glitter?"

He winks. "That's just me."

You walk into the club, blue lighting surrounds you, the bar is decked out in neon, like a beacon of hope to get wasted. In expecting the prices to be extreme, you had all pre-drinked at the apartment just to be safe.

"Want to dance?" Jungkook pushes his long hair back, also decked in black, he looks too good. The heat from his body already making you sweat. The kid was a human radiator.

"Let's do it." You let him guide you on to the dance floor. The two of you start jumping to the beat, before the song quickly changes and you turn your back against his front.

"What are you doing?" He huffs.

"Dancing." You grab his hands, placing them on your hips.

You feel his knuckles tighten and he pulls your ass against him. You're not sure what comes over you, probably the shots you did in the kitchen, but you're shaking your ass over his crotch, feeling his jeans tighten with every movement.

Suddenly, he pushes you off. "Careful."

"Why?" You spin, pulling him in. "It's fun-"

"It wont be when I pop a boner on the dance floor." He glances behind you and you follow his gaze to find Hobi, a secret laugh on his lips and two glasses in his hands.

"First rounds on me." He shouts over the music, handing the drinks to you and Jungkook. "Am I interrupting?"

"No." Jungkook blurts.

You roll your eyes and push past them, heading for a seat at the bar. You slam your drink down on the surface, trying to control the feelings inside you. Jeez, when was the last time you got laid?

You close your eyes, massaging your scalp for a few minutes, before you're finishing your drink quickly.

"Woah there, you're meant to savour it." Hobi comes up behind you on the stool. "That cost me way too much."

"I was getting hot out there." You slip off the stool.

"Yeah, I can tell." He grins, shaking his head. "I'm loving the dress by the way."

"Thanks. I'm good now though. Let's dance." You pull Hobi back to the dance floor as a fast paced drum and bass starts. You can't count how many people you accidentally hit with your hair, but then you're spinning and spinning, the colours and lights blurring into one orb.

"Go Y/N!" Jimin laughs his pretty laugh, pulling out his camera and snapping shots of you.

"You okay Y/N?" Hobi grabs you.

"Never better!" You grab him and jump.

Really you were, not a care in the world in that moment, with them. You spin again, knocking into Jungkook. He laughs.

"I'm sorry about earlier!" You shout into his face.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, pulling you closer. "I'm sorry for getting weird. How about a redo?"

You grin and let him run his hands over you as dance to a new song. You face him this time, running your hands through his hair. "Your hair is getting so long!"

"I know." He winces. "Should I cut it?"

"No!" You growl almost animalistic-ally. "I love it." You mewl.

"Yeah?" He huffs, his hands sliding upwards. "You love it?"

"Yeah."

You're not sure when the two of you got so close, or who leaned in first, but suddenly you're kissing Jungkook. His lips are warm and wet from his incessant licking of them while you were talking. You feel him smile into your mouth and soon the two of you are giggling like a couple of experimental besties.

Suddenly rough hands separate the two of you, Yoongi, who hadn't spoken to you all night, pushing Jungkook off into a quiet end of the club.

"Yoongi what the fuck are you doing?" You grab his bicep but his posture stays locked in position to shield Jungkook from you.

"What are you doing, Jungkook? This is a bad idea and you know it."

"We were just having fun!" Jungkook looks bewildered. "Hyung, you can't be serious-"

"What's the problem?" Jin appears.

Yoongi turns to him, avoiding your gaze. "This kid just-"

"I saw what happened on the dance floor." Jin. states calmly, hands in his pockets. "What's your problem?"

"She's drunk!" Yoongi cries.

"No I'm not!" You exclaim.

"They're both the same level of tipsy." Jin tells him. "You're just seeing what you want to see."

"I'm trying to stop him from making a stupid mistake." Yoongi argues.

"So which is it Yoongi?" You force him to face you. "I'm drunk or I'm a stupid mistake?"

"That's not what I-"

"The fact is, she's neither." Jin cuts him off, instantly silencing the 3 of you. You're about to beam and thank him for standing up for you when he adds on-

"If Y/N wants to make that kind of choice, she's just as responsible." He turns and gives you a dark look, his eyes penetrating the safe wall he had built himself, shielding you from the social anxiety of being judged by nearly everyone. Now he's shot through the barrier with just one stare.

You're confused, your heart pounding so fast from the adrenaline and everything else. Jungkook looks guilty, Yoongi won't even look at you, and Jin is already turning away, bored, with a hint of something else in his expression.

It hurts.

"Whaa is going on?" A drunk Namjoon barges into the awkward circle. "You guys are really sucking the good vibes out of the whole club." He slurs, swinging his nearly full glass.

Jungkook looks up. "Joon, careful."

"Why?" He throws his body from side to side dramatically, whatever liquid was in that glass now covering your neck, chest and lower half of your hair. It instantly soaks your dress and you wonder how one drink can spread so much. How did this night go downhill so fast?

You gasp.

"Oh no, Y/N. I'm so sorry!" Joon's eyes widen as the moment seems to sober him briefly. "I-I didn't see you-" He looks utterly devastated.

You feel worse.

"I'm going home. I...don't feel like I should be here anymore."

Before anyone can say anything, you turn swiftly on your heels and make a beeline for the door. The thumping bass is all you can hear until you push out of the double doors and past the startled bouncer. You hobble over to the a side road, pulling out your phone, thanking the heavens in that moment for instant cab services.

Two minutes. You thank your lucky stars again for Uber. You strain your eyes, gazing down the road, willing it to appear. You sniff and pretend you're not on the verge of crying.

One pair of footsteps comes up behind you. You don't have the energy to even defend yourself if it were a stranger. Luckily it wasn't.

"Someone had to go after you, and since this is pretty much my fault, it should be me.”

------------------

END OF PART 3

who is it 0.o find out in the next part which will contain smut!

#bts #namjoon fic #jungkook fic #jin fic #yoongi fic #hobi fic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jimin fic #v fic

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hinatastinygiant · 9 months

Text

6 | Beyond the Page

Pairing: Sanzu x Fem!Reader

The Book of Salvation

The next weekend, your phone begins to ring just after midnight. You reach for it and answer with a tired voice.

"Y/N?" Sanzu's voice replies through the phone. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," you shake your head. "I've been up, working on the plot for my next book."

There's a brief pause after that before Sanzu adds, "Would you mind some company?" He continues to explain that he's just left the drummer's house and needs to vent.

A smile grows on your lips as you agree. "Of course. I'll send you my address."

"Thanks, Y/N. I'll see you in a bit," he replies before hanging up.

A short while later, a knock at the door pulls you from your work. You open it to find Sanzu standing there, his expression drained. Without a word, he pulls you into a tight hug, catching you off guard. You return the embrace, concern in your eyes as you ask if he's okay.

"I'm just happy to see you," he sighs.

As you let him inside, he begins to explain his frustration with his bandmates. He tells you that he had brought up the idea of returning to Osaka for a concert and they immediately shot him down. Apparently, they don't want to go there because they think they'll lose money from the small venue.

Sanzu scoffs at the thought, anger lacing his voice as he adds, "But what the fuck does it matter when we've got all the money in the damn world?"

"Sanzu..." you mutter, watching his jaw tense and relax. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes it off, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. "I just... I just don't get why they don't appreciate where they came from, you know?"

