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dameronscopilot · 2 years

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can i get poe dameron, dry humping, voice kink and praise kink with “you know you live me” as shes stubborn to admit she likes him pretty please

Insufferable

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, dry humping, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink

Summary: Avoiding Poe Dameron (and his unfailing charm) isn't quite so easy anymore when you end up stranded on an ice planet with him.

MASTERLIST || MORE KINKTOBER

Agreeing to embark on a reconnaissance mission with Poe Dameron was hardly conducive to your continued efforts to ignore him. And yet here you were—stranded for the night on a miserable ice planet, ship firmly grounded thanks to the wet, frigid winds that had sent you down for an emergency landing in the first place…with one insufferable pilot as your only company.

From the moment you joined the Resistance, Poe had been flummoxed by the way you seamlessly brushed off his advances at every turn. It’s not that you didn’t find him attractive—entirely the opposite, actually. Just his voice was unfortunately enough to inspire many a late night fantasy, let alone his charming smile and warm, brown eyes. It was a fact you’d begrudgingly accepted early on.

The issue was that you’d known plenty of cocky, pretty flyboys like him when you were a pilot with the New Republic, and you knew their game all too well. No goddamn thanks. You had zero interest in being just another notch in Poe’s cockpit.

You could tell Poe was used to effortlessly charming women into his orbit, could see it in the way he employed new tactics on a daily basis in a futile attempt to win you over. But what he didn’t know was that the only thing that you were better at than flying an X-wing was being stubborn. If he thought he possibly had the wherewithal to wear you down, he had another thing coming.

This disastrous mission should have been quick and painless, bringing you back to the base in less than a day’s time. Though your heart had lurched when the assignment had popped up on your datapad alongside Poe’s name, you’d told yourself there was nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately, as things in your life were often wont to do, that self reassurance had blown up spectacularly in your face.

Which is how you now found yourself curled into a ball in one of the bunks, shivering uncontrollably thanks to the way the raging cold of the storm outside had unforgivingly slipped in through each and every nook and cranny in the ship’s exterior.

Poe had been fairly quiet thus far, which was a shocking turn of events given his general track record of talking your ear off whenever he was near you. Perhaps it hadn’t helped that you’d snapped at him the other day when he’d tried to offer you some help in repairing a blown thruster on your starfighter. Admittedly, your attitude had been entirely uncalled for, and you’d even gone so far as to look for him in the mess hall later that night to apologize (his response had been a mere nod before turning back to his dinner).

His voice interrupted you from your thoughts. “It’ll be a miracle if we don’t freeze to death tonight.”

You pulled down the blanket that was covering your face to glance over at where he was standing a few feet away. “It’s a miracle we haven’t frozen to death yet, Dameron.” you groused miserably, teeth chattering.

A rare look of uncertainty skirted across Poe’s features as he leveled you with a look of consideration before he said, “I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, and he gestured with his chin toward where you were currently fighting for your life to retain your body heat in the cocoon of several blankets. Heat flared in your gut at the implication. “You’re right,” you groaned.

“About what?”

“I don’t like it.”

Poe crossed his arms. “So you’d rather freeze than cuddle with me in a totally platonic, fighting-for-survival, probably-going-to-die-otherwise kind of way?”

Glaring at him, you rolled over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After a beat, you groaned loudly and dramatically lifted up the edge of the blanket.

You could hardly hear the sounds of him shirking off his jacket and dropping his blaster holster to the floor over the thunderous, erratic beating of your heart. This was not on the fucking itinerary.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt your internal meltdown, but can you scoot over?”

Biting back the retort dancing on the tip of your tongue, you looked down to see that you’d barely offered him a sliver of real estate on the thin mattress beside you. With a huff, you slid closer to the wall behind you.

“Thanks,” he acknowledged, before climbing in and slipping under the covers.

Poe watched as you involuntarily placed a few extra inches of space between you, his lips twitching upward in a smirk. “I don’t bite.”

“Hm,” you replied, unable to formulate anything beyond your noncommittal response when he was this close to you.

“The whole point of sharing body heat is to touch,” he added mildly.

“I’m aware,” you snapped, closing the space between the two of you with more force than you’d intended. One of your ankles ended up tucked between his, and your knees knocked together. Admittedly, you could already feel the warmth radiating off of him from underneath your shared blanket.

Your head was tucked in slightly toward his chest, partially to avoid looking at him, though you swore you could feel his eyes fixated on the top of your head, the weight of his gaze heavy in the stark silence between the two of you.

When Poe finally spoke, there was an unfamiliar edge to it. “Why do you hate me?”

Despite the knee jerk response that you wanted to give him, that you’d normally give him on any other day, something about his tone made you hesitate.

“I don’t…hate you,” you responded slowly.

Poe made a dismissive noise. “Then what’s your problem with me?”

You sighed, weighing your options, ultimately opting to go with the truth. Shifting to meet his eyes, you explained, “I knew plenty of guys like you back when I flew with the New Republic. You know, handsome, cocky ace pilots.”

He was quiet for a moment before he finally said, “So you think I’m handsome.”

“Don’t get sidetracked, Dameron,” You snapped. “My point is, I know your type. And the last time I smiled back at a pilot like you, he ended up breaking my heart. So I’m unfortunately no longer in the business of setting myself up for failure.”

Poe bit his lip, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry.”

Something inside of you warmed involuntarily at the softness of his tone. “For what?”

“That someone treated you like that. You deserve better.”

You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was clanging around in your chest. “I’m sorry that I let him.”

Poe considered you for a moment, and he looked almost sheepish when he finally spoke again. “I hope you know I’m not just interested in you because you know your way around an X-wing.”

You snorted. “Heard that line before, Dameron.”

He carried on as if you hadn’t spoken. “I’m crazy about you because you’re brilliant. You don’t hesitate to put your entire heart and soul into this fight against the First Order. And you’re one of the bravest soldiers in the Resistance.”

Crazy about you?

Oh.

He continued, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room or under the covers spread through your limbs, “I mean, I’m not gonna lie. It’s also very hard for me to ignore the fact that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met can fly circles around my entire squadron. But I digress.”

You were suddenly having a hard time remembering exactly why you’d insisted on putting so much goddamn distance between you and the man currently staring at you like you were the brightest star in the galaxy.

“Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” you lamented, trying to keep your voice steady as you scooted a hair closer to him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, gently pressing a kiss to the top of your head and resting a hand on top of yours.

As your exhaustion from the stress of the day finally caught up to you, sleep soon took over. And if you were conscious, you’d be quite embarrassed to discover that there was no escaping your secret late night fantasies about Poe Dameron, not even when he was unknowingly fast asleep beside you. But instead, when you found yourself laying underneath of him in a dream, you didn’t hesitate to crane your neck upward, pressing your lips to his.

Poe kissed you back with fervor, one hand cupping the back of your head as he dipped his tongue into your mouth. In your dreams, the rhythm of his tongue sliding against yours as he devoured your mouth was a familiar dance. He bit your lip, and you mewled, drawing a chuckle out of him as he ran his nose along your cheek, his stubble brushing against your chin.

As the kiss grew deeper and hungrier, Poe’s hand slid down to grip at your waist, his thumb tucking into the hem of your pants. You arched upward into him, eager for more friction, which he playfully denied you of. Whining in frustration, you slipped a hand between your bodies and cupped him between his legs, feeling how hard he already was for you. The smile on his face fell as he moaned, pushing his cock against your palm, and you smirked before flipping him over and straddling him.

You leaned down, kissing him sweetly on the mouth as you began to grind down on him, both of you groaning in unison at the pleasurable feeling of his thick shaft pressing against your hot core.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Poe’s husky voice in your ear, and you froze as a cold, numbing feeling of mortification washed over you. You realized that you had indeed rolled over on top of him in your sleep, and based on the dampness between your legs and the throbbing of his length between you, you hadn’t just been laying there.

“I—” you choked out, mind unable to come up with any sort of a reasonable explanation as to why you were currently dry humping him.

“Don’t stop,” Poe breathed out, his voice rougher than usual.

You weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. “What?”

“Unless you want to stop,” he clarified.

You’d deal with the rational part of your mind later. Right now, you were far too distracted by the feeling of him pressed against you. You pushed your hips flush to his, and he moaned. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you did it again, your juices soaking through your pants entirely as you ran your cunt along the length of Poe’s cock.

“Were you dreaming about me?” he asked.

Fuck it.

“Yeah, I was.”

Poe groaned again, his hands curling around your hips as you dropped your head down against his collarbone. “You look so fucking beautiful rubbing yourself all over my cock. Think I’m gonna come just like this.”

His breath was hot against your ear, and the cadence of his voice sent a fresh gush of arousal leaking out of your folds. Your breath hitched.

“Keep going,” he whispered.

You pressed down against him again, the ache between your thighs growing more demanding, and one of your hands ended up threaded in Poe’s curls.

“Good girl.”

As the praise fell from his lips, your empty cunt clenched down on nothing, and your legs trembled. Poe noticed, and he cupped the side of your face, looking into your eyes.

Licking his lips, he added, “You’re so wet for me, I can feel it soaking through your pants. Bet you’d take me so fucking well, stuffed in that pretty little pussy.”

Your heart raced, your cunt throbbing as you began to desperately press down against him, chasing your rapidly approaching climax. He met your thrusts in time, and you keened at the feeling of his callused fingers skimming the place where your shirt had ridden up, exposing your stomach.

Poe’s mouth hovered a breath away from yours, and he spoke his next words against your lips. “Come for me.”

The livewire of tension coiled in your gut snapped, your orgasm flooding through you in a wave of white hot pleasure. Poe’s hips began to stutter as he rode out his climax moments later, spilling ropes of cum inside of his pants. You collapsed on top of him, both of you panting heavily.

“Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me like the plague now?” he eventually asked, once you’d both caught your breath.

You grinned against his chest. “I can’t make any promises.”

He scoffed and nipped at your ear. “You know you love me.”

“You’re insufferable, Poe Dameron,” you sighed, lifting your head up slightly and wrapping one of his curls around your finger before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Read the time skip sequel - INSATIABLE

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#Poe Dameron fanfiction #Poe Dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #Poe Dameron smut #Oscar Isaac fanfiction #Star Wars fanfiction #Kinktober #dameronscopilot kinktober #dee writes

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goldeneyedgirl · 5 months

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TwiFicmas23 Day 4: Anathema

Today has been a bit of a mess, and now we've had a small change of plans because today's intended fic is missing a chunk.

So we have two scenes from Anathema since @sonyawix asked so nicely. These follow on straight from Alice and Jasper's very awkward and public first meeting; Anathema is so fun to write honestly.

I hope everyone has a good day, and I'll be back tomorrow!

anathema

The car ride home from the meeting was silent, with both Freddie and I mulling over what had just transpired with the Cullens, and exactly what it meant for us.

Because there was one thing we didn’t want anyone to figure out, especially the council.

And it was the fact that I wasn’t entirely human. I wasn’t just gifted.

My biological father was a vampire.

It was practically unheard of, according to Jeannie. Nearly impossible for a vampire to father a child, let alone for the mother to carry the pregnancy to term. And Jeannie had never heard, in all her family’s diaries and archives, of any of the mothers surviving the birth.

My mom had been no exception. Lilian Brandon-Myer had died within moments of my birth, when I had ripped my way out of her body with her sharp little teeth. The human body isn’t designed to survive that kind of trauma. I keep telling myself that - there was no way anyone could have saved her. It was a damn miracle that she had even made it that far, really.

I really didn’t know that much about her. She’d been twenty-seven years old, worked at an art gallery, and had been married for two years, to Richard. I had one memory of her, wispy and thin since I was only moments old - wide blue eyes in a thin, pale face; dark hair, and a lot of blood. She was probably already dead.

My mother had been Freddie’s baby sister, and he had doted on her - I’d heard all the stories, how much he’d adored her. He’d been completely and utterly destroyed when my mother had died. Hell, Jeanie had alluded that she and Freddie had cared for her during her pregnancy, trying to keep her alive long enough to give birth. And then I had been born a freak of nature, growing so much faster than a human baby. They couldn’t dump me on social services when, by my first birthday, I was already the same as a human three-year-old.

And Mom’s husband had been too… normal to take me, and I’m not sure he’d have wanted to; I was what killed her. He never would have been able to cope with the realities of the supernatural, let alone raising a vampire-human hybrid who aged three times faster than an ordinary child. Jeanie, at least, had one foot in the supernatural world, and generations of family lore and history to navigate raising me safely.

She always said that she and Freddie had never been blessed with children of their own, so I was their special gift. I don’t know if either of us really believed that but it was a nice sentiment.

Even my ‘sister’ wasn’t really any relation to me. Cynthia was Richard’s daughter with his second wife, and my one link to the real, normal world. I had no idea how Freddie convinced Rich to let us be raised as ‘sisters’, but I was grateful - I adored Cynthia, and I wish we could have spent more time together. Rich was actually a really nice guy; he called me on my birthday, and sent me gifts, and always told me that I was the spitting image of Mom and she would have been so proud of me. Honestly, everything I know about Mom, I got from Rich; Freddie never spoke of her, and Jeanie always promised she’d tell me more when I was older.

“What are we going to do?” I asked softly, and Freddie sighed and shook his head. “D’you want me to go to the beach house?”

Freddie and Jeanie raised me in an isolated house near Neah Bay for the first couple of years, to keep me out of sight - Freddie commuted to the funeral home as needed. As far as the Forks’ locals knew, I had come into their custody when I was ‘twelve’; in reality, I was fully-grown at seven years old and was just slight enough to pass as a middle-schooler with a few adjustments - it’s amazing what a too-big dress and a pair of pink plastic glasses could do. I really had looked like a child being raised by an older couple; awkward and unfashionable.

But we’d kept the beach house; Freddie and I drove up a few times a year to make sure it was maintained and secure. Freddie had gone to no small amount of trouble and expense to make sure that no one knew we owned the property, especially anyone in Forks. It had to stay as a safe house in case everything went sour.

One thing that Jeanie was intensely aware of was the Quileutes’ history with the Cold Ones, and she swore that they could never, ever know about me. That she didn’t know what the Blacks and the Clearwaters would do if they found out about me. They would certainly argue that we couldn’t function as Mediators, because we couldn’t be impartial when my sperm donor was a vampire. There was a very, very good chance they’d banish me from the reservation, and hold me to the treaty - if not try and run Freddie and I out of town entirely.

Or even try to hurt me.

I hated that; the idea that Sue Clearwater - who had done so much heavy lifting in our household after Jeanie died - could turn on me. That Leah and I wouldn’t tease each other, or that I’d never be able to go down to La Push with the twins again. Besides, I was functionally human - I ate, I slept, I bled, I used the bathroom, I wasn’t venomous - Jeanie had run dozens of tests over the years. My heart-beat was faster than a humans, and I ran warm on a good day, but now that I was mature, I was just me. Just Alice Brandon, illegal mortician.

And Jeanie and Freddie had established so many precautions over the years - Jeanie had avoided feeding me blood as a baby or any sort of meat - raising me as a vegetarian human - and to this day I wonder if that’s why I’m so small, that my growth was somewhat stunted. But it was a choice she made for my best interests, so I couldn’t hold any resentment for that. I had been kept away from other children and most other humans until I was fully grown and could understand the severity of the situation and how important the rules were; and even then, I had dozens of rules about things I could and couldn’t do, so not to ever reveal any similarity to vampires.

