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astariontopofme · 7 months

Note

Hi! I loved your Astarion fic very much!! You really captured him very well! :D I would love to request a fic where Tav/Reader invites Astarion to watch the sunset with them and just have a sweet time together without obligation of anything more. Thank you! ❤️

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐬 🌞 (Astarion x GN!MC)

A/N: I took this prompt and ran too far with a bit of angst, I apologise. There’s still fluff I promise! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.3k

___

Alone and miserable was exactly how Astarion intended to spend his evening.

He was growing a little tired of these long days ending in disappointment. They had been on the receiving end of some particularly brutal attacks that afternoon, each one adding to the ever lengthening delay on their mission to find a cure for their tadpoles.

It seemed there wasn’t an end in sight, their days repeatedly starting and finishing the same way. The worst part about it for him was his confliction when it came to the matter at hand. One minute he was determined and dead set on finding someone or something that could remove the tadpole, and the next minute he was absorbed by the actuality that the tadpole had given him the happiest moments of his prolonged life.

One of those moments being the warmth of the sun on his cold skin.

He couldn’t imagine being stripped of such luxury again, locked in the shadows until the harshly cold moon replaced the flourishing gold beams that it blessed upon the world. The very thought left him in a slight state of panic if ever he dwelled on it long enough. Everyone else was yearning for the solution to their infections, which was fair. It hadn’t brought anyone but himself any joy, just a disruption to their lives.

Which was why these thoughts were always kept to himself. He didn’t want to hear about how ‘everything would be okay’ or the irritating default ‘cheer up’ phrases. It wasn’t as simple as just seeing the bright side of ridding himself of the tadpole. Sure, it would eliminate the chances of being turned into something he didn’t want to become, but removing it would turn him back into his old self, something else he didn’t want to be.

The very thought of avoiding the daylight made him feel ill. He hadn’t expected to be so attached to it when he first realised the warmth on his skin wasn’t cooking him alive. Two hundred years of darkness was what he had no choice but to be used to. He knows how to live out his life that way, but he didn’t want to.

He just wanted to be free.

So as he could hear the rest of the camp making their attempts at cheering each other up, Astarion sat in his lonely little tent, slowly waving his hand in the strip of honey-like light that had invited itself in through the gap of the tent’s entrance. He almost wanted it to start burning him, just to prepare him for his impending intolerance to the beauty cascading a rich bronze hue across his deathly pale skin.

Judging by the deep shade of the soothing beam, the sun was beginning its daily journey to another part of the world. The nights were always a little difficult when he got in his head like this. Every glance at the stars shimmering in contrast to the ebony sky made him wonder if that had been his last day in the warmth before someone excitedly presented him with a cure he only half wanted.

Just as he felt himself starting to spiral uncontrollably, his tent was suddenly deprived of its sliver of warm light. Before he could tell whoever had come to bother him to leave him alone, a familiarly soft yet strong hand clasped itself around his, tugging him out of his solitary as his knees crashed into the hard ground. He was ready to start shouting at whoever had the sheer audacity to pull him around like that, but as he looked up from his knees he was met with a contagiously joyous smile.

Whatever Tav was so happy about must not have reached the others, most of them sitting around the start of a fire and barely looking any happier than he felt. The misplaced display of glee was almost irritating him, but the irritation was fizzling out quickly, as it always seemed to do with his partner.

Gods he was getting soft.

Doing his best to be stern after being so unexpectedly manhandled, he put on his best frown. “What on earth was that for?!”

Still, the look of delight before him did not falter. If anything they looked even more pleased that he was in a bad mood.

The same hand that had kidnapped him from the confines of his tent reached out to help him up. Being the ever so petty man that he could proudly be, Astarion completely ignored it and dragged himself up to his feet, being sure to scoff as he brushed the dirt from his knees.

“Come on,” his over excited companion commanded.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, what?”

Before his tongue had even hit the roof of his mouth to exaggerate the T at the end of what, he watched his partner turn around quickly, darting off into the woods surrounding the camp.

Although their actions hadn’t exerted any will within him to now go and spend time with them, he wasn’t prepared to let them scurry off into the woods alone before it got dark. He quickly grabbed a small dagger from a stool outside his tent and hastily set forth to catch up to them. Sure, he was a little pissed, but he was too protective of them to retreat back into his tent and stew in his misery.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, despite how quickly his partner was speed walking through the trees. Wherever they were going, they were clearly in some kind of hurry.

“Will you slow down,” Astarion hissed. “Where in the hells are you going?!”

Tav simply continued without a word, stopping very suddenly at the edge of the forest. There was quite a drop only a few feet in front of them, and Astarion found himself automatically reaching out to grab the back of his partner's top, despite the fact that they had already come to a halt.

“I knew this would be the perfect place,” Tav exclaimed with an accomplished grin.

Astarion couldn’t help but hope that this wasn’t what he thought it was. He wasn’t entirely in the mood to try and be interested in sex right at this very moment in time, nor was it the most comfortable looking place for it.

“Look, I enjoy your body a great deal, but I’m not really-”

Tav’s gaze shot straight up to him, the smile dropping from their face. “I…I didn’t bring you here for sex, Astarion,” they explained innocently. “You know that’s not all I want from you…don’t you?”

Astarion didn’t know how to answer this. He had spent so much of his life being used to lure people to their doom with sex that he still couldn’t decipher between being appreciated and being used. It was a difficult area in their new relationship that they both knew would take time and plenty of reassurance. He trusted his partner a great deal, more than he had ever been able to trust a person before in his life.

After a few awkwardly silent minutes went by, Tav cut the tension by pointing out towards a body of water in the distance. “I wanted you to watch with me,” they murmured quietly, crossing one leg over the other to sit on the hard ground.

Astarion watched as the deeply orange sun was slowly approaching the water, reflecting itself on the surface like fire dancing over ice. It was a rather breathtaking sight, one that forced his legs to follow the same crossing motion to sit beside his partner and bask in such a beautiful sight.

Despite the earlier downward spiral into his fear of sun deprivation, he had never felt so soothed and relaxed by such simplicity. He hadn’t yet watched a sunset, which was usually down to missing it whilst journeying back to camp. The brightest star in the sky was sinking away, emanating a golden sheet across everything that surrounded them. It was almost hypnotic just how fascinating the sight truly was.

Any resentment he had for being dragged out of his tent against his will had dissolved almost instantly. This relationship thing was still all very new to him, and his biggest obstacle was understanding, which was difficult as there were so many things he just didn’t understand. The main one being Tav’s interest in him.

Even he couldn’t deny that he could be a bit of a negative bastard at the best of times, and yet this ridiculously patient person he found himself to be enamoured with wanted to share such a beautiful and intimate moment with him without the obligation of intercourse. They really did care about him.

But for how long?

If they were to eventually find a cure, Astarion was almost certain that he’d lose something far more valuable to him than the sun. Why would such a bright soul want to spend the rest of their life with him in the shadows?

He tore his gaze away from the descending sun to glance at his partner, only to find them already looking at him.

“Isn’t it lovely,” they whispered quietly, as if raising their voice would scare the beauty away.

Astarion swallowed a hard lump in his throat, not knowing how to answer that question. It was lovely, but he wasn’t just thinking that of the sunset.

Before he could catch his tongue, he blurted out a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Are you going to leave?”

Once again, Tav’s content smile faded into a small and confused frown. “Leave? Leave what?”

He could hear his conscience shouting at him to just shut up and quit being so pathetic, but his mouth seemed to overrule it. He needed some sense of security.

“Me.”

The hurt look on the face that had recently become his favourite caused his cold heart to squeeze in his chest. He didn’t want to come across so accusingly, but he wasn’t exactly accustomed to loyalty. Nobody had cared for him the way they did, yet as much as he was afraid that they would eventually grow tired of him, he wouldn’t ever be surprised if they did as he just didn’t expect much from people.

Judging by the sudden sadness in those fascinating eyes, Tav hadn’t actually thought about it in the way he had. “You think I’m going to leave you when you can no longer walk in the sun,” they questioned, though it came out as more of a statement.

Astarion didn’t verbally respond, but the way his body tensed up at the thought was enough of an answer for his partner. Tav shuffled over a little, sitting closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his leg. Their piercing stare bored into him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes with his.

Still, Tav spoke so softly that it almost made Astarion uncomfortable. “If I had plans to leave you after these tadpoles are gone, then I wouldn’t have bothered with you in the first place. I know what you are, Astarion. I know what comes with being a vampire. That’s not going to change how I feel about you.”

He couldn’t suppress the frustrated sigh that escaped him. “That’s easy for you to say now,” he said, surprisingly calm. “But when you’re confined to the darkness-”

“I’ll still love you.”

It was the first use of the word between the couple. A word Astarion didn’t have a lot of experience with, which was why he couldn’t decipher between whether the feeling in his chest when he heard the intimidating word was a reciprocating feeling of love or whether he was dying on the spot. His eyes snapped back to his partner, but they were now staring off towards the water again, watching as the sun disappeared into the horizon and took its warmth with it.

Yet he still felt warmth. It was growing almost painfully in his chest as his heart thumped at an alarming rate. Any time he had heard someone explain what love felt like, the word warmth had almost always come up.

“The sun’s gone,” Tav whispered quietly, taking his hand. “And I don’t feel any differently. I mean it, Astarion. I love you.”

Astarion’s whole mouth felt like cotton. He did love them, he could physically feel it within him. But he was afraid that the words could not form yet. Sure, he’d falsely told people he loved them for manipulation purposes, but real love was a huge step for him, and he felt he needed to truly understand its meaning before he could declare such a thing back.

“You don’t need to say anything,” his partner reassured him softly, picking up on his dilemma.

He swallowed hard. “It’s not that I don’t-”

“I know.”

Their eyes finally met, something different presenting itself between them. It felt as though their relationship had taken on a new meaning, one that slightly soothed that voice in his head telling him he was going to end up alone when their mission was over. He just couldn’t believe he had found such a remarkable soul in such a strange and life threatening situation.

Though he couldn’t use the word love just yet, he couldn’t let this moment end with his silence. He knew that he could feel it, and he needed them to know that.

“I’ve always heard the phrase that home is where the heart is…and I never really understood it before now,” he began to conclude. “Nothing ever felt like home to me. Not Baldur’s Gate, and certainly not Cazador’s palace.”

He reached his free hand up to cup Tav’s cheek, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across their slightly blushed skin as they melted into his touch.

“But you…I have a home in you.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic! This is my first time writing with a gender neutral character so please be kind if I’ve made any mistakes!

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jhkfan123 · 3 months

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scandal | coriolanus snow

pairing: young!presidentsnow x fem!reader

in which: the affair between you and president snow got out quite suddenly, and him being married to livia cardew didn't help. you had to talk to him about this.

warnings: none

wc: 1.5k

the capitol's breeze made its way through you as you rushed to coryo's house. you usually chose to bear the traffic during winter time, but you had to get to the presidential mansion as fast as possible. for today's morning newspaper made it of the upmost priority to talk to him.

you met snow when he was in the position of apprentice gamemaker, under dr. volumnia gaul. you had been studying at the university in political science, and he studied military strategy, which meant the two of you often attended a few of the same lectures.

nothing had ever happened between you two, not at the university at least. it wasn't until a few months ago that you secretly began seeing him. he was president now. it was crazy to think that the charmed young man you met no more than ten years ago was now president of panem.

you had been studying under one of dr. gaul's top colleagues. then, you were offered a position in your professor's department. surprisingly, the one who ended up in politics was snow, and the one who ended up in war strategy was you. however you didn't just cover war strategy in your high-end position. you controlled all security measures for panem. to a certain point, anyway. you weren't the head of your department, but you were pretty high up in the ranks. enough to veto and approve decisions. you were a boss to others, but you also had a boss. comfortably in the middle.

as you got closer to the mansion, you saw more and more news trucks appear. of course. you should have expected this. if any one of them saw you, your plan would be ruined. you thought quick on your feet as you kept heading in the right direction. you were going to take the back door, where the serving quarters were. it was the way you got into the mansion when you would see him most nights.

as you fiddled for the back keys in your purse, you heard voices getting louder. you had assumed someone had just walked out of the house. you attempted to get a glance at the person attracting so much attention. from a slightly obstructed view, you managed to identify ms. livia snow. his wife.

you felt bad for livia. she didn't deserve to be cheated on like this. but at the same time, he had never really loved her in the first place. and she knew that. you had never really understood why she chose to marry him. but everyone knew the power the snow's held. saying no to a snow was a risky idea. but livia was a sweet woman. she deserved someone better than snow. someone who gave as much effort as she did.

as you turned the key, you made sure to watch all angles of the house to make sure no cameras had turned your way. when you came to the conclusion that you were safe, you made your way inside swiftly. the chill air of panem shifted to the warmth of a nearby fireplace. it was comforting, yet gave you goosebumps at the same time. the fireplace may have provided some sort of light and glow, but the chilling feeling of walking porcelain halls overtook it. this house felt like a museum. nothing ever felt alive. and today especially, with everything that was going on.

you assumed the only place snow would be was in his office, so you made your way up the grand staircase, and walked down the long and never ended hallways until you reached the double brown doors that had become so familiar to you these past months. a lot of your affair happened in his office, where windows barely captured any actions. you took a breath before knocking on the door.

knock. knock. knock......knock. three knocks, then a fourth one slightly later. it had become your special knock. so he knew it was you there for him rather than his wife, for example.

"come in." you heard, muffled through the thick doors. you pressed down on the cold doorhandle and entered. when you did, there was a sense of stillness. he hadn't been working today.

you noticed him standing in the middle of the office, his back to you, facing the intricate fireplace surrounded by bookshelves.

"hey." you said, a melancholy tone in your voice. you could tell he wasn't ecstatic to see you. he finally turned around, his eyes meeting yours. you walked towards him. "i assume you've heard." you glanced out the window, which surprisingly showed a perfect view of the news trucks outside.

"i'm not an idiot of course i've heard." he said. his face suggested that he had been very agitated all morning. he turned back towards the fireplace. you came up behind him and placed one of your hands on each of his upper arms. you felt him melt at your touch, all the stress of the morning lifted off his shoulders, for a moment at least. you attempted to place your head on his shoulder, but the height difference made it difficult. "we're going to be ok." you said.

"we may be ok, but what about my campaign?" his voice became more stressed. his teeth gritted together. "the people still have to vote every four years, and if they found out i'm a cheating man, they will assume so much more, and I will be put to rest. or my career at least." he wasn't wrong. this would not help his campaign.

"we will find a way to get people's mind off this. give them something else to focus on, so by the time elections come around again, they won't even think about it. besides, you're smart, so am i." you used one of your arms to turn him around so the two of you were now facing each other.

"it's infuriating the way you always look on the bright side." he took an audible breath through his nose and looked down.

"it's infuriating when you are such a downer." you attempted to lift the mood, and you even got a tiny smile out of him. you didn't notice anything was happening until he wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. not just a peck. his kisses surprised you every single time, without fail, even after almost half a year. they were always more intense than you expected. it wasn't until almost a minute later he finally released you.

"i hope they know i won't stop being with you just because of this." he said. his kiss had you scrambled, and took you out of the mindset you were originally in. now you were happy to be with him again.

"i would hope so. look why won't you just divorce livia?" you placed your hand on top of his that was now laying on his desk.

"i would in a minute. for you. i don't care about her. never have. i needed someone who wouldn't distract me. someone i didn't have to care about. and that was working. then you came along." he glanced down at your hand on top of his. "fuck." he sighed. "it was impossible not to be distracted by you." he moved you closer to him. you grinned at his comment, putting your head down. he took his finger and lifted your head up.

