#the two roads go onward
Text
Farmhand
Masterlist
Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader
Summary: When Negan spends a late night out in the barn and doesn't return to his room you go to convince him to turn in for the night, but Negan has other ideas.
Word count: 4K
Warnings: NSFW - Dry humping, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, choking, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, dom negan
A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to finish this but I hope the wait was worth it, this one got pretty dirty but it's cowboy Negan so it just HAD to be. As they say, save a horse ride a cowboy!
The leaves beneath the soles of your boots crunched with every step, the breeze whistling through the trees as you walked through the forest. Negan was right at your side, as per usual, his eyes occasionally glancing towards you and his head lifting in search of any signs of trouble without the obscurity of the brim of his cowboy hat. You'd been on the road for a few weeks now, just the two of you. You'd first bumped into Negan a few months ago when you arrived at a small farm settlement way out in the countryside, the people there having been kind enough to offer you refuge, and you chose to repay their generosity by helping out on the farm wherever you could. That's when you met Negan. He'd already been there a few months when you first arrived it seemed, the people there having gotten pretty comfortable with him and Negan himself having gotten accustomed to his routine. And from the moment you walked through the doors of that barn and saw him hunched over a hay bale, tattoos on his arms and the muscles flexing with every movement, the veins running up the backs of his hands and forearms and his forehead glistening with sweat, you were hooked. He straightened his back with a groan and grasped the fabric at the bottom of his tank top, lifting the hem to drag the material over his forehead and mop up the sweat that had gathered there, the lift of his top revealing the trail of hair starting from his belly button and stopping at the depths of his toned lower abdomen. Your eyes travelled to the dark curls of hair at his chest, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the deep v-lines framing his hips sitting prettily above the waistband of his low waisted jeans.
"Oh, hey." The sound of his voice interrupted the way your eyes were shamelessly roaming over his body, and you subtly cleared your throat.
He let go of his top and ran a hand through his slightly damp, dishevelled hair, slicking it in the process.
"I don't think I've seen your face before, you new here sweetheart?" He asked as he bent down and reached for something off to the side.
When he leant back up he had a beige cowboy hat in his hands which he naturally placed on his head.
"Pretty much just got here last night, feeling real out of my depth." You replied honestly, your uncertainty making him shake his head with a chuckle.
"No need, you'll fit right in. And I'm guessing you're already on the right track if you walked all the way over here to see if you could help these fine folks out."
You nodded, and Negan gestured with his head in the direction of the pile of hay he was handling.
"C'mon then, give me a hand with this."
That was all he had to say, and from that point onwards you seemed attached at the hip. Always trying to be on the same job as the other, always offering to be partnered on a supply run, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you relieved the unspoken tension between the two of you one way or another. Negan's room was only across from yours in the farmhouse so you could hear when he opened and closed the door to his room to settle in for the night, but he hadn't yet. You got up from your bed and peered out the window, the view giving you a nice overlook of the farm. You could see some of the crops that had been planted in a plot of land off to the side and the moderately sized cornfield near the barn, the moonlight from the night sky illuminating the front of the barn enough for you to make out its slightly ajar doors, and a sigh left your lips. Negan. You threw on a denim skirt and slipped on some boots, making your way out of your room and the farmhouse to walk all the way down to the barn, carefully peering into the space in the doors and stepping into it a little. Negan was leaning over the workbench in the far corner tinkering with something. You could barely make him out in the dimness of the barn, small beams of luminescence creeping in through the occasional window. It was as you got closer that you were able to discern the cowboy hat on top of his head. It always suited him.
"Late night?" You said as you stepped into the barn, hay crunching beneath your boots with every step.
Negan lifted his head the moment he heard your voice, his eyes meeting yours. He chuckled and placed the tool he'd been grasping in one hand down on the workbench, straightening his back a little and slightly tilting his hat back to wipe the sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Yeah, something like that."
He gave a long, exhausted sigh that prompted you to make your way over to him until you stood beside him, your eyes curiously glancing over the workbench for a moment. It just looked like scrap, at least to you.
"What you working on?" You asked, making Negan shake his head with a smile.
"Nothing really, just some piece a' shit car part that I thought I might be able to fix up. I'm not really a handyman typa guy, but I thought I'd give it a shot."
You nodded and then took hold of one of Negan's tanned forearms, the feeling of his skin on yours burning you up from the slightest touch, and gently tried to urge him away from what he was messing with.
"C'mon Negan, it's getting late. You can screw around with that tomorrow." You pleaded with him, but he stood firmly in place as a small laugh escaped his lips, his head tilting a little.
"And what are you doing up this late yourself, hm? Cause something tells me that you didn't wake up just to check whether I made it to my room or not, or are you really all that worried about little ol' me?" Negan teased, the deflection of your suggestion making you laugh.
"Okay smartass, I was already awake. I was having trouble sleeping and I gave up, so I thought I'd come see what you were up to."
Negan raised his brows playfully and placed his hand over the back of the one you were using to hold his arm, slightly holding it in his palm.
"Oh, what kinda trouble?"
You knew he was just avoiding facing the possibility of giving up what he was doing and turning in for the night, but the delay was sure as hell gonna work.
"I get dreams about this...guy."
His eyebrows quirked up even more than they had before, the shit-eating grin on his face widening in an instant and his eyes lit up like a kid on christmas morning.
"Really, just some random guy?" He quipped doubtfully.
You scoffed and tried to drop your hand from his forearm, to which you did, but he kept his hand pressed over yours.
"Yeah, a guy, Negan."
You'd piqued his curiosity, and there was something hidden in your words that had his tongue dragging over his bottom lip.
"Well, what happens in these dreams of yours?" He asked seemingly innocent enough, but it was full of ambiguity.
He reached up with his free hand and swept a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes looking you over beneath that beige cowboy hat still sat proudly atop his head, and the silver of his stubble looking as good as ever. Your eyes filled with something inviting, a coy smile on your lips as you tilted your head.
"Why do you wanna know, Negan?"
He shrugged and feigned total ignorance to the exact reason he was so obviously prying, but the grin on his lips gave him away.
"Can I take a wild guess, darlin'?"
Now it was your turn to be intrigued. Your eyes bore into his, his hand still holding yours and your line of sight occasionally getting carried away and landing on his lips before returning to his gaze. You nodded. In a calculated movement Negan gently closed his hand around the top of your throat and guided your lips to his, your lips crashing and allowing you to feel his mouth against yours. You couldn't help but moan into it, eyes fluttering closed as you tasted him. His other hand found its way to your waist to pull you in closer whilst he licked your bottom lip in an attempt to coax your lips apart, and you did. His tongue slipped into your mouth, your tongues entwining for a moment until you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, lips still barely brushing and your breath shaky as you struggled to find air.
"So?" Negan cockily teased as to whether he had nailed the nature of your fantasies yet or not, and while he was well on his way to getting there, he hadn't just yet.
"Not quite there yet, cowboy."
He paused for a moment before he let out a small, throaty chuckle. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your throat and reached down to hoist you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips captured yours once more as he brought you to the workbench and rested you on it, one of his hands sliding up to hold the nape of your neck and deepen the kiss, his groans spilling into your mouth as you tightened the grip of your legs around his hips to bring his clothed bulge against your panties; your skirt having rode up when he lifted you and now bunched at your hips. He broke the kiss and gave a small grunt as you rolled your hips slightly and created some friction, his hand reaching down to rest just above your knee and then slowly glide up your thigh, an idle grip in his hand as he did that caressed your skin as he went. Negan's hand continued even when it reached the denim of where your skirt had gathered, his hand slipping under your skirt and giving the very top of your thigh a squeeze before he moved his attention to your panties. A small gasp escaped your lips as his index finger teasingly traced a line through your clothed slit, the thin cotton damp and clinging to your cunt with how much you'd soaked your panties from the mere feel of his lips on yours.
"Damn baby, you're so fuckin' wet." He whispered gravelly against your lips, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke.
"Please." You practically choked out, your small plea making his lips curve into a dirty smile and move your panties to the side.
"Yes ma'am." He husked.
He dove beneath the fabric at the side of your panties and slid one finger in at first, the sensation making you throw your head back until you were resting against the wall behind the workbench, Negan's hand still holding the nape of your neck. He pumped his finger inside you a few times before adding a second digit, the slight stretch around his fingers making you moan and lift your head to meet his eyes again. He had that damn cowboy hat still sitting on his head as he fucked you with his skilled fingers, moving his fingers in and out of you at a fast, pleasurable pace that you could barely comprehend, your moans gradually sounding more like whimpers. His eyes bore into yours, the glazed-over look of dark lust they were filled with making you spread your legs a little further and angle yourself to get his fingers deeper. He curled them slightly as you did, the immediate unrestrained whine that would follow becoming muffled against his lips as he pressed them to yours, the hand on the back of your neck allowing him to deepen the kiss and his fingertips slipping into your hair to comb through the strands. Every touch left you feeling breathless, every pump of his fingers further clouding your mind until you could no longer care for the dangers of getting attached to someone like this in this ruined world. You had wanted Negan since the moment you saw him, and now you had him if the way his fingers were buried in you was anything to go by.
"Shit, I could listen to those pretty noises all day, sweetheart." Negan whispered against your lips, purposely curling his fingers as he did to draw another sweet moan out of you, and you knew you weren't going to be able to take this any longer if he kept this up.
Unfortunately, Negan seemed to pick up on that too. He removed his fingers from you much to your verbalised dismay, lifting his hand and slipping the two fingers glistening with your wetness into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tattoos on his knuckles and a pleased hum of approval escaping his lips as he tasted you.
"You're as delicious as you look, y'know this farm girl get up is really doing it for me." Negan commented as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth, and you were starting to think that you might have passed out in your bed and this was another one of your dreams after all.
"Oh? I bet I feel as good too." Such crude words sounded so good coming from your mouth, the sudden confidence making his brows perk up in a mix of surprise and twisted curiosity.
"Is that so? Hell, now I gotta know."
He removed his hand from your hair and reached up your skirt to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begin working it down your legs, tossing them aside when he had gotten them off the ankle they'd tried to dangle from. His hands were quick to work at his belt, the metal of his belt buckle clinking slightly once it fell loosely on either side of his fly, to which he was quick to unbutton and undo the zipper on his jeans. Negan was so impatient he didn't even bother to get his pants off, he just worked them down his legs until the denim pooled at his feet, his boxers next to join the pile. Once his top was hurriedly discarded too his hands found their way to the tops of your thighs as he dragged you to the edge of the workbench and stepped into the space between your legs, his eyes locking with yours as he pushed inside you and used the grip on your hips to further guide you onto him. The stretch was incredible, your mouth falling open and a noise you weren't sure you'd ever even heard before spilling from it.
"Is that better, baby?" Negan cooed, your only response being the frantic nod of your head.
His thrusts started off slow giving you time to get used to the feel of him, his breath getting heavier and small grunts forming in his throat with every thrust, and then he reached up in an attempt to remove his cowboy hat.
"Don't you dare." You playfully warned as you snatched his wrist to stop him making Negan chuckle and lower his hand again.
"Alright alright, guess the cowboy hats stayin' on."
You closed your legs around his waist again as he started to move his hips a little faster, locking your legs around his waist and tightening your grip every time he thrust as deep as he could go, the sensation making Negan screw his eyes shut and throw his head back slightly exposing the vein running along the side of his neck and the way his adams apple protruded from his throat. You flattened your palms against the wood as you leaned up and started kissing your way down his throat starting with the underside of his jawline, lightly running your tongue over the lump in his throat once you got to it.
"Fuuuck honey, you're gonna be the damn death of me." He sighed, his head lowering to look into your eyes when you pulled back after placing a kiss above his collarbone.
Dark hair adorned his chest, an intricate skull tattoo situated to one side as his chest rose and fell at a rate almost as fast as yours. You couldn't help but run your hand down his chest, his skin burning red hot against your warm palm.
"Well shit, I'm not as young as I used to be." Negan quipped breathlessly with a small smile as his hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb stroking along your cheek.
Your hand affectionately raised and settled over the back of his, though the intent in your words was not as sweet as your gesture.
"Get on the table then, cowboy."
You barely gave him time to react as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down, flipping as you did so now you were straddling him. He landed on the wooden surface with a small thud, a cocky laugh filling the air as you braced your hands onto his shoulders while he straightened his back, one hand pressing in on your waist and the other on your lower back to help you get comfortable on his lap. You adjusted slightly until you were sitting on your knees, legs resting on either side of him and hovering over his lap. His hands grasped your hips as Negan guided you down onto his cock, the angle allowing him to fill you up much more than before and the feeling of fullness once you fully sank onto him nothing short of pure ecstasy. You clung to him and tried to even out your breath, your eyes locking with his as he reached up and gently took hold of your jaw only to lift his hips a little, a sick smile spreading across his lips as his tongue swept over his bottom lip and a desperate whine came from your lips.
"Go on then my little cowgirl." He drawled, his thumb tracing across your bottom lip.
You started to roll your hips as you lifted yourself up and then sank all the way back down onto him, the sounds the two of you were making and the noise of skin slapping against skin filling the thick air of the barn, only worsening when you found a rhythm that Negan only made that much more euphoric as he lifted his hips in time with you. Negan's hands moved to cup your ass as you started to bounce, the workbench rocking from the force and banging against the wall behind it, his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks.
"God, you feel so fucking good bouncing on my cock." He rasped, the dirtiness of his words only fuelling you that much more as you rode him.
Negan wrapped his hand around your throat as you bounced on top of him, his grip firm as he squeezed just enough to allow the lack of oxygen to bleed into the immeasurable pleasure, the veins in his hands prominent as he lightly choked you. The hand cupping your ass kneaded your cheek before he drew his hand back and delivered a harsh slap to your ass, your skin stinging from the impact and the surprise of it drawing a small squeak out of you. Negan chuckled as you did and slapped the same cheek again a little harder than the first, though this time the noise that came from your lips was more of a depraved cry. He was surely leaving his mark on you, embellishing you with a stark red handprint on your now sore skin.
"Good girl." He crooned.
His praise alone almost sent you over the edge, your legs starting to quiver as he wrapped his arm around you and started to thrust into you relentlessly, pounding you as you hover over his lap.
"Negan, oh fuck." You choked out, your pleasure filled sob muffled when he crashed his lips against yours and continued to fuck into you mercilessly, the arm around your waist keeping you pressed firmly against him.
"That's it, baby, that's it." He whispered throatily between kisses, and that was all you needed.
Your lips parted but no sound came out, just your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, the sensation knocking the strength right out of your legs as your knees buckled leaving you fully sitting on him. Finally, the moan tore from your throat as he gave a few more hard thrusts while you tried to ride out your high, his eyes half-lidded with lust when he slid his hands down to grip your hips and lift you off him so he could spill onto your inner thigh, a guttural groan leaving his lips whilst warm droplets splashed on your skin. Still catching his breath Negan removed the cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair, placing it off to the side so he could lay back onto the workbench, the way you were pressed to his chest bringing you with him. You let your head rest against his chest and could hear the way his heart was racing against your ear, your breathing starting to even out as you briefly closed your eyes and focused on it, his chin resting on top of your head all the while. After a moment you felt his fingers combing through your hair while his other hand moved to rest on the small of your back and draw circles.
"Hey." Negan muttered softly prompting you to look at him.
You lifted your head to comply with his unspoken request, a kittenish smile playing on your lips as you moved slightly further up his body so that your face could hover above his, propping yourself up on your elbows. Some of your hair fell to obscure one side of your face as you did which Negan reached up and tenderly swept behind your ear.
"You are so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, the flattery only making your smile a little wider as you leaned down till your lips were mere inches from his.
"And you are one handsome cowboy." You playfully hummed, barely able to finish what you were saying as Negan pressed his lips against yours, the kiss much slower and fervent than the sloppy and heated ones you'd shared before.
You were just basking in the company of one another. The feel of your body laid on top of his and his skin hot against yours, the feel of his lips moving on yours making your mind even foggier with need for him. You didn't care that someone might wonder why neither of you had made it back to your rooms in the middle of the night, that someone might come to find you both draped over a workbench and tasting one another to your heart's content. All that mattered was that you had each other.
"And that was one hell of a ride, might I add." Negan pulled back to joke, your noses still brushing from the closeness and his crude comment making your laughter come out in the form of a snort.
"Shut up."
And your lips were on his again.
#negan#negan smut#negan smith#negan twd#negan fanfiction#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#twd negan#twd fanfiction#twd fic#the walking dead negan#negan x reader#dead city negan#dead city
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MISSING PERSONS ARTICLE (5/10/ NULL):
An extract from a local article published by The Weekly Hermit on the 5th of October (Year: NULL). Covered by Pixlriffs [Pen Name] –DISAPPEARING ACT, The Bachelor Who Vanished In Thin Air
[MEMORY : 1/2 ]
[MEMORY : 2/2 - HERE]
>[READ ARTICLE?]
They were young and unafraid, Joel [LASTNAME] alongside friend Scar [LASTNAME] would venture on a hiking trip around the mountains only to vanish without a trace.
With the Joel engaged and set to be married to the current head of the Fairy Fort Resort ranger Lizzie [LASTNAME], accounts state that him along with best man Scar were last seen on the 22nd of September in the safety of Hiker’s Checkpoint, a popular camping destination of the Last Life woodlands.
“He said it was supposed to be an ‘act of bravery’. He wanted to prove he was strong to me.” A distraught Lizzie recounts.
“I knew Scar was acting rather off the last few weeks, but I never expected he would just.. Up and run away like this. Especially with someone as inexperienced to hiking as Joel – I didn’t think they would go this far!” witness and former roommate of Scar, Grian, relays to the press.
Further interviews with the witnesses on the day of the disappearance recount in agreeance to meet the two at the Fairy Fort Reserve, a small group had held an early-morning farewell bachelor party at the Hiker’s Checkpoint, where the two would begin their 3-day trip along the marked Mycelium Trail to the wedding venue on the 25th of October.
Joel was last seen wearing a thick brown sheepskin sweater, brown pants, and worn white-and-green running shoes - with his most noticeable feature being green, dyed highlights in his hair. Scar was last seen donning a brown aviator's jacket above a black, multi-purpose utility jacket and white plaid flannel with blue cargo pants - most noticeable feature being the green bandanna found at the checkpoint.
Prior background given by loved ones and witnesses of the party reveal that the wellbeing of Joel, a novice hiker, would still be under the guidance of friend Scar who is reported to have years of experience of hiking both within and beyond the hiking trails of the woodlands.
Reports to the authorities of their disappearance were made just 24-hours past the expected date by the Fairy Fort Reserve and the duo would be officially declared missing on the 28th of September. Several smaller search parties made within the FFR, Lizzie admits, were held prior to making the decision on contact around the reserve and the Hiker’s Checkpoint. A larger, more extensive investigation along the Mycelium Trail was held from the 28th onwards as more people volunteered and potential witnesses were questioned.
The Mycelium Trail is a relatively accessible route for both man and off-road vehicles to traverse between various locations in the Last Life woodlands. While recordings of the weather at this time of year had been colder than usual, there had been no signs of snow, rainfall or forest fires that would hinder the mens’ trip.
A total of 78 individuals have participated in the search for our runaway bachelor and avid adventure-lover with little succession as damp footprints of the missing, Scar’s green bandanna, a set of binoculars belonging to Scar, and two discarded lighters and canteens found within the bounds of the Hiker’s Checkpoint.
Suspect of foul play between the men were brought up in questioning but was avidly rejected by witnesses and investigators for lack of motive even considering Grian’s accounts on Scar’s unusual behavior. Further theories relating to mentions of exploring the nearby Magical Mt were also suspect and a smaller search party made closer to the foot of the mountain was conducted to no avail due to the frigid weather. Urgencies from Lizzie to authorities in further investigation within the mountain were set forth and ultimately rejected due to windy weather and unstable, difficult-to-cross terrain.
As of current release, the status of Joel and Scar remains unknown. For information leading to the safe return of Joel [LASTNAME] and Scar [LASTNAME] please contact [NUMBER REMOVED] at the Fairy Fort Reserve investigation team.
>[ARTICLE ENDS HERE]
#stufffsart#myart#last life apocalypse au#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#gtwscar#smallishbeans#ldshadowlady#[mentioned]#last life#last life smp#life series#life smp#trafficblr
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Icarus {Alastor x Reader} Part 1
Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Sequel
Part 1: The Road Back to You
The town was cloaked in a dimly lit embrace as a young woman emerged from the confines of the jazz club alongside her coworkers. Their rising star, a vision of elegance and charm, illuminated the night with her radiant smile, her presence akin to that of a belle of the ball, her heart as vibrant as the melodies she sang.
As they stepped onto the cobblestone streets, the camaraderie among them blossomed into animated chatter, punctuated by laughter that danced upon the evening breeze.
Tonight was special, a rare occasion when the jazz club closed its doors early to commemorate the birthday of their esteemed boss. The air buzzed with anticipation, the promise of celebration lingering in every corner as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets.
Their songstress was quick as she pulled her purse to her side and started walking away while saying her goodbyes. She had some very important plans with her husband, perhaps she was too excited as she practically skipped her way down the street.
As she traversed the dimly lit street of New Orleans, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of caution that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. The presence of a serial killer, a phantom lurking in the shadows, cast a long shadow over the once-vibrant city.
Each night, as she tuned in to her husband's somber voice on the radio, recounting the grim details of yet another victim claimed by the darkness, she couldn't help but wonder if she, too, danced perilously close to the edge of danger.
The danger that would come and soon claim her own life to their ever-increasing number of victims. But, there would be nothing in the world to stop her from returning to her husband. Her husband said he had something planned for their anniversary and that she would need her best dress.
She was beyond excited.
"(Name)! Sugar, are you sure I can’t give you a lift home?" Rowan's voice called out from the doorway, his Southern drawl carrying the warmth of a bourbon-soaked evening. (Name) turned, her smile as dazzling as a string of pearls, her curls bouncing with the rhythm of a Charleston beat.
"Thank you kindly, Rowan! My husband will be meeting me halfway," She replied, her words dripping with honey. With a graceful wave, she turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels blending with the syncopated melody of the night as she made her way toward the radio station.
The dim glow of the radio station beckoned in the distance, the building was a beacon of safety amidst the dark empty city streets. With each hurried step, (Name)'s heart quickened, the anticipation of her husband's waiting embrace urging her onwards.
As she rounded the corner, her gaze caught sight of the alleyway, a narrow passage veiled in darkness, where the plaintive cries of a woman pierced the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, without a second thought, she veered from her path, drawn by her concern for the unknown woman.
There, amidst the shadows, she found them – a young girl, trembling with fear, and her mother shielding her from a group of thugs that loomed over them.
She should have turned away, and retreated to the safety of the main street, where she could’ve asked for help. Her husband knew his way around self-defense and they would have a phone to call the police.
But (Name) had a terrible feeling in her gut. If she left them now, these women might not be alive when help arrives.
"What do you gents reckon you're up to?" That seemed to get their attention as they turned to face her. As she walked towards the two women, she couldn’t help feeling so small as the men dwarfed her in size.
"Turn back, doll," one of the men jeered, his tone dripping with menace. "We ain't lookin' for trouble."
(Name) positioned herself between the two trembling women and the menacing thugs, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. "Leave these poor dames be! If it's coin you're after, I can see you compensated," Her declaration must have seemed like a bluff. Her voice quivered as she placed one hand on her purse.
The thugs, their laughter echoing in the narrow alley, closed in on her, their intentions clear as the moonlight filtered through the darkness. "This ain't about the scratch, sweetheart," one of them sneered, the glint of malice dancing in his eyes. (Name)'s breath caught in her throat as she took a cautious step back, her resolve tested by the looming threat that surrounded her. "This is about settlin' scores."
"Please, just let them be," (Name) pleaded, but her words fell upon deaf ears, drowned out by their laughter. Their leader pulled out a blade as he approached the crying women.
Before she could react, one of the men seized her arm in a vice-like grip, wrenching her aside with a savage force. "Just watch, my dear," Another man sneered, his voice dripping with malice as (Name) struggled against his hold.
With a surge of adrenaline, (Name) pushed his hand toward her mouth, her teeth sinking into flesh with a ferocity that seemed downright foreign to her. As he howled in agony, she wrenched herself free from his grasp, her heart was beating loudly in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight.
With trembling hands, she lunged toward their assailant, her fingers grappling for purchase upon the blade. The metal bit into her skin, drawing blood, but she was beyond desperate, driven to protect the helpless young women.
“Run!” (Name) shouted as they stared at her like deers in headlights.
Even as she fought with every fiber of her being, the odds stacked against her, (Name) refused to yield. She could feel the sharp sting of pain as the blade cut into her hands, but she pressed on, fueled by sheer determination and the fierce resolve to survive.
Meanwhile, the two women forced themselves to their feet and ran, their cries for help echoing through the alleyway. (Name) couldn’t help but feel a smirk on her lips, before another man pulled her hair back trying to claw her hands away from the blade.
With every ounce of strength she could muster, she battled against the relentless onslaught, her hands slick with sweat and blood as she grappled for control. But in the end, it was a futile struggle, a desperate fight that meant nothing. As the assailant's blade found its mark, plunging deep into her flesh.
As (Name)’s body fell to the ground, there was the sound of fleeing footsteps and gunfire. All she could do was close her eyes and pray the pain went away. All she could do was lay there and feel her blood pool around her as she choked on the blade as her blood suffocated her lungs.
She was so close to seeing her beloved radio host too.
The sound of footsteps running towards her and her name came after. The voice was too distant to hear as she drifted off and prayed she’d see her beloved radio host when she woke up.
💟
As (Name)'s eyes fluttered open, she found herself standing before majestic golden gates, their brilliance illuminating the ethereal surroundings with a celestial glow. A wave of disbelief washed over her as she pushed herself up, half-expecting to feel the sting of pain or the weight of wounds that should have marked her body. But there was nothing – no trace of blood, no lingering ache – only a sense of surreal tranquility that enveloped her being.
Clad in a flowing white dress reminiscent of the ones she wore during her performances at the jazz club, her hair cascading down her back like a river of silk, she realized at the start that this was no hospital. It wasn’t a place that could be built by man and that started to make her panic.
"Where am I?" Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she spoke aloud, her eyes searching the expanse before her. And then, as if in response to her query, an angelic figure with a thick book turned towards her, his presence confirmed her fears. This wasn’t New Orleans.
