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dreaminpetals · 3 years

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💐 COMMISSION: fem s/o's wedding with andrew (sfw & nsfw) 💐

thank you so much for the commission! please consider checking out my emergency commissions here ! i hope you enjoy !

SFW ;;

♡ Andrew has always longed to marry somebody. Being a religious man, he's dreamed of filling a church with people who are dear to him as his beloved bride walks down the aisle.

♡ He's only glanced at weddings, an outsider looking in. The brides and grooms having the best nights of their lives made his heart feel fuzzy. Nobody would ever dare to wed him, but the idea was certainly a pleasant one. It helped him sleep. It comforted him when he needed it most. He wanted to look down at his hands and see a ring that reminded him someone out there loves him.

♡ He grew up with not even a penny to his name, so he knows having a luxurious wedding would be completely out of the picture for someone like him. Until he met you.

♡ You helped him get back on his feet and the two of you worked together to save up enough money for a wedding ceremony and reception, along with a honeymoon.

♡ Most honeymoons are spent lazing by the beach, but due to his body being constantly at war with sunlight, you decided to book a trip to a lovely cabin hidden away in the woods, a private place for just the two of you.

♡ He honestly thought you'd end up getting married in Red Church, surrounded by cobwebs and broken glass, but you insisted that you two would find a way to escape the manor and you'd have a proper wedding.

♡ It took months of promises and longing, but the seal keeping everyone trapped in the manor finally snapped and let everybody escape. You took Andrew's hand that day and promised him that a brighter future was upon you.

♡ Your wedding was surprisingly inexpensive. Despite your days in the manor being long gone, many of the survivors stayed in touch with you and were more than willing to help. You don't need to hire a whole team of wedding planners with the survivors by your side.

♡ Michiko and Violetta teamed up to sew you the most gorgeous dress you had ever laid eyes on.

♡ Emma designed your bouquet and enveloped the chapel in beautiful flowers.

♡ Norton prepared your rings using the finest gems he could find.

♡ Margaretha found the most wonderful songs to play and arranged dances.

♡ Vera styled your hair and Fiona did your makeup.

♡ Victor handled the invitations and did a fantastic job. So on and so forth.

♡ You and Andrew were on good terms with almost everyone, so they were all pumped to see how your wedding would play out. It was the greatest team effort they put into anything since the escape of the manor.

♡ You two had lots of practicing to do before the actual wedding. For one, Andrew didn't know table manners. You'd have to lovingly teach him gestures like how to cut his meat and how to do a toast before even daring to eat at the reception.

♡ Dancing together in your rooms was what Andrew enjoyed the most, though. Margie planned several dance routines, so you had triple the practicing to do when it came to dancing.

♡ Andrew was surprisingly agile during fast-paced dances, he loved to twirl you in the air like in a movie and dip you so low you thought you were going to crash into the ground. Each yelp only spurred him to play with you more, drinking up your reactions and getting all giddy because it's you.

♡ As for slow dancing with Mister Kreiss? You're so lucky to say you're familiar with it. He hums along to whatever music you play in the background, and puts so much love into every step or twirl that you feel like your heart might burst. It's agony waiting to dance with him in a suit and dress rather than your pajamas.

♡ You're blown away when you see the wedding venue for the first time. It's pure white with shades of red sprinkled in, the same colours Andrew has hated about himself now repurposed to be something he'd look at fondly for the rest of his life. It was beautiful. Like him.

♡ You noticed a chair with an unfamiliar name on it. When you asked Andrew who it belonged to, he answered that it was for his late mother. She would have loved to come, he said.

♡ He doesn't take the day of the wedding very well. What do you mean he can't see you until the ceremony?! He wants to greet you, kiss you, practice some extra dance moves to be extra sure... he's grumpy while the guys of the manor dress and hype him up.

♡ "Alright, let's do this! THREE CHEERS FOR OUR MAN ANDREW!" William would cheer so loudly the girls would hear it from the other side of the church and burst out into laughter.

♡ Andrew couldn't stop his hands from shaking, though. His lifelong dreams were finally being realized. The love of his life was going to marry him tonight. Willingly. He could barely believe it.

♡ As for you? You're brimming with excitement at the idea of walking down the aisle and shooting an arrow of love straight into Andrew's heart. The girls are envious of you as they powder your face and tighten the seams of your dress.

♡ "I remember when you first met that boy," Michiko would say to you as she styled your dress, beaming at you through the mirror. "You were too shy to even speak to one another... ah, young love."

♡ It took a million checks to make sure you were ready to present yourself to everybody. Your hair, makeup, dress, veil, bouquet... everything had to be absolutely perfect. It was a bit difficult having so many girls look after you, because Tracy's idea of perfect was a little bit different than Michiko's. There was a lot of playful arguing, but you knew they just wanted this day to be flawless for you.

♡ Once the petals were strewn down the halls and the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their appearances, you finally presented yourself.

♡ It took everything in Andrew to not fall to his knees when he saw you. You were angelic, your white dress cascading down your back with a stunning hairstyle he's never seen you in before. Your bouquet was made of all your favourite flowers, and he could see the perfect shade of lipstick beneath your vail. You captured Andrew's heart as he leaned onto Luca's shoulder for support.

♡ Andrew wasn't the only one who had his breath taken away. Practically everyone was gawking at you. It made Andrew feel a little... possessive, seeing everyone's eyes on you. He was going to be marrying you. Not José, not Norton, not Victor but him.

♡ All of his negative feelings disappeared the moment you were in arms reach. He extended an arm to take your hand as you gladly obliged. When he felt the fabric of your dress against his wrist, electricity shot through his body for a second time.

♡ Being able to see Andrew up close was a dream come true. His usual matted hair was thoroughly washed and brushed, it appeared as if José had lent him a hand. His usual flower was still present even as he wore a breathtaking suit. He smelled like cologne and looked so nervous but in love... you couldn't wait to finally kiss your groom.

♡ His hands trembled as he lifted your veil to reveal your features to him. You flashed him a grin and he felt his heart explode. He danced his fingers along your cheeks until they met your shoulders, which he gave an affectionate pat before turning to the priest.

♡ He had Helena help him with his vows. He wanted to blow you away, to use words you didn't think he knew. It took him days to memorize the words of love he was going to bestow upon you. You overheard him talking to himself a few times, but never guessed they were his vows.

♡ He also has some trouble with words of affection. Andrew much prefers to hold you or do favours for you.

♡ "When I first met you, I didn't think I was worthy of love. It's still hard to believe, but... I promise to return to you every affectionate gesture you give to me. I'll love you always and forever, as my angelic wife. I want to grow old with you. I vow to protect you, adore you, and care for you as long as I'm your husband. Our hearts will always be melded together and nothing will ever change that. Thank you for saving me. I love you."

♡ His vows brought some of the survivors to tears. Most of them only knew Andrew as that really quiet guy who hid behind his girlfriend a lot, so to see him spill his heart out for you made the crowd let out a sea of "awwwh"'s.

♡ His face turned scarlet and he almost wanted to run out of the building and hide once he finished speaking. He stumbled over and mispronounced a few words, but you could tell he put his whole heart into it and he meant every word he said.

♡ When he's finally able to kiss you, Andrew dips you low and assaults your entire face with kisses, treading past your lips. He doesn't care about smudging your makeup or embarrassing you, you're finally his wife and he just wants to feel your face after waiting all day to.

♡ The cheers once you become man and wife are astounding. When you tossed the bouquet it was caught by Eli and Gertrude.

♡ Demi helped to bake an enormous cake, one that's almost as tall as you. On top were little toppers meant to look like you and Andrew that you kept as mementos.

♡ The reception was definitely more of a party than the wedding was. Antonio and Margie played music for everyone to dance along to, and a karaoke session was held as well.

♡ Andrew was a little stressed out by how much noise there was, but you reminded him everyone there loved him and he melted. He's not used to all this positive attention.

♡ Your heart burst when he extended an arm and asked you to dance. You had been practicing for so long that when you finally attended the real event, it felt like a dream.

♡ For just a few minutes, nothing existed but Andrew's arms around you and the elegant music brought to you by a live band.

♡ Once all the food is eaten and gifts are exchanged, everyone bids you farewell. The girls cry when they hug you and the guys all pat Andrew on the back, wishing him good luck for... what couples do on their wedding night.

♡ When you two finally arrive home, Andrew is exhausted. He's never been to such a crowded event before, especially one where he's the main focus.

♡ He'd need to lay his head in your lap and relax as he plays with your dress. The fabric felt so pleasing under his fingers. He was so in love with every part of you. He needed to be as close to you as possible after being kept from you, and from being in public with you. He cherished alone time like this.

♡ Once he's rested up, you'd have to unpack all your gifts! Each survivor and hunter gifted you something for your domestic life with Andrew. Matching mugs, blankets, cutlery, paintings... you were drowning in presents.

♡ It took an hour, but you finally unwrapped and stored everything away.

♡ Which leads to...

NSFW ;;

♡ You and Andrew have had sex before. Maaany times. He views it as making up for lost time, it helps with his insecurities, and he enjoys making you feel good. Andrew will do everything in his power to make sure the lovemaking on your wedding night is nothing short of magical.

♡ When you're settled at home and can't think of any more chores to do, Andrew is more anxious than he's ever been. His face is red in a furious blush and he's barely able to muster a sentence as he stands stiffly, lustful eyes on you.

♡ He knows what couples are meant to do on their wedding nights, and he's so excited to make your wishes come true, but this poor boy has no idea how to initiate things. Whenever you make love, it's because he's visibly horny but too anxious to say anything so you take care of him.

♡ You approached your husband, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you stared up into his eyes. He didn't look at you or respond to your inquiry of whether he's okay or not. The growing tent in his pants spoke for itself.

♡ Your eyes widened when you felt his erection brush against your thigh. He could tell that you felt his arousal ー because he hoisted you up bridal style and pressed an openmouthed kiss to your lips. He was going to take you, and he was going to do it right.

♡ His sudden burst of confidence lead to him carrying you to your bedroom, and he gave you another kiss before gently placing you down on the bed.

♡ Andrew wouldn't know what to do next. He wants you eat you out for hours but... your dress is in the way. And he doesn't feel like taking it off just yet. No, he wants to take his sweet time with you. It's your wedding night, after all.

♡ His solution? Dry humping. He's always adored being able to rut against you like a wild animal, and getting to do so in your elegant wedding gear has him rearing to go. He doesn't want to soil your gown, no, he just wants to do something absolutely filthy in attire that's meant to be for a ceremony all about you.

♡ He would spread your legs as far as they possibly could go in your dress. When he hikes your dress up to your lower stomach and finally sees the sweet dessert laid out just for him, he's bucking his hips into the cold air for any sense of relief.

♡ He'd press his clothed cock against your panties and see stars. His lovely wife was so close to him but so far... he wasn't sure how long he could last like this.

♡ Andrew ground against you in a frenzy, arms snaking around your back as his face nestled itself in the crook of your neck, sucking sweet little kisses onto the flesh. He groaned when he rubbed against you just right, aiming to hit the same spots over and over again.

♡ He wouldn't let your needs go unnoticed. Andrew would angle himself to rub against your clit, and he'd pay special attention to your neck as he desperately got himself off with your body.

♡ The low groan that escaped from his lips as he came into his boxers went straight to between your legs. As he rode out his high, he'd push your panties aside and finish you off with his fingers before pulling away. Something about cumming before even getting his clothes off made him growl with need. And it made him desire you even more than he already did; skin to skin this time.

♡ Andrew asked you to undress him. You felt him shudder underneath you as you removed his suit and got him out of his pants. Stripping him reminded you that beneath all the cologne and hair gel, it was still your Andrew. His scarred body yearned for yours and you were more than happy to press a chaste kiss to his chest once he was undressed, your way of telling him you loved him.

♡ Your husband would ask you to sit in his lap, right on top of his aching boner just begging to be touched, and grind against it as he undid the several seams on your back.

♡ Andrew loves mirrors. He doesn't like seeing himself in them, but you? He could watch you be undressed through a mirror all day long. He thinks his hands look good when they're unbuttoning the fabric keeping him from you.

♡ You looked so radiant that Andrew would need to fuck you in front of a mirror just to truly see you.

♡ He would take his sweet time with you, for every untied string he would thrust up to grind against your clothed pussy and nibble your shoulders. Hearing you mewl in his lap causes his hands to fumble as he undresses you. He wondered just how someone could be so cute every time a moan is pulled from your throat.

♡ Andrew felt a little dejected once your dress was ready to come off. He would miss seeing you in it.

♡ ...Those feelings didn't last long, though. The moment he laid eyes on your bare body he was surging with confidence and hunger.

♡ "You look so ravishing... my... my wife..." he muttered, mostly to himself. It appeared he was still in disbelief that you were a wedded couple. Throughout the night he'd periodically mumble to himself that you were his wife, or he'd call you Mrs Kreiss. It had a lovely ring to it.

♡ Andrew wants ー no, needs ー to taste you after being away from you for so long. He would eat you out like a man starved.

♡ Positioning his face between your thighs, Andrew licked a sloppy stripe up your pussy, stopping right below your clit. Then he'd lick back down, avoiding the place where you needed him most. Your frustrated groans earned a soft chuckle from Andrew. He wanted to draw this out... he was in a playful mood.

♡ He massaged your thighs as he teased your folds, finally pulling away to ask you the question that would be the death of you. "Tell me what you want, my... wife..." his voice dropped in volume when he reached your title. He didn't care in that moment how cheesy it sounded, this was the ultimate night to be sappy with his angel.