But Jeanie was certain that Sue and Billy Black would basically turn me into a pariah if they ever caught wind of the situation, and she hadn’t wanted that for me. So, we had kept that a secret. We never spoke of it.

But now that the Cullens were here, everything was at risk - would they know? Would they guess? Had they guessed? Vampire senses were so strong, and perhaps Jasper’s reaction to me had been because of my biology - would my reaction to Jasper Cullen clue anyone in, or could it be hand-waved away by my gift?

And if they did figure it out, would they tell the Council - perhaps use it as a bargaining chip to renegotiate the treaty?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t know; no decision had been made. But I didn’t want to discuss it with them, perhaps negotiate for their silence, in case they hadn’t worked it out.

Ugh, I hated this so much. I was already mentally packing my bags to hide up in the beach house until we could guarantee I was safe. I’d have to stay there alone; Freddie had the funeral home to run. I’d be lonely and bored and worried, stuck in an old house that was full of ghosts. It was Jeanie’s house, and being there without her… I didn’t like it.

We pulled up in front of the funeral home and Freddie looked at me. “It’s alright Alice,” he said finally, sounding tired. “We’ll go in and talk to the others, and worry about everything else tomorrow. There’s no need to panic, I promise.”

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I said softly, and we both knew I wasn’t talking about my moment with Jasper.

“I know, pet, I know.”

I made coffee faster than any living being in the world before hightailing it downstairs, to the funeral home’s parlour, where the meeting was happening. Or rather, five adults were having a nuclear meltdown.

“He will not be allowed anywhere near her!” Freddie’s face was bright red as he paced the room. “I want it added to the laws! He’s a damn monster, and I will not lose another…”

“We know, Freddie,” Sue sighed, arms crossed over her chest. “And we agree with you that the Cullens should be informed that Alice is off-limits.”

“But can we do that?” Charlie Swan looked exhausted. “Can he do that? Billy - one of the imprints; could one of the wolves physically stay away from their imprint? Does it work the same way for vampires?”

The Clearwaters and Billy Black exchanged looks.

“I don’t know about vampires, but no, the wolf could not stay away from their imprint. We’ve seen it attempted before,” Billy said finally. “And most attempts do not last long. We don’t know what a long-term attempt would look like for the wolf or the imprint.”

“Sickness?” Charlie asked. “Feral behaviour? Violence? Madness? Death?”

They all exchanged glances and I decided it was time to make my presence known.

“You’re not going to hurt Jasper?” I asked in my most innocent voice, my eyes wide, and my lip trembling. It wouldn’t work on the Clearwaters, or Freddie - he was too upset - but I knew Charlie Swan wouldn’t be able to deal with a crying teenage girl.

Harry took the coffee tray from me as they all exchanged loaded looks.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, sniffling.

“Calm down, Alice,” Billy said in an even voice. “We’re just discussing our options.”

“I don’t like the idea that keeping them separated could result in violence,” Harry said grimly. “We can’t risk it.”

“But you’re willing to risk Alice?” Freddie exploded.

“He’s not ‘risking’ me!” I yelled back. “No one is! Jasper won’t hurt me!” I looked Freddie in the eye. “You know that!”

“None of us know that,” Freddie shot back. “And I refuse to stand by and let history repeat itself with those monsters!”

“Mom was attacked and raped by Red-Eyes!” I shot back. “The treaty said the Cullens can’t drink human blood! All Jasper wants to do is hold my hand and talk to me!”

Billy Black snorted, and I saw Sue and Harry exchange looks.

“Alice, he was sniffing your hair,” Sue said slowly. “And the look on his face…”

I looked at her bewildered, and quickly ran through the overflow of visions I’d had. There were a couple that got… well. I would have protested doing that with such a large audience, and it was obvious that his brothers and sister wouldn’t have let him get very far. The fact that that was one of his initial reactions to me was… well, I was a little flattered, to be honest.

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “No, he changed his mind, like, 30 times in less than a minute. That’s why my visions went haywire - my brain couldn’t process that much information that quickly. I think he was doing something, like he w-“

“He’s gifted?” Sue interrupted me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d have to ask him. In person.”

Freddie was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“We negotiate. I’m sure the Cullens will be agreeable,” I said soothingly. “Chaperoned meetings, like in the olden days, for my protection. All above board and very G-rated. Hell, we can even sit here in the parlour. Just talking.”

“It would lower the risk of any sort of violence to get to Alice, it’s on neutral territory, and we have no idea what keeping them apart could do to Alice,” Harry sighed. “An imprint can feel the effect of a strained bond, it can take a toll on their long-term health…”

“It’s not happening!” Freddie threw up his hands.

“Freddie, you need to listen to us,” Sue said, trying to act as peacekeeper. “I don’t know what a mate bond looks like in vampires or how it’s formed, but what we do know that in the wolves, it will actively hurt Alice to be kept away from him - she will get sick.”

“What if it was Leah? Or Jacob and the blonde vampire?” Freddie snapped back. “Or Isabella or Seth? Would you still be standing here, telling me that this is a-a risk I just have to accept? Even without Lilian…” Freddie put his face in his hands and took a shuddering breath. “Would you?” he glared at Sue.

Sue frowned. “That is a totally different situation, Fred,” she said evenly. “I don’t believe our genetics would allow such a bond to form. But if it were Leah, I would do every single thing I could to protect her from harm - the harm of a vampire and the harm of a broken bond. I would not allow my daughter to suffer in such a way.”

Freddie was shaking his head. “No, no, I don’t believe you. And Alice isn’t your daughter. She’s my niece. She’s staying right here. He can stay on the Cullen property! They’re never seeing each other again.”

“No.”

Everyone swung around to look at me, and I caught a look of myself in the mirror over the console table - I didn’t look like myself at all. My expression was hard and mutinous. My voice was stern and flat.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I can only work through the visions I’ve had. But you cannot stop Jasper Cullen and I from seeing each other,” I said in that same, flat tone. There was a tight feeling in my chest, and all I could think of was that look of naked hope on Jasper Cullen’s face when I protested his brother’s roughness. His voice telling his alpha or father or whatever that I was his. He was also mine.

Freddie was looking at me in horror, and even Harry was looking a little worried.

“Alice…” Charlie sounded pained, and Billy had taken to gulping at coffee that he looked like he wanted to throw on me.

“Better a chaperoned meeting than him climbing in her bedroom window, or running away with her,” Harry muttered and Freddie choked.

“I promise that I will obey whatever guidelines I am given,” I said carefully. “I won’t hide any relevant information from the Council, or put anyone in unnecessary danger. I don’t know what this is, but I do know that meeting Jasper Cullen was inevitable. I’ve Seen him before.”

I think Sue chose that moment to remember my vision about the gurney, as she turned grey, then red, and then looked like she needed something stronger than coffee.

“Do you know what happens if you don’t see him again?” Charlie asked.

“No, I don’t. And I don’t want to,” I said frankly.

Freddie sat on the couch, looking exhausted.

“Someone’s going to need to make decisions for Alice in the Council,” Sue said finally. “Freddie, you’re our Mediator. You can’t be objective if you’ve got Alice to worry about. None of us can do it. And none of the Cullens can do it. We’re all compromised.”

“Ask Dulcie,” I said and everyone looked at me. “She’s been here for years, I think she deserves to be read-in. She can be my guardian ad litem in the Council, and she’d finally understand some of the weirder stuff that goes on around here. Like the limb-bucket.”

Charlie winced at the reminder of that particular incident.

Freddie sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Dulcie’s not a bad choice,” he admitted.

“Plus, now you’ll have to marry her,” I said cheerfully. “Now, I’m going to bed, so you can finish talking about me without me.” And with that, I headed back upstairs for a hot shower and some sleep.

#alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #my fic: anathema #my fic: funeral home #jasper is back at the cullens half-pining and half-giddy being mocked by emmett and scolded by carlisle #he's only been with the cullens a short time and still feels very lonely and now this pretty girl likes him #meanwhile alice has to explain her future soulmate is a serial killer but he'll definitely never hurt her and will take good care of her #sue will be drinking wine tonight

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buckyownsmylife · 2 years

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Fuel to the Fire - Chapter 14

The one where Andy isn’t the type of man you can deny, even if what he wants is for you to become his mistress.

Andy Barber is a feared mobster and your best friend’s husband. There were more than enough reasons never to look at him twice. But when he lets you know that he wants you, there’s little you can do to stop the terrible trainwreck you know it’s coming your way.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Andy’s P.O.V.

Andy knew something was wrong the second his private plane left the airport. For the first time in his life, his chest constricted during take off, and he genuinely thought he might die. It was only once the plane was already in the sky and the feeling didn’t disappear that he realized it had nothing to do with where he was.

It was who he was with.

“Where’s the champagne?” Erica snapped her manicured nails towards the stewardess while her mother laughed and Andy suddenly had a flashback to who his wife was when they met. So young and innocent, who would have thought she’d become… this?

He did. That’s why he’d picked her.

He could still remember that day so clearly. How he saw her dancing in the middle of the nightclub, obviously desperate to attract the gaze of any male who might be interested, at that point in the evening. And right next to her, you.

Now, you were everything Erica was not. Unaware and unassuming, you danced because you enjoyed doing so - that much was clear for the world to see. The way you moved your hips to the beat of the song, mouthing the words and giggling to yourself when you got one of them wrong. You didn’t care if someone wasn’t enjoying the show. In fact, Andy was willing to bet you’d prefer if no one was watching.

Unfortunately, that clearly wasn’t the case. And for as much as he wanted to stomp over and steal you away, the attraction he felt towards you was too much, too soon. He wasn’t used to feeling anything. Being suddenly swept away with the need to call you his terrified him.

So he forced himself to turn away. Tell his men to keep an eye on the both of you. And while they were at it, gather all the information they could find on the two friends who’d stumbled into his nightclub clearly looking for a good time.

Erica left with a random guy that night, but you went home alone. You always went home alone.

That particular piece of information Andy gathered in the following months, as he watched you both from afar. He watched and analyzed, silently adding onto the files his men had already compiled of the both of you. And in the four months it took him to make a decision as to what he’d do about the woman he was so clearly obsessed with, he realized you were everything he couldn’t like.

Sweet and caring. Passionate and devoted. There was no way you’d survive in the world he ruled, and if he was to ever claim you, he’d go down for it. And that was something Andy just couldn’t afford to do.

So he forced himself to turn away. At first, completely. He had someone keep an eye on you still, of course, but he told him only to report back in case of danger. He didn’t like to learn about your financial shortcomings, but he forced himself to let it go.

You weren’t his to take care of, simply put. It didn’t matter that he both wanted and had the money to help you. There was no way he’d be able to get so close to your fire and not burn himself.

But even despite telling himself he loved his life too much to risk losing everything for a woman, he couldn’t let it go. He tried to fuck other women, even considered dating someone new, but nothing worked.

Until he ran into Erica and she threw herself at him. Suddenly, the high he was looking for was right there: if he couldn’t fuck you, at least he could do that with her. The idea was to use her until his little problem was solved, but when the sexual appeal disappeared, having your best friend in his life proved to be beneficial.

He could still remember the first time she introduced the both of you to one another. How happy you were for your friend, while he could only focus on how your dress clinged to your body in ways that made him want to undress you.

That night, Erica and him had the best sex they ever had. Images of you helped him fuck his girlfriend and if she thought something was off, she didn’t mention. But after experiencing the effects just one evening with you provoked in his behavior, he knew he couldn’t just let you go.

Even if it was through Erica.

So he married her.

No one suspected it was a marriage of appearances - not even his wife. Well, maybe his men questioned it, but they didn’t have any reason (or the guts) to question it. And in the beginning, it was perfect.

Being connected to the best friend of the woman he craved was the utmost forbidden fantasy. The more you visited or spend any sort of time with Erica, the more he felt that flame burning in the pit of his stomach - the need to fuck his wife like the whore he wished she could be.

He pretended she was you, or that she knew he didn’t think of her when they fucked, and it worked. It worked for many years, to the point where Andy was sure he had gotten over his weird obsession - but that was all until he found out you’d been on dating apps, trying to find your happily-ever-after.

It started out innocent enough (or as innocent as anything Andy Barber touched or was interested in could be). He watched out for your dates, making sure none of them sticked around for long, and it could have been a fool proof plan, if you hadn’t decide to create an OnlyFans.

Of course, he knew you struggled. Heck, he’d been wracking his brain trying to come out with some sort of way to help you, but the second he saw one of your racier pictures, it was all over - for the both of you.

He knew that he needed to have you.

These weeks without you had been the worst of his life. Now that he knew what it was like to actually fuck you, nothing could replace that feeling of ecstasy in between your legs - especially not having sex with his wife.

He’d never masturbated that much in his entire life. Not even when he was just a teenager. But jacking off to the thought of you was not enough, and neither was forcing himself to touch his frigid wife, who was much more interested in taking selfies and drinking her weight in expensive wine, anyway.

He took the private plane back home, to you, and left her there the second the Christmas party was over, not even waiting for the unboxing of the gifts the next morning. He knew she’d be over the moon over her new purse and matching shoes.

She wouldn’t even notice he wasn’t there.

He had to touch himself four times just on the plane, cursing the pilot for not being able to fly any faster - the anticipation of fucking you again after so long getting the best of him. And then, once he did just that, you surprised him with a sweet, thoughtful gift? Something he actually had use for, and not just something you bought as some sort of manipulative move to make him feel bad or to get him to buy you more stuff?

You got him a gift because it reminded you of him. You’d thought of him while he was away, and you decided to buy him something. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made to him. You shouldn’t be buying him anything - that was his job. He was the one supposed to support you and give you everything you might need. And yes, you might have used his own money to buy him a gift, but he didn’t like the idea of you using his money on him.

This was way worse than a manipulative move. This was a true gift, and he was not used to receiving gifts - never been.

His lips tingled from the quick kiss you pressed on them after you explained what it was that you got them. You didn’t even stick around for a reaction, forcing him to fake a smile or say his mind.

No, you just got out of bed and directly into the shower, and for once in his life, Andy didn’t know what to do with himself. So he followed you under the water and let it wash away all of the uncertainties you were bringing into him.

#fuel to the fire #andy barber #andy barber angst #angst #andy barber x reader #andy barber series #andy barber reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber reader insert #andy barber reader inserts #andy barber fic #andy barber fics

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danganronpa-21 · 8 months

Note

Can you please do a HoshiMatsu (Ryoma x Kaede) hurt comfort scenario where they go through survivor’s guilt from the killing game? Gonta’s the third survivor being the the greatest comfort too. Also Shuichi’s the traitor like Sakura.

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

General Warnings: Mentions of Canon Typical Violence

Fandoms: Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony

Relationships: Ryoma Hoshi/Kaede Akamatsu, Ryoma Hoshi & Gonta Gokuhara, Kaede Akamatsu & Gonta Gokuhara

Additional Tags: Survivor’s Guilt, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship

Chapter Word Count: 6,014 words

Chapter Summary: Kaede is the most cheerful, optimistic person that Ryoma has ever known... and that only makes it worse when he can see that she's hurting, but she won't tell him why.

[Read it on AO3.]

Ryoma would never love again after losing Mio.