"You're in heaven! Congratulations, you're a winner!" His words, spoken with pride and joy, hung in the air like a gentle breeze, filling the space with a sense of awe and wonder. But for (Name), the revelation struck like someone poured ice water all over her.
"No. No. No, no, no, no." Her voice cracked as felt her legs turn to jelly. This was not a dream, not a figment of her imagination – she was dead. She died saving those two women on the eve of her anniversary. “I wasn’t supposed to die like this! I have to go back! My husband! Good heavens, I’m not ready to leave him yet…” Her begging seemed to have no effect as the angel got up out of his chair.
(Name)’s tears seemed to touch the man, but it didn’t faze him whatsoever. “This is the end of the road, miss. There’s only joy from here.”
"Please, let me go back!" Her plea, filled with anguish and longing, echoed through the hallowed halls of heaven, a desperate cry for a second chance, for a return to the life she had been torn away from. As she crumpled to the ground, her hands pressed against her tear-streaked face, she grappled with the cruel irony of her fate – a life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
As (Name) crumpled before the gates of Heaven, her sobs seemed to never end. "Please, let me return to my old life," she implored, her voice choking on her despair of dying so easily.
"Shh, my dear," came the gentle reply, a soothing murmur amidst the tumult of her anguish.
"I'm begging you. Let me go back," she persisted, her voice trembling with a fervent plea for a reprieve, for a chance for a rewrite, for her to choose something different.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. This is the end of the road, the culmination of the life you were promised for all the good you've done in this world," the angel explained, his tone tinged with a solemn finality that brooked no argument.
"Let me see my husband! I haven't said goodbye!" (Name)'s words, tinged with desperation, hung in the air like a prayer unanswered, her heart aching for one last embrace, one final moment of solace in the arms of her beloved.
"Again, I'm sorry. But that isn't possible, "The angel replied, his voice tinged with sympathy. "But, may I ask your name?"
"(Name)," she replied, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled herself up off the floor.
"Full name, please," the angel persisted, his gaze unwavering, as he started flipping through the book and sighed at all the names on the page.
"(Name) Winters," she confessed, her last name was a reminder of happier days. The day she joined her husband's family and took on his last name.
With a gentle rustle of pages, the angel consulted the book before him, his expression softening as he found her name inscribed upon its hallowed pages. "There you are, on the list," he confirmed, his voice tinged with reassurance. "Dry your tears, my dear, and come on in."
"But, my husband-" (Name) was quickly interrupted by the angel.
"He might show up in heaven someday," the angel offered, “As long as he doesn’t end up in hell. There’s a chance he might come back.”
As (Name) gazed upon the gates of Heaven, her heart was heavy, wanted to be able to greet him with a smile. “Okay.”
💟
The celestial streets of heaven bustled with the vibrant energy of joyous winners, their laughter and song echoing through the golden expanse. Yet, amidst the revelry, (Name) found herself perched on her rooftop, a quiet observer of the lively scene below. Today, the usual melodies and dance numbers failed to lift her spirits.
As she leaned over the balcony, the celestial breeze playing with her hair, (Name) contemplated the passage of time, and how meaningless it truly was. There was no sense of actual time in this place. She would’ve been here for a week or twenty years.
How long had she been in this place of eternal bliss? The passing of time seemed to blur into an endless expanse of moments, each one blending seamlessly into the next. Her parents had found their way here, as had her little sister, their laughter and love echoing through the hallowed halls of heaven.
And yet, her brothers remained conspicuously absent, their absence a silent ache that gnawed her. Enough time must have gone by for them to show up. They couldn’t have ended up anywhere else other than in heaven! They were around the same age as her husband and would come up around the same time.
As she leaned over the balcony, the angels below danced and sang of pastries and delights, their voices like honeyed nectar amidst the gentle breeze. But for (Name), their songs felt hollow, their melodies unable to penetrate the veil of sorrow that pulled her under.
Even in her sorrow, there was a little flame of hope that flickered brightly. Perhaps, she thought, a song could indeed work wonders, lifting her from the depths of her melancholy.
As (Name)'s voice trembled with emotion, her words carried her pain along the wind. "I never needed anybody in my life, " As the notes danced upon the wind, images flickered in her mind.
Her husband's brown fluffy hair, tousled by the gentle breeze, his charismatic smile lighting up the streets as they walked arm in arm. How her days were bright and simple back then. With the minor inconveniences and the small pleasures it held.
"I learned the truth too late, " she continued, her voice wavered as the tears threatened to fall. With each verse, the distance between them felt like an impassable chasm, one that would pull her into its lonely depths.
As she pulled herself away from the edge of the balcony, her eyes remained fixed upon the golden gates. How she was starting to despise herself and her self-pity here.
Her words became a lament, a melody of longing and her pain as she wished for her old life back. " I close my eyes but he's still there, " Her voice trembling as the image of her beloved husband materialized before her.
He was bathed in a golden light making him appear as a gift from God himself. She craned her neck up to look at him and there was a surge of hope. (Name) reached out to hold him and cry into his arms. Only to watch him vanish in the wisp of glowing smoke at the smallest touch of her fingertips.
“Even as he fades from view,” Her voice quickly got louder with every passing syllable.
You’re never fully dressed without a smile, my dear. His voice echoed loud and clear in her mind as she forced a smile on her face as the tears forced themselves out. "He will still inspire me, and be a part of everything I do,"
As she pulled herself onto the balcony railing, her wings unfurled and she jumped off the edge. She watched the other winners sing and dance below her as they enjoyed their eternal life. However, (Name) had another plan in mind. She set out for the gates as she stumbled her landing as she arrived.
"Wasting in my lonely tower, awaiting by an open door," she sang, her voice rising like a prayer into the heavens above. And as she reached out towards the gates, her fingers brushed against the gilded bars, and her small flicker of hope died instantly.
There wasn’t anyone at the gates and she was just being delusional. He wasn’t coming up here anymore. That her dear, Al was still back on earth and it was a place (Name) wished he stayed.
"I'll fool myself and he'll walk right in," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tried to maintain some level of internal harmony. Her hands clung to the bars hoping the gates would open and let her out. Just five more minutes on earth and she would gladly join the rest of the winners. “Waiting here for evermore…”
But her solitude was shattered by the harsh voice of an angel, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "You're pathetic," she sneered, her tone dripping with disdain. "If he isn't here by now, he's in hell."
"That was quite uncalled for.” (Name) spat as she walked past her. She could tell this woman had something up her sleeve and she wanted no part of it.
“I call it as I see it,” the woman retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. No, that wasn’t right. This woman was downright looking down at her like she was a piece of garbage.
(Name) scoffed as she tried to keep herself focused on just walking away. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”
“Better than singing her problems,” The woman shot back, her words stabbed daggers into her feet and rooted her in place.
(Name) crossed her arms, she was getting fed up and there wasn’t a point in picking a fight in heaven. “You're quite the piece of work, aren't you? Do you need something?”
The woman’s response was curt. “No.”
“Okay, I'll be on my way then,” (Name) replied, her steps quickening. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the woman’s eyes boring into her back. “What do you want?”
But before she could receive an answer, the woman’s voice taunted her, sending a shiver down her spine. “With that obsession of yours, there’s only one place you’ll end up.”
(Name) wished that her voice didn’t shake and give her away. She didn’t want to kiss her place in heaven goodbye for her stupidity. “What are you saying?”
“You look like you need a purpose.”
“I don't need a purpose,”
The woman laughed as (Name) felt a chill going down her spine. "The rate you’re going, you won’t need one and burn with the rest of the sinners in hell."
"I earned my place here," (Name) countered, her voice trembling, as she tried to keep herself from shaking. She couldn’t ever go to hell and become a fallen angel.
"Keep telling yourself that,"
(Name)'s mind raced with questions, her unease growing with each passing moment. "What are you getting at?" she demanded, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. She wouldn’t ever end up there.
"I'm offering you a deal,"
"I don't want it,"
"Suit yourself, but you'll be back. Come and find me when you've run out of options," With her business done, the woman took to the skies and (Name) shouted for her to wait.
She didn’t mean to yell her question at her. “If that ever happens. What's your name? So, I can find you.”
“Lute.”
💟
Another decade passed in heaven and (Name)’s search for her husband and some clue of his whereabouts were fruitless. Every passing year that she searched a small part of her died, first few years it was her hope and later it was her love. (Name) having to come up empty-handed every single time took its toll.
In the quiet moments of solitude, (Name) grappled with the bitter truth that her love may never return to her side. The echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace seemed like distant memories, fading into the recesses of her mind like whispers carried away by the wind.
In her solitude, came the truths she refused to face. That her soul was becoming consumed by her envy and prayers to see him again. She longed to feel his presence once more, to hear his voice echoing through the golden streets of paradise. There was something about being condemned to paradise without all your loved ones that was driving her insane. When did he become her world? When did she corrupt her pure unconditional love for him? Why was she so hung up on him even now?
Alastor, her dear husband.
Her beloved husband and her world. He would never come, and her prayers wouldn’t be answered. Alastor would forever be beyond her reach and never be someone she could hold again.
Alastor would never come, because he was in hell. As much as she refused to believe it or admit it. Deep down? She knew. Her husband was being tortured in hell for reasons that were foreign to her.
Alastor would never be here. He would never come. (Name) would never hear him play his piano as she sang or snuggle up to him when he read the morning paper. Or touch his hair and wear his glasses.
He was in the worst place now and that was final. The place that tortured those who lived vile lives. A pit with killers, cannibals, terrorists, and abusers.
She wanted nothing more than to forget.
Which lead her here, in front of the Exorcist’s main building with a meeting in place with Lute. She did her homework and quickly learned she was a fearsome fighter. But, more importantly, she was Adam’s right hand.
She did exactly what Lute said she would do. (Name) would come back for that deal. She would screw everything she had ever hoped to do here. As long as Lute would give her a purpose and a method to prevent her from falling to hell.
(Name) was going to take that damn deal.
And so, with a heavy heart and a steely resolve, (Name) made her decision. She would embrace the deal offered by Lute, no matter the cost. She would forsake everything she had ever known, everything she had ever hoped to become, in exchange for a chance at redemption.
Her heart ached as she pushed the doors open and saw Lute and Adam awaiting her. Adam looked bored as she ate his lunch and Lute seemed to have a wicked grin on her face.
"Took you long enough," Lute might have been grinning, but her tone was anything but one of joy. She seemed more annoyed than anything else.
(Name) straightened her posture as she held her hands tightly. “You said you had a deal for me.”
"The deal to prevent you from becoming a loser?" Lute sneered,
"No," (Name) retorted, her gaze narrowing. "Make a deal with me to forget him."
A wicked grin spread across Lute's face, sending shivers down (Name)'s spine. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she declared, her eyes glittering with malevolent intent as she extended her gloved hand toward (Name).
With a deep breath, (Name) reached out and grasped Lute's hand in a firm shake, sealing her fate. There was no turning back now, no retreat from the path she had chosen. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with peril and pain, but she was willing to endure it all if it meant escaping the clutches of damnation.
It was a price she’d pay willingly if she could avoid joining the ranks of the sinners.
"Deal," Her voice was one of determination as her heart wept at her decision.
"Welcome to the exorcists,"
(Name) offered a silent nod of gratitude as she clenched her hands into her dress for something to calm her nerves. She had picked her fate and would find herself in the care of these two sadistic angels. But, she wouldn’t let herself be down on the first step of her journey.
“It’s a pleasure to be here.”
There was no going back now,
No escape that she was willing to take.
The only escape was forsaking her place in heaven.
And she would rather have a permanent death.
This was cross posted on A03!
The song she sings is Evermore from Beauty and the Beast from the live action.
#alastor x reader#Warofheartsseries#radio demon#alastor#alastor the radio demon#hazbin#alastor hazbin hotel#the radio demon#fan fiction
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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader
Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.
Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡
Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.
Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.
Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]
⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.
FIC MASTERLIST
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And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.
You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.
Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.
“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”
You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.
“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”
“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”
“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”
And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”
“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”
He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”
"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."
You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.
"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.
"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”
“… Future child bride.”
“Future enemy of the state.”
“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”
“At least I got a daddy.”
And the squabble just went on and on.
Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.
Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.
But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.
Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.
But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.
“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.
“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”
You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”
“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”
“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”
Your nose scrunches. “Why though?”
“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”
It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.
But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.
“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You laugh, lightly pushing him away.
“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.
“Ionno ‘bout that.”
His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”
You stare a long stare.
I do.
“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”
“What do you want, Miles?”
And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.
"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"
You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.
“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”
You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.
"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"
There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.
But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.
“In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.
“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.
“What do you mean you? You can’t do nothing, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”
Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”
“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“
“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”
Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.
“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”
Normal.
“Us.”
Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.
"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"
You hold onto him a little tighter.
“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”
Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”
“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”
“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”
“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.
“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”
He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.
“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”
That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.
“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”
He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.
“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”
“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”
“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”
And there it goes again. The economy.
And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.
And, admittedly, it was unfair.
“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.
“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”
He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”
“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”
Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”
Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”
He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”
He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”
Your mouth hung open.
“… I never thought of it that way.”
“Mhm.”
“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”
And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”
“.. Elitist?”
“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”
You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.
“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”
He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”
“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.
“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”
And you ponder.
How long would it take before you start hating me?
How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?
How long would it take before you discover the truth?
From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.
“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”
And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.
You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.
“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”
“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”
“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”
And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.
He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.
And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.
“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”
“… I—“
“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”
You laugh at his remark.
“Fine.”
It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.
It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.
After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.
The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.
Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.
It’s unfair.
One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.
You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.
But Miles didn’t have that.
His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.
You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.
One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.
Step. Step. Step.
As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.
A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.
Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.
You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.
I can’t wake up Malachi.
You place your hand over your mouth.
Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.
But you think, and you think.
Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.
And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.
Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.
“… Where have you been?”
You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.
Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.
“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.
“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.
“… Miles Morales?”
Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.
“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”
Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He clears his throat.
“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”
Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.
“Did you know about that too?”
“... What are you insinuating?”
Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.
“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now
Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.
He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.
+17479256640 || Just now
This is your nephew, right?
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.
At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.
I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.
That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.
“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”
And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.
“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”
You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
“What the fuck?”
Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.
He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.
His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.
‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’
Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.
He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.
Aaron Davis || Just now
who’s this?
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
“… What’s happened to you?”
It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.
“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”
The sister he grew up with?
Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.
He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.
Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”
“… But if you’d just give me the job—“
“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”
Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.
And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.
You were everything like her.
No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.
Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.
“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.
“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”
The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.
“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”
You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.
“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”
“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.
“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”
It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.
But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.
“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“
“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”
You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.
“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
+17479256640 || Just now
Do you recognize the girl beside him?
You replied || Just now
No.
His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…
He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.
God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?
Ding.
+17479256640 || Just now
Sent an attached file
ＣＬＩＣＫ.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.
“What is it?”
And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.
“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”
And with his jaded breath, he answers.
“.. The Prowler.”
#miles morales#42 miles morales#astv x you#42 miles morales x reader#astv x reader#astv miles#astv x y/n#miles morales x reader#astv#miles morales x you#earth 42 miles morales x female reader#earth 42 miles x you#earth 42 prowler#earth 42 miles fluff#earth 42 miles morales x you#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles 42#prowler miles x reader#prowler miles#prowler x reader#miles morales prowler#atsv prowler#miles morales 1610#miles morales x y/n#astv fanfic#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman astv#Spotify
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Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 7
genre: 2024 and onwards AU, with the 2024 starting grid.
pairing: Romantic!oc x that triangle y’all voted on. Platonic!oc x the whole grid.
warnings: swearing, mentions of physical crimes, discussions about gangs, mentions of bars and alcohol. Besties arguing. talk about the accident in chapter 4.
context: Part 1 and Masterlist…
comments: here’s the Max and Sadie content I promised. I like to reveal details slowly, as you can tell. Also, I’m writing Oscar like he’s a genius because I can see him putting the pieces together before anyone else.
Also, I'm not referring to AlphaTauri as Visa Cash App Racing Bulls or whatever their rumoured name is.
The three time World Driver Champion grumbled as his phone buzzed. He was tired of people texting him. He wanted one day of peace.
Lando: you should have told me
Max: Told you what?
Lando: why sadie disappeared
Max froze and knew his peaceful day was gone. Either Lewis had spilled, which was unlikely, or Lando had found the Australian girl.
Max: Who told you?
Lando: she did
Lando: you should have told me
“Goddamn it, Lando,” he muttered and pulled himself off of his couch.
Max: I take it you found her
Lando: by accident
Lando: but yeah we found her
Max sighed and tapped the call icon. This would go so much faster if he wasn’t wasting time typing.
Lando picked up in two rings.
“Witness fucking protection, Max,” he greeted.
“Is she with you now?” It was the first thing on Max’s mind.
“No.“
He couldn’t see Lando’s face but Max could hear him pacing.
“Lando-“
“Witness protection, Max. Gangs! Attempted assault!” The boy was raging.
But Max picked up the details Sadie had never told him.
“She’s told you more than she did me. What attempted assault?”
Lando didn’t reply as another voice, faint from distance, interrupted them.
“No, I’m not giving you the phone. Go ta- Hey!”
There was a scuffle and Max Fewtrell’s came over the line.
“Max, mate. Can you stop this dumb fuck from doing something stupid?”
“It’s Lando Norris,” the Dutchman commented.
“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.”
There was more background arguments which had Max impatiently tapping his foot.
“Right, I’ve got the phone now,” came Oscar’s accent. “And you’re on speaker. Do you want me to explain?”
Max grunted an affirmative.
“Right. Sadie works a bar at a restaurant about 45 minutes drive from here. Lando and Max went there for dinner because Daniel said it was good and low key. Lando recognised her, she recognised him. She drove him back to my mums house and apparently ‘explained what she could’ on the way.”
Max could hear irritation in the young Australian’s voice and wondered why he was riled up.
“Okay, and now she’s gone again?”
“Yes,” Lando whined.
“And she left without giving you a way to contact her,” the Dutchman guessed.
“Yes,” Lando grumbled.
“Sadie has our numbers,” Oscar added. “Lando’s and mine.”
“She’ll text you if she wants to.” Max tried to reassure.
“Will she?” Oscar asked.
“I don’t know,” the Dutchman admitted.
“She unpredictable,” Lando observed.
“No shit,” came Max Fewtrell’s voice. “She took your fucking car to the leg for you. If anything is unpredictable, that’s it!”
“Right, I’m going. You three can argue amongst yourselves, but trust me on one thing. Don’t chase her. Sadie is scared and she would rather hurt you than risk herself.”
“I don’t believe that,” Lando stated. “She risked herself for me once. She did it without thinking, she-”
“Lando, she was doing her job.” Max cut him off and he flinched at the harshness of his own voice. “I’m going. Don’t do anything stupid.”
And he hung up.
Then pulled up a contact he hadn’t touched since the beginning of November.
She answered faster than Lando had.
“He called you, didn’t he?” Sadie’s voice was a little distant and Max could hear the road noise. He knew her car had bluetooth and wasn’t concerned.
“Yeah,” Max sighed out the confirmation.
“Did you give him my number?”
The distrust stung.
“I swore that I wouldn’t. Kid, I haven’t even given it to Lewis.”
He heard Sadie sigh.
“Just checking,” she grumbled.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” A lie.
“Kid-“
“Max, I’m 21.”
“Don’t care. You keep lying to me and I’m gonna keep calling you kid.”
Kelly walked into the kitchen, still in her pyjamas despite the late morning. She immediately knew who he was talking to. She raised an eyebrow at him and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Max flicked the phone onto speaker.
“I’m fine, dumbass.”
“You’re not.” But he wouldn’t push, he’d learnt not to.
“I will be.” It was always the same answer, again and again.
“Alright well, check in with me like usual okay?”
Sadie muttered a confirmation but Max knew that she was debating a disappearing act.
“Sadie,” -he hoped using her name would connect with her heart, rather than her fear- “just the check in. You know you don’t have to do more.”
“I know that I don’t have to do anything,” she quipped. It wasn’t a snap, she’d never snapped at Max. “But okay, I’ll text you in December.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a good day, Max.”
Max rolled his eyes. Of course she had already worked out the timezones.
“Have a good night, kid.”
To be fair, he had too.
The call disconnected and Kelly placed her hand on Max’s. It was a silent reassurance that Max appreciated.
“Penelope will finish her TV time soon,” Kelly said as she kissed his cheek.
He snaked a hand around his girlfriend’s waist and drew her close.
“We should go out for lunch,” she added.
“Thank you,” Max said into her lips.
It was a grateful sentiment that held far too many layers for his tired mind.
——$——
December landed while Max was battling it out in Qatar. Oscar had taken Saturday's sprint, again, and fought hard during Sunday's race. The Dutchman had defended through the final four laps, fending off both Australians in cars that shouldn’t have been outperforming the Ferrari’s or Mercedes’.
But Oscar had pulled an impressive P2 for a second year in a row, and Daniel had been all smiles as he'd pulled his AlphaTauri into P3.
But as Max hauled himself out of his hotel bed on Monday morning, thoroughly hungover, he found a text from Sadie.
She'd set her own contact name in his phone.
Ego Crusher: All safe and okay here. I know that Qatar was this weekend, saw that you won. Congrats on another win. Congrats to Oscar for beating your slow ass in the sprint. He's good at keeping you on your toes.
Ego Crusher: I didn't tell you until now because I wanted you to focus on Qatar, but the trial started last Wednesday. Should finish Monday my time. I'll let you know what the result is. This is the last four.
Max hissed out a breath, both at his aching skull and her news. He checked his time in Qatar, 9:30am, and did the mental maths for Melbourne time. Sadie would just starting work, 5:30pm, if she had shifts during the trial.
The Crushed: Thanks for letting me know you're okay. I hope the trial is going well.
The Crushed: I know you said you don't want to leave Australia but if any of those dicks are acquitted I'm sending someone to get you.
He left his phone on the kitchen counter, poured himself a glass of water and contemplated his capacity for the energy of Daniel Ricciardo that day.
Max's phone chimed. He cursed at the sound's affect on his headache and flipped it over.
*new message from Ego Crusher*
So Sadie wasn't at work.
Ego Crusher: Yeah, yeah. You said that already. Tell Kelly I say hi and give P a hug for me when you next see her.
The Crushed: Will do.
The Crushed: Update me.
Ego Crusher: Will do :)
Max flicked his phone onto silent, texted an update to Kelly and went to put it back on the countertop. Before he let it go, it vibrated again.
*new message from Oscar Piastri*
He cursed in Dutch.
Oscar Piastri: I know you're in contact with Sadie. She told Lando and I about the trial back in Melbourne. We haven't heard from her and we're worried.
He swore again.
Max Verstappen: She'd kill me if she knew I told you.
Oscar Piastri: You just confirmed it but okay
Max Verstappen: If I said nothing Lando would try to find her again and then we'd all be worried.
Oscar Piastri: You're not wrong
Max Verstappen: She updated me overnight. Trial is still going but so far so good.
Max Verstappen: How long have you known?
Oscar Piastri: Figured it out after you hung up on Lando in Melbourne. You spoke about her like you knew her.
Oscar Piastri: And thank you.
Max finally set the phone down, sighed and cursed, again. His life had never been simple but he didn't know if it had ever been as complicated as it was since Sadie had appeared.
He had siblings. He had Victoria. He had quite a few of them amongst his father's numerous marriages. And he was familiar with the protectiveness that came with being an older brother, and essentially a step-dad.
But he wasn't quite sure how to protect someone who didn't want his protection. Or wasn't actually his sister.
----$----
I did promise some Sadie and Max. I didn't promise it was going to be sunshine and joy though.
@snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl
a few came up with “no blog found” so i hope they worked
#f1#f1 fic#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagine#lando norris#f1 x oc#f1 fanfic#get your shit together#max verstappen#oscar piastri
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Down The Road (F1 x Reader) SMAU Season 1
>> Down The Road 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
➡ Previous Part : Next Part
Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @jpg3 , @tsukishimawhore , @minkyungseokie , @roseseraj , @bbhyuneee , @omgsuperstarg (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )
A/N : I'm trying to write in time for the #QatarGP because I want the storyline in Part 2 to continue in real-time (spoiler alert: from Episode 3 onwards, there will be a one-year time skip). I hope you enjoy the racing and the fic too. If you do, don't forget to like and reblog. It's great encouragement for me, who has been sitting with a sore back at the computer for hours to write this SMAU fic
note ; age-gap, a bit of mentor/student relationship
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Season 1 : ── 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐬 ── (Lewis Hamilton x Reader)
S1 : E02 𝐾-𝑝𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟
Beyond the thrilling competition on the F1 track, the off-track relationships of F1 drivers have also become an exciting topic for fans. That's precisely what's happening with Y/N, a rising star in motorsport, whose relationship with Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time World Champion, is being closely watched. Is it real, or is it just a theory from fans? It's a tough question to answer definitively, as only they can shed light on the situation.
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Source : GQ Sports (On YouTube)
On this episode of "Actually Me" Formula 1 driver Y/N goes undercover on the internet and responds to real comments from fans on Twitter, Instagram, Wikipedia, Reddit, YouTube, and TikTok. How does it feel to be the only woman racing in Formula 1 today? How does she handle the pressure of competing in a male-dominated sport? Which driver is she closest to? And the most pressing question everyone wants to know : What is the true nature of her relationship with Lewis Hamilton? Are they friends, colleagues, competitors, or something more?
For this final question, she simply laughs and replies cryptically, “You guys should ask him (rather than asking me), because I’m curious too.”
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Source : Formula 1: Drive to Survive (On Netflix)
In the show “Formula 1: Drive to Survive” Lewis Hamilton finally opens up about his relationship with Y/N for the first time after it became a hot topic on Twitter world recently. Hamilton said “It’s hard to explain, but we have a very special bond because we’ve known each other for a long time,” He further defined her as the ‘special one’ in his life, yet he still remained enigmatic regarding whether their relationship contains romantic aspect or not.
Additionally, he delves into their personal closeness, mentioning that Y/N is very much a Gen Z personified, enjoying Twitter and often sending funny memes to everyone. He humorously reveals that she sometimes replies to him "OK Boomer," when he doesn't quite grasp the memes she sends.
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Source : Lewis Hamilton's Instagram Story (update)
Lewis Hamilton posted a picture of himself wearing friendship bracelets and tagging @Y/N on Instagram Story before deleting it 11 minutes after
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Source : Twitter (update)
Rumors about a romantic relationship between Y/N and Lewis Hamilton started circulating after a Twitter exchange between the two, leading fans to speculate and gather evidence suggesting they might be dating.