♡ "Enough teasing, Andrew, please... eat me out," you'd weep through gritted teeth as your husband nibbled your thighs and nodded his head in response your pleas.

♡ Now that he's gotten you riled up for him (he wants to feel needed), he's not holding back. Andrew is the king of being unintentionally rough. He'd leave your core battered from how deep his licks are and how his chin smacks against your soft flesh.

♡ The moment Andrew feels you contract and twitch around him, he's slipping a wet finger into your walls to torture you further. He won't stop his ministrations even as you cum hard around him.

♡ He's extra passionate for your wedding night which translates into him not giving you a break. He doesn't want to pull away from your pussy, he wants to keep his head burrowed between your legs for as long as he possibly can. His tongue is going to commit every inch of you to memory tonight.

♡ If you really want to make this night worth your while, tackle Andrew once you feel overwhelmed and turn the tables on him.

♡ He loves when you take control and take him by surprise. One minute he was devouring you, and the next you've pushed his back against the headrest and you're lowering your head dangerously close to his cock.

♡ He wants you to feel good even as you suck him off, so Andrew will finger you while your lips are wrapped around his dick. He'll angle himself so the palm of his hand rubs against your sensitive nub. It drives him wild how sloppy your strokes and licks are when you're on the verge of cumming.

♡ He'd prefer to cum in your mouth. It's an intimate night, he doesn't want you to be completely covered in his seed just yet. He'd rather save that for the honeymoon.

♡ Chest heaving against your back, Andrew's next move is to pull you into his lap again. Remember how much he loves mirrors? He'll seat you right on his cock and direct your face with his hands to look right into the mirror across from your bed.

♡ "My wife," he'd murmur into your shoulder before snapping his hips into yours.

♡ Having Andrew's mouth so close to your ears means you'll get to hear every gasp and purr that he emits. And he makes a lot of quiet noises he tries to hide.

♡ Andrew made sure to cup a hand around your breasts and kiss your neck & lips as well. He wants to surround you. He wants all of your senses to be overtaken by him until you can't function.

♡ He would whisper praise into your ear, telling you how beautiful you look and how good you feel around him. It's not like him to be this bold and dominant but you're loving it.

♡ Andrew asked to cum inside you that night. When he finally reached his climax, he lifted you up so he could admire the string of cum connecting the husband to his wife. He was addicted to the sight and made sure to capture it in his memories for as long as he could.

♡ After several more rounds of rough licks and hard thrusts, Andrew would want something more soft and classic with you.

♡ Gently lowering you onto the mattress, Andrew would hover over you and press a tender kiss to your lips. With one long thrust, he'd fill you right up and stay like that, your hands connecting.

♡ His thrusts would be slow and sensual, making love to you rather than just fucking you. Don't be surprised if you feel hot tears drop onto your shoulders. This is one of the most sentimental moments of Andrew's whole life.

♡ Your tongues would dance as your lips locked in an intense kiss, you can tell how desperately he's trying to last and make this feel good for you.

♡ Andrew quickly repositioned himself to hit that spot inside of you. He's committed the location to memory, and wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't relentlessly batter it tonight.

♡ Your sudden gasps caused his thrusts to grow frantic, his hot breath fanning onto your neck as he plowed you into the mattress.

♡ You could feel his smirk on your skin when you began to pulse around him.

♡ "Good girl..." he would purr, rubbing circles on the back of your hand as you rode out your high. Hearing your cries of pure ecstasy pushed Andrew over the edge, and he emptied himself into you. You had never felt so stuffed before.

♡ Once you've decided you had enough, Andrew's entire demeanour changes. Before, he was determined to push your limits and hear your cries, while now he's insisting that you take a bath. He feels awful that he ruined your hair and makeup, plus you're littered with hickeys and your thighs are stained with seed... he doesn't know that you wouldn't have it any other way.

#andrew kreiss x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines #andrew kreiss smut #andrew kreiss #andrew kreiss imagine

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 8

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The town comes together to help a family hit particularly bad by the tornado. A conversation with you helps Loki come to a decision. Chapter Warnings: a lot of mutual pining A/N: I’m really excited about this story now. There’s some great things coming up! Any predictions about where I’m going with this? I’d love to hear them! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @marvelousdaydreams @parkastoria @lokistan

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

You and your family had been pretty lucky in the aftermath of the tornado, but unfortunately the same could not be said for your neighbors. The family at the next farm over, the Campbells, whole barn had been blown away. Thankfully, they didn’t suffer any physical injuries, but the wound to their bank account had been decent. That’s why a bunch of people from town were pitching in to help them. In fact, they were preparing for a barn raising at the very minute, something Loki had never even imagined existed before. Actually, the whole idea of a close-knit community like this had never really occurred to him. When he was young, he wasn’t really allowed out into the streets of Asgard, and when he was old enough to decide that for himself, he’d lost his interest.

“You ready, son?” Papa asked, clapping Loki on the back.

“Indeed,” he replied, putting his hair in a low bun to keep it out of his face during the work. “Would it be odd if I said I was a little excited?”

“It is surprisingly fun,” John laughed. “But we’re actually supposed to be trying to talk you out this. You still need to take it easy. ‘Doctor’s orders.’”

He nodded in your direction where you were talking with your friends. Even though you seemed happy, you kept throwing little worried glances at Loki. The whole ordeal with tornado was nearly a week ago, but it seemed to have made you nervous for Loki’s health again. He would have thought that his agility and speed would have reassured you, but it actually did the opposite. You kept insisting that he may have re-injured something and not even noticed. You sent another nervous look his way, but your gaze lingered a little longer, noticing his hairstyle. Half the reason he ever wore it this way was because of how much you obviously liked it.

Mr. and Mrs. Campbell made a little speech thanking everyone for coming out, and then the work began. It was slow moving at first, what with having to get the main supports up soundly and all, but soon the pace picked up. By the time they were working on the roof, Loki could feel the energy of the mortals around him had dropped considerably. Being the god that he was, though, he was tireless enough to finish the barn on his own. Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone that, especially when Papa kept insisting he take a break.

All the girls, and a few guys too, were marveling over Loki’s uncanny strength. He was by no means the most ripped man there, but he was certainly the strongest. Everyone was impressed by just how much he could lift, and he delighted in the general shock the crowd had. And now that he’d shown just how strong he was, people had certainly started paying attention to his muscles, which were there, mind you, but just too lean to notice at first glance. He didn’t much care for any of those stares, though, unless they coming from you. Alas, you’d left a little while ago to help Ana with Matt. Now, however, you were coming back, and Loki redoubled his efforts to show off. Especially because it seemed that Denzel had the same idea. Loki couldn’t even think that man’s name without rolling his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to Loki and offering him some trail mix, a Midgardian snack he was surprisingly fond of. “I thought you might need some refreshments. Have you eaten anything all day?”

“Do not worry. I have been taking care of myself,” he replied, setting down a pile of wood. “Still, you have my thanks, darling.”

“No problem.” You looked down at your feet as you kicked a rock, building up the confidence to say your next sentence. “I, uh, I really like your hair like that, by the way. It looks good.”

Loki’s face took a crimson shade yet again, and he couldn’t help but smile. The effect you had on him always made him feel a wild mix of emotions. On the one hand, the reaction bothered him to no end. On the other, he was just used to it at his point.

“Is that so,” he said as if he hadn’t already figured it out. “Perhaps I should wear it this way more often then.”

“Oh! You don’t have to. I mean, of course you can if you want to. But I didn’t mean that you had to or anything. Wear it how you like it.” He smirked at your flustered babbling. “Ana, Matt! Can we have some of that water?”

He chuckled at how you had to call them over to save you from your embarrassment, something he found rather adorable. Now that he’d admitted his feelings to himself, he kept finding little things about you to obsess over. Today, it was apparently how cute you are when you’re nervous.

“You really should drink more, being out in the heat all day like this,” you told him, going back into doctor mode.

“What would I do without you,” he teased.

“Loki!” Matt cheered upon reaching him. “I wanna help build too!”

“Now, now Matt. What did mommy say?” Ana asked the boy.

“Mommy said no,” he replied with a little frown. “But Loki didn’t say no!”

“I am sorry, little one. You must listen to your mother,” Loki said, picking the child up. “One day when you are bigger and stronger you will get to help.”

“But will you still be here, Loki?”

The boy’s question gave him a pause. Would he still be there? Did he want to be? It was impossible to answer that first question, considering he couldn’t see the future. Plus, he was in constant danger of being found out and having to run. But that second question he knew the answer to. Something about this small town had charmed him, and being asked right now, he would say he never wanted to leave. He wondered if he would always feel that way, though. Looking into your eyes, he was pretty sure he would.

“I truly do not know, but I would very much like to be.”

“Yay!” Matt exclaimed, throwing his tiny arms around Loki.

Ana chuckled at the child’s excitement while you smiled warmly at Loki. Even though he’d already told you how he felt about this place, your eyes went wide at the fact he’d so boldly declare it to everyone. He only wished he could be so bold when it came to declaring his feelings for you.

Soon, he was back at work helping to build the barn. Unfortunately, John and Papa were up on the roof, and Loki knew very few other people there. So, when Denzel struck up a conversation with him, there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“So,” Denzel said, “You been seeing a doctor about this memory loss of yours. ‘Cause, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned, but I’m a-”

“Doctor,” Loki cut him off, gritting his teeth. “Yes, I know. It has been mentioned. Several times. But what kind of doctor, may I ask?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’m a pediatrician.”

“I see. A noble profession, indeed. Though I am guessing you are not the best equipped to handle my amnesia, hmm?”

“No, I guess not. But I could definitely recommend someone.”

“I do appreciate it,” Loki confessed, though he suspected there were underlying reasons for Denzel’s concern. Namely, having Loki out of the way so he could get to you easier. “But everything is alright for now. I shall let you know if the situation changes.”

“Ok then.”

They lapsed into silence as they picked up more wood for construction, Denzel seeming a little shocked by just how much Loki was able to carry. Which definitely wasn’t even more than he had previously been taking just to intimidate the man.

“Hey, listen,” Denzel said while they helped work to make the walls, nodding in your direction. “Guy to guy, have they mentioned me at all?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact they have. I do not think you will like it, though.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well, I guess that just means I’ve gotta work twice as hard to show them how serious I am about wanting them back.”

“Yes, I do suppose- Wait! No,” Loki said, not having expected that to be his answer. “I do not think that is in your best interest.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure you don’t think it’s in your best interest?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“So then you’re fine with me asking them out?”

“Only if you are fine with being rejected.”

They stood glaring at each other until they were able to move to work on separate sections. Loki was desperately trying to not feel so jealous and anxious. After all, you’d explicitly said that you did not want to be with Denzel, but there was still that little bit of uncertainty. Perhaps you’d changed your mind and decided to give him a second chance.

“You alright there, son?” Papa asked, coming down from the roof.

“You better not pass out,” John added, following close behind. “You know we’re going to be the ones who get in trouble if you do.”

“I assure you, I am fine,” Loki replied, trying not to sound too sad. He was failing. “You need not worry.”

“Oh, I bet I know what this is about. I saw you talking with Denzel.”

“No, nope,” Loki shushed, putting up a finger. “Go no further, please.”

“Ok, fine, whatever you say. Just thought you might want to know that the Campbell’s are planning a little thank you party tonight. It would be the perfect chance to tell a certain someone how you feel.”

“Reckon you ever went to a barn dance in your past life?” Papa asked.

Loki’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He’d never heard of anything like it on Asgard, though he could fathom what it was due to the rather self-explanatory name. It was a thrilling prospect to go to it, considering he’d only ever been to uptight, boring balls. As a child, he’d stir up some mischief to make things more interesting, but he’d always get a serious scolding from his father. Not to mention Thor was the center of attention more often than not.

“I do not believe I would have, though I am looking forward to the opportunity now,” Loki shared as they set back work again.

The rest of the day went much the same, and though he didn’t get to spend as much time with you as he would have liked, Loki had quite a bit of fun with John and Papa. His attachment to you all was rather dangerous, as was the fact that he cared it was. At least he was able to mask his emotions, much like he was so adept at doing before this whole ordeal.

By dinnertime, the barn was completed and only a select few remained to help set up for the party. Your family, however, went the short distance back home to freshen up after helping out all day. Well, Matt didn’t help much. Instead he just romped and played, though it could be argued he helped by brightening everyone’s day. Regardless, after changing your clothes you were all ready to set out again. Loki did a double take as he walked out onto the porch; you looked more beautiful than ever before. He always thought you looked amazing, but standing there in the fading light of day, it struck him anew.

“You know, Loki,” John said, putting his hands on the god’s shoulders and speaking low enough that you couldn’t hear him. “A friendly word of advice, you should just go for it.”

“But-”

“No more ‘buts’ mister,” Ana reprimanded as she walked up and passed her son to her husband. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but you two need to stop being oblivious dorks and make a move already. No offense.”

“None taken, I suppose,” he said, though it wasn’t wholly true. Him an oblivious dork? Nonsense, not the God of Mischief. “Though I still must insist that I do not know to what any of you are referring. Hypothetically, if I did, do you really believe I have a chance?”

“Yes. And a very good one at that.”

They left Loki mull over his thoughts. When they passed you, you finally turned around and saw Loki standing there, his now loose hair slightly wavy from having been up all day. He was frozen like stone under your tender gaze, afraid of his emotions and unable to take what Ana and John had said to heart. It wasn’t until your smile faltered a little at his expressionless trance that he was able to move out of the doorway.

