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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

I love me some angst and this baby trapped au is sustaining me!! But I gotta ask… what happens if darling just haves the baby then up and leaves in the middle of night?? Leaving Simon and Johnny to raise this baby they forced on her?? Or even worse (and forgive me for this) she dies in childbirth and then they finally have their baby but no darling…. They’re probably having some regrets about lying to her lol

This au has invaded my life and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m hooked ❤️🪝

SEEK HELP. But don't, because I love you. And this.

Baby trap au / Darling left after discovering her tampered birth control 18+ Mature themes. Character death. Childbirth. Hurt absolutely no comfort.

It starts with the twinge in the lower part of your belly, off to the left side. You had woken up with it, on top of your usual sore back and stiff muscles, the everyday occurrences that seemed plague you consistently since the start of your third trimester. You were always hot, always tired, always crampy, grumpy, and generally... miserable.

You didn't mean to be, but being pregnant was a hardship in so many ways, and being pregnant with no one to help you, was even harder. It took its toll. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. And now, by the ninth month... you were just so ready to be done with it.

You hadn't seen or talked to the guys since the day you walked out, the day you found that fucked up piece of foil, the day you realized what they did, and you left. You hated them for it. Hated them, for taking away your choice. Hated them, for trying to control your body. Hated them, for removing your autonomy.

At night, when you laid down to sleep, it was impossible not to feel other things, the longing, the loneliness, the love, that still lived in your heart for them, against all odds, the ache of missing them growing in your soul as your baby grew each month.

You were in an impossible situation. One you didn't know what do with it.

But today, you were preoccupied with the twinge. The twinge, that had bloomed into a full spasm of muscles across your belly, the twinge that had your boss insisting you go to hospital as soon as possible.

"Let us call an ambulance. I've had four kids! I know labor when I see it." She had hemmed and hawed while you told her it wasn't necessary, that you weren't even in active labor yet, and that you still felt totally okay.

"I'm fine." you had reassured her. "Walking is good for labor right? I'm just going to walk the three blocks and be fine."

Six hours later, you're in a bed with your legs in a pair of stirrups with a nurse by your side, holding your hand as your contractions get closer and closer, your body seizing and cramping with pain through each one, the sting getting worse and worse as the minutes tick on.

You're doing this. You're having a baby. Alone.

The realization shocks you, startles you into a moment of weird, zen like reflection, like everything is moving in slow motion around you, like nothing is progressing as you think about the fact that the guys aren't actually here, that you never did call them, that you never did tell them that you wanted to forgive them one day. That you wanted to talk to them. See them again.

That you wanted them to be here with you, for this, to see the birth of their daughter.

Another contraction rips through you and steals your breath, and you faintly hear the nurse telling you breathe while your body locks up in unmeasurable pain. Something prods between you legs, and then there's a voice saying you're fully dilated, and ready to push.

Ready? Now?

No. No... you can't. It's too fast. They're not here. They need to be here. You have to call them.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." The nurse speaks softly to you, but you can't help it. You want them. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be ones holding your hand, helping you, cutting the cord.

"We're going to push on the next contraction, okay?" Your doctor tells you, but you shake your head vehemently.

"No. I want my partners." you sob, and your nurse makes a sympathetic noise, while stroking some hair out of your face.

"You have to push." The nurse encourages, and pain streaks across your belly, sharp and insistent, forcing you to gasp for more air. "Ready? Push!" She tries to coach you, but you can't do it, can't even move, your body just writhing through the pain as your head spins and you pant. Your doctor says your name, kindly but somewhat stern after the contraction passes, and you moan.

"This baby is coming. You have to push." She says, and you know she's right, but you just can't get there in your mind, unable to consider the idea of her being born without Johnny or Simon being here.

"I want them." you sob, another spasm ripping through your body, forcing you to curl forward with an anguished shout. The nurse blots a cool, damp cloth against your head, while someone else on your other side adjusts your bed. There are people everywhere, all moving around in flurry, except for the doctor who's settling between your legs, eyes locking onto yours above your mask.

"There's no time dear." She says, and when you look up into your nurse's face, she seems sincere, encouraging and sweet, but you don't care. You want Johnny. You want Simon.

"P-please." You moan. "My phone- the passcode is 6669." The numbers come as a grunt when another contraction pulses through you. It's awful, burning, biting pain that shreds your belly, the muscles in your thighs, your back, everywhere, and you scream through it, while the two nurses on either side of you fold your legs back and the doctor coaches you to push.