You nod in understanding. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Sorry to bother you with this, Y/N," he shakes his head, a weak smile on his lips. "It's just that I didn't know who else to talk to about this and I figured that since we went there together... Well, I just wanted someone to understand, I guess."

"It's okay," you reassure him. "I'm glad you decided to talk to me."

"Thanks," he smiles. "Can we just watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," you agree. "I've got some snacks, too."

"Fuck yes," Sanzu grins, following you into the living room.

You pick a random comedy to watch and Sanzu flops down onto the couch beside you. As the movie begins, Sanzu stretches his arms above his head, letting one of them fall behind you.

As the movie plays, you can feel the stress of the week melt away, the warmth of the man beside you making you sleepy. After a while, your head leans against his shoulder, your eyes drifting closed.

When the movie ends, Sanzu looks down at you, a soft smile forming on his lips. Carefully, he shifts so he can scoop you up into his arms. You stir, but don't wake up, instead leaning your head into his chest. He carries you to your bedroom, gently laying you onto the bed.

As Sanzu tucks you in, your hand reaches out to him. He blinks, looking at your drowsy expression.

"Stay," you murmur.

With a quiet sigh, Sanzu sits on the edge of the bed, watching your eyes slowly drift closed again. His own eyes close for a moment as he breathes out, his shoulders relaxing. Then, he pulls his shirt off and crawls under the covers, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring, "Good night, Y/N."

You smile and cuddle closer to him, sleep coming easily as you enjoy his warmth.

The next morning, you wake to find Sanzu's arm still draped over you. You shift, turning over to face him. "Morning, Y/N," he says with a grin. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Did you?"

"Yeah," Sanzu nods, his arm moving to stroke your cheek.

"What time is it?" you yawn.

"Nearly ten," he replies.

"Damn, I slept a lot," you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Well, I think we both needed the rest," Sanzu shrugs.

"True," you sigh, shifting a little closer to him. "But it was worth it."

"Definitely," Sanzu nods, his nose brushing yours. You chuckle, enjoying the closeness of the moment.

"Do you have anything to do today?" Sanzu asks.

"Not really," you shrug. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out," Sanzu admits. "If not, that's cool."

"No, I'd love to hang out with you," you nod, sitting up. "Any ideas?"

"Let's just see where the day takes us," Sanzu shrugs, following suit.

"Alright," you smile. "First, I need coffee."

"Agreed," Sanzu chuckles, rising to his feet.

─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────

"And then what?" Nairobi asks after she and Amaya finish listening to your story.

"Well, ten minutes later he got a phone call, said it was really important, and left," you shrug.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Y/N," Amaya sighs. "That really sucks."

"It's okay," you shake your head. "At least it wasn't like we just hooked up and he left. It probably was really important."

"I can't believe his bandmates are being such dicks about going to Osaka, either. What the hell is their problem anyway?" Nairobi grumbles.

"It's not like it would be a huge loss," Amaya adds.

"God, how much is their net worth anyway?" you chime in.

"Ooo," Amaya gasps. "Let me look!"

Amaya, always resourceful, quickly pulls out her phone and starts searching. After a moment, she gasps in disbelief. "Guys, you won't believe this. Sanzu's net worth is 35 billion yen."

Nairobi's jaw drops at the staggering number. "Holy shit," she exclaims. "How much money could they possibly lose from Osaka?"

You shake your head. "Probably nothing significant."

Amaya's eyes light up with an idea. "Maybe they just need something to convince them to go."

Curiosity piqued, you ask, "Like what?"

Amaya grins mischievously. "We could create exclusive merch to be sold only at the Osaka concert."

Nairobi's face lights up with excitement. "That's an amazing idea! And we could all promote it on social media too."

"Yeah!" Amaya nods enthusiastically.

"Oh, but I don't have a website," you shake your head.

"I can help with that," Amaya waves it off.

"Okay, so I'm gonna guess that's a yes for the merch," Nairobi concludes, her tone amused.

"Hell yeah," Amaya replies. "What are we thinking? A t-shirt?"

"T-shirts and hoodies would be a good start," Nairobi agrees.

"Do you think you could draw something like that?" you ask Amaya.

"Definitely! You just run it by Sanzu the next time you see him and we'll get started on the designs!"

The Book of Salvation

Taglist: @bontensbabygirl

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years

Text

...going to hell

Pairing: sub!Steve x dom!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, face sitting, riding, handjob, oral(f receiving), toys, multiple orgasms, shy Steve, corruption kink if you squint, unprotected sex (stay safe out there yall), pet names & honorifics (mistress, puppy, babyboy etc) I'm probably missing some things moral of the story this shit is NASTY

Genre: smut & fluff

Summary: Steve's introduction to submission 'Only you can save me I'm a sinner' ~ ...going to hell by Miguel

***

You're sitting on the couch with a book when your boyfriend calls your name.

"Hey y/n? You busy?"

"No, just reading. What's up Stevie?" You don't look up from your book as you answer, you want to finish this paragraph before you give him your full attention.

"So- I've been thinking about it and I'd like to try that thing you brought up." Steve says a bit awkwardly.

"Is this a family friendly thing I've brought up or-" You finally look at him, closing your book. Now he has your attention.

"Absolutely not." Steve's eyes widen as he shakes his head.

"Well, that- narrows it down a little, but I'm still a bit confused. Could you maybe stop being so vague and just tell me what thing you're talking about so we can get on the same page for this conversation?" You shift your body so you're facing him properly.

"This is very awkward for me." Steve mutters.

"I can tell that much but I can't read your mind my love, you need to tell me what this is about." You say. "I mean, if it's something I brought up I obviously won't judge you for wanting to try it, but you have to tell me what it is so we can proceed accordingly." You try to encourage him.

"The- dominant submissive thing you said you like."

"Oh! Really? I'm kind of shocked- you seemed, like pretty- unenthused by that idea." You say.

"I'll admit it's- a bit unnerving but I'd like to give it a try." Steve nods. Even though Steve has practiced this conversation in his head several times he still feels awkward saying it. I mean, how could he be so interested in something so sacreligious?

Wait okay just so I'm understanding you clearly, you want to try being dominant?"

"No. Well- not yet, I don't really know how any of this work so I'd be more comfortable letting you take the reigns."

"You- want to try being submissive?" You blink at him. Steve can certainly be on the more timid side but you've never thought him to be willing to give up control that way.

"Yes. If you're okay with that."

"Of course I am. I mean, I've been on both sides so, if you're sure that's what you want. I can do that." You tell him with a nod.

"You're sure?"

"Are you?" You smile.

"Yes."

"Okay, come sit, we need to have a talk about some things. It's going to be awkward, you'll probably turn red but this is all judgement free. It's for your comfort and mine."

"Oh geez." He groans as you pull him onto the couch beside you.

"Come on Stevie it won't be that bad I promise. And we can take as long as you need us to okay? There's no rush."

"You said it's for our comfort?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Where do we begin?"

"Well we can start with limits, or interests, oh and you'll need a safeword-"

"Y/n! One thing at a time please." Steve blinks at you.

"Sorry, there's a lot to talk about. We'll start with limits. Things you absolutely don't want to try." You explain to him.

"Sounds good." He nods.

~*~*~

Steve walks into your apartment with a grin on his face that grabs your attention when he leans against the entryway of your kitchen.

"Hi Stevie. What's got you all smiley?" You ask him with a chuckle as you place the last dish for dinner on the table. Steve brings his hand from behind his back and glinting metal dangles in your face. A pair of handcuffs.