“My darling, I hope you know how radiant you look this evening,” he told you, a light blush coating his cheeks, still so pale even after so many days out in the sun.

“It’s nothing special, really,” you said with a nervous laugh. “But thank you all the same.”

“My pleasure.”

His fingers brushed against yours and on instinct you intertwined them. He brought your hand to his mouth, lips ghosting over your knuckles, reminding him of that day when he apologized to you. He’d performed the same action back then. With time and perspective, he realized that was the day he was pushed completely off the edge and into love with you. You took a step closer, your bodies nearly pressed against each other. The warmth radiating off of you gave the frost giant a pause, your hands still clasped together, now semi-awkwardly hovering near his head.

“Hey Loki,” you began as he quirked an eyebrow to urge you on. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and leaning in. “I... I... I-”

“I suppose we should be on our way now,” Mama announced, coming out of the house.

You sheepishly broke apart and agreed with her, your small group heading over to your neighbor’s. Upon arrival, Loki noted how it was even more lively than earlier, which was really saying something. It seemed that everyone who came by during the day to help with the build was back now, and the whole place was a hubbub of activity. Your friends were quick to whisk you away into the thick of it, and seeing as how everyone else had left before you, Loki was now left alone with Mama.

“You can go if you want,” she said. “I’m not much for crowds.”

“I must confess, I am not either.”

“I see.”

Despite having come to some kind of agreement, the air between them was still tense. The past week had been filled with a lot of throat clearing and stiff conversation. Somehow, he preferred the snippy and snide remarks from the woman. They were, at least, a lot less gawky than what their interactions were now. Thankfully, they were saved from the stilted small talk by food. As it turned out, they were both quite a fan of apple pie, and Mrs. Campbell made a mighty good one.

Eventually, Papa sought them out in the crowd and did a bit of a double take to see them amicably chatting. He ushered them inside to where you and the rest of your family were standing just as the dancing was about to begin.

“Pardon me, darlin’,” Denzel said, tapping you on the shoulder. He bowed down a little and put out his hand as Loki rolled his eyes. “May I have this dance?”

“Oh! I would love to, really, but I already promised Loki,” you said turning to him. “Shall we then?”

“We shall,” Loki replied, beaming.

Of course, the two of you had not planned on dancing together, but he was preening under the lie you’d told to your ex. The fact that you chose him completely unprompted made his heart grow wings and soar above the clouds. As for the dance, it was easy enough to follow the caller’s directions. This was the first time Loki had ever danced so causally, but his nimble feet, which were much more accustomed to waltzes and other Asgardian dances, were able to catch on rather quickly. It didn’t take him long to determine the square dance was his favorite one of the night.

After a couple more hours of dancing and avoiding Denzel, you and Loki snuck off, not before making a quick stop to thank your hosts, of course. The two of you went to your own family’s barn and climbed up to the loft, settling down in the plushy blankets and pillows you kept up there for chilly nights such as this. The conversation stayed light for a while, but it inevitably took a turn toward more serious topics.

“I was asking around today,” you said. “I’m so sorry, Loki, but no one had any clue who you were.”

“It is ok, do not concern yourself with this. If I did not know any better, I would say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m really not, I swear,” you said, chewing your bottom lip, though Loki had been fully teasing. “No one is anymore, really.”

“Are you sure about that?” he inquired, thinking of Denzel.

“Why did someone say something to you?”

“No. It is like I said, do not worry.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you snuggled further into his side, desperate to keep the cold away. He put his arms around you and squeezed you tighter, saying a little heating enchantment in his head.

“You know, I think James would’ve liked you,” you decided, eyelids beginning to droop.

“Perhaps. But...”

“Yes?”

“But there is still so much we do not know about me. What if have done something terrible?”

“While I’m sure you haven’t, let’s say you did do something you’re not proud of,” you indulged him. “The only thing stopping us from having a present we can enjoy and a future we can love, is a past we can’t forget.”

“Well, I do not remember, anyway. But what if it is really bad?”

“All I mean is, you have to be able to forgive. To let go.”

He could hear in your tone that you were thinking of your brother. As much as he did not want to admit it, Loki would have been upset had Thor died. He could only imagine the pain you felt when you’d heard the news. But he supposed you were able to forgive whoever it was whose irresponsibility had led to James’s death. It was yet another thing to admire about you, for sure.

“I suppose you are right.”

“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, finally letting your tired head drop and nuzzling into his shoulder.

He brought you down to a more comfortable position, laying down with your head on his chest, letting his heart beat wildly in your ear. Lying awake, he thought back to what he’d said earlier about wanting to stay forever. Lingering in the back of his mind was always the knowledge that he most likely would not be able to. If he were, though, would he still want to? A large part of himself still wanted to loathe the domestic simplicity of this life. In a way, being so far removed from everything, living high up in palace towers, was easier. Still, he could not find it in himself to dislike this quaint town with charming people. Plus, there was you.

The little sigh of contentment that you made as he hugged you closer let him completely make up his mind. This was where he wanted to stay, this is what he wanted, and he’d do everything he could to make sure he got to keep it.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well.”

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what-big-teeth · 4 years

Text

Heal (Male Fae ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @serenitydusk requested a story with the female reader being a witch who encounters a male fae. Like I said before, my muse grabbed hold to her wonderful ideas and refused to let go until there was story that incorporated those elements (all 11 eleven pages worth). So I hope you all enjoy this fic!

tw: blood ; injury ; attempted break in Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster The forest is alive in more ways than one.

The verdant green of the trees and underbrush is near blinding. The shade of the rich soil almost appears jet black. And the scent of the fresh blooms is short of addictive; almost mouthwatering.

All signs of the Fae.

You’ve known this fact ever since you moved to the outskirts of your picaresque, rural town. The power ebbing and flowing from the surrounding land told you as much. You haven’t pinpoint the exact source, and you’re fine with not knowing.

Some stones are better left unturned.

You know the land you live on is not your own. So you leave offerings near the thickening edge of the forest, where the old trail has been reclaimed by nature. Today, you offer a small jar of honey, freshly gathered from a nearby hive; untouched, chilled milk in a glass bottle; and healing salves neatly packed and tied in dense cloth. The latter is always gone when you return to give more offerings the next day.

Since you’ve begun paying your respects, in return, your decrepit cottage has slowly recovered from the damage caused by time and the elements. The musty scent covered up by the herbal bundles hanging from the ceiling has turned naturally sweet. The molded cracks and leaks in the walls and roof no longer exist. And most importantly, your meager foraging has grown bountiful, leaving you with an excess of ingredients to use. Most of it for your famed healing salves and ointments. You can’t help but smile knowing your work is just as popular among the Good Neighbors as it is among the townsfolk.

Which is why today, you’re able to head into town to answer a house call.

You tuck away another container of pain-relieving ointment then slide the top of your leather satchel in place. After a final glimpse at your cold hearth and sun-filled workshop, you set off.

The main path into town leads eastward, past two, towering rows of conifers. Their citrus, piney scent engulfs you with every step.

By the time you reach the town’s entrance, the sun is almost high in the sky. The townsfolk are up and about with many greeting you cordially. You do the same, but keep pace towards your destination. A few fallen leaves and pine needles cling to your light cloak; you know the fabric is suffused with the forest’s scent. Your patient won’t mind, but her caretaker may be offended.

Once your feet carry you down a narrow, cobbled street and to a bold, blue door, you lift your hand and give the barrier three solid knocks. There isn’t enough time to pluck away every needle and dust off every leaf before the door wrenches opens.

Roderick regards you with a critical eye, as if the piercing stare will send you scuttling back to your cottage. You stand your ground instead, and give him a pleasant, practiced smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Tate. I’m here for Mrs. Hale‘s weekly house call.”

You quickly learned to never call Edith anything but Mrs. Hale in his presence. The first time you did, your affront nearly left you without the gold coin and tip she promised you. So you adapted and now tread carefully, letting Roderick hear what he’d prefer. But great god and goddess if he didn’t make your attempts at pleasantries difficult.

Roderick hums low then steps away from the threshold. You swiftly enter in case he decides to change his mind.

“Mother is near the hearth. She insisted on preparing some tea,” he says, voice tightening. “‘For our guest’”, she said.

Roderick can barely think of you as such thanks to how you’ve proclaimed yourself a witch. You hope, with time, he’ll slowly come around. Just as many of the other townsfolk have.

You thank him and follow him the short distance to the kitchen. Edith sits at their small dining table, her wizened, deep brown hands clutching the steaming mug before her. Her wide nose flares as she inhales the vapors as the fresh scent of peppermint prickles your nose. One of your favorites.

“Roddy, is that the healer?” Her dark, rheumy eyes squint in your direction and her wrinkled face lifts with a smile. “It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“Likewise, ma’am.”

As much as you wish to greet her properly with a hug or a pat to the back of her hand, you ignore the urge. Roderick could easily kick you out for not treating his mother-in-law with the “proper respect”. Instead, you remove your satchel and take the empty seat across from her.

“Roddy,” she says, “be a dear and pour our guest some tea, will you?”

You glance at Roderick; he looks as if he’s swallowed a bitter draught. But he does as his mother-in-law asks then stands at the kitchen entrance, like a sentinel. No matter. You’re here for Edith and her alone.

As you both chat about summer’s approach and her change in hairstyle, you examine her hands. You carefully bend each finger, checking her expression for any signs of pain. None. You then move on to her wrists and see her twinge at the slight movement.

“It’s better than it was before,” she says.

“That’s good, but I’d still like you to keep using the compress and herbal infusion. Warm the infusion and apply it three times a day, as before.”

“Yes, yes. Roddy will help me, won’t you dear?”

As you place some lengths of cotton wool and dried herbs for the infusion on the table, the crinkle of Roderick’s lips and nose lessens.

“Of course, Mother. You only need to ask.”

Edith smiles beatifically before her mouth falls open.

“Oh, you haven’t finished your tea.”

With the way Roderick’s nostrils flare, you know you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“What I managed to have was delicious,” you say, patting the back of her free hand. “I should get going.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner? Roddy can walk you back to your cottage afterwards.”

His gritted jaw says otherwise. You kindly decline Edith’s invitation and gather your satchel.

Roderick leads you to the front door, holding it open as you pass through. A harsh jingling from his person draws your attention.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a leather pouch your way. “Your coin.”

You carefully take it from his tense, outstretched hand.

“Thank—”

The door slams shut.

“...you.”

The bustle from the town’s main square drifts through the air. With a sigh, you turn back the way you came. There are a few items you need to purchase before returning home.

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Like many times before, your offering of healing salves has vanished from where you’ve left it. But surprisingly, so has the fresh honey and milk. That hasn’t happened before. Believing this to be a good sign, you smile and walk back in the direction of your cottage.

You arrive just as the sun has nearly vanished beneath the horizon, before the more natural denizens of the forest have fully awakened. You slide the wooden security bar in front of the door and light your hearth, as you do every night. Your mouth stretches open in a wide yawn, but you ignore the temptation to bathe and curl up in your bed. There are some herbs that need to be hung for drying and your recent tincture needs to be strained. So first—

You hear a knock at the door.

Your brows knit together; you’re not expecting any company. The townsfolk know better than to venture into the forest so close to nighttime.One knock becomes two. Then three, four, five. Silence. You only hear the chirping and buzzing of the usual nocturnal insects. The tight grip on your cloak loosens. Perhaps the person has—

A dull “thwack” sounds against the door. It’s followed by a creaking wrench and a deep grunt of effort. Then again and again. You know the sounds intimately. You’ve passed by men from the town felling trees for firewood in the fall.

The person outside is breaking in.

You nearly lose your footing backing away from the source of the sound. Your gaze darts around your workshop. The knives you own aren’t meant for injuring or self-defense. They pale in comparison to a sharpened axe.

The axe bites into the door with more force. The wood groans. Splinters. The blade hits true again. You see a hint of it through the door. Your stomach roils.

But you manage to swallow your scream. You refuse to give the intruder any pleasure from the palpable fear gripping your chest. Even as your lungs struggle to draw in air, you whip around and grab one of your paring knives. You aim it towards the door and brace yourself for what’s to come next.

There’s a pained yell, mingled with a sharp curse. A growl then an animalistic scream, aimed away from your door. Grunts and groans, which you recognize as signs of struggling. They’re cut off by a weighty ‘thud’ and a lighter one that swiftly follows. The sounds of the forest are muted and you stand unharmed in one piece. But how?

With slow careful steps, you edge towards the damaged door. You place your paring knife on the floor and slide the security bar away, swiftly picking up your knife once the plank is secured.

The would-be intruder lays on the ground in a crumpled heap, their face pressed into the grass. An arrow pierces their flesh just beneath their shoulder, its fletching of hawk feathers ruffling in the night’s breeze. You can’t help but wince; for the shot to have fractured bone, the strength behind such an attack had to be enormous.

Looking up, you see the source of that strength.

Your savior stands half a stone’s throw away, cloaked in shadows. What little light remains from the sinking sun acts as a backlight, revealing his silhouette. You’re able to see the outline of their quiver and longbow. They’re of humanoid shape, but something about his head makes you uncertain.It’s then you realize the odd shapes framing his head are large, curled horns. And see the glowing, green pinpoints staring at you. Not human. But fae.

Neither of you move from where you stand. Part of you wants to, however, not wishing to incur the wrath of this Kindly Neighbor. But you’re frozen where you stand. Perhaps by his power.

“You are unharmed?”