"well the same goes. in university, i gained such a crush on you." it was true. you hadn't acted on it but there was always something about him. "and then we both ended up in the government and i jumped at the chance to talk to you again. and then it turned into this. this scandal." you could feel his ego boost at the mention of you having a crush on him. he gained a proud smile on his face.

"glad to know were on the same page." he joked. you had finally gotten him happier, now. "i hope you know i would marry you in an instant if i could." if i could. the words hurt. knowing this would have to stay the scandal it is now. unless livia decided to divorce him first. but you knew that family needed the support of the snow's. so it wasn't going to happen. he pulled you into another kiss, this time the scene was much longer. he grabbed the lower part of your back and that signaled you to jump. you wrapped your legs around his waist and he supported them. he sat you down on the desk and poured his love into you in quick kisses.

you knew this would eventually had to stop. he couldn't just keep seeing you while having a wife and a career. the scandal could ruin his career. and knowing him, he would eventually choose his career. but that didn't have to happen yet. not now, at least. so you took this moment to soak in the love that would eventually get in the way of too many things.

sneaking around was fun. seeing him was fun. but you realized that in the end, it was just fun. so you made sure to absorb all the fun that you could. in this time, in this office, you made sure to take in all the fun you could get.

#jhkfan123 #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #snow lands on top #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #president snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanussnow #coriolanus my coquette queen #coriolanus smut #snow #hungergames #tbosas

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gtgbabie0 · 11 months

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-Sirius Black x reader

{Sirius is a little more touch starved then he thought, he just doesn’t know how to ask for help}

Short and sweet! Enjoy as always lovelies!! 💕

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Sirius wildly underestimated just how much of an effect you had on him. He was absolutely hooked on everything revolving around you. Remus and James often teased him for it, telling him that you had him wrapped around your dainty finger, which is somewhat true, not that Sirius would ever admit to it.

But it was still true nonetheless, his heart was yours, wholly.

Which means that in hindsight he most definitely shouldn’t struggle with asking for a simple hug, or kiss or even just to cuddle. But goodness was that easier said than done because the words seem to be caught in the back of his throat. It made him feel silly in a way.

You could tell something was wrong with him just by how quiet he was. Sitting as far away as possible, fidgeting with his hands as he focuses on anything but you. Sirius hates this feeling, whatever it might be.

You notice the way his eyebrows furrow together, how he nibbles on his bottom lip as if he’s deep in contemplation. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops before the words can leave him, he does this almost five times before you finally decide to say something.

You nudge his thigh with your foot, making him look over at you, “What’s going on huh? you've been really quiet” You ask, and he almost looks surprised that you even noticed.

He goes to say something but then he closes his mouth once again. There's a beat of silence before speaks again, “Nothing angel, it's nothing” liar, complete liar. And he knows, by the unsure look in your eyes, that you have caught on to his not-so-believable lie, that’s why he’s quick to stand up making his way to your kitchen, saying something about him being 'thirsty'.

He doesn’t want to confront the situation, or his feelings, he's always had a bad habit of bottling things up, in fact, he didn’t really want to think about it, so he avoids it altogether. But you catch on to what's happening pretty quick, the way he kept glancing over at you, how his hands were constantly fiddling with something. It was a dead giveaway.

So you follow him out to the kitchen, noticing that he's leaning against the countertops, his lower back pressed against the dark marble as he runs a hand through his hair with an almost frustrated groan.

You place a gentle hand against his shoulder and he sighs at the warm feeling. “Hey, come here” you whisper, softly smiling at the way his eyes light up as you hold your arms out for him.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his arms immediately wrap around you, holding you close to him and he swears his heart might just jump out of his chest. It’s pathetic he thinks, how you can make him feel like this, as if he might just crumble.

Your hands soothe against his back, “You should’ve just asked baby” you tell him as he buries his head further into your shoulder breathing deeply, and he feels like he can finally breathe.

“Didn’t know how” he admits and your hands cup either side of his face. Sirius thinks the embarrassment might just eat him alive, but then you press your lips against his and he melts completely at the loving feeling.

He loses himself, his heart blooming with warmth as he chases after your lips with haste, eager to feel you close to him as if it was the first time you’ve seen each other in years.

“Thank you” he whispers, as he rests his forehead against yours and you let out a breathy giggle as your thumb grazes against his cheek.

“Anytime handsome,” you tell him smiling at the way he chuckles, shaking his head softly. His arms circling around you once again.

You tug on his hand as you lead him back to the living room, pulling him down on the sofa with you as you both lay together entwined with nothing but love, and Sirius wouldn’t have it any other way.

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vall-the-pen · 18 days

Note

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham angst #angst to comfort #4ggravate #alhaitham #alhaitham comfort #dehyarzad #genshin dehya #dunyarzad

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veintrry · 2 months

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I'VE DONE THE MATH

there's no solution.

synopsis: love with scara is hard

an: have you guessed this is a laufey ref, I just felt like writing something lovey but I like angst too much. also... hey teehee also shoutout ayame for getting me out of my slumber <3

Scaramouche and you have always held a complicated relationship. Even your friendship was confusing, in the sense that it was deeper than most. Maybe not necessarily romantic, but it certainly wasn't exclusively platonic. You two relied on each other, and you understood one another in a way that went past words. You didn't need to speak for himbto know what you thought. It was seamless. You and him had gone through hell and back together, so when your connection bloomed into that of something more than friends it was practically nothing but perfection.

It was beyond that. You had glee on your heart each time you saw the indigo of his irises and knowing that someone loved you. It was fulfilling having an anchor that kept you at the bay that had grown so familiar. The joys of not needing to say those three words, and the feeling that everything is going to be fine, as long as you have each other. And you were content. You believed he was too. But, you felt his attention drift. And the acts of affections, the gifts, and touches you attempted to make to maintain what you had, or what was left of it, were fruitless. You wrote endless words of expression, trying to make him see that emotion between you two once more, but nothing would come back. At best, acknowledgement. At worst, ignored. Practically forgotten like you were nothing.

You don't know when it started, or why. You don't why that anchor that had once been the one thing keeping you on your feet was keeping you stuck in place, unable to move on. Even though you two were dating it was like you had never once spoken in your entire lives. You'd say that you still felt that joy when he looked at you, but he doesn't even glance at you anymore. It was like you were erased without an answer. And with desperation you clung. For once you had attained a love you didn't know your body and mind craved and you wanted it back. It made you feel alive in the most cliché sense. So you continued to try, to become more persistent. But it's like he only cared when you did everything, when there was no one else but you to fall back on.

Then it dawned upon you. You had become merely the thing that comes last to everything, the thing he kept around just so he never is fully alone. It all felt so aimless. All you wanted is to see the hue of his eyes again rather than being met with the back of his head, the only sight are his silky straight strands. It was as if his face was obscured. So, you stopped. You stopped being the first to come to him, to display your love - if you can call it that anymore - first. To be there. And you waited. You couldn't help waiting internally, for that day he'd come back, the day he'd speak to you, tell you he's sorry and he loves you. And foolishly, you'd forgive him as you've done countless times. But that day never comes.

You fought for what you wanted. You allowed yourself to be pitiful. You let your fingers write him honey sweet words till they began to mean nothing to you, and you had to search for new sentences, new phrases, just so you can be refreshing - less repetitive. But it didn't matter. It did not matter what letters you strung together, how you ordered a sentence, how neatly you tied a gift, how long you spent picking it, how gentle your touch was or even its warmth. Because he didn't love you. And worst of all, he didn't care. He didn't care despite your long history and you were left for nothing.

So, you told yourself you'd get away. Distance yourself. There was nothing for you here, not with him. But it hurt. It hurt not being anything. Because despite how horrible it felt when you had something, at least it existed, at least you can say it's there. But now, nothing was left. Your memories were just that; Memories.

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

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Yandere Malleus??? So many possibilities with the future king

Ok as someone who plays on the en server, I'm going to write for him based on what I know. JP Malleus can stay far far away from me. Let me level my boys in peace.

tw:yandere, Malleus being a gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss/hj

Yandere Malleus Draconia

The Crown Prince of Briar Valley. Seated on his throne of thorns, surveying the land that lies before him. His subjects, taking a knee before him. The back of their heads exposed to him, eyes kept down.

Out of respect? Out of fear?

He's not too sure.

No one tells the truth in his court. Everything's hidden behind a veil of lies, woven with flattery as smooth as silk. They wrap around his eyes, tightening slowly but steadily. Blinding Malleus from the schemes of the court.

He thought that Night Raven College would be different. Life as a student, interacting with others like equals, for once in his life. Unfortunately, his reputation precedes him. The students all duck around him, scuttling away like ants from a fire.

His dorm mates worship him like a god. Malleus' flanked by two guards at all times. Everywhere he goes, people are watching. Flinching when he approaches. They hold him at arms' length,treat him as someone untouchable.

Out of respect? Out of fear?

Again, he does not know. Does it matter? It's a peaceful life. No one bothers him.... no one ever approaches him, for that matter. Malleus tells himself that it's fine. He enjoys the solitude.

That is, until he met you. The prefect of Ramshackle. The student who belongs to nowhere. A fresh face from another world. A brand new page, unsoiled by the norms of Twisted Wonderland. Someone who doesn't know him as Malleus Draconia.

Your eyes met his. You didn't wince at the sight of him. Even going as far as to dub him as "Hornton", you weren't afraid in the slightest. Drawn like a moth to the flame, Malleus finds himself drifting towards you. He finds comfort, in your company.

Child of man, you've bewitched him, have you not? This burn in his chest is unbearable. Tongues of flame searing your image deep into his heart.

You're the only one for him.

Malleus takes it upon himself to keep you protected. You have no need for other influences. The wagging tongues of people may lead you astray. He knows better, having grown up with the dizzying politics of the royal court. You, however... are a mere child of man. He'll take it upon himself to protect you.

Slowly, but surely, you'll start to realise that your friends are a little.. distant. They ignore you in the halls, turning tail whenever they catch a glimpse of you. Even Magicam is silent, no one ever reaching out to you.

No one but Malleus. He seeks your company at odd hours of the night. He stands over your sleeping form, offering a hand to you. It hurts, does it not? He knows how you feel. Take a walk with him, Prefect. His company may not be much, but he'll take away your pain.

Hand in hand, he guides you through the school grounds. It's somehow ethereal, the way something so familiar could look so different bathed in silvery moonlight. With a flick of his wrist, flames of emerald burst into life, swirling around you two. They hang in the air like fireflies, twinkling mischievously at you.

It's nights like this which help make you feel alive again. For those brief moments, your loneliness is banished. All you can feel is the warmth of the flames, and Malleus' fingers intertwined with yours. That's all you need to feel, really.

He’ll keep you by his side.

Out of Respect? Out of Fear?

He doesn’t care which.

Now, Prefect dear. Take his hand, and let him show you a piece of his world.

It'll be all you'll ever know.

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auspicioustidings · 4 months

Text

Firewatch 11

Summary: You just want to sleep, but Price needs you to calm down first.

Words: 2.8k

CW: Kidnapping, light bdsm

When Johnny tried to touch you, you only buried yourself into Simon and glowered at him. He looked wounded, pulling his hand back from where it had been poised to stroke your hair. None of them understood why you were reacting like that. You seemed back to yourself, but then it would stand to reason that you would be most scared of Simon. And yet now you were only too happy to be held by him. Only him.

As far as you were concerned it was a survival tactic. If you were always by Simon, none of them could kill you without going through him. And you weren’t really sure anyone could go through him. He seemed happy enough to play protector, thumb rubbing firm circles into your waist and teeth nibbling at the tip of your ear every so often. You suspected he was probably looking at the others when he did it, gloating. Good.

“You need to eat sweetheart” he purred into your ear.

“Mm, don’t tell me what to do Simon.”

“Bratty even when you’re half dead.”

“Bossy even when I’m being nice.”

He chuckled at that. If he were a better man perhaps he would feel bad that Price, Johnny and Gaz were at the kitchen island looking like grumpy little puppies. As he was not a better man he only shot them a lopsided grin. Why shouldn’t he be happy? You were safe, your temperature was back to normal, you were in his arms and letting his fingers sink into the fat of your waist, letting his teeth lazily graze the skin of your ear. The fear of losing you gave way to how you fit so fucking perfectly against him. He couldn’t help but imagine how else you might fit together, how perfectly warm and wet and tight you’d be around him. Fuck would you let him take you to his bed? He didn't even need to make love to you just yet if you were still stubborn about everything, just hold you, feel your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin proving you were alive.

“Like you nice, should give it to me more often” he said with his hand testing the waters, squeezing the meat of your thigh dangerously close to your ass.

“Don't get used to it, can't imagine it'll be a frequent occurrence.”

You felt the squeeze and your body gave a valiant attempt at arousal, but it was like molasses, sticky and slow moving in your exhaustion. You didn't mind it, if anything it was sort of nice. His chuckle betrayed his own exhaustion a little, the raspiness of it pointing to him having had a very stressful day.

“Then let me enjoy it while it lasts hm? Eat something for me sweetheart.”

Stupid man being stupidly charming. You didn't really feel like eating, you had went past hungry at some point in the cold and now you just wanted to stay cuddled up to someone you were steadfastly believing was safe and go to sleep. He kept jostling you though, a nip to your ear, a squeeze of your thigh or a finger tracing your spine keeping you awake from how it caused little thrills through you.

“You make it.”

“Hm?”

“I'm not eating whatever they made. You make it. Or give me something that's sealed.”

Well that was an alarming thing to hear you mumble softly against him. The smug happiness of having you favour him was rapidly turning into concern. What exactly did you think they were going to do to you? Did you think they would poison you or were you just refusing to eat anything from them out of pettiness?

“Why?”

“I'll make it myself then” you grumbled, pushing away from him even though every fibre of you hated it.

Oh he did not like that if the growl was anything to go by. Simon stood with little warning, an arm banding under your ass to keep you wrapped around him. You tensed, knowing he was going over to the others and not being sure you really wanted to be near them. Price maybe, he had been kind, he was asleep when Johnny and Kyle had been discussing your murder. Second murder you supposed. But you couldn't really be sure he wasn't in on it. Then again you couldn't be sure Simon wasn't, but you didn't have much choice but to believe him.

You were placed lightly on the kitchen island and he took a small step back, forcing you out into the open. You had felt a lot less vulnerable wrapped up in him, face buried in his shoulder. Your skin prickled with the gazes you felt on you.

“I was only gone a few days, what exactly happened in that time that's got you not willing to eat anything they've made?”

“What? That true little bird? You are not starving yourself, you're already in enough trouble for running off like that” Price said, trying to temper himself.

He was off balance with this whole situation. You had seemed on the edge of giving in before he went to sleep (which he now felt incredibly guilty about) and then he wakes up to you gone? And now after letting them rescue you, Simon shows up and you are suddenly only willing to speak to him. You hadn't been refusing to eat before. You had been a brat about it sure, but you hadn't refused.

You looked at Price, not sure how to untangle your feelings towards him. He could not be in on it, surely not. If he had wanted to kill you he could have smothered you while you were in his bed. Johnny spoke and while you didn't mean to, you flinched. Everybody certainly noticed.

“We dinnae ken what's happening in that bonnie– I… baby what's wrong?”

“Back off Johnny.”

“I didnae dae anything!”