"I can't!" You really can't. You can't do this without them. You don't even care about what they did anymore. You don't want to do this without them. They have to be here. "I can't, I ca-can't. Please, call Johnny. Or, or Simon." You pant, and eye the nervous looking aide that stands behind one of the nurses. "Call them!" You shout, and your sweet nurse gives him a nod, urging him into action as he fumbles with your phone and steps outside.

"Okay sweetheart. We're calling them, okay? But you have to push. Your body is ready." You shake your head, but you know she's right. You can feel your body bearing down, your muscles working inside of you, everything aligning so that you can have this baby.

It fills you with fear. Dread overcomes you, and when you feel the next contraction coming on, you begin to hyperventilate.

You can't have their baby without them.

"No... nonono-" You protest, like you're telling yourself, your own body, not to do what it was meant to do. It's useless however, because as your contraction peaks, your doctor is counting, and you can't help but push the way your body wants to, screaming your pain as loud as you can.

"Good job." She encourages once it passes, her eyes checking a tablet that's held in front of her face quickly, before returning her gaze back to you. "Okay, next one you're going to push for the full ten seconds okay? You can do it."

"I don't want to." You protest with a cry, and your nurse pats your hand sympathetically.

"I know, I know." She helps shift you forward, and then the next one is coming, and you feel like you're being torn apart, like your body is burning and being ripped in two as you push.

"I can see the head, you're almost there." Someone says, but you're not sure who it is, or if you care, your focus moving to one sole thing now, getting this baby out of your body as fast as you can. You breathe for maybe five seconds before the next wave begins, and then you're dropping your chin to your chest while you push with everything you have, voices in the room rising and falling, everything feeling too loud and too overwhelming, and then all of the sudden, there's a shifting inside of you, and then suddenly an overwhelming emptiness before-

a screaming, crying, shrieking baby is plopped onto your chest.

"There she is!" Your nurse calls, and you stare, slack jawed, unable to speak, unable to move while they cover her with a blanket and someone continues to work between your legs. "Congratulations mum!" The baby cries, and you lift a hand to cradle her closer while someone wipes around the top of her head.

"Hi, Bee... I'm your mom." you cry, and lower your lips to her head, placing a soft kiss on her skin while someone rubs her down. She cries, lungs healthy and full of power, and you laugh a little.

"Did you get a hold of them?" You ask him breathlessly, and he nods with a gulp.

"They're on their way." They're on their way. The words slam against your heart, and the feeling of relief is immense. They're coming. They're going to be here.

"Thank you." You hardly look at him, keeping your eyes on Bee, and her little angel face, perfect in every way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. The doctor works on you, pressing on your stomach a few times in an awful way that hurts but is necessary, and then your bed is moved to a better position for sitting up. Bee is removed from your chest for measurements and a quick clean up, before she's placed back in your arms, freshly swaddled and soothed. You're mesmerized by her nose, her eyelashes, her tiny fingers that wrap around one of yours. Your baby, your daughter. The one you carried for nine months, the one that you went through so much heartache for, the one that you struggled so much for, was finally here. You wish they were here already, to see her, to see how precious she is, how amazing, and you sniffle through some tears when you realize you'll get to see the looks on both their faces when they see her for the first time, when they hold her.

You lift your hand to stroke the softness of her cheek, and frown, when it doesn't really cooperate... the limb feeling heavy and stiff, like it's not even really on your body. That's... weird. You try again, and again, with no success, and then you realize the room is kind of shifting, kind of spinning slightly, like you're dizzy.

"Uh-" You call out to the nurse who's on a laptop at the desk, her back partially turned towards you, and she glances over with a smile that quickly changes to a firm line when she rushes over. "I feel funny." You tell her, and she nods, the mechanics of the bed whirring while you're lowered completely flat. Bee cries, disrupted by the movement, and you want to shush her, soothe her, but the words don't come, and everything is very loud all of the sudden, bells, whistles, beeps and alarms going off at a frantic pace overtop the voices that have quickly filled the room.

"-ake the baby."

"too much-"

"hemmorage-"

The words come in clips, and your vision becomes filled with white dots as Bee is lifted off your chest, the arm that held her close to your body falling limply to your side. What's happening? You want to ask, want to scream it at them. Where are you taking her? She's crying in the nurse's arms, her distressed little face the last thing you see before your vision goes completely black, and you fade away.

"Drive fucking faster." Johnny shouts, and Simon squeezes his knee to try to calm him as best he can in this moment, even though the two of them are the farthest thing from being calm.

You were in labor, and you had actually called them. Simon's heart had soared when he answered the phone, telling the guy on the phone to tell you that they were on their way, that they'd be there soon while he and Johnny sprinted to the car. You had called them. You wanted them there.

"Tell her we love her!" He had huffed while fumbling with the keys. "We love her so much. We'll be there soon."