The masculine voice would be soothing if not for the rasping edges surrounding it. He sounds injured, but you have no way of confirming your suspicions. You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

“Yes, I am. I…appreciate your aid and concern.”

The fae scoffs.

“Your thanks is misplaced,” he says. “I’m merely reinforcing the laws of the forest established by its ruler. Nothing more.”

A groan interrupts your thoughts on how to continue the conversation. The bulky, would-be intruder shifts his head against the ground, turning their tanned face away from the dirt. You’re able to make out his features thanks to your lit hearth, and find them familiar.Roderick isn’t the only one in town who is wary of you. But he is the most forward with his actions and words. The man lying near your home is one of his friends.

You stifle the curse building behind your tongue. The fae have never condoned vulgarity and you don’t wish to make things worse in this delicate situation.

“You should return indoors,” the fae says suddenly. “And find a way to deafen your hearing.”

A sharp chill rushes down your spine.

“May I ask why?”

You think you hear his grip clench tighter around his bow.

“This man’s actions have assured his death.”

Your stomach plummets as your mouth opens before you’re able to stop it.

“Please don’t!”

The unnatural silence amplifies the pounding in your head. The fae hisses, his body shifting in a stilted manner as he hunches forward to guard his middle. So he is injured.

“And why should I show him mercy?” he rasps out.

“This man has family and friends,” you say. “If they came to search for him, they could disrupt the peace of the town and the forest in general. I don’t wish for any innocents to accidentally bring the forest’s wrath onto their heads because of him.”

Because not even you, who many of the townsfolk believe to be powerful, wish to incur the wrath of the forest itself.

The fae says nothing in return and you fear he’ll deny your request. After a strong heartbeat, you speak again.

“Please do this and I’ll tend to your wounds until you fully heal.”

Your sense of logic catches up to you and decries your words as dangerous. You know what the Kindly Ones do for anyone must be repaid in kind by their own terms. But you don’t take them back. Because avoiding any harm befalling the townsfolk is better than having it seep into the town or fall upon it like sudden deluge. This thought alone keeps your gaze stalwart as the night settles around you.

“Done.”

The weight of your agreement settles beneath your skin and latches onto your bones. It’s a warning; if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, the oath will find another way. One that’s more grievous.

The fae stalks over to the fallen man. His ram skull mask and long, inky, black hair coming into view. He slowly hefts Roderick’s friend up onto his feet with a claw-tipped hand. If it weren’t for the bloodied slash interrupting the pale white skin of his torso, you believe he could do so without effort. Surprisingly, Roderick’s friend groans then startles, crying out as he agitates his injury.

“Listen to me.”

An otherworldly reverberation bolster’s the fae voice. Roderick’s friend goes ramrod straight.

“You will run back home like the cur you are. You will tell the one who sent you how displeased I am. And if he should step foot in this forest, my hounds will hunt him down and rend him apart. Then come for you.”

The man screams as if facing death incarnate. And in a way, he is. The fae releases him and he runs down the path into town. The fae snorts at the sight, swaying unsteadily.

“One last thing,” he says, his gaze finding yours. “Do not remove my mask.”

He then falls over in a heap.

The forest comes to life again moments later, as if the last few occurrences never happened. You curse freely, the reality of your situation becoming apparent. Clenching your jaw so as not to hear your teeth chatter, you rush over towards the fae. The rhythmic rise and fall of his bloodstained chest makes you sigh with relief.

It takes a great deal of strength and energy—neither which you barely have due to the long day—to drag him inside. It’s only after securing your home again that you keep hauling him towards the rug before the hearth. Sweat beads your brow once you finish. One obstacle done. Checking over his injury reveals some stemming thanks to the clumpings of dried blood. That gives you enough time to create a makeshift bed and gather what you need. Warm water, pieces of cotton cloth, ointment and healing salve…

The blood that once stained his skin now clings to your hands. But thanks to your attentiveness, the injury is concealed beneath a generous amount of medicine and two layers of cotton cloth. Your patient shifts against the thick quilt and pillows beneath him. A good sign.

“You’ll need to remain here for a few days for the wound to heal properly.” You rub your clean forearm against your clammy brow. “Is that alright?”

“Whatever it takes to hide my moment of weakness,” he rumbles curtly.

You resist the urge to curl your lip. He’ll be just fine.

“Shall I leave the hearth lit for you?”

“No need. I can sleep without it.”

With an accepting hum, you place a blanket onto his brown breeches, ensuring it doesn’t touch his wound.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Pleasant dreams.”

A sense of wrongness almost overcomes you with him inside your home. Luckily, you’re able to stave it off. You know you’ve done the right thing. You’ve saved an innocent family from the attention of the fae. You’ve saved a guilty if foolish man from a pain worse than death. These realizations bolster you, becoming a calming mantra.As you finish straining your tincture and hanging your herbal bundles to dry, you feel as if you’re being watched. You refuse to turn and confirm this, your shoulders hunching.

“Conall,” he says.

You nearly drop the damp, clean sieve in your hand.

“Pardon?”

“You may call me Conall. It should help make my temporary stay easier.”

He falls silent immediately after. It’s only after ensuring the green pinpoints have vanished that you heat up your bathing water, douse the hearth, and retreat to your room.You hope he heals and leaves soon; time cannot pass fast enough. But you know it won’t.

Slumber pricks at your mind and it coaxes you into unawareness.

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

The awkward tension between you and Conall rears its head the next day. He accepts the food, drink, and aid you provide without a word. Which you are more than satisfied with. The only thing that stirs your annoyance is his staring.

Perhaps Conall hasn’t seen a human up close going through their usual routine. Or he hasn’t been inside of a human home. Either way, you feel the vivid pinpoints that are his eyes follow you when your back is turned. The strain comes to a head two days later, when Conall’s injury has begun scaring.

“What is it?” you snap.

If Conall is surprised by your tense words, you can’t tell due to his mask. It only serves to infuriate you more.

“You’ve stared at me as if trying to look right through me, even though I’m doing what I can to ensure your health. Yes, this is part of our original bargain. But I will not be made into some object in my own home! Why is it that you stare so much?”

Hints of frigid fear attempt to douse your building irritation. You stifle them easily, expecting a snide response.

“You are worth looking at,” he says. “Especially in my eyes.”

A new heat replaces your searing temper. One that floods your cheeks and heats your blood. Your mouth snaps shut and you swiftly finish wrapping cotton cloth around his torso.

“Y-Your injury is nearly healed,” you say, standing up and hurrying towards your filled basin. Thrusting your hands into the chilly water does nothing to help. “You should be able to move easily now. Perhaps leave in a few more days.”

“That is good to know, healer.” You hear something akin to mirth in his tone. “Perhaps I will get to see more of that fire you have hidden before then.”

You flee moments later, as much as you’re later loathed to admit. Even worse, his words stay lodged in your thoughts even into the next day. But that isn’t the only change you notice.

Conall begins to compliment your cooking, sincerely stating how comforting it is. He even aids you while you wrap his torso with fresh cotton cloth by holding it in place. During one long day after a promised house call, you find him asleep before the lit hearth. As expected. But the bundle of vivid, wildflowers awaiting you at the table is new.

So is the smile it brings to your lips and how you welcome it.

Soon enough, Conall begins to ask you about your house calls. About seeing Edith weekly. About Lucas, the little boy with golden-brown skin whose illness you’re monitoring. It isn’t surprising when the talks veer into more personal territory. He asks about your favored places in the forest and in town. What sweets you prefer. How you gather the offerings you leave near the forest’s edge.

“But how did you…”

Your voice trails off as his gaze darts away from yours. You smile and place your spoon into your cooling stew.

“I take it my healing salve is of the greatest use to you?”

Conall hums, lifting another bite of dinner underneath the pointed edge of his mask.

“The honey and milk are not unwelcomed,” he murmurs. “Perhaps that can be said about other things as well.”

This time, his eyes meet yours. And with a small thrill, you realize the sight of them no longer frightens you. Before your bravery leaves, you reach across your table and place your hand on the back of his.

“I agree.”

Your smile falters. As much as you wish to not ruin this peaceful moment, reality nudges at your mind like always.

“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

Conall pulls his hand away. Only to gently thread his fingers through yours, being careful of his claws. But he still skims your skin with them, making your shiver.

“Yes. But I will return, if you wish to wait for me.”

The breath you take is silent, but heavy. You release it as you laugh, happiness bubbling up from inside you.

“I do. For however long it takes.”

That night, before bed, Conall calls for you. As you kneel beside his makeshift bed in your nightshirt, he lifts his hand and cups your cheek. With his other hand slowly lifting his mask, he closes the distance between you. His lips press against your skin, then trail down the side of your neck before resting at your pulse. He lingers there, then gently scrapes his sharp teeth against the area. Your self-control nearly shatters then and there as he pulls away, replacing his mask.

“When the morning comes, I will be gone.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “But when I return, I plan to continue where I left off.”

You lift your own hand to touch the back of his.

“Can I know one thing before you go?”

He nods.

“Why is it you can’t remove your mask?”

His thumb stroking the warm skin of your cheek pauses stiffly before resuming.

“This...is my punishment for my recklessness,” he says. “It’s one of many shackles binding me to the Queen who rules over these lands and lands beneath the hills. As long as she holds them, I’ll never truly be free. All of my being will solely belong to her. My thoughts, my appearance, my strength, my skill. Anyone who attempts to remove those bindings will face her wrath. But no more.

“I have something precious to fight for and see again. Even if I have to challenge every member of her Hunt; even if I have to face her head on, I promise I will prevail. So that one day, you’ll find me standing before you, utterly freed.”

Hot tears slip from your eyes and he patiently wipes them away.

“I accept your bargain,” you say. He coaxes you closer, pulling you into a warm embrace. Even with your nightshirt acting as a barrier, you commit the feeling of what skin touches yours to memory.

Morning wakes you with a slight chill in the air. You lay on Conall’s makeshift bed a bit longer, inhaling the fading scent of him: deep and heady like the forest after a strong rain. This, too, you lock away in your heart as you stand to your feet. All that’s left to do is to wait.

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Days become weeks. And weeks turn into months. Soon enough, the harvesting festival is nearly here with the townsfolk preparing for the festivities. You still make your usual house calls, some to newer patients and others to familiar ones.

Little Lucas has long overcome his illness and is happy to play with the other children again. Edith always has a cup of herbal tea with honey ready for you, glad to talk to you about anything and everything. Roderick is nowhere to be found during these visits. But the few times you do glimpse him, he looks at you with muted fear. He may never change.

But at least now, he knows you aren’t to be trifled with.

That evening, after the festival, you finish creating another batch of ointment as the harvest moon illuminates the night sky. Fatigue slows your attempts at cleaning your tools, but you manage to finish the task. A series of knocks on your door startles you. Forgetfulness and drowsiness are to blame for you not securing your door.

Wary, you silently take the sharp dagger gifted to you by Edith a few weeks ago. You slowly walk towards the door and open it.

A shirtless man with vivid green pupils surrounded by black peers down at you. The scar running against the bridge of his straight, pale white nose nearly interrupts his entire face. One of the pointed tips of his ears is missing, replaced by a healing scab. But it and its twin are framed by familiar curling horns as is his head. His ragged yet long inky, black hair shifts as he sways. A wet gasp tears from your throat as he pitches forward and you break his fall.

“Conall!”

He buries his nose into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The hot breath he releases is tempered with a soft kiss on your skin.

“How I’ve missed this scent.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. You hold him close, sniffling against your tears.

“It seems I’m injured yet again,” he mutters wryly, sounding tired.

You place a hand against your beloved Conall’s cheek as he grins, being careful of the green bruising.

“I’ll take care of you,” you say. “If you’ll let me.”

The weight of your promise settles into your bones, palpable but not unpleasant. It even sends a shiver down your spine. Or is that caused by Conall’s warm smile?

You’re not sure. But at this moment, you don’t mind not knowing. Not as you close the distance between the two of you. Before the warmth of his kiss is all you know, he whispers against your skin.

“As long as I can do the same for you.”

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #fae boyfriend #fairy #fair folk #200 follower raffle #I hope you all enjoy!#fem reader #female reader

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 22

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 7.1k (Sorry, my babies had a lot to say in this chapter 😅)

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, cussing, guilt, dissociation, and mentions of child neglect (medical). Rated M

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @freckles-spangledvampire@mercury84choices @curiousconch @thegreentwin

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Chapter 22: Like To Be You.

I don't know what it's like to be you

I don't know what it's like but I'm dying to

If I could put myself in your shoes

Then I know what it's like to be you

Keiki was already awake when Bryce got out of his room. Eleanor's heart tore at the sight of him, as his eyes were reddened and his hair a bit disheveled, but she remained silent, observing how he sauntered towards the couch and took a seat beside Keiki. The girl had her eyes fixated on the TV but was barely paying attention to the documentary in front of her. "Hey, Keiks," he greeted, waiting for her to face him.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she looked up at him, “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Better,” she replied simply.

She was indeed better, she looked calmer, but everyone in the room knew her mind was very far from calm and good, especially considering that problem wouldn't be over in who knows how many more days.

He cleared his throat, shifting on the couch, uncomfortable, knowing that what he was about to ask would be very difficult for both of them, but it was for the better, "I know you mustn't want to relive those things, but… I would really appreciate it if you could tell me what happened, from the start. Elle already told me, but I really, really need to listen to this from you, if you're okay with it."

After a few seconds of silence, Keiki nodded, “Yeah, I think you deserve to know this from me,” she agreed and turned off the TV, leaving the room in complete silence.