This wave of speculation has received both positive and negative reactions from fans. Some fans disagree with the dating rumors, while others support them. drawing parallels to the F1 version of Tom Holland and Zendaya
While the rumors have been hot topics among F1 fans on Twitter, there has been no confirmation from either Y/N or Hamilton.
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Source : Y/N’s instagram (update)
"Get in, loser We're going to do hotlap"
Y/N posted on Instagram that she will be doing a hot lap for the team's VIP guest in #QatarGP There's speculation that the guest might be a fellow racing driver like Alex, Albon, or George Russell, especially after she previously did a hot lap with Russell without any sign of Lewis Hamilton
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Source : Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)
"Ready to go with the winner @Y/N"
Lewis Hamilton posted on Instagram, confirming that he is the VIP guest who will get a hot lap with Y/N. Followed by a massive response from fellow F1 drivers and fans who are closely watching their relationship.
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Source : Y/N and Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)
Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have arrived at the Lusail International Circuit to prepare for the #QatarGP race tonight. The media has been informed by their respective teams that there will be no interviews or comments regarding the rumors about them. They will solely focus on their performance in this race.
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Source : @PopBase
Reportedly the famous spanish singer Úrsula attended the Formula 1 race at #QatarGP amidst fresh rumors among fans that she might be rekindling her relationship with Y/N. This comes after her recent divorce from the Hollywood actor last month.
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𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙 (in the next chapter)
If you like it, don't forget to like and reblog for me.
Cr.https://x.com/PopBase/status/1708629114025116047?s=20https://twitter.com/GridRivalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b025AznQiGk&ab_channel=GQSportshttps://www.instagram.com/p/CyBimW-Ocyr/
#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 social media au#f1 fanfic#f1 twitter au#smau#f1 smau#down the road fanfic#formula 1#lewis hamilton#famous!reader#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton smau#lewis hamilton social media au#qatar gp 2023#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#f1 x y/n#formula one fanfic#lewis hamilton x y/n
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I See Hell in Your Eyes
Chapter Eight
“I’m so heavy in your arms.”
Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader
Authors Note: Helloooooooo! This has always been the chapter I’ve been wanting to write from the beginning, and I can’t wait to share it with y’all! Please give me your feedback after you’ve read it! I love hearing y’all’s thoughts. Also keep your eyes peeled because there are hints at Sam’s story and Danny’s story towards the end! (Ideally I want all four of them to get their own story in this universe ❤️) Onward!
Word Count: 6,714
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood. This one is SAD y’all so bring the tissues. No smut in this chapter.
The ride to Dimitri’s manor was a quiet one. Josh sat close to you in the back seat, never taking his eyes off the two men up front. One hand was resting on your thigh, the other was holding your other hand in his lap. It didn’t take a Vampire to feel how fast your pulse was racing, or how your anxiety was so high you were completely silent. His thumbs rubbed comforting circles wherever they could reach, trying to calm you down. Despite your hunter’s efforts, your mind would not stop circling the drain with every worst case scenario. You were dead. Truly dead. Josh will be too. Dimitri knows. He knows you committed high treason against your own kind. Monica was right, they’d have you Meet the Sun for this.
You had seen first hand over the decades what Dimitri did to traitors. He wasn’t flashy about it, having an audience was never the point. But he always made sure to hit where hurt the most. Right now? That place was Josh himself, and you knew that Dimitri knew that. You were so fucking stupid, of course he would see through that entire sham at the Den.
The black SUV you were traveling in took a sharp left turn, swiftly taking you out of the city. Even though Dimitri was at the Den most nights, his actual residence was far out of town. He preferred to spend his nights off away from the hustle and bustle, in his sprawling estate that few had seen in person, and even fewer had lived to tell about it.
Another turn, this time onto a side road that wound itself through the forest. The trees swallowed any lingering light from the city, leaving the SUV in its own bubble. The road narrowed the further you went, and started to incline. It wasn’t very mountainous outside of the city, but there were plenty of hills. Steep ones, with plenty of cliffs tall enough to get the job done. Your body didn’t produce bile the way humans did, but you swallowed whatever you had in your throat that threatened to bubble up into your mouth.
Josh, in the way he knew best, tried whispering comforts in your ear, which you faintly heard through the roaring in your ears. You felt his lips caress your ear as he spoke, those plush, perfect lips that mere hours ago were claiming you as his. You tried to remember the last kiss you had shared with him in your bed. A soft but secure kiss before you slumbered in his arms. You closed your eyes and melted into him, tempted to take off the seatbelt and crawl in his lap for the remainder of the drive. He peppered kisses into your hair and on your cheek, trying to find something that calmed your fears.
The narrow road suddenly opened up into a sprawling driveway, a semi-circle pavement monstrosity complete with an obnoxious fountain in the center that the SUV peeled around. Of course Dimitri would be the only address on this road. The literal end of the line. The vehicle lurched to a halt before the driver shut it off and calmly exited. The door to the right of Josh was yanked open, and both of the men were standing on either side, waiting for you to exit. Josh laced his fingers in yours before getting out first and helping you out. He refused to let go of your hand for a second.
The chilly night air nipped at your legs as you gazed upon the impressive manor. It consisted of three floors above ground, but you recalled rumors of an extensive basement system down below.
The Gothic architecture was almost too on the nose, something that Josh whispered in your ear, “the only thing he’s missing is a giant neon sign that says ‘a vampire lives here’ with a massive arrow pointing to the house.”
You bit your lip to keep from smiling, “he really leans into the stereotypes…”
The feeling of normalcy between you two was short lived, as the two henchmen ushered you up the stone steps leading into the manor. You weren’t a runner, but the fight or flight response was nearly impossible to ignore at this point. A simple squeeze of your hand by Josh brought you back to reality. The heavy wooden door was pulled open by one of the men, his hand gesturing for you two to enter. Because a Vampire owned this house, formal invitations weren’t necessary. Josh entered just a step ahead of you, preparing to get in the way of anything that could potentially attack.
However, the two of you were met to an empty foyer that opened up to a grand entrance hall. The hall was flanked by two massive identical staircases that mirrored each other and met at a shared landing high above you. The room was lit with flickering lights that mimicked candlelight, another way Dimitri stayed on theme.
The front door closed loudly behind you, leaving you alone and in complete silence. You heard familiar classical music being played down one of the halls, but you didn’t have much time to figure out exactly where when you heard the tapping of footsteps marching towards you. Within seconds, a Vampire in his fifties appeared at the bottom of the stairs, staring at you both with an unreadable expression. You could feel Josh jump a little at his sudden appearance, as most humans weren’t used to the fact that sometimes Vampires just…appeared at times. This habit along with the super speed was what started the false rumor that Vampires could teleport within shadow.
It took you a second to recognize him but it dawned on you, “it's been a long time, Phillip.”
The Vampire grimaced at your words, as he had never been very fond of you, “Dimitris would like to see you both in his study.”
You kept your gaze steady, not wanting Phillip of all Vampires to see you nervous, “lead the way.”
With a slight huff Phillip turned on his heel and led the two of you down the main hall to the right. As you walked, the sound of classical music met your ears, letting you know you were close. With Phillips walking in front, you took your chance and slid your hand into Josh’s with a firm grip. He squeezed back, and ran his thumb up and down the side of your hand. Phillip took a sharp left turn down a dimly lit corridor and the music grew louder. Ahead of him you could see flickering light pouring out of an open doorway. This was it.
He stopped in front of the door and ushered the two of you inside, where you found Dimitri lounging on a Victorian couch. He was staring into the roaring fire, his expression unreadable.
Dimitri briefly looked up to acknowledge your presence before sitting up straighter and squaring his shoulders, “ Leave us, Phillip. I wish to speak with them alone.” Phillip gave a curt nod before disappearing down the dark corridor. Dimitri gestured to the identical couch across from his, offering you and Josh a seat. His eyes were fixed on your joined hands as you sat down.
“Always a pleasure, darling.” You nodded, words failing you. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here. I apologize for the short notice but…the matter could not wait.” He smiled softly at you, continuing to study you both. “I feel we shouldn’t beat around the bush and get directly to the matter at hand.”
You gulped and didn’t care if he saw it or not.
“How long have you known, Mr. Kiszka here?” You knew it was coming, but him saying Josh’s name made your blood run cold. Before you could answer he said, “you almost had me with that fake name at the Den…but when I tasted his blood I knew right away who he was. Well, what family he came from, at least.”
“How-,” Josh interjected.
“Oh my dear Joshua, your great-grandfather’s blood tasted very similar,” he said matter-of-fact. Josh glared at the Vampire as his hand tensed in yours and you felt his whole body become rigid. “I’ve come across your family many times, but I’ve always eluded them of course,” a cool smile spread across his face. “Which is why it was so…interesting of you, darling, to bring one of them into my Blood Den under a false identity. I would even venture to say it was out of character.”
“Dimitri I-”
The older Vampire wasn’t finished, “however, it might surprise you to know I had no intention of doing anything about your little…indiscretion…for the time being. In fact I fully planned to merely observe how many times you’d bring your little hunter friend amongst us Vampires. Now, the real plot twist was you feeding on him the other night. That I did not expect at all. But the best part was that little Joshua here was enjoying it…” He smirked at Josh, who continued to glare at him.
You tried to keep your voice steady, “but if you weren’t going to do anything about it, then why are we here?”
Dimitri nodded and leaned forward, “yes the wrinkle in all of this was that someone went behind my back to the Council and told them everything.”
“Who the fuck-,” you started.
“You’ve probably noticed that Yvonne isn’t here tonight? Well, it seems someone got a little impatient in my promise to eventually turn her and she tried using this delicious piece of information to hopefully convince a member of,” he stopped to chuckle lightly and pinch the bridge of his nose, “the Council of all groups to turn her instead.”
Your eyes widened at the stupidity, there was no way the Council would turn a human for this. They were even more selective than Dimitri when it came to creating new Vampires. Yvonne had to be extremely desperate, stupid, or both to pull this move.
“I mean maybe it's my fault for keeping her around for nearly a decade on the promise of turning her? Humans are such impatient creatures,” he flicked his eyes back at Josh, “no offense.”
“What did the Council say to all of this?”
“You’re both in luck that I have a few friends on the Council that came directly to me with Yvonne’s betrayal, and thus a warning as to what they said to do about it.”
It was a good thing you were already sitting down, but Dimitri’s habit of drawing things out was making your anxiety so much worse.
“The first thing they did was tell me who the informant was. Yvonne was…quickly dealt with,” his voice trailed off, but you knew better than to ask the how and what about that situation, “and after that, they gave us a few options going forward.”
You could feel your hunter's hand going clammy, and his heartbeat could be heard over the crackling fire.
“The first option, and the one they wanted the most, was for you to Meet the Sun, darling,” for the first time in decades, you saw sadness creep into his eyes, “the second option of course, was just to flat out kill our dear Joshua. Both options had the obvious caveat of having you watch each other’s death. Which would then lead to the death of the one watching. So essentially it was more of a ‘who first’ matter.”
“Oh…,” it was all you could say. It was what you were fearing, but finally hearing Dimitri say it out loud made your vision blur and your knees shake.
“But,” Dimitri sat back against the couch, a satisfied grin replaced the sadness, “I had an even more poetic idea.”
“What could be more ‘poetic’ than that?” The sarcasm dripped from Josh’s voice.
Dimitri held his hands out, palms facing the two of you, as if he was telling you to brace yourselves, “why, stripping the Vampire Hunter’s humanity away, of course!”
“What,” you squeaked out.
“...and as a cherry on top, having you be the one to turn him!”
Your ears started ringing, “excuse me?”
“Oh think about it, darling. Turning not just any human, but a Kiszka? Do you know how many Vampire’s have tried to do that very thing and failed?”
“I can think of a few,” Josh deadpanned.
Dimitri gave Josh a look but continued, “you see, the worst way to insult a hunter, especially one from a family line, isn’t to kill them. Hunters love dying for the cause. No no, it's turning one. Why? Well darling I don’t know if your little friend here has told you, but they view being turned as a fate worse than death. In fact, they even view the mere suggestion of allowing a hunter-turned-vampire to exist as a walking advert of their failures. Isn’t that right, dear Joshua?”
Josh stilled next to you. It was true.
“Nothing worse than the hunter becoming the hunted, eh,” the older Vampire said with raised eyebrows.
You had to be hallucinating. This was all some wild nightmare you were having. Any second now you’d wake up in Josh’s arms, safely shielded by the sun in your bed. You dropped your face into your hands, rubbing your eyes but when you opened them you were still sitting in Dimitri’s cliched study.
“And if we don’t take that option,” you asked, still not believing what you were hearing.
Dimitri’s expression grew serious, “then as I said before, it would only be a matter of…who goes first.”
Josh stared at the ornate rug under his feet. The thought of you burning from the sun again made him nauseous. He could still hear how your skin sizzled and cracked open, the gasps of pain and the whimpers you tried to hide. The thought of you being held out in the open, more than likely in front of an audience, while you slowly burned to death, especially because of him, made the bile rise in his throat. The dream that he had had the first time he slept next to you invaded his mind, and he visibly shuddered. But on the other hand…if he agreed to this, to being turned, how would he tell Jake? Or Sam? What would he say to them?
“...and there’s really no other way?” Josh asked the obvious, but he needed to express it out loud.
Dimitri shook his head, “if I don’t give the Council a decision they’ll make one themselves, and I can promise that you don’t want it to get to that.”
Josh nodded his head, the skin on the back of his neck prickled hot, and he swallowed hard, “fine.”
You snapped your head to your left to look at him, “what do you mean, ‘fine’?”
“Turn me,” he slowly swiveled his gaze, meeting your eyes for a second before looking back at Dimitri, “I want her to do it, no one else.”
Dimitri sat back with a satisfied smile, “I knew you were smart, dear Joshua. She must mean a lot to you in order to give up your humanity like this.”
You stared at your hunter, tears filling your eyes, “no…” Painfully, a memory surfaced in your mind, from that first night in the Den. The brief banter you exchanged while you were explaining your favorite cocktail to him.
“A-Negative pairs really well with whiskey. Robust but not overpowering, gives you a great buzz. It's a shame you can’t find that out for yourself with your…humanity and all.”
Josh gave you a flat look, “I like my humanity just fine.”
“Suit yourself…though a hunter turned Vampire would be hilariously ironic.”
It was just a joke on your end, something silly to loosen him up, but now the words burned in your throat.
“You’re not dying because of me,” his words shook you from your thoughts.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for…”
“Out of our options…this is our only option, sweetheart.”
“I’ve never…I’ve never turned someone…”
“But you know how, darling, you know the procedure,” Dimitri offered from his couch.
You turned to look at the older Vampire, “and you’re ok with this? Turning someone new?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it to the Council if I wasn’t. Plus, imagine the business it would bring to the Dens I have? You two making an appearance? Think about it, the hunter who was willing to be turned to save a Vampire? And you, darling, the Vampire who tempted a hunter to want to be turned? You, turned a Kiszka? Vampires and their Human Companions would be flocking to get a glimpse of you. It would…add to the fantasy of theirs,” Dimitri couldn’t contain his excitement at the possibilities.
“Fantasy,” you questioned.
“Well, the human fantasy of one day…following in your footsteps…,” Dimitri countered.
Having heard enough, you turned back to Josh, “are you sure?”
“Yes,” he made sure to look you in the eyes as he said it. He reached out, collecting your hands into his, driving home the fact he was serious. You instantly tangled your fingers around his, gripping him nearly too tight, but you needed to ground yourself.
“Wonderful,” you vaguely registered the excitement emanating from Dimitri as he sprang to his feet, “now, I had a feeling this would be the decision and I already had a room upstairs ready for you both. Anything you need, darling, and it's yours.”
You nodded numbly, not wanting to take your eyes off of Josh. Your chest didn’t know whether to heave or to cave in on itself. It was too much, it was all too much at one time. You tried to travel back in your mind to this morning, with Josh hovering above you in your bed. The last time things felt normal with him. The way the wall sconces scattered light through his curly hair, the heat of his skin against yours, the kisses he left all over your nose and cheeks, he was your gentle daylight. Your gentle daylight that you were cursing into never seeing the sun again.
Before you knew it, Dimitri stood before you both with a warm smile not seen by many people.
“Come on, I’ll show you to the room myself,” he offered, hand stretched out to the door.
Josh was the first to stand up, his hands still clinging to yours as you left your seat. The both of you silently followed Dimitri out of the study, barely paying attention to where you were going. He led you down the corridor and up one flight of stairs and then another. Why he chose the third floor for this bewildered you, but knowing Dimitri there was a reason. The thick mahogany door was already open, and inside there was a large bed in the corner, flanked by two night stands. A chaise lounge was across the room, accompanied by an antique coffee table in front of it. On both the coffee table and the night stands were stacks of towels and rags, presumably for any spilled blood. But in the far corner of the room, was a bay window that let you know you were in one of the turret rooms. Underneath the windows were bench seats built into the wall.
Dimitri held up a small remote before placing it on the nightstand, “the sun will be up soon, so when you need the shutters you’ll have them.” Of course Dimitri would put sun-blocking shields on his windows. You don’t live as long as he had without crossing all your t’s and dotting all your i’s.
“I umm…I have to call my brothers…,” Josh nearly stuttered out, looking at Dimitri.
He looked skeptical at first but his expression softened, “very well, but if you attempt to bring the calvary here to save you, I can assure you it won’t end well for anyone involved.”
With a deep inhale through his nose, Josh nodded, “understood.”
Dimitri turned to you, “as I said in the study, anything you need, darling, and I’ll get it here. I have staff just outside the door, waiting for you.”
“Th-thank you, Dimitri…,” you were still overwhelmed, the situation slowly sinking in.
“I’ll leave you to it then, I trust you know what to do,” his hand extended to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. You nodded in response, and he quickly left the room, shutting the heavy door behind him. The loud click of the lock nearly echoed, reminding you this was your only path forward.
“I ruined your life…,” you whispered as you sat on the couch.
Josh was still standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space deep in thought, but your words snapped him out of it and he turned his head to you, “no you didn’t.”
“It was my idea to bring you to the Den, it was my idea to ‘team up’ it was-”
In three strides he was beside you on that couch, cupping your face in his hands, “and I agreed every single time, and made the choice to go with you.”
You couldn’t stop the tears spilling down your cheeks, and his thumbs dutifully wiped each one away, “if we do this, you won’t be able to go back to your family. At least, I don’t know how they’d react-”
Josh sniffed, “I’m going to call Jake and Sam before anything happens…I don’t…I don’t know what I’m going to say but I have to let them know it’ll be awhile before I come back home.” He was trying so hard to be strong in your presence, to not let the situation get to him, but his hands shook against your cheeks, and he struggled to get his words out.
“There’s something else, Josh,” he looked at you in confusion, “not every- not everyone who gets turned takes to their new existence well. It's not something one can predict beforehand, it's almost random in how new Vampire’s navigate the world.”
“You turned out fine,” he countered.
“Barely. Remember when I told you that the first decade was rough? I meant that. I wasn’t taught skills or control because my Maker-”
“Then I will be lucky to have a Maker as thoughtful as you to teach me how to correctly survive.” His eyes never left yours and his thumbs never stopped rubbing your cheeks.
You wanted to smile at his confidence, but you needed to voice the elephant in the room, “Vampires like Ethan aren’t exactly…rare either…”
He understood what you were trying to say, “if I end up like Ethan…I’ll need you and Jake to do the right thing…”
This made you crumble even more, “I’m not strong enough to do that…”
His face got even more serious, “yes you are, and don’t forget that. I’m going to go call my brothers…and then we can get started, ok?”
With a shaky breath, you nodded. His hands left your face, and you deflated a little from the loss. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed as he stood up, making his way to the bay window and looking out into the night. The moon was full, but low in the sky, indicating that the sunrise was closer than he thought.
After three rings, Jake picked up, “do you know what time it is? Some of us like sleeping at night.” The watery breath Josh exhaled into the speaker made every alarm bell go off in Jake’s head, “what's wrong? Did something happen?”
“No…but, well yes, but not what you think.”
“Josh, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“We got caught, Jake. They umm…they figured out who I was and we were both brought in-”
“Brought in where?” Josh could hear rustling on the other end of the phone, indicating Jake was sitting up on the air mattress.
“Just…some high level Vamps gave us an ultimatum and I took it.”
“Not their stupid fucking Council? Those fucking ghouls. What was the ultimatum?”
This was it, he had to tell him, “...that if I don’t want to be killed…I have to be turned…”
There was a deafening silence on the other end of the line, with only a gruff, “are you fucking kidding me,” to cut through it.
“Turn your location on, I'll come get you.”
Josh looked up at the ceiling, eyes watery, “you can’t do that, man.”
“The fuck you mean I can’t? I’ve gotten you out of worse.”
“They’ll kill you on the spot, and trust me the place I’m at has the muscle to even take you down.”
Another long silence, “...so you’re just going to roll over and let them turn you into one of those things? ‘Cause from how I see it, you’re getting killed either way.”
“Jake-”
“You’ll have to watch me get older than you and eventually-” his tone was becoming frantic.
“We’re not going to think about that right now. This is my only chance. I’ll be…different but I’ll still be here.”
“Who's doing it?” Now it was Josh’s turn to not speak, “oh how fucking poetic. They’re having her do it?! I knew it. I fucking knew it. You don’t think this was her plan all along?”
Josh looked at you over his shoulder, you were still sitting on the couch with your hands in your lap. Because of your hearing, you were able to hear everything Jake said, and that last accusation made a fresh batch of tears roll down your face.
He turned back around, beginning to get pissed off, “I can promise you it wasn’t.”
After a few heavy breaths into the phone, Jake said, “...when is it happening?”
“Tonight.”
“I just…I don’t know what to say.”
“Me either, honestly.”
“Mom and dad…wait, have you called Sammy?”
“No not yet, I was about to.”
“Please make sure you do, I don’t want him hearing about this second hand from anyone. You know how he gets....”
Josh nodded, “I know…”
“After you…afterwards…then what?”
Josh shrugged, “they made it sound like I was basically free to go afterwards…that my ‘new existence’ would be punishment enough.”
Jake revisited the same thoughts Josh had had downstairs in the study. Hunters viewed being turned as the ultimate failure, a spit in the face of their life's work. Turning Josh would definitely make a statement, and a warning, to the entire hunter community.
Jake turned the phone to hide the sniff he made, but Josh heard it anyway, “I need you to come back as soon as you can, got it?”
“I will, I just…can’t promise you when that’ll be.”
“Just promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise.”
“I’m not saying ‘goodbye’ either, I can’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Josh sniffed again.
“Call Sammy,” was all Jake said before he hung up. Josh knew he didn’t hang up to be rude, but he knew his twin couldn’t handle this information. He instantly dialed Sam’s number, but it kept going to voicemail. He called him five more times, before sighing in defeat and settling for a voicemail. He felt horrible that he had to leave it at that, but it didn’t seem like Sam was anywhere near his phone. He glanced at the sky, noting the full moon again. This also meant that Sam’s best friend, Danny, wasn’t able to be reached tonight either. Fuck. The phone beeped and he began his little speech, mumbling his way through it but trying his best to sound strong for his younger brother. Eventually he hung up and turned back to you.
“So…how does this happen?”
You gulped and stood up, walking over to him, “I umm…I have to d-drain you…completely, and when you’re at the brink of d-death, you drink my blood.”
Josh nodded, “and then?”
“You’ll fall asleep, and you’ll stay asleep for at least a few days. It differs from person to person. I was out for at least two nights. And even after that it's common to sleep a lot those first few weeks as your body changes and adjusts.” You reached up and cradled his jaw, “but don’t worry, I won’t go anywhere. You’re not leaving my sight the entire time.”
Overwhelmed by it all, Josh crashed his lips into yours, needing something to ground himself. You kissed him back, pouring every bit of emotion you could into it.
Eventually he pulled back just enough to say, “how do you want to do it?”
“Any way you want, honestly,” you looked over at the bed, “the bed would be the most comfortable.”
He nodded, “ok then, the bed it is.” He walked over and stripped off his shirt and shorts, leaving himself in his underwear as he started turning down the thick covers. He wasn’t sure how much blood there would be, but if the amount of towels on the nightstand and coffee table were any indication, it wasn’t going to be a ‘clean’ process.
Following his lead, you took your own shirt off and shimmied off your leggings, leaving yourself in your underwear and a random sports bra you found in your drawer. As you stood next to him, you realized both of you were a little stumped as to what to do next. Obviously knew what to do, but going about it was the question.
While you pondered you glanced up at your hunter, and noted all of his earrings, “are those silver?”
He nodded and then it dawned on him, “oh…I’ll have to take them out won’t I?”
“Yeah…but I can get you new ones. The holes won’t close up during…it all.”
Josh was a bit surprised, “really?”
“Its weird I know but for some reason most piercings stay-”
“No I meant…you don’t have to get me new ones.”
“Oh but I want to, they look so good on you,” finally, a genuine smile slid across your face.
Josh started taking them out one by one and placing them on the nightstand. The second you smiled he relaxed a lot more. He needed normalcy.
Wanting to keep the mood light, you reached up and gently touched the shaved sides of his head, “you’re also lucky I really like this haircut on you.”
His eyes went wide as he dropped the last ear cuff on the wooden surface, “will it not grow back at all?”
“It will, just very slowly. Your fingernails will still grow too,” you reached out and threaded your fingers with his, another thought occurring to you, “you know…we never even really defined whatever this,” you gestured between you two, “is.”
Josh stood there for a second, looking at you, before bringing both hands to your face and securing his lips to yours, he pulled away less than an inch from your face and said, “I think…you’re mine, and that's all that matters. Don’t you think so?”
Another real smile, this time closer to the smirk he loved so much, “mine?”
“Mine,” he whispered that word all over your face, planting soft kisses to any skin he could reach. Your arms wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer. His lips found home against yours, and for a few moments you lazily made out next to the bed. With your eyes closed, you were able to pretend for a moment you were back in his attic apartment, standing on those cold wooden floors about to be utterly taken by your lover on those god-awful plaid sheets. But as he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open, and the reality of where you were, and what you were about to do hit you again. A wave of emotion swept over you again, but you refused to let any tears fall. If you were going to be a Maker, you had to be strong for him. He needed you to be his rock right now.