"I got these from the tower. They're special ones that I shouldn't be able to get out of." Steve explains.

"Oh? I was just going to use ropes, but these work too." You say.

"Ropes? Really? Why ropes?"

"Well because I can tie you up with pretty patterns across your chest." You say drawing lines with your finger along your chest. "But we can use the handcuffs if you'd rather." You shrug.

"Pretty patterns?" Steve's voice is breathy as he speaks.

"Yeah. You can do all kinds of things with ropes Stevie."

"Wouldn't you be worried I'd snap them?" He asks with a frown. You grab his chin, forcing him to bend towards you.

"I trust you to be good for me." You tell him, your voice low and drawn out.

"C-can we go play?" Steve asks quietly and you have to resist the urge to smile at how easily he's slipping into things.

"You should eat first." You say letting his face go and sitting at the table. You and Steve don't talk much as you eat. He's too wired with anticipation and you're content to let him sit in his excitement while you enjoy your meal. When you finish eating you clear your place and give Steve a kiss on the cheek.

"We can play now." You tell him before going to your bedroom. You hear Steve scramble from his seat and put his dishes in the sink but you don't turn to look at him as you head to your bedroom. When Steve walks in he stands by the door, handcuffs in hand, but he's unsure what to do.

"Stevie, are you sure you wanna do this?" You ask him.

"I'm sure." He nods, he's actually very nervous, but he trusts you.

"Would you prefer if we used handcuffs for tonight?"

"Um- I'm not sure. I think so."

"Alright, gimme the cuffs." You hold out your hand. Steve places the cuffs in your palm and holds out his wrists to you. "Strip for me." You tell him, pulling a box out from under your bed. Steve quickly sheds his clothes.

"Done."

"Don't speak if I didn't ask you to." You tell him with your back still turned as you put the mystery box on your side table.

"Sorry." He blushes.

"Lay down. On your back." You tell him and he rushes onto the bed, laying down with his hands stiff at his sides. You want to chuckle at his clear awkwardness so you do, hoping to ease the tension for him. "Arms up for me sweetie." You tell him and his arms shoot up into the air. You cuff one of his wrists and pull both arms back towards the headboard, looping the handcuffs through it before cuffing his other wrist. "How does that feel?" You ask softly. Steve gives an experimental tug before he responds.

"It feels fine."

"Good. And what's our safeword?" You ask him.

"Stripes."

"Good boy." You hum, you put your hand around his throat and angle his head to kiss him. His eyes fall closed before your lips touch his and you smile as you kiss him. A squeeze at the sides of his neck makes him gasp and you take the invitation to find his tongue with your own, forcing him to yield to you in your kiss. When you pull away his mouth chases yours, but his restraints make him drop his head as he catches his breath. You climb onto the bed and straddle Steve, peppering kisses against his neck with your nails dragging down his chest. Steve lets out a strangled groan when your lips touch a spot just above his collarbone and you focus your attention there, nipping and sucking the skin there until his chest is heaving. His hands clench and unclench around nothing as he moans, unable to do anything as you cover him in hickeys. Your lips travel down his chest, wrapping around one of his nipples.

"Y-y/n." Steve strains out as your teeth lightly graze the nipple in your mouth. His arms pull against the restraints once, desperate to touch you. Steve squirms beneath you, his length hard against your ass.

"Hold still Stevie." You say biting his nipple in warning. He hisses and stills under you. You slide further down, kissing and nipping your way down his chest and abdomen, leaving pretty marks in your wake. You continue your kisses down, avoiding his dick entirely and marking his thighs one at a time.

"Y/n- please-"

"Please what?" You tilt your head at him.

"T-touch me."

"But I am touching you." You tease, pressing your fingers into one of the hickeys you left on his thigh. He lets out a groan.

"Y/n-"

"That is not how you're supposed to address me. I've let you get away with it twice already, if you keep doing it, you won't cum tonight at all. Do you understand me?" You tell him sharply.

"Y-yes mistress. Sorry mistress."

"That's better." You nod. "Now, ask me for what you want, correctly." You tell him.

"Mistress, please- please touch my dick. Please, I need it mistress." Steve's face is bright red as he forces the words out. He can't believe the words coming from his mouth. Even more unbelievable is how hard he is from saying it. What the hell are you doing to him?

"You need it? I like the sound of you begging." You muse.

"Please- mistress. Please touch it." Feeling generous, you lick a stripe along the vein running along the underside of Steve's dick. He groans at the sudden stimulation, throwing his head back when you swirl your tongue around the head. You continue like that for a few minutes, when Steve's legs tense from your ministrations you pull off of him and he blows out an obviously frustrated breath but otherwise doesn't complain. You finally open the box you brought out earlier. Steve wants to ask about it but refrains, he doesn't want to get reprimanded again. You pull out the lubricant from the box and generously squirt some in your hand.

"Now Steven, I'm going to touch you, but you're not allowed to cum without my permission. If you want to cum you ask. If I say no, you don't. Is that clear?"

"Yes mistress." He breathes. Your hand wraps around the base of his dick and you start stroking him slowly.

"I wanna hear your voice Stevie. I won't know you like it if I can't hear you and I'll stop if I think you don't like it." You say as you work him.

"Please don't stop mistress- please." Steve's breathy moans fill the room as he talks.

"Don't stop?"

"Please don't. It feels so good." He groans.

"Does it?" You continue to stroke him at an easy pace, content with the string of moans and shaky breathing coming from his lips.

"Yes mistress." He whimpers, and the sound coming from your large superhero boyfriend causes your already wet pussy to completely soak your panties. You stroke him faster and his sounds come out more frequently in response.

"M-mistress, c-c-can I- I need- can I cum?" Steve tugs against his restraints.

"No you cannot. And if you break my headboard I will punish you." You warn him.

"Mistress please- please I need to cum." Steve continues to beg you as you keep stroking him.

"I already told you, no Stevie." Steve throws his head back against the pillows with a groan. When you notice his legs tensing up you completely stop touching him.

"No!" He gasps, panting as your lack of touch forces him to calm down.

"I told you that you weren't allowed to cum." You run your clean hand through his hair comfortingly. When his breathing is marginally calmer you begin stroking him again, working him until his legs tense up and you abruptly stop. This time he doesn't protest, save for a whine. You do this two more times, savoring the strangled sounds coming from your chained up boyfriend.

"M-mistress?" Steve looks at you curiously.

"What is it Stevie?" You hum.

"Well it's just- I- I can smell you and- I'd really really like to taste you mistress. Can I mistress? Please can I taste you?"

"Do you think you deserve it babyboy?"

"I- I just want to make you feel good mistress. You've been- touching me and it feels so good and I want to- return the favor. Please mistress."

"You beg so sweetly my love. Hold onto the headboard, if at any point you want to stop knock on the wall or let go and shake your hands. Otherwise, I'm going to sit on your face and you're going to eat my pussy until I cum and I'm going to keep touching you, but you are not going to cum. Do you understand?" You hold Steve's chin and force him to look at you as you speak. He tries to nod even as you hold his face. "Use your words puppy." You tell him.

"Y-yes mistress, I understand."

"And you'll be good, won't you?"

"Yes mistress."

"Now ask me for it."

"Please sit on my face mistress. Use my mouth to get off mistress, please." Steve practically squirms as he pleads with you.