Keiki took a deep breath and after wrapping her arms around her legs, she started to talk, not keeping anything, but doing a huge effort to not break like the last time.

She started by telling him she had been thinking about running away from home for months, because she felt lost and alone, and the situation at school was more and more unbearable, and she thought he would support her and understand her because he lived the same. But the breaking point had been what happened at the end of June, when she got sick and almost died of peritonitis, all because of their parents’ neglect. What’s worse is that they didn’t even care about her after that. They went to visit her and then to pick her up when she was discharged, but her mother never stayed more than five minutes to make her company, and while she was resting at home, it was just the same routine. She just dropped by her room to say hi and check if she was alive, but no more than that.

At that moment, Keiki realized that they only cared about reputation, about appearance, to portray the perfect family, and that they would never care about her, no matter what. That’s why she ran away, because even if she barely spoke with Bryce, he had shown more interest than her parents ever did.

That broke him of course, more than he already was. A simple call. A simple birthday call was more than her parents had given her.

Nevertheless, that was just another reason to fight for her. To give her the best and do something he should’ve done ages ago. To stand up to his parents and let them face the consequences of their actions, of their selfishness, and not let them get away with anything again.

After Keiki told him how things had happened, the only thing Bryce was able to do was apologizing, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there for you Keiki. If I had been there, you wouldn't have lived this, your life wouldn't have been at risk the way it was."

Even if Eleanor, or Keiki, or just a million people tried to convince him otherwise, no one could change his mind. Part of the reason that that had happened to Keiki was his fault, and surprisingly, saying that out loud made him feel less guilty. Like facing his responsibility with her was taking a lot of weight off his shoulders somehow. A decade of weight.

Keiki got up from the couch and started wandering around the living room, thinking, looking for the right words. As if it was really difficult for her to deny that downright. That although she didn't want to hold any grudges on him, it was simply the truth or part of the truth. If he had cared more for her, probably that wouldn't have happened.

Finally, she sat in her bed in the corner of the room, across from the couch, and confessed “I can’t deny that I thought about it many times… but they are my parents, they were supposed to look after me, and they didn’t. This was not your responsibility, much less if you weren’t living there.”

“I should’ve known better that they would be just like how they were with me, but I always felt they… they were different with you.”

“Maybe they were at some point, my mom above all” She shrugged, frowning her lips, “but after dad went out of jail, things changed. Mom kept pressuring me to be better and have a low profile, but that was it, she was more invested in dad and the meetings with that scumbag Jennings than in me.”

Bryce’s eyebrows furrowed in disconcert, “Wait, did you say… Jennings? As in Stuart Jennings?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Bryce shook his head, a glint of disappointment flashing his features.

“What?” Keiki insisted.

“When they were judging dad, the attorney accused Jennings of being his accomplice, but they could never prove anything, they said they weren’t friends, that they had no contact, so they dismissed the accusation. But I knew he was involved, I saw dad multiple times with him, at home and sneaking out in the Club. Now you’re telling me this dude has been frequenting the house?”

“Yes, mostly at night.”

“Did he go while dad was in jail?”

Keiki’s frowned, considering, “Maybe a couple of times, usually after mom went to see dad.”

Bryce shoved his hair in frustration, "I can't believe being in jail taught him anything, and keeps doing this bullshit!"

“But, if they were accomplices, why dad didn’t denounce him?” Keiki asked, after a few seconds, confused, “he wouldn't want to be the only one falling, would he?”

"Maybe, this is just a supposition, it was better if his source was free. Probably he knew he would be released soon, so after a few years he would still have him in the field to keep doing this crap."

“That makes sense, but… You really think they are into it?”

“Yes, that’s the only reason he would be in touch with him and so secretly,” Keiki nodded, “This is good information, Keiks. Maybe we can get something out of this.”

“You think so?”

“Yes,” he reassured, giving her a weak smile, “I don’t like to threaten people, but at this point, they’re giving me no option.”

After a long call to his lawyer, Bryce was convinced that his hunch about Jennings could be really helpful if he wanted to get that Agreement, so he called Rebecca to set a meeting that afternoon.

It was minutes before 7 PM when Bryce, Keiki, and Eleanor stood in front of a hotel suite in Boston Harbor, waiting for Rebecca to open the door.

At first, Eleanor wasn't sure she should be there, but both Keiki and Bryce asked her to go with them for moral support and because she'd witnessed both exchanges with Rebecca, and they didn't want to risk any chance to get involved in misunderstandings with the older woman's manipulations.

After a few seconds, Rebecca opened the door.

Bryce froze in place. More than ten years had passed since the last time he saw her. Ten years of holding grudges, anger, guilt, all because of her and his father. There was no easy way to face this.

Once he was able to regain composure, he looked up and down at his mother, from head to toes, taking in the visible passing of time. She was the same stunning woman he remembered, she even was using the same elegant perfume she used back then, and probably was slimmer than before, but she had aged. No matter the serums and surgeries, no matter the money, the passing of time was there, hidden behind that conceal and foundation. Behind that expensive and loyal red lipstick. Behind the fake image of a perfect wife and perfect mother.

Rebecca did the same. She looked at him silently, giving an admired look at the features on his face, and the particular hairstyle that probably was completely the opposite of what he used to wear in high school, long and rebellious. "Hello, Bryce. You're just as handsome as when I met your father thirty years ago, son," she said, stroking his cheek with a melancholic glint in her eyes.

A cold glare settled in Bryce’s face, clearly annoyed with the comparison, “Hello mother, it’s been a while.”

“Not by my decision, of course,” she remarked, dryly. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here, Eleanor, are you coming as attestor again?” she added, as she noticed her presence behind Keiki.

“Good evening, Ms. Lahela” Eleanor replied, ignoring the provocation, while the three entered the elegant light blue living room and sat on a cream couch at the center of the room.

Rebecca took a seat on a black leather sofa beside Bryce and gave him a smug smirk, "So? Are you going to leave that nonsense of yours in the past and send Keiki with me?"

Bryce didn’t hesitate a second before staring at her, serious and determined, “I’m gonna be clever and demand you to agree to what I’m asking you.”

“Why would I do that?”

"Because you're hurting your daughter. You're irresponsible and the only thing you care about is money, and status and keep helping dad with his bullshit."

Rebecca gave him a tense smile, and then arched a brow “What are you talking about, Bryce? Why would your dad keep doing what led him to jail? That’s absurd.”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not here to play games, Bryce, so let’s finish this straight away: I’m gonna take Keiki with me, like it or not.”

“To what? To keep pretending you’re the perfect mother? Can I ask why now? Why now that I called you, two months after she ran away, you suddenly care about her? I truly can’t understand it.”

“We were just waiting for her to get bored, so she doesn’t become more rebellious.”

Bryce and Keiki snorted at the same time, but this time Keiki spoke, “Oh, always taking the easy path instead of educating, yeah, very understandable.”

"Keiki, Bryce is working all day, you'd be alone all day, and above all that" Rebecca directed her eyes to Eleanor, "he has a girlfriend, and as doctors, I'm sure both of you want to make the best of the short time you have, there's no room for Keiki here."

Rebecca had done her homework during the afternoon.

Eleanor looked attentively as Bryce took a deep, deep breath before speaking. She was getting under his skin quicker than she thought.

“Don’t talk about my life as if you knew, you have no idea, mother. And you have no idea about giving quality time to your loved ones, you never did it with me and clearly you’re not doing it with Keiki.”

Rebecca opened her eyes, shocked, “What are you talking about, I always tried to give you the best.”

“The best schools, the best clothes, all the damn material things, but you never took the time to educate us, to raise is, to love us.”

“Oh, Lord, here we go again with your drama. You really haven’t changed a thing, have you?”

“Oh? So you’ve been a good mother who has always been there for your kids, right? So, tell me, How many times did you go to Keiki’s room to see how she was feeling with her stomach pain? Or if you stayed the night with her in the hospital when she had surgery?”

Rebecca snorted, not a bit affected by his implications, “You’re unbelievable, the most hypocrite person I’ve ever met,” she snapped. “You haven’t set a foot in Maui for ten years, you only reach out for holidays and birthdays, and you’re talking to me about being present, about caring about Keiki? You were the one who didn’t give a damn about her, and now because she’s been two months with you, suddenly you’re morally superior to me?”

Her words took Bryce and Keiki aback, making them freeze in place for a moment. “Are you really sure this is what you want? Put your career on hold, stop taking more surgeries, more shifts to succeed, because there’s a kid you have to care about, to give less time to your girlfriend? Or are you just going to split the time and gave that responsibility to her too? Because that’s why she’s here too, right? Because you’re incapable of taking the responsibility on your own.”

Bryce stuttered. It really hurt him. Even if she was just pushing his buttons, it was hard to hear the ugly truth, even if there were parts that weren't accurate. He thought he was ready to face her, but after ten years she still had the ability to break him, to make his mind a mess, to distort everything for her own benefit.

"Two months is nothing, nothing if she's not going to school," she continued, taking advantage of his silence, "you'll have to make time to help her study, go to her performances, meetings with the principal if she's a troublema—"

“Shut up,” Bryce barked suddenly, his teeth gritting. His patience was dropping with every word he had to hear from her mouth.

Rebecca looked at him surprised, “Excuse me?”

“Shut up, mother,” he insisted, “You’re talking about raising Keiki like it was a burden, like she was a burden. It may be a burden to you, but it’s not a burden to me. She will never be.”

“I’m not-”

"And don't talk to me like you know what it takes," he continued, ignoring her words, "as if you've done all those things with me when I was at school. You only cared about the public side of all, concerts, expositions, games… You were there just because there were photos, but you never sat beside me to ask for my homework, or grades, or to ask what I liked, how good I was at surfing. You only cared when you wanted me to become a lawyer, but nothing more than that. So don't talk to me like you know how to be a caring mother because you don't know!"

“That’s what you want to believe,” She said, giving her the most cynical smile he had seen in his life, “that’s what you want to remember, what better suits you.”

“If that attitude is what lets you sleep at night, go for it, mother, but you won’t make me feel guilty again.”

“And you’re not going to convince me about this stupid idea.”

“You really don’t care about what your daughter needs, uh? What only matters to you is winning, no matter the cost, no matter how hurt your daughter gets.”

“I know what she needs, she needs someone who takes care of her.”

Bryce couldn’t hold it anymore. There was just too much hypocrisy, too much manipulation, too much malice and he was reaching his limit. “And when the hell did you take care of her if she almost died because you ignored a stomach pain for a fucking week?!” he shouted, standing up from the couch, all remnants of patience gone by now. “A fucking week, not two days when you can think is stomach flu, a fucking week, so don’t talk about giving a damn about your daughter!”

“That was a mistake and I said I was sorry.”

“Stop lying! Stop pretending! You’re not sorry, you never really cared about what happened, the only thing that mattered to you was the stupid meetings with Jennings!”

Rebecca paled at the mention of him.

Got you.

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“Deny it, deny that Stuart Jennings has been in your house doing bullshit with my father.”

The silence was deafening for a couple of seconds. Rebecca's mind was working miles per minute trying to explain that situation, trying to get out of the dead-end Bryce had put her in. But that's what it was, a dead end. Bryce had her cornered. There was no escape from this.

“That’s what I thought,” Bryce said, smugly.

“It does not mean anything...”

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure the attorney back in Hawaii will find it totally normal that Stuart Jennings is spending evenings in the Lahela house after dad went out of jail when it was supposed that they don't meet each other, right?"

“Where did you get that? Keiki told you that?”

“What if she did?”

“She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!” Keiki yelled, scowling at her.

“If she’s lying, why would Keiki be able to describe him if he’d never set a foot there? If when they were investigating dad she was five years old? Very curious, uh?”

“Where are you going with this?”

"Where I'm going with this, mother, is that if you don't sign the legal guardianship agreement I'm proposing, not only I'll sue you for child neglect, I'll inform the attorney that Stuart is dad's accomplice and that he keeps doing his bullshit, so he'll have to go to jail again."

Rebecca’s reaction was a divine gift. Bryce never thought he would be lucky enough to leave her mother like she was at that moment. Panicking, cornered, defeated.

"You wouldn't. He's... He's your father, Bryce."

And stuttering.

Bryce chuckled, amused with her desperate appeal to mercy based on blood ties, “You and he gave me and Keiki life, but you’re nothing more than that. And if I use the words, it’s just me trying to be polite, but I don’t actually feel it. Mom, dad? They’re just empty words.”

“Bryce, how can you say that? How can you be so cruel to send your own father to jail?”

"How can you be so cruel to ignore your daughter's well-being your whole life, ignore her to the point of almost letting her die because of your neglect, to the point of not giving a fuck about her when she ran away? That's what I can't fucking understand, woman! So don't come at me begging to behave like a son, when he has been anything but a father to me and Keiki, the same as you."

Bryce was out of line, letting all his anger go, but as the words went out of him, he was feeling lighter and lighter, and more and more hopeful. Eleanor and Keiki had never seen him like that, but both knew he was doing what he should’ve done years ago, that he was doing this for his and Keiki’s sake. That the hell he was giving Rebecca was minimum compared to what she and his father deserved.

Rebecca, instead, was shocked and kind of frightened of his reaction. She never expected he would react that way and that he would handle the situation so smoothly. She never considered that maybe, she would return home with empty hands.

"I mean it, mother. If you don't sign the agreement, I'll tell the attorney, and I'm willing to tell everything and do anything to destroy you at court and take Keiki with me. Dad is going to go to jail again and your stupid reputation is going to hell. Probably you're going to jail too."