While you were glad Simon was telling him off you wished he'd just let you cling to him again. This wasn't a conversation you wanted to have right now, you just wanted to sleep for 16 hours in a warm bed. You'd probably take a warm body in it if it wasn't someone who had openly spoken about killing you.

“Everything seemed fine the other night luv, you were getting along.”

You did glance at Kyle, seeing him look alarmed at how you froze up when he spoke the same way you had for Johnny. He was right, you were getting along. It had been almost peaceful, you had been almost calm. Maybe that had been what they had been waiting for.

“Simon.”

You said his name as a soft plead, hoping you could get out of this conversation. You didn't want to say it out loud. You didn't want to make it real. Because goddamnit you kind of liked them. You liked teasing Johnny when Dosia was horrible to him, you liked watching Kyle cook. It was so stupid of you to fall for it, to find yourself liking them. Please let Price be outside of it, please let him want you alive. Heartbreak twice over was already enough.

There was a stunned sort of silence at your little plea. It wasn't really like you at all, not the you they had been getting to know. These men knew one another well enough that they could each tell that nobody knew what was going on here. This wasn’t you being angry or scared that they were keeping you here. This was something else, and none of them knew why. Price moved into your eye line and you lowered your gaze stubbornly to the ground, but you didn’t seem the same level of upset as you were with Soap or Gaz.

His brow furrowed and he crooked a finger under your chin, making you tilt your head up and look at him. He could feel how agitated Simon had gotten at you saying his name like that, but he also knew that he trusted him with you. He trusted he would make this right. So he stayed where he was, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms to ensure he wouldn’t reach out while Price tried to fix whatever had went so horribly wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“Failed escape attempt, obviously.”

“Try again little bird.”

Oh, he was using that voice again. That one that oozed authority and made you want to push and push and push until he snapped. Only now you didn’t know what that meant. Part of you hoped he would just backhand you, show you his true colours so you could get over whatever this ridiculous feeling was. Another part badly wanted him to take some sort of control, force your racing thoughts to calm. Fuck you were demented.

“You wanted me to stay put, you should have clipped my wings.”

“That what you want?”

Maybe. Maybe you just wanted them to stop fucking toying with you. You were exhausted, fear and misery had drained you and you just wanted to give in, but your already incredibly wounded pride would really rather he made you give in so you could pretend you had fought it.

“Does it matter what I want John?”

He considered you for a while, the world holding its breath in anticipation. You didn’t realise how tense you really were until he moved his hand to the nape of your neck, tugging you off of the counter, fingers and thumb gripping with enough pressure that it loosened you all at once. The others didn’t intervene as he marched you out of the kitchen and into his office, the click of the lock causing a full body shiver. He was behind you and you just let your eyes softly unfocus on the wall as he bent slightly to speak right into your ear.

“I didn’t want to do this right now. You need rest. But you’re too wound up for that aren’t you little bird? Won’t even eat if we can’t get you calmed down.”

His foot slid between yours, pushing gently to get your legs to widen as he pressed on your neck, bending you over the desk. You didn’t have resistance left to give as you settled on your elbows. His hand running down your spine made you sigh.

“This… it doesn’t change anything” you said softly as tugged on your sweatpants, getting access to the bare swell of your ass.

“Course not. Bet’s still on, and I still intend to win.”

–

Gaz couldn’t sleep. He was half tempted to do what Soap had done and sneak into Ghost’s bed for some form of bloody comfort. He hadn’t seen you since Price had taken you into that office, although they all knew exactly what would have happened in there. He knew you were due punishment for running away like that, but it unsettled him that it had happened so soon. You weren’t right yet, you were still… well he didn’t know. That was the problem. Shock he could understand, but he thought they had warmed you up and got you lucid again. And then you had looked at him like you were scared of him. You had never looked at him like that before, not even when you had been spitting mad and screaming at Soap.

He trusted Price, he knew that he’d figure out what was wrong, knew that he’d take care of you in whatever way you needed it. But it didn’t help him sleep. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted you to cosy into him like you had done with Ghost. It drove him wild watching how his fingers had sunk into you, how you had let them. Fuck it was so stupid, Kyle’s fingers had been inside you but he was getting jealous of the intimacy of another mans fingers even touching you.

He was driving himself a little crazy going over your last interaction with him, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. You had been fine, you had even laughed when he had made a cutesy little smiley face on your omelette with ketchup. He wasn’t about to pretend that you were happy being kept by them like this, but he was so sure you had been beginning to settle. Him and Soap were going to wait until Simon was back and then make their case to him and Price that they should talk to you about giving you some freedom. They couldn’t let you just run to the police, but what if they built you your own place? Just like your little cottage. They thought they could make you happy with that for the time being, work on it until maybe you’d like to move somewhere far away with them. Then they could take you out on dates without incriminating themselves. They just needed to convince you that you wanted to go on them. And somehow he had fucked it all up.

The light knock on his door had him out of the bed in record time to answer. He knew how a knock sounded for people, and that was too light to be Ghost or Price (Soap never knocked, fucking git that he was). He should have tried to be more cool and collected but he wrenched open the door and just flustered for a moment at you standing there in pjs. Fuck you were pretty. You looked tired still, but calm, he suspected Price had probably given you what you needed.

“I… um. Can I come in?”

He nodded rapidly and stood aside to let you wander into his room. You seemed maybe a little nervous, but at least not scared of him. He hated that you had been scared of him. He hated not being able to figure out why.

“Are you-”

“I wanted-”

You both paused and there was a moment of each of you trying to get the other to go first until Kyle sighed and very gently moved you to sit on his bed so he could crouch in front of you, taking both your hands in his.

“Are you ok luv?”

“Tired. John gave me the soup you made, it was nice.”

He had fed you after he had rewired your brain with the absolute leathering he had given your ass. You were pretty sure you had cried during, but it was all a little hazy. It was a stupid thing to do, but you found you trusted him. Hard not to when he had climbed into the bath with you, washed your hair and gently dried and moisturised you after without once trying to take advantage.

You had nearly choked spying on him when you were supposed to be undressing for the bath, watching through the crack in the bathroom door to his room as he leaned his forearm heavily against the wall and quickly jacked himself off. Fuck, you knew he had done it because he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be getting hard with you naked in his arms and you had to throw cold water on your face to try and pretend you weren’t flushed with the thought that he wanted you that badly but wouldn’t do anything to you even in your vulnerable state. Made it hard not to trust him really. You had been suddenly glad for how utterly exhausted you were because while your body had made an attempt at getting you aroused it had been overpowered by bone tiredness.

Instead you had let him take care of you and pull you into his arms in bed. And you had finally talked. You told him what you had overheard and he told you that without a shadow of a doubt you had misunderstood. He’d even offered to knock their heads together for even accidentally frightening you like that. And you were so thoroughly out of emotions, so run through with the events of the day, that you couldn’t find it in you to not just believe him. He hadn't stopped you when you had mumbled that you wanted to see Kyle, he had just pressed his lips to your hair and let you go.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“I thought you and Johnny were going to kill me. I overheard you in the kitchen,” you answered, no energy for anything but blunt honesty.

Kyle took a moment to figure out what the fuck you were talking about and then groaned and hid his head in your joined hands.

“Fuck. Oh fuck. I should have thought about how that would sound with you right in the next room, I’m sorry, it wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking, it- well we-”

You squeezed his hands to get him to look at you again.

“S’ok. I’d just like to sleep if that’s ok.”

He wasn’t going to argue with you when you were sat in his bed, when you wanted to share it. So he just smiled and let you crawl under the covers so he could slot in right behind you.

He fit there.

#mhairiwrites #cod au #tf 141 x reader #I am not doing super hot right now and this is very jumbled and a bit nonsensical #but it was this chapter or no chapter at all :')

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gaelmartinewrites · 1 year

Text

the werewolf and you

nsfw, monster,

you didn’t realize you were lost until it was too late. the once familia tress turned into dark and twisted shadows. the moon turned its back on you and offered no guidance.

all you wanted to do was go for a walk in the forest you were raised in. you knew these trees and they you but you were in too deep now. your thoughts clouded your eyes like the clouds about clouded the full moon. you knew not to be in the woods during a full moon. too many dangers in the woods already but even more so when the moon was full but you didn’t expect to get lost.

you took a turn here. took a turn there. left, right through the forest until you were no longer found. it was cold, the ground frozen and your dress too thin for the night ahead. you’d be an icicle when they find you in the morning, if they find you.

there was a clearing ahead of you. a fallen tree with its roots like reaching fingers offered you a place to sit. it wasn’t your nice, warm bed but it was someplace to rest for a moment. there was no point in walking any further. you were only getting loster.

half sleeves covered your arms and no matter hoe much you rubbed your hands against them, you still couldn’t find warmth. you wanted to start a fire but everything was too wet and your fingers were too numb. you though about other ways to warm yourself. like the way you do on cold winter nights alone in your room.

your breath quickened just at the thought. your dead fingers slowly came back to life. you put a finger into your mough to warm it- your tongue twisted and flicked and warmed your hand to life. your heart raced as your hand grazed yout breasts and stomach and as you lifted the hem of your dress. normally you’d tease yourself, take your time before you commited to yourself but you didn’t have the luxary this time. it was life or death, you reminded yourself. this was not for pleasure, it was to keep you warm. to keep you alive.

your fingers were inside you and your tongue pressed against your lips, holding back a moan. you gribbed bark as your fingers moved faster and faster. moans finally escaped your lips and formed clouds above your head. you were so enveloped with yourself you didn’t hear the twigs snapping around you. something testing your reaction but you kept yourself so blissfully unaware.

the warmth from your cunt exploded like a dying sun and wrapped its arms around you. your eyes were closed but you could still see stars and moons that danced around your weightless head. your breath escaped you like a wild storm and it took you awhile to find yourself in the darkness. yours bones came back to life and blood flowed through like a rushing river.

you opened your eyes hoping to find the moon but instead you were found by something else. in front you, blocking the ignorant moon, stood a dark, grey creature. a creatyre of myth. something from stories told you by your older sisters to scare you as a child. a werewolf, with teeth shinging against the light of the full moon, stood before you.

you had no time to react as the beast grabbed you and pulled you closer. one clawed hand wrapped around your wasit and the other reached for your breasts and tore open your dress to expose you to the elements. his touch scorched your skin and you could gather your thoughts, the werewolf was inside you. the moon, no longer hidden behind the clouds, blinded you. your hole stretched and pulsed against the beast’s cock. you wrapped your legs around his waist and steadied yourself on the fallen tree.

the werewolf’s grunts mixed with your moans and filled the air with erotic melodies. you moved your body to the rhythm. you felt your wetness slide down the roundness of your ass and feed the earth below.

the werewolf picked you up off the tree and fucked you in the air. his cock filled your cunt and warmed you to the core. your skin was on fire with passion and lust. the course fur of the werewolf wrapped around your fingers. you looked into the werewolf’s yellow eyes and he looked in yours. you could see the man behind the beast and the beast in control of the man.

the werewolf lifted his head and howled at the moon. he pumped you harder and faster and you howled, too. the werewolf’s cum exploded inside you, you could almost taste it in your mouth. you both continued to howl and after your song, you were spent and so was he.

the werewolf detached himself from you and place you on the ground. your knees buckled beneath you and you fell to your knees. you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t think. your mind was full of dirty and lustful thoughts of the werewolf. if you weren’t so tired you would’ve jumped on the beast again and demanded more but all you could do was close your eyes and fall to your side.

you fell asleep so quickly you didn’t feel the werewolf pick you up again and begin to run. it felt like only a whisper of a moment since you closed your eyes but when you opened them again you found yourself safe in your bed. it could’ve been a dream if it weren’t for you sill ripped dress. your nipples hard at the memories of what happened in the woods.

the sun was slowly rising in the sky nad your family would wake soon. you slipped off your dress and admired your cum stained legs. you wanted to stay that way all day, a naughty secret to keep while you did your chores. your family, assuming your innocent, unaware of the whore you truely are.

you took a wet cloth and cleaned yourself before butting on a new dress. you climbed back into bed, it would still be another two hours before anyone else stirred in the house. the warmth of your bed didn’t come slose to the warmth of the werewolf’s touch. you felt cold, as cold as you were when you were lost in the forest.

your thoughts began to cloud again but then you heard a howl. you smiled and listened to the hopeful song of your midnight lover, a final lullaby as you finally drifted off to sleep.

#this is unedited #and pretty much a first draft #werewolf #monster fucking #monster x human #monster x reader #monster smut #open to thoughts and comments #constructive critism too

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shaisuki · 9 months

Text

"sa—."

"satoru."

his name came in completely from your mouth. the hesitation dying out when you've seen him alive and well. the tears wells up in the corner of your eyes but you kept them at bay. not wanting to show the others your vulnerability and how much you've missed him.

there's a flash of relief then that annoying smirk of him before grabbing you away from the crowd who was anticipating him. they were not that ecstatic to see gojo back. more like watching someone pop out then only to find out what they expect which is true. gojo satoru is alive and coming back stronger more than ever.

he holds you in his arms. hugs you like you were the first breath in spring. his palm behind your head and his face buried in the crook of your neck then the tears came falling down.

he cups your cheeks, seeing your misty eyes and your lips quivering and looking back at those ocean eyes of his. the tears came pouring heavier than ever, blurring your vision.

"i thought i had lost you." his gaze softening at your words. "i'm here." he whispers, part of him glad that you're alive and well and the other is the anger and frustration from being tricked.

you're alive. he chants in his mind. breathing in your scent. hands wandering all over to the expanse of your soft body. he just needed proof he wasn't dreaming. the blues in his eyes dancing while looking at you.

he missed you so much, so much that he can't breath. what would happen to him if you weren't around. you're his pillar. his strength through the bad and the good times. that he can get through anything despite being the strongest. he needs you so much. loves you so much that even words nor his feelings could express his love for you.

pressing his lips into yours and warmth spreads all over to his body. a sweet kiss with longing for you. desperation behind those lips of his and when he looks at you.

you're the calm in his storm.

his everything and the world be damned if you weren't by his side.

#꩜ ⋮ shai's thirst/drabbles⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #gojo x chubby reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

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finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

distant promises

summary - Bucky has been on a mission for a long time and you miss him

warnings: insomnia, long-distance relationship, swearing, Christmas sadness (only slightly)

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

word count: 2k

Bucky had been gone for 6 months now.

He was currently on a mission in the French Alps, taking down some military base that had connections to HYDRA. The mission meant a lot to him, not thanks to having been tested on and tortured with over a multitude of years. It had taken him a while to be comfortable with who he was and rid himself of the Winter Soldier. You could see him coming accepting himself for who he truly was more each day. He wasn't afraid of who he was anymore and it was an honour to have helped him through that.

It was currently 1 in the morning and you still had yet to fall asleep. You had been finding it harder and harder to fall asleep as the months went by without Bucky. It certainly didn't help that you were taking extra shifts at Starbucks, in order to pay off some debts you owed to banks and Bucky.

Bucky kept telling you to cut back on the shifts and let him pay off some of your debts you owed him too much already that you couldn’t justify anymore.

So insomnia it was.

You honestly couldn't think of what you'd done to deserve him.

Turning in bed to check your phone, you started scrolling through your Instagram to like photos on your dashboard. There were some pictures of friends who were out clubbing, singing Christmas songs at the top of their lung. There were also some celebrities posting magazine shoots and as always there were the cat accounts that you religiously followed.

You were scrolling and liking for about ten minutes before you had an incoming call from Bucky.