This is what he told himself before shit somehow hit the fan even harder than it had before. Assuming it had, anyway. He still had no way of knowing if what Tsumugi said was actually the truth. Perhaps his entry into her killing school life truly was the beginning of shit hitting the fan, and he’d actually lived a fairly normal existence before that… well, as normal as you could get, being obsessed with a reality TV show where contestants lose all sense of self and get murdered for the amusement of their peers. He still shivers when he thinks about the kind of person he might have been. There is still no way of knowing, but he can’t seem to stop his mind from drifting there from time to time. Kaede is constantly reminding him that he shouldn’t.

Kaede… He would never love after Mio, but then, out of nowhere in the darkest times of an especially dark life, there was Kaede.

From the moment they met, she flooded his being with pep and optimism. Confident, plucky, and incredibly friendly, she never struck him as the kind of girl that he would go after. A man who had nothing to live for had little to say to a girl who seemed to believe in the beauty of the world around her. He couldn’t relate to her insistence that they should try to be friends, that everything was not as bad as it seemed, and that they should try one last time to escape. His first impression of her was that she was simply exhausting. He had no idea how anyone could afford to have that much energy, especially in a place that was determined to crush them. Even when they lost their first classmate, a cool and stoic girl named Maki, Kaede kept her head up. She encouraged everyone to keep working together to solve the mystery of their killing school life and get home safe. No matter how many times they stumbled, she was always there, begging her classmates to just try things one more time.

Perhaps that was what he came to like about her, in the end. She was always a glass half-full kind of person. It applied to every part of her life. He imagines that’s why, in the end, she could come to love someone like him, too. He could think himself a beast, yet she would look at him as if he painted puffy white clouds in the sky just to fascinate her. A killing game was the last place he anticipated surviving, let alone finding love, so the experience was more than a little odd to him… but in the end, they were two of three who survived it all, who came out the other end when Tsumugi made every possible attempt to crush them. And, in the end, it was the two of them against the world – well, the two of them and Gonta, anyway.

It had been three months since their release from the Killing School Life, and the three of them had holed themselves up in a dingy two-bedroom apartment, trying to figure out where to go next. It was cramped and smelled a bit like feet, but it still felt like freedom in comparison to the enclosed dome of the Gifted Inmates Academy. It was warm, dry, and they could come and go as they pleased, so Ryoma saw no reason for complaining. He did his best to keep things clean where he could, and Kaede and Gonta had taken to decorating it where they could. After all, Gonta’s gentlemanly sensibilities connected well with Kaede’s thoughtful tastes, so they found that the two of them worked well together as a home furnishing team. If they needed someone to fix a leak in the piping of the sink, though, that was all Ryoma. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and they would happily work together to make it more of something.

Some days, it was harder to do that than others.

The sorrows of their unknown pasts and unforeseeable futures had a habit of grating on them, making it damn near impossible to accomplish anything. If one of them was overtaken by a dark cloud, a faint reminder of what they lost or a flickering memory of one of their dead classmates; it was over. They could be out of commission for days or even weeks. The other two, whoever they were, would take care of them – they were all they had, of course they would – but it would be hard to keep up morale. It is crushing enough for one of them to be experiencing that pain, but when the others can see and understand it so blatantly, it only gets worse. Ryoma is ashamed to admit that it is him most times it happens. He hates being a burden on Kaede and Gonta, but he knows he cannot control the weight of his emotions, no matter how desperately he wants to. It is hard, knowing how much of a burden he is placing on his friends, and even more so on Kaede, who more often than not is the person who keeps up a smile. She never seems to falter quite like he does, and he wishes he could be more like her. Hell, he wishes he could care for her like she cares for him.

Would she let him if the situation arose, he wonders? She’s never cried or refused food or lost sleep the same way he and Gonta have. Or, if she has, she’s never said a word about it. He hopes that that’s not the case. She deserves to be comforted just as much as anyone, if not more. But does he have an inflated perception of how much she needs him? It is difficult to say, but on their next day alone, he finds himself learning the truth of what she hides behind that glass half-full.

It is just the two of them. Gonta has gone out on some expedition in search of bugs, so the newly dating couple decides that they will have a nice night in, just the two of them. Neither of them is prepared to go running out into the world for a fancy meal or some lavish date. It seems like a no-brainer that they decide to spend their time together making a meal instead. After all, it adds another layer to their bonding… as does the thirty minutes it takes them to pick out what they are going to eat. Ryoma and Kaede are more similar than anticipated in many ways, but when it comes to food, the differences definitely start to show. The two of them go back and forth on ideas – Ryoma suggests Western and Kaede wants Japanese. Ryoma thinks the meal should feature more carbs like rice and pasta, but Kaede wants it to have more meat and veggies. Ryoma wants something with a bit of spice, but Kaede doesn’t want any at all. Finally they are able to settle on a classic: curry rice with a side of eggplant dengaku. Kaede initially suggests that they try to make the curry rice with the eggplant, but Ryoma has never tried the flavour before, so they decide to stick with the regular meat to keep things comfortable. All things considered, it’s quite fun to get to work on a meal together as a couple. Most of the time, everyone in the apartment takes turns cooking for each other. Kaede and Ryoma have scarcely had the opportunity to interact in the kitchen.

“How’s that rice comin’, Ryoma?” Kaede asks, lifting her tasting spoon out of the pot of curry sauce. She slips it into her mouth so delicately that Ryoma can’t help but watch. How is everything she does so perfect? Her eyelashes flutter a little as she savours the taste, and when she pulls it out, she grins.

“It’s rice,” he replies, “Hard to mess up.”

She giggles – a cute, short little thing, yet one he loves nonetheless. Kaede has a great laugh. It’s musical, ironically enough. Still, he can’t help but notice that it doesn’t seem completely there today. It’s not necessarily gone, but it almost sounds a little more forced. Normally, it comes as easy to her as blinking or breathing. “I guess you’re right about that. The curry’s coming along as well.”

Is she hiding something? It seems like the wrong time to ask. Even if he does, she might just brush him off, not wanting to ruin their evening together. Everyone in the group has had their dark hours, but Kaede has always seemed content to push hers away. Maybe this is another one of those times. He’ll just take things slow for now, see what else he can get out of her. For all he knows, the laugh could have been a fluke. She’s been a mellow cheerful all day otherwise.

“Do you think it will be ready soon?”

She shrugs, not stopping to meet his eyes. “Maybe… I think I’d give it a few more minutes, just to be safe. Make sure we really lock in that flavour.”

He doesn’t say anything back, just nods. He shifts attention instead to the eggplant dengaku. While the dish is traditionally grilled, their access to something like that is lacking, so they’ve used a combination of a skillet and broiler to get the effect. It should be just as smoky as one cooked the traditional way, anyway. He slips on some oven mitts and pulls it out with relative ease, inhaling the earthy scent. “Eggplants are looking good, too. Can you pass the miso sauce?”

Ryoma reaches over to grab a pair of tongs, too engrossed in his soon-to-be examination at first that he doesn’t notice when he can’t hear the clink of the miso bowl beside him. When he first starts looking, he just assumes that Kaede will be ready in a minute. Then, a few more seconds pass, and it becomes increasingly clear that she won’t be passing it. In fact, he’s not hearing anything from her section of the kitchen. When he flicks his head up to look at her, she is staring down at the pot of curry, the smile that was once on her face having disappeared. Her eyes look almost blank as she stares down, watching it bubble.

“Kaede?” He calls out again.

Instantly, she snaps to attention. The smile reappears, but her eyes don’t seem to agree with it.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

He quirks a brow at her, not sure whether he should press or just asking for the miso. The former makes the most sense, he thinks. If he wants Kaede to open up to him more, then he needs to prove to her that he is open and ready to listen. “Are you okay?”

The smile doesn’t crack, and her expression does not falter. It seems almost painted on. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You… seem a bit distracted.”

“Oh, well,” Kaede shrugs and tucks her hair behind her ear, “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m just lost in my thoughts.”

Ryoma purses his lips. “It’s best not to be lost in thoughts all alone.”

She simply shakes her head and turns back to the curry pot. “Never you mind, Ryoma. I don’t want to ruin our night with my silly worries. They’ll come and go just like always.”

“You might feel better if you talked about them.”

“And you might feel better if you let this go,” she chuckles, surprisingly without even a hint of bitterness, “Seriously, Ryoma, I’m fine. Let’s just focus on making a nice dinner, okay?”

Ryoma sighs. “Whatever you say, Kaede. I just want you to know that if you need me, I’m here.”

“I know. I’ve always been able to depend on you, Ryoma. Ever since the moment we met.”

His brows furrow at those words. Nice of her to say, but not so easy for him to feel… If she’s that worried and there’s nothing he can do, is she actually being honest? Or is she just trying to placate him? He bites his lip absent-mindedly.

“... Right.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kaede frown, but she seems to decide that it is better to not try to convince him. Her attention sneaks back to their meal, and he decides that it would be better if he were just to grab the miso himself. Once in his hands, he coats the eggplants carefully, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kaede begins to scoop the rice from the pot into a duo of bowls. Nothing more is said between them as they prepare everything. It is best if things remain wordless for now. As soon as they have their food served, they make their way to the couch to sit and eat.

Even that ends up being quiet. It would be excessive to say that there is necessarily tension between the couple, yet there is a sort of pressure between them. After all, Kaede doesn’t want Ryoma to know, but all Ryoma wants to do is ask, so how are they supposed to overcome their competing desires? Is there any way to get through this situation that will leave them both satisfied? In the end, they just resort to not talking about it. Kaede steers conversation in other places instead. Should we make a bowl for Gonta, she asks. Yes, I’ll do that after I finish up here, Ryoma responds. Then there is some silence again, broken only by the sound of chewing. This eggplant is really tasty, Kaede tells him. It was Mio’s recipe, Ryoma admits. That draws the conversation on longer, but only by a few minutes. There is still nothing of true substance, just a lot of beating around the bush. This was not at all the date night that they had planned. Knowing that she was hiding from something from him, Ryoma couldn’t entirely blame her for not wanting to talk, but the constant beating around the bush served to make the conversation all too stale. Listening to tangents about the weather and the sound of chopsticks scraping against your bowl could get old fast.

In a time like this, you would think that the minutes would pass by like hours, yet it seemed that the meal went by in a flash. Before he knows it, Ryoma is done, and he is watching Kaede shovel in the last of her curry. The air between them is still relatively still and quiet, but he can see that by now, Kaede’s pleasant demeanour is beginning to falter. As she looks down at the last of her food, her mouth curves into more of a frown than it does a smile.

“All done?”

It’s a stupid question to ask, Ryoma knows, but it’s the only thing he can think of other than “are you sure you’re okay”. That, he knows, is not something he will get a proper answer to. It’s more than likely that he’ll get the same answer as before – yes, I’m fine. Or, if Kaede is getting particularly sick of the prying, he might be told to stop asking. He’s never seen her get angry about that, but he hasn’t ruled out the possibility. There are plenty of people who just hate to be asked, over and over again, if they’re fine. He would know. When it came to Mio, he used to be one of them.

Kaede nods softly, holding her hand out in expectation. He places his bowl in it carefully, muttering his thanks as she stacks it on her own and rises from her seat. His eyes flicker away as she begins to walk to the kitchen. It would be unnecessary to watch her every move, and if they’re not locked in conversation, he has no need to stare at her. Looking at her would only remind him that she’s in pain, and that he doesn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. He’s half-way through lamenting to himself about what a terrible boyfriend he is when suddenly, a quick gasp snaps him out of his thoughts. His head whips over to Kaede, and he is able to catch the exact moment that the bowls fully slip out of her grasp, falling hard and fast to the floor. Within seconds, the bowls crash against the ground, smashing into pieces of black bone china. Kaede yelps as they make contact, trying to shuffle her bare feet away from the site of the accident.

“Kaede!” Ryoma exclaims, rushing to her side to assess the damage. “Are you okay? You didn’t get cut, did you?”

Kaede doesn’t answer. She just stares down at the chunks of shattered bowls, eyes chasing each piece and splatter of leftover curry or miso. Ryoma places a hand on her lower back and peers up at her face, hoping it is just shock that has struck her silent. As soon as he sees her eyes, however, his heart sinks. In that place he has so often associated with joy, he finds only tears. They are just on the edge of her lashes, and are met with a quivering lip further below, but it will still be a few more seconds before they fall.

He darts down to look at the floor, taking care to examine the space around his girlfriend’s feet. None of the broken china seems to have scraped or cut her, with most of the pieces falling in front of her rather than around or behind her. Definitely not hurt. He is about to ask her again if she’s alright, when suddenly he hears her start to sob.

God, it’s only the first time he’s seen Kaede cry and he already hates it. Someone so kind and warm should never have to experience any pain, even over a broken plate.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks in the softest voice he can muster, brows furrowing as he rubs the part of her back he can reach. “It’s okay, it’s just a couple of bowls.”

Once again, Kaede does not answer. She just keeps crying, fat tears slipping down her cheeks one after the other. It’s like she doesn’t even know Ryoma is there. That makes her crying sting worse. So much for her knowing she could always count on him. He’s practically useless to her right now. He heaves a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

It won’t do him any good to be self-deprecating. He may not be the boyfriend she deserves, but he needs to try to be. He owes her that much.

“It’s not about the bowls, is it?”

Kaede shakes her own head frantically, still whimpering like a little girl. Her hands reach up to swipe at her eyes, creating black streaks with her mascara. He makes a mental note to grab her some make-up wipes in a minute. For now, he just needs to get her comfortable, away from the scene of the crime, so the two of them can have a real talk about what’s happening here.

“Why don’t you go sit down, Kaede? I’ll clean this up, and then we can talk about what’s going on. That sound good?”

For a sliver of a moment, she hesitates, like she’s frozen in place by her tears. It is not until he repeats her name, softer and gentler, that she finds it within herself to nod and sniffle, stepping back from the bowls to let him get a better look at the ground. He wastes no time rushing to the kitchen to grab a garbage bag to put them in, only watching out of the corner of his eye for Kaede’s safe arrival to the couch. Judging by the lack of yelps of pain, he can only assume he made it unharmed.

Just like their meal, the moment between the two of them is most silent, except now what was once conversation has now become the sound of Kaede’s soft crying. Part of Ryoma almost feels guilty for wanting to ignore it, but he already feels as if he is doing that very thing – he just wishes the tears would stop. He’s not so selfish as to wish that Kaede be his happy girlfriend who always supports him and Gonta, but more that she should not have to feel that sort of pain. In the back of his mind he has always known that she is as tortured as they are by what happened. It’s just that he didn’t want her to be. He wishes it didn’t have to be so. And that’s just the problem – if she is as tortured as they are, then this is perhaps the first time she has had the courage to show it.

How close does she need to be to her breaking point for this to be the case?

Ryoma cleans up the remainders of the bowl as best he can, resolving to vacuum up any of the more minute pieces he would have missed. His focus right now, his greatest focus, is joining Kaede on the couch so they can talk about what’s happened. As he went through the process of cleaning, her sobs tempered themselves slightly, but it would be an exaggeration to say that they had been crushed entirely. Her eyes were definitely still wet and her heart still pained. When he is reunited with her, the weight of her emotions has not left her. It is still laying there inside of her, festering, but trying desperately to grasp at the solace that Ryoma is offering. Perhaps part of the pain comes from being unused to comfort when these sensations arise.