“Bryce…Don’t threaten us, you have no chance…” It was her last trying before admitting defeat, but she had already lost.

“Don’t I? With what you did to Keiki? With the fact that you didn’t come after her? She’s fifteen, the court will take her opinion into consideration. Come on, this is just your pride, you cannot accept that Keiki prefers me, who was out of her life for ten years, over you.”

Rebecca stared at him and Keiki for a long time. Keiki was sitting on the couch, facing her, determination in her eyes. Nothing she had said had changed her mind.

“I’m going to talk to you father,” she said, and went to the next room.

In the meantime, Bryce sat back in his seat and looked at Eleanor with subtle hope. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but he was sure their parents would agree. Keiki, on the other hand, didn't want to have her hopes high, so she just waited in silence, with her shoulders slumped and her hands fidgeting, the anxiety slowly consuming her.

After about thirty minutes later, Rebecca came back to the room with an unreadable expression on her face and stared silently at Bryce and Keiki for a moment before speaking. “Alright. Your father and I have agreed to let you stay here, Keiki.”

The girl released a long and deep breath, a breath that probably had been holding since she had entered the suite.

"And I spoke with our lawyer and he'll start with the legal guardianship process Bryce, including child support. No judge would approve something like that without providing for education, food, and housing, much less considering our situation. I'll let you know when all is settled so you can travel to Maui to sign the papers."

“My intention wasn’t getting any money from yo-” Bryce started, but soon was interrupted.

“That’s okay, Bryce,” Keiki said, making Bryce look at her, surprised, “it isn’t fair that you have to cover everything when our parents are loaded, it’s the least they can do for not being able to raise their child properly.”

“Watch out your tongue, Keiki. I’m still your mother.”

“How about no?” Keiki defied, getting up from the couch. “Anyway, I’m done with this, can we go?”

Bryce stared at Rebecca, wondering if she wanted to add something else. She simply shook her head, so both Keiki and Eleanor abandoned the room after giving Rebecca a nod as a goodbye.

“You better keep your word and this isn’t a scheme of yours,” Bryce warned, standing up at the same time as her, “And I mean it mother, one wrong move and I swear I’ll go to the police. Am I clear?”

Rebecca nodded, "Yes. In three weeks maximum, we should be able to ask for the judge's approval."

"Well, until then, mother," he said before going out of the suite and joining Eleanor and Keiki in the hallway.

When he reached Keiki, he gave him the most luminous smile he had given her, charged with pride and victory, “We made it, Keiks.”

Even if he feared the worst when he received that call and Eleanor told him what had happened, even when he thought what Rebecca had said would convince Keiki to go with her; against all odds, he made it, both made it. Keiki would stay with him.

He knew things wouldn’t be easy, that both would have to struggle a lot to make it work, but Bryce was determined to make up for his mistakes and give her everything their parents failed to give Keiki.

“We really did it,” she said, lifting her hand to high-five him, “Thank you, bro.”

“Wanna eat something special to celebrate?” He asked, embracing her tightly.

"Mmm, maybe sushi."

“Let’s get that sushi, then, come on.”

As Keiki started walking towards the elevator, Bryce looked down at Eleanor, eyes sparkling with the smile she was giving him, “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Amazing. I can’t believe what just happened. And that I finally… Could tell her all that I had inside.”

“I’m so, so proud of you, my love,” She whispered, caressing his cheek with her knuckles, “and I admire you so much.”

“Well, this wouldn’t have been that easy if it wasn’t for your support.”

“I appreciate the acknowledgment, but this is all you.”

“I disagree, but I’m done with discussions for the day.”

Eleanor giggled, “Fair enough.”

As the elevator reached their floor, the three of them got in, ready to celebrate the first family victory of the Lahela siblings.

The following days were unexpectedly weird and disconcerting. Keiki started avoiding Eleanor without motive.

She wasn't interested in talking or watching movies together, and when they had lunch, there was this uncomfortable and painful silence between them, a silence that had never been between them, not even the first day.

Eleanor didn’t know why. She tried to think about anything she could’ve said, if she overstepped with something, but there was nothing. She thought maybe it was just the natural aftermaths of such a traumatic experience as what had happened with Rebecca a few days ago. A recharging after a very emotional day.

Bryce had noticed too, but as he hated conflict more than anyone in the world, he just preferred to ask Eleanor instead of Keiki, and as she didn’t know, days kept passing by without knowing what was happening with her.

But then, after three excruciating days in which she convinced herself that things wouldn’t get better, Eleanor finally found the strength to ask Keiki, just as she finished putting the dishes in the cabinet after lunch. “Keiki, is there something wrong?”

“Why you ask?” She replied without looking up at her, eyes fixated on her cellphone.

“You’ve been very quiet these few days, you don’t want to talk or do anything together, and I’m wondering if something’s bothering you? Or maybe I did something wrong?”

Keiki looked up at her, serious, but didn’t say anything. Then she shook her head and murmured, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s leave it there.”

“Keiki, I want to help you, but I can’t do it if you don't tell me what’s wrong.”

Keiki scoffed, really annoyed with her insistence, “That’s exactly the problem, Eleanor. Why of all people is you who’s offering help.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t understand why, having already a family, a father, a mother, a brother, is you, someone who was a total stranger to me two months ago, the one who cares about me the most.”

“Keiki, what are you saying? Bryce cares about you more than anyone.”

“Oh, but I haven’t seen him asking what’s wrong with me, even if he knows perfectly well there’s something wrong.”

“You have to understand this is difficult for him...”

"Oh, as if this has been really easy for me! All I have been is being understanding, comprehensive, patient. Ten years waiting for him to visit me, ten years waiting for more than a fucking birthday call! And now I've been waiting two fucking months for him to show me some interest, but there's always something first, if it's not work, it's you, or your accident. Anything, but me!"

Eleanor couldn't say anything. Part of what she was saying was true, and part of the reason that this has turned this bad, was her fault, so she couldn't contradict her. Besides, she had the feeling that all this anger was motivated by what her mother had told her the other day. Rebecca's poison was working on her.

“I’m sorry Eleanor,” she added, after a few seconds, her voice shaking, “I know this is not your fault… that I shouldn't take it on you but it’s just... sometimes I can’t help but feel anger towards you because…” she sighed, ashamed, “because I see you and you have everything I’ve always wanted.”

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat with guilt.

“You have a family that loves you, a brother that missed school just to be with you, parents that flew thousands of miles to see you. You have a mother who does your hair and never abandoned you while you were at the hospital, and… and I want to hate you but I can’t! Because you’ve been nothing but nice to me, and sometimes I feel like you’re the person that cares about me the most.”

“Keiki… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

Keiki shook her head, stopping her mid-sentence, "This is not your fault, but I needed to let you know why I've been so… cold with you. I just can't stop thinking about it sometimes. Like, I feel envy, and I know it's wrong, but I just prefer to deal with it on my own."

Eleanor nodded, “I understand. It’s okay, Keiki, thank you for telling me.”

“I still like your parents, it’s just that this is too much for me sometimes.”

“Keiki…” She muttered a few minutes later, after pondering carefully her words. She told herself she wouldn't intervene, but she felt like she needed to do something anyway, to give Bryce a little push even if she was realizing it was time for him to fight his own battles. “I… I know that this is something that you have to talk about with Bryce but… But you have to know that Bryce cares about you, that you are his priority. Bryce has changed a lot of things in his life in order to spend time with you, to give you the time you deserve. You knew since the first moment that it would be complicated. The life of a doctor is hard, and even like that, he’s been giving you all his time. Please, don’t believe for a second what your mother told you. She has no idea.”

Keiki shook her head, a tear streaming down her face, “But she’s right, Elle. Sometimes I can’t help but feel like you care more about me than he does, because you always take the time to listen to me, and all Bryce does is trying to avoid conflict, just like my parents. Why can't Bryce be like you?”

Eleanor bit her lip. Keiki was overreacting, she was sure Bryce had taken the time to listen to her, but at that moment, the only thing that the teenager could think, is that her brother wasn’t giving her the attention she needed, the fifteen years of attention she needed, and Eleanor couldn’t argue with that.

“Keiks, not everyone has this… easiness with people’s emotions, as you’re suggesting I have. Bryce is not one of those people, he struggles a lot with his own, so it’s not that he doesn’t care about you, it’s just that this is really difficult for him to talk about it. Some topics still trigger a lot of things in him and he’s not ready to face them with you in front.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But I also understand where you’re going with this, that maybe he’s not trying hard enough in opening up to you, and I have to say that’s partly my fault.

“Your fault? Why?”

“Because I’ve meddled in your relationship with him trying to help you two, but that has only let him evade the responsibility he has with you. Don’t get me wrong, I like that you can count on me, but now you’ve made me see that Bryce should be able to talk to you about everything, especially now that you’re going to live officially with him.”

At that moment, Eleanor realized that situation would keep occurring as long as she was in the middle, always ready to save Bryce from a disastrous talk, or always providing advice about how to deal with him, almost depriving him of making mistakes, and that couldn't happen anymore.

She had to get out of the way.

"The good thing is there's one quick way to fix this. Well, not exactly fix it, but to push him to do better," She said after a few minutes considering her decision.

“Which is?”

“I’m going back home.”

"What, Eleanor, no! There's no need!" Her answer didn't have that usual determination that characterized her voice, it was weak and almost hesitant.

Eleanor shook her head, chuckling, “That’s okay, no need to pretend with me. I’m sure you’ll be alright by yourself, right? Considering that you’ll start school in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I think so, but what about you?”

"I'll be alright," She said, nonchalant, "I'm doing this for me too. I've stayed more than I planned here, besides, it's about damn time I start taking care of my own life, don't you think?"

After a couple of hours collecting her things and messaging her friends and Bryce that she would go back home, she said goodbye to Keiki, more determined than ever that this was the best decision. Not only for Keiki but for her too.

“Eleanor I… You don’t have to…”

“Keiki, you have every right to be upset, or mad, or just uncomfortable with me being here, so please don’t feel bad. We’re okay. And I really hope that this is the push your brother needs to react. I understand what you’re struggling with, okay?”

“Thank you, Ella.”

“Of course. I care about you Keiki. A lot. But not as much as you brother,” She winked at her, and Keiki couldn’t help but smile.

“Please let me know when you’re at home.”

“Sure.”

When Eleanor got home, the adrenaline of what had happened that day slowly started to drop, until all that was left was her reality. Her naked and rough reality, without other people's problems, without a teenager who was pushing her to be better, without a boyfriend who could comfort her when everything was wrong.

No.

Now she was all by herself.

Just herself and her demons, the million demons that she'd been avoiding for days, weeks, months, even years, and that she'd swept under the carpet.

And it was huge.

The guilt after what happened at the hospital hadn’t receded, she’d just pushed it to the back, but was still there.

Bobby was dead. The family was still mourning his loss.

Raf and Danny were still at the hospital, and despite the fact that they were getting better, it would take them months to be back in their normal states.

And she? She was fine. She was alive, in good health, she was able to walk to anywhere she wanted, she could do whatever she wanted with her life, but instead of doing something good, she was just screwing the lives she had around.

She had been trying so hard to focus on Keiki but in the end, she only ended up ruining her. Her presence at Bryce's apartment had cracked her relationship with Keiki, and also Keiki's with Bryce.

Was there anything good she could do at this point or she'll just spend her entire life failing by default?

The following hours happened in an almost familiar blur trying to ignore the fact that she was alone and that the reason she was back at her room was because she was a complete failure that couldn't even help a fifteen-year-old girl.

She wasn’t really paying attention when her friends arrived and greeted her. She didn’t even know how she managed to talk about the past days and ask them how they were doing, how Kyra, Rafael, and Danny were, but she did. Somehow, the words came out of her mouth, somehow she understood the information her ears received.

And then, suddenly, Bryce was in front of her, talking, both sitting on her bed.

When he had arrived? Did she kiss him? What was he saying?

“Elle, babe?”

“Uh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I just wanna know why you didn’t tell me you were planning to come back.”

"Oh, that. Actually, it's not that I had it planned, I made the decision today after I spoke with Keiki."

“What Keiki has to do with this?”

“She…” No, she had to stop doing that. “I… I think it’s better if you ask her yourself.”

“But you know what was happening with her?”

“Yes, and after she told me, I thought the best I could do was get out of there and just try to do something with my life.”

“You had a fight with my sister, my teenage sister, and you just left?”

His voice was teasing but also kind of... recriminatory. What the fuck? Anger started to itch in her guts.

“Oh my god, you cannot be serious.”

“What?”

“I did what you should’ve done to help you, and you’re judging me?”

“No, I’m not saying that!”

"Well, it looks like. I did what you've been avoiding all this time and now I decided that I'm done with this situation, that's all."

“What are you talking about?”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, slowly losing it, “Bryce, you’ve spent the last three days asking me what was happening with Keiki because you're incapable of facing conflict, and I'm simply done with that, I can't do it anymore. I realized that me meddling between you two was doing more harm than good."

“Do me harm? How can you say that? You’ve helped us a lot!”

“Well, ask your sister and she’ll tell you the contrary. She wasn’t comfortable with my presence there because you’re not giving her the attention she deserves, and I honestly believe she’s right.”

“Elle, come on, she’s just overreacting, I don’t give her attention, ha! I give her all my attention.”

“You know that’s not true. And it’s not the only problem. You’re always relying on me when things are wrong with Keiki and that’s not fair.”

“Oh, I see. My mother’s words did their work on you too.”