“I’m assuming the neck is the best place to umm…get it done?”
Your eyes softened even more at him, “typically yes. The wrist is too slow and the thigh is too fast, the neck gives you the best control.” This was explained to you many times over the years by different Vampires. “I think…what would be the most comfortable, if you want, would be if I sat up against the headboard and you leaned against me?”
“That makes sense,” he said quietly.
You grabbed some of the towels and spread them out over the bed and pillows, just in case. When you were finished you turned back to Josh, only to find him walking towards the bay window. The sky was a soft pink, indicating the sun was rising. Carefully, you walked towards him, sticking to the shadows in the room.
“I just…I needed to see it…”
He didn’t need to explain himself to you, you understood. It was quite possibly the last time he’d be able to look at the sun without pain. His eyes were trained to the horizon, and as the sun greeted the new day, you finally got to see what those beautiful eyes of his looked in the sunlight. The wish you had made the night you met him in that bar. Those big brown eyes were illuminated into a molten honey color, and for once you were actually grateful for the sun to give this to you.
He turned to you, giving you an even better view, “what?”
You shook your head from the still-shaded part of the room and smiled, “just looking at you, Boy Scout.”
Josh gave one final look out the window, before turning away from it completely and walking over to join you in the shadow. He took your hand and led you back to the bed. You looked down at the little remote that Dimitri had left behind, and plucked it off the surface and studied it. There were only a few buttons on it, making it easy to decipher, and after hitting a few of them thick shades descended from the top of the windows, sealing them shut from the outside world.
“Fancy…,” Josh mused as you turned on the nearest lamp.
“He spares no expense,” you agreed as you crawled in the bed. You fluffed a few pillows behind you before fully sitting up against the headboard. Your hunter’s heartbeat sped up, you didn’t even have to try too hard to hear it. It made your own heart twinge, but you sat up a little bit more and held your hand out to him. He gladly took it as he got into the bed, turning around and leaning back against your chest. You softly brought your arms around his chest, giving him as good of a hug as you could in that position. He slowly tilted his head to the side, giving you full access to the left side of his neck.
Your fingertips caressed his jawline while you stared down at him, “are you ready?”
“Is anyone?”
“If you need a few more minutes that's perfectly fine, Josh.”
“No no, I’m…I’m ready.”
“Just remember, I’m not going anywhere.” He brought one of your hands to his lips and gave the back an open mouthed kiss before craning his neck and giving you one last kiss. Pulling away, he slipped back into position, and closed his eyes.
Your fangs descended from your gums, and before you could hesitate even more, you drove them into the soft flesh of his neck. Josh flinched slightly, and you quickly gathered his hands in your free hand, letting him squeeze and cling as hard as he needed to. Your other hand continued to gently rub his jaw and cheek, comforting him as best you could. Draining someone was different from your typical feeding bite. You had to be more deliberate, with deeper pulls and less finesse. You couldn’t even enjoy the citrusy accents in his blood, or that fresh vanilla, no, you just had to get it all.
Josh relaxed more in your arms as the draining progressed. You still paid close attention to his slowing heart rate, listening for the time you instinctively would know to give him your blood. It felt like it was taking too long and also flying by at the same time. As a Vampire, the whole process felt bizarre, but you were determined to get everything right. Your hunter deserved nothing but the best.
~!~
Across the country, through a few different time zones, a young scholar was sitting across an icy blonde. Mounds of papers and stacks of books were scattered around the room, the only light coming from the various table lamps around the basement office. The scholar stood up to go to his other desk, and after shuffling around the stacks of documents he had been translating, he found his phone that had gone missing some hours before. The screen lit up with six missed calls from Josh, and a slew of texts from Jake telling him to pick up his phone. At the top of his notifications was a voicemail from his oldest brother. Confused, he unlocked his phone to listen to it.
“Sam…Sammy it's Josh. I umm, I got into some trouble with this job, and I probably won’t be home for a while. I don’t need you to freak out, I’ve already talked to Jake. Call him after you get this, he’ll explain further. But umm….but basically I was given a choice. You know how Vampire’s can be…I’m sorry I’m being vague. But…I was going to be killed if I didn’t agree to…to be turned…and that's what's going to happen now. I wanted to tell you this myself, but you’re probably busy with your work. Which, sorry for always calling your college Hogwarts. You’re only one of us with any sort of degree, and I’ll always be proud of you for that. Sorry for stealing those files from you a few months ago, I’ll get them back to you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere, Sammy, but I’ll be…different from now on. But I’ll be back, it might not seem like it, I can promise you I’m in safe hands. This isn’t a goodbye, Sam, but I needed you to hear this from me before anyone else. I’m rambling now but…I love you-”
The voicemail cut off, and Sam’s hands were shaking so bad the phone dropped onto the desk with a loud clatter, startling the blonde.
“Sam, what is it,” she asked as she adjusted her cat eye glasses.
He turned to her, knees suddenly weak, “I umm…I need to call Danny…I need Danny.”
She checked the time on her own phone and her heart sank, “Sam the moon is still out…”
The realization caused him to lean against the desk, and the sudden collapse had the blonde on her feet and over to him instantly. In the years she had known him she had never seen him like this, and she wondered what the hell he had heard on his phone.
“Sam…come on Sam tell me what’s wrong,” he leaned down on her, burying his face into her shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do…” he all but whimpered as his world as he knew it shattered.
~!~
Josh’s heart rate was slow, so slow now, you knew it was time. Reluctantly you drew your hand out of his as you removed your fangs from his neck. Quickly you bit into your wrist, drawing blood and using your other hand to open his mouth. Your wrist rested against his lips as you made sure to drip as much of your blood as you could into his system. You began to worry when he didn’t react to the blood, but within seconds you felt his lips seal against your wrist, and you felt him pull from you. Relief flooded through you and you whispered praises into his ear. You weren’t sure if he could hear you, but for both of your sakes you hoped he did.
He started to relax again, and you knew he was about to fall into that deep slumber between being alive and…one of the undead.
Before he slipped under completely, you whispered one last time, “now come back to me, Boy Scout..”
To be continued…
Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet ,
#josh kiszka#josh kiszka x reader#i see hell in your eyes#my writing#my fics#enemies to lovers#slow burn#🩸🖤#greta van fleet#josh gvf
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I’m only on season 1 of supernatural and I’m literally so in love with the filter and the overall aesthetic of the setting. will they stay like this for the rest of the series?
boy i wish i could say that it does but unfortunately, they switch up the color grading in season three (basically at the same time they ditch using actual film cameras and go fully digital) so the sexy muted/grungy/dirt road aesthetic of the first two seasons definitely takes a hit. it’s not too bad up through season five, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely different. however, from season six onwards there’s a gradual increase in vibrance/saturation and the lighting goes from carefully utilizing shadows/highlights to capture the mood of a scene to straight up sitcom. same goes for setting honestly, but i can’t say too much about that without spoiling shit for you.
basically, just think of season six onwards as a different show, because it essentially is. you can still enjoy it! there’s definitely fun to be had in the later seasons, but it’s simply not the same—it’s kind of like when you check out the most recently released songs on spotify of an artist you really loved ten years ago, and their new music just doesn’t hit the same way.
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Tear You Apart
Chapter 1: Paranoid
Daryl Dixon x Reader
A/N: soooo as you can probably tell I’ve been watching the walking dead… and I’m almost finished now and I’ve fallen madly in love with Norman. This fic is gonna be a series and slow burn romance and Daryl isn’t in this chapter but will be in the next !!
Era: Prison Era onwards (Pre-Woodbury Fall)
Warnings: allusion to death of loved ones, murder, typical TWD stuff
Word Count: 5k
Masterlist: here
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You had taken a large step over a display case of alcohol- the bottles now smashed, littering the ground with glass shards. It looked as though someone had thrown it down in a hurry, like they were looking for something hidden behind. Maybe they’d been running from the dead and took the case down with them on the way. You tried not to focus on the mess, and instead, your eyes flickered around the room, which felt much smaller because of the clutter and boarded-up windows. Eventually, your eyes landed on a medicine cabinet by the cash register.
A quick, sharp pain charred into your skin with each breath, so you took them slowly, and they shook against your lips as you inspected the shelves. There were a few brightly coloured protein bars in the road trip aisle so you quickly shoved them into your pockets. Your slouchy cargo pants were already packed full of your belongings- a box of ammo for your gun, your flip-knife and some bandages… a notebook and pen- and even a watch you managed to keep working that told you the date and time. It had been a gift before everything happened, and something your friend had given you on your birthday.
When you reached the cabinet, you shuffled around the boxes in search of some over-the-counter antibiotics. There were a few boxes of menstruation relief medication, so you shoved those into your pockets before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and onto the ground alongside the metal bow you'd been lugging with your sheath and arrows.
At the beginning, when the virus started spreading, the first thing you did was go and pick up as many survivalist books as you could find. You figured not a lot of people would think of that when panic buying. In the books you learned how to make toothpaste, soap and even string your own arrows. The few people you’d grouped with didn’t think it was necessary, but you deemed it more than so and found yourself using the knowledge you’d gained studying those books like gospel during your time spent alone- away from any kind of civilization.
Your free arm swept the boxes from the shelf into your napsack. Now hunched over at this level, you noticed some tubes of antiseptic cream and chucked them in alongside the boxes of pain medication. You struggled to fit it all in alongside your homemade toiletries- but eventually managed and went back to looking at the assortments the store still had.
Then, there was a crunch from the shattered glass and you raised your bow, arrow already equipped- it was second nature at this point yet still the sudden movement had your teeth gritting together so hard you thought you might break a filling.
“One wrong move and I’ll cut you in half”
Your eyes were met with those of a woman and man. She looked to be a few years older whereas he was maybe a year or two younger. Her eyes were dark and focused, her locks fell past her rich mahogany shoulders and down her back. The man looked at you with bright, wide brown eyes. His hair was a short, black mess on his head. He was wearing a navy button shirt rolled up to his elbows. And you noticed he had reached for the gun on his hip but hesitated.
“We aren’t gonna hurt you.”
The man spoke first, holding up his hands as you kept your arrow pointed in their general direction- eyes flickering to the woman beside him. Her cold stare seemed to soften, having now taken you in properly. Your shoulder was wrapped in dirt-covered bandages that needed changing to avoid a gnarly infection, and your skin caked in filth and dried blood. Your clothes were just as bad, the bottoms of your pants were saturated with dirty water and your leather boots scuffed and plastered with dried mud.
“My name’s Glenn Rhee… This is Michonne,” he slowly referred to the woman holding the katana with his right hand. She shuffled on her feet as you swallowed and pursed your lips together- trying to ignore the stabbing sensation in your side. You glared them both down, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as they looked at you like you were a small child who needed saving. The man - Glenn - spoke again.
“Are you out here all by yourself?”
Chewing the inside of your cheek, your knuckles white- the metal frame leaving a curved indent in your palm.
“As Glenn said, we aren't going to hurt you.” the woman - Michonne - added.
“He won’t, but doesn't…” you paused, feeling the sharp pain in your ribs again. “How can I be sure you won’t skewer me with that Katana?”
Glenn looked over with pleading eyes, his lips sewn shut in a straight line. As though communicating telepathically, she sheathed her weapon - yet still rested her hand on the tip of the handle. You couldn’t blame her for that.
“So,” she began again, “are you alone?”
You nodded.
It was then Glenn’s turn to speak. “You’ve been alone this entire time?- I mean, you’re far from home. It doesn’t sound like you’re from Georgia, let alone the states.”
You slowly lowered the bow yet kept the end of the arrow between your fingers and the handle- pointing it at the ground with less force as you had been a moment prior. “I was with a group, we were ambushed. There weren’t many of us; we couldn’t hold them off.”
You watched as Glenn regarded you with an empathy that many people seemed to resonate with nowadays. He didn't press any further about the group; from the look in your eyes, he could sense the wound was still fresh.
“So, you moved to the States before everything?” Michonne was the next to ask; from the looks of it, she seemed to have calmed down compared to how she had been.
“Yeah, I was a tattoo artist.”
She nodded and looked to Glenn, who looked back with the same blank expression you couldn’t read.
“You have a name?” Glenn said, his hands now planted on his hips. You were suddenly aware of how filthy you looked compared to the pair. They must have come from somewhere with running water.
“y/n, y/n l/n”
“y/n, how many walkers have you killed?”
Puzzled, you raised a brow weakly, gripping the handle as though it had become fused to your flesh and bone. “I don’t… never thought to count, if I were to guess… about… upwards of 80.”
“How many people have you killed?” he asked that question with just as much conviction as the last. Michonne's gloved hands had now dropped to her sides as she peered down at your pile of belongings and the stray medicine boxes scattered at your feet.
“I… right now? two”
“Why?”
Biting your lip, you thought back to your friend. “The first tried to kill me, and the second killed my best friend, One I had known before this and after.” You fought back tears again, stroking your thumb across the metal frame. You had already cried so much - from the pain of your injuries and losing him - that there were now narrow streams of clean skin that went from your waterline to the curve of your chin. The rivers that had run down your cheeks starkly contrasted the mask of dirt, blood and sweat painted on your face.
“I’m sorry”, Michonne said first, “I can’t imagine what you’ve had to go through.”
“Yeah,” you bit back a laugh, throat hoarse, “you really can’t.”
Glenn stepped forward, and you stepped back, which made you wince and hiss at the stabbing pain in your side. “ We come from a group. We’re all survivors- like you- but we managed to find a place where we can have a chance.”
As you listened to the man, you wondered whether this was too good to be true. You had been all alone, both of you. Hunting and gathering, living in dirt and squalor for the better part of 9 months and here was your chance to start afresh with new people. It may have been the hunger, exhaustion, or innate need to survive that forced you to go along with them.
“Wait, there’s something we have to do first before we go.”
‿��͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
“Finn? It’s safe to come out now, kid”
You called out into a small wooden shed adjacent to a house which looked to have been burned down. Michonne and Glenn stood nearby with their weapons at hand, you could’ve scoffed as you watched them skittishly take in the view.
“We’ve been here for a few weeks, it was like that when we got here.” you kicked a twig by your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your side when a small boy walked out of the shadows with a knife in his grip. He was no less than 6, and his hair was a mess on his head. His skin was smudged with dirt- less than your own but it still looked as though he had been through a lot. Michonne forced a smile and took her hand off her blade. Glenn placed his gun back into his pack.
“Did you get the things?” he asked, pushing the knife back into his pocket. He had his own bag, and it was almost as big as him. Michonne peeked into your makeshift home, the floor was covered with a blanket and there were a few sacks of meat and cans laid out on the workbench. Beneath the bench, there was a sleeping bag atop a roll-out mattress. Then, on the blanket, adjacent to the bench, a sleeping bag without the extra support.
“I got some stuff, not really anything special but…” you ruffled his hair, picking out a stray piece of fluff that’d managed to work its way onto his strands. It’d gotten quite long, and it now brushed his collarbones. Whenever you offered to give it a trim, he refused and said he’d wait until everything went back to normal.
“Who are you?” Finn looked up at Glenn and Michonne, his eyebrows furrowed inwards- his attempt at a scowl.
“I’m Glenn- Is he your-?”
“Nephew” you cut in before asking the young boy to help you pack up your belongings with a smile. He nodded and got to it, only asking you questions about where you were going once you’d both left the pair standing outside.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
It took the four of you two and a half hours to get back to the prison. With having to carry your heavy belongings, Glenn suggested you all take regular breaks- he had noticed your struggle walking for long distances at a time with your injury. It was a journey you wished you wouldn’t have to make again in a similar shape. Finn, on the other hand, was fine and took the walk in his stride. He made idle talk with Glenn and Michonne- asking if there were other kids like him there. There were a few, according to Michonne, and he seemed more than excited to get back once having learned that.
A small boy, around 13 or 14, greeted the three of you at the gate. He was wearing a cowboy hat and a blue flannel shirt that looked as though it were a few sizes too big for him. Finn tried to hold back his nerves, and he opted instead to squeeze your hand. You squeezed his back twice, and looked down at him- smiling. The boy behind the fence opened it and greeted Glenn and Michonne, although he seemed to be struggling to comprehend what you and Finn were doing there.
“Hey Carl, where’s your dad?”
The boy - Carl - pointed toward the prison, a concrete slab of a building that seemed more cold than warm. You almost shuddered at the thought of the winters here, and Michonne seemed to sense your apprehension.
“It’s better inside, it doesn’t look like much, but it’s home for now.”
You nodded, having become quiet on the journey. She deduced that you’d only speak once you had been spoken to. As you started walking toward your new home, a slender brunette with short hair and a wide smile ran to you- to Glenn. She enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, and when he pulled back, she pressed her lips to his quickly. It was strange how people managed to find love in such desolate times. You couldn’t imagine falling in love before, but now, your fear of impending loneliness and abandonment settled to the back of your mind. Being lonely didn’t seem as bad as losing everyone you loved or got close to. Finn was the only exception these days, you loved that kid like he was your own. He was all you had left- after all.
“Who’s this?”
You snapped up from your thoughts and locked eyes with her. She was still smiling, though you chalked that up to the moment she had just shared with Glenn- her husband - by the looks of the ring on her finger.
“‘Maggie, this is y/n and Finn. We found them out alone in the woods… y/n’s injured, but she’s a tough one, I think, a hunter as well.” Glenn held up the knapsacks you’d crammed in the shed. Finn held your hand a bit tighter
Michonne nodded, “Mmhm, we’re gonna go see if your dad would check her up… then talk to Rick about what to do; he’ll probably wanna talk to her.”
You didn’t mind that they talked about you as though you weren’t there- or that you couldn’t hear every word they were saying - in the shape you were in, you couldn’t engage in a full-blown conversation. The only thing on your mind was the ache in your body and the grinding of your joints upon one another from all the walking you’d been doing.
“Ah, that’s great, well… it’s nice to meet you, y/n. I hope we get to know each other better.. you too, little guy, I love your shirt”
Finn’s cheeks flushed red at the compliment, and he thanked her politely- just as his mother had taught him to. You managed to smile small at how kind she was despite your and Finn’s appearances. Caked in blood and gore, you were still being treated like humans and not a pair of animals being taken to the slaughter.
“Me too.”
Maggie grinned before pecking Glenn on the cheek, exchanging a few fleeting words, and smiling at Michonne. Then, she was off in suit of the guard tower you’d passed on the way up.
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The cellblock was cold, as you’d expected, but it was refreshing in a way that the Georgian summer couldn’t provide on days like this. You’d run into only one other person on the way in, Beth, a young lady who was Maggie’s little sister. She seemed sweet enough, her eyes were kind, and her smile was bright with that whimsical nature teenagers seemed to have at that age- full of hope and wonder for what could come next. Finn seemed to like her too, and he made a passing comment that she reminded him of his primary school teacher.
As the three of you trailed further, you heard a baby crying and shushing from a man with the beginnings of a thick beard growing upon his jaw. A baby, you hadn’t seen a baby since before everything, and even then, it had been almost 7 years since your sister had given birth to Finn. You’d wanted children at one point- when you had a job and a home- a boyfriend and even a pet dog. Thankfully for your sanity, the boyfriend had been gone long before the outbreak, and unfortunately so was the dog.
Ozzy was an old, gentle rescue, one you remember fondly for the years you had spent together. That dog had been your lifeline for a while, your main reason for getting up in the morning for work. Sometimes, when you got anxious, you would trace your fingers across your arm- where a tattoo of his name lay in cursive amongst some of your others. Your fingers brushed across the skin now, drawing his name with the pads of your fingers as you and Finn approached the man and his child.
“Rick, can I talk to you real quick?”
Rick turned to Glenn, still holding the baby. You twitched a little in your spot and shuffled your feet, trying to avoid his cold, blank stare. His brow was furrowed with lines that held years of pain and torment. You swallowed thickly as the slate blue of his eyes glowed in the stream of light that peeked through the high windows of the prison, between the bars and onto the floor.
“Sure. Beth, can you take Judith?”
The young lady, Beth, whom you’d met on the way in, nodded with a smile and took the infant from Rick’s arms. The baby - Judith - looked only a few months old. Maybe a few weeks, if you were to guess. Rick walked over to you, Finn and Glenn. Michonne had left on the way up, saying she wanted to clean her blade. After a long morning of slicing through rivers of the undead, it was crusted with dried blood.
“Glenn, what the hell is this?” The older man regarded you with a blank stare. His accent was thick- thicker than Maggies - and his voice rough against his tongue. He then looked down at Finn- his brows raising and eyes widening. You pushed your nephew further behind you, lips tight together as Rick glanced you over again. Finn was still holding onto your hand.
“Y/N and her nephew, Finn. They've been on their own for a while, camping out in the woods a few hours away.” Glenn motioned to you and Finn as he introduced you to Rick. Mouth still shut, you swallowed back the fear and it sank to the pit of your stomach.
“She’s got meat- venison, with her- she’s a hunter, look I-“ Glenn looked at you quickly, “can you step out for a second, please?”
Once a decent space had been made between you, Finn and the two men, you stared blankly at your feet. You could only hear the whispers that reminded you of hissing and the occasional coddling from Beth in the other room. A sick feeling began to creep up inside of your gut, and you instinctively wrapped an arm around yourself to try and keep the bile from rising up your throat. “Do you think they're gonna kick us out?” Finn asked, his voice a slight hum over the buzzing thoughts in your head. “I.. I don't know, kid.”
A few minutes passed, and you were taken out of your head by the sound of Rick and Glenn approaching you both where you stood.
“Alright,” Rick placed his hands on his hips, almost tucking them into his belt. They looked like they had been lightly dusted with a thin layer of dirt and grime.
“You can both stay for now. We’ll see how it goes, and in a week or two, come back and decide if you can stay permanently or not”
You managed a thank you and a small smile, adjusting your metal recurve bow slung over your back. Rick hesitated momentarily, clearing his throat and shuffling where he stood. “One thing, for uh, the first week, we’re gonna keepa’ holda’ your weapons. We have kids here and-“
“You don’t trust me yet,” you sighed and unsheathed your bow and quiver- handing them over alongside your drop-point black hunting knife and glock 22. You also handed over the 6 full boxes of ammo you had scavenged from a camp that had been overrun by walkers. “Don’t worry, non-taken. I get it. I wouldn’t want a stranger around Finn with guns and knives either.” you nodded at Finn, who then pulled out a large hunting knife from the loop on his pants. Sometimes people you crossed paths with would look at you as though you were a bad parental figure for allowing him to carry that, however, you thought it was more than necessary to teach him while his mind was still malleable. Just in case anything happened to you.
He huffed “Well, I guess we can agree on that. How old are you, Finn?”
“I’m 7 soon, Sir”
Rick almost laughed, and you smiled weakly at the small boy as he insisted on being formal- as though that'd be what made their minds up as to whether you could stay.
“Rick’s just fine, Finn”
The boy nodded and handed Grimes the machete, the blade pointing down to the ground just as you had told him.
“You moved here before, then?” He added, quickly changing the subject. You nodded twice. Having explained this already numerous times, you weren’t that pissed about Rick asking. It was all procedural- he was the leader. It only made sense that he knew where you came from.
“I did before the apocalypse, I was a-.” you took in a sharp breath and pressed your hand further against your hip to try and dull the pain. “I was a tattoo artist and worked in a studio- learned how to shoot a bow in summer camp, kept up with it… a friend of mine before and after, he taught me all the survival stuff, he was ex-military so…”
Like Michonne and Glenn, Rick seemed to relax as you told him part of your story. He - more than anyone - understood that everyone had their demons, and that there were probably things you didn’t want to tell him.
“Well, thank you for telling me. Glenn, take her to Hershel, She can stay in the medical cell until we know she’s not sick.”
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
Hershel was a kind man. Kind, old and wise. The way he treated you so carefully and gently- even excusing himself whenever he added pressure to your ribs- It almost brought tears to your eyes. He had told you (and Finn, since he’d refused to leave the medical cell whilst you were being treated) how he had Irish and English ancestry and that his father and grandfather before him took pride in where they’d come from. You chatted back and forth for what felt like hours, and before you knew it, you were all bandaged up. He’d suggested bed rest for your broken ribs, and with the gash on your shoulder, he advised being careful when showering and coming back to see him in a day or so to have it changed or if you accidentally got it wet.
“Now, if I were you, young lady, I’d go wash up and get some rest; you’re gonna need it for your injuries…” you slowly swung your legs over the side of the bed, gritting your teeth together so hard it felt as though you were going to crack a filling. “And you, Young man, you take care of your auntie okay? Make sure she doesn’t get herself in any sorta trouble” Finn nodded, adding a ‘yes sir’ as Hershel reached out to ruffle his head. You pinched the bridge of your nose with your finger and thumb. “But i- Rick said-”
“Never mind what Rick said. I’ll let him know you’re healing up, and I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Before you could get up to leave, a woman with short grey hair knocked on the gate- in her arms, she had what looked to be two towels, a pair of shorts and a clean black vest along with some clothes that’d probably be a bit big for Finn, ones he’d grow into. As she entered, Hershel excused himself, letting the woman know where he’d be if she needed him. She then turned her attention back to you and Finn, a smile spread across her face as she moved to place the clothes and towels on the bed beside you.
“Hi, heard you guys were gonna be staying for a while, thought you'd need some fresh clothes and a towel each for the shower”
You nodded in response, and she sheepishly chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m Carol, by the way”
“y/n”
“y/n,” The lady - Carol - repeated, as though trialling the name on her tongue to see if it fit. “And what’s your name, hm?” She crouched down to Finns level, and you edged forward on the seat, looking around the room for any sort of weapon in case she tried anything.
“My name’s Finn, Finn L/N”
“It’s nice to meet you Finn, I love your hair, it's very long” She held out her hand, and he took it after examining her for a few seconds. “Nice to meet you too Carol” she smiled at him again and stood to her full height
“Well, y/n, are you alright with walking? I'll show you where the showers are, in the meantime I’ll get those clothes cleaned up for you”
A sad smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she spoke, your eyes glassy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I just… everyone here has been so kind to me’
Carol sighed, helping you to your feet, an arm wrapped carefully around your shoulder.
“Well, we’ve all been in your position, honey.”
You can only nod, lips pulled taut in a straight line as you concentrate on not toppling over Finn or ripping the bandages when stepping out into the hall.
As you turned to look back at the lady, you notice her eyes trailing across your skin.
“I like your tattoos, do them yourself?”