"Good boy." You hum getting on the bed and climbing up until you're hovering over Steve's face. You reach behind you to wrap your hand around Steve again, waiting for him to let out a moan before you lower yourself onto Steve's open mouth. You sigh when his tongue laps at your slit. He immediately takes to tonguing your clit and your head dips back at the feeling. Steve's tongue dips into your pussy, eagerly swallowing your wetness. "That's it Stevie. You eat my pussy so well babyboy." You groan, grinding your hips against his mouth. Steve's moans vibrate against you as he desperately tries to focus despite you stroking him. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks at the bundle of nerves harshly. "Keep doing that baby. God that feels good." You pant out, enjoying the way his beard scratches against your thighs. You let out a whimper as your orgasm washes over you. Even as your submissive, Steve knows exactly what buttons to push to work your body. You shakily shift off of Steve, taking in the way his mouth glistens. "You're such a good boy." You tell him.

"Thank you mistress. And thank you for letting me please you." Steve says. You hum with a smile as you kiss your boyfriend, tasting yourself on his mouth. He moans against your lips as you continue leisurely stroking his dick.

"Alright Stevie, because you did so well I'm going to let you decide what's next. I can keep doing what I'm doing, or I can wrap my lips around your pretty dick, or I can fuck you. Your choice." You place languid kisses against Steve's neck and chest as you speak. Steve is a mess of moans and pants, so worked up that even with your lazy pace he has to focus hard on not cumming without permission. "Choose Stevie." You encourage sweetly.

"I- p-please- please mistress." Steve squirms against his restraints.

"Please what puppy? I can't give you anything if you don't tell me what you want."

"I want- please fuck me mistress. Please, I-" Steve cuts himself off with a moan as you tighten your hold on him. You straddle Steve and rub your heat against Steve's length, letting out little gasps when your clit catches against the head.

"You want me to fuck you Steven? Wanna watch your dick sliding in and out of me, spreading me open?"

"Y-yes mistress. Please- I want it so bad mistress. Please will you sit on my dick mistress." Steve begs breathlessly. You lift yourself and sink slowly down Steve's length, the stretch making you sigh contently. "F-fuck- thank you mistress." Steve groans. You place your hands on Steve's chest for leverage as you raise your hips and slam them back down, riding him at a quick pace.

"God you're so big Stevie! Filling me up so well." You moan out as you bounce on his length. "Tell me how it feels babyboy."

"Warm- you're so warm. It feels so good mistress."

"Yeah? You like that? Feeling my pussy squeezing around your big fat dick?"

"I love it mistress. So much!" Steve calls out, straining against his restraints, desperate to touch you. You wrap a hand around his throat as you continue to ride him. "M-mistress, mistress I'm close. I'm so close- I need to cum. Please can I?"

"Not yet puppy, hold it for me."

"I can't! Mistress please! Please let me cum." Steve pleads with you anxiously as you continue to push him further.

"I said hold it Steve." You say through clenched teeth as you move harsher against him.

"Mistress- p-please." Steve groans.

"Please what? Tell me what you want puppy."

"Please can I cum mistress."

"You've been so good, cum for me Stevie." You tell him, kissing him roughly. When the first burst of liquid heat fills you, you seat yourself fully on Steve, moaning softly at the feeling of his cum filling you. Without coming off of him, you grab one of your toys from inside the box on and switch it on, pressing it to your clit immediately. You moan loudly at the vibrations against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Steve hisses as you clench around him, able to feel the toy through your walls.

"M-mistress." Steve groans as you grind against the toy and inadvertently him as he's still buried inside you.

"Yes baby?" You notice his hands clenching and unclenching again. "What is it puppy? You wanna touch me?" You taunt breathlessly even as your legs shake with an impending orgasm.

"I do mistress." Steve nods, licking his lips eagerly.

"Oh my god- you're getting hard again. You're enjoying this Stevie? Like watching me make myself cum with your dick inside me?"

"Y-yes mistress- I can feel you s-squeezing around me." Steve strains out. You grind against your vibrator until you cum with a string of expletives, covering Steve's abs with evidence your orgasm. You squirted. You take a moment to catch your breath.

"Aw puppy, I've made a mess all over you. You look good covered in my squirt like that." You tell him, climbing off of Steve. "You're hard again Stevie, do you wanna cum again?" You ask, wrapping your hand around his dick.

"Please mistress. C-can I cum again?" He asks. You stroke him quickly and he hisses. Despite being hard again, his dick is still a bit sensitive and the stimulation is almost painful even though he wants to cum again.

"You can cum again my love. You've been good. Give me another one." You coo as you work his dick. Steve squirms and moans unendingly as another orgasm creeps up on him.

"I- I'm close mistress. I- need-"

"Go ahead Stevie, cum for me." You tell him and he spills over your hand with a grunt. "Good boy." You hum. You take your cum covered fingers and shove them into Steve's open mouth. "Suck them cleen." You tell him and his lips close around the digits, eagerly cleaning them off until you pull them out. Steve pants heavily as you finally release his wrists from the cuffs. His arms immediately drop onto the bed and you kiss his forehead before you stand. "I will be right back hon." You tell him. You go to your bathroom and wipe down your legs before taking a clean washcloth out to take care of your boyfriend.

"Mistress?" Steve slurs as you gently wipe him with the damp cloth, starting at his face and working your way down to the mess at his stomach and hips.

"Steve sweetie, the scene is over. You don't have to call me mistress anymore." You tell him with a soft chuckle.

"Oh- okay." He mutters. "Can we cuddle?" He asks after a pause.

"Of course we can babe, just let me finish cleaning you up, then I'll get you a snack and we can cuddle." You tell him.

"I don't want a snack. Just cuddles." He frowns.

"Alright but you do have to drink water." You compromise.

"Fine." He nods. When he's sufficiently wiped down you climb into bed next to him, water bottle in hand.

"Sip." You say holding it up to his mouth.

"You don't have to be so bossy. Scene's over." He pouts but drinks the water anyway.

"Scene's over but you're clearly still coming down from it. You did a wonderful job Stevie. I'm very proud of you, especially since you were so nervous." You tell him, gently running your hands through his hair as he drinks the water.

"I liked it more than I expected." He admits.

"Yeah? Do you think you'll wanna do it again?"

"Yes."

"Okay, next time we can try some of the things you said you were curious about when we talked about all this hm?" You suggest and Steve's face flushes as if you weren't just riding him.

"I'd like that." He says quietly and you giggle a little at his shyness.

"You are absolutely adorable." You tell him placing a kiss on his forehead and in that moment Steve is sure that he's never been more in love with you than he is right now.

***

#marvel #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #captain america fanfiction

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selastheblue · 3 months

Text

Rest in Risenloaf

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Rest in Risenloaf

Within the walls of Risenloaf Flicker rested in amongst the hanging hammocks, cozily curled in one of the larger ones with Hangar behind him holding him tightly, and another borrower girl named Page in Flicker's arms. Both were still asleep even as he lay dozing, slowly waking. He took a deep breath and smiled as he let it out slowly. The colony's main space was wonderfully warm and always seemed to smell of freshly baked bread and sweets.

It really would have been perfect. he acknowledged to himself as he yawned, It's good that a colony is here, even if it ruins my plans. Trying not to wake his new friends he shimmies up and peers below to the other borrowers moving about.

It seemed that he was one of the first to wake as there were only a couple up and about this time of afternoon. There were the chefs, preparing the afternoon meal of course. A couple rearers eating and chatting. And one very very old looking borrower woman that he recognized as Mittens.