"Settle, Johnny." He's trying to keep Johnny calm, trying to keep himself calm, while also trying to drive as fast as possible to get to you.

"Aye, 'm sorry. I'm just... I can't wait to see her. I can't believe she called." Simon can't either. He can't believe that after eight months of being apart, eight months of wondering if they'd even ever see you again, it was them you were calling for when you needed someone, them that you wanted by your side.

It felt like a gift. It felt like a second chance.

"I hope she's okay." Johnny hedges, nervous tinge to his voice and Simon rubs his thigh to try to soothe him.

"I'm sure she's fine, babies are born all the time, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They rush the desk when they get there, both spitting out your name and the woman jerks backwards before adjusting, typing onto her keyboard to locate your record. A full minute passes, while the receptionist's brow furrows, and they both nearly explode.

"She should be here, we got a phone call." Johnny blurts.

"Should be in labor and delivery." Simon tries to provide, helpfully and they both stand there anxiously, while she taps away.

"Ah! Sorry, there she is. I've paged the L&D department, and someone will be down shortly. You can wait in those seats over there." She points to some arm chairs, and they both ignore the suggestion, opting to stand right in front of a set of doors.

"Mr. Riley? Mr MacTavish?" A female voice calls a few minutes later, and they nod, overeager as she approaches. A million questions bubble up in Simon's head, where are you, have you delivered yet, are you doing okay, how's the baby... but they all come to a screeching halt when the doctor gets close enough for him to read her face.

No.

"Can you come with me?"

"And there was just too much blood. Once the hemorrhaging started, it couldn't be controlled." Johnny hears what the doctor is saying. He can hear her, loud and clear. He copies her.

But he doesn't understand. His brain can't make the words fit, can't make them make sense. What does that mean? He glances at Simon, who doesn't look at him, just stares at the doctor, face stricken, pale as ash. Like he's seen a ghost. Like someone has died. But that can't be right.

"Alright." He says slowly. "But she's going to be okay?"

"Johnny." Simon croaks, and the doctor shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. MacTavish. She's gone." Who's gone? Not you, obviously. What's going on here?

"No. No, no she can't be gone." Johnny protests. This doctor is clearly confused. "She just had someone call us. She's having... she's having a baby. Our baby. She's-" The doctor gives him a sad look, sympathetic and understanding. "No. She can't be gone, we just... we just got here. We-"

"Johnny." Simon says again and Johnny pivots on him.

"Tell her Si. Tell her, she's alright." Simon swings an arm forward, grabbing him by the collarbone, and holding on tight, pulling him close to his body.

It's only then, when Johnny looks up into Simon's face, and sees the tears there, sees those eyes, flooded, sees his cheeks, wet, his face full of turmoil and distress, that it really makes sense.

"No." He whispers. "No, she can't be." He shakes his head, and Simon tries to hold it still, tries to cradle his face in his palms. "Simon." He moans, word splitting into a cry, and then he's burying his face into Simon's neck, spilling hot tears onto his skin. Darling. Their Darling. Their Darling girl. Gone.

Because of them.

They did this.

Simon's body is shaking, shoulders trembling with his sobs, while he holds Johnny close, and Johnny screams into his chest, he screams and he screams until there's nothing left inside of him, every second ticking by bringing him farther and farther away from a time in his life when you still existed, when you were still in this world with them. And he wants it to stop, he wants it to stop so fucking bad but it won't, and he can't make it, he can't do anything, except stand here and scream, scream and beg and plead an unknown entity who's never given him anything good except for you and Simon.

They never got to tell you they still love you.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

Hours later, they sit in a room with an empty bed, side by side, while a nurse stands in front of them with a tiny, sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket.

"This is your daughter." She tells them. "Her name is Bee."

"Bee." Johnny whispers, and she nods.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Yes." Johnny says, but the word sounds flat, and he feels numb. The nurse places little Bee in his arms, while Simon watches, unblinking from where he sits right next to him. "Bee." He says again, looking down at her, truly looking at her for the first time. She looks so much like you, more like you than either of them, and he can't stop the tears that fall freely, while Simon reaches over and hesitantly strokes her cheek with a knuckle.

"She's beautiful." Simon whispers hoarsely, voice coarse with tears, and Johnny agrees. Johnny tries to stifle a sob, desperate not to wake Bee while she sleeps, but Simon can't stop himself, and he covers his face with his hand to try to smother his cry. "She looks just like her." Simon chokes, and Johnny's arms shake around where Bee is cradled. He leans to the side, into Simon, who wraps his arm around him immediately, holding Johnny while he holds their daughter, your daughter. They cannot stop their tears, their hearts cracking wide open in both of their chests as they stay down her, their only piece left of you in this world, the only thing they have left to cling to.