It hurts that once he finally rejoins Kaede, the first thing she tries to do is flash him a smile. It is by far the weakest from her that he has ever seen, and the fact that she even feels she needs to do this breaks his heart. What has the world done to this poor, kind woman? They have already won their battle against Tsumugi and Team Danganronpa, but a bitter part of him longs to fight them again, if only to take revenge for her. Alas, he cannot. All he can do is take her hand in his own and stroke her thumb with his, prepared to listen.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she whimpers, reaching up to swipe at her eyes, “I know it’s not like me to be so…”

“Don’t apologize.” He cuts in far before he can actually think to do so. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Kaede says nothing in response, only stares gratefully at him. Why does he get the sense that it was not uncommon, in her other life, to say sorry when she was hurt? Did nobody comfort her? No, no. He shakes the thought from his mind. They must have. Kaede spoke so fondly of her family, in particular her twin sister… This must have come from somewhere else. All he can do is pray that it is not his own failure to support her that has made her feel such things.

Ryoma draws in a deep breath, trying to refocus. Don’t get away from yourself, this is about her. You say you want to take care of this woman, so put your money where your mouth is.

“I want to know what’s wrong, Kaede. You haven’t been yourself today, and I know you didn’t like those bowls enough to be upset that they’re broken.”

Kaede chuckles softly. “They were pretty ugly.”

“Like something your grandmother would own.”

She laughs again, and it’s like music to Ryoma’s ears. Nothing in this moment is perfect, but that little giggle is as close as it’s going to get. He hates that he’ll have to direct her away from this small joy to get back to the source of their problem. It might be that realization that makes him squeeze her hand.

“Now, please tell me what’s going on with you.”

That small smile, the one that felt like such a prize, quickly melts. Her expression is almost pinched, but he can tell it’s not from discontent with him. If she has such little experience expressing her emotions, then this won’t come easy. Learning to be the one person who keeps up a happy face surely took a toll on her, even if she won’t admit it. The heavy sigh expelled from her lungs only serves to confirm his theory.

“Can I… can I start by asking you something?”

Ryoma shrugs. “If it’ll help you.”

“Do you ever… do you ever feel like, I don’t know… responsible for some of the stuff that happened? Like when we were in the Killing Game?” Kaede’s eyes dart down to her lap. “I know we’ve always said that it was Tsumugi who did those things, and Team Danganronpa, but… if what they said is true, then we agreed to it, y’know? We agreed to our friends getting hurt.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Ryoma corrects, much more sharply than he intends to, “We didn’t have any control over the agency of the others. We chose for ourselves. We were blinded by that choice, by our passion for something like that. It didn’t seem so wrong then.”

Kaede swallows so thickly in the moment, he almost has to wonder if he’s said exactly the wrong thing. The way her brow quirks doesn’t exactly do his confidence any favours either. Nonetheless, he stills himself. He remembers what this is all for, who this is all for. “You think we didn’t think it was wrong?”

“If something like that was on television, then it would be pretty normalized. Hell, Tsumugi suggested that the whole damn thing was popular. People might not bat an eye, because the participants consented and knew what they were getting into. Nobody would ever really consider what was going on on the other side. I mean, it’s just like when you used to see the Olympics on TV. Everyone thinks they could do it, but nobody considers what you put yourself through.”

“I… guess…”

“I know that probably doesn’t settle your worries. And, honestly… I get it. I can say everything I just said, but I get it. Sometimes you just feel so guilty for surviving, and for doing what you did to survive. You wonder why you deserve it over everyone else.”

Kaede nods, teary-eyed. He tries not to pay too much attention to the quivering of her lip and the crinkling of her chin, lest his fussing upset her more. Right now, it seems best to just let her feel as she needs to. Perhaps the best thing he can do for her right now is let her know that her feelings are understood and heard. “Everyone wasn’t perfect, but they were… they were kind at heart, I think. And at the beginning there, I could feel how badly everyone wanted to survive. I could feel…” She sighs, her voice breaking the longer she goes on. “I could feel them. Even when we started losing people, I could still feel them with us. Their spirits never left me. I couldn’t stop thinking about their loved ones… Their families… It didn’t matter if maybe Rantaro didn’t have all those sisters, or if Angie’s island wasn’t really real… There must be people out there who loved them. There always are.”

Ryoma doesn’t answer, just keeps stroking her thumb, knowing that he has her on the right track. He needs to let her speak, to let her share this fear with the world.

“And sometimes, I just wonder… what did I do to deserve to be here? Do they… do they hate that it was them who died instead of me?”

Her voice lowers to a whisper.

“Sometimes I do. I don’t feel like I have a right to be here. Not when I could have gotten everyone killed.”

Ryoma squeezes her hand tightly. “Nobody’s life is more valuable than yours, Kaede. Nobody’s life is more valuable than anybody else’s, you know that. I wasn’t exactly friends with a lot of ‘em, but I know that if they were here, that’s what they would tell you. They know you did the best you could. You never wanted anyone to die.”

Kaede sniffles. “I just… I wish nobody had to get hurt. I wish they didn’t have to go through it. I wish we’d all been smarter.”

“We were kids, Kaede. Kids are stupid. Teenagers think they’re invincible until suddenly something happens, and they realize that they’re not. I understand how you feel, I really do, but if there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that we can’t let ourselves be bound to our mistakes forever. If we do something bad, and we lose someone, then we owe it to that person to try and be better in the future. And all I’ve seen you do is try and be better for the people you left behind.”

“I wish I could have saved them,” she sobs, “I wish I could have done things differently.”

“But you couldn’t.”

She stares at him wide-eyed, blinking at him in disbelief.

“I couldn’t either. Neither could Gonta. Even Shuichi, in his last moments when he tried to save us from his… his own mistakes, couldn’t save us completely. He could only save the ones who were left. And I know he would regret that it could only be the three of us, but the fact of the matter is, that was the best he could do. He trusted us to keep doing better on behalf of everyone. If he didn’t, he’d have left us to die.”

There is a pregnant pause that stands between them, but for the first time in this whole conversation, Ryoma doesn’t doubt what he’s saying. All of the heart skips of panic and twistings of his belly have melted away now. All he cares about is making sure she knows. She needs to know that she did all that she could, that she did more than enough.

“All of their hopes are pinned on us, Kaede. That’s why we survived.”

Kaede doesn’t answer, just turns her head down. For a moment, he thinks he’s got her figured out and maybe she’s soothed, but another hiccup reminds him that it isn’t so. At any moment she could burst from his grasp and run off to her room, determined to never speak to him again. He won’t let that happen. There is still more to say, more to do to soothe her. He has to soothe her.

“How can you… say all this, but say you understand…?”

“Because I learned from someone that sometimes, even if everything is dark, you need to look for the light. I’ve heard a lot of lies in my life, mostly coming from myself, so I learned to find the truths, even if they’re hard. I can’t let the lies rule over me, and I can’t let those demons win.”

Ryoma slides his hand along the underside of Kaede’s jaw, turning her face towards him gently. It still breaks his heart to see her beautiful eyes gleaming with such sadness. Any tear that falls now will be wiped away by his thumb on her cheek.

“You taught me that, Kaede.”

She presses her face further into his hand, holding onto his wrist. It doesn’t seem like she has much more to say, so he just lets her rest her cheek against him, stroking it comfortingly. Before long her eyes flutter closed, and he finds himself sitting in wait, listening to the sound of her shaky breaths. What a perfect creature. In spite of all their circumstances, he is glad that he and Kaede were brought together. He just hopes that with moments like these, he can ensure that it is worth her while as well.

He's not sure how long they sit there, drinking in the comfort of each other’s presence and the ideologies they share, but the quietude is peaceful. Over time, Kaede’s tears begin to dry and her breaths stabilize. Everything most definitely is not okay now, but it’s better, and Ryoma thinks that it is a victory in and of itself. He knows he could never heal her guilt entirely. The best thing he can do is support her as she fights through it, just as she has done for him. He thought he would never love again after losing Mio, but today has more than proven to him that he would do anything for Kaede. So he’ll embrace this quiet, and let her tell him what she needs.

In the end, the answer ends up being that she needs a surprise appearance from Gonta.

The apartment had been so quiet that the moment he swings the door open, the two of them jump a little – which, hilariously, also makes Gonta jump. For a moment a flicker of alarm catches in Gonta’s expression, wondering if he caught them in the midst of an intimate moment he wasn’t supposed to see, but it fades when he realizes that the two are just sitting on the couch.

“Gonta!” Kaede exclaims, pushing a smile. It is not symmetrical or perfect, but it’s stronger than any of the other ones that she’s given Ryoma today. That’s another victory, he thinks to himself. “You’re back early.”

The bug enthusiast nods carefully, placing his bug catching box down on the counter. Ryoma tries not to cringe – he respects Gonta’s affection, but he really doesn’t want bugs where the food goes. “Gonta is sorry to interrupt; Gonta had good luck today, found dung beetle friend much faster than expected.”

Ugh. Ryoma tries even harder not to cringe. Not just a bug where the food goes, but a bug fascinated by fecal matter. Blegh. “It’s okay,” Ryoma says, trying not to sound strained so Gonta won’t be hurt by his disgust, “We were just…”

He glances to Kaede. It would be easiest to be honest with Gonta about how she’s feeling, but they are her feelings. It is ultimately her call to make. She can say whatever she wants to say, and he’ll support her.

“Ryoma was comforting me.” She places a hand on Ryoma’s thigh. “I’ve been having… a hard time.”

“Something is hurting Kaede?” Gonta asks thoughtfully, his brows furrowing.

She nods gently. “Yes. I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my memories. I feel guilty over things that happened, when we were in the Killing School Life… I didn’t know how to talk about it. You and Ryoma have both been so open and honest with me about the way it makes you feel, and I… hadn’t been doing it back, and we realized that that was hurting me.”

“Yes, bottling up hurts Kaede. It hurts Gonta, too. Good that Ryoma and Kaede talked.” He pushes a smile. “Can Gonta help?”

He gestures at his bug cage on the counter.

“Maybe Kaede like to meet dung beetle, learn few fun facts?”

With one last exchange of gestures, a smile crosses Kaede’s face as well. Then, they both turn back to Kaede.

“Sure, bring ‘em on over,” Ryoma sighs, finding it within even himself to put on a grin, “And tell us everything you know about him.”

Leave it to Gonta to make sure things stayed perfectly imperfect. A failed date, a poop-loving bug in their home, and a lot of tears… but progress is progress, and Ryoma cannot be prouder that they were able to make it. As Gonta opens up the cage and starts talking about his dung beetle, gently guiding him around the cage with his finger, Ryoma feels Kaede’s head lean on his own. At any other time, it might not mean much of anything other than a sign of affection, but today… Today he thinks it means that he did good.

#look everyone I finished another one!#Koto's 100 Followers Gifts #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #hoshimatsu #kaede akamatsu #ryoma hoshi #gonta gokuhara #danganronpa fanfiction

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fang-and-feather · 1 year

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Ikemen Vampire - Mozart/OC

for Fluffbruary Day 9 - Prompt(s): harmony by @fluffbruary

Fic's note: This fic was supposed to be a second version of A Song in the Storm, based on the same premise, but on different songs and prompts and, as such, have similar beginnings but different endings. I ended up editing the beginning to make it a second chapter, instead.

AO3 Version / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / Previous Chapter

Amy had always been a curious girl, eager to learn new skills. For fun, yes, but sometimes she felt a desperation when it came to learning survival skills as if her life depended on these and she had no idea why. But her favorite learning experiences were these that brought her closer to someone. Not that she had to go to such lengths to bond, but Amy felt like these helped her understand her loved ones better.

Of course that should include her boyfriend, especially when music was one of her greatest affinities, -there seemed to be a reason for that, too, but she couldn’t remember either, - but, in this case, it wasn’t just sharing a hobby. Before a master of the art like Mozart, Amy felt like she had no place even asking for advice, let alone for lessons. Not that he hadn’t tried a couple of times on rainy days, but, while she was usually a fast learner, having her boyfriend watching her either made her nervous or distracted. Probably both.

Although Amy could have asked her older sister for piano lessons, when they were young she never felt the need to, as they bonded in other ways and it was nice to play different instruments together, and now, first they didn’t have another piano, second it would be very hard to do so in secret, and she didn’t want everyone to know, especially the other guys, to which she had a perfectly crafted version of herself she didn’t want to ruin.

But, one rainy day, she took to observing Mozart playing one of her favorite songs. And not even a period apropriate one, but a song from a game she loved from her time, that she often hummed, or played on her violin when she was anxious, and which he had adapted only for her. The second song he’d done so.

While the first one had been one she associated especially with the rain, this one was her favorite of the two, maybe because of the calming, lullaby-like effect that could usually drive her into a trance-like state. Not with Mozart playing, though, but it still made her feel calmer and lighter. She stood slightly behind him, in a position she could easily watch.

Amy loved him in all forms, but there was something special at the elegant and focused Mozart while he played the piano. That made her heart beat faster and her body come alive with desire for his attention to be on her instead. Amy still felt a little ashamed of the thoughts running through her head, so she focused on the song, more specifically, on how he played it, on each specific note, to keep her thoughts from derailing.

Since the day Mozart had to calm his girlfriend through a storm, he’d noticed a slight change in her behavior, in her attention to his art, not as a form of entertainment and not just a supportive interest either. So he had tried teaching her, but Amy kept getting distracted and making mistakes and had never tried again after the first couple of times. Which came as a surprise, since she was usually very focused and persistent.

In the meantime, he had composed a personal arrangement of another song she kept humming. Another gift for her.

The first time he had played it, like with the previous song, she had easily fallen asleep. This second time, though, the song had fully caught her attention. Mozart didn’t need to turn around to know she stared intently, although if at him or at his performance, he couldn’t say.

When she sat by his side, he fully expected her to relax for a couple of minutes and fall asleep again, until he reached a transition in the song, but the notes that came next weren’t played by him. Amy played the next part, concentrating on the movement of her fingers, then looked at him expectantly.

For praise? He knew by looking her in the eye that was not it, although she was doing way better than the last couple of times, without having actually played again in between. That was just her, actually showing her learning skills, actually paying attention for once.

The thought of him being the reason she was so distracted before was not unpleasant.

Mozart knows what his girlfriend wanted and continues the song. They alternate playing some parts, complete each other’s notes in some others. The chaos expected of an impromptu duet with someone playing only for the third time was barely there at the beginning, and disappeared into the song before he could complain, being replaced by a strange harmony, as if the two of them had rehashed it for days, or like they were connected, one no more than an extension of the other.

Amy still left the parts with more complex notes for him, but the more they played, the more confident she got, the intense focus being replaced by a peaceful and happy smile and loving glances cast at him more often. He still kept his focus on the piano, but couldn’t help giving her occasional side glances, only to see her smiling back at him as she hummed along.

At the end of another part she was playing, Amy just leaned over and, as he gave her a full glance to see why she was doing that, kissed him. Just a quick peck, that had him losing concentration, but she slipped right back to playing, like nothing had happened.

But it did happen, and gone was his own desire for the peaceful harmony of before. Mozart didn’t return to playing, opting to watch Amy try it herself, but he was more attentive to her than to the song. She closed her eyes, movements becoming slower, so he reached over and ran a hand through her hair.

“You seem sleepy.”

“That’s what lullabies are for.” Amy chuckled, wearily.

“You have improved a lot on your own.”

She hummed at the compliment and leaned into his touch.

“You just mae me so distracted...” She stopped playing to look back at him. “But we make for a good pair. Although I probably owe the harmony of this to your skills. Keeping up with my improvised playing wouldn’t be easy.”