Hair greying now and perhaps a bit heavier around the waist then he remembered, she sat away from the other groups of borrowers. Preferring it seemed to watch that goings on. But she did manage to spot Flicker looking down at her from above and waved to him.

He smiled back and waved a bit before working to extricate himself from his two sleeping buddies. Trained in being as quiet and careful as possible, he slipped out fairly easily, with but a groaned snore from Hanger before the bigger borrower squeezed Page firmly in his sleep.

Flicker grinned as he watched them get comfy once more, as he slipped away and grabbed his things. But he didn't bother to dress yet. It was far too hot in this colony to put much on. He could dress after his waking meal, before he headed out into the cold of the bean streets. So instead he descended down to the eatery, and picked a plate of buns cut in half and stuffed with a meat he didn't recognize until he took a bite.

Pork!! His eyes widened as he sat down across from Mittens, "Ham? How do you get your hands on it?"

The older lady chuckled, "Oh they keep a bit in tha kitchens. We take the little scraps they canna make nothin' from. Good, ain't it lad?"

"Mmm.... second favorite." he agreed, swallowing, "Next to fish. Fresh fish!"

"Now where a young lad like you getting fish, let alone fresh fish, eh?" she grinned, leaning back in her chair as he scarfed down his second sandwich.

"Markets. With Buckle years ago. Caught a guppie that fell out of a fisherman's basket. From the lake upstream Buckle said." Flicker answered, "Best thing I've ever had."

"No doubt. I've only had it twice in all me life." she smiled warmly, "May you delight it more than I did. Carefully, though."

Flicker nodded, then changed topics, "I.... have a bit of news from Damperflue."

"Well tella ole Mittens." she encouraged him.

Hesitating for a moment he decided to get the big one out of the way first, "We.... we uh lost Buckle. Just a couple months ago. I'd have brought the new sooner but-"

And Mittens raised a single hand as he went to excuse his absence as a Wayfinder amongst the colonies, "Ye took the time ya needed. And on my word ya could use a bit longer yet. But grief is a funny thing, and maybe wayfindin' in his place'll help ya realize he ain't gone. On his Big Climb, aye. But not gone, he's leavin' you a way ta follow." she said as he sat there silent.

Flicker still couldn't help but look down at his hands, "But-"

"No buts. Or ifs, for that matter." she shook her head firmly, closing her eyes, "Ye need to care yerself a'fore ye can wayfind for the colonies."

The younger borrower sat with that for a minute before he spoke up more quietly this time, "You're.... taking it well. You two were littermates, right?"

"Aye, we were. Long ago in Dartmouse." she nodded once, "Don't take my composure for apathy lad. I'm just a bit more accustomed to loss by now. Buckle ain't the first I seen go.... but perhaps the hardest on tha heart. How'd he pass?"

"In Damperflue, surrounded by the colony. He collapsed one day as we were gearing up to go wayfinding, the healers said it was his heart going." Flicker answered, eyes a bit wet, "Pale and shaking...."

Mittens opened her eyes, and frowned, "Ay, don't remember 'im like that. Tell me, lad, when he was showin' you to be a Wayfinder, what was your first borrowin'?"

Flicker took a breath as he remembered, "Uh it was, my climbers hook."

"Bring 'er here." she encouraged him, gesturing to his pack he'd placed at the end of the table, "Lemmy take a look." Flicker obliged, grabbing his clothes as well as he did. He handed over the hook, before donning his pants. "Hmm, a good one. Steel. With a double hook on 'er."

"Yeah, Buckle suggested that one, out of the other fishing hooks in the box." he smiled slightly before chuckling, "I almost gave us away though, tripping over the edge of the tacklebox, and I fell into the pile of sharp hooks! Buckle covered my mouth to stifle the scream I let out. We got out and away from beans enough that he could patch me up."

She smiled at that, "Oh an' I can betcha he gave ya a right scoldin', eh?"

"Oh like you wouldn't believe!" he smiled, tears threatening to spill over, "He got me to name it. My hook. Seemed a bit silly to me to name it at the time. But he said a good hook is a lifelong friend."

"Ha, ole fool. He always named his things, if they lasted. What'd ya name it, lad?" Mittens prompted him.

"Cat's Claw." he responded as he took it back from her, looking it over for a moment before re-hooking it to his bag.

Mittens smiled a bit wider, and let that feeling sit for a moment as Flicker's eyes got lost in memories. Eventually she says softly, "That's what ya need to hold onto, lad. What time ye did have. All yer days wayfindin'. All his lessons. That's the way he's leavin' ya to follow."

Flicker's face was red again, but he smiled with Mitten's words as he wiped at his eyes, "Thanks Mitt."

"I aint done more then remind you what matters." she shook her head once again, then with a brief moment as pause she added, "Caught a whisper you an Buckle were to make this place a colony. While I'm sorry ta say I beat the ole fella to it, there was another prospect he had his eye on. Back in tha day of course. Might do ye just as well."

Flicker looked to her, interested and happy to get some relief from the weight of grief. A distraction welcome, "Oh? Where, and why didn't you two make a colony there before?"

"Cross the river from Damperflue, on the corner O'Maple drive an' Main street. Little old abandoned shop it was. Little cold in the winter, and sparse in food. But it could work, if ye get hands hearty an' skilled."

"I think I have seen the place once, from the outside. A big front window on both levels, with big bean doors on the right and left side of the ground floor? Old red chipped paint?" he clarified.

"That'll be her." Mittens affirmed.

"I'll take a look, I think." he nodded a few times, "We already had colonists ready to help us, and I'd rather not dash their hopes. Many were excited for the chance."

"Then I say why not, eh? Give 'er. Do the ole fella proud."

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#g/t #borrowers #gianttiny #giant/tiny #gtfluff #g/twriting #gt #micro #wayfindertales #OCFlicker #OCDahlia #borrower #gtcommunity #g/t writing #giant tiny

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nautiscarader · 1 year

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Azure reunion - ch 2

(Ao3)

"We should set up a camp", Ash spoke, squeezing water out of his hat.

"Well, my half is done, let's go". Misty smiled and let him towards her fishing spot.

"So, what have you been up to?"

"There is a Pokémon fishing contest nearby, decided to try some of my lures.", Misty replied. "Of course the whole region around Lake of Rage got so popular ever since Lance caught that stupid red Gyarados of his…"

Misty scoffed, reaching for her backpack.

"Every trainer from the region thinks they will catch a golden Magikarp… But I've done my research and- AAGH!"

Misty shrieked as she turned around and her eyes laid on Ash, causing him to jump in place as well.

"What?!"

"Aargh! You're naked!", Misty screamed, averting her eyes from her disrobed friend.

"Well, you've said that I'm soaked!", he countered quickly, "Gotta dry them by the fire. I have been burned way too many times to use any of my fire Pokémon".

"And besides, I am not all naked", Ash grumbled, "You act like you haven't seen me in my boxers or my swimming trunks before."

Misty turned her head around, still dazed and baffled by the sudden naked figure of her friend. Yes, it was true, she has seen him half-naked dozens of times, but that was when he was ten-, or eleven-year-old boy…

The man she was throwing quick glances at certainly wasn't, unless one would judge him by the motif of his shorts, still dotted in zig-zags of Pikachu's tail. Although not all of those curves were caused by the printing design, Misty realised, causing her to look at the sun setting behind tree line.