"Hey Buck." You sounded surprised that he'd called you. Normally it was too risky to call since he didn’t want anyone to track his phone and give away his location, but here he was.

"Hi babe." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"What's up?" You asked as you snuggled further under the warmth of your fresh, clean, duvet.

"I saw you were active on Instagram, but I know it’s really early morning where you are so I just wanted to make sure everything is okay?"

Knowing that Bucky kept tabs on what time it was where you were was just one of the small things he did which meant a whole lot more than anything his money could buy you.

"Yeah everything's good.” Buck stayed silent as you answered, knowing there was more to it. “It’s, um, just that I wish you were here with me."

"Oh darling, I miss you so much. I promise you it won't be long before I see you next." Now it was your turn to remain silent. "Y/N? Please don't cry darling."

“Sorry.” You sniffled, getting yourself worked up over something so trivial.

"Hey, no. Don’t apologise. I have to go really soon love, but I'm not going to hang up until I know you're alright."

"No need to worry about me Buck. I'll be alright." You tried to say as happily as possible, but you knew Bucky would catch on that what you were saying was far from the truth.

"Babe, you know I worry about you constantly." He laughed.

“Like literally ALL the time.” You heard Sam shout in the background, making you laugh.

"Is Sam there?" You asked Bucky.

“Yeah. Y’wanna say hi?”

"Mhm."

"Y/N I can’t deal with this emotional softie anymore." Sam said without a hello.

“Emotional softie? Are we sure we’re talking about the same man?” You teased Bucky, knowing that he most likely had you on speaker phone.

“The bionic-dude right?” Sam made himself laugh and you heard a grunt from what sounded like Bucky punching Sam. You rolled your eyes over their stupid playfulness, before Bucky came back to the phone.

"Yeah, that's enough of that.”

“Surprised you two have kept each other alive.” You laughed to Bucky, eyes feeling heavier now that you’d safely heard from him.

“Barely.” You shuffled again in bed. “Okay darling, I have to go now. As much as I don't want to I'm gonna have to love you and leave you. Just promise me you'll try and get some sleep?"

“As long as you promise to come home for Christmas.”

"I promise."

“Then I promise too.”

"I love you." Bucky just kissed the microphone to make it sound like he was really kissing you. You kissed yours back and you both stayed on the phone for another minute as you wrapped up your goodbye, before you attempted some better sleep.

•••••

Needless to say, when you woke up the next morning you felt awful.

There was still no surprise Bucky waking up next to you. There was a lack of smell on his side of the bed where he should be sleeping. There was no mess on his side of the room or whistling from a silly tune he’d make up.

It was going to be another day without him and with only a few days until Christmas, you were starting to lose hope on spending it with him.

Your scheduled alarm went off at 7am for your morning shift. You aspired to open up your own cafe one day and so you wanted to get the knowledge of how business operates and be able to tackle customer experience first hand. That’s why you worked in Starbucks. You were also taking an online degree in finance and business, to help you for when you open your cafe.

You got ready by putting on your black jeans and the Starbucks t-shirt. You threw on your basic vans and grabbed your bag before going out the front door to work. Starbucks was about a 30 minute walk from your shared house. Normally Bucky would drive you, because that's the gentleman he is, but because he hasn't been here you've been walking to work. It’s mostly a pleasant walk, but you hate having so much time to yourself and your thoughts.

Your manager told you that you'd be managing the shop floor today, meaning you had to give all the employees individual jobs, whilst help make the drinks and also be in charge of the tills’ money. It was going to be a stressful, but worth the experience.

Plus, anything to keep your mind off Bucky and how he was doing

It had been about 2 hours into your shift and you'd managed to get through with no complaints, so you’d given yourself a break. You weren’t feeling hungry just yet though, so you just got a cappuccino and went into the back office for your 20 minute break.

Not even 3 minutes into your break one of the employees came in.

"Hi Y/N. Sorry to disturb you but there's a customer out front who wants a manager to complain to."

This was a reason why you didn’t want to be a manager all the time, because you were really bad for getting upset when someone shouted at you.

"Ok. Thanks Nina. I'll be there in 2 seconds." You wiped your hand around your mouth to make sure there's no froth left behind and then went back out front. "Nina, where are they?" You asked her, as you couldn't see anyone obvious who looked like they wanted to complain.

"Umm..." She scanned the room. "Oh, that gentleman sat by the window over there." She pointed to a man who had his hoodie slightly pulled up and was looking out the window.

Walking over, you wiped your clammy hands on your red apron because as much as you put on a brave face sometimes social interactions gave you anxiety. You took a deep breathe before being prepared to get screamed at. Why anyone would want to scream and shout this close to Christmas you didn’t understand. Where was the Christmas joy?

"Hi. I'm Y/N. My colleague said you had a complaint?" You asked politely.

"Yeah I just wanted to complain that this cup of coffee is not nearly as good as the one that my girlfriend makes at home. So, why is that?" He turned around to you and took down the hood from his head and sunglasses off to look directly at you.

You took a step back, reaching for the counter to support yourself from fainting in disbelief.

Bucky was in your Starbucks making a "complaint".

You covered your face with your hands as you sunk down to the floor crying. You were so shocked that he was actually here that you didn't even know how to act. He laughed at as he stood up from his chair and slowly walked over to where you were crouched down on the floor.

You stood up and looked around to see customers and colleagues smiling and Nina was filming the whole thing. "You knew! Oh for fuck sake!" You cry-laughed, as you pointed at Nina.

"Surprise?"

You just shook your head. You could hear Bucky laughing at the whole situation - a laugh that you'd missed more than you'd allowed yourself to believe.

"Do I not get an ecstatic run, jump and a hug from my girlfriend?" Bucky joked, holding his arms wide open for you to be engulfed in.

"You're a knob!" You joked at him, shaking your head because you couldn't get over he was actually in front of you.

"Sam said you'd say that!"

You slapped your hand on your forehead when you actually realised what was going on. "What the actual fuck? You're really here?"

"I'm worried it's taken you this long to realise it, darling!" His arms were still wide open.

You laughed as you ran and jumped into his warm and loving embrace. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, whilst he wrapped his arms firmly around your waist to support you from falling. You started to cry again whilst inhaling his sweet cinnamon scent. He just smelt like home. "I'm going to have go on missions more often if it means I can surprise you like this!" He said, but you were too busy crying over the fact your best friend was back in your arms.

"You're actually here." You whispered into his neck.

"I am, love. I am right here." He whispered back to you, pressing a multitude of kisses to the side of your face. "I'm always going to be here." You didn't care that he was being the stereotypical smushy boyfriend, right now you were just glad you were back with each other.

You let each other go. Bucky wiped your tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie and kissed your forehead.

"I've still got like 2 hours of my shift left." You said, wondering what he's going to do now.

"Yeah, fuck no. I spoke to your manager and she was more than happy for you to go home early. With me, obviously."

"Really?" Your eyes lit up over the thought of spending the rest of the day glued next to him.

"Let's go home and get some well deserved sleep for a change." He took your hand and squeezed it, just once more for reassurance that he was home with you.

#bucky barnes blurbs #bucky barnes fight #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #finelinevogue ficmas 2022 #finelinevogue ficmas #ficmas

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ashdreams2023 · 10 months

Note

hello! I honestly never know where to request cause idk what submission means cause English isn’t my first language and the translation isnt really clear so I’ll just request here I hope u don’t mind<3 anyway I was wondering if you could do a harry j potter x fem!reader smut and I have 2 ideas (all takes place in hbp cause it’s legal to have sex at 16 there I think?$ so 1st one is that soft!harry and reader are dating but haven’t really done anything yet except for dry humping and heated makeouts but they want to go further and harry fingers her for the first time and she’s like afraid to cum cause she’s never done this before and he’s like “it’s okay love, you can let go” and he guides her through this cause he’s kinda more experienced so basically just very fluffy smut or the second one where soft!dom harry and reader are dating and they have sex for the first time only reader is a virgin and she’s very insecure and harry isn’t so she’s like very shy but he assures her like “it’s just me, don’t be embarrassed” and it’s like all loving and fluffy and cute<3 only if you’re comfortable tho! I hope you understood everything (I’m gonna get out of fucking Poland one day and learn English perfectly im telling you) sorry that’s kinda long, anyway, thank you!

I get you lol but for the sake of keeping everything together ima mush them up together 👌

Trust me

Harry James potter x female reader

Warnings: nsfw, first time.

You thought finding out you’re a witch was the craziest thing that could ever happen to you but as years go by, it’s proven to be just the tip of the iceberg.

Just last summer you went on a one on one with death eaters in the ministry of magic and made it out alive.

After that summer came and with it came Harry Potter, who happened to live in the same little town your grandparents lived in.

You spent a lot of time together, he was heartbroken and felt alone, you tried to comfort him and take his mind off things, it took a while but he opened up to you.

One thing lead to another and he kissed you a few weeks after his birthday, fast forward to the end of the summer and things kept getting heated.

You didn’t know if it was because you were both hormonal or was it because he wanted something else to focus on but you knew one thing, you really liked the way he kissed and touched you.

It wasn’t a secret that you two were close either, everyone noticed the way he dozed off looking at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and the hand holding underneath the table, the subtle touches in the halls, a blind person could sense it.

"I thought I was gonna die in there" he kissed you then pushed you on his bed, the dorms were empty and he had the entire space for himself.

"Oh don’t be mean to old sprout, she was just trying to help" you pulled him on top of you and warped your arms around his neck then pulled him down, his lips touched yours in a heated kiss that made your fingertips tingle.

"I was dying out there" he smiled against your lips then dragged his lips to your neck and nippled on your soft skin.

You sighed at the feeling of his lips, his teeth dug into your flesh playfully and his lips sucked on the spot until you let out a desperate moan.

"Merlin you sound brilliant" he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to your chest and catching his breath, his heart raced with anticipation "Can I have you?"

You bit down on your bottom lip, the warmth on your skin was permanent "Yes."

He quickly took off his shirt then helped you with yours, his eyes lingered at your exposed breasts before cursing under his breath and taking the rest of his clothes off.

He’s seen you half naked before but this was different.

The second every article of clothing was on the floor, you latched onto each others bodies, his hands explored every part of exposed skin he could reach, but paid special attention to your breasts, they were just perfect and he was just a guy.

"Are you sure you want this?" You suddenly blurted.

Harry paused and looked down at you "are you uncomfortable with this? Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head then looked away "it’s just…I haven’t done this before and I’m not sure I’m appealing enough to-"

"Are you naked underneath me or not?"

"Yes I am…"

"Do you see me doing this to anyone but you?"

"No but-"

"Shush then, I like you and only you…I’m glad I’m doing this with you, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want too"

You stared up at him with wide eyes, you hadn’t expected this reaction, Harry was the chosen one, many girls swooned over him and thought he was quite cute.

"I want too"

"Then do you trust me?"

"Yes."

His hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing it with his finger and riling you up slowly, your body tensed and begged for more.

His fingers felt like magic.

You moaned and gripped his shoulders tightly, digging your nails into his flesh and marking him.

"H-Harry!"

"Does it feel good?"

That was the most confident you’ve seen him off a broom, Harry was usually awkward and sometimes it was just unbreakable.

"Yeah…" your mouth opened when he pushed his finger in, slowly. You reached your hand and touched his dick, it was hard and he hissed when you touched it.

You were soaking and wanted to go onto the next step already but Harry seemed to enjoy torturing you.

He pushed the second finger in and groaned when you clenched around his fingers, your hips moved up and the filthy moans spread in the dorm room.

Harry licked his lips then licked your nipple, it made you shiver.

His cock twitched in your hand.

"I’m going to" your breath hitched when he pulled his fingers out and climbed completely on top of you and slid himself inside of you.

You throw your head back on his pillow and moaned, his hands held you tight by the hips.

Harry groaned as he moved inside of you, you felt amazing, perfect around him.

"So good…you’re so good" he moaned loudly as he kept pushing.

Your body moved along his, it wasn’t uncomfortable but very strange feeling, something new, you felt so full.

"Are you ok?" He breathed, his face was flushed and his green eyes shine with something almost dark.

"Yes" you replied warping your arms around his neck and kissing him, you felt heat build up inside of you and your legs felt weak, shaking slightly as he pounded inside of you.

"Perfect, bloody hell you’re perfect" Harry mumbled kissing your cheek and the rest of your face with breathless butterfly kisses.

Your body reached it’s limit but you didn’t want to let go yet, what if you ruin it? What if Harry regrets doing it with you because of that?!

Thankfully your boyfriend noticed your panicked expression and pressed his lips to your forehead for reassurance "it’s ok, everything is ok, just let go, you can cum" that’s all it took to loosen up your nerves and release on his dick with a silent scream and arched back.

He held you close as the climax road your body and made sure that every muscle in your body would remember this for a while after.

Harry sighed in relief as he pushed inside you a few more times then pulled out and came on your chest.

He laid next to you and pulled the blanket over you both, his face seemed peaceful and the without the glasses, he looked somewhat different, he didn’t look like his father, he was more mature, his face was sharp but soft around the eyes, he was very handsome.

"Thank you" he said.

"For what?"

"For trusting me"

You smiled softly at him then scooted closer to him, at this moment he wasn’t the wizarding world’s young hero, he was just Harry, your Harry.

"I think…I love you" you said ever so delicately.

A boyish grin spread on his face "Little old me?"

"Oh shut up!"

"No say it again!"

A/N: sorry if there was any misspelling or grammar mistakes, I wrote this in one go, so hopefully it’s good enough!

#imagine #harry james potter #harry potter requests #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter smut #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fandom #harry potter x reader

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saturnville · 24 days

Note

I just got an idea for another part of the letter series: John writes to Amelia that he worries she’s not going to like this version of himself. He’s just filled with a lot of doubt and he understands if she wants to end things where it’s at. Amelia assures John that she’s with him now & forever.

a letter to you, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan warning: implicit discussions about mental health content: in which john writes to amelia about his doubts. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum an: I want all to know that in my mind, amelia and john stay together until they die and she changed her middle name to rose.

John Egan’s mind was under attack. Bullets of doubt and missiles of hopelessness infiltrated the barriers that were once sturdy and stable. Everything came crashing down like the walls of Jericho.

Days felt longer as their time in Germany grew elongated. The nights dragged by and never seemed to end. The only thing that lulled him to sleep were the words of Amelia Mae on the now-wrinkled sheet of paper he kept in the pocket of his coat. It was the blood for his body; the only thing that kept him alive.

He had no issue falling asleep most nights. All other nights, however, his heavy eyes stayed open and refused to close. So, he did what was unusual for him to do--write. He’d sulk off into a corner with one of the oil lamps, pull out a sheet of dingy paper, and write until his hand cramped and his tears signed his signature for him.

My darlin’ Amelia Rose,

I hear we’re gettin’ out of here soon. I surely hope that’s the cause; I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this. The Germans are intense; always on guard and ready to strike at any moment. One wrong move, or even just a wrong breath, lands a man dead. I’ve seen more bodies collapse just tryin’ to survive in the camp than I did in the air.

Stuff like this changes a man, Rose. The guys are convinced I lost it ‘cause repeating old ball games is the only thing the keeps my mind off the horrors of being a damn prisoner. I haven’t eaten a real meal since the day I left you. I haven’t felt the warmth of my own bed and it makes me as cold as I feel at night.

Rose, I don’t know what it’s gonna be like when I come home.

I’ve heard stories of when men make it home to their ladies; not all of them are good. He ends up chasing her away. I don’t want to chase you away, but I don’t want to hurt you either. This version of me is not the one you knew and I don’t know if you’ll love him like you did the other version of me.