“No. This harmony is because it is you. I wouldn’t be able to play like this with anyone else.”

Maybe he could, but he would never have the intention of trying. If anyone had simply tried to join him like that, especially on his piano, he would have kicked them out. He wasn’t exactly a good team player, as Amy had put it in the past, but he was learning to put a lot of things aside, to make some exceptions, especially for his lover.

“As much as I doubt it is true, I also can’t imagine you playing along with someone else. And I don’t like the idea of you playing so intimately with someone else.” Amy admitted, the sleepiness in her gaze being replaced by a warm intensity.

“Then our thoughts are in harmony too, because I don’t want you playing like this with anyone, either.”

Sometimes he didn’t want to share her at all, wishing he could keep her by his side all day.

“Then why don’t you teach me one more, to wake me up? I love when we do things together.”

Mozart was thinking of them doing something else together. In fact, he didn’t want to share her with anyone at the moment. Unfortunately, dinner would be soon, and unlike him, Amy needed the food. He would only join everyone for dinner, though, not to leave her alone with them. His own dinner would come later, because the only thing he needed was her.

But until then, another song sounded perfect.

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#fluffbruary 2023 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #fang's writing #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #oc: amy #calm in the storm

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hydriotaphia · 4 months

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Hey, thanks for replying - yeah I've been in fandom for most of my life, but have never been that into fanfic. Bridgerton I think is the first for which I started reading. Despite my minimal experience, I'm aware of the general rules and don't believe I've ever violated them. Based on what you've said about constructive criticism though, I have perhaps been going about it differently. When an author says smthn like 'let me know what you think,' I'll give it freely. I don't do this for fics I don't like, but for the fics I do like, it feels like excluding the criticism is weirdly disrespectful. I want to show that I wasn't just reading with half a brain, and that I spent time thinking about how I felt about certain parts. I try and make sure I use 'i think/I agree' a lot, and I believe I used these phrases excessively in my first ask to communicate that everything is my humble opinion. When discussing the antwina fic I mightve neglected to do that, and as a result mightve ended up sounding harsher.

Anyway, I get your point about fanfic being fun and the distinction you draw bw it and published fiction. I wasn't thinking about it that way. Sometimes fanfic is written so well that it's hard to forget you're not reading a published piece, and that as thought provoking as it is, you're not meant to share those thoughts if the author hasn't requested it. Smthn to keep in mind ig.

No, I agree with you about the headcanon thing. There was this modern au I read some time ago that had kanthony dealing with grief. By the end of the story, we saw them both in better places in their lives after having been broken up for a while, and it was clear that both would still lead happy, healthy lives even if they didn't have each other. Ofc they got back together though, and one of the reasons why it worked the second time around was bc they knew they were stable enough individually that they wouldn't be destroyed if things bw them ended again. I found it totally believable and loved that that idea. For your fic, I don't remember all that I said, but I think one of the reasons I felt differently about anthony's ability to recover is bc it's a regency au, so no therapy and no one to really help show him the path to recovery. Ik you said heartbreak is nothing like death of parent and its aftermath, so it wouldn't really be something he'd need help for (time would be enough), and while I agree those two things aren't equivalent, for someone like Anthony whose repeatedly experienced loss (of 'two' parents, of youth, etc.) and who would lose the one other person who could understand/take care of him, everything would sort of pile up into a lifelong sadness. I think the park scene you're referring to is in the featherington gardens in ep 8 (?) I agree that at that point he wasn't hoping for anything and was resigned to a fate of losing her. But I think we disagree on what exactly his survival after that entails. It seems like you think he'll recover completely (?), whereas I think he'll survive, channel the hurt into care for his family, but nonetheless always keep that hurt buried within him. If he had married edwina, then I think she would've been too much of a trigger for him to keep it buried, and he’d lash out at her/become more erratic. I think I brought up a scenario where someone else who's gone through similar experiences can forge a similar bond to him that kate did, in which case I could see him getting over it. Either way, for me, time alone isn't enough for him to forget her.

About lesbian edwina - no you're definitely right; when I mentioned lesbwina that was me mostly joking. There's nothing in the show to suggest that. Even when I said the reason she didn't recognize the tension bw kanthony was bc she doesn't understand straight ppl, i wasnt being serious at all. Me wanting a lesbwina is entirely wistful thinking.

I don't want to clog up your blog, so it's cool if you end our back and forth upon reading this. It's been nice to engage 👍.

Hi Anon, it’s been a few days so you may not see this but work has been insane and I took a little time to step away. Thanks for taking all that on board.

I do want to engage and I am always happy to talk head-canons and meta, so feel free to message about those.

In thinking about it, though, I wasn't sure if your ask was seeking genuine connection because, while many people thoughtfully engaged with the Anthony/Edwina get married AU or ignored it because it wasn’t for them, it is by far the one thing that people seem determined to argue about as if I had concluded wrong. Almost a version of ‘This hurt me and therefore it is not true/you are wrong’ versus ‘This hurt me AAAAAAAAh’. And the former is exhausting as you can imagine and how I originally understood your ask.

It seems like you think he'll recover completely (?), whereas I think he'll survive, channel the hurt into care for his family, but nonetheless always keep that hurt buried within him. …Either way, for me, time alone isn't enough for him to forget her.

Your definition of recovery seems very similar to mine actually! You’ve described him doing productive things to cope while acknowledging he’s been hurt in the past, which is pretty much what I think too. To me therapy isn't the only way to get through it though so that's not a deal-breaker for me. I also can’t see Anthony as Miss Havisham where the past is always intruding on the present.

Ha, I didn’t realise this was gentle teasing as it was mixed in with other things in the context of characterisations based directly on canon! Of course, pairings are whatever one’s little heart desires (meta is a bit different). But yeah, I do that too – almost none of my slash ships have ever been canonical (again I exclude Stucky from being made up because fuck you Marvel you wrote that and then denied them like COWARDS). Lesbwina is a pretty fun characterisation for sure! I’m pretty sure I have a WIP kicking around somewhere feat. Lesbwina 😊

#asks #bridgerton season 2 #anthony x edwina get married AU

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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dragoneyes618 · 3 years

Text

Ivypool stared at her daughter's body. Bristlefrost lay at the edge of the Moonpool, so still, with only the faintest stirring of her gray fur to show that she was breathing.

It shouldn't have been like this. It should have been Ivypool instead.

She shuddered.

"They'll be fine," Tree told her. Tree's son, Rootspring, had also braved the Place of No Stars.

"You don't know that." Ivypool hissed. "You can't know that. You don't remember the Great Battle...."

"The one where you could see the spirits walking the earth?" Tree asked. "So tell me."

Ivypool opened her mouth, but she couldn't speak.

It was always like this, whenever someone asked her about the Dark Forest or the Great Battle. She never spoke to anyone who hadn't lived through it about it. They couldn't understand.

The elders told stories of it-scary stories, the kind no cat was allowed to hear until he or she was at least seven moons old, but the elders told stories nonetheless. Lionblaze had spoken to both of his litters about his experiences. Jayfeather didn't speak to anybody. The warriors would tell their children, or make too-casual references. But Ivypool did none of those.

You spied for us in the Dark Forest! the apprentices always said excitedly whenever they found this out. What was it like? You must have been so brave!

Didn't they understand-no, they couldn't understand, no one could understand-that she hadn't been brave, she'd been terrified, but she'd had no other choice? She'd been sucked into the Dark Forest by her own petty jealousy, like so many others, and once she found out the truth-how could she go on training like nothing was wrong, now that she knew what she was being trained for? And she couldn't simply stop dreaming herself into the Dark Forest. Once the Dark Forest cats had set their sights on you, you could never extricate yourself from their clutches. You couldn't just leave. Beetlewhisker had been proof of that.

Once again, in her mind's eye, she saw Beetlewhisker's body on the muddy ground of the Dark Forest, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, the fur around his muzzle stained with blood, his wide, terrified eyes staring desperately at her.

"It's not-" she tried to tell Tree, but she couldn't.

She'd attacked Flametail. Well, his spirit, but wasn't it the same thing? And then Tigerstar-Tigerheart, then-had jumped in front of her, blocking her, refusing to let what was left of his brother be destroyed, and ironically, this was what had cemented her loyalty to the Dark Forest, as far as its residents were concerned. Even Hawkfrost had said so.

Hawkfrost.

He'd been so kind at first, so understanding. He said he knew what it was like to have a sibling who was always better than you. He said he could teach her new hunting and fighting skills, so at least she could be better than Dovepaw in something...

She remembered his ice-blue eyes as he'd tried to kill her, any trace of warmth that had ever been there gone-it hadn't been there in the first place, had it? She remembered the pain of a hundred small wounds-

She remembered Hollyleaf's broken body lying on the ground, her blood almost invisible against her ebony fur, her breathing raspy as she strained to speak to her kin in her last moments.

Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost, fighting in a blur of fur and claws, almost indistinguishable from one another, a crack and a gasp and an exhausted brown figure staggering away from another one collapsed on the ground-

And a single, terrifying moment as, in the dim light, she could not tell which one had won.

Antpelt's body, lying on the ground as his blood soaked the earth of the Dark Forest, his eyes angry, sad, scared, his fur in her claws, his blood in her mouth. She had killed him. He was already dead, yes, but had he gone to the Dark Forest after he died because he deserved to go there or only because he had died there?

And she had killed him.

It kept her up at nights.

For a long time after the Great Battle she had been afraid to sleep at all. Sometimes Jayfeather had given her poppy seeds-if she was in a deep enough sleep, she couldn't dream herself into the Dark Forest, right? Other times she had simply slept in the medicine den, trusting that Jayfeather would sense if the Dark Forest visited her.

She hadn't known yet then that he'd lost his powers.

But the Dark Forest had never come back.

Until now.

The Dark Forest was treacherous, unholy, generations of cats' nightmares made flesh, home to the worst cats ever to walk the earth.

And she had let her daughter go in there.

Tree was still waiting for an answer, she realized.

"It was terrifying," she managed, but that alone brought up a whole slew of memories: Sorreltail's kits covered in their mother's blood, Firestar collapsing as Tigerstar faded, a flaming tree toppling down from the heavens like a brand from StarClan. "ThunderClan alone-we lost six cats, including our leader. The other Clans-combined, we lost more than twenty cats. Each Clan has a memorial to them. I can tell you their names." She knew the name of every single cat who had died in the Great Battle.

She had trained with many of them, in the Dark Forest. The Dark Forest trainees had been disproportionately targeted by the Dark Forest-the ones who had fought on the side of the Clans, anyway. The Dark Forest did not take betrayal lightly. However, all the Dark Forest trainees of ThunderClan had survived that terrible night, perhaps because their Clan was lucky enough to have the Three.

Dark Forest cats had died in the battle, too. Not nearly as many dead as the Clans had lost, of course. And of course, a few Clan cats, like Redwillow, had joined the Dark Forest upon their deaths. But Hawkfrost, Brokenstar, and Tigerstar were all definitely dead. Lionblaze had said he'd kill Shredtail.

She didn't know what other Dark Forest cats, if any, had died. The Clans had been too busy mourning their many dead to compare notes for a while, and when they finally had, it had been with problems of the living.

But she wished she knew for sure which cats her daughter might be facing. Mapleshade, Sparrowfeather, Snowtuft, Thistleclaw...

Of course, if any of them realized that Bristlefrost was her daughter, she was probably as good as dead.

I should have gone with her.

Then they would know who Bristlefrost was immediately. They would probably kill Bristlefrost just to torment her.

I should have gone instead of her.

What sort of mother let her kit put herself into danger that she herself had experienced?

What kind of mother was she?

Bristlefrost was young and naive and idealistic. She had no idea, no idea...

She should have given her more advice, told her more about the Dark Forest. She should have told her all about it, how to find her way around, notable landmarks-like the woodpile, or the river-or which cats to avoid-everyone.

I should have gone instead of her...

She wished Fernsong was here.

She wished Dovewing was here.

She wished Whitewing was here.

She wished she was a kit again, three moons old and completely, blessedly oblivious to the world outside the ThunderClan camp or why Dovekit was always able to find her when they played hide-and-seek.

She took a step toward the Moonpool, but she felt cold and her legs began to shake so hard she had to sit down.

"Are you all right?" Tree asked, looking concerned, but she didn't answer.

The Dark Forest was closer to the Clans now than it had been in moons, and she was terrified.

The Three had no powers to help them now. And StarClan was gone.

She should have gone instead of Bristlefrost. What kind of mother let her own daughter put herself in danger in her stead?

But every time she thought of the Place of No Stars she remembered tall, bare trees, and a rotting woodpile, and a viscous, filthy river, and eyes and claws lurking in the ever-present shadows under the starless sky, ready to pounce on you at the first sign of weakness-

And she couldn't.

And so she let her own daughter enter the Dark Forest, knowing full well what Bristlefrost was going to face, and did nothing.

Like a coward.

#ivypool #bristlefrost #tree #tree warriors #the place of no stars #dark forest #the dark forest #the great battle #the aftereffects of spying on the Dark Forest and then turning on them and witnessing a lot of deaths #warrior cats

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

Note

Stella and Stolas with the male Imp Overlord

Stella and Stolas with male Imp Overlord

When you, an Imp achieved your overlord status, lets just say that was something of an issue in the world of nobility.

Imps have always been the Hells servant class, every great dynasty and empire have been built off their backs. They were always meant to be ruled over, Not rule themselves.

But with your ascension to Overlord-ship, the pair found they had a very difficult desicion to make.

They could publicly oppose you. They were sure many of there fellow nobles would follow their lead, doing the same and under their banner, they could form a formidable opposition.

The only problem with that, is while they and there allies may oppose you, their enemies would be more then happy to support you. Whether that be directly or in the shadows.

And give the fact you, an Imp, had already achieved Overlord status, the last thing they needed was you against them, with the backing of disgruntled nobility.

So they did only other viable option. They got closer to you.

They formed an alliance with you in hopes of discovering what made you so unique. As well as ensuring you weren't an enemy.

You would initially be very suspicious of the pair.

Royalty had kept Imps down there entire existance, exploiting and enslaving them sing lucifers rebellion.

So you'd naturally have little, to no trust in the pairs intentions.

But as much as you distrusted the two, doing business with them was jus too beneficial to pass up, something the two went to lengths to ensure.

As the couple expected, in only a short period of time, you became even more powerful, amassing further wealth and territory.

And with this development, the two were quite happy there gamble had paid off. With their family becoming your largest business partner and as such benefited greatly from your prosperity.

As your business with the two increased, you'd slowly find yourself trusting the pair more, the two eagerly wanting to build on that.

And well, stolas being stolas, we all know he just couldn't help himself.

Being around such a domineering male Imp, one that spoke his mind and took shit from nobody. The way you didn't care in the slightest about his title and would tell him as much to his face.

Well, I think it's safe to say, he'd become Very interested in you, very quickly.

You wouldn't really mind Stolas.

You could tell he really didn't care much for politics, or the divide between hellbornes and royalty. He was just in it for a good time as well as securing his families continued survival. You could respect that.

Really the problem would be Stella.

It's fairly obvious she isn't too fond of Imps, likely having been raised to despise anyone she doesn't deem worthy.

And while your power and status would put you far above most every other Imp in her eyes, it would take a fair amount of time before she'd develop any kind of real respect for you.