"What were you talking about?", Ash's voice caused her to snap back to reality she has trailed off from, and was quite frankly glad to think about anything else.

"Oh, right", she cleared her throat. "While most Pokémon here are Magikarps, believe it or not, I am aiming for a Dratini!"

"Really?"

"Yes, that is because there is evidence that most reservoirs surrounding Blackthorn City are actually interconnected through underground tunnels. And one of those reservoirs is of course…"

"Dragon's Den!", Ash jumped to his feet, "That is where the entrance to Dragon Holy land is!"

"I know!", Misty exclaimed, but her excitement took a detour when her eyes laid upon Ash's naked chest, once more causing her to turn sideways. "Ekhm, I mean, I am glad you follow my reasoning."

Still looking at the lake, she sat on the ground, only occasionally throwing glances at her old friend. While she couldn't call him overly muscular, his chest showed visible traces of physical training, brought by years of travels, made only more pronounced by very few hair dotting his skin.

"If you catch one, it could befriend my Dragonite. And my Dracovish!"

"I am still not sure if that one was put together correctly…", Misty sighed.

"Oh, come on, he is doing his best. And he only nearly decapitated me once."

Misty laughed, her hand brushing with Ash's, promptly causing her to flinch. She hid her flustered face by turning away, wondering why on earth was she suddenly that nervous and easily startled, though deep down in her guts, she knew the answer very well…

"And have you seen any Dratini yet?", Ash continued, seemingly completely oblivious to the effect he was causing to her.

"Well, not yet, but I know they are here."

"How so?"

Misty cleared her throat and with some theatricality reached for her backpack, her lips curling into a triumphant smile as she took a thick magazine.

"It's all because of extensive hydrological studies we have done in the entire area over the course of last year or so."

She handed him the magazine, the type of which he'd often seen on shelves of the many professors and scientists he has befriended over the years. Misty opened it to a bookmarked page and pointed to her name amongst few others underneath a long article dotted with tables and graphs.

"Wow.", Ash gasped, unable to find the right words as his eyes scanned the page. "That looks like a lot of hard work"

"To be frank", she once again hid her flustered face, "I-I haven't done that much, I had just helped with gathering the data…"

"Never imagined you'd be doing Pokémon research…"

"Well, not all of us had time to travel around the world beating every trainer they meet, some of us decided to take care of their future!", she fumed, realising her tone immediately, as Ash's jokey smiley faded away.

"Sorry.", she apologised quickly,"I shouldn't have said that", she lowered her head, burying it against her knees.

"It's okay", Ash scooted next to her, making her look up at him, hearing his warm tone. "I was just a bit jealous, I guess. I am really proud of you! Maybe one day you will help professor Oak!"

"Thanks.",she replied softly, "But it really was just one-off thing, I don't see myself as one in the future…"

She met his apologetic, warm gaze, but immediately had to look down as he handed her the copy of her magazine.

"Oh!", she exclaimed as she packed it back, "Speaking of the future, have you heard about Brock and Olivia?"

"Have I?", Ash scoffed, "They've visited my mom personally to give the invitations."

"Can you believe it? Brock is getting married!", Misty clapped her hands, "After all these years and heartbreaks, he has finally found true love…" she spoke dreamily and swooned over to her side.

"Uh, Misty…"

"And they will have the wedding on the beach!", she continued, excitement in her voice only rising "This is so romantic… I cannot wait to go back to Alola…"

"M-Misty…"

"And he will be a dad too, can you imagine? Olivia must be so proud…"

"Misty!"

"What?"

She turned her head, only to find Ash's face mere inches away from hers, his shoulder being the sturdy thing she was leaning on this whole time. Misty was about to back away, but then she was hit with a new sensation, caused by an unfamiliar smell that made her feel hot, only urging her to breathe in more.

The musky, masculine fragrance that hit her nose intrigued her, as it wasn't just cologne - a fragrance she already did not expect - nor the smell of any Pokémon, but something new that stirred a part of her mind she didn't expect to be stirred at all…

She wanted to ask Ash about it, but fortunately, she couldn't, as her mouth was too busy kissing the lips of the boy she has so foolishly let go so many years ago…

Suddenly, with her eyes closing, that mysterious, intoxicating smell and taste overwhelmed her senses, dulling and muting every other sensations, perhaps aside from touch, when she moved from her safe spot next to him to a much more comfortable one, straddling his laps.

She opened her eyes wide at the same time as he did, never breaking the kiss that channelled their moans caused by Misty nesting herself against his crotch and what she was exerting more and more pressure on, feeling every twitch of his.

But at some point she had to break the long-overdue kiss, not only to breathe, but also to let her top slide over her head. And once it did, she was reconnected with an even more bewildered and wide-eyed expression, as Ash was mesmerised by her perky breast, jiggling softly just inches away from his lips.

"M-Misty…!", he raised his voice and met her eyes as the gym leader leaned forward, gently pushing him to his back.

"What?", she asked, unsure of his tone, "Wait, you're not going to tell me those are the first breasts the World Champion has ever seen?"

#pokeshipping #aaml #aamr #lemon #nautiscaraderfics #+

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wordofthewicked · 2 years

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Switched- A Fred and George Weasley Fan Fic

Fred and George Weasley are the most infamous duo at Hogwarts- you'll never find one without the other trailing close behind. Many people can't even tell them apart, and even fewer try to figure it out. However, there is more to the twins than meets the eye. Perhaps being two halves of the same whole isn't their choice in the first place. When a date with George's longtime crush leads to a new budding romance, chaos ensues within the Gryffindor house. This girl holds some key to George's future, but can he outrun the danger that comes with loving her?

~All characters, places, objects, and events that happen in the Harry Potter Universe are property of J.K Rowling. I own none of them. This book is purely a work of fan fiction.~

General Masterlist

Switched Masterlist (All parts)

Chapter Three- The Boathouse

Stevie's POV:

The arrival of the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students was as spectacular as it was anticipated.

However, once the initial excitement wore off, the extra students became more of a burden than anything. Suddenly there were lines to use the toilets in between classes, and walking through the halls became more of a slow crawl than the normal swift movements.

"Merlin's Beard! KEEP MOVING. YOU CAN'T JUST STAND THERE BECAUSE YOU'RE LOST AGAIN!" I shouted, squeezing past a cluster of Durmstrang girls who had blocked off an entire half of the first floor corridor.

"What's got you all up in arms today?" Adrian questioned, running to keep up with me.

"I'm not up in arms. I'm just tired of having to leave 15 minutes early to be able to make it to breakfast on time." I groaned at the sight of a Beauxbaton's couple locked at the lips.

"They're only going to be here until the tournaments over. And some of the Durmstrang guys are pretty cool." Adrien shrugged.

I abruptly swung around to face him, forcing Adrien to walk into me, as he didn't have enough time to stop. "They don't even let Muggleborns in their school. How cool can any of them be?"

Adrien sighed and turned me back around, guiding me to continue walking. "Don't tell me you're letting that Weasley boy get into your head already. You haven't even gone out with him yet."

"Piss off." I rolled my eyes, shaking his arms off of my shoulders. I quickly climbed down the stairwell next to me, and headed into the potions classroom. Adrien followed, sitting down beside me.

"How are you feeling about the date anyways? Change your mind yet?" He whispered as Snape strolled by.

I pulled out my potions textbook and set it on the table in front of us. "Nervous, I guess. I've never been on an actual date before- and like it or not I'm still going."