“Some, though it’s pretty hard to do it yourself… most of them are my own designs but done by other people, mainly those I worked with…” having taken a towel and a pile of clean clothes from Carol, Finn asked her where the showers were.
“Just down the hall to the left and then straight on, there should be some shampoo and soap already…”
“Thanks again, c’mon Finn, I'd race you, but I don't think I'm in any shape for running.”
The small boy laughed and reached up to hold your hand, you took it in your own, the towel and clothes tucked under your free arm as you walked with him slowly toward the showers.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
Once you and Finn had finished cleaning up and gotten changed into the fresh clothes Carol had pulled out for you, you paced around the stairs of the cell block and eventually heard someone coming down behind you. It was Carol again, and she seemed a little bit faster with her steps as she locked eyes with you. Finn was busy twiddling his thumbs and trying to make his clothes look more normal by rolling up his sleeves.
“Hey! It's nice seeing you both not covered in all that muck, hand those here honey I’ll get them cleaned for you,” you handed her your, and Finn's clothes and brushed the dried blood and dirt from your palms. You didn’t realize they were that gross. “You guys have met everyone, right?”
You shake your head, “ I don’t know, we met Maggie and Beth briefly, Rick of course… Michonne and Glenn found us, Hershel… the kid- Carl” as you listed off the names (which took you a few seconds to remember) you began to wonder whether you had met everyone. That was a lot of people.
“Oh, well, Daryl is out hunting and Judith can't exactly talk yet…” she picked at the hem of your old shirt before eventually placing them at the bottom of the stairs. “you’ll probably see Axel around as well- he’s the skinny guy with the mustache and light hair, he was apart of a group that was here when we arrived.”
“A prisoner?”
“I guess you could call them that, though I suppose we’re all sort of prisoners now if you think about it”
You nod, huffing as you draw your attention back to the hunter she had mentioned and try not to focus on the fact there were felons (convicted of GOD knows what) living amongst the kind people you had met. It was weird how she talked almost like Axel was a friend and not someone to be suspicious of. Hell, even if they were nice, you couldn’t help but be a little skeptical when showering or when taking off your shirt in front of their doctor.
“I don’t like feeling trapped… like a prisoner”
Carol nodded, smiling at you still. She had a nice smile, a lot of the people here did, although you couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath hers there was a lot of pain. You could see it in her eyes that she was tired.
“That’s great, we kinda need more hunters… food running out and everything, Rick said you’d brought some stuff in with you?”
You nod and call Finn to follow Carol as she makes her way up the stairs and takes you both down the aisle toward a cell on the furthest side, adjacent to the wall.
“Luckily for you, Daryl isn’t all that talkative either” she shrugged, laughing to herself. Part of you wondered whether she was seeing this Daryl person. “But he has a big heart and would die for this group- listen, I don’t know you much yet but I kinda have a feeling you’ll fit in just fine, y/n- and you too, Finn. It’s nice having new faces around, especially when they’re as adorable as yours, little guy”
Carol pinched Finn’s cheek with her forefinger and thumb, to which Finn groaned and blushed pink like he had when Maggie complimented his shirt earlier. You smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, when you said he could pick which bed he wanted, he was off and sat down on one and then the other. Trying to gauge which one was most comfortable. To your surprise, your belongings (minus weapons and food) were already shoved underneath the metal bed frames.
“Thanks again, Carol. For this.”
“Like I said,” she lay a hand on your arm gently, “we’ve all been there.”
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x female reader#twd x reader#Tear You Apart#The Walking Dead#the walking dead fanfic
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weretheones' masterlist<3
personal favourites marked with: ♥
Daryl Dixon
Series
♥ All You Got | ongoing | angst, enemies to lovers | ~50k (so far)
↳ Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4 + mild canon divergence)
"all you got" masterlist
Mini-Series
♥ Gone For Good | completed | angst, lots of protective!daryl | 9k (total)
↳ It was easy to lose hope when everyone around you started dropping like flies. When the flu hit, Daryl saw your optimism drain alongside your health, but it wasn’t until the brutal attack of the Governor that he lost his. After escaping by the skin of your teeth, you’re reminded just how cruel this new world could be. (Season 4)
part 1 | part 2
Try | completed | angst/fluff/implied smut | 14k (total)
↳ Daryl Dixon broke your heart. After the world ended, you found him again, but he’s not the same man who rejected you. (Pre-Series & onward)
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | 18+ ONLY
Oneshots (newest to oldest)
No Rush | smut, porn without plot | 1k
↳ Daryl took his time with you. 18+ ONLY
Good Intentions | holiday fic - fluff | 2k
↳ Daryl was certain something went wrong on that run, it was the only reason why you’d be so late coming back. Until, you proved him wrong. (Season 3-4)
♥ Silver Springs | major angst | 5k
↳ Something has always lingered between you and Daryl, even if the world never settled long enough to let it grow. Four years after Rick’s death, that hasn’t changed, but it doesn’t stop you from seeking him out by that river when Judith gets sick. (Season 9/10)
To The Bone| fluff | 1k
↳ You can’t stop shivering and Daryl can’t fall asleep. (Season 2-3 interim)
Tremble | angst/fluff |5k
↳ When an impromptu run gets Daryl hurt, you tend to his wound. (Season ¾)
♥ Alone | angst/fluff | 4k
↳ The prison cells might have been safe, but after months on the road, you couldn’t sleep. Not alone, at least. (Season 3)
You’re Different | angst/fluff | 3k
↳ A close call pushes Daryl to confess; if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to go without telling you why’d he’d take a bullet for you in the first place, or why, for him, you were so different than anyone else. (Season 3)
Speak Up | fluff | 2k
↳ Daryl had almost given up on confessing his feelings to you, falling victim to his self-doubts and the predictable solace of silence. Then Maggie and Carol opened their big mouths. (Season 5/6)
Observant | fluff | >1k
↳ Daryl only ever heard Merle’s crude flirtations, but even he could think of something better than that guy’s stupid moon line– it only took a little observation. (Season 5)
♥ Doctor’s Orders | angst | 7k
↳ When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time before Daryl noticed too. (Season 4)
♥ Breathe Through It | angst/fluff | 4k
↳ When you come down with the flu, Daryl’s ready to fight through fifty miles of walkers, people– anything to get you those meds. (Season 4)
Heartburn | angst | 6k
↳ After a drunken confession and a gentle rejection, there was only one way to describe how seeing Daryl made you feel. Burned. The two of you grow distant while your wounds still sizzle. Daryl finds himself facing a choice he never expected: let you slip from his grasp or admit his deepest secret. (Season 5/6)
Rick Grimes
Oneshots (newest to oldest)
♥ Untied | angst | 2k
↳ After months of friendship, Rick’s suddenly started avoiding you. You decide enough is enough and confront him. (Season 4)
Rest | angst/fluff | 1k
↳ Some days, it felt like the weight of the world rested on Rick’s shoulders. The night after the farm fell was no exception. (Season 2)
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#rick grimes x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon / reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl / reader#Daryl Dixon / you#daryl / you#rick grimes#rick grimes imagine#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes / reader#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead#twd#twd fanfiction#norman reedus#andrew lincoln
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Stay Here
Are there already hella things like this? yeah, oh well, this is my take on it!
lots of fluff <3
It was a snowy night in December and you and Joe were having a movie marathon. Your friendship began in the 7th grade when Joe stood up for you when you were beginning to get bullied. The friendship only grew from there.
Joe had been in love with you for many years now. Were you a little oblivious? Yes. While in school at UC, you tried to see your childhood friend as much as you could, but life got busy. The time was cherished with Joe.
The second movie that was up was Home Alone. Your favorite thing to do to Joe was make fun of how much he looked like Macaulay Culkin. He absolutely hated it.
"Look, it's little you," you nudged at him with your elbow. He rolled his eyes in response. You were both nuzzled up in your favorite blanket that you kept at Joe's house. The popcorn bowl was sat between the two of you. Your eyes stayed trained on the screen, not noticing the glances Joe was sneaking.
You continued to joke with him, not much space between the two of you as you shared your blanket and the snacks. Joe's hot chocolate ran out, so he sipped some from your mug.
"Joeee, go make yourself more instead of stealing mine," you whined at him.
"Miss ma'am, you're in my house, I can do whatever I please," he smirked back at you, taking another sly sip from your mug.
As Home Alone ended, you decided to get up and check out the window at the state of the outside world. You felt like you were in a snow globe.
"I should probably go, the roads seem to be getting bad," you sighed, slipping on your hoodie.
"Can't you stay for one more?" Joe asked, staring at you with those baby blue eyes.
"You know what, fine. I've driven in this type of weather before," you sighed, sitting back down on the couch. Joe opened the blanket for you to slide under.
He began to pull up The Grinch with Jim Carrey, your favorite. Joe knew that. As the movie continued, you would quote your favorite lines. Joe would turn his head to glare at you, you knew he hated when you would do that, but it was funny to you.
Joe made more popcorn and refilled your water for you, climbing back under the blanket next to you. As the movie progressed, your eyes grew heavy. Joe had moved the now empty popcorn bowl as your head rested on his shoulder. This made his heart flutter. It wasn't uncommon of you to snuggle up to Joe, he knew you were a big cuddler and a normally cold person. Joe was like your human furnace.
Once the movie was finished, you decided to check out the window again. Joe followed you. He was very protective of you starting in the 7th grade and onward.
"I really should go, Joe," you sighed, seeing the snow covered road. You both knew that there was ice under the beautiful blanket of snow.
"Y/N, I'm not letting you drive in this," Joe demanded as you turned around to look at him.
"I promise I'll be fine, I've driven in these conditions plenty of times," you said as you walked past him, heading for the front door.
As you went to put your boots on, Joe held his hand over your small frame and onto the front door, not allowing you to leave.
"Y/N, I said you're not driving in this," he said with a stern tone, a serious look on his face.
"Seriously Joe, I'll be fine," you said, trying to move his arm off the front door.
"I'm not letting you go home in these conditions. Just stay here, I promise it won't kill you," he almost pleaded.
"Fine," you huffed, slipping off your boots after putting in a lot of effort to get them laced up.
"That's what I thought," he stated with a snarky grin on his face.
You headed back over to the couch, laying down with the throw pillow and your blanket.
"I'm not letting you sleep down here alone either. Come to bed," Joe offered out his hand to you. You hesitated, but eventually took it.
You followed Joe up to his bedroom, you could tell his body language was a little bit off. Was he nervous? He seemed to ask you to bed so effortlessly.
When you entered his room, it was nice and tidy. And it smelled good too.
"I have an extra toothbrush, do you wanna use it?" Joe asked as you and you nodded, following him to the bathroom.
He pulled the toothbrush out of the drawer and grabbed his own. He picked up his toothpaste and put some on both of your brushes. You both brushed your teeth at the double vanity, sometimes making eye contact through the mirror.
Once you were both done brushing your teeth, Joe left the bathroom to change. You combed your hair with your fingers and braided it to hope to avoid knots and tangles.
You finished up in the bathroom and walked out to the bedroom to see Joe in his closet, flipping through his clothes. Was he looking for something for you to wear? He know you hated wearing leggings or pants to bed.
"Here hon, wear this to bed so you're not in your outside clothes," Joe said as he tossed you a t-shirt. Lord knows his shorts wouldn't fit you.
You headed back to the bathroom to change, slipping off your hoodie and leggings and sliding into his large t-shirt. Your clothes were discarded onto the floor where they would stay until the morning.
While you and Joe had previously had sleepovers, they never ended up consisting of sharing the same bed. You were almost a little excited.
Joe climbed into bed before you left the bathroom, flipping up the blanket to what he deemed your side. His bedside lamp was on and he looked over to you leaving the bathroom. His heart swelled at the sight of you in his clothes. This wasn't the first time you had worn his clothes before either, but seeing you before getting into bed in his shirt was a feeling he wanted to keep forever.
You climbed into bed and plugged your phone in. What was nice about staying with Joe is that you didn't have a roommate or family in town so you didn't feel the need to text anyone. And, finally not sleeping by yourself was nice.
Laying on your back, you felt Joe stir. You turned your head to see him leaning over to turn off the light. You made sure to take one last glance at his gorgeous, large stature before the light went out.
The moonlight peeking through the window made your skin glow. You were falling asleep quickly, and Joe continued to sneak looks at your resting face.
Joe couldn't fall asleep. His mind was roaming and the fact that you were actually in his bed was mind boggling. And you didn't put up a fight about getting there either. Did you like him back?
Your breaths were consistent, Joe watched your chest lift up and down with each inhale and exhale. He was nervous. But you were asleep, so why should he be nervous? You were obviously comfortable.
Joe was restless and continued to stir. He knew you were a light sleeper, but he just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Joe wanted to hold you tight, but he didn't want to risk ruining your friendship.
"Joey, why are you so restless?" you questioned through the sleepy tone in your voice.
"I dunno," he sighed. He did know. He wanted to hold you and love you forever.
"Talk to me," you said, waking up a little bit.
"You want the truth?" Joe asked.
"Of course I want the truth Joey," you said, looking up at him through your tired eyes.
"I just want to hold you, Y/N" Joe admitted with a bit of shame in his voice.
"Then hold me," you whispered and lifted up the blanket to move toward him. He was almost in shock that you agreed to let him hold you. Although you were a big cuddle bug, he didn't want to overstep.
Joe wrapped his arms around you, finally taking in a deep breath. You were snuggled into his chest as his arms wrapped around you. You were excited that he was finally holding you the way you had dreamed of for years.
"Okay, I have to be honest," Joe began as he sighed a shaky breath, "I love you, and not just as a friend, Y/N" he held his breath.
"Oh Joe, I don't know what to say," you said. You could feel his breath hitch. "I love you too, and not just as a friend," you admitted. You felt him release the breath he was holding.
"Really?" he questioned with hope in his voice.
"Yes really. I have for a while but I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship," you spoke into his chest as he pulled you closer than ever.
Joe moved his hand to your chin, pulling it up to look at him in his pretty blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight.
You inched closer, and Joe followed suit.
Your lips finally connected after what felt like an eternity. His lips were so soft, softer than you had ever imagined. He was gentle with you, holding a long and sweet kiss to your lips. All you ever wanted to do was love Joe as more than just a friend. Your dreams were finally coming true, and so were his.
"Y/N, I really do love you and I want you to be mine. Would you be my girlfriend? If it's too soon, that's okay too," he said, his nerves rising again.
You nodded at him, "I thought you'd never ask," you smiled up at him, connecting your lips again. You could feel him smile into the kiss. Your heart fluttered at the realization that you had an official title.
Joe held you close into his chest as you relaxed and breathed in his smell. His body relaxed into yours. His restlessness left his body once you were officially his.
Sleep filled both of your love filled bodies. The future danced in both of your minds as you fell into the best sleep you had in years.
----
this ended up so much cuter than I hoped omg <3
#joe burrow#joe burrow imagine#bengals quarterback#joe burrow fic#joe sheisty#bengals#nfl imagine#nfl#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow blurb#joe burrow oneshot#soft#feelings#joey b
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Forever's hands are shaking. They are shaking, and shaking, and everyone is still gone. He reaches for the bottle, and finds nothing there.
A hand takes his instead, strangely gentle for all their fighting these last few days.
"Cellbit?"
"The others are waiting for us; come home."
Forever is tired and cold and angry and he wants to snap, to scream, to fight. The clock is ticking, the timer is running-
Cellbit tugs him onwards, towards the Favela, towards the place that has not been home on so long.
Richarlyson is still gone, of course, and Forever's fingers flutter to his bag again; Cellbit holds both of his hands now. Felps has passed out on a sofa, covered in stone dust and flung over a curled up Pac, who is watching them both with dead eyes.
If only he would -
No, no, they took their son, their fifth, they keep both from them. The happier road is easier, but it will damn them all. Everyone wants hope and leadership from their fucking President, but he has only drug induced joy or world-ending terror left to him.
Forever barely hears Pac's "I'm sorry" as he untangle himself from Felps' sprawl, but he cannot do anything but notice when he is grabbed. Forever panics for a moment, time running faster than ever, before realising he has been pulled into a desperate hug.
Cellbit, too, is being clung to with Pac's other arm.
"Dont leave me," there are no tears, but Pac's voice remains haunted, broken. "Neither of you. I can't- just stay. Family again?"
"We always were," Cellbit says, and Forever has no idea how he is so confident about that, or even if he knows what family means. "And we're back now."
The click is tic tic ticking. Ticking down until it's too late, far too late to save Richarlyson, to find Mike. Soon there will be nothing left. He must-
"Forever?"
"There's too many people missing. I can't-" Cellbit squeezes his hand, and Forever takes a breath. "We don't have /time/."
"We don't have anything but time, that's the problem." Cellbit has somehow slipped the hug, and is dragging the pair towards the sofa. "We're going to drag Felps down with us, and we're going to sleep, and in the morning we're going to come up with a plan to get our family back."
"And blow up the Feds." Pac adds, a little seething anger creeping into his tone for just a moment.
"And blow up the federation," Cellbit agrees, something calmer, older, viscous in his tone just a moment. "We will show them why they shouldn't break our family."
Forever wants to do it now, would question why they can't but for the slow realisation of how pale his family is, skin drawn tight and their hands are shaking too. He cannot fix this, he cannot fix anything, he is a puppet on a string and the clock is ticking ticking tick-
Pac lets go, dropping into the pile of blankets and clothes which once made up the Favela Five's bed. They have been six, now they are only four.
Second later, Cellbit pushes Forever down into them too, before yanking Felps from the sofa and into the mess. Pac pulls the two around as he wants, Forever elbowing him when he tugs too hard, while Cellbit sets up security cameras, alert systems, and locks the door.
And then hesitates.
"I should-"
If Forever is being forced into this, then Cellbit must be too. Forever musters up a glare, demanding him into the sleepover pile.
"-... take off my shoes," Cellbir fiddles with his communicator a little first, before kicking off said shoes. There is a brief argument between Pac and Cellbit about the former's prosthetic and taking it off to sleep, which Forever only listens to enough to drown out the ever ticking clock.
They come to a decision, he does not really care which, and then Cellbit is clambering in too. The most obvious absence is Richarlyson, replaced by a pillow Cellbit shoves into Forever's arms, but Mike's is felt too; Pac has his back to the wall and hugs Forever from behind, not his back to Forever and holding onto Mike on the edge of their mess. Cellbit and Felps have always moved dependent on who comes to bed first or last; tonight, despite Felps being long asleep, they are a tangle of clawing limbs both of which cling to Forever's arms.
The clock doesn't leave, and the absences are still felt, but it is quieter. Or perhaps drowned out, by his family's breath on his neck and hands on his skin, and the tangle of limbs quickly tightening in the eternal struggle for the most comfortable position.
Forever isn't sure anyone but Felps will actually get any sleep tonight, not fractured and splintered as they are, but... perhaps in each others arms is the best chance they have.
Perhaps in each other is the only chance they have.
#qsmp fanfic#qsmp forever#qsmp cellbit#qsmp tazercraft#qsmp felps#ficlet#hallucinations tw#this is probably as much as I can interact with what's going on with Forever atm but please take this#Favela four all get hugs#(Theres very very obvious holes)#They're all doing their best and they're all a mess#One way or another they got forever off the federation pills but he still wants the mental pain to stop#And they were good at that#This is more comfort than hurt so details are sparce
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Dude I absolutely adore your Sephiroth angst fics, they're such good reads! I was wanting to request some angst with him around the Nibelheim Incident, his s/o accompanies him but ends up on the fire and he realises at the last second if thats a decent idea. Thank you again for all the quality fics :D
Thank you so much, it's always awesome to hear ppl lovin' them! I'm so psyched that people are finally requesting more Sephiroth 😁 Here you go and please enjoy.
Hold on (Sephiroth x Reader angst)
You had arrived at Nibelheim far later than Sephiroth and the others as Shinra, for some reason, had decided to put you in a separate truck and send you to join them at a later date. That, combined with the fact that the truck was overrun by monsters halfway through the trip, delayed you even furter, though that didn't stop you from coming up with a way to turn a disappointing situation into a happy one. You intended to surprise Sephiroth with your unexpected arrival, but unfortunately, you happened to set foot past Nibelheim's gate at the worst time imaginable.
You couldn't believe your eyes when you got there; the entire town and the woods surrounding it was on fire. Tall, bright orange and red flames shot up from the treeline, iluminating the sky with an ominous amber glow, meanwhile, terrified villagers ran out of their smoldering homes, scrambling for the path that led down to the road where they hoped they would be safe. Others were desperately trying to escape exhausted militiamen trying to guide them to safety, their terrified minds fixated on freeing a trapped or long dead family member crushed under the rubble.
As you beheld the scene, your mind grew frantic and began to spin with questions. What happened here? Where did this massive fire come from? Where were the SOLDIERS? Why weren't they helping the civilians? More importantly, what about Sephiroth, was he alright?
Panicking, you raced into town, ignoring the loud warnings of the rescue volunteers as they tried to keep you from rushing into your doom. You sped through the village, leaping over crackling logs and ducking falling planks of wood. The billowing gray smoke stung your eyes and burned your lungs, drying out your throat and making the simple act of breathing very difficult. Choking and hacking, you continued further into the blazing town square, soon arriving in the center of the smoldering village, where you were met with a collapsed water tower that burned just as brightly as the many crumbling homes around you.
"Sephiroth!" You screamed, voice hoarse and cracking. "Where are you?!" Shouting was a grave mistake. Your already irritated throat burned with the effort, causing you to double over, coughing so violently, you saw stars.
The flames were rising even higher now, to the point that the world seemed to be trapped in a cage of red and orange streaks. It would have been beautiful, had the smoke emanating from these flames not been choking you to death.
You were starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy and your knees were quivering fiercely, a sign you wouldn't last much longer. You were now faced with two choices: you could either stumble back out of town, and join the fleeing civilians, or continue onward in your search for Sephiroth.
Of course you chose the latter; how could you live with yourself if you didn't?
"Sephiroth!" You cried, again, still pushing forward despite your shaking knees. "Where are you?!" You suddenly tripped over a rock, hitting the dirt much harder than you expected. Your bones ached; they were probably badly bruised now, but that didn't stop you from continuing to claw at the dirt in a vain attempt to stand, key word being "attempt". Your limbs, which felt like wobbly twigs, gave out without much resistance. You crumbled to the ground once again and lay there as scorching hot walls of fire spiraled out of control all around you.
There was so much smoke now, it made your stomach churn and breathing painful. You knew you weren't going to last much longer, but what could you do to save yourself? You couldn't even move. Tears began to well up in your burning eyes and slide down your cheeks as fear and worry overwhelmed you. It didn't matter what happened to you; all you wanted was to know Sephiroth was safe.
As if the universe were answering your plea, you faintly caught sight of a pair of black combat boots slowly trooping across the scorched ground.
"Sephiroth?" You rasped, voice barely audible over the crackling of burning wood.
"This cannot be...Y/N?" The pair of black boots hurried towards you with speed you'd never witnessed before. In seconds, the silver-haired male was at your side, strong, gloved hands gently lifting you up and turning you over. Your hazy, smoke-clouded eyes blinked at him slowly as you struggled to focus on his worried face and those beautiful, yet strangely sad green eyes that were so intently focused on you.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The longer you looked at him the more you realized how different he seemed. There were dark shadows under his eyes; shadows you don't remember seeing. There was also a strange, almost insane gleam to his eyes, like a light shining at the end of a dark hallway.
"Sorry I'm a little late," You chuckled, coughing. "Surprise."
"You fool." Sephiroth mumbled, shaking his head at you. A few locks of his long, soft hair fell over his shoulder and cascaded onto the ground, the shimmering silver a stark contrast with the dark, scorched ground.
"Why did you come all this way? You should have remained at the entrance, or left. You know it isn't safe." You shook your head, smiling.
"I...wanted to...make sure....you're...ok..." You reached up and gripped his hand as tightly as you could; your head was getting lighter and lighter and you needed something to ground you.
"You...were concerned? For me?" Sephiroth sounded as if he couldn't believe you cared about him, which was odd because you always showed and told him you did.
"Of course..." You replied, realizing how hard speaking was growing. "I love you...why...wouldn't I be concerned?"
"Don't you know what I am?" Sephiroth asked, shaking you slightly. "Do you not understand with whom you are conversing?"
"You're...the love of....my life, Seph...that's...good enough...for me..." You punctuated your words with another series of violent coughs. Sephiroth could see your already labored breathing was worsening and could tell by the way you were squinting that your eyes burned so much you couldn't keep them open. When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, he felt true fear for the first time in his life.
"No, no, no, no, no, don't let go. Do not let go. Hold on to me. I...I will get you to safety." He was breathing heavily himself, his heart pounding in his hands. This wasn't supposed to happen. You shouldn't have come here. He couldn't lose you, not here, not anywhere. He refused to lose you. He was the Chosen One, come to reclaim the Planet, and you--you were to be his beloved bride. He couldn't lose you here, he refused to even consider the possibility!
"I can't hold on," You whispered, shaking your head weakly. "I...I'm slipping..." Your vision blurred, but you were vaguely aware of something warm and wet falling onto your face--tears, perhaps?
"Please...don't go...I need you," Sephiroth said, voice brittle, grip around your hand tightening. "Hold on. Please."
"I can't," You repeated, feeling consciousness starting to fading away; the sensation akin to falling asleep. "I'm sorry...I...just...want you to know...I love...you."
Your entire body had gone numb and cold now; you couldn't see and your throat hurt too much for you to even talk. It was a good thing your vision had left you, because it meant you couldn't see the horrified, pained expression plastered on Sephiroth's face as he desperately tried to keep you awake--but his efforts were in vain. You were gone.
#Ff7#Ffvii#Final fantasy 7#Final fantasy vii#ff7 sephiroth#ffvii sephiroth#final fantasy 7 sephiroth#final fantasy vii sephiroth#sephiroth x reader#Ff7 sephiroth x reader#ffvii sephiroth x reader#Final fantasy 7 sephiroth X reader#Fanfic#Angst#Angst fanfic#Angst with a sad ending#Tw: death#Tw: dying#Requested#Thanks for requesting#icycoldninja writes#Sad fanfic#Ff7 angst
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Reverse Trope Writing Prompt Summaries
I've seen these reverse trope prompts going around and they seem so funny, I've decided to write one. I'll list a bunch of little summaries and then do a poll to vote on one.