But, given the chance to see just how capable and scrupulous you could be. A part of her would come to respect your cold-blooded you could be.

The truth was, Stolas had lost his blood lust when they were married. But you, you were a beast. Untamed and seemingly unstoppable.

While she initially wasn't fond of the idea of forming an alliance with you, doing it more so out of practicality over any genuine want to associate with you. She couldn't have realised just how good an idea it would turn out to be.

You were exactly what they needed, someone who could do the more 'dirty jobs' royalty often required, not only doing the job in a timely manner, but you always did it exactly to there expectations, never letting them down in the slightest.

The two held a party not long after your alliance began to prosper.

It was a fairly standard gathering of the Goeatia families allies and vassels families, the party working to both appease there egos and allow them to raise any concerns they may have to the couple.

Of course they had invited you, as despite the more recent nature of your power, you had quickly become an important business partner and asset to the Goetia family and they wanted to continue fostering that.

You had arrived fashionably late, clearly unhappy to be around so many nobles, a faint scowl across your features.

Despite your clear disgust, you still paid your respects to the two, thinking them for the invitation.

Leaving the pair you did what one does at such a gathering, you drank, partook in small talk and generally hung about.

But even with your invitation, it wasn't long until some asshat, decided to test you.

He attempted to publicly humiliate you. Pretending you were a servant and telling you, you were at the wrong area, or should be in the back serving drinks.

The asshole ran his mouth. You could handle that, you'd delt with plenty of loud idiots in your time, it was nothing new. But when he put his hands on you, attempting to push you about.

Well. You couldn't allow that.

It was in this moment that both Stella and Stolas saw why they had made the right choice in befriending you.

With a single brutally efficient strike, you dropped the noble like a sack of rocks.

Watching his body fall before calmly walking away, going about the party as though you hadn't just incapacitated one of the most powerful demons in hell.

Needless to say, no one at the party messed with you after that.

When it came to their relationship, she had little affection for Stolas.

She was still very committed to her marriage and family, of course but the once strapping, ambitious and blood thirsty Prince she had once thought she could love, had given way to an unambitious, soft hearted, stay at home dad.

And she just wasn't attracted to that.

But you... you were everything she saught in a mate.

Ambitious. Relentless. Dangerous and insatiable. You had no limits and seemed near unstoppable.

So, against her better judgement, she found herself falling for you. Something that was quite frustrating for the noble woman.

Stolas, would have absolutely no qualms about falling for you. He of course still cared for his family, but you were something else, something he desperately wanted.

The only problem unfortunately, was his family.

But with his wife being so close to you as well, both demons would be at something of an impass.

They couldn't pursue you in fear of there better halves finding out.

You, of course, where not blind to all this.

You could tell the two were slowly gravitating towards you, Stolas being particularly unsubtle about his pull.

And you found it was surprisingly easy to play the two off each other, Stolas was practically drooling over you and while she may try to hide it, you could tell Stella was very much attracted to you.

Stolas would be the easier of the pair to control.

A kind word here, a suductive touch there, a frustrated complaint about something over there and you could get him to do just about anything you wanted.

Stella would be more difficult, as It would take a considerable amount of time to have her overcome her ingrained discrimination towards Imps.

You likely needing to do so gradually, showing her how you were just as good as any snob with a royal title.

You'd need to be careful at first, ensuring that she truly did fancy you. But once you knew for sure, it wouldn't be difficult to seduce her.

All you'd need to do was appeal to her ego and show her your more dominant side.

Unlike stolas, it wouldn't be a physical dominance, it would a dominance of the mind. The owl princess finding your ability to dominate a room without lifting a finger, quite... intoxicating.

So, finding yourself in a love triangle of your own creation, you had a very specific plan.

When the pair of them first approached you, you knew, deep down, it was done out of fear.

Imps were nothing in Hell, and for you, an Imp to become an Overlord, that scared the BlueBloods.

And it should.

But if you were going to enter a relationship with these royals, they were going to be the ones who proposition you.

You'd be damned if you were gonna be the one begging for a relationship. They wanted it, and you knew they wanted it, they'd have to beg for it.

And beg they would.

The two came to an agreement. They both wanted you, but also didn't want to split up their family, so they would approach you together.

It was an awkward affair, in part due to you playing dumb to there intentions.

Stolas, being something of a bird brain, would draw it out, trying put their decision into words, but failing miserably.

Stella would just step in, opening the proposition of a relationship.

You would playfully think it over, already knowing the answer but you enjoyed watching the pair squirm.

You'd accept, the pair releasing a deep sigh before you pulled each of them into a passionate kiss.

However, much to Stolas' annoyance, you wouldnt sleep with them that night, choosing instead to just share there bed.

With a relationship like this, you'd have to spend the first few weeks ensuring there was a solid foundation to it.

Youd mostly do this through spending time with them, getting to know them on both an emotional and personal level.

Youd definitely sleep with Stolas first, taking the prince in his office.

Pushing him onto his desk and taking him rough and passionately, just how you knew he wanted it.

Youd do something more romantic for Stella. Likely having a simple, yet majestic diner before taking her to your now shared bedroom for a night of passionate fornication.

Despite there royal status, you would be the one wearing the pants in the relationship. As you could easily dominate each of them with words alone, Stolas even easier then Stella.

Of course you understood the importance of there image and would take a more back seat role in the relationship when needed.

Youd have a surprisingly intimate relationship with the pair.

Stolas was always open to anything you suggested, often initiating them himself. And while not nearly as common as stolas, Stella would often initiate intimacy with you.

Despite the two being married, Sex between all three of you would not be very common.

As both Stolas and Stella had quite different wants and needs in the bedroom that didn't quite mesh well.

Stolas wanted to be utterly dominated in the bedroom, completely at your mercy. While Stella wanted someone who could keep her pace, if not take control in the heat of passion.

Romance would be a priority for you, often doing your best to sweep them off there feet.

Luxurious dinners, dates on the town, the theatre. Nothing was ever too much.

Octavia would be a rather large bump in the relationship, as on one hand, you were essentially a whole new person intruding on her family, on the other hand, you were a wanted third partner in Stella and Stolas' marriage, you weren't tearing the family apart by being with them.

It would take a long time, and an even longer term strategy, but she would eventually warm up to you.

Never really coming to see you as a parent, but still part of the family.

While life wouldn't be without its problems,

The balance of power being a major source of arguments, as while Stolas was easy to tame, falling completely under your sway, Stella was far more head strong.

As such she'd often but heads with her rather submissive husband, saying he didn't do enough to keep up there family status.

She would often compare him to yourself, something you would always dismiss, having to step in and calm her down.

While you could dominate her husband easily, you'd need to control her in a more subtle ways. Appealing to her ego or planting ideas in her subconscious. Having mentioned when you forced her submission, likely in bed.

So, While it would certainly had its ups and downs, your life with your royal love Birds would be an incredibly love filled one.

Having the royal pair wrapped around your lottle finger, your power and status would grow exponentially. All the while the two would willingly give themselves to you, smothering you in there love and affection.

Thanking you as they made you stronger.

#helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss x reader #helluva stolas #helluva stella #stella x reader #stella #stolas x reader #stolas

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

#trevor belmont #castlevania trevor #trevor x reader #trevor x you #trevor x y/n #castlevania #castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania x y/n #alucard #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x y/n #vampire

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Change of Scenery // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Captain Bobby Nash has kept a secret from his friends, his wife and his step children since 2015 when he came to LA. Bobby’s eldest and only surviving child comes to LA to reconcile and make amends all the while she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed firefighter.

Warnings: Swearing, death/familial loss, pregnancy, blood, angst, injuries/medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 8k

A/N: Back at it with another 9-1-1 fic. Hope you enjoy, and I may just have to do another crossover with 9-1-1 and Julie and the Phantoms.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

There are moments in our lives that define us, whether it can be known as a positive or negative, but the outcome is always the same. A six-letter word that strikes fear and excitement into the souls of humans is change. The fear can be for ourselves or as a result of a child, a sibling, or a parent branching out on their own. Unfortunately, you had gone through a harsh and cruel experience on a cold winter night in the city you grew up in.

A typical Thursday filled with classes at the college you attended in Minnesota on a scholarship, nothing out of the ordinary. The plan had been to drive to your parents’ apartment to catch up with them for the weekend. Saturday morning was already reserved for a girls day with your little sister Brook and your mom. In the afternoon, you’d promised to take your brother Bobby to the ball diamond.

Your bag was packed, the plan to drive straight from class to St. Paul the following day to arrive in the daylight. Your dad struggled with worry when it came to you driving in the dark and especially in winter with icy roads.

“Y/N!” Dottie screeched from the living room of the four-bedroom dormitory. The pretty and curvy brunette had been the first friend you made in college.

Typically Dottie was on the quieter side, so when she screamed, you practically sprinted to the girl.

“Where’s the fire?” You demanded with a smirk at the reference to a topic that was a constant in your family.

The fire drills your father conducted every four months for an exit plan in case of a fire and general information to save yourselves. He had also trained you to remember fire hazards and how to call dispatch with clear information if that time ever came. It never did and hopefully never would.

“The Lakeview Apartments in St. Paul.” Dottie’s dark brown eyes spoke only of pity and concern. The five foot ten roommate literally caught you as you tumbled into her arms with a loud grief-stricken scream.

You were forever indebted to the brunette for the plans she sacrificed to drive you back to St. Paul. There was absolutely no chance Dottie would allow you to both drive and be alone with no news. The media hadn’t released the names of the 148 deaths the fire relentlessly tore from the land of the living.

“I want to prepare you for what you’ll see. Your mother suffered severe third-degree burns over the majority of her body.” The kind nurse, also one of your friend’s parent, explained as she guided you to the Burn Center in the Regions Hospital, “I don’t want to lie and tell you she’ll be fine. You’re an adult Y/N. You deserve the truth and not be coddled.”

“Is she gonna survive?” You quietly asked, “Has she woken up since she was brought in?”

“The doctor placed her on a high dosage of morphine for the pain. Your father hasn’t left her side.” Lucinda informed you with sympathy written as over her face, The hazel eyes unable to adequately meet yours.

“I’ll check on her, then could you take me to the rooms my siblings are in?” You asked, completely unaware Brook and Bobby had been DOA at the hospital.

Your father hadn’t answered the text messages or the voicemails you had left on his phone—radio silent. You couldn’t be mad when he was with your mom, but a text would have been nice.

“This is where your mother is staying for the unforeseeable future. If you need anything, you can call me.” Lucinda softly replied before turning her heel to head back to the Burn Centre’s front desk.

It was horrific walking into a room with no idea if the occupant who had raised you would survive. The confident, gorgeous mother you had for the past nineteen years was unfamiliar to you, the extensive gauze covering nearly every inch of her body. You almost couldn’t even recognize the man sitting in the chair with his hands wrapped.

“Dad? What happened?” You questioned the grieving man. The only person left in your family as you would soon come to know.

“Y/N?” Bobby gasped, pushing himself to his feet, staring at his only living child. The guilt ate at him just staring at you with those light brown eyes, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Your dad crossed the room in a few steps. The scent of smoke was still clinging to every part of him, but it was fine. Your dad was okay, minus the wounds on his hands. You’d always been closer with your father than your mother.

“Dad, what happened?” You quietly asked the ashamed firefighter that had to reconcile his feelings on the fire and his career—that struggle ending up pushing you away when he really just wanted you as close as possible.

“The building caught on fire after an ember from a heater lit a blanket on fire,” Bobby informed you with his eyes pinned on his wife. Bobby knew the chances of Marcy surviving were incredibly low, and he had to tell you that.

Bobby only knew the details passed on from a firefighter who pitied the man who’d lost most of his family.

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” You questioned, and the said injured woman in the bed weakly responded.

“Baby?” Marcy quietly questioned from her absolutely still position on the hospital bed, “Uh, Bobby.”

You left your father’s side to be as close to your mom as possible, with the clear plastic separating you for her safety. Your heart shattered at the sheer exhaustion in her pretty blue eyes.

“Hi, Mom.” You shakily spoke with one hand lightly pressed against the plastic divider. You didn’t even notice when your dad stepped up too.

“Marcy?” Bobby called out from right beside you, just as torn up, but Bobby carried extra weight on his shoulders, “We’re right here, Marcy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The muffled grunt of pain, your mom’s attempt to save you from grief, Marcy let out as she turned her head to look at you. You knew deep in your gut that this was the time place you would see your mom alive. And by the look in her eyes, she knew too.

“The...kids…?” Your mom’s breathing became more erratic as she questioned the man she viewed as her hero. The man she believed had saved her and their youngest children, “Where...are they?”

“The kids are fine.” The way your father said it and the tears led to the knowledge once kept from you.

“No.” You whispered, seeing the total grief written clear on his face. The pain meds and agony kept your mom from knowing the truth.

“They’re safe.”

“I knew you’d come and save us.” Your mom breathed as her eyes started hiding the pretty blue you’d now only see in pictures. In your dreams, until even those faded as father time cruelly pulled you along.

Then your worst nightmare happened. You watched as the woman you looked up to flatlined with the thought of her children safe. You’d always know she’d held on just long enough to find out the state of her children. You could only hope she’d forgive your father for lying to her as she died.

“Mom!” You screamed, fighting the arms of an orderly restraining you. You barely noticed the resistance to your frantic attempts.

One minute you were staring at a team unsuccessfully trying to revive your long-gone mother, then you were in a hotel room. The atmosphere tense and quiet between father and daughter, with the ghost of your dead family to keep you both company. You could hear Brook gagging every time you’d kissed your now ex. You could see Bobby toddling after you years ago.

At least you had your father—a father whose guilt festered until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“It was my fault.” He murmured, staring at the barely eaten burger that tasted solely just cardboard. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, “I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

Your head snapped to stare at him in disbelief, “What do you mean you didn’t mean to leave it on?”

“I-I went to the roof to sleep after your mom kicked me out. I didn’t have my keys to the apartment I had below ours.” Bobby began spilling the lies he’d told to you about his addictions. Of the apartment, you’d had no clue was even in his possessions.

The pain of losing your family tore into you, “You took my mom away from me. I’ll never get to share my wedding day with her. Shopping for a dress and gossiping about boys. I’ll never be able to wipe Brook’s tears during her first heartbreak.”

Each word broke Bobby more and more.

“You stole my future. You’re selfish, ungrateful and utterly pathetic. You cost so many people so much, all because you sought out your next high.” You spat, glaring at someone you’d never expected to hurt you. You didn’t notice your hands grabbing your possessions nor opening the hotel room door, “You couldn’t even properly try to get clean.”

“Y/N-”

“Get your shit together before you kill anyone else. I never want to see you again.” You sobbed with regret already festering in your body, but pride held you back from apologizing.

Upon your return to your dorm with Dottie by your side, you immediately began the process to enter an exchange program. Within a month, your feet entered Sydney Airport. You didn’t return to America for several years.

You took a job as a casual lifeguard on Bondi Beach, met Lucas in a meet-cute situation at the grocery store. You graduated college and found a job as a paramedic as you began becoming a flight paramedic. In 2020 Lucas and you discovered you’d be bringing in a little baby into the world.

Learning about your little Cashew growing safe in your womb fanned the flame of desire to reconcile. Ultimately the pride kept pushing the urge to apologize for the cruel words you told your father further away. You naively believed you had all the time in the world.