I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep through the night. I’m just…here.

And if you don’t want to be with me because of that, I understand. It would hurt, but I would get it. You’re a good woman, Rose and I don’t want to make you feel any sort of pain.

I’ve got to get back to my bunk before someone notices I’m missing, or even worse, the Germans find out I’m awake.

I think about you always and miss you dearly. Write back soon.

With all my love,

Johnny

It took three weeks to receive something back from her. He thought he’d be used to it by now, the waiting game, that is. But at this point, anxiety was his portion and fed him well. The mind games began to get more complex as the voices of uncertainty spurred him on with tricks. What she divorced him? Left him high and dry because he wasn’t the same. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

John huffed as he played with the corners of the most recent (three week old) letter he received. The other man were gathered around the child-like sized tables playing cards, talking, and joking. They were better at making the most of situations than he was. He was good at it for some time, but the repetition grew old, and the song he knew so well became unfamiliar.

A familiar, “Mail, boys!” came ruggedly from the doorway. The men scattered like flies, sorting and sifting through the letters. John’s eyes lit up as he stood to his feet, gratefully taking the letter from the mailman’s hand. He sauntered off to a corner and slid down the wall.

Her handwriting was just as pretty as it always had been. Major John Egan, written in the middle with a red pen. It was his favorite color because it reminded him of her cherry red lip stick that stained his skin whenever she wore it. John tore the top of the envelope and pulled the letter out. His heartrate increased.

Dear John,

I can’t help but say that it pains me to know that you think I’d leave you. Do you remember the vows we took? For better or for worse and in sickness and in health? If I didn’t believe I could stand by those words, I wouldn’t have said them. And, I knew I married a soldier. This comes with the territory.

You’ve seen things I would deem unimaginable. You’ve heard things that would drive me mad. You’ve felt a pain that I couldn’t picture. Do you know how foolish I would be to think you’d come back the same way you left?

When I married you, I married the versions of you that you and I have yet to see.

I am here for you, John Egan. I’m not going anywhere.

The light at the end of the tunnel isn’t clear to you right now, and that’s okay. We’ll work on it when you come home. We are a unit; we move together. So, we’ll get through it. Together.

Get some rest, John. It’s not over for you--your story doesn’t end here.

With everlasting love,

Rose

He wasn’t aware of his tears until they smeared the lipstick stain on the lower corner. John brought the letter to his face, inhaling the scent of her perfume. So sweet. She’d wait for him. She wouldn’t, no she refused to leave him.

How good it felt to be loved by her.

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itwasthereaminuteago · 6 months

Text

|| When You Come Home ||

Frank Castle x female reader

I wrote a lil thing to go with my gorgeous commission by @bunnelbie ! 😍

The sound of an engine pulling up outside has you dropping the knife and vegetables you had been preparing down on the counter. He had sent you a text earlier in the day telling you that he'd be back today and you had been buzzing, almost unable to concentrate on anything other than just waiting for him to walk through that front door.

When he'd left, the first couple of days had been fine. He'd send you updates, just checking in to let you know he was alive. Then it would go quiet for a while and of course during those times your head was full of worry, but then he'd always get in touch again to let you know he was safe.

One time he had called you, late at night just as you were settling down in bed. He had filled your ears with sweet promises of everything he was going to do to you when he came home, and the memory of it now dances just underneath your skin.

You go to the door ripping it open just as he's getting out of his truck, seeing him standing there with his bag slung over one shoulder. Then you're running the short distance across the drive barefoot, throwing your arms around him.

"Frankie!"

He grins so wide, dropping the bag and returning your tight hug. You're never letting him leave for so long ever again, you think to yourself. The sound of his chuckle as you frantically pepper kisses all over his face fills you with a syrupy warmth that you've been missing for almost a month. Your Frank is finally back in your arms and you're so grateful.

"Hey you," his grizzled, out-of-use voice meets your ears and only makes you squeeze him more before pulling back and kissing him properly.

"Goddamn baby I've missed you." He lifts you off the ground and you squeal with delight as he spins you around. When he lets you down you don't fail to notice the slight groan he makes.

"You're alright? You're not hurt?" You hurriedly inquire, your hands touching almost every bit of him as you scan for anything more serious than the scrape on his cheek. He looks tired and you're sure you'll find some bruises later on, but other than that you're satisfied that there's nothing concerning.

He starts to walk you backwards into the house. "Nah I'm not hurt, don't you worry. You gonna let me come in huh?" He kids, and you laugh, pulling him inside and closing the door as he puts his bag down on the floor. As he shrugs off his jacket your eyes catch a glint of silver on his wrist. "Oh my god, you're actually wearing it?"

Frank glances at the bracelet around his right wrist, surprised that you thought he wouldn't. "'Course I'm wearin' it, you got me it!"

"I know I- I just thought you might think it was silly."

You had one too, a silver chain with a charm. A heart with a tiny skull etched on it.

Frank steps up closer to you, nudging his nose against yours before kissing the tip of it. "Ain't silly, every time I see it I'm reminded of you, sweetheart. That's all that kept me goin' some days."

He smiles softly as your eyes go Bambi-wide at his admission and you look like you're about to burst into tears but when he strokes his fingers through your hair and thumbs over your cheek it tempers the strength of your emotion. "I love it baby."

He looks over to the countertop distracting you from getting overwhelmed. "You cookin'?"

You nod. "Yeah, just making some dinner. Wasn't sure when you'd be back exactly or if you'd even be hungry, but I thought I'd get it started anyways."

"Oh yeah I'm hungry alright. Let me wash up real quick and we can finish it together, how 'bout that, hm?"

You grasp at him, scrunching your fingers in his shirt like he's going to disappear again but he just smooches you over and over promising he'll be right back in just a minute. You go back to the chopping board in the meantime and when he returns he slinks his hands around your waist, his chin settled in the crook of your shoulder and neck.

"Oh, is this what you call helping?" You tease, but you're full of love at the easy contact between you. It was like he'd never been gone.

"Mhm," he hums, kissing into your hair again as he continues shadowing you.

You giggle, trying to get stuff done with him hanging on to you, but he does eventually chip in to get everything prepared and in the oven. It was usually Frank who did the cooking when he was home, and he was really damn good at it. He kept you fed in a multitude of ways.

After dinner the washing up is left as tomorrow's problem, because right now you just want to spend quality time with your man. He's back from battles he's not quite ready to share, and even when he is ready to open up about it you doubt you'll get the full story, but that's alright.

Frank sits down on the couch, spreading his legs wide and beckoning you to join him. When you climb right on him making yourself comfortable in your favourite place, on his lap, he quietly chuckles, taking you in his arms.

You kiss him.

Yeah you had kissed earlier but this was different. Now, you knew he was safe, he wasn't going anywhere, you could slow down, revel in the feel of each other, his soft, warm lips on your mouth like you'd always dream of when he was away. Tonight, you wouldn't be alone in your bed, he'd wrap you up in his arms and be yours, and you would be his. But for now the taste of him is your focus, and the light scratch of his day-old stubble against your skin is so welcome as he seeks gentle, tentative permission to deepen the kiss. You open for him, always looking for and finding ways to be closer. As your tongue dances against his, your fingers card through his hair. It's grown out a little and you smile against his teeth when his familiar grunt meets your ears as you give a sharp little tug on it and he bites your bottom lip in flirty retaliation.

His fingers hook around the back of your knee anchoring you to him. As if you're going anywhere. He drinks you in as the sun is setting, calloused fingertips trailing your bare arm and raising goosebumps in their wake as you make out like teenagers behind the bleachers.

"I love you," He says softly after a while when you part to catch a breath, forehead leaning against yours, "so goddamn much, baby."

"I love you too, Frank." You close your eyes, feeling his heartbeat under your fingers and trying to press the words in there, rebrand them deep and fresh.

"Can I take my woman to bed?" He asks you with a sly smile. "Because if I recall a certain conversation correctly, I promised her a whole lot of lovin' when I got home…"

"Mm I haven't forgotten. You've got it coming too y'know, Frankie." You trace your lips along his jaw causing him to let his head fall back and grant you the space to lightly nip and kiss at his neck. An appetizer of what's yet to come. He makes a low sound from deep in his chest and can't wait any longer, scooping you up and carrying you bridal style to the bedroom.

"I'm all yours."

#frank castle fluff #frank castle x female reader #punisher x reader #punisher fluff

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kisakis-boyfriend · 7 months

Text

Kisaki x vampire reader headcannons + scenarios

Pairings: Tetta Kisaki x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, vampire!reader, sub/bottom!Kisaki, consuming blood, period sex, a whole trans Kisaki section

Genre/Format: Smut; Headcannons & scenarios

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

I HC Kisaki as being super sensitive in general, so having a vampire lover who sinks their fangs into his sensitive neck regularly? Their hands roaming his body all the while?

Yeah that's going to result in a lot of moaning and flusteredness on Tetta's part sfgdfjfdjhsg

A human's blood acts as somewhat of an aphrodisiac to vampires. But a vampire can also inject the human with their own sort of aphrodisiac from their bite

Thus resulting in feeding sessions becoming intimate very quickly

Hoisting the human up onto the counter, his legs instinctually parted to allow room for your body as it leaned into his warmth. His dress shirt is unbuttoned halfway, exposing his neck to your lustful gaze. Your hands rest on his waist while your lips meet Kisaki's shoulder, leaving gentle kisses and creeping towards his pulse point

The scent of warm blood rushing through his veins could be described as intoxicating, and the knowledge that you could pierce his delicate skin at any second and drink the very liquid that kept him alive excited both of you greatly, hearts racing in tandem while you hovered not even an inch above Kisaki's skin

The moment sharp fangs punctured Kisaki's neck he released a drawn out moan, his hands grasping your biceps tightly while your fangs secrete a hormone akin to a rapidly working aphrodisiac that seeps into his bloodstream. Within moments of you sucking his delicious blood out through his neck, Kisaki will arch his back. Desperately craving your everything as his nails dig into your skin and leave marks. One of your hands will snake up to his lower back, pulling him towards you impossibly close, while the other will tangle in his hair

Soon after Kisaki will be desperately humping you as best as he can in this configuration, grinding his needy cock/pussy against you while you groan into his neck. Thick, crimson blood filling your mouth and sliding down your throat the entire time

Perhaps you fit the ‘Gentlemanly vampire’ stereotype a tad bit. Seeing as you always thank him for the meal once you've had your fill

Carding your fingers through his hair and kissing him with bloody lips wherever you can reach. Sort of like lipstick kiss marks, just with blood instead

After a feeding session, humans tend to be woozy and fall asleep easily. So of course you swiftly clean Kisaki up, putting a bandaid on the puncture wounds so that they won't leak blood all over everything...

If he still has the energy to do so, you'll run a lovely bath for the two of you. Using his favorite scents to help him relax and lighting a single candle

Doing most of the work as you wash him and then wrap him in a towel after you get out. Usually dressing him in comfy clothes too since he'll be too tired to do much on his own

Vampires have impressive stamina...inhuman amounts, one might say

And your darling human lover enjoys the nights when you just keep fucking him. Railing his holes until he's stupid and brainless

“O-ohhh fuuuuucckk~ M-more...harder– ” Tetta moans, his body partially limp from the past few hours of his holes being abused over and over again. One leg was weakly wrapped around you, the other one resting by your side as your cock wrecked your lover's insides, per his request

Another round of warm cum shooting inside of him and adding to the mess already accumulating within his guts. Blood dripped from several bite marks scattered across his body, unable to bite gently due to your sharp fangs so you simply claimed Tetta as yours by leaving your marks all over

Trans Kisaki section~ 🏳️‍⚧️💛

Period sex. So much period sex

Tetta takes advantage of how much you love period sex sometimes, making you beg to eat out his lil pussy

And you will happily comply, of course~

“Again. You can do better than that, can't you?” Your darling teases as you kneel before him. One foot pushes your chest lightly, just enough pressure to keep you in place so that you can't reach the delectable prize just in front of you

Your mouth waters at the thought of tasting Kisaki in his current state, so you try again, “Fuck... please, my love? My angel, my everything? Please allow me to eat you out– ” A low whine escaped through your lips as you begged, digging your nails into the fabric of your pants as you continued, “You can control my every movement, just...please...I need you to fill my mouth ”

It seemed as though your begging had finally paid off. Kisaki smirked down at you, enjoying how desperate and pathetic someone as powerful as yourself could become. Reduced to just your underwear, on your knees below him, begging so sweetly for a taste of his cunt. Of course he always planned on saying yes eventually, he simply wanted to see how far you'd fall for him

Trans Tetta gets so so wet whenever you feed from him. Squirming helplessly while your bite drives him even crazier for your touch

Begging you to fuck him while you suck him

Again, how could you ever deny your darling the simplest of pleasures? Of course you'll pound his soaked pussy ruthlessly while you devour him, anything for your lover 💛

Fluffy section ✨

If you just so happen to dress in Victorian era clothing, or anything gothic really, Tetta will tease you about being so stereotypical

But really, he loves that you're so unafraid of dressing how you want to even though some people make fun of you in public

Especially enjoys when you dress him up in your wardrobe 👉👈

You're a bit larger than him, so your attire is a little loose or too long sometimes, but he still enjoys trying on your things

And of course you stand him in front of a full-length mirror and compliment the hell out of him 💞

I also HC Kisaki as being really insecure and self-loathing in general, so he needs a partner that will drown him in reassurance and affection frequently

What better way to do so than letting him try on a style that he's interested in and making him understand how amazing he looks in it?

Vampires aren't ice cold to the touch, but when they need to feed again they do run slightly colder than a human does

Tetta already loves cuddling, but he fucking adores it during the few days after a feeding session. Your body is abnormally warm from his blood filling you up. Just radiating heat wherever you go

And Kisaki will make any excuse to nuzzle close to you, craving your warmth and maybe feeling a little possessive...after all, it is his blood that makes you so warm. It is his life essence that keeps you alive just the same

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tetta kisaki #kisaki smut #kisaki x reader #male reader #dom reader #vampire au #vampire reader #headcannons #scenario #sub kisaki #halloween specials 🎃#trans kisaki

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doublekanble · 1 month

Text

dead meat

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 11.1k

Or, the progress of going down and deeper. (please treat this as if theyre a bunch of drafts coupled together (they are) this read so much funnier if you keep in mind the fact alastor have genuine feelings/genuinely cares for you but he’s just batshit insane) its 13min til 2am if theres an error no theres not tw: gorish talks and imagery littered thru specifically 1, 5 and 7. alastor chased you down in 7.

1. Because you listen.

When you finally came back — frayed at the seams, run-through you with a headache and a rock in hand. You looked down, the warm wetness oozing from him and seeping into your pants quickly turn cold. You couldn’t tell what you’re looking at for a minute, adrenaline still running through you and your head ache just a tad. When you finally see the pink bits and the leaking blood, your breath runs ragged and your thought run miles. You try to remember all the warning your mother gave you about getting involved with a man like Alastor, you don’t know how you’ll tell mom she never gave you any advice or warning about this.

“God… Oh my God what did I—What—“

Not a single book warned you about the way you physically feel ill touching a body growing cold. So with guts churning and the prickling on your skins, you scrambled to throw yourself off and backing away from the body on all four. Desperately, you called out to whatever is there and beg in your head to wake you up from this nightmare of a show. And when you hit something distinctly warm and alive from behind, you call out to it, thinking it’s your mother, coming to save you from this, to tell you that it’s alright and that everyone make mistakes and this is nothing more than a bad dream. You’ll wake up from this soon, in your childhood bed, in your childhood room, in your childhood house and you’ll be anywhere else and not here.