"Honestly, I'm surprised you said yes. Didn't think you cared about anything before the sex." Adrien mumbled, opening his book to the page number written on the board.

I slapped his arm, "That was so uncalled for."

"But not wrong."

"Why are you so concerned with what I chose to do?" I hissed back, flipping passed the potion instructions I was looking for.

"I'm not concerned. Just surprised is all." He huffed.

"Oh really? That's not what it sounds like to me. You've been such an arse since George asked me out. I don't know if you're just jealous or something, but you need to sort it out."

"Jealous? Is that what you think I am?" He snorted, rolling his eyes "You're that desperate for attention, now?"

"Seriously- what is your deal? I don't know what you want me to do." I cried, slamming my hands down on the table.

"Well maybe stop mentioning George when you know I'm in love with you!" Adrian hissed, his breathing starting to speed up.

"You brought it up! I haven't even- wait. You're... what?" I stuttered.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pucey and Miss Blythe- I was unaware that your conversation was more important than my potions lesson." Snape scowled, staring over at me and Adrian.

"M'sorry sir." We echoed, straightening up against his glare.

"As I was saying, you will be brewing a draught of peace. I expect you all to begin thinking about whether or not you want to be in this classroom next year. From the looks of it, my N.E.W.T.S level class will be quite small..."

~~~

George's P.O.V

Professor McGonagall was standing at the front of the room, demonstrating some spell we were supposed to be learning. My eyes were watching the clock above her heading, praying for the ticking to slow down. My date with Stevie was supposed to be tomorrow, and every hour that marked it closer made me more nervous.

Despite dreaming about this day for years, I never wanted it to come. I knew Fred and I were going to switch- because of my nerves being on high alert, it'd been happening every 30 minutes or so. During the actual date, there's no telling how often we could go back and forth.

Fred slid a note to me, his eyes not leaving the gerbil in the front of the room that had just been a tea cup moments ago.

You look like you're gonna to be sick.

I rolled my eyes before quickly scribbling down a response.

I’ll try to miss your shoes. No promises.

Fred snorted quietly and wrote back to me.

How about you pay attention? I haven't understood a thing she's said so you'll have to figure it out.

I crumpled up the note and shoved it into the pocket of my robes. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't manage to cling onto a word McGonagall was saying. My thoughts kept creeping back to the chance meeting on the astronomy tower, and the way her laugh sounded with her tired, morning voice.

I felt dazed, as if somehow I was Imperiused, but my anxiety was multiplied instead of fading away. Perhaps I'd rather be Imperiused than have this damned gnawing in my chest.

As soon as the clock signaled the end of class, I bolted up out of my seat. I heard Fred scrambling to follow me, trying to match my pace.

"Oi- what're you in such a rush for?" He called from behind me.

I sighed before slowing down, letting him catch up with me. "Just nervous s'all." I mumbled.

"Well knock it off- Lee just got our new shipment of goods in, and we've got a whole new selection of products to try out tonight. Our new prototype of fainting fancies should be ready by now!" Fred chattered.

I nodded and gave him a weak smile, my mind still drifting off to what was to come. Fred continued to rhapsodize about our new products, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I wasn't listening. I knew business would be booming, and Fred and Lee would need me on my A game to round up enough first years to try them out. As we passed the stairs to the dungeons, Stevie came storming up them, a desperate looking Adrian following behind her.

"Look- Stevie stop. Would you just listen to me?" Adrian cried, grabbing ahold of her forearm.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." She spat, attempting to wiggle her arm from his grasp.

"No," Adrien tightened his grip around her "not until you hear me out."

"Seriously A- you're hurting me." Stevie whimpered, no longer struggling against him.

"She said let go, mate." I snarled, standing protectively behind Stevie.

He let go of her arm with a huff, shoving it back to Stevie's side. "Oh great- her knight in second hand armor."

"Are we going to have a problem here?" Fred asked, coming to stand behind Adrian.

The combination of the fact that we were cornering him and that we towered over him quite a bit, made Adrian back down quite quickly.

"No. I guess we don't." He slinked away, turning fast on his heels and running back down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Are you alright, love?" I asked, moving to stand in front of Stevie.

She took in a shaky breath before nodding her head. Her arm was slightly red where Adrian had grabbed it, just showing below the hem of her sleeve.

"I'm gonna head up to the common room. I'll see you later." Freddie whispered, leaving Stevie and I alone, with the dozens of onlookers in the corridor.

"Do you wanna go somewhere and talk? Or I can take you back down to your common room." I offered, smiling softly at her.

"Uh yeah, I'd love to talk actually." Stevie started heading towards the front steps of the school, ignoring the glances of those around us.

I followed her, not asking where we were going. We passed through the entrance corridor, and she quickly began racing down the rest of the steps, heading towards the lake. Since it was beginning to fade into October, there was a slight chill in the air that got worse the farther we descended. Stevie didn't slow her pace until we were outside the boathouse and she yanked the handle, pulling open the solid wooden door.

"Shut it behind you. Last time we didn't, a blast ended skrewt followed us in here. It wasn't terribly fun." She called over her shoulder.

I did as she asked and watched as she began climbing the ladder into one of the boats hanging on the wall.

"Come here often I presume?" I joked, quickly climbing up after her.

"You can say that. I come here to get away from everyone. I don't usually bring other people here just..." Stevie's words trailed off.

"Pucey." I finished.

She nodded before wistfully looking across the room, lost in some thought I couldn't uncover even if I tried. There were multiple blankets and pillows piled in the boat, making it feel more like a hammock than anything else. We swayed slightly, the breeze growing stronger now, and I suddenly realized how nervous I was. Somehow the rush of being able to save her from Adrian had overshadowed the fact that I am absolutely terrified to be alone with her. Yet- when I looked at her face, her sad eyes glistening with unshed tears, I felt my fears melt away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offered, reaching out and gingerly taking one of her hands in mine. My quite large hands covered her dainty one easily. She was freezing, and I quickly picked up her other hand to help warm her a bit.

"I'm going to sound crazy." She smiled at me, shaking her head slightly.

"I know a thing or two about crazy. Try me." I encouraged, smiling back.

"I've known Adrian since our first year- he's one of the only people that I talk to. My dormmates suck, and so do his. Naturally, we quickly became friends and take every class together. He's my best friend, but after you asked me out it's like he changed. He was so mad at me for saying yes, and spent the past week trying to change my mind. Then during potions today he-" her voice trailed off and she took in a deep breath. I squeezed her hands lightly signaling her that it was okay to continue. "He told me he's in love with me. I knew he had feelings for me, but I thought it was a crush at best. Both of our parents have been pushing for it- nothing's better than a pureblood relationship to them. But who wants to grow up exactly according to their parents plans? Then suddenly I'm the arse because I don't want to date him? I've never seen him so mad before today. The way he looked at me right before you interrupted- it kind of scared me. And then I also kinda feel guilty because maybe our friendship this whole time was me unknowingly leading him on. Perhaps this is the only way to not disappoint my parents, go into a loveless marriage and then- fuck, I'm so sorry I'm just rambling to you."

I smiled at her and pulled her into my arms. Her body relaxed against mine, and I instinctively brought my hands to run through her hair. "You're not an arse just because you don't have feelings for someone. You don't need to do everything your parents want, either. You're allowed to have your own dreams."

She sniffled a little and laughed into my chest "You haven't met my parents."

"Well, I'll make sure to disappoint them when I do." I joked, closing my eyes.

We stayed there for a moment, just the two of us, swaying slightly in the boat. It was like we were the only people left in the world. My heart wasn't beating out of control- it was just thrumming desperately against my throat. My hands were calm and still against her body and I swore I could almost stay like that forever. She pulled away from chest and brought her face inches away from mine. I felt my breath hitch in my chest, stopping me from being able to breathe properly. I moved my hand to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Can I-?" I couldn't even get the words fully out before she crashed her lips into mine.

The world was sucked out from under me. I felt like I was floating- somewhere beyond time and space. There was nothing left except her lips on mine, and the smell of her perfume. I silently begged for more time here, for us not to switch right now. I pulled away from her lips and rested our foreheads together- I wanted this to be a moment between just the two of us, not letting Freddie be able to take over. I closed my eyes awaited the familiar sense of my soul being sucked out of my body, ready to be in the warm common room, to feel a lifetime away from this moment.

Yet, when I opened my eyes, I found Stevie's staring back at me.

"Did you...feel that?" She panted, pulling back from me.

"I- uh, yeah. I did." I coughed out, trying to catch my breath.

"Wicked." She grinned, and jumped forward to close the gap between our lips again.