Remember the six-letter scary word? If losing your mom, siblings, and father was a devastating blow, losing Lucas was nearly tied. Your little Cashew lost their father before they even got to meet him. That was push enough to pack up your home and fly back to America with your father’s new address as soon as you could.

In the fallout of the apartment fire, your father relocated from Minnesota to Los Angeles.

Los Angeles, 2020

As soon as you’d found the nicest but cheapest hotel to stay in until you found a place, you walked the streets of LA. The first order of business of approaching your father at his workplace as you had no personal address. Residing still in Minnesota, Deputy Chief Evans had only given you the address of Bobby’s work.

You could only hope Bobby wouldn’t turn you away. That he was willing to bridge the gap, you’d widened over the years. That he could forgive the silence to each email, he sent when you changed numbers.

“We should go out to dinner.” The female voice was what brought you back to the present time. The woman was beautiful with her buzzed head and clear skin.

Right by her side was a dark-haired male of Asian ethnicity with a bag thrown over his shoulder, “If you’re paying, you bet I’ll be there.”

The two continued to converse in their own world until the man had to literally dodge you when they finally noticed you.

“Does Chief Bobby Nash work here?” You inquired, having no desire to enter small talk when the baby was sitting on your bladder again. You nearly retched when the man stared down at your swollen midsection, shocked, “It’s not his baby.”

Hen caught the evident disgust on your face, “He’s in his office. I’ll guide you there…”

“Y/N.” You supplied the firefighter. Hen smiled in response, “And your name is…”

“Henrietta Wilson, but you can call me Hen. That was Howard Han. He goes by Chimney, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy on the name.” Hen chuckled in her steps to the closed door of the fire chief. Hen swiftly knocked on the door to give Bobby a heads up.

“Come in!” Bobby called from his pile of paperwork he had pushed and waited to work on. It had slipped as the date came closer. Your twenty-seventh birthday, the seventh one since he last saw you.

“Cap, a woman is asking for you,” Hen told her friend and boss. It’s a good thing you didn’t choose to surprise your father because Hen was shorted, and your bump made manoeuvring around tricky.

“What can I do…” Bobby trailed off when he saw the girl waiting to talk to him. The pen in his hand dropped to the table in shock.

Hen glanced between the two equally taken aback individuals, “Am I missing something here?”

“Hey, dad.” You whispered to the man who’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute you left. He’d searched for you at your previous college and nearly made a missing person report.

“Dad?” Hen couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor if she even wanted to because this was juicy information. Sure, Bobby had caved into telling his team, his family that he’d lost his wife and two children in a fire.

He rarely talked about his life before the 118, but he’d never mentioned having a surviving daughter. Not in the handful of times he’d talked about the tragedy, nor did he have any objects or photos of you.

“You’re really here?” Bobby lightly chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Hen had only seen a handful of times. All of them had Athena in the scene, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You beamed, stepping closer to the man you’d missed dearly, “I’m so sorry for the way I left. What I said was cruel and untrue. You aren’t selfish, and I can’t blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

Bobby grinned. He’d stepped around his desk only to halt when he took in an undeniable development—the baby bump you carried.

“Is-”

“I’m pregnant. Six months along with a baby girl.” You laughed to the apparent disbelief in your father’s light brown eyes. His gaze continued to shift between the bump and your e/c eyes.

“Wow. Sorry, this is...wow.”

“She’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. To fix our relationship because I want her to know her grandpa. You’re the only grandparent Poppy will know.” Bobby was quick to tug you into his arms as soon as the first tear dropped down your cheek.

There was so much you wanted to tell your father, but that overwhelming grief rose higher. You’d left Australia where Lucas laid in a plot in a cemetery. You left the friends you’d found in the city. Left the lifeguard job you’d come to love.

“Where are you and your partner staying?”

“He...uh...Lucas passed away recently.”

The arms holding you tightened in response to your confession, “Oh sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t stay in the home we bought. Not the place he died when I couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’-”

“Don’t coddle me. I was...am a paramedic. A flight paramedic, to be specific, so I know that my hesitation could be the reason he died.”

Your career took the father by complete and utter surprise because you’d always planned on a different job. Before the fire that claimed so many lives, you’d never entertained a career in the emergency field.

“We have a lot to catch up on. First, you need to know that I’ll always love your mother no matter what, but you need to know. I met someone when I first moved here, and we were friends at first. She divorced her husband. We started dating...sweetheart, I remarried.”

A wave of emotions flared in your chest, from betrayal to sadness and ultimately happiness. Having lost your first love, you understood and knew if love came around for you, you wouldn’t ignore it. Lucas wouldn’t want that.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Re-entering into Bobby’s new life was a difficult adjustment for everyone included. Tension had risen between Athena and Bobby for a brief period. Athena hadn’t even been aware of your existence, but she could fault Bobby. Athena had even told her first husband about her late fiance Emmett when they were still together.

It was difficult for you with the new addition of two step-siblings in the same birth order as Brook and Bobby had been. The Grant siblings had welcomed you into the family without any reservations.

“Did you ever get to fly the chopper?” Harry asked as he scrubbed the dirty dish from the Sunday family dinner.

It was the first dinner that had no awkward tension since you arrived back in the country. Athena had taken a bit to warm up, but it was nothing personal. She’d actually been the one to find you you’d been staying at a hotel. Mama Athena did not like her pregnant step-daughter living at a hotel. She’d actually stormed your room with Hen and Karen as back up to pack your room and leave for the Grant-Nash house.

“No. I had to help keep the patients alive. If I’m telling the truth...sometimes I didn’t even notice I was in the air.” You whispered to your stepbrother. He was just invested in your career as he had been when Bobby first entered their lives.

“That is so cool!” Harry enthused with soap suds splashing your thin knitted sweater. Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when you flicked water onto his face in retaliation.

“Do you know Bondi Beach in Australia?” You inquired the youth with the chore of dishes completed.

“Yeah! There’s a tv show called Bondi Rescue! I watch the clips on YouTube!” Harry exclaimed, hot on your heels to the couch. Out of May and Harry, he followed you around with questions about your life in Australia.

“I was a casual lifeguard. I’m not featured on that show, but I would get called in when a lifeguard was needed. It paired well with my job as a flight paramedic.” You half-smiled, remembering the Bondi lifeguards who had welcomed you into the family. You became one of them when they started pranking you.

“Did you ever see a shark-”

“Harry, go brush your teeth. Leave Y/N alone.” Athena informed her youngest from the open patio doors. Your father, Athena and May had been outside as soon as the table had been cleared.

“But-”

“Harry,” Athena warned the youngest Grant. Harry didn’t attempt to argue with his stern mother; all he did was hug you quickly. You watched the young boy disappear into the hallway.

“He reminds you of your little brother?” Athena questioned. In your time of reminiscing, the older woman had settled in Harry’s previous position.

“A little.” You whispered, “Thank you for welcoming me into the family. For making my dad happy.”

“You know I may have some baby clothes put away if you’d like to use them?” Athena offered with that smile that made you feel at home. Athena was far different from your late mother, with her presence commanding respect and intelligence. Your mom was similar, but I suppose it could be described as a softer touch.

“Anyway, saving a penny is appreciated. I have a question for you also.” You hesitantly started with a bundle of nerves deep in your belly. Athena turned to give you her full attention.

“Well? Out with it.” Athena pushed, but she had a slight feeling of what you were about to ask her.

“My mom was one the strongest women I know. It hurts that my baby won’t get to experience her love and guidance, and you can say no. We’ve only known each other a short time, but would you consider...maybe being a grandma to my baby?”

Giddy was the feeling Athena developed along with the laughing smile that only came from happiness. The woman could only nod her head in response to your hesitant question. To Athena’s knowledge but not yours, Bobby was softly smiling, watching his formerly estranged daughter getting along with your stepmom.

“Oh!” You gasped as your baby kicked hard enough for her foot imprint to be seen through your knitted sweater.

Bobby was by your side in concern the second he heard your startled sound, but Athena wasn’t that concerned. Athena remembered having the same reaction.

“Are you okay?” Bobby frantically questioned. He faltered when the woman shared a belly-deep laugh at the sheer fear written in the seasoned firefighter’s eyes.

“Poppy was kicking.” You chuckled as your father’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Here.”

Your nimble fingers clasped around your father’s wrist to bring his palm to the spot Poppy was kicking. A certain lightness flooded your entire body, being capable of sharing this experience with Bobby. Watching tears well up in the grandpa to be’s brown eyes.

“Whoa.” Bobby breathlessly spoke as Poppy kicked against his palm. The feeling building in his was exhilarating with the small amount of grief mixed in, “I remember when your mom was pregnant with you. We didn’t know if we were having a girl or boy, but she was adamant you would be a kickboxer. So active.”

Athena watched as the relationship between father and daughter started healing directly in front of her eyes. The Sergeant was about to give you two some privacy when you caught her hand in your free one.

“Here.” You informed the older woman shifting to place her hand where your father’s hand had previously been. Your e/c eyes sought the wonder-filled different shades of brown eyes the couple had.

“You should get some sleep,” Athena spoke, staring at her hand resting on your bump. Her dark chocolate brown rising to find your gaze, “You won’t be getting a lot once she arrives.”

Bobby and Athena watched as you turned the corner to the spare room Athena’s parents used when they visited. For the time being, you’ve moved into the room, and the Grant-Nash house hoped you would stay. May had always wanted a sister, and Harry loved all the stories you told about Australia.

“You know, at some point, you’ll have to talk to her.”

“I just was-’

“-without anyone else being the buffer. Bobby, both your lives is evidence enough that some things are too trivial to stress over.” Athena pinned her stern gaze on her husband. The same husband is actively trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

“What I did-’

“Is in the past, Bobby. You have a second chance with that wonderful woman in that bedroom and our grandchild. Now, are you sure that having the party at the firehouse is okay?”

A hand supported the base of your back where an ache tended to stay for most of the day. That ache wasn’t the worst symptom of your pregnancy. You had heartburn constantly that tied with unfortunate constipation that had thankfully lessened. Your purse always had a cardigan for the hot flashes as well.

“Perfect! May has my car, and Bobby needed that.” Athena beamed from the open bay of the 118. One of the firefighters, Eddie, if you recalled, snagged your purse and the specific ingredient for a recipe.

“You could have borrowed Bobby’s-”

“His vehicle is in the shop Buck.” Athena interrupted the only member of the 118 you had let to officially meet.

Now there were two suspects of the sudden shortness of breath you started experiencing. It could be Poppy in the limited space in your body or the handsome firefighter. Buck had to be hands down none of the most attractive men you’d ever encountered. His dark blonde hair had minimal height, but the soft waves made your fingers itch to feel it. His ocean blue eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

“Ah, so you’re flesh and blood of Cap?” Buck questioned from in front of you. His blue eyes centred solely on you, with half a mind thanking himself that he could navigate the station blindfolded in the dark.

“For the last twenty-seven years, I have been.” You retorted, stopping at the edge of the stairs to the apparatus. Your keen sense of smell catching one of your favourite meals your father had dug up from the recipes he hadn’t used in years.

A zing of electricity trailed off your arm when a calloused palm met yours. Your e/c eyes followed the path of tan skin until it reached the shirt sleeve of Buck’s t-shirt. The shirt emblazoned on the chest with the department’s insignia. The man in the casual uniform guided you safely up the stairs with his hand on your back.

The pressure of Buck’s hand on your aching back muscle nearly brought what would be an embarrassing moan from your lips. Thankfully a gasp of surprise fell out instead at the banner hanging with other decorations.

“What?” You choked, cupping your hands to your face. Pure unadulterated shock and affection flooded every inch of you.

The entire 118 squad intermixed with their loved ones surrounded the open area with grins. On a table behind everyone was many wrapped gifts. But the cake was the most impressive.

A large rectangular cake in the realistic shape of a fire engine parked in front of a fire hydrant with a fondant hose going to the truck. On top of the fire truck was the turnout boots next to the matching helmet, the 118 proudly on it. You adored the turnout coat draping off the top to hang off the side.

“If you look at the helmet, it says Poppy.” Buck enthused, guiding you even closer to catch the immaculate cake, “It has to be the best cake we’ve gotten from them.”

“Hey, my rebar head cake was phenomenal!” Chimney called with a belying grin on his face. His hand encased by a brunette woman about his height with her heels on.

“It’s a long story.” Buck offered as soon as you gave him a weird questioning look, “Let me introduce you to everyone!”

For the next five minutes, you spend it by meeting the family of 118, including Eddie’s completely adorable son. Christopher was happy to sit next to you as soon as Harry had found you. Slowly the others came closer to hear the stories.

“What’re the most common injuries on the beach?” Denny, Hen and Karen’s ten-year-old son questioned.

“Bluebottle Jellyfish stings. On one day, we had hundreds of people come to the tower for stings, and the treatment for the minor ones is stingose spray and ice.”

“My question is how a girl from Minnesota is a lifeguard in Australia. Especially on Sydney’s most dangerous beach.” Chimney inserted, waving his bottle of pop at you, his eyes kept moving towards the wine Maddie brought.

Unfortunately, the 118 wouldn’t be celebrating with the wine until their shifts ended in a few short hours. It was a damn miracle they hadn’t been called out yet.

“This former Minnesotan spent summers at my best friend’s parents’ place in Cali as a lifeguard. Also, Bondi is not the most dangerous beach in Sydney. That’s Tamarama.” You pointed towards the man who raised his hands in surrender.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” Harry asked, bringing a sobering silence in the question’s wake.

Your body language changed as soon as he asked, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen death as a paramedic and as a lifeguard.”

“You’re a paramedic? I thought you were just a lifeguard?” Buck asked, interested in the new information. Buck could feel his Captain’s eyes on the back of his head; he was sure Bobby could smell the attraction on Buck.

“Casual lifeguard. Called when needed as a backup.” You turned your e/c eyes towards the arguably youngest member of the 118.

“How many dead-”

“Harry.” Athena warned her son from continuing a topic that killed the ease and happiness you’d shown previously, “Why don’t we stop talking about-”

“Too many, Harry.” You interrupted your stepmom with a gentle smile towards the woman, “It’s not just drowning that claims lives but also the cliffs surrounding the beaches. Lifeguards patrol more than the beaches and water. Lifeguards respond to medical emergencies, mostly spinal until the paramedics arrive.”

“Oh-”

“I had a fellow lifeguard leave the job because of the suicides we deal with.”

“...who wants cake?” Karen used the quiet interlude of the much too serious topic for a group of kids barely in the double digits of ages. All referenced children followed Hen’s life to the beautiful baked creation.

“Sorry for getting dark there.”

“We all know the dark side of the jobs we chose to do. You sound like you miss Australia. Are you going to return there?” Eddie questioned with one eye pinned on his son, consuming more sugar than he wished.

Eddie’s question did raise self-doubt, but you knew that ultimately living in Australia was no longer a viable option.

“There’s nothing there for me.”

Eddie, Buck and your father understood that mentality to a ‘t’ with family complications keeping them away. Your father for obvious reasons, whereas Eddie and Buck each had a living family with opinions only they saw right.

“You’re always welcome here. Especially when you bring that little cutie to the firehouse.” Maddie cooed towards your baby bump. The 911 dispatcher had asked many questions about your pregnancy.

Maddie was the type of person who could make a stranger feel like they had known for their entire lives.

“Here.”