But when the warmth embraces you, and you feel a warmer breath by your right ear, pressing a soft smile and a bliss-filled chuckle into it, it hit you that your mother would’ve hated you if she sees this. If she sees him.

“Oh, mon Chéri, I knew you’d have it in you” You hate the way the voice swallowed and a take a breath, as if mesmerized by the sight, like you but so wholly unlike you, it whispered in your ear, “What a show. What a show.”

Your eyes is focused on him, but not on him, not a person. That couldn’t be a person at all. Saliva tasting bitter, the bile rising in your throat hurts as you desperately tries and tear your eyes away from it. But enraptured by the intricacies inside his head, you only do so much before finding yourself looking closer for something you couldn’t understand.

“Don’t worry,” setting his lips on your temple, he sigh into your skin, one hand held onto yours and gently rubbing the red from your fingers onto his, as if helping you clean up, “It’s your first time, everything will be so much better once you’re used to it.”

Your eyes flickered between the thing and whatever of yourself visible to you. It’s all red, so much red. Its head, his head was caved in, you can see the front of his skull, everything else is everywhere. How could this ever get any better if it’s going to be this red? Was it going to be this red every other time too? You can feel your fingers going numb from the grip you have on that rock, you can feel the dent from where it dug into your palm, you can feel clearly the traces of well-kept nails running down your left arm from where he tries to pull you away. And every bit of it is red. And suddenly your clothes and his grip and the night air and your skin felt just a bit too tight, too suffocating. Your brain pulses and compressed against your skull. It hurts to think, it hurts way much more to speak.

“I—I don’t want to – I can’t-“

“I thought I couldn’t too, until I did it again, and then again. And then I realized that this,” raising the hand he held onto so kindly, almost like guiding your eyes to the sight. While the pain in your stomach is almost unbearable, he couldn’t sound any more ecstatic. “This, is freedom. Our freedom”

You were sure that the freedom that you’ve been yearning for wasn’t supposed to be associate with a corpse. No type of freedom will ever be going to drive someone to cracked open a skull in the middle of the night. There’s nothing but pure malice that will drive someone to bring a rock onto another man’s head and refuses to stop even when his ears bleed and he stop fighting and started begging. Your mother hated Alastor, and she never break his skull open. You hated your mother, and you never break her skull open.

You want to open your mouth and tell him to shut up. You want to say your mother was right, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, no matter how inviting his offer is. You shouldn’t have run off night after night chasing the daylight with him. He is a scoundrel, he is disgusting, he’s the worst type of delusional criminal there is, the most pretentious man in all of Louisiana. But you can’t, because you just maimed a good man and refused to hear his pleas. With nothing left to you, you all but break down into his arms.

“There, there~” he coos into your hair as your wailing get swallowed up by the cold night air, “I’m right here, aren’t I?” if only he’s anywhere else but here with you, mouth spewing reassurances one after the other.

(It’s alright, he’ll take care of it today. It’s ok, he’ll teach you about some other day. From now on, you’re going with him, whether liking it or not.)

2. Because you wouldn’t

“Isn’t he one of those highbrows you like to rub shoulders with?” her tone accusing and upset, you almost choked on your tea when she slapped the papers down in front of your food and walk out the living room. Even though you have an idea about what she talk about – the news came out just in time for it to be covered on the radio first, you still pick it up and scanned your eyes along.

“So I’m supposed to remember every face I came by now?” you glowered to yourself, “How do you know who I’m ‘rubbing shoulders’ with anyway?”

Over the sounds of your heart beating wildly in your ears, over the humming in your head, you hear her mumbled something about “that boy” as she starts to vacuumed the carpet. It’s a ridiculous thought, but for a brief second, you were sure she’s going to ask you about your numb fingers.

‘SON OF FAMOUS MUSICIAN, REPORTED MISSING AFTER NIGHT OUT-’

It’s so odd to you, how much he worth, yet how little people care. Name printed in bold font atop news about the fast declined of the economy and crashing stock markets a full week after he disappeared. He never told you his full name, nor does anyone around him ever make mention of it despite their occasional jeering and jokes. You didn’t bother with it at the time, you two weren’t the most talkative person in the room, let alone together.

Then again, it does make sense. He told you before that he’s not proud of what he came from or what he became, under drowsy lights and forced to sit side-by-side like all the other night. You still can’t drink, he still can’t dance while being miserably drunk, and nobody else wants to babysit a miserable drunk. You don’t get why anyone needs you to look after him, despite being so out of his head, he seems perfectly well with handling himself.

Your lift the tea cup to your dry lips and take a sip, the tea tasted bitter.

A voice loudly called for you, irritation written clear in it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and all but jump to her spot in the small hall, unwilling to let the two talks for more than necessary. Your mother stand with a huff to her posture.

“It’s him again.”

You laugh dryly, “It’s always him, mom.” tugging the receiver from her hand, you bring it up to your ears. The moment you do, a chuckle rang out. You shivers.

“There’s the lad of the hour! Why, I almost thought your mother was trying to stringed me along before shutting the line off again!” the mother in question grunt and grumble about how annoyingly persistent he is, you agree. Last time she did so, the phone kept ringing until she relented. “In any case, I hoped you’re all up and ready today!”

“We have nothing planned today.” Your reply was immediate and flat, hoping he would leave you alone, but Alastor only laughs in an almost affectionate tone.

“And I’m here to changed that!” he exclaimed, you run a hand down your face and try to keep your calm.

“Alastor, John’s missing. This is not the time.” you whispered sharply into the receiver, hoping to whatever’s true he’ll shut his trap for once. You’re not interested in getting caught by the neighbours over the phone of all thing.

“John? Now that sounds familiar…” he pauses, you can almost see the way he turn a brow up and pretends like he’s lost in thought, it’s almost endearing, “Why, isn’t that the lad I named on the radio yesterday?! What a horrible case! Some people are saying he finally throw himself onto a train and-“

“Alastor!” at the sound of your own voice scrapping in your ears, you pauses. You relax your grip and lower your voice, doing your best not to pay attention to the figure peeking out from your kitchen, “Listen, I don’t have the time to play around. Get to the point.”

“Clearly, you’ve the time for nothing, you and your mother…” sighing heavily, he dropped the act. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop kidding. We’ll talk once I get there. Be ready in twenty.”

“Wh— Alastor!“ The phone turn dead in your hand and you’re left standing in the hallway.

You stare at the receiver in shock, then, you grip it. Holding back the urge to break it open over the table it sits on, grinding your teeth, you place the receiver back. You clutched at the end of the table and count to ten, jaws aching and head spinning from anger. Even with your head hanging low, you can hear footsteps falling along the hallway. Your mother red house slippers stand in view from the side, you wondered if you can burn it and buy another pair.

“You’re going out with that creepy radio host again.” she’s standing with her hand crossed and an exasperated look, you just know it.

“Mom, please,” heaving a sigh of your own, you don’t want her to rub it in your face, even if she doesn’t know it, “Alastor’s not creepy. He’s a good man, I promise.” you have to believe he’s a good man, after everything. If you don’t, you’ll lose the rest of your mind. You prayed that she leave you alone, but she kept pressing.

“You keep saying that, but I know he’s nothing but trouble. I mean- look at you!? You looked so exhausted every day. Every time you leave with that scurf, you came back looking more lost than before!”

Turning to her, you have a retort at the tip of your tongue, you always do. But the looks on her face was nowhere near what you thought it was, so you stumbled. For a second, your vision blurs and your head spins. When it cleared up, your eyes met.

“That good for nothing man, dragging you out every night! Have he ever asked what you want before?!”

Standing like a cornered rat, you try to find your voice.

“I-“ you swallowed again, “I don’t mind it, mom. I like going out.”

Have your mother always looked this tired and worn beyond her age? It almost as if she’s been holding the world alone. She said your name, and you feel all lost again. Like a small child with bare knees stripped red and wailing for her to come and save you.

“You don’t even like parties.”

You remember how much she always scolded you when you got yourself into troubles, but your mom always patches you up while she does so. In the time frame before your home became more of a house and your front door is a front door without any sort of implications. And then it hit you just how old mom looked now. She used to be so tall compared to you, but now you’re over her slightly hunching figure, a little bit or a lot, it’s just enough to look down on her. Suddenly, the world feels too constricting and your skin feels too tight.

All this time, she wasn’t angry at all, was she? Your mom haven’t been angry for a long time now. But it doesn’t change you, it doesn’t change anything else. You closed your eyes and push a breath through your nose.

“Maybe I’ve changed, mom,” you walk past her into the living and tug on your overcoat with fingers stained red, fighting against the waver in your voice and hoping she won’t hear it, “maybe you should be happy for me.”

Alastor always take less than twenty to show up, but you didn’t know how long he was watching you for before clearing his throat. You didn’t bother to respond, only lifted your head up to make sure it wasn’t some random prude before shifting aside. He have the decency to stay silent and sit down with you on your front porch, offering a sympathetic smile at your sorry state and gently wiped away your tears with his red handkerchief when you refused to move and take it yourself. It wasn’t the first time you sit out and wait for him on the porch instead of listening to her outburst, but it was the first time you ever cry over it.

You wanted so desperately to turn back and tell her that you haven’t change, that you’re still her little kid. The same one that want to sit out the parties and the smokes and the dancing and the jazz just to spent the days working on something with her nearby, in the kitchen working on something or sleeping in the armchair, always in the old set of red house slippers. You want to show her something you make, only for her to not get a single part about it. You want to fall at her feet and begged her to tell you you’re still the same kid. You want her to go back to closing the front door and locking you away from the world again.

But you’re nothing but a rat, fresh off from a murder. You’d soon throw yourself in front a running train than to ever let mom know her child will ever do anything wrong. So you swallowed everything back, stand up, and walked away from her porch with Alastor hot on your trail, smiling all the while.

(you want to tell her you haven’t changed at all, but you know better than anyone else. you thought you know better.)

3. Loosely, you’ll fall.

The show was an utter bore, you’ve concluded. The allure of watching history made quickly died out when it pertains to dancing, something you’ve been watching people do with much more grace. It might’ve been much more interesting too, if the dull drums in your head invites itself out. But even when you step outside into open air outside the theater, it remains.

“Well, that certainly was… something.” Walking after you in a leisured pace with one hand behind his back, another going back and forth on brushing off his coat or adjusting his glasses, to anyone else, he looked completely normal. But you know him long enough. “I could’ve sworn it’s a musical show.”

Usually, it’s fairly hard to catch Alastor in a flustered state, facial or demeanour wise. You supposed years of practice couldn’t really stamp out personal discomfort. You would’ve felt bad, but you don’t have enough strength to bother.

“There is musical, alright,” you grumbled, a hand to your temple as you walk on without waiting for him, “I’d say it’s too much even.”

Obediently, silently, Alastor traces your footstep as you seethe to yourself. You were supposed to be back in bed and sleep away this headache and your free day at this hour. It’s a shame you just can’t help from talking back to your mom and chased yourself out of the house, onto the street, and right into his games.

You wish you could rub those kissing scenes into his face and mocked his offbeat timid nature and tell him to go shove it. For once, the mere thought of intimacy itself reminds you of that night and forced you to think about how Alastor always stands just a bit too close to you, always just behind you. It takes everything in you to not scratch at your wrist and tears your skin open, so you opted for patience and sympathy, no matter how much the image haunted your eyelids said otherwise.

Before you know it, the voices and the hollers and bumping shoulders traded itself for a single bell chiming, then hushed murmurs and echoing clinks of porcelains and glasses filled the space. You invited yourself to a small spot off in the corner with a lone seat and hunched over with your left hand over your face, while Alastor comes up to the counter. When he came back, he pulls another chair from the table right next to yours and all but covered you from everyone else’s sight. You stare at him in between the webs of your fingers while Alastor rest his chin in his right hand and hums all softly at you.

“You should’ve told me it’s still there, dear. I wouldn’t have bother dragging you out.” His free hand brush against yours in a gesture you can blindly guess as benign and kind. Unlike the Alastor from this morning, unlike him in the theater. Unlike Alastor from the broadcast and unlike the man holding onto you that night. You’ve seen this so many times before in so many people, it’s just make-believe for adults and you’ve already seen this in him. You thought you have, anyway, so you take your hand away from him and look at the approaching waitress. It must’ve been a trick of the light, the way his eyes grows just a bit darker. But you still think hard about what you would’ve said back then.

“I need to get out anyway, better here than there right now.” You would’ve been fine with the idea of going back in, but by the time you do, Alastor was standing in front of you, and you would rather let him think whatever he wants than to pissed him off even further somehow.

“Better with me~” When push comes to shove, he is a bitter man with a silver tongue, you’ve seen him pour drinks onto people and getting away scot-free. It’s always funny to everyone else in the group, until they’re at the direct end of his bitter temper.

Alastor have never even so much as raising his voice at you in anger, but you also thought he would never kill anyone, so you refuse to take any chances. As long as you stay cordial and don’t step past your line, Alastor won’t ever have a reason to. So long as you keep to your leash, he’ll be pleasant and let you go home soon. It leave a nasty taste on your tongue, how you know exactly what to do with him.

“Whatever you say, Alastor.” Gently nursing your headache, you sits a bit straighter. You really couldn’t tell what’s worse, the oddly plastic smell of the café, or the light from the bulbs burning your retinas. “You never told me why we’re out here in the first place.”

Clapping his hand together, he grins. “Oh, yes! Terribly sorry my dear, I figured we shouldn’t talk about it over the party line. Who knows what else is lurking, yeah?” you stay seated despite your instinct telling you to run. You know this was coming anyway, “See, we didn’t get to celebrate the other day. You got so sick, after all-”

He kept on talking, seemingly perfectly fine with you tuning him out. Even if he’s not fine with it, he can’t do anything to stop the almost freakish way statics filled your head and washes your entire body in a cold and numbing wave of sweat, electrics ran through your head while you grips your hair. And it’s almost like he knows what’s going through you, because he wiped away a drop of sweat running from your forehead with a knowing smile.

“Be careful now, if you get sick, I’ll have to take care of you.”

“As if you can take a step into my house.” As if she’s ever going to let him take a single step inside after today. But he kept that irritating look on him, if only the thought of tearing it off his face doesn’t hurt you so badly.

“Who said it’ll be at your house~”

His chuckle right after shuts you up. Right, you forgot. Of course you did. He have a lodge somewhere near a bayou. You weren’t sure whether Alastor meant it as a tease or a threat, you don’t really want to think about it. So you forced a laugh when he grows just a tad silent. Tilting his head, he looked at you with something you couldn’t tell, and like aways, he switch topics without a bat of an eye while you sat there with sweats running down your back in the middle of winter.

You reach for your cup and bring it to your lips without bothering to know what’s in it, trying to follow along while Alastor rattled off a to-do list he made without your consent for today’s hangout. A visit to a confectionary shop, a trip to the tailor, quick stop at a small dinner he discovered recently and, if there’s still time, he can take you to your book shop. As your vision blurred for a second, the bitter taste of coffee hit your tongue, and it took everything in you to bite back a swear and to hold your mask of politeness. Accidentally flitting your eyes up, you catch him smiles. But it isn’t the kind of smile friend gives to one another, it isn’t the type where two people love and care for each other. So you keep your gaze low and keep drinking the coffee he ordered, at least they do a decent enough job at taking your mind off of John.