Too many beds! When Deuce gets the opportunity to visit Clock Town with his friends, he excitedly tells his mother all his friends will be joining him. He later discovers that only his wild pal the Prefect will join him. Too embarrassed to admit to his mother that the large hotel rooms she rented was for nothing, they decide to have such a wild party that no one will ever guess that there were too many beds!
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss. You've just discovered that the animal shelter in your town is being closed so that a local restaurant run by a shady (rumored to be mafia) boss can open a branch location. You've seen a teal-haired menacing man going into the place with his timid looking secretary. On impulse, you decide to grab the secretary and use his life for leverage to get the mafia to give up their plan. Little do you realize the bashful gentleman you've kidnapped is actually the famous Don Azul himself.
Real nice guy who hates only you. There was a time when you remember actually wanting to be Silver's friend. That was before you got to know the residents of Diasomnia better. Now, it seems like every sleepover or breakfast date you have with your new bestie Lilia only makes the gentle Silver strike out at you in a ball of jealous rage. Just what is his problem with you?
Academic rivals except it's two teachers who compete to have the best class. Crowley brags about how he is clearly the best teacher on campus. Why, when he teaches class, the students never fail to gain a perfect score! Ha, he is so magnificent! Perhaps he should just take over teaching full time and let Crewel do the annual government audit instead, ha ha! To which Crewel replies, Hell no. The competition to prove themselves most worthy teacher (and avoid the audit) is on!
Divorce of Convenience. Marriage to Ruggie was everything you thought it would be; a tough life but it had its perks. Your hubby Ruggie always had an ear out to opportunity for his small family. That's why, when he told you about the new low income housing for unmarried residents he found, you couldn't rule it out. One quicky divorce later, you are now on the road to financial security...that is if you can convince the straight-laced inspector Jack that you truly are nothing more than the roommates you pretend to be.
True hate's kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse). You've become the assistant to Vil in order to make extra cash. One day, in a series of mishaps, Vil ends up drinking a cup of tea cursed with his Unique Magic that caused him to lose his voice. With an important interview coming up, it up to you to convince the proud Vil to travel to Royal Sword and ask his eternal rival Neige for a kiss to break the spell.
Dating your enemy's sibling. After a huge fight, your former pal Ace is now your worst enemy. You can't stop thinking about that fight and how you (maybe) didn't quite win it. The whole thing just makes you hungry for revenge. You spent a lot of time thinking of the perfect way to get under Ace's skin when you see a post on Magicam of Ace's older brother working his theme park job. Suddenly, you have the wildest idea on who you want to bring to the campus dance.
Love Triangle where the two love interests get together instead. No one was more invested in being a fan of Vil Schoenheit then you, the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm. Unless, it was your rival fan Rook. Vil is thoroughly fed up with you both. He announces that, from tomorrow onward, only one of you will be allowed to accompany him to class and help him at lunch. You now have one night to prove to Rook that your admiration of Vil surpasses his own. As the night goes on, you discover the allure of being totally in sync with another super fan. Can your love for Vil survive his ultimate fan?
Too hot to cuddle. There is a heatwave happening at NRC and the air conditioning magic is broke all over campus. It wouldn't be much of an issue except your dating notorious cuddler Leona Kingscholar. You've turned him down for a nap in the sweltering botanical gardens and denied him from resting his head on your sweaty lap in Savanahclaw. Will your clever boyfriend find a solution or be driven mad by the frustration?
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all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 2 - a. sharp x reader
for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him.
or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of – part two baby!
A/N: Part Two of what was supposed to be a single, short and smutty one shot of my recent fictional obsession: Professor Sharp. Part two is where the breeding kink 'finally' hits – apologies in advance. I haven't written smut in quite a while and I shockingly have never published any before. The depravity was strong with this one and I sincerely hope my mother never finds this. I may be in my twenties but she'd still ship me off to a convent if she did.
Please remember that this takes place during Victorian Times – Women were not nearly as educated as we are today on Sex and Pleasure. MC is a virgin – so she might come off as slightly naive/dumb at times. It's all consensual tho, don't worry.
Thank you again to @legacygirlingreen for enabling me & being my number one supporter on the road to hell. I couldn't have done this without you (seriously, you were a saint) 🤪💚
This one is for you 💚
To everyone reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻 This was a first.
Part Two is the 'final' (as if this wasn't supposed to be a one shot either way lol) - however if someone enables me enough, part three is always a possibility.
That said; please don't enable me 💀
Onwards now; I have promised @fizzlewick a Regency/Pride and Prejudice AU! with our favourite Potions Professor as Mr. Darcy.
FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour
CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Victorian attitudes towards Sex, Smut (18+, MDNI - lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Cockwarming, Accidental Virginity Kink
Word Count (Part 2): 15.5k (again - this escalated)
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/123361243
Part One: Click here
For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible even for someone like him.
She loved him.
She. Loved. HIM.
It was a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again, never quite believing that this wasn't some sick and twisted dream he would wake up from. But it wasn't a dream, and the extraordinary woman he had fallen in love with, had fallen for him too. He fell asleep with her in his arms every night since that night, his room practically vacant, only for him to return to in the early morning to get dressed and prepare himself for the day ahead, and each morning he fell in love all over again – her face aglow in the morning light. It was bliss. Pure and delicious bliss.
They had kept their newfound romance largely private, restricted to lingering touches when nobody could see and the small reprieve her hut could offer, though Aesop suspected that their colleagues knew. At the very least, they presumed their dynamic had shifted, even if they did not know to which extent. His love hadn't even told Eleazar, which surprised Aesop, given that the man truly was like a father to her (and a much better one at that, too), but it made their love all the more sacred. If ever Aesop paid Dinah any attention over dinner, he could spot her knowing smirk, carefully hidden behind her goblet, but it was there even if she never outright said anything.
His mood had much improved, no longer weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of unrequited love and the lingering 'What if?' – her smile and scent no longer torturous but a source of comfort and longing. He still wondered what she saw in him, but the devotion she looked at him with let him believe that this could be forever. Selfishly he let himself dream of days in the English countryside, hidden away in cottages from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but if selfishness was what this yearning was, Aesop would let himself be a greedy glutton, for he never wished to miss her presence in his life again.
"You think too much," she mumbled, curled into his chest as the sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, filling her hut with a glowing orange light.
"I think too much?" he smiled down at her, her eyes still closed in bliss, his masculine scent of firewhiskey and sandalwood enveloping her senses. He had heard that one before.
"Mhm," she hummed, opening her tired eyes to look up at his, his hair still dishevelled and unkempt. "I can almost hear your brooding."
"Apologies, my lady," he jested. "I will be careful to not disturb your beauty sleep any further."
"I will hold you to it", she sighed, falling into his warm embrace, wholly content. "A gentleman should stay true to his word."
"I'm hardly a gentleman," Aesop chuckled lowly. "For if I was, I would not be in your bed without a ring on your finger and a shared last name."
He could see a blush spreading on her cheeks, a timid look of amusement gracing her gentle features. "Perhaps not," she expressed, "but I recall you calling yourself my husband a while ago."
"To defend your honour," the potions master retorted lowly, still enraged whenever someone brought up her unfortunate family. Her father was as equally exasperating as Phineas Black – a herculean task in Aesop's mind, and he had only met the guy for but a single moment.
"How gallant of you," (Y/N) snickered, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "I have been irredeemable in his eyes the very second I boarded the carriage to Hogwarts."
"Hm..." Aesop mumbled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the soft lock between his calloused fingers. "Forgive my sharp tongue, but I do not believe I give a single fuck as to what that poor excuse of a man thinks. And neither should you, my love."
"Aesop Cyril Sharp!" his beloved gasped, accompanied by a light slap on his chest. "What a poor choice of words in front of a lady."
Aesop's chest rumbled with laughter, his arms tightening around (Y/N) as she grinned up at him, his heart jumping with glee. They held each other, content as the world around them slowly awoke from its slumber – a new day signalling its commencement. It was a moment of serenity, a place nobody but them existed before they would soon go about their days again, following their routines as they needed to, sharing the glances of secret lovers before their rather clandestine encounters at night would reunite them once more – and Aesop was already counting down the hours, waiting until his love was in his arms again.
"You'll have to sneak back to the castle soon," the young woman in his arms sighed, a dejected pout on her lips.
"I feel like a whippersnapper," Aesop groaned. "Surreptitiously wandering about the grounds."
She giggled gleefully again, pressing herself into his chest. "You are my whippersnapper then."
Aesop's heart jumped again, overfilling with love and boastful pride at the determinative she had used— My whippersnapper.
"Indeed I am," he sighed contently, pressing a kiss atop her head, inhaling her saccharine scent as her hair tickled his nose.
Wistfully Aesop rose from his comforting and warm position on the bed, hissing as his leg protested the movement. Some days it hurt worse than others – today looked to be a rather grim day, even if the days had become warmer again. She was at his side in a second, her arms wrapped around his middle in comfort.
"Do you need me to get you your potion? Or anything else?"
"No," Aesop pressed out, clenching his teeth for a second before he released a shuddering breath, massaging his leg with disdain. He felt as if a perfectly fine morning had been ruined – another reminder that he was wholly inadequate when the woman behind him was not. She only hummed, letting her nimble small hands trace his arms in a soothing motion before pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck. He stood up with careful steps after a while, avoiding too much pressure on his blasted leg.
As he swiftly exchanged his nightshirt for the suit he had worn yesterday, he could hear (Y/N) bustling in the main room of her hut, likely preparing a cup of tea for him as she usually did before he left. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey fills his nose; the cup appearing in front of him with a tiredly smiling (Y/N) as he gratefully took the cup from her, perfectly warm and not too hot. She traced patterns on his arm as he greedily drank from the cup, the warmth filling his body and providing a strange relief to his leg, reducing the pain to a bearable thrumming.
"Did you put something in here?" Aesop asked, his eyebrow raised.
"Perhaps," she tilted her head with a sly grin. "Did it help?"
"It...did," He avowed, placing the cup on the nightstand before pulling her into his arms.
"Whenever I had a second to spare, I tried to brew on my own," her fingertips still danced over his arms. "You do not have to do this alone anymore, Aesop."
"I do not need your pity," he frowned, though he kept his arms around her waist in a protective embrace. Humiliation coursed through him at her admittance – he was incomplete, crippled. Whatever did she want with him? Surely someone more capable would be able to give her much more, even if the mere thought of her in the arms of someone else asphyxiated him like –
"I know you do not," she smiled, interrupting his train of thought. "Would you let me suffer if I were in pain from a curse?"
"Of course not," Aesop brisked, incensed at the mere thought. "I would not want you suffering needlessly."
"Then do not expect me to sit by idly for you," she whispered, pulling him down by the lapel of his coat. "My foolish whippersnapper."
His lips met hers with a pleased hum, his beard scratching her soft skin, undoubtedly leaving a slight burn.
Perhaps Aesop could truly be selfish – because if the gods above blessed him with the celestial woman in his arms, nothing but believing that reprieve was possible for someone like him was imaginable.
When the weather got even warmer, and June approached them, final exams were soon to be held – as they were every year. Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves busier than ever; their time spent together dwindled to a minimum, which left Aesop rather frustrated most days. More often than not, Aesop had to spend his nights preparing odd brews his students would need to identify, never mind the endless amounts of Invigoration and Calming Draughts Madam Blainey requested at an alarming rate. In any case, Aesop felt like he was drowning in work – a common occurrence towards the end of the school – so it was a welcome distraction when he was forced to leave the dungeons for just a day, even if the trip he needed to take was all but a requirement for him to continue his brewing in the first place.
Aesop's potion supplies were dwindling at a quick pace, and neither his love nor Mirabel were able to keep up with the demand; thus, he found himself forced to take a trip to Feldcroft. Bernard Ndiaye was able to provide Aesop with a few of the missing ingredients, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, his love and he took the short trip to Feldcroft, a village she had unfortunately only gotten to know under less than cheerful circumstances. Ever since she had successfully fought Ranrok and his rebellion, the hamlet, which had nearly been in ruins once, had been rebuilt and was now a flourishing and quaint place filled with life and many small families.
"I used to think this place was right out of a storybook," she chirped next to him, their arms intertwined as they walked through the Scottish Highlands, approaching Feldcroft with idle steps. The warm weather and the potion (Y/N) had brewed provided enough alleviation for Aesop to promenade for a short while – it was not a cure, nor a long-term solution to his predicament, but like their newfound romance, it was a new dawn.
"Is that so?" Aesop asked, looking down at her. "Well, they certainly owe you for their...liberation."
"I can hardly take all the credit," she waved him off, rosy blush on her cheeks. "They have done exceptionally well ever since Ranrok's loyalists have all but fled."
"Yes, well, and who is to credit for that? Remind me?"
"I do not know what you are talking about?" she grinned at him now, aware of how much her stories from her fifth year rattled him. Or, in Aesop's words, how much they would 'turn him grey before his time'.
"I believe the Order of Merlin that has been bestowed upon your name would beg to differ," he grunted.
"And it is rotting away in Eleazar's home – I have washed my hands of it a long time ago."
"Proudly displayed, no doubt."
"On the mantle of the fireplace," she affirmed with a desolate groan. "I have tried to convince him to burn it – his efforts have been largely in vain."
"He is exceptionally proud of you," Aesop explained with newfound kindness. "After Miriam died, he was... in a rather dark place. The rest of us staff were worried, which is why Matilda persuaded Black to send Eleazar your way when the Book spat out your name."
"Oh," she mumbled. "I never knew."
"You do know they never had children. To him, you are like his own."
"As he is like my father," she nodded absentmindedly. "I owe everything to him."
"A notion I'm confident he shares. So let him display that blasted Order – you are his greatest joy."
She did not argue with him; a slight nod was her only agreement. Aesop once again noticed how much smaller than him she was; the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. In his mind, she fit into his side like a perfect puzzle piece.
Ndiaye now had a small shop instead the cart (Y/N) remembered from years ago, the place flourishing with the various plants and beast products that littered the business. Ndiaye, much like everyone else, recognised (Y/N) immediately, and Aesop was yet another step closer to grey hair upon hearing the story of how she recklessly risked her life – all for two crates of Chomping Cabbages. Mirabel would have been proud; Aesop was convinced of it.
When they exited his shop, by-products in hand and arms intertwined again, they were intercepted by none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.
"(Y/N)? Professor Sharp?!" the former Slytherin resident troublemaker exclaimed, bewildered, jogging up to the trio with large steps. His eyes did not leave their joined arms – looking at the couple like they had grown an extra head. He had grown up, no longer a chubby-faced teenager but a man with a sharp jawline, a full beard and broad shoulders; the only boyish thing remaining his flocculant and unkempt hair. Aesop still towered over him, unsurprisingly. He was exceptionally tall, after all.
"Sebastian!" his love exclaimed, freeing herself from Aesop's side to happily hug her closest friend – even if she seemed slightly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the Cotswolds?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian teased with a sly grin, his eyes going back and forth between Aesop and her. "But truthfully, we're here because Anne wanted to meet Estelle."
'We're'? 'Estelle'? Aesop thought, befuddled – a sentiment his paramour did not share.
"Oh, I am so sorry I haven't come to visit!" she apologised profusely. "But Exams have been utterly crazy – we've hardly had any time to do much aside from grading and preparing."
Sebastian only waved her off with a content smile. "Don't fret – we used the time to acclimate to our lives now."
"I can only imagine," she chuckled. "Who would have thought? You, Mr Capital R Rake, Sebastian Sallow, would be the first of our group of misfits to marry and father a child?"
Ah, so this was what their conversation had been about. Of course – Aesop remembered now. (Y/N) had been quite affronted, if not downright disappointed, when Sebastian had kept his marriage and impending fatherhood a secret for months. When he timely announced the birth of his daughter, a child they had named Estelle, his love was over the moon for him and his wife and wouldn't stop talking about visiting the two.
Sebastian chuckled, his smile proud as he puffed out his chest. "Not me, that I'm sure of. Would you like to meet her? I'm confident Megan wouldn't mind."
"I would love to," she agreed, turning around to face Aesop. "Would you mind?"
"No, of course not," Aesop shook his head. "Shall I head back to the castle then?"
"Such a silly man," she giggled, grabbing his hand and masterfully ignoring the comically wide-eyed stare of Sebastian. "You must beat Ominis at his game of being the favourite uncle."
"When did this happen?!" he finally asked, looking as if he were ready to burst.
"February," (Y/N) admitted bashfully, wrapping her arm around Aesop's with a rosy smile. "We've been keeping it under our hats mostly."
"And you were mad I kept my marriage a secret?!" Sebastian sounded affronted, evidently not believing what he was witnessing.
"That's different. We're courting. Unlike someone here, I would not keep my marriage or motherhood a secret."
"That's not – Merlin, he's our old potions professor."
"I may be handicapped, Mr Sallow, but I can assure you, I can hear quite well," Aesop interjected, though he could not deny the happiness that surged in his heart upon his sweetheart admitting that they were courting to one of her dearest friends. She wasn't ashamed of him.
"We are colleagues, Sebastian. Equals," (Y/N) added, her tone leaving no room for any argument to be made. "In any case, you should be showing me, my niece, right now."
"This isn't over," Sebastian mumbled as he led them towards his aged childhood home, which his twin had settled in with her own partner, a travelling merchant from a nearby hamlet.
Aesop hadn't seen Anne Sallow for years, not since she had been cursed. He remembered her to be the ringleader of trouble before she left Hogwarts due to her unfortunate ailment, and while she had never found a cure for it, (Y/N) ending the reign of terror and life of Victor Rookwood – the man who had cursed her – enabled her to live a without day to day debilitating pain.
She was just as stunned as Sebastian had been upon hearing of their relationship, but she still chatted with her former professor, even if the conversation was entirely awkward. Aesop endured for her sake mostly, and it was worth it – nothing would ever make him forget the sheer and utter joy on his love's face when she held her tiny 'niece' in her arms.
Aesop was astonished at how such a wee little thing was able to tear such a starstruck and enchanted smile from a person – he was sure (Y/N) had never smiled as big. He watched as she cooed over little Estelle, her smile blinding as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms, carefully supporting her back and neck. She looked like she had done this a million times, positively natural, and Aesop didn't know whether it was her or him, but his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing precisely this with their kids. When he was younger, he hadn't ever thought of kids, perhaps only as a natural consequence of marriage and marital relations and after his accident, he had written the prospect off entirely. No woman wanted a cripple, much less one as a father to possible children. Now, though, he had a woman who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and she was young and had even admitted to wanting children. Perhaps they were a possibility after all?
"Aesop?" his beloved turned her attention towards him. "Isn't she just precious?"
"Certainly," Aesop agreed though he did not mean the baby – which was bound to be precious nonetheless. He could not help the smirk that graced his face upon catching Sebastian Sallow's indignant expression.
"You should hold her too," Megan, Sebastian's wife, suddenly suggested, a curious glance on her face.
"I really think I shouldn't," he chuckled upon seeing Sebastian Sallow's face contort strangely. Poor lad would likely never get used to it.
"No, please do," Megan, the wife of Sallow, smiled at him. "Ignore my husband - he's a little thickheaded."
"A little?!" Anne and (Y/N) giggled in unison, promptly ignoring the sound of indignance Sebastian let out.
"Excuse me for being confused over this...," he waved around wildly with his hands, "situation."
"Oh, please. Get over it," Megan rolled her eyes, a teasing grin on her face. "Besides, if our daughter is anything like us, having teachers in her corner will be a godsend when she inevitably gets into trouble at Hogwarts."
"Oh, so this is where it's coming from," Aesop shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't play favourites."
"You will," Megan winked conspiratorially, beckoning him to introduce little Estelle. With her delicate arms and gentle touch, (Y/N) placed the little girl in his arms, smiling at him as he held her; though he was not quite as natural as she was, the tiny thing held awkwardly in his arms. The baby was asleep, so he couldn't view her eyes, but if he had to, Aesop reckoned Estelle resembled her father far more than she did her mother. It made him stop and think about what his children would look like, and instantly, he wished, prayed, they would look like her.
"Not so bad after all, am I right, Bash?" Megan playfully jested, watching the disdain on her husband's face. "Even if our daughter looks positively tiny in those arms."
"She is tiny," Sebastian remarked. "And in any case, this is weird. (Y/N) you do know I thought him to be a git?"
"Sebastian!" Megan and (Y/N) gasped simultaneously, though Aesop could only snort in amusement.
"I wholeheartedly believed you to be one of my more promising students, Mister Sallow," Aesop admitted, his eyebrow raised as Sebastian looked at him with surprise. "If you had applied yourself a little more instead of recklessly breaking the rules and surging into things without even considering any consequence, I might have been less...stern with you."
"I do not surge into things without considering the consequences," Sebastian retorted with affronted indignance – the woman in the room now chortling with mirth.
"Oh no," Megan giggled. "That is precisely why you were cursed in that blasted tomb of the two lovers and thus experienced...ehem... heightened...carnal pleasure."
If Aesop had been a man to blush, he likely would have. Sebastian Sallow undoubtedly was. His love was, too, averting her gaze from anyone and anything – a ferocious blush on her cheeks.
"That was one time," he yapped, his arms crossed in front of him.
"Of course," Megan rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the woman beside her. "He was ready to deflower me in that very same tomb. We undoubtedly have to devise a sweeter story about our first meeting if Estelle ever asks."
"Agreed," Sebastian cleared his throat.
"That's really Sebastian, though," his love chuckled, blush still on her cheeks as she focused on the little babe in Aesop's arms, gently stroking her head in a motherly fashion. "I, for one, can recall a very similar event involving a goblin mine."
Aesop was certain his old heart would give out soon, for this was bound to be yet another tale of her recklessly, foolishly risking her life. She had an affinity for it, no doubt. The words 'goblin mine' were enough to fill him with terror and astonishment – He did not understand how she had survived this long.
"Do I want to know?" Aesop asked with a groan, eliciting a giggle from her.
"No," she shook her head with a wink. "No, you really don't."
"I, for one, agree," Sebastian shuddered. "I am not keen on getting slaughtered by an ex-auror today."
"Oh, Aesop is not that sinister," his love giggled.
"Oh no, I am," Aesop interjected with a threatening smile. "I may have been out of the field for over a decade, but best believe I can still make it look like an accident. I promised your...father," the word spat from his tongue, "as much."
"Your father?" Sebastian asked, his tone worried and, dare Aesop say, alarmed? "What..."
"I don't wish to talk about it," (Y/N) waved him off hurriedly. "Aesop dealt with him more than I did."
"Did he now?" Sebastian mused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he regarded Aesop with a little less disdain and horror.
Aesop did not count the minutes or hours they stayed at the former Sallow residence. It had been a pleasant change from the frenzied and fully engulfing pre-examination environment at the castle, the atmosphere joyful with little Estelle, even when she had briefly awoken and promptly shown off her impressively large lung. When he and his love were finally leaving, the sun was setting on the horizon, casting a beautifully orange glow over the Scottish Highlands, a warm summer breeze carrying the slightly salty air from the sea.
"Sharp?" Sebastian Sallow lowly called out to him as Megan and (Y/N) said their goodbyes, the latter cooing at the tiny baby in Megan's arms, seemingly not wishing to part from her at all.
"Yes?" Aesop sighed, his leg starting to ache and his mood souring as he remembered how much he would have to brew throughout the night.
"Did you truly meet her father?"
Aesop was surprised, though he tried not to let it show. Sebastian had been her friend for many years; perhaps he knew more than Aesop did, the issue of her father still one she avoided most days – not even considering the simple fact that she saw Eleazar as hers in any case.
"We did," he affirmed with a curt nod. "Dratted meater if you'd ask me."
"I can't say I ever had the displeasure of meeting the man," Sebastian scoffed. "But if you truly took care of him in her place, then...I suppose I should thank you.
Aesop only raised his eyebrow.
"She is akin to family for me and wholly responsible for me standing here at all. For being able to have a family – my daughter. What I am trying to convey, I suppose, is please take care of her."
"You have my word."
A week passed and then another, both in a similar manner as the others before had; their time largely spent apart during the days as they prepared their students for their final exams and OWLs and NEWTS. Yet when the sun had gone down, and the stars were glittering like a million diamonds over the castle, Aesop found himself precisely where he longed to be: in her home, her in his arms or next to him on the comfortable armchairs, the world around them away far enough for just a while. When in her hut, surrounded by warmth and the feeling of 'home', his thoughts cleared miraculously, no longer filled with exams and potions and students that likely would never achieve anything beyond a 'poor'.
Megan Sallow had, as Aesop continued to realise, been right: Little Estelle Sallow would enable him to play favourites – if he was still a Professor by then, of course. More notably, though, seeing his love hold the small child and holding her himself filled him with more and more dreams and desires for his own children, the dreams of days hidden in the English countryside now vividly brighter as tiny feet ran around his mind endlessly echoing as if he were stuck in an everlasting pensive memory. It was ludicrous, foolish even – just a mere year ago, Aesop had believed himself to be resigned to forever Bachelorhood, his fate of living alone and forlorn for the rest of his days not likely to ever change. But it had – for fate had steered a most exquisite and extraordinary woman on his path, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would be inclined to share more than just a life with him.
The very picture of her holding little Estelle was etched into his mind, creating a desire he hadn't thought possible. Aesop did not understand how something so small could hold such power over him. But it did. He wondered if –
"Sickle for your thoughts?" his lover's sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts as she placed her lesson plans for the following week on the small coffee table before she stood up and walked to her small stove.
"I was just reminiscing," he answered truthfully.
"Oh?" She looked at him with her soft gaze, her head titled in genuine interest. "What of?"
"Estelle," Aesop sighed. "I fear her mother may be right, and I will be playing favourites in a few years. Do not let Sallow know I said that, though."
"We both will," she chuckled, preparing another kettle to make more tea, the warm light of the fireplace painting her in an ethereal glow. Though the summer was comfortably mild, the evenings and nights still got cold; thus, Aesop was thankful she continued to light the fireplace. "She was just a darling little thing."
"Not as adorable as ours would be," Aesop let slip out, his tone even as he was only half joking as the thought continued manifesting in his mind. Their children would be more adorable - Aesop was sure of it. Especially because they would be hers – tiny, perfect replicas of her, with her wonderfully bright and loving eyes, her warm persona and exceptional talent.
"I am not certain where this is coming from all of a sudden, but," she shook her head. "You are not half as shocking as you think you are," giggling quietly as she helped herself to another cup of tea, the fragrant, flowery aroma of rooibos filling the space.