~~~

#harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley imagine #hermione granger #harry potter fan fiction #ron weasley #angelina johnson #george weasley fic #george fabian weasley

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years

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Talking About It

Summary: After spending the last few years ignoring the second half of her brother's town-famous duo, Connie is more than shocked to find him at her door - on a weekend noless.

This is a Steve Harrington x OC (but feel free to interprate yourself as OC)

Pre-S4 but Post-S3

Slight warning - mentions of nightmares/terrors

Might do a Part 2? What'dya think?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Connie first found out the truth about what happened to the family cat, not much shocked her.

A mall explosion that was actually due to some upside-down creature? Nothing. A kid going missing and contacting his mother through a bunch of Christmas lights? Just another Monday.

But the one thing that did shock her was a knock on her front door on Saturday evening when she wasn't expecting anyone.

Dustin's friends knew he was away for a week visiting Suzie at an anual camp get-together. Their mom was also away for a week after she won a get-away cruise at work.

So Connie was left home alone and wasn't expecting a soul.

That was only a fraction of why she was shocked though.

Taking hold of the baseball bat, she slowly made her way over to the door.

She made sure no shadow was seen under the door as she looked through the peephole but when she did, she was more shocked at what she found.

Not a dead cat. Not a D&D named creature. Not even the Pizza guy - not that she had order a second pizza.

What she found was rather the fallen King of her high school who was now the babysitter or her brother and his friends when they went in search for danger.

"Harrington?" Connie whispered, confused, under her breath before she unlocked the door and he turned back around.

"Good, you're in."

"Yes, I'm in. Dustin's not home."

"Yeah, I know."

Connie knitted her brows together. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Well, as much as Mail is so much fun, I'd rather not have to read another five page letter from your brother only to get the same words in phone call an hour later."

"What?"

Relaxing his shoulders, Steve explained. "Dustin is worried about you. He asked me to keep an eye on you."

"An eye on me? Why?"

"Well, and I'm just spitballing here so correct me if I'm wrong-"

"Happily."

"You've been having nightmares and not sleeping. Now, I'm no shrink, but I do know movies so, while you're up, you might as well watch them."

"...okay? Still doesn't explain why you're here. Why you? Dustin could have called anyone else."

"Apparently, I'm the best option since I managed to keep those shits safe for, like, three years. So? You gonna leave me standing out here freezing or are you gonna let me in?"

Connie thought on it for a moment.

Even though Steve and Dustin seemed to be inseperable, herself and Steve had never really spoken much before. They hadn't even known one another in highschool. They were never in contact. But whenever he was in school, she didn't much like him. He was an asshole after all. But Dustin always vouched for him that he had changed. And he wasn't wrong. Steve had kept Dustin and his friends safe - well, as safe as he could get them.

"Fine."

"Thank you." Steve said, raising his arms up as he held a plastic bag in each, lowering his head a little.

Moving aside, she allowed him inside, which was when he spotted her weapon of choice.

"What? You gonna attack me or something?"

"Just wasn't expecting anyone s'all."

Steve gave her a look. "Okay...?"

Connie moved back, locking the door behind him whilst he escaped into the kitchen to grab a few bowls for the snacks he'd brought. Dustin's letters were very detailed.

"So, since I'm here, you wanna talk?"

"You're not my shrink."

"Hey, I'm doing this as a favour for Henderson. And I don't really want him chasing me with a baseball bat because I didn't help his sister. So, talk."

Sliding onto one of the kitchen counter seats whilst Steve unpacked the bags, Connie folded her hands together.

"There's nothing to talk about. I've been having nightmares. End of story."

"End of story? Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, so...cold sweats, vivid images and shaking shivers are just something Dustin made up?"

"Wha..How did you-"

"His letters are very detailed."

Connie rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"So?...Look, we could go round and round in circles or you could just talk to me. I can be a good listener."

Connie kept his eye contact for a short while before sighing and giving in. "Fine."

"It's nothing major. Just my memory reminding me of things."

"Of what things?"

"Will going missing. That..thing eating the cat. The mall, Billy-"

There was a brief moment of awkward silence. "Billy and I were never close. In fact, I was ready to beat the shit out of him almost as much as you did. Maybe more. But when I saw that thing go through him...it was like it was in slow motion, you know. And it's not like it's the first death I've witnessed. You know. After all, Hawkins is becoming famous for it. Land of the dead and what-not. But it was the first that felt...real. Even if everything around us doesn't seem like it is. It was just so...real." Connie's mind seemed to wander for a moment before she finally snapped back. "I-I don't know. It was just a lot to process. I was fine for a while after - no nightmares, no nothing. But then we had fireworks at Halloween and the lights and the sounds...I guess they just brought back memories. One's I thought had gone."

"I get it."

"You do?"

Steve nodded, the pair now walking into the living room. "Sure. I kinda felt the same after those fireworks. We've all had a fair share of night terrors."

"Have they ever felt real, though? As if you're living it again. That you don't know if you have the opportunity to wake back up?"

This stunned Steve into silence. They all suffered with nightmares every now and then. Who wouldn't? People seemed to die left, right and centre when it came to the holidays. But they knew they were nightmares.

"It started with Dustin. I'd be dreaming of when we were kids with mom and dad setting off fireworks. He was only a baby, but it was one of my best memories of us. But then...I'd be back in the mall. And rather than El, it would be Dustin." Connie explained. "I knew they were nightmares then, but after that...it was like being stuck in time. I couldn't move fast enough until finally I came sliding around the corner and grabbed Max before she could go and throw herself into danger and get herself killed."

Then after a few moments of silence: "It just impaled him."

Steve didn't really know what to say. What do you say to someone when they've told you that? What do you say when you can see it in their eyes that they're reliving the moment as they talk about it? How do you make the pain go away?

So, after a long silence, Steve finally held up the movie case.

"Grease?"

"Sure."

And everything seemed to go back to a comfortable slightly new normal.

"I wouldn't have took you as a musical's guy."

"I'm not. But Dustin sent me a list he and Suzie put together. I figured we'd work from the top."

Connie gave a small smile. The first she'd done in weeks - months, maybe.

"Sounds like a plan."

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