(somehow, it felt so familiar, it wasn’t until the moment you crawl back into your warm bed after a cold dinner that it hit you. it wasn’t against your ear this time, but it was the same smile. you swallowed the acid in your throat and thought about how many people saw it just before they lay six-feet under.)

4. And when you finally fall,

John wasn’t that much of an asshole, but he lives like he’s the most wretched man in all of Louisiana. A shadow of a person, beyond that of a ghost. Alastor told you that the only reason anyone ever stuck around is because John have more money than anyone could ever understand, and as long as you can withstand the awkward silent and the sneers, you can count your worries for the night’s drinks goodbye.

Coming from a long and well-known line of gifted artist, John was set for life, even with his less-than-responsible lifestyle. His great grandfather wrote plays, his grandfather paint, his father plays the piano and John drink himself blind. He stop touching anything that even insinuate the idea of creating art on his twenty birthday. Ever since, he wanders the night, going from place to place to emptied his family’s wealth into pretty floozies and drink away his own shame.

With an eerily out of place grin, just close enough to his normal happy demeanour to count, just a bit too wide to be normal, Alastor show you off to John like an exotic pet while his friends already dash off to dance.

“Oh! And how could I forget, this one might not be able to play it, but they have a fantastic taste in music!” then, he turns to you with a friendly hand on your shoulder and a sympathetic look, “If only you ever have the means to pick it up, you’ll be the talk of the town for sure!””

“Surely.” John reply with an odd laugh and look you up and down, suddenly the idea of sitting back with him and watching the others felt just a bit too much for you. But you only brushed their comment off with a wave of your hand. Acting like you didn’t pick up on how John down his drink with just a bit more fervour and Alastor smiles breached the border of normalcy before he pats your back gently, as if encouraging a shy dog to socialize, before inviting himself out and leaving you alone with a man you’re not sure was all there.

You tell yourself you just won’t go with Alastor to his night parties next time, but you pick up the phone every time. And every night you have to sit right by John’s side in complete silent when everyone spreads across the bar.

At first, it was somewhat scary and unpleasant. Then, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Every time you sit right next to him, he would scoff and chuff at you under his breath. Refusing to ever talk or look at you. Unless it was time to leave, John will never do anything more than call for a drink and then sip on it until he needs another one. Every time Alastor came to check up on you, he would smile at you sweetly and make a jab or two at John. You figured by now it’s a show of sort to him, but sometimes you still make a small effort to shut Alastor up and direct him back to whatever he was doing before. It became your new normal for half a year at least.

And then one night, completely worn out and tired with the day and the loud jazz inside a loud room with lousy lights and lousy companion, you stand up without a word to anyone and went out the back door. Outside in the cold air of October, you huddled by a wall inside the back-alley and pulled your knees to your chest. Staring at your hands, you can only sigh and ruffled your hair, digging the palm of your hand into the base of your skulls and wishing you can break it open.

“If you’re so tired, then why not haul yourself back home?”

Jumping up with a yelp, you clutched at your heart, completely missing the door creaking open the first time. You forgot how John even sounded like for a minute, voice low and gruff, completely contrasting everyone else in the group.

“…” halfway peeking through the door and staring impassively, you wondered why he even bother when he seems so done with you. Words right on the tip of your tongue, you him a passing glance, debating whether this worth an excuse out of your pocket. He cut you off before you even begin to open your mouth.

“What? You’re deaf now?” John shouldered the door and step outside fully, standing in front of you.

“…And if I am?” You frown, this feels too much like being scolded. At least his voice is kinder to your ears . “Better off if you are.” He chuckled, “…So?” You would be upset, but you’re too tired and he’s not leaving you alone, so you shrugs your shoulder apathetically.

“Horrible day at work, fight with my mom, then got dragged out here again.”

“Heh, figured.” You glare up at him, he raises his hands up in defence, whiskey with a single ice cube in its glass clinking as he does so, “You seems miserable whenever the lot isn’t around to see.”

You want to spat at him, what would he know about you? But you know he’s right. It really does feel miserable, going all the way out here just to sit and having nothing to do. So you dropped your head into your palm and groan.

“Ugh-…Is it that obvious?”

He cackle, you take it as a yes and sink your head a bit lower at the sound.

“Why not just—not come?” taking a sip from his whiskey, he sat next to you without invitation, “You can just say no to him, y’know.”

“As if I haven’t tried.” You grumbled, but stop when he raised a brow at you, motion for you to keep on. A bit clueless, you shrugs again, “What? You know him for longer than me. You should know that.”

John looks at you as if you’re stupid, and you’re beginning to think you are. Pointing a finger at you, he asked you about your job. Then with a nod, he stated outright.

“But you don’t do anything for him.”

You sputtered, the irony of a drunkard basically calling you useless and being right about it doesn’t escape you at all.

“What does that have to do with anything? He’s a persistent guy, that’s it.”

“That bastard doesn’t bother hanging around anything that isn’t useful. He’s not that type of guy.”

“Then what type of guy is he?” you ask. He looks at you, licked the top row of his teeth, then heave a heavy sigh.

Dowing the rest of his whiskey, John stand up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before slowly taking hold of it and nearly fell over when he pulled you up. He mumbled a half-hearted sorry with a look.

“Not whatever you’re thinking of him, that’s for sure,” he drag you inside by the shoulder, snickering when you try to keep up and failing miserably before slowing down for you, “Now common, I need another drink.”

It’s all John ever told you about Alastor, it’s all you ever need, but you never listen.

John didn’t change fully after that night, but he still change somewhat. The John that was so drained and empty was still there, but he sits up a bit straighter, as if managed to confirmed whatever else he have in his head. For three months, you two never talked about what happened in the back alley, nor do you talk at all. He still down enough drink to kill an elephant and lost his balance to the point someone needs to take him home. But he nodded his head whenever he’s not tipsy enough that the ceiling spins like a globe and you catches eyes, and sitting beside him felt a bit less draining and off-putting.

You told Alastor about it later, the conversation you two have in the back alley, because of course you do, telling everything to your good friend. Alastor would then look over whenever John’s acting friendlier to you, because of course he does, and joked about it. You saved him five years of his life, he laugh. You laugh along because his tone seems just a bit off. You sometimes think about who Alastor is, whenever you have a moment to sit back and contemplates everything between you two. But not for long, because like clockwork, Alastor would pull you away to do whatever he wants for the day, and like always, you would follow along with little to no complains.

Sometime before John went “missing”, you break the thinning layer of ice between you two and tell him out of the blue that you never actually touch an instrument in your life, but you wished you have the chance to. You thought he would’ve laugh at you, but he sat through your recount of younger you being enthralled by a street musician, seeing it as a form of liberty you can only hope to capture through any other art you made. He asked why, you said there was no space in your life for making music. Not then, not now. He asked if it’s ever a regret, you stay silent.

You asked him to play you something, he huff a laugh behind his glass, but shut up when you didn’t laugh along. A false police alarm got the place empty enough for your group early that night, and the owner was desperate enough for extra cash, enough for him to mousey up and play a song you remember by heart. He played really well, you told him. His playing is the bare minimum, it lacks the souls his father have, he sneers at you. He doesn’t need to have a soul in it, just get used to being mediocre while having fun instead, you reply, leaning against the piano and staring at the group chatting away from you two. He didn’t bother with a counter, but he kept playing, this time it’s a melody you’ve never heard before. You saw Alastor turning his head to you two, but you pay him no mind and turn back to John. He looked so calm playing something like this.

John trips over his fingers and curses a lot, you tell him to keep playing. Until the song’s finished and you left standing in silence for just a bit, waiting for the other to say something. Turning the word over in your mouth, you’re a bit speechless, like you’re face-to-face with a kindred soul. But there’s no real comfort in telling a drowning man he can breathe, so you say his melody felt like home.

Worn beyond his age and exhausted in a way that’s so out of place for someone who have the world in his hand, his smile was genuine, facing towards you, like an old friend and a warm meal. The bar dives and the social circles Alastor loved pulling you along have always made you feel so out of place. Their grin’s too perfect and their voices too pleasant, all with an oddly rotten attitude. It’s like watching a picture show, it’s not how people genuinely act, it’s the semblance of one.

Maybe that’s why you and John never got along too well, he was too busy hiding his face behind glasses of gin and whiskeys, you’re too busy hiding in Alastor shadows. But you both never play along, and you both never faced each other fully before that night. You hope John never have that realization, the fact you’ve never faced him at all.

Then before you knew it, his face to the ground, all red, turned from you. That’s all you knew about John Holloway, that’s all he ever get to tells you.

(deep inside, you want to say that it wasn’t your fault. but the difference between getting swept along with life and standing in a back alley with blood on your hands is that somewhere in your empty head, you did register his scream. there’s a reason you can’t see his face and there’s a reason the rock was in your red hand, sitting in your red palm.)

5. so far down, you won’t know the way home

The forest floor was red, by the time you realized it.

It wasn’t by your hand, but it’s enough for you to step back and breathe. It always so odd to you, just how easy it really is to see in the dark, even when the moon hides away behind strips of clouds. In the dark, at the dead of night, your eyes should’ve been blind to the red that’s bleeding all over, but it never does. It took you a second to remember what you’re supposed to be looking at, and you turn the light towards the main figure, standing so proudly in the middle of this. In through nose, out the mouth. Don’t focus on the thing below, look at him and smile. He smiles back, genuine joy stiches itself on every corner of his face. If only this flashlight is weaker.

“Sorry darlin’. This one have more fight in him than I thought he would,” he strides towards you, the familiar metallic stench overwhelms your senses when his red hand came up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “Good thing we got it done before he find his way out, huh?”

Good thing he got it done at all, you thought. You can only bother to hide your exhaustion with a mute nod and a grim grin. Knowing exactly how this will plays out again, you remind yourself to be ready. Alastor laughs and pat your cheek affectionately before pulling you by your hand towards the corpse quickly growing cold amongst the grass. As he does, you try to ignore the echoing in your eardrums.

It was gut wrenching at first. The panting, the gasping, frantic steps that echoes through the empty woods, devoid of bird calls, devoid of life. Just a hound, chasing its prey, and a vulture perched on a tree waiting, watching. The choked exhale when they fall, eventually tired out and tripped over themselves or getting a bullet to the thigh. The way they all looked so confused, then they bargain, then they get mad and calls him every name under the sun before shutting up and look at him in the eye. You weren’t sure just how he looked to them, but perversely, you’re glad you never get to see it.

They scream and yell and beg for someone to please come and save them until they can’t anymore, but it felt like they never stop at all.

“Come here.”

He sits you down by the body, open and ready, still holding onto your wrist while you fight every bone in your body to keep your hand still and keep your foot nailed down. His face, flushed with excitement and sweat running down his forehead as he rattled on about how soon, you’ll have enough guts to do this with him instead of only ever following after and picking up the scraps.

“Remember that feeling? Remember the rush?” lifting your clenching fist up to his lips, he smiles and chases your gaze, you stare back, “Etch it into your brain, don’t ever forget it.”

With that, he plunges your fist into the open cavern of flesh and red and it feels so incredibly blasphemous and wrong. While Alastor knitted his fingers atop yours and guide your hand through the process, you feel your senses grows fuzzy around the edge. Half of you wish that headache didn’t die after the 3rd time, at least then you have something else to focus on other than the sopping wet red mush slipping in and out between your frozen fingers. The idea that someone’s inside would immediately cool off after their death is a farce to you, their warmth still so tangible and so fragile it takes everything in you to stop the burning acid from bursting in your throat. He told you on your fifth time that if you vomit on the body, he’ll have you cleaning it with him, sounding just a tad bit considerate, as if the idea of forcing you into doing something you dislike hurts him.

It's almost too much to think about, how you’re becoming something so different, something that’s just enough to his liking, to the point where all you have left are instincts and the alarms in your head. It felt like years ago when your weekdays are filled with nothing but sitting inside your cozy home and looking out the window, hoping one day you’ll be able to experience that high life and being cared for by someone who love you with everything they have, even if it’s the worst experience of your life. It’s almost like decades ago when your thoughtcrimes are no more than passerby on a long day and your smile is a sham but it’s ok because everyone bought into it and you do too. Now you spent your days looking behind your shoulders for excuses while pinprick runs up your neck, waiting for the day you’ll be buried with the people he hate.

You hope when, not if, you do have to, you’ll manage to come up with an excuse to mom for the body in that alley way. You clenched your fist, only the red squelching and spongy inside of a man you barely know respond.

(the hound stare up at the vulture and leave with a red maw, it watches the vulture from the shadow of the trees. the vulture learned to ignore the hound and feast away at leftovers.)

6. I hope you’ll call out for my name.

Unconsciously, you tap your index finger to a rhythm a man showed you some years ago. One you called beautiful, and one that made him smile. Like always, your weary and sunken eye catches red painting your left hand, but you only sigh and return to penning out your letter. A ringing echoes throughout your bleak and empty house, but no voice call out for you. There’s no point in picking up, you simply let the call die on its own. If it’s him, he’ll crawl his way to the front door with or without that call either way.

When the noise abruptly ended and didn’t pick up again, you put down your pen and hold the letter in hands that never lost its stain. Staring down at the words you’ve painstakingly poured over since her funeral, you crumbled the page and held your head. Over and over again, you write and write, hoping that some way, somehow, something can change.

But like always, nothing is enough, so you throw the paper into the small bin next to your seat, holding back the urge to throw everything else on the table with it too; your mom raise a murderer, not an ill-manner rodent. There’s no longer a point in lamenting things that can never be change in your lifetime. You can do this tomorrow, or the next day, or the day next to that, you’re considering how to go out still. As long as he’s not here, that is. You check the clock, eleven and a half, you have around fifteen minutes before he’s here.

Alastor was always suffocating, you thought, dragging yourself to a wardrobe that haven’t felt familiar for more than half a year now. Nosy and meddlesome, it’s something you picked up on even when you were a doe-eye little rat running across the night without realizing you were walking with a hunting hound, but you always thought it was simply how Alastor cares about people. Your mom was right, you were so naïve about him, thinking he can care for anyone else aside from his mother and himself.

He was always suffocating, but ever since the funeral, he all but latch onto you.

The pure black outfit he gave you was something you would wear to mom’s funeral. But coming from him, it makes you feel like a stranger was staring back from the mirror’s view, out of your own skin. So you boxed it and hid it under the sofa after the whole thing.

And of course, Alastor knows this. So whenever he browse through your wardrobe on his own accord, he would always make sure to make a comment about how these plain and boring clothes never look right on you with a good-nature smile. You no longer have the mind to bother with a reply, so you let him do whatever he wants. As long as he get his digs in, you get your peace of mind. The things in here means the world to you, but what use is there to defend something you’ll soon have no use for.

Clicking your tongue, you pulled out something that looks decent for the street and locked the door to your room. You fixed your clothes until it fits right on you and sat on your bed, wondering if you should just stay inside and make him take some couple extra steps. But decidedly, being in your own room with him will always be so much more unnerving of an experience rather than just letting him shuffling through your stuff on his own. So, the door to your room open with a click, and you step out into long familiar but distant hallways. You wish you can unlearn the concept of loving something that isn’t tangible anymore. It’ll make the hallways a bit brighter.

Like usual, you peek into the empty, almost sterile kitchen and walk up to her armchair. After confirming that you’re alone today also, you found yourself back on the sofa with nothing else to do, simply waiting for Alastor. Checking the time again, it’s exactly mid-day now, so his mother must’ve needed help with something, you’ll have to wait for a bit. Gulping down the uncomfortable heavy weight that settled over your heart since a year and a half ago, refusing to ever die, you lie down and close your eyes.