"Oh?" Aesop couldn't help but raise his eyebrow as he watched her. Her beautiful hair was shimmering in the low light of her cabin, her (Y/H/C) waves cascading down her shoulders just like Aesop adored, a shift from the elaborate updos and styles she commonly wore – her hair soft and full, likely smelling of citrus and hyacinth, her skin tingling with spring. In short: She was utterly irresistible.
He could almost feel his manhood straining against his breeches, observing her hum lowly as her hips swayed in an unfamiliar rhythm, her face content, complete with a dainty smile. The atmosphere felt domestic, and Aesop found himself pulled into visions of the English countryside again, the images becoming more vivid with each second that time passed them by. He wanted, needed, more.
"Your bark is far worse than your bite," she continued, her tone teasing as she shot him a grin before returning her attention to the stove.
Is that what she truly believed? That his bark was worse than his bite? Had she forgotten that he had been an Auror? That, realistically, he could crush her tiny body between two fingers?
Before Aesop could stop himself, he had risen from his position in front of the fireplace, stalking toward her like a predator seeking its prey – a fitting description in Aesop's mind. She did not notice him, and it was far too easy for him to slowly wrap his arms around her tiny waist and pull himself against her. He could feel her warm body tense below his fingers, her breath hitching as he towered over her. His hair fanned out against her cheeks when he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her ear. Goosebumps were rising on her body, and he could make out the slightest shiver the closer he leaned into her.
He revelled in the way her body responded to his. So pliant. So... submissive.
"I can assure you, my love," he breathed out against her ear, "that my bite is just as bad."
An audible gasp escaped her as she fidgetted in his arms and turned around, though he kept his arms tightly locked around her waist – trapping her between the stove and himself. She stared up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes wide as they met his blown-out pupils that bore into hers.
"A-Aesop," she stuttered out. He watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her mouth slightly open. Though their touches had lingered over the past weeks, and their nights had been spent in the embrace of one another, Aesop hadn't been particularly bold or forthcoming beyond precisely that – their romance sweet and innocent and virtuous. He knew of her inexperience, but ever so carefully, he moved his hand upwards, his touch a mere ghost against her body before reaching her face and cupping her chin below his finger. His thumb moved against her lips. They were plump and soft - as was the rest of her.
His self-control was slipping, his manhood straining, and he felt like a juvenile delinquent. Aesop didn't want or ask for many things in life, but at this moment, he desired her.
"Tell me, Y/N," he breathed out, "Do you truly believe that yourself?"
"I-"
His hands moved back to her hips, his hold somewhere between a tight grip and a gentle caress. He wanted to caress her, hold her, love her. And he was unable to suppress his desires any longer. He pressed his front against hers, letting her feel what she did to him, her audible gasp and rosy cheeks sending another jolt down his spine. Her cheeks were burning deliciously, and she simply stared at him.
"Aesop," she whimpered helplessly. He was all-consuming. His deliciously musky scent of sandalwood and firewhiskey enveloped her until all her senses were inhabited by him and only him. His body surrounded her, and the warmth he emitted was nearly suffocating, but it was Aesop, after all.
Aesop.
The same man she had grown to love as much as she had. A man she would entrust her entire life with, knowing that he would do the same. A man who loved her wholeheartedly by his own admittance, who had defended her honour against a man he had never known when she had not even been his. His beard was rough against her cheeks, his head slowly moving down as he pressed feather-light kisses on her jaw and neck. He deeply inhaled her scent, never getting enough, relishing in the slight tremors that shook his love and the whimpers that fell from her lips.
"My love," he mumbled as he continued to kiss her neck, bent down awkwardly to her much smaller height and frame, caressing her sides as he held her close. "You would be the most stunning mother." His hands found her hips, one of them reaching to carefully touch her lower stomach, the very place that would swell with their children, where she would safely carry them until they were ready to come earthside. His voice was gentle, scarcely above a whisper, yet its rough rumbling sound resonated within the air.
"Is that something you could wish for?" he mumbled, looking at her before he placed his lips upon hers, savouring her saccharine taste as they moved in sync; him much more dominating. "For me to make you a mother?"
Her eyes bulged, looking at him, shell-shocked with her mouth still open. "Ae-Aesop," she stuttered lowly, "where is this coming from?"
He smirked at her, his caramel eyes meeting hers with a piercing gaze – a heated shiver tumbling down her spine. "I have not stopped thinking about it ever since you have held Estelle. You were captivating."
His lips met hers again, a blazing fire of desire and want behind the kiss that swallowed her whole.
"Aesop we," she gasped. "We can't. We're not even wedded."
He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. If this was her only problem, it could easily be rectified. More so, Aesop wanted to rectify it. "You think I would want to fuck my children into some random woman?" His voice was several tones deeper, still pressed into her as she took in his unusually forthright and vulgar words with wide eyes. "If it were up to me, my love, we could be married on the morrow and expedite our wedding night."
"Y-you – you want to marry me?"
"Let me reiterate," Aesop whispered against her lips. "I will not fuck my children into anyone but my wife. Anything you yearn for, it's yours."
He observed her face carefully – meticulously. His love wore her heart on her sleeve, conflicting emotions clouding her features. This was her decision and hers alone; she would carry and birth their children, after all. Just before he could pull away and express to her that she had all the time in the world that she needed, her quiet, breathless voice reached his.
"Will it...hurt?" she asked with uncertainty, biting her lip as she stared up into Aesop's eyes. She knew very little of marital relations, her mother telling her just enough to understand what needed to happen for her to conceive. Beasts were luckily quite the same, but in any case, the act did not sound or seem pleasant – but for Aesop and a chance at a family with him, she could endure.
"For a second," he spoke truthfully. "Just a second."
"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, letting him place his lips against hers. His mouth felt dominating, his beard coarse against her soft skin, lightly distracting her from his manhood pressing into her lower stomach. Arousal, excitement, anxiousness... they coursed through her as she let herself be enveloped and cared for by him.
Aesop slowly guided her towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, leaving him in a rather awkward position bent down to her height with his leg thrumming away lowly, but the sheer yearning was enough to make him forget the lingering pain, his sense zeroing in on her and the way her body felt beneath his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kept pressing himself into her, his manhood finding purchase and a torturous relief; before, reluctantly, he moved his lips from hers, both of them breathing deeply.
Ever so carefully, with Aesop's eyes never leaving hers, his fingers moved to her front, carefully unbuttoning her bodice, her chest rapidly moving up and down.
"You do not have to lay with me if you don't wish to," Aesop mumbled, his hands ceasing their careful administrations though he held them at her chest.
"I want to," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."
Aesop nodded with a smile, leaning in to kiss her again as his hands removed her bodice, his hands moving around her waist again to carefully unwrap her overskirt; before long, the delicate fabric joined her bodice on the floor, leaving her in her corset and bloomers. Their lips moved in unison, passionately filling his and her soul before they became one, and Aesop could feel her delicate, diminutive hands working to liberate him of his vest. He smiled contently into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest at her rather ungainly movements of opening the buttons but allowing her to feel him just as he felt her. Aesop's hand trailed a line against the bone of her hip, his other hand holding her waist steady as the warmth of her body slowly seeped through the thick material of the corset. Pulling away, Aesop could see the peak of her breasts pressing against the corset, barely spilling over – teasing him deliciously.
Her delicate hands tugged at his vest before Aesop let it fall to the ground alongside her garb, leaving him in his breeches and a cotton blouse, some chest hair peeking through at the top. She smiled at him – shyly, nervously, but Aesop could not glimpse a flicker of uncertainty. Carefully, he reached around her, ably loosening the laces of her corset, before the torturous thing joined the rest of her garments and his vest on the floor. She gasped, a sudden sensation of vulnerability as Aesop saw her chest in all its glory, her peaks hardening against the sudden air that kissed them in a welcoming embrace. Before she could cover herself, Aesop tenderly grabbed her wrists, holding them in his much larger hands, his eyes never leaving hers – warm and comforting.
"You are exquisite," he whispered, pulling her close. His larger body enveloped hers, her peaks chafing against the cotton with delicious friction before he kissed her fervently again, his hands roaming across her body as hers found his waist.
Though his body had significantly changed ever since he had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aesop remained lean and well-muscled, his shoulders still broad and strong – the assertive air around him never leaving. She could feel it between her fingertips, his shirt leaving little to the imagination as it clung to his body like a second skin.
She gasped into him when his hands suddenly touched her breasts, his hands fondling, fondling them gently, effortlessly cupping them in his large hands. Two fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, teasing her with a gentle, loving caress, swallowing her soft moans as he put forth all his longing and desire into the kiss. Against his mouth, Aesop could feel her soft whining; his manhood twitching as desire unlike he's ever felt before rushing through him.
"Get on the bed," Aesop growled lowly, eyes half-lidded in eros. She pulled away shakily, her eyes trained on him as he guided her towards the bed, letting herself lower down on the mattress when the back of her knees met the edge. Aesop stepped closer, looking down at her with an untamed gaze that sent shivers of craving and a newfound feeling she couldn't describe through her body. His fingers trailed below her chin, tilting it up slightly as he took her in. He felt like a young gentleman again, brimming with ferocious, carnal appetite when he had scarcely even touched her yet. Merlin knew he needed to be gentle – her inexperience and what Aesop suspected was a grand dearth of knowledge were bound to make this…interesting enough.
"And you are entirely certain you want this?" his voice unrecognisable.
"Yes," she whimpered, her nerves alight. For so long, it had been ingrained into her that she was not to lay with a man unless he was her husband, her very existence at Hogwarts having brought shame upon her family. And yet, as Aesop's presence enveloped her, she could not deny herself the sheer wanting and craving with the lasciviousness the moment brought.
He moved to his knees, his leg thrumming as he unhurriedly removed her bloomers, the tips of his fingers grazing her sides before she was as naked as the day she was born. The blaze of arousal that ran through him was as intense as the sun, and he has to remind himself like a chant that this is a first for her. He has to be gentle.
"Lay back," Aesop rasped out, rising to his feet again to remove his boots before he joined her on the bed, leaning over her with one arm supporting his upper body.
His eyes bore into hers as he slowly let his hand trail a sweet caress down her body. His touch was feather-light, the tips of his fingers scantily making contact with her heated skin, but it was enough to perceive the goosebumps that littered it. Her mouth was slightly open, though her eyes were wide - filled with anticipation, wonder and the lingering fear of the unknown.
His hand travelled lower, perhaps slightly clumsily, until it finally reached her hip and then the apex of her thighs. Her breath sped up slightly, but her eyes held onto his and Aesop revelled in the trust she was giving him. She had offered herself on a silver plate, and he would not stop until he had devoured her whole.
Ever so slowly, he manoeuvred her legs open, settling himself between them before his hand travelled lower and finally reached the place he wanted to absolutely wreck.
Aesop felt the small wet tuft, his touch teasing as he carefully slid his finger up and down her slit.
"Oh," she gasped, surprised, her breath speeding up as her thighs clenched around him.
"So responsive," Aesop chuckled lowly, "and I have barely even touched you."
She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her womanhood as his thumb searched for her clit. If he wanted to fuck her - if she wanted him to take her, he would need to prepare her in every way conceivable.
"Is this good?" he breathed out, his eyes still not leaving hers as he leant down, peppering her face in soft and gentle kisses. His fingers, at last, found her little nub – small and hard, peeking out like a treasured secret, his thumb simply pressing down on, whilst his middle finger caressed up and down, and she gasped out, her back rising from the bed.
"Yes," she finally found her words and nodded meekly. "I - Ah!"
Aesop chuckled as he pressed down harder, slowly drawing precise circles on her clit as her womanhood gradually became more and more damp beneath his ministrations. He littered small kisses along her cheeks and jaw – barely tangible – as she whined and squirmed underneath him, her breath reduced to erratic pants that only fuelled his own arousal. His breeches were confining, but witnessing her descent into bliss was nothing if not a blessing. This was his personal Eden - Aesop was sure of it.
He could feel her hole, tight and searing and oh so enticing, as his index finger joined his middle finger and touched her with newfound vigour. His thumb increased the pressure on her clit, and she keened.
"Aesop!"
"Yes?" he mumbled, his mouth on her throat, suckling tiny precious bruises all over. He could feel her heartbeat when his lips trailed her jugular vein, and it beat in the rhythm of his own. Her whining and squirming made him growl, but he would have been lying if it didn't excite him all the same.
"I- Ah!"
"Use your words, my sweet girl," Aesop drew back, his eyes finding her face again – her eyes shut in unadulterated bliss.
"Look at me," he bade her, "I want you to look at me when I make you come. When you unravel on my fingers."
Obediently she obliged, her frantic eyes finding his as she let out desperate pants and arched up into him.
"Please," she begged him.
"Please, what?" He teased her with a wolfish grin.
"More."
She felt so utterly overwhelmed and treasured as he made her feel things she had never felt before. Aesop was all-consuming, and she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. Pleasure she had never thought would even exist.
Between her legs, Aesop let his middle finger wander closer to her heat, pressing deeper as he went, feeling her wetness seeping out of her. Ever so carefully, almost curiously, he inserted his finger, coaxing a kittenish trill from her.
"Oh, oh," she squirmed under him, the sensation foreign and not entirely pleasant. His finger was easily the size of two of hers, a burning feeling accompanying its breaching entrance.
"Shh," he shushed her, littering kisses over her face once more. "I have to, my love. I have to. Just... let me feel you."
A soothing exhale let her refocus on the circles he drew on her clit and the pleasure shooting through her. His movements were meticulous, calculated and more pleasing than anything she had ever tried on herself.
Against his own thighs, Aesop could feel hers tensing and flexing, and he gave her a moment's reprieve before he could sense her settling, and he steadily began moving his finger in and out. She was tight, expectedly so, which only meant he would have to put in a substantial amount of work if she were to take him. To divert her attention further, he descended his head until his mouth found her erect nipples, enveloping one as she flexed into him.
"Aesop," she moaned lowly. He hummed in response – the vibrations a delightful sensation.
Though her hut had been comfortably warm before, it felt like it was positively ablaze now, the heat flickering away at her exposed skin, arousal running through her like a Graphorn untamed. The hand that had previously held him up now moved downwards, cupping her other breast, caressing it with teasing strokes that drove her mad.
"So tight," Aesop mumbled against her breast, his finger still dragging through her heat gently and slowly. "My perfect girl. So tight and warm..."
Her breathing quickened – chest rising against Aesop's face, his beard prickly against her delicate skin. Moans escaped her mouth; his thumb steadily increased its pressure on her as he worked her open. Delicately, he slipped in a second finger, pausing as she tensed up and before her tight and warm body opened up to him, welcoming his fingers as she groaned in rhapsody.
"Aesop..."
She trembled, overwhelmed by the very emotion and intimacy of the moment, a warm heat gathering in her lower abdomen as his motions slowly sped up, the delicious pressure of his fingers on her nub bringing her closer to the edge of delirium.
"That's it," Aesop mumbled against her, slowly rising up to look at her face. "That's it, my love."
Fervently, Aesop placed his lips upon hers again, consuming her cries of bliss as her body arched into his, her nipples brushing against the cotton of his blouse. One of her hands travelled from her sides to his waist whilst the other found his hair tangling itself in it as his movements quickened. Expertly, Aesop curled his two fingers inside her, uncovering the bundle of pleasure that made her keen under him. She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side as she moaned vociferously – panting as she got closer and closer to ecstasy.
"Aesop, I –" she gasped, looking right into her lover's eyes, her pupils blown and cheeks rosy the closer he brought her to completion.
"I've got you," he promised lowly, speeding up his movements as he felt her womanhood tighten up around his fingers. "Let go, my love. I've got you."
She felt like she was burning. From the way his fingers felt on her – in her – making her sweat and drip on the sheets as she writhed beneath him, the heat burning from between her legs before it spread in every little part of her body – an all-consuming inferno.
"I – Ah!"
"That's it, my love," Aesop cooed, curling his fingers against her spot, watching as she unravelled beneath him. Her eyes clenched, her hips wriggled underneath him, canting upwards – as she chased the foreign sensation that built up inside of her. Aesop fondled her clit a little faster, flicking it with animalistic precision as his fingers mercilessly assailed that tenderly sweet spot inside of her; before long, her womanhood clenched violently, and her first orgasm swept over her. Aesop watched, enthralled and utterly bewitched, as she cried out in pleasure, her thighs clenching around his hips and her tiny hands tightening, finding his shoulders and digging into them.
"Oh! Aesop!"
He could only groan, his manhood twitching at the thought of finally settling himself inside her tight, dripping warmth. Aesop continued to move his fingers – in, out – the movement lazy, helping her ride out the crashing waves of her orgasm before her tremble ceased and her moans shifted into paltry whines. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he sucked on them like a man starved, tasting her ambrosial wetness. She tasted like she smelled – saccharinely sweet like honey, entirely addicting. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his love staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her hair spread around her head like a glowing halo. She was sweaty, her chest still heaving against the swelting heat of the hut – Aesop could feel his eyes darken in desire.
His lips met hers with another bruising kiss, his prickly beard scratching against her delicate skin. She could taste the remnants of herself on him – an odd taste if one were to ask her – but she was left utterly breathless from the sheer overwhelming intensity of emotions surging through her, her very soul intertwining with his. To love someone as deeply as she loved Aesop had been one thing, but to feel the love reciprocated and returned tenfold was another dizzying reality entirely.
"I love you," Aesop breathed out. "Fuck – I love you."
"Aesop," her eyes widened, though her heart overfilled with love at his proclamation, and her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too."
He smiled at her – how could he not? Whenever did he get this lucky?! Perhaps he had saved a nation once – there was no perspicuous reason for this love otherwise.
His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves with a reverent worshipping touch, relishing the soft skin of her much smaller body beneath the callouses of his fingers. She shivered lightly, keeping her eyes trained on his. No matter the trepidation coursing through her veins, she was safe and cared for in Aesop's arms and beneath his much larger body – enveloping her as the world around blurred outside her focus. With quivering hands, she reached out to his waist, pulling at his shirt with a subtle whine.
Aesop chuckled lowly, pulling his shirt from his breeches before he allowed her to help him pull his blouse over his head as it promptly joined the rest of their garments on the floor. His love glanced at him, a demure gaze as she followed the lines of his scars littering his torso, though most of them were hidden by the ample amount of hair that covered it.
"And you say I'm exquisite," she whispered bashfully.
Carefully, she reached out to the largest one by his ribs, following the line with the ghost of a touch into the thick fur in the middle of his chest. Her fingertips danced over his pectorals, causing Aesop to release a shuddering breath before he leaned down again to find her lips. Her hands pawed at him hungrily, almost boldly, as he devoured her lips in a searingly hot kiss.
"May I try something?" he asked breathlessly.
"I trust you."
A wolfish grin spread across his face, sending a jolt of desire down her spine, unsure of what to expect. For one last second, he drank in her gaze upon his body, watching as she took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist before he bent down again, pressing kisses along her neck and collarbones, his hot breath fanning against her bosom.
"It'll be good, I promise," he mumbled, grin still on his face as he attended to her erect nipples with two kittenish licks before he went lower. His beard scratched against her belly, the delicious friction sure to leave a slight burn on her the following day, but her eyes widened again when he went even lower.
"Stop thinking," Aesop muttered, feeling her tensing lightly beneath him as he kissed down her torso. "Just let yourself feel."
He ceased again for just a second when his lips reached her lower stomach – a moment to relish her sweet scent with blissfully closed eyes. Lovingly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss down right where her womb would be – a silent prayer, a wish, sent up to whichever God had sent her his way to ensure this would be fruitful. He knew his love was utterly magical, but this secret place of hers was capable of creating wonders he yearned for – possessively, wholly and greedy in ways he hadn't known.
"A-Aesop, what are you –?" she asked with a stutter when he went even lower, spreading her legs further, placing himself between them as he held them in his arms.
"Push me away if you wish for me to stop, my love," a grin still on his face as he lowered his body to level with her womanhood. He gazed at her – right at the place he was hoping to ravage – whimpering with desire. He wasn't sure if he had ever expected anything, but if he did, it exceeded his expectations, for she looked oh so beautiful and alluring. Unable to stop himself, he bent down, brushing his nose up and down her mound, his beard leaving a deliciously sweet burn against the skin of her thighs as she started to shake and gasp in his hold. She smelled even better than he had dreamed, and without forewarning, his lips closed around her nub and sucked.
Aesop was silently thankful her hut was nearly off grounds; the absolute wail of pleasure she let out would've been heard by the entire castle otherwise. Her hips canted upwards, her legs sealing around him, and her arms flailing around until they found Aesop's hair. She didn't push him away, but her grasp was tight, holding onto him like he was her lifeline.
"Aesop!"
He hummed lowly in response, his eyes closed at the delectable taste, pulling and suckling at her most sensitive part.
"Aesop it – Ah! 's too much I – "
Her hips moved desperately beneath him – up, down; left, right – wriggling; trying to elude his succour and moving closer simultaneously. Determined to make her stay, Aesop wrapped one of his arms around her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as the other held open her legs. There was not a single thing on earth that could have impeded Aesop's ministrations, her yelps and incoherent pleas falling on deaf ears as his tongue swirled around her clit, pressing circles into her. He desperately osculated her ambrosial wetness – wanting, craving, needing her to come undone once more, his grip on her tightening.
"'sop – Please, I – Ah!"
His name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer, her upper body thrashing around and her breath uneven as she gulped in the air between her cries of pleasure. Her quim was positively dripping – her fluids spreading against her thighs and onto the sheets of her bed. Aesop's own groans of desire sunk into her, breathing in heavy pants as he devoured her whole. His fingers found her hole again, this time easily inserting two as her womanhood clenched periodically around them. The bed jerked with her movements, the wooden frame clattering against the stone walls as the room continued to heat up.
"I – Oh, Merlin – I... Ahhh!"
Aesop chuckled, his fingers curling and hitting the same precious spot over and over again. She tasted so sweet; her womanhood frail and warm against his tongue as he lapped at her rapaciously.
"Good girl," he rasped out somewhere in between. "Doing so well for me."
Her spluttering cries filled him with wicked pride as her head thrashed against the pillows – him holding down the rest of her, leaving her entirely at his mercy – unable to do anything but take what he gave her. It was riveting to know he would be the first man to bed her, that he was the first to introduce her to the endless fields of pleasure, as much as it thrilled Aesop to know he would also be her last. His fingers dallied their movements, his tongue ceasing its assault in place of kittenish licks, wishing to draw out her ecstasy before he decided to enter a third finger. Her eyes scrunched up with the discomfort she was suddenly feeling, his tongue scarcely enough to make it decently pleasing.
"Aesop," she groaned lowly, pushing her hip into her mattress in a futile attempt to escape him – his iron grip did not relent. "It's too much."
"Shh..." he soothed her, his fingers moving in and out, curling inside her, opening her and making her all the more pliant for him. "Shh... there you go, my love. You can take it."
His arm held her hips pertinaciously as his fingers worked deeper inside with each thrust – a little further each time they moved. She yelped, pleasure and pain intermingling when his tongue curled around her bundle of nerves, holding the highly sensitised part of her on the unforgiving, warm cushion of his own flesh before he sucked, the violent waves of ecstasy creeping up on her once more. Her wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene, filling the air, which likely reeked of their activities, and he wasn't even close to being done with her. Her thighs trembled under his hold, her upper body thrashing around.
She wished for it to stop, yet she prayed this would never end.
"Aesop...Aesop... Merlin, I – Oh, OH."
"It's alright," Aesop mumbled. "You're doing so good for me. My perfect girl."
Her second orgasm collided with her very soul – violently, fiercely, drowning her in the waves of ecstasy as the world around her shifted into a blinding white, turning her blissfully boneless. Her cries echoed in her hut, bouncing off the walls like sweet singing. Aesop groaned, his being awash with desire as his stiff manhood strained against his breeches – so much that it almost hurt. His fingers moved lazily, a few languid strokes helping her through the aftershocks of her peak, heat consuming her as she lay sapless beneath him. Aesop hastily unbuckled his breeches, pushing them down along with his underpants, letting his sizable erection spring free though his gaze did not wander from her.
His love looked downright sinful.
She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, her chest heaving as the electrifying feeling of her ecstasy continued to tingle through her, the world still spinning – she hardly even realised that Aesop was now naked too. Some hair clung to the nape of her neck, the rest fanned out around her as beads of sweat covered her lithe little body. It was as if she glowed from within – Aesop was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful.
He slowly made his way back up to her, his arms on either side of her body, holding him up and relieving most of the pressure from his leg, though it barely hurt as it stood. His eyes didn't leave hers, though they were still hazy in the afterglow. Aesop's hand lovingly caressed her face, pushing back a stray hair or two, waiting until her eyes found his again. His shaft twitched anxiously, resting between her body and his – warm and soft and waiting.
When she glimpsed at him – her eyes truly finding his – her eyes widened at the sight of him. Aesop hair was dishevelled, the hairline littered with beads of sweat as his dark eyes feasted upon her state. He was the very picture of depravity – his face drenched in her release from his nose to his lips, clinging to his stubble. She blushed fiercely at the view above her, almost averting her gaze had his fingers not caressed her cheeks. For the first time, she could feel the weight of his manhood against her stomach, the naked skin of his large body enveloping hers, but she didn't dare look down. It felt massive, though a large man like Aesop would likely be rather well...endowed. Dread filled her at the thought of him actually entering her, her breath picking up again – unable to hide the nature of her feelings.
Aesop's sweet and gentle caress steered her focus back to him, his smile just as soft.
"I will be as gentle as I can," he promised, his voice low and placating. "It will hurt for a second, and if you need me to stop, you can tell me."
He was so honest, so loving – so gentle and kind; her Aesop – that she could only nod, allowing his lips to fall upon hers as he shifted between her legs. She tried to remember what her mother had told her about the marital act – that she would simply need to endure – but it did little to subdue the tension she felt when she could feel him pressing against her folds. A pitiful whine escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to focus on anything else.
"I've got you," Aesop gentled her, his eyes now looking down between their bodies. He was unable to see much, but his heart thumped erratically at the sight of his manhood, hard and pulsating with need, right at her entrance. It had been a while for him, too; most carnal encounters after Scarborough were merely transactional (if at all), and Aesop wasn't sure if he had ever felt desire and need as intensely as he had at this moment.
"I've got you," he reiterated quietly, frowning a little as he eased the tip of him inside. She gasped for a second before holding her breath altogether, clenching her eyes shut upon feeling pure pressure.