“What? No! It’s just….”

“Just what?"

Eleanor released a sigh, her hands started trembling, her core blazing with anger. She couldn’t hold it anymore. This was not only about what had happened with Keiki. It was so, so much more than that. "I can’t take it anymore, Bryce I… just can't. I CAN’T!”

Bryce stared at her with eyes widened, surprised by her sudden outburst.

“Shit, I’m sorry… It’s just… I’m tired, Bryce. Of this situation with Keiki, the stupid accident, the mess I have in my head… I…”

“Babe…” He whispered, enveloping her in his arms before she broke in sobs.

"I'm doing everything wrong, Bryce. I...I wanted to help Keiki but I screwed it up instead. I wanted to save Senator Farrugia and instead, I killed an innocent man and two innocent lives were affected… I … Shit, I can't…"

“Oh, god, babe. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, “I’m the one who’s sorry, I promised you I’d be with you but I just can’t.”

“No, babe. This is my fault, I shouldn't have let this happen, not when you’re going through something so difficult, I’m sorry.”

They stayed in silence for a while, Eleanor letting the warm embrace soothe her like so many times before, but there was still so much anger bottled up. With herself, of course, but she was trying not to take it on Bryce.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll face this together,”

“No,” she said, pulling away from him.

“What do you mean no?”

"Bryce, don't you understand? You have to focus on Keiki, not on me, for god's sake!"

“But…”

“I need to do this on my own,” snapped, categorically.

Suddenly, Eleanor realized that coming back to her apartment wouldn’t be enough to set boundaries between her and Bryce, and to have the needed space to work on her issues, on the mess she had as life.

She had to get completely out of the way. Out of the city. Out of the state.

“I think I… I’m going to Cincinnati,” she announced a moment later.

“What?

“I need some time and space to think, Bryce, I need to set some boundaries and I can’t have them if you’re close.”

“Boundaries? Why would you need to set boundaries with me?”

“I just need time to think, okay? Everything has happened so fast these past weeks, that we haven’t even had the chance to talk about us, about what happened with Ethan, about what’s next for us. Things have been just happening, things have been changing, and now I feel like I’m not ready for that.”

Eleanor could swear that Bryce paled at those words. God, there she was again, screwing it all up, but she needed to be honest with him.

“What do you mean you’re not ready?”

“I’m not ready to give that kind of compromise right now, Bryce. Our relationship at first was… casual or… I don’t know, without projecting too much, because nothing was settled between us, and now that we’re committed, there’s a lot of decisions to make, a lot of things to give to the relationship, and I really, really want to do it, I wanna make plans with you, but I can’t do it, Bryce. I’m not okay, so I’m not in a position to give anything in our relationship, and that’s not fair to you.”

And now his eyes were glimmering with tears and widened in a mix of desperation and pain, “Are you breaking up with me?” he said in a breaking voice.

She hated herself for giving him that impression with her own words.

“What? No! Of course not!” She reassured instantly, “I’m just being completely honest about how I feel. Just take it as I told you, I’m not in a position to give anything at this moment so I’m just taking a time away to regain some stability and solve my issues, so I can come back to you… not healed, but at least ready and stable to give everything our relationship deserves.”

Bryce didn’t look so convinced.

“Love, you deserve the best, only the best, and at this moment I can’t give you anything. The only thing I have is problems and I don’t wanna give you that burden when you already have so much on your plate with Keiki. I’m doing this for me, but also for you, for us. I don’t wanna ruin what we have.”

After her words settled in him, he breathed deeply, “Okay.”

“Do you understand now why I’m doing this?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I’m sorry for reacting that way.”

Eleanor shook her head, furrowing her lips, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position,” she said, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “And please, never, ever doubt about my feelings for you, okay? I would never give up so easily on us. You never did and neither I will.”

Bryce simply nodded, unable to say another word.

It was hard for him to accept it, but only with time he would realize she wasn't lying.

____

A/N: Hello! I know I promised no more +6k chapters, buuuuut... it just happend, there were a lot of things to discuss in this chapter, besides were getting closer to the end 🥺 Thank you so much for reading and giving me your support in all this journey! I big hug to each and every one of you, I hope you're doing well!!

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #oh choices #oh fanfic #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

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holdwiththosewhofavorfire · 4 years

Text

Braids

For: @maplelattes22, who asked for “JJ x Kie, request where he tries to braid her hair/do a hairstyle but is having a hard time”

Notes: Turned out to be a little softer than comedic. I’m always taking requests!

Summary: Kie is sick the first week of summer and JJ knows exactly how to make her feel better.

The first week of summer, official summer with no school and endless days for surfing and boating and drinking around bonfires, and Kiara has a cold. So today at least she is basically bedridden, sinuses too stuffed to put her head in the water, eyes too sensitive to go outside in the bright sun. She’s moping around her bedroom, propped up on pillows and aimlessly leafing through one magazine or another, when her window slides up and in tumbles JJ, a thoroughly unappreciated knight in damp boardshorts.

Kie barely registers the devil may grin he always has on his stupid gorgeous face before she’s pulling her bedcovers up and over her head. JJ, like all the Pogues, has seen her scraped up after a long day surfing, expelling water and snot out of her nose, hair tangled and definitely not at her most composed, but being sick is something entirely different. She knows she isn’t that pretty at the best of times, but she will not allow JJ to see her with her nose as red as a reindeers and feeling like cotton balls have been shoved up her sinuses.

JJ laughs at her reaction, and that does not help her mood. “Aw, Kie, don’t be like that. I’m here to help you feel better.”

She stubbornly keeps the comforter over her head even as she hears his footsteps come closer. “Go away, JJ. I’m sick. Go bother the other guys.”

“John B. picked up a shift at the Club. They didn’t need me today. Pope is studying for some test with letter--“

“the PSAT?” She interjects, and he continues, “—yeah that one—and I saw them all day every day at school, when I went to school anyway, so I figure now is the perfect day for some JJ and Kie quality time. Turn on that fancy TV of yours.”

Letting out a huff of air, she peeks one eye out of the comforter. “I really don’t feel like company right now. I’m sick, I’m gross, and I just want…”

Kiara trails off when JJ puts his hand on her head. “You’re not gross. I’ll leave if you don’t want me around, but…you’re never gross.” He looks awkward all the sudden, uncomfortable with what he just said and a little defensive like if she makes him leave, he’ll take it the wrong way. And at worst, JJ is always entertaining. If he wants to hangout and watch her blow snot rockets into a tissue, then who is she to deny him his entertainment.

“The remote is on the dresser.”

“Yes!” He cheers, bounding over to grab it, then effortlessly flinging himself on the other side of her mattress. “What daytime soap is on now? The Bold and the Beautiful? The Young and the Restless?”

Either is an apt description for JJ, she thinks. It’s actually pretty nice to feel his solid body next to hers, and maybe she does feel a little better after all. She twists her head to look over and up at him.

“Aw there she is.” JJ grins down at her, back against her headboard, looking at ease and her heart flutters. “Come on out, princess.”

Kiara slowly, more for show than anything else, lowers her blanket down. She sits upright for a moment, then scoots back toward the headboard too, intending to lean against it as JJ is. Instead, he, looking deliberately at the tv, lifts his right arm to the side, a clear invitation if she’s ever seen one. Hesitantly, she settles into place, tucked under his shoulder. She can smell him here, salt and sun and boy, and her stomach is fluttering a little.

They watch the show quietly for a bit. Kie acknowledges she isn’t really paying attention, more focused on the smooth, warm skin covered muscle under her cheek, and the slight pull from where he’s playing with the ends of her hair.

It doesn’t take long for JJ to get twitchy from just sitting there. She can feel his eyes drift down toward the top of her head, and the light stroking of her hair becomes more deliberate and thoughtful.

“My mom taught be how to braid hair, you know.”

She shook her head, turned her neck to catch his bright blue eyes with hers. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” He says, voice tight, like he’s forcing it to be casual. “I’d braid her hair after…when she was feeling sad. She used to say it made her feel better.”

Kie shrugs a little, heart aching for him and trying not to push because she knows that’s a surefire way to get him to retreat like the ocean at low tide. “I’d probably feel better if you braided my hair too.”

“Yeah? Ok!” He’s eager suddenly, a little puppy like, and he’s poking at her until she leans up and moves forward so he can scoot behind her. The TV plays on in the foreground, but she can picture how JJ’s eyes are squinted in concentration as he gathers her heavy mass of hair into his hands. Thank goodness she’d washed her hair just that morning.

It’s surprisingly painless. For some reason, she’d expected his calloused fingers to be rougher, to catch on the curls of her hair. Instead, JJ makes an effort to be gentle, combing lightly through any tangles and carefully navigating the strands. The warm summer sun shines through the window, the TV volume is a low murmur, and he hums to himself as he focuses on the pattern. It feels like he’s doing multiple smaller braids, which makes sense for her hair type. Kie thinks maybe this is what contentment feels like and she likes it.

She’s drifting in and out of awareness, always conscious of the warmth of him behind her and his hands occasionally lightly brushing her neck, but she didn’t really realize how much time passed until he announced triumphantly, “Done!”

JJ hopped off the bed, and tugged on her wrist until she followed him into the floor and over to her mirror. “Tada!” He says, gesturing broadly.

The braids are actually pretty tight—both in that they look good and are structurally sound. He braided four thick braids, and she ran her fingers over them before turning to face him.

“I’m impressed, JJ.” She tells him, smiling up into his face. “You did a really good job.”

“And you feel better?” He prods. “You’ll come out with us tomorrow?”

Kie laughs a little. “Yeah, I feel better. I’ll see you at the Cut tomorrow morning.”

Their eyes catch, and she’s still smiling but doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. She doesn’t recognize the small half twist in his mouth. It’s not his usual recklessly wide grin, or his got-away-with-something smirk. There’s a fondness to it coupled with an unusual softness in his eyes that is utterly new. For a moment, she thinks this is the moment when he kisses her or she kisses him and all the feelings she’s been so careful to never acknowledge come out and all the rules she’s been so careful to obey become irrelevant.

Neither lean forward. In the golden light of the early evening, JJ reaches up to trace the braid closest to her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kie.”

Then he’s back out her window and running off into the sunset. She stays by her window for a minute, watching him go. The braids will need to be undone eventually—not even she is willing to wear them out in public like that. But they can stay exactly as they are for now.

#outer banks #fanfiction #text post #jj x kie #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara #obx #outer banks netflix #jj x kiara

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btsareyandere · 5 years

Note

I hope I'm still on time~~ Name: Rubí (latina lmao), brown hair and brown eyes. And I would love whatever you want to write about 💖💖📝📝🎊🎊🎊

A hard lesson - Rubí

Yandere namjoon

Warnings- ambiguous consent. Abuse, yandere themes throughout.

(I really hope this is okay)

Namjoon holds your wrists tightly, keeping them pinned to the mattress next to your head as his hips furiously piston in and out of you.

"Look at me when I'm claiming you rubí." He grunts, spit landing on your cheek as he pants from exertion.

You keep your eyes tightly closed, trying with all your might to put yourself elsewhere, somewhere where his tricks and mind games can't confuse you anymore.

You knew when you met him, that namjoon is an incredibly smart man, a man capable of twisting your every word even the unsaid ones and turning them against you.

Confusion and self-doubt cripples you on a daily basis and hiding within the recesses of your mind has become one of your tricks, one he has yet to break.

When you fail to follow his instructions, namjoon slams into your pussy with such force that your skull collides with he headboard behind you.

Your eyes snap open and struggle to focus on his face, a face that displays nothing but innocence and bewilderment.

"Oh baby, did you hit your head? Come, let me see if you've done any damage" he releases your hands to inspect your head and you take it as an opportunity to flex them and encourage the circulation to resume its steady flow.

"Namjoon. joonie" you pacify.

He looks down at you and smiles,

"Rubí?"

You push against his chest and surprisingly, he let's you.

"Namjoon I don't want to, its hurting me" fear trickles from your pours and floats like a cloud into the waiting nostrils of your boyfriend who happily inhales it into the deepest parts of his lungs, it's ecstasy to him.

"That's because you're not relaxing." He states.

You lick your lips and shuffle away from him just enough that his dick slips out and springs to his abdomen.

Namjoon grips your thigh with punishing force but only to stop you leaving entirely.

You place a hand on top of his and hurry to continue.

"I can't relax, you've been hitting me all day!"

And he has, since the driver brought you home from your weekly trip to the mall that namjoon allows if you've been good, he has been attempting to show you how making your own decisions comes with consequences. His method of teaching lately has been in the form of belts that sting your skin and punches that bruise you right down to the bone.

Namjoon hisses and digs his nails into the soft flesh of your leg

"And if you're not careful, I'll continue. This is all on you baby, you did something wrong. I know even you can understand the difference between right and wrong. Can't you?"

You nod your head and agree, a reflex really, you're not actually saying you agree with his statement.

"I understand it, but it's my hair joonie. Why can't I do what I want with it?"

He doesn't bother answering you this time, only moves to strike you across the face, knocking your weakened body to the side.

You choke on a few unreleased sobs and bury your face into the mattress.

"Why do you keep pushing me? I've explained it at least ten time today." He sighs as he rubs his temples.

"I'm not saying I don't like the new hairstyle, of course I do, holding that long black ponytail when I destroy you from behind is possibly my favourite thing to do. But why you thought you could change it without asking me, is beyond belief"

When you turn your face to the side to take a breath, namjoon notices the blood spilling from your lips and the stain it has made on the crisp white sheets.