A year, a half, two week and three days, it’s really a wonder how you work. Maybe that’s what Alastor sees in you, a walking list of contradictions, or maybe this is how everyone works, and you were just cruelly kept out of the loop. Even though you never bother to consider her in your own life, ever since a year and a half ago, you wake up staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes wondering what’s she’s doing every day and why you can’t hear her. Then, remembering that she won’t be doing anything from now on, you get up and make yourself breakfast. Sometimes you would still hear someone calling for you, along with the constant ringing from the phone, but then one day, you forgot how she sounded like, so you starts to ignore the calls.

The day you realized you can no longer hear her voice, calling out to you from the door to your house, you’d tried to trace her footstep by opening her cookbook and making the dish she love. One moment, you were staring down into the pages, the next, you’re seated at the counter, surrounded by Alastor’s companions. You’d call for a whiskey. Everyone find it absolutely hilarious and jokes about your new life while you held the glass in your hand and stare down into the amber-colour liquid. Just as Alastor laugh and reach out for your hand to take it away, talking about how you simply won’t be able to handle the aftermath, you knock your head back and the glass ran clear in one gulp. His friends all cheered for you and shoving another glass into your hand, assuring you’ll get used to this soon, but you don’t know how much you can trust them.

Quite frankly, the whiskey was beyond repulsive. As if you just swallowed flaming charcoal, your throat burns so badly, it’s stopping you from forming a single coherent sentence. You can’t stop yourself from tearing up over it, either, vision blurred and unsteady while a beginning of a headache started creeping up on you, so you down whatever’s in your hand again in the hope of becoming familiar with it fast enough to never have to think twice about it. Before a pretty dame in the group can pass you a third drink, you were hauled up by the shoulder and drag out the door, Alastor hissing a goodbye to the group through his teeth.

Storming off ahead and ranting about how utterly irresponsible you are while you stumbled behind him like a fawn, Alastor would slow down and stare when he can’t hear your soft footstep anymore. You remember walking by a closed tailor shop and flopping yourself down, back against the glass window and weeping without a word. He walked back and sit next to you after a while. You know he’s waiting for you to say something on your own, but you only shrink into yourself. You don’t know what was worse in that moment, the burning in your throat, the head splitting ache slowly brewing or the fact you never know your mother favorite food. How are you supposed to grief someone you don’t know anymore?

In the midst of it all is Alastor, who seemingly lost all of his previous anger. You’ve seen a lot of him over the years, you know he sees all of you. But this is the first time you break down without a word or a reason and you wondered if he feels just as lost and confused as you are. It as if he doesn’t know what to do with you once you actually breaks in a way that doesn’t serve his vision of you, in a way he never have to fix before.

“…Tough day?” with an oddly shy tone, he nudge you from the side, “Didn’t know you’re this much of a sad drunk, honey. Guess I was right to keep you off the bottle after all.” He chuckled, then trail off when you stay silent and stare off into nothing.

It must’ve been no more than ten minutes, but it felt like years before you gave up and open your mouth, voice breaking and quiet. “He made it look so easy.”

“He? Michael?”

He perks up the moment you speak, mouthing off the names of all his associates in hope of finding the one that raises your ire. You would’ve found him endearing if things were different, but you cut him off.

“John,” Then as if it’s not enough, as if Alastor never remembers anyone else, you try to keep your voice even while rubbing your eyes “John Holloway. He made drinking look so easy.” Even without looking, you can see his lips pulled into a taut line.

“Ah, right, John Holloway,” rolling his eyes and shuffling that much closer to you and pulling out his handkerchief, he sneers, holding your wrist still while wiping your face, “No doubt he does. If you didn’t take him out, that chump would’ve drink himself to Hell on his own.”

“At least then he gets to pick his own way out…” You huff.

“It’s been years, honey!” done with cleaning you up, he stuff the handkerchief in his left pocket, “I can’t believe you’re still hung up on him!”

With every word out of his mouth, Alastor’s fake and chipper accent gets just a bit firmer, as if finally knowing what to do. Sitting up straight and pulling his glasses off, he wiped it on his vest and ask dismissively.

“When did he die again? Was it 1928?”

“1929,” you breathe and lean your head against the glass, “Remember that musical you called innovative and new?”

“If only I can forget.” He blanch at the thought of it, you smile wistfully.

“The music was nice, it’ll be nice to watch it again.” From the corner of your eyes, you catches his. You hated how he look so content with this.

“That makes one of us…”

After that, a blanket of silence fell onto you two. With a headache in full swing, you recalled asking whether he ever remembers how they look. Chuckling, he only leans close until your nose almost touch and say that he does. You ask if he’ll ever remember you, he froze and stare into your eyes with an almost incomprehensible look. Standing up, he brushes himself from dust and give you a hand, you take it.

Before you two departed in front of a door that no longer lead to a home, he tells you in an almost too quiet voice that he hope he never have to remember you. You hate his everything in that moment. From how his stands was just a tad bit different from his usual tall and confident poised self to the way he looks so abnormal with the corner of his lips dipped down. You hate how you’ve grown fond of his smile, so you turn and closed the door with a good night.

In the morning, sounding like you just dragged yourself from hell back up, you asked him for a clipped picture from the old newspaper and leave it under your pillow. And ever since, you’ve been rewriting the same letter. To everyone that you ever have a hand on, and to John and your mom. But specifically to John and mom.

John was a good man. It’s a shame he drank too much and care too much in one night. It’s a bigger shame that you can’t keep your thoughtcrime as exactly that, a thoughtcrime. He was right, too. You never knew the man you called Alastor, you don’t think you’ll ever do and you’re happy for it. You only ever find the cowardice to take another man’s life with his help, and you’ll only ever find yourself in more trap than being free from it.

You still bought yarns and cookbooks that you think your mother would’ve love. You come back with enough groceries for two people and the kitchen table are always set for two. You check every day in the kitchen for her still. You still crept up behind the armchair just in case she’s sleeping. Her red slippers still sat patiently just in front of her door. You know she never will be there, but it’s a nice thought. And since mom won’t ever going to be there again, you’ll take a nap. Alastor can have fun dealing with half-asleep you once he’s here.

(you’re woken up by the sounds from your kitchen, the smell familiar. as if finally escaping a bad nightmare, you sprang up on your feet and peek in like a child. Alastor stood at the stove, smiling at you. for the first time in years, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.)

7. we’re going to hell together, after all.

Left, right, right, left.

The silent always puts you on edge, as if there’s something out here, biding for it’s time. If only it’s a beast you can take down with a shotgun. You try to recall the forest trail that you know is somewhere out here as shadows of trees covered you from the moon. But you know Alastor, and you know for a fact that if he wanted to, he could herd you out of New Orleans with just a couple of words and a smile. So you uselessly try to focus past the thundering in your ears, you can’t hear a trace of him anymore. So on the count of three…

Throwing yourself to the right, you almost slammed into a tree as a bullet lodge into the trunk of another just right ahead. A soft chuckle rang out from behind, you kept running. Left hand clutching your right wrist, a sob bubbling up from your aching throat, it’s between running like this and letting the hand ram itself into whatever’s there in the forest. Even if you’re blessed with the chance to get out of this alive, you’ll never have use for your right hand ever again. Bones doesn’t heal right when they sit past five days, but you’re not sure you can even hold a pen with a mangled thumb and a pinkie barely hanging on. You lost a bit of your will at that, but the silence of the woods draws you from your thought. You want to die by your own hands.

Right, left, right.

But you know you won’t be able to. The moment you let him take you here, you already lost. Alastor knows the woods better than you. He knows hunting better than you. And you’re sure he knows he can outrun you at any time. You refuse to dwell on the meaning of it and push your left hand against a tree.

Another shot rang out, this time hurling right by your head and nicked the tip of your right ear and went into the night. You don’t know where it goes, but you staggered just a bit and nearly launch yourself forward when a small bush snatches the end of your clothes.

“Sorry honey!” his voice gets further and further away while he stand still and yell out to you with a casual tone, as casual as he can keep it, “Frayed nerves and all~” he laughs, the rest of his words intelligible, and then suddenly, the forest went silent again. You can’t afford to stop and think anything through, so you push on ahead.

When you’re stuck with only the breaking and crushing of leaves under foot and your own winded breaths filling your ears, you cursed. Your throat starch, your lungs burns. With every step you take, your visions blackened around the edge and breathing alone hurts so horribly. It’s a blessing you even lasted for this long, you never have to chase anyone like he did. You wishes you burn that letter instead of dropping it in the bin, you wish you burn that house down instead of living with a ghost you can’t see. You wish you burn him. You know something was off with him that day, Alastor couldn’t shut up to save his life ever since he gets the key to the house. But he didn’t so much as uttered a word to you while staring down at the cutting board, but you didn’t care enough to ask him. Biting back a curse when a stinging pain shot up from your ankle, you feel your head spin as a short and pained chuckle escape your dry lips, he was thinking about how he wants you dead, surely.

Left, left? Right. L-

You can’t help but cry out the moment the bullet sink into your right upper thigh and sent you down. You crashed sideway onto the forest floor and black out for just half a second when a rock dig into your left temple. Clutching at your thigh with a broken hand, your laugh sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, almost choking as it drags nails and spikes through your throat, like that of an animal, like you’re an animal. The loss of oxygen is getting to you, the irony doesn’t escape you.

While your body winds down and the pain and exhaustion settles in, you go into the most horrible aftermath you’ve ever have to endure. Your head pulsating with every beat of your heart and your limbs grew heavy and cold. Vividly, you pick up on leaves breaking and sticks crushed under heavy footstep and you abandoned all sort of dignity to scrambled and try to drag yourself away from him, fingernails dug into dirt and grass to pull your lead like body away. But another clink, another shot hit your lower torso from behind as your choke scream got swallowed up by the earth, left to clutch at your wounds with face buried into the earth and tears streaming from your eyes.

“Oh honey, why so sad?” a heel sit on your bullet wound, dancing in circle before he slowly press his whole weight onto it. Your suffocating wail isn’t enough to amused him, but he still laugh with such gentleness in his tone. “I thought this is what you want? Weren’t you writing to dear old John about leaving? Well, here it is!”

The relief he granted you last for all but half a second before he bring his foot down. Stinging, numbing pain spread through your entire body and you’re left gasping for air while he held your shoulder and set you to face him. Hunching over your shivering body with a hand on your face, he smiles. Or at least you think he is, there’s not a point trying to make out a single thing over the agonizing pain that’s making a home in your body. You wanted so badly to just black out and die right here, you pretty sure you did black out at some point, but Alastor slap your cheek lightly and calls your name with almost a whine to his tone. The warmth from his hand stand out amongst the incomprehensible burning of your flesh and the blood rushing through your head, why are you here again?

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging like this. You know I hate it when you ignore me.”

You’re not, you want to scream. If there’s anything you can ever say for him to get off of you and leave you alone, you would. You don’t know if it’s the blood lost or the pain getting to you, but your already waning visions of him blurs beyond recognition while he coos at you.

“I guess it really do hurts that badly?” he laughs, “One question solves then!”

At the mention of it, your blood ran cold and the forest felt just a bit more freezing than it already was. Right, he did say something about John, didn’t he? Almost like it was yesterday, when you’re sitting alone in your room at eleven in the morning. Although barely able to remember the exact wording of every letter, you know by heart the concepts and questions in all the letters you’ve written and rephrased a thousand times and over. But the question wasn’t in that one, it was at least several drafts before it, dropped because it was too presumptuous to ask your first and closest victim such a horribly him question. All of it, sitting neatly in the bin right by your writing desk. All of it, he could’ve read in the hours it took you to wake up.

You want to stick to what’s left of you and die raising your head just a bit higher than when you live by not letting him hear a word out of you, either the fact your throat still hurts so badly just swallowing or the fact you know it’s all but useless talking now that’s keeping you. But from the corner of your eye, you saw his right, red hand gripping tightly onto something that you can’t properly make out, and then you remember the reason you never anticipated any of this occurring within your lifetime.

“Th-the letters…” you groaned, “it’s not-you-“

Right, the reason you were caught off guard by him breaking your fingers while pinning you to his car, the reason you couldn’t even begin to make head from tail when he pressed you for the name of whoever it was that makes you do this. The letters that is, for all its intended purposes, your suicide note.

“Yes, yes,” with a draws to his voice, as if he’s tired of this, “Your lovely letters, to dear old ma and John. We both know I read all about them.”

“No-“ you cough, it’s hurts just to breathe, “I wasn’t going to- tell them-“

“Oh, that. I know.”

For just a moment, you’re void of anything. All the pain and the blistering heat and the cold night air leave your body for just a second and left you with nothing at his words. You’re aware of his every movement, even through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, everything is too much, too loud.

“I thought you’re smarter than this, love.” you can’t see him properly at all, but you can’t see him smiling and it scares you, “It never was just about the letters.”

“Then what-“

Shushing you, he leans down until your forehead nearly touched, you try to focus and find his eyes at this awkward angle but it only worsen the unbearable pounding in your head.

“This, is what you want,” he pauses, you can see the outline of his jaw shifting, like rolling words on his tongue. You want to call him a madman, but you don’t even know if this is him anymore. This isn’t the Alastor you know for years. He would’ve never talk to you without that stupid accent that’s everywhere on the radio. The Alastor you know doesn’t need to considers his words talking to anyone, always with an excuse on his sleeve. And that Alastor would never gotten so close, wouldn’t have sounded so personal. “You said you want to leave. To get to that ‘freedom’, right?”

He sounded so hurt, as if it’s him that’s being crushed under weight with bullets in him and two broken fingers, as if it’s not you writhing on the forest floor, as if he’s the one dying tonight.

“You can’t bear to live anymore, right? You can’t do this with me anymore, can you?” you’re painstakingly reminded of the fact he still have his right hand on you, casually moving it down to your neck while he raises his left. You aren’t sure why, but you still try to claw at the hand clasping gently around you. You think this happened before, but you weren’t sure where the idea came from, the loss of oxygen getting to you quicker than you thought it would. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your fingers, two broken and eight dirtied with dirt and your own blood, it lost the red that have been clinging onto you like a disease.

“Al-“ in that moment, your vision suddenly cleared, like a last-ditch attempt at life. The grip he have around you is like that of a snake, too. Coiling gently and kindly, with a thumb digging into your skin while the inners of your ears felt like bursting open.

“It’s alright, mon Chéri, I’ll help you. I always have, haven’t I?” he always have been helping you, but that was Alastor, your friend and the demon on your shoulder. Not the man that’s staring down at you with such a look and speaking to you with such tenderness and love you can’t begin to dissect.

Desperately, you stare up at the image of an unfamiliar man with voices you’ve never heard before. He smiles a smile so painful, as if losing his mind too, but you can’t tell who he is anymore. Your mom was right, John was right, you’re right, but none of it matters when you’re running out of breath and the rock in his left hand fits so well into his palm.

“I’ll come see you when I’m down there, wait for me.”

Your vision bloomed and blurred away. You stay awake for long enough to hear the first crack of skull, reverberating through your eardrums. You’d stay awake for the second hit, and the third. And you stay awake for just long enough to grow envy of John for never having to faced you that night.

(the hound leaps, sharp fangs breaking tough skin and tearing veins, the vulture, without a mind to think of god, only knows how to cries out.)

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