A plate of the cake was thrust in front of your face courtesy of Maddie’s brother Buck. It is quite literally the perfect size you could ask for. In his other hand, he had a new bottle of water waiting for you to grab.

“Thank you, Buck.” Your shock must have shown in your voice when his cheeks flushed.

“This whole party is a celebration for you, so you shouldn’t have to get up...unless you want to!” Buck rushed to respond, getting more flustered with the amused look of his older sister on him, “You’re already doing something absolutely amazing, so you should get to rela-”

“Buck!” You laughed, ending the older man’s rambling thoughts. The entire party attendees had started watching Buck’s failed smooth attempt.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Buck mutely nodded in response, “No prob-”

The bell was the one to interrupt him instead. The on-duty firefighters rushed down from the upper levels to the lockers. The swift suiting up impressed you as it was like you blinked, and the bay was empty.

“Should be the last call before they get off shift.” Maddie, still occupied with the cake she was eating, “That wine looks so good!”

Your attention snapped from the vacant spots the 118 vehicles parked to the woman ploughing down on the cake. Sure it was good, but not that good. Maybe you could tell as a pregnant woman, or perhaps you just caught some of the symptoms you felt.

“How far along are you?”

Maddie froze, “What are you talk-”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Chim and I found out recently, but we want to wait on telling people. Once the first trimester is over, everyone can know.” Maddie pleaded with two hands cupped under her chin in a prayer position. The pretty brunette using the puppy dog eyes on the new friend she’d made.

“You should tell Buck-”

“We will once we enter the safe zone. So tell me about your baby’s father.” Maddie swiftly changed the subject, unaware of the ache developing in your midsection.

“Lucas Gowan.” You mussed, recalling the freckled half Australian half Scots man with the thick red locks.

“Ooh, is he still in Australia?”

“Technically, he is. I met him at the grocery store near the university campus. I’d transferred to escape my grief. It was purely an attraction at first sight before developing into love at first sight. We convocated and moved into a cosy little place. We’d only just found out about the baby when Lucas passed away.”

As you told Maddie, your hand had moved to cradle the only remaining piece of Lucas.

“His death was unexpected and sudden. He’d taken a run the morning of our scan to find out baby Gowan’s gender. He fell off the side of the cliff. I was told he died instantly. The investigator believes his shoelace untied, and he stepped on it. Fell right off the side.”

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie breathed, leaning closer to hold your hands in her own, “He’d be so proud of you. For returning to the states. Do you keep in contact with his family?”

“He was an only child. Parents died in a car accident when he was ten years old. He was in foster care until he aged out of the system. Poppy is named after his mom.”

Maddie instinctively knew talking about Lucas was, “You know you get along pretty well with Buck... I’ve never seen him so flustered.”

“Maddie, I can tell you are a very intelligent woman, but you’re wrong here. Why would a guy like Buck be interested in a pregnant woman with a reconciling relationship with her father and his Captain while grieving her baby’s dad?”

Maddie tilted her head to the side, “Because I know my brother. He’s only ever had that look when I first moved to LA. Back when Abby was still important to him.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Maddie’s mouth opened to speak, but you were saved by the bell when Athena called you over for pictures. Then her attempts got thwarted once more when the 118 returned to the house perfectly synced to the end of shift.

“Driving here was the last time until the baby’s here. You’ve got precious cargo-”

“I’m seven months pregnant; I can still drive. There’s no law saying I can’t-”

Never argue with Athena Grant-Nash, “It may not be illegal, but I won’t endanger my daughter or my granddaughter.”

“I have to get to my OB/GYN appointment tomorrow. You and Dad each have a long shift during my scheduled appointment. Harry is both too young to drive and in school. May has a shift at dispatch. There’s literally no one available to take me.”

Bobby watched as two of the most important women in his life argued over something as trivial as driving. Harry shook at listening to someone fighting against his mother; she could be terrifying.

“I can take her.”

Everyone in the fir house turned to the voice who’d offered suddenly and found the sheepish form of a tall firefighter. Eddie’s eyebrows raised at his best friend.

“I don’t work tomorrow. I’ve got no plans. Albert’s got some date with a girl at her place.”

“I couldn’t put you out.”

“You need a ride, and I’ll be bored, so why not take my new friend to her baby doctor.”

“Baby doctor?” Hen parroted to her wife in astonishment towards her coworker and close friend. Both the women found the blatant flirting from Buck to the soon to be mother.

“She’ll take you up on the offer. She’s staying in our guest room. Come early for breakfast before you go. We’ll be having waffles.”

Buck found any excuse to visit the Grant-Nash home with the motive to hang out with you ever since the baby shower. From delivering baked goods from your favourite bakery to insisting on driving you to appointments. Didn’t matter if Athena or Bobby could take you; Buck was adamant he drove you.

The friendship was easy going and very natural, like a ball glove still moulded perfectly to your hand. The hangouts in your home evolved to weekly visits to restaurants with guidelines to the current event happening worldwide.

Ultimately it even led to a test date.

“You look breathtaking.” Buck breathlessly informed you once he’d gently pushed your chair closer to the table.

“Thank you.” You kindly responded despite thinking the complete opposite to the charming man sitting across from you.

Athena and May had helped you get ready for the date with calming words on how going on a date so far into the pregnancy was okay. Then, your father had tentatively inserted himself with sage advice on re-entering the dating scene.

“I thought we could grab some ice cream after,” Buck spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken your drink order. Buck had decided to refrain from alcohol and went with glasses of lemonade and water.

“You shouldn’t say that. I’ll just want ice cream.” You snickered, caressing the taut belly you’d grown to love. In fact, the firm push of a heel announced Poppy’s agreement with ice cream as dessert.

“How is Poppy?”

“The doc says she’s right on track. Healthy all around and in the position, she’s supposed to be at this stage.” Buck adored the affectionate smile that always appeared when the topic of your pregnancy was brought up.

“That’s amazing! Bobby gushes about you and Poppy. The fridge has an entire door dedicated to sonograms of Poppy. Even a few from that maternity shoot Hen and Maddie surprised you with.”

A few weeks had passed since the baby shower the 118 had surprised you with. Maddie had announced her pregnancy to the joy of the chosen family she had. Bobby had put together a crib he had painted. Michael, Athena’s ex-husband, had started making plans for adding on to the house for a room for the baby.

Despite informing the architect, you planned on moving out when you had saved enough, he’d made a sound argument. Athena would want a place for the baby to stay when you visited, or the woman demanded to babysit.

Now you found yourself in a National forest not far from Los Angeles, posing in front of nature. A surprise photoshoot Hen and Karen had organized with Karen’s brother Trey. Maddie and Athena had been the ones who drove you.

“Hold the teddy bear on your bump,” Trey informed you from behind his professional and intimidating camera. The photographer praised you in the rapid movement to listen to his offer.

“Hey! Maddie! You should take a few photos. I need a pee break.” You didn’t wait for Maddie to respond in your rush to the somewhat rustic bathroom hut.

By the time you returned, Maddie was taking a couple pictures. Then you took some with Athena to have on the nursery walls and for Bobby to have a photo for his desk.

“Now one with all three of you.”

Present

“So a daredevil.” You stated unsurprised that the firefighter had a history of recklessness. You don’t go into firefighting without a taste for danger.

“The bruises and blood fit better than the awful bleached hair during my time in Peru.” Buck laughed, recalling the questionable choice in his fashion pre-firefighting. Sometimes he missed the people he encountered in his period of self-discovery.

“You didn’t wear puka sh-”

“I did. Bleached hair, puka shells and Hawaiian shirts were my staples during my bartending years. I fit in with the aesthetic of the bar I tended.”

“Buck!” You nearly gasped at his raw honesty. Buck didn’t hold back any answers to your questions, but you each strayed from the topic of family.

Talking about the tragic family history wasn’t a good idea on the first time regardless of the time you’d known each other.

“You’re telling me-” Buck halted as soon as he caught the flash of discomfort flicker over your beautiful features, “Are you okay?”

“She shifted. Been sitting on my blad-” You cut yourself off with a hiss of pain. Buck’s eyes widened at the pain taking over your features, “Oh, that hurt.”

Buck went straight into work mode, “Have you been in pain for long?”

“No. A few cramps here and there today, but my doctor said it was nothing to worry about.” You informed the experienced first responder resting level to your knees.

Buck didn’t want to say it, but he was sure that you’d gone into early labour. There was no indication your water had broken, but he kept over the last hour together. Every once in a while, you shifted or pressed a hand to your bump.

“Has your water broken?”

You shook your head, “No, but...oh... that’s not a cramp.”

With that statement out, you clenched your fingers tight on the edge of the table as pain rippled in your belly. A contraction that stole your breath momentarily. In your contraction, Buck had dialled 911. Buck recalled that sometimes a woman’s water doesn't break until right before the birth.

“We’re not getting that ice cream, are we?” You snorted upon being lifted onto the gurney. How fortunate or unfortunate you were to have the 118 right there.

Hen had taken a position at your feet to check on your lower body while Chimney took your vital signs. You honestly didn’t like the look Hen and Chimney shared with Buck.

“What is it?”

“We’re gonna need to deliver here.” Hen sighed, giving you the facts that terrified you. When you envisioned having the baby, it was in a medical centre. Not in a restaurant.

“My office is large and away from the crowd if you want. I can show you the way.” Sophie, the restaurant manager, offered already starting to lead the way. Sophie would never know how thankful you felt for being able to have privacy.

“Okay, Y/N, is it okay if I check how dilated you -.” Hen breathed with her hand, gently disappearing until the thin blanket Chimney procured from the stocked ambulance, “Y/N when I saw I want you to do that.”

Hen didn’t need to check your dilation when she could see the baby’s head already.

“I’m right here.” Buck cooed in your ear. He had held your hand as his coworkers did their jobs around you.

“This isn’t the way I envisioned you seeing my pu-”

“Push.” Hen urged, cutting off your almost vulgar language, but it eased the tension in the small restaurant office. You couldn’t even see Buck’s flustered reaction as you bore down with the contraction, “Good! Take a breath.”

“You’re a strong woman. It never ceases to amaze me the strength women have.” Buck spoke, keeping your e/c eyes on his blue ones. His hand raised to push a strand of your sweaty hair off your temple.

“Once more push!” Hen called out just in time with the last contraction. The feeling of the pressure between your legs popping was moan inducing.

Poppy was silent. Your entire body froze, yearning for the sweet sound of crying instead of the eerie silence. The world stood still as Chimney worked on your baby girl.

“Pulse is strong,” Chimney announced, keeping his attention on the task of clearing Poppy’s throat and nose. And that sweet sound of crying commenced, “Congratulations Y/N, you have a beautiful baby girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Your father beat the ambulance to the nearest ER in pure anticipation at meeting his granddaughter Poppy Nash Gowan. He barely noticed as Buck stuck to your side like glue. Bobby waited outside the door as you got checked over in the room.

“Quite the first date.” You mused towards Buck, who hovered in awe over the life form you had carried for nine months. You’d been pregnant for three quarters of an entire year to his fascination.

“All my meaningful relationships started with a medical emergency.” Buck finally looked up at you. He’d kept Poppy company in the bassinet while you delivered the afterbirth upon entering the hospital.

“Seriously?”

“Had a tracheostomy on Valentine’s Day with Abby, an earthquake with Ali and a newscaster in a crashed helicopter.” Buck listed off. He hadn’t even noticed scooping the newborn into his arms until he’d sat in the chair by your bed, “Why not add a sudden labour and delivery.”

“He would have liked you.”

The sentence came out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like something had ripped it out of your vocal cords. At the look of confusion, you elaborated.

“Lucas. He would have liked you. I think if it is possible, he might have pushed me into meeting you. I’ll still need to take it slow, but I’d like to give this a shot.”

That was all Buck needed to lean in closer to kiss you—the first of many kisses.

Some might disagree on how quick your relationship with Buck developed, but they didn’t know yours at all. It was natural with the firefighter who stepped into the role of father figure for a growing Poppy. By the time Poppy was one, you’d moved into a house not far from your father’s place with Buck. By the time Poppy was three, a pretty ring had sat on your finger. By five, the young girl had a baby brother.

“Your parents spoil Poppy.”

“You say that like you didn’t crawl into her crib during her afternoon naps.” You deadpanned towards your husband. Buck had the nerve to sheepishly grin, “You give in each time she says ‘pwetty pwease’ for a cookie.”

“It’s a crime to make her sad!” Buck defended himself, but a grin of amusement threatened his act, “Besides, you crack each time too!”

“Mhm. Just wait until Theo can talk.” You pressed a kiss to the sleeping infant strapped into the baby carrier. Theodore Robert Buckley could fall asleep in a thunderstorm if he was in Buck’s arms.

“Oh! Maddie wants to have Poppy over for a play date. Madster’s been begging for her cousin to have a sleepover.”

Maddie and Chimney’s daughter was only a few months younger than your daughter, but the two were thick as thieves. Buck had referred to the Han daughter as Madster with how similar her mannerisms were to her mother.

“Think they’d take the rascal?”

“Is this code for you wanting to have another?” Buck questioned with a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. The same blue Theo had inherited along with a birthmark like Buck’s on his bicep.

“I-” You choked, blinking furiously, “Evan, I pushed Theo out of my body barely three months ago!”

Buck inconspicuously winked in response with the sudden scream of excitement coming from Poppy. The rambunctious five-year-old ploughed into Buck’s legs full force. Falling into the practised ease, you’d unstrapped Theo from Buck’s chest and promptly had his tiny body stolen into his grandpa’s arms.

“There’s my boy.” Bobby cooed to the sleep drunk tiny infant. The little baby is crowded by his Gram Athena and Aunt May, “Gonna have to get you a Minnesota Wilds jersey.”

“Hell no. That boy is LA born and bred. He’ll be wearing a Kings jersey like the civilized.” Michael announced with the sudden arrival of Theo and Poppy’s Uncle Harry.

“Mommy? When are we going to Stralia?” Poppy inquired from right beside your leg. Her tiny handheld is the giant one of her dad.

“In a few weeks. Are you excited to see the mommy’s old friends again?”

“Hm. Can we see Dada?”

Buck may be Poppy’s father, but he’d never let Poppy go without knowing she had two fathers in all. Her first one waiting to meet here decades from the time she was born and solely referenced Lucas as Dada. Buck was grateful for the man who brought Poppy into existence; the little green-eyed tot Buck could never regret. Unlike Buck’s parents keeping his older brother’s existence a secret, the firefighter refused to follow in their footsteps. He’d continue to shower the late Lucas in gratitude and respect. He refused to make the same mistakes as Phillip and Margaret Buckley.

“Of course. C’mon Poppy, time to say goodbye.” Buck guided the little girl to the extended family showering her little brother with love. The little girl was quickly swung into Bobby’s arms, and Athena cooing at your infant son.

Changes. The six-letter word doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can be breathtaking, memorable and beautiful to experience.

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ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#elucien #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien #angst #possibility

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #cursed au #dad macaque #i couldn't help adding in a little idea i had with him and wukong at the end #since this is pretty much non-canon to the au anyway

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treybriggsthewriter · 4 years

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This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help.

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing. That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels.

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line.

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

#support black authors #writeblr #support black creators #black creators #original characters #original story #donate #buy black #black businesses #my writing #Astrid the Devil #Vicious #Bunni and Bosque #Aite and Jude #Trey Briggs the Writer #paranormal horror #speculative fiction #gofundme

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