"Now look what you've done!" He shouts.

Fear hits you like a lightening bolt as you search for your newest blunder.

"I d-dont understand. I haven't done anything".

Namjoon looks to the ceiling, completely exasperated.

"Do you not even know how to use your eyes without direction? Look at the spot where your face was just lying, there's a red stain. That's your blood...understand?"

Once again your little head is nodding up and down in response to his prompt.

"I'm sorry" you whisper.

"But its not that bad. Not too much, it'll come out....wont it?"

Namjoon chuckles and flips you back onto your stomach, sitting on your lower back to keep you down, his hands snaking round to hold your head and cheeks.

He squeezes at your lips to force the flow of blood to increase and ruin the bedding even more.

"Blood doesn't just come out because you want it to. It stains, rubí; it leaves a mark which lowers the quality of the sheet and unless someone is willing to put in a lot of effort to fix it, it'll need throwing away"

He hums to himself as he maintains his hold, satisfied by the muffled whimpers of pain that rumble in your chest.

"I guess that's like us. You're low quality and something others would turn away from, perhaps even discard. But I'm here, selflessly willing to fix you. Sometimes though, things need destroying in order to restore them. The sheet will need harsh chemical bleaching, you need a firm hand and a lot of guidance. I'll make sure I burn away all your imperfections, even the ones you didn't know you had".

A strangled cry finally breaks free and leaves your mouth,

"I cant!" You begin to scream.

"Let me go namjoon, please, please just let me leave. I don't want to be fixed"

The large male sits back on his heels and rests his bloddies hand on your back, dragging them slowly down your spine before skimming them back up towards your neck, coming to rest on the nape.

"Listen, you're my silly little girlie, you always have been which is why I'm so patient with you. But listen to yourself. What kind of person doesn't want fixing when they're broken? Does that make sense?"

His tone was even and calm, allowing you the chance to slightly relax beneath him.

You think over what he says, if something is broken, people generally do want to fix it so why wouldn't you want to be the best version of yourself? Maybe he's right.

Namjoon knows you well enough to recognise when you're deep in thought, he can practically hear the cogs turning in that tiny brain of yours and so he gives you the time you need to figure out that he is right.

"I-i" you stutter.

His hand is now soothingly caressing the back of your head,

"Go on baby girl, use your words and tell me what you want to say"

You wriggle slightly to find a more comfortable position but it doesn't prompt him to release you.

"I, I guess you're right. People do fix what is wrong, but I'm not broken namjoon. I do okay dont I?"

"Well not really, honey. Think about all the things I don't let you do because you've messed up so many times. The fires you caused in the kitchen; we've had three because you forget you're cooking something or get distracted".

At his words, you slam your hands onto the bed

"No! I know for a fact that I switched the oven off, I know I did"

Namjoon smiles behind you. You did infact switch it off, you are correct yet, he can't let you know that he turned it back on just to fuck with you.

"Well if that was the case, you wouldn't have almost burned down my multimillion pound mansion over a packet of cookies, would you?"

You rest your forehead on the pillow and think over all the mistakes you've made in life and how, since namjoon now controls every aspect of your life, those accidents occur a lot less frequently.

Begrudgingly, you whisper out a barely audible "you're right".

"I know. Now look at me" he says, forcing your head back further than is probably safe.

"You're going to thank me for protecting you from yourself, apologise for making me feel bad for beating the mistakes out of you and keep your mouth shut whilst I finish the job at hand"

He wraps his fist around the length of your sleek black hair and uses the other to spread your cheeks enough to access your pussy.

"Keep those doe eyes on me. You're going to take this and be grateful. Others might see a lost cause when they look at you, but baby, I see potential."

You blink back tears as your neck burns with the strained position he's got you in and the intrusion of his thick dick that's forcing it's way into a confined space between your tightly clenched thighs. A firm slap to your lower back pushes your tears over the threshold and let's them cascade down your cheeks

"Where are your manners?"

You clear your throat to the best of your ability and recite his precious words.

"Thank you for keeping me from hurting myself. I'm sorry you felt bad because of me when you were only helping me. Is..did I say it right?"

"Not exactly but it's close and so am I, so follow your next instruction and keep that mouth closed."

You do as told and clamp your mouth shut,

"Good girl. Now take what I give you and be grateful. I'll stop when enlightenment sparkles behind your eyes in the place of confusion."

The thing is though, namjoon will never stop messing with your mind long enough for clarity to take hold. You'll be his prisoner for life, shackled by his superior intelligence and bound by his physical presence. He's your teacher and all you can do is learn.

#bts #yandere bts #yandere #yandere reactions #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #bts drabble #bts yandere #bts scenarios #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bts namjoon

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checkmarch79-blog · 5 years

Text

Those Useless Trees — The Valley Oak

A couple of days ago my friend Mike and I decided to go for a hike in Malibu Creek State Park. Having celebrated a friend’s birthday the previous night into the following morning, a good moderately strenuous ramble seemed like just the thing. We were both awed by the park’s stunning vistas as well as its many magnificent valley oak trees, the largest oak species in North America and a species found only in California.

Inside the Malibu Creek State Park

The 3,324-hectare park, although opened to the public in 1976, of course, has a much older history. The first humans to arrive in the area where likely the Chumash, who established the village of Talepop (or Ta’lopop) within what’s now the park. About 3,500 years ago — thousands of years after the Chumash settled the area — the Tongva arrived from the east and the Malibu Creek, which drains the Santa Monica Mountains, became a sort of border between the two nations. Downstream the river flows into the Pacific Ocean at an estuary the Chumash referred to as “U-mali-wu,” meaning “it makes a loud noise there.” The Spanish, who arrived in the 16th century, recorded the name as Malibu.

Languedoc?

Although neither Mike nor I had ever been to the park before, we’d both seen it in many films and television series. The striking Goat Buttes, in particular, have served as a popular setting in Hollywood fictions. Before reading a sign informing us that the outcroppings were in the series, M*A*S*H, I was reminded by the chaparral-covered prominences of a childhood summer spent in Languedoc. After learning that the semi-arid oak landscape had been used to evoke green, temperate Korea for eleven seasons of the long-running Korean War comedy, I was struck by how unlike the scenery reminded me of any I’d seen in Korea, which I visited last summer. Of course, come to think of it, the cast of that show’s hairstyles seemed suspiciously ’70s for a war which took place from 1950-1953.

Coast live oaks on a hill

The valley in which we stood was carpeted with brittle, yellow grasses and scruffy oak trees. Most of the oaks in the oak savanna were coast live oak (Quercus agrifolia), also known as California live oak, those familiar oaks which during the rainy season fleetingly give the landscape of rolling hills on which they often grow the appearance of the Shire. Elsewhere in the park, there are stately sycamores and the southernmost grove of redwoods. There are, naturally, many varieties of native fungi and fauna as well, and during our visit, we observed a small herd of mule deer, various lizards, a covey of quail, a couple of rabbits, a California tarantula, a gracefully gliding heron, a red-tailed hawk, a flock of pigeons, and several other birds which I didn’t recognize.

Some of the oaks obviously unlike the others. They were taller, their silhouettes patchier, their branches droopier than the dome-like coast live oaks, the canopies of which spread out like gauzy green umbrellas over the gently rolling hills. As a child growing up in Missouri’s Little Dixie, I roamed the forests and knew my red cedars from my red maples, my black walnuts from my bladdernuts, my corkwoods from my dogwoods, my pawpaws from my possumhaws. I don’t remember learning most of their names and characteristics, though, and because of that, I hoped — however unrealistically — that I’d over time somehow simply absorb a similar knowledge Southern California’s trees. Having now lived in Southern California longer than anywhere else, I have unfortunately found that I have to make an effort to learn them.

I observed the oaks that were not coast live oaks. Whereas the leaves of the coast live oak are small, shiny, prickly, and look a bit like those of a holly shrub, the leaves of these oaks were lobed and looked almost leathery, faintly fuzzy. The leaves were clustered rather than spread across the branches’ tips. The bark was sort of silvery brown and almost uniformly wrinkled whereas the trunks and branches of the coast live oaks appear contorted and gnarled. It was clear that these were not coast live oaks — but I was no closer to identifying them than I had been when Mike had asked me what they were and so I turned to PlantSnap, an app which has, since downloading, successfully identified about 30% of the plants I’ve used it to recognize. It also identifies fungi — but with a track record like that, I wouldn’t use it for foraging unless I was completely OK with a painful death. This time the app proved successful, however, notifying me that the tree was most likely a Quercus agrifolia, or valley oak (it was) or, perhaps, a staghorn fern or loquat (it was obviously not). Valley oaks are also known as robles, as in Paso Robles.

I was struck by the appearance of the valley oaks acorns, which were considerably longer than those I was accustomed to. They provide food for, among other animals, acorn woodpeckers, California ground squirrels, California scrub jays, and yellow-billed magpies. Historically, they were also an important food source for the Chumash, who never developed agriculture as they were able to live comfortably off of what they foraged and hunted.

Mule deer eating valley oak leaves

The woody parts of the valley oak support California gall wasp, red cone gall wasp, and Chionodes petalumensis. As we approached a beckoning oak woodland, we stopped to watch a large family of mule deer, one of whose members spent a great deal of time standing on his hind legs and helping himself to the leaves of a large tree.

The roots of the valley oak have intimate symbiotic associations with many of the region’s mycorrhizal fungi which are essential to their survival — and one of the main reasons Southern California should favor the planting of native trees over imports like the pepper trees, goldenrains, jacarandas, bottle brushes, &c which, although drought tolerant, are simply incapable of slotting into an ecosystem which evolved over millions of years without them.

The valley oak is endemic to California, where its range stretches along the valleys and foothills of San Diego County in the south to Sikiyou County in the north. They live to be up to 600 years, which means that the oldest trees were alive during the fall of Constantinople, the invention of the printing press, the domination of Central Asia by Tamerlane’s Timurid Empire, and closer to home, the rise of the Inca and Aztec empires.

Until it fell on 1 May 1977, the tallest valley oak was the so-called “Hooker Oak,” which stood until then in Chico. Because its trunk had a massive diameter of 8.8 meters, its age was at the time estimated to be over 1,000 years old. However, once dead it was determined that the tree owed its girth to the fact that it was in fact two specimens, both of roughly 325 years of age, which had long ago grown together into one. It appeared in many films where it proved a natural in its many roles as a tree.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), co-starring the Hooker Oak

The current tallest valley oak is the so-called “Henley Oak,” a specimen which towers 47 meters above the floor of the Round Valley in Covelo. It is named after Thomas J. Henley, a one-time Superintendent of Indian Affairs notable for opening the region to European-American settlers in defiance of a federal order which had promised the land to Native Americans, resulting in a great deal of regrettable bloodshed between indigenous Californians and immigrants. The tree is believed to be more than 500 years old, meaning it sprouted from an acorn and was possibly producing its own well before the first Spanish galleon, San Salvador, sailed along the coast.

The Henley Oak (source unknown)

Mike and I turned back after reaching Rock Pool, and again we crossed the valley featured in M*A*S*H. This time, surprisingly, I did find myself somewhat reminded of Korea — or at least of Korean (and Chinese) landscape painting. By this time, the sun had set and the gold hour was transitioning to blue. The oak woodland seemed to be climbing up the base of the improbably steep sandstone hillsides. Tipping the scales of perception, perhaps, was the presence of a Korean family attempting to take photos of a toddler with the scenery as a backdrop.

Korean landscape painting? Oak woodland at the base of low mountains

I sometimes have a physical sensation of being pulled into the woods and the longer I looked at the trees, the stronger the pull seemed to grow. I had to fight the urge to enter the forest because the park had officially closed the moment the sun sank behind the horizon and currently, there is no overnight camping because in June, 35-year-old Tristan Beaudette was shot to death in the tent he was sharing with his two young daughters. Since then, rumors and other reports of gunfire in the park have emerged both following the murder and stretching back to 2016 and there’s an ongoing investigation.

Vacant campsite under a canopy of oak trees)

Hopefully, the murderous gunman will be caught and peace and campers will again return to the park. It looks like a really wonderful place to pitch a tent for a weekend, perhaps do a bit of forest bathing, or even just contemplate the scenery. As we continued toward the exit, the crescent moon (which had hung in the sky throughout our day) was now shining brightly and bats were flitting about in search of a meal. We hurried our pace and left the park without incident.

Eric Brightwell is an adventurer, writer, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener who is always seeking paid writing, speaking, traveling, and art opportunities. He is not interested in generating advertorials, cranking out clickbait, or laboring away in a listicle mill “for exposure.”

Brightwell has written for Angels Walk LA, Amoeblog, Boom: A Journal of California, diaCRITICS, Hidden Los Angeles, and KCET Departures. His art has been featured by the American Institute of Architects, the Architecture & Design Museum, the Craft & Folk Art Museum, Form Follows Function, Los Angeles County Store, the book Sidewalking, Skid Row Housing Trust, and 1650 Gallery. Brightwell has been featured as subject in The Los Angeles Times, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Magazine, LAist, CurbedLA, Eastsider LA, Boing Boing, Los Angeles, I’m Yours, and on Notebook on Cities and Culture. He has been a guest speaker on KCRW‘s Which Way, LA? and at Emerson College. Art prints of Brightwell’s maps are available from 1650 Gallery. He is currently writing a book about Los Angeles and you can follow him on Ameba, Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram, Mubi, Twitter, and Weibo.

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Source: https://ericbrightwell.com/2018/09/18/those-useless-trees-the-valley-oak/

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