"There you go, my love," he whispered against her ear, curling his large body over hers, trying to hold himself back as he felt the tip of his manhood enveloped by the tight heat of her – entering her with a torturously slow pace.
"I love you. You're doing so well, my love… So well. My good girl."
Light kisses and a gentle caress kept her with her, her contorted face strained as Aesop gently and slowly worked himself into her – he hated that this even needed to be unpleasant in the first place. Another gasp escaped her abruptly, deep and greedy breaths filling her lungs with the parching air surrounding them. Her sweaty chest stuck to his, her erect buds teased by the hair on his chest. The symphony of sensations was wholly overwhelming as she struggled to contain both him and herself.
Pressure. Agony. Desire. Want. Aesop – inside her.
Aesop let himself rest, her womanhood pulsating around him as it struggled to contain what little of his length he had inserted. Her small, near inaudible whimpers tore at his heartstrings – enough to distract his mind off the perfectly mindblowing sensation of feeling enveloped by her, his entire being aching with need as she leaked around him and he around her – easing the tight passage with their bodies aflame and hearts beating as one.
"Breathe, my love," Aesop cooed, his hand caressing the sides of her body in gentle strokes as he tried to ease more of himself inside of her, unable to stop a slight moan from escaping his lips.
"Aaaahh – " she grit out between her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly full. It was too big – feeling like it was tearing her apart at the seams, and she felt utterly pathetic beneath him. However, was she meant to fit that?
"Aesop!"
"Look at me," Aesop whispered, his breath mere inches away from her face. "Come, my love. Look at me. I've got you, okay?"
Whimpering, she opened her eyes, the caramel warmth of Aesop's finding hers as he was brimming with overwhelming love and adoration – enough to bring down an entire army. He gently placed a kiss upon her forehead as his hand moved lower again, resolved to make this pleasurable for her. If it had simply been about his own pleasure, he would have come undone within but a second.
"Try to relax, my love," he gentled, his hand finding her hardened nub again, smirking when she moaned in bliss as he gently put pressure on it, drawing light circles and cajoling more wetness from the depths of her core. She was feverishly warm, enveloping him with a vice grip – soft, warm, dripping the further he went. The arm holding him above her was tense, straining with the effort to keep him upright when she felt so good around him as he moaned himself with the warmth surrounding him. Slowly, gently, he eased more of himself inside, pressing his hips forward as his manhood fought against the tight clenches of her channel. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears – but they did not leave his.
"Ahh – Aesop!"
"That's it, my love. My beautiful girl...I love you," he gentled. "You are doing so well. So very well for me."
"I…I…"
"What is it, my love?" he asked, his hip pressing forward another excruciating inch, their bodies aching for the other as he leaked around her the way she did around him – easing the passage and helping her stretch against him. Her breathing was erratic, her cheeks glaringly red as pleasure and pain intermingled once more. "What do you feel?"
"It..mhm..." A tender moan spilt from her, her womanhood slowly loosening around him. "–sop."
"Yes, my love?" He whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth as he felt her shivering beneath him. He rubbed her clitoris with messy and soft strokes, relishing her low moans as her eyes fluttered shut – this time in pleasure. Aesop could not help the small smile that placed itself upon his lips, for she was breathtaking. Another inch pressed into her, the discomfort returning and a choked little sob spilling from her plush lips – a stray tear spilling from her eye.
"Do you wish for me to stop?" Aesop asked her gently, halting all his movements as he awaited her answer. She did not answer him, though she shook her head furiously from side to side.
"Look at me," he bade her again, his hand cupping her face as he gentled her with a soothing touch. "You do not have to endure if you cannot."
Her teary eyes met his as she gulped before another sharp intake of breath filled her lungs. "I don't want you to stop," she whimpered miserably. "Please just..." she bit her lip, her gaze averting in shame.
"Please, what, my love?" he asked. "You can tell me anything. You need to tell me if you want this."
"What you've been doing with your fingers..." she gulped. "I want…I need…"
"Do you need me to…" he slowly pressed his fingers on her clitoris again – a little more pressure than before – his voice fading as she gasped and arched into him.
"Yes…" she sighed contently, the furrow of her brow decreasing, and her eyes closed again. "A–Ae–Aesop," she shakily moaned, her hips canting upwards to meet his.
His self-control was admirable, the strain on his own body and mind evident by the strain in his arm and his own panting breaths. Her womanhood parted for him, the tight muscle easing as she relaxed into his touch – clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth. His shaft was leaking a trail inside her with each small push forward – she did not believe he could go any further, for it already felt like he was beyond anywhere he should be. Before long, Aesop pushed forward one more time – burying himself with one long and stubborn thrust, reaching all the way inside her.
She wailed and burst into tears at the sensation, Aesop's own head dropping between the valley of her breasts as he groaned deeply at the sheer feeling.
"Aesop!"
"Fuck," he groaned lowly, the hand next to her head gripping the sheets – his hand surely turning white with force. He had stilled inside her, allowing both him and her to adjust to the foreign feeling. Her chest was rising violently, pushing against his as he fully enveloped her beneath him.
"A-Aesop," she whimpered, a twinging pain still lingering in her lower body, her legs sapless on either side of him. "It - ah…hurts."
"I know, my love," Aesop breathed out, his eyes clenched in focus. "You're so – ah...tight."
His hands found her sides again, tracing delicate patterns across her heated skin – all whilst he lingered inside her; unmoving. Slowly, but surely, he felt her settle, her breath evening out and her core loosening. The pain that had pierced her and lingered in her womanhood slowly dwindled away, leaving nothing but a sensation of overwhelming fullness in its wake. His weight upon hers felt strangely comforting, a familiar feeling among the symphony of vast and earth-shattering novelties. Aesop was scalding against her, his broad and heavy and burly body encasing her protectively – shielding her from the world around her, though if she had to describe her world now, there would only be Aesop anyway. She said nothing – much like he did – allowing his panting breath to fan over her bosom as her tears dried. Her fingers, as she now began to realise, had pressed into his sides, leaving red marks on his tough skin.
"Oh," she whispered as she loosened her tight grip.
"Hm?" Aesop mumbled, the vibrations hitting her bosom. "What is it, my love?"
Her voice was trembling and quiet when she answered him – plagued by the shame of what she had done. "I fear I might have hurt you..."
She could feel Aesop's chest rumbling with a low chuckle, the action sparking…something unknown between the folds of her quim before he rose to meet her eyes again, a lopsided smirk on his flushed face.
"My love," he mumbled, a stray hair pushed from her tear-streaked face. "My beautiful, beautiful love...You have cried, certainly not from ecstasy this time, and you worry about me?" Another low chuckle vibrated through them. "Fear not – you haven't hurt me. I have endured far worse."
He watched as she bit her lip, evading his piercing gaze in shame, more tears gathering in her eyes.
"None of that," Aesop chided lovingly, pushing her face to meet his, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "You're doing so well for me," he whispered, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her walls pulsate around him. He embraced her lips in a loving kiss once more, their tongues mingling as he continued to lead her. "How do you feel?"
"Full," she whimpered lowly. "So… ah – full, Aesop."
A deep groan left his lips upon her admission. Call it male pride or call it unnaturally developed self-conceit, but Aesop could not help the blaze of arousal that burst through him at her admittance. He knew he was charitably blessed, more so than most men – not that she had any way of knowing – but his love took him perfectly, doing so well for him – only him.
"Fuck," he rasped out, straining above her as her warm heat continued to envelop him in a vice grip.
She looked entrancing beneath him, eyes shut, with bitten lips – her chest rising against his, body flushed beautifully as it lay against the pillows. And she was all his. Eternally and entirely his.
"You are doing so well," he praised her in a low tone once more, his hands tracing placating patterns on her skin as they descended towards her hips. He could feel her tension under his fingers, her body shivering – so far removed from the ecstatic state she had been in before.
"Do you trust me?" Aesop whispered, almost inaudible.
"Yes." Her voice was squeaky, and she did not open her eyes, but the word spilt from her lips with no hesitation – and that was enough for Aesop.
He firmly took hold of her hips, angling himself above her – rubbing comforting circles into her hips. Gently, he eased a few inches out, her quim clinging to him before he eased himself back inside with the same familiar gentleness. A breathless gasp escaped her, her eyes opening to meet his as he meticulously took in her body's every response, his eyes hazy with desire and wanting – it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a peculiar feeling, entirely recondite but not unpleasant altogether. Each slow thrust which met her allowed his pubic bone to grace her clit with delicious friction, his manhood gradually opening her up with every thrust – battering away any clenching as her womanhood took him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso; fingers pressed into the blades of his shoulders as Aesop rhythmically moved, a little more each and every time.
She watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, a deep groan escaping him as her warmth circled him. Merlin, Aesop could truly not recall ever feeling even close to this – She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax; he felt like a dratted schoolboy again. Thank Merlin, he was adept at concocting Bruisewort Balm as he knew with absolute certainty that his grip on her hips would leave bruises.
His grinding movements gradually turned pleasant – no longer pressurising.
"Aesop," she groaned, her tone entreating. "I – ah…"
"You feel so perfect, my love," he groaned, allowing his face to move downwards so his mouth could envelop one of her hardened peaks once more, his tongue swirling around despairingly, his hair tickling against her heated skin. "– Doing so well for me. Taking me so perfectly."
He could feel her womanhood dampening around him, easing his motions further – a dark chuckle escaped him.
"You like that, my love? Being told that you're my good – ah," Aesop grunted as he ground his pelvis deeper, her lower body pushed into the mattress. "– my good, good, girl? All for me?"
"Yes," she sighed contently, her eyes closing in bliss.
He cooed against her breasts, deep, breathless, his grinding slowly turning into gentle thrusts – still careful not to hurt her. The hands he held on her hips relaxed, one moving lower to angle her hips differently as he moved his own. Each thrust inwards left her closer to being utterly sapless, unable to do anything but take what he gave, his generous length and girth aiming to brush against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to wail out in pleasure.
Aesop's head shot up in astonishment when her womanhood tightened around him violently, her rear and head rising from where she lay as she wailed.
"Aesop! Oh…Oh!"
His length brushed against her spot mercilessly, teasing her deliciously when she was very much sated from the two peaks of ecstasy before – the sensation both aching and sending her closer to delirium.
"There you go," Aesop rasped, his shallow thrusts gaining momentum. "Is that good?" he asked, groaning, teasingly pushing his length to deliberately beat away at that tender spot.
"Yes!" his love cried out beneath him, scarcely believing the sheer pleasure she was suddenly feeling – never having felt such an intense cacophony of feelings aimed at her before. With a growl through clenched teeth, Aesop moved his hands to her breasts, fondling them tenderly as he rose up to look down upon the ethereal form of his beloved. The guttural moan he released when he took in the very picture of sin beneath him shook him to his core, the familiar sensation of his impending peak quelling in his lower region. He had to slow down, fearing he would finish before she did, though he could feel her peak approaching.
She looked like a sacred piece of art – sweaty, moaning, and blissfully boneless, her hair spread out like a halo, cheeks flushed, and eyes closed – his own groans of pleasure hastening her voracity.
"You're doing so well for me," Aesop groaned. "So fucking well. All for me. My beautiful girl."
"Yes!" she chanted affirmatively. "All for you."
His thrusts were slow, tempered - reaching parts of her she never thought anyone would reach. His hips canted against her, pushing her further into the mattress, pressing deep, so very deep, into her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her cervix with the sheer force of his thrusts, her womanhood stretched open. She was utterly vulnerable – her legs shook with the intensity of emotions coursing through her, shaking her to her very soul.
"Fuck," Aesop hissed hotly. "I love you. I love you so much. My good – ah, girl. Doing so well for me. My lovely woman… So warm, so… ah....good."
"Aesop!" she cried out, her grip on his shoulders tightening as the familiar coil of eros bubbled beneath her skin again, the flames of desire licking their way up from her womanhood and spreading through her body mercilessly. "I – oh god. I –"
"I've got you," Aesop rasped reassuringly, his touch a temperate anchor in the endless sea of ardour she was drowning in. She cried out once more, a stray tear spilling from the corner of her eye, which Aesop gently wiped from her cheek before he reached down and pressed a soft kiss into the crown of her hair.
"I've got you," he promised once more with a sweet sigh, "You're ah – doing so well for me. I love you so much. Ah – taking me so well. Fuck – I'm so...so proud of you… It's alright... let go for me."
She felt his soft, groping hand, helplessly desirous touching along her body and face, caressing her softly - oh so softly – with infinite soothing and assurance. It was so much and never enough, the staccato building and building confronting her with the innermost parts of herself. Never had she felt so acutely the agony of her own forlornness, yet embraced in Aesop's arms, she knew she would never feel forlorn again. She was his, and he was hers. She had reached the peak twice before that night, but this was so greatly different that she wondered if she had truly reached it after all. He was turgid and quivering inside her, the strange thrills rippling through her like burning embers – dashing to points of brilliant exquisiteness. She lay near unconscious of the frenzied cries she emitted, unaware of his gaze upon her trembling body as she was consumed entirely. She clung to him in her burning passion, his rhythms flushing up into her, filling her entire, cleaving consciousness until she was nothing but a burning flame.
Aesop nearly came apart at the sight and feeling of her, the sight celestial, but he craved, needed, more.
"Fuck," he groaned. Though his movements slowed, they did not cease altogether, his eyes closing in bliss as his thick manhood scraped against her tender, clenching walls. His thrusts were gentle as he helped her through the throes of her peak, lidded eyes, observing her every tremble. When his love came to, noting his continued movements, her eyes shot open, their hazy gaze blurry.
Stuttering, his name left her lips, the burning molten between her legs never ceasing. "A-A-Aesop."
He continued to rock inside; out. It was a moment of pure peace for Aesop, the entry into the body of her so very pleasurable – his hips meeting hers. Her legs tensed, and her womb clenched, unsure if it was pleasure or pain this time around. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hut, the room hot and humid amidst their moans and groans and her cries.
"Aesop 's too much," her speech slurred, struggling to keep her eyes on his.
"You are doing so well," he grunted, adjusting the grip he held on her, snapping his hips up violently, his antecedent restraint and control dwindling. His arms circled her, Aesop's body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. "You can give me one more."
His thrusts pushed the literal air from her lungs, gasps and moans spilling from her bitten lips – his name sometimes in between like a prayer. Aesop's hands caressed down her sides until he bent forward, lifting her kneed to wrap her leg around his waist, holding it there – the new angle leaving her vulnerably open. Their eyes met one another – hazy with lust and wanting and need and earth-shattering love and devotion simmering below the surface.
"I love you," the young woman sobbed out, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of her, the tip of it pressing against the entry to her womb. Her back arched into him, his scalding chest resting over hers, rough hairs chafing against her tight and tender nipples. She loved him beyond anything - adored him till her knees were weak as she walked and her heart could no longer survive without him. He was her air, her warmth, her very reason for being.
Something gave way, and the potions master above her precipitously, violently, thrust his hips into hers, held up only by his bruising grip as the remains of her lay sapless beneath him. Aesop slid his hands down her body, his callouses leaving goosebumps in their wake as he caressed her soft stomach before his fingers found her erect clit above her entrance. Her wails were the sweetest song Aesop had ever heard, the vicious grip on his shoulders sure to leave imprints for days to come.
"I love you too – fuck," Aesop hissed, allowing himself to close his eyes as he battered away, his movements forceful and erratic. His mind filled with the reason they were engaging in the first place – a vivid image conjured in his mind of her swollen and rounded body.
"You will look so beautiful," he murmured breathlessly. "So stunningly beautiful. Whole with my children – ah, fuck."
Her womanhood clenched, flowing and alive and vulnerable as the image filled her too – helpless with adoration of him and what she wanted him to do – before it opened, ready to be filled with new life all for him – with him.
Both her and his yearning adoration for one another was fearful, leaving them helpless in each other's embrace and so different from what had been their relationship – a new dawn blooming. It was sinking into them as his manhood sunk into her, deep into their being to the centre of all creation. Aesop had not known yearning like this – possibly even feared it his entire life, lest if he adored too much, he would be vulnerable; a slave to his emotions which he certainly had never wished to be. Yet as he moved into her, enveloped tightly and loved, he would no longer fight it. It was so fathomless, so soft, so deep and so unknown – yet he surrendered, just as she had.
"Aesop!" she cried out.
"Your womb will be full with me," Aesop groaned nonsensically. "So filled with life that everyone shall see."
Her hips canted upwards to meet his thrusts, his finger pressing wildly into her bud as ecstasy drew near – for both of them. Her wails of pleasure filled the room around them, his lowly groans swirling between. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, holding him close in her vices, and her womanhood felt perfectly satisfied – the female inside her never more loved and cared for than it had been in this very moment. His phallus was forcing her to take every sensation, and she no longer felt ashamed to want it all.
"Take it," Aesop growled. "Take my seed, and I shall ensure you will be a mother."
"Yes, yes, please, I – " she begged through pleasured sobs, wishing he would finally fill her. The yearning with which she realised the difference between wanting a child and wanting his was discordant, even if it seemed ordinary enough. But to be filled with Aesop's child, and his alone, made her feel like a woman reborn.
One final, forceful thrust before Aesop's lips fell upon hers, his ecstasy intermingling with hers, their souls intertwining as Aesop swelled and swelled, pushing his seed inside her – pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling through them until they were one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, his life springing into her.
They gasped into each other as the waves of pleasure ebbed through them, laying utterly still as they knew nothing but each other and warmth. Carefully, Aesop wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and turned them onto their sides, limbs entangled and his manhood still resting deep inside her, not allowing a single drop of his seed to spill. Their eyes were closed blissfully, her head nestled into his chest with his arms encasing her protectively. It was done – she had chosen him, and he had chosen her, his duty now forever protecting and shielding the woman in his arms, a duty he would fill with all his honour. A duty, which, in due time, would be extended to life growing inside her – a life Aesop was looking forward to protecting with all he had.
"I love you," Aesop mumbled into the crown of her hair. "I love you most ardently. You are an incomparable gift, my love."
He felt her tears before he saw them, undue panic rising in his chest as he bade her to look at him. He held her cheek against his hand, warm and flushed after their proclivities.
"What is it, my love?" he asked in hushed tones. "Have I hurt you?"
"No," she shook her head. "No, you have not I –"
"Then please tell me what –"
"Nothing," she sobbed, a shy smile on her face as she burrowed herself into his hand. "I could have never thought these relations to be so... liberating."
"…liberating?" Aesop asked after a breath of silence. He did not understand.
"Yes," she nodded into his hand, before she smiled up at him. "My mother had told me that...when it happens, I should lie back and think of England. That I would have to endure until my husband had his heir. She did not mention that it could be… that it would be a mere hitch of pain before an endless field of pleasure."
His heart both shattered and thumped upon hearing her admission, his strokes against her back so soft and gentle, barely discernable if her wet and battered body was not as sensitive as it had been.
"You let me bed you thinking it would be something to endure?" he inquired, praying that he had heard – understood – wrong.
"Yes," she replied with no hesitation in her voice. "If it meant that you would father my children – our children – I would have endured a thousand times over. But…this?" Her cheeks glowed in the aftermath, unable to speak of their activities even after what had transpired. "This was nothing to endure."
"And you never have to endure it," Aesop resolutely told her, pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "I will not stand for it. This was your choice and yours alone. And should you ever –"
"Shhh," she gently interrupted him with a smile upon her lips. "I do not know what it felt like to you but to me? I do not believe a woman could ever be…happier. Or more loved."
Aesop returned her smile tiredly – relieved and triumphantly proud. "I do not believe a man could ever find more happiness either."
For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as his beloved lay in his arms, falling asleep, burrowed safely in his chest away from the world, having chosen him as he had chosen her, he truly could allow himself to dream of forever.
Aesop Sharp now knew that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him, the living proof of it in his strong arms.
#professor sharp#aesop sharp#professor aesop sharp#aesop sharp x reader#aesop sharp x mc#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fic#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#sebastian sallow#professor fig#professor weasley#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#idiots in love#fluff#romance#communication is key but these idiots can't find it so the door is bashed in instead#i wrote this instead of my thesis and various job applications and honestly? i have MANY regrets#i hope my mum never finds this#still can't believe i wrote this#hogwarts legacy mc#garreth weasley#ominis gaunt#anne sallow#dinah hecat#professor hecat#victorian era#1800#late 1800s#victorian
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"Things Happen" Dick Grayson x Reader
(A/N: Happy birthday to me. 90s Robin all happy!
Reader is a fan of Robin and has been having bad luck all day. What else could happen on their birthday?!
Also: Happy birthday @ivorydragoness44
Warnings: A little angst. Use of (Y/N). I did not take this seriously; I snickered writing the ending.
Word Count: 1,086 words)
~~~
Gotham City stood proudly with skyscrapers, large statues, and bright lights.
Yeah, you would rather be inside at this time of night.
But you were determined. On a mission to finish the day on a high note. At least a little more positive anyway. It was your birthday after all.
Just get home. That’s all, you thought as you walked along the sidewalk. Gripping a bag tight to your chest, you hoped the tiny cake would make it.
The hours that had long since passed suggested otherwise.
I can do this.
It was only walking. Nothing like what had happened earlier in the day.
Your birthday had started with you running your knuckles into the wall after leaving the bathroom, you had run your big toe into the coffee table, you had saved a cup from plummeting to the floor and hit the same knuckles as that morning, a folder full of papers met the floor later on as each slid in opposite directions, and then it was your cake.
That was almost your breaking point, but as least you had shrugged the other minor inconveniences off.
Things happen, you thought, trying to remain positive.
Not too long ago, maybe an hour, you had finished decorating your birthday cake. It was your favorite flavor and deliciously homemade. Beautiful in your eyes. Until the moment it somersaulted onto the kitchen floor. All of it. It was enough to make you sit by it and mourn its loss.
Whether it was gravity, physics, or something else—it was having a grand time with your birthday.
Should had wished for a calm day, you thought. No party. No surprises. Just a calm day. Got two out of three.
At least you were the only witness. Then again, that did mean you were alone.
But it’s all good. I have cake.
VROOOOM
SPLASH
A car sped down the road.
You blinked as water soaked in and dripped off of you. You only stood there. Done. Completely finished.
You inhaled.
“AAHHHGGH!"
You huffed and walked on.
Stupid car. I can’t even go an hour without something—stupid—happening? Come on!
Shoes stomping, you continued onward.
Stupid. Stupid. Flippin’ WET! This cake better be dr—
thump
“Hey.”
“AYY!" You jumped to the edge of the side walk.
“Whoa.” A masked man rose his hands up. “I’m sorry. I heard you yelling and thought you might be in trouble.”
“Ohmygod.”
Standing before you wasn’t any masked man. He was Robin. A hero of Gotham City.
“Are you in trouble?” Robin asked with a growing smirk. Eyes scanned you up and down.
“Bad day.” You managed to answer. Your frustrations hidden by a layer of surprise and excitement.
“Sorry about that.”
“Me too.”
Wiping water droplets off of the small bag, you shrugged.
“So, um—thank you….for checking on me.” You smiled. “I really appreciate.” Then you added, “Especially today.”
“No problem.” Robin took a step closer, eyeing the bag in your grasp. “What’s special about today?”
Taking your gaze away from the tight-suit-wearing hero, you focused on the semi-dry paper bag. Lifting it up briefly, you showed him the small bakery logo on it.
“It’s my birthday,” you muttered unenthusiastically.
The news registered in his eyes quickly. If it was pity he had for you, he hid it well. He kept a smile on his lips.
“Happy birthday…”
“(Y/N).”
“Happy birthday (Y/N),” Robin said. “May I walk you home?”
Your eyes widened. “Oh. It’s okay. Really. I’m fine—“
Reaching for your arm, Robin quickly pulled you away from the end of the sidewalk as another car sped by.
SPLASH
Well then.
“Thank you.”
From the close proximity, his grin appeared bright. Playful even. He released your arm.
“Okay, uh. It’s not far to my place.” You relented. “At this rate I’ll drop this cake too.”
“Too?”
“It’s been a day.”
With his gloved hand, he gestured for you to lead the way.
Please let him be good luck. He’s Robin. And he’s walking. Me. Home.
Leading the way forward, you kept your thoughts on Robin instead of which way your luck could turn.
He kept the conversation light, but you did eventually tell him about the woes of your day. The man was itching to know. He was shocked all that happened to one person in one day.
You on the other hand were still trying to wrap your brain around the fact that you were walking with Robin. Goodness, you were definitely a fan. A grateful one. One who thought he was so cool and unexpectedly more handsome in person.
The walk to your apartment was uneventful in terms of anything negative happening. All in all, it was good. Safe.
And the cake is fine, you thought happily as you made it to your front door.
“This is it.” You announced. “Thank you again.”
“No problem.” Robin smiled then asked, “Do you have your keys?”
“Yeah, I…have them,” you answered while fishing them out of your pocket. “See? Everything’s still fine.”
Unlocking the door successfully, you opened it.
“Ta da.” You kept it open with the toe of your shoe.
The corner of his lips upturned.
“Now all you need is a gift.”
“What?” You questioned, shocked. “Robin, you already walked me home. And you didn’t have to.”
That’s a gift of its own.
“It’s your birthday.” Robin stepped forward, eyelids becoming heavy-lidded. “I’d like to give you something.”
You swallowed.
“If it’s alright?”
“Um. Sure.” You tilted your head, curious. “Yeah.”
“How about a kiss for your birthday?”
“I…yeah.” You were a bit at a loss for words.
Robin stepped even closer.
Was your mind short-circuiting? Did you hear him correctly?
In a swift motion of his arm, Robin pulled you in by the waist and laid a passionate kiss on your lips.
For those few wonderful, fleeting moments, you were in the arms of a charming hero. The world was quiet. Your birthday was saved. You were even living the dream of almost every person in his fan club.
Parting away slowly felt like waking from a long, vivid dream.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered knowingly. Smirking, he pulled lightly on the bracelet on your wrist.
OH.
Without another word uttered nor kiss shared, Robin left with a wink and his cape billowing behind him.
Wow. And he apparently noticed the handmade Robin bead bracelet my friend sent me.
You walked into your apartment and shut the door.
“Robin kissed me!"
(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.
~~~
PART TWO
~~~
coffee
Best wishes and happy reading.)
~~~~~
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#90s robin#Dick Grayson x Reader#robin x reader#batman forever#batman and robin#where dreamers go#dick grayson
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