"You look just like your mum, baby Bee."

#tw pregnancy #baby trap au #tw childbirth #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader

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strwberri-milk · 1 year

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nsfw request pleasee where kaeya and reader make out real long and good and just hump one another till they both cum untouched like that 😋

hello how did you know what has been rotting my brain lately im fucking crying this was the ask that made me think it was my friend bc we were. literally talking about this for the longest time - also reader is G/N

The two of you thought it would be fine. Just one kiss or two before you two would settle down for the night and cuddle each other up. You both had long days after all and were looking forward to the much-needed rest but clearly, your bodies were nowhere near done with each other.

Kaeya's mind spins with each breathless gasp you press into his mouth. He pulled you into his lap a long time ago, leaning against the headboard as his knees keep your body steady against his chest. Your fingers comb through his washed hair and pull slightly, making him moan against your lips.

"You're such a brat," you mutter, hand tightening as he kisses you harder in retaliation.

"Me? You're the one who jumped me as soon as I got my pants on," he scoffs, bringing your hand down to feel his crotch.

"You should have known that's what would happen when you wear sweats like that," you scoff, bringing your hand back up to wrap around his shoulders.

"So it's my fault now, huh?" he challenges.

He puts both his hands on your waist, bringing you to directly straddle his crotch. Your warmth makes him shudder, hips bucking up into you. You're about to scold him when he begins to make the movements of his hips more intentional, cutting off your words with a moan when he manages to hit you right at your most sensitive part.

"How dirty of you~ Should you really be making noises like that?" he teases, stealing your lips again in another kiss.

You can't help but melt in his grasp, letting him cup your face as his tongue enters your mouth again. The way it moves against you is so lewd you can't help but let your thighs clench up around his waist, glad that his knees were still able to hold you steady against his body.

"You're doing this to me," you say weakly when he lets you breathe, shuddering when he starts to kiss up your neck. He sucks a dark mark on the side of your throat, hips still moving against yours in a practiced motion.

You try to spread your thighs as much as you can sitting on his lap, rutting against him desperately. He huffs against your ear, making your hole twitch needily with every sound he makes. His voice was so pretty, even more so when he was making noises like this.

You try to angle yourself against him more optimally, mind fogging up as he continues to kiss you breathlessly. Kaeya was obsessed with your lips and you knew that but it never stopped you from melting into the palm of his hand. He knew exactly how to keep you entranced with him, cooing and muttering the softest things into your ear as he moves your hips to circle against his stiff cock.

"Don't say that baby. You want this too, don't you? Doesn't it feel so good?" he purrs, digging his nails into the waist of your pants.

"You feel so fucking good on my cock like this. C'mon, we can keep going can't we? Just like this?"

You nod, hungrily kissing him when he tilts your head down to face him. You know you could spend the rest of your life like this, caught in his lap as the two of you build up to s slow release of pleasure. It lets you feel him, adore the way the man underneath you is so obsessed with you and your love for him that you barely register the shift as he presses you onto the sheets to get on top of you.

He stares down at you, plump lips panting as he drinks you in. There's a prominent wet spot on your crotch as there is on his, biting back his desire to pull your pants down to sink into you and fuck you until there was nothing on your mind but him.

Later, just not quite yet.

For now, he just watches as you gasp needily, hands grasping his shirt and pulling him down to kiss him again. He barely grazes his lips against yours, instead focusing on slotting your hips together and painting your ears with his lovely noises.

His hands grab yours, holding them tightly as he presses them beside your head. It keeps you still, unable to fight against him as your thighs are forced to accommodate the rough grind of his hips against yours, his mind now focused on one thing and one thing only.

"You can cum for me, can't you? Cum all over your pants even though I'm not touching you?" he asks, voice sounding so sweet despite the slightly degrading tone of his words.

You nod frantically, humping against him desperately when you feel your body catch against something that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Oh - Kaeya - mmn -" you sigh, fingers tightening against his as his pace speeds up. He's getting rougher with your body, making you keen harder into him.

"Please, just a little more. I'm almost there," you whine, feeling him bury his face into your neck as he presses impossibly tighter against him.

"Me too. Cum for me darling. Make a fucking mess in your pants for me and I'll reward you, okay?"

You nod frantically, the feeling of his breath and lips spattering all over your neck and collar only adding to the slow climb of your climax. You can feel the crotch of your pants grow damp with your release, Kaeya doing the same as he cums against you.

Your body feels incredibly wet, sweat clinging to your body as the two of you come down from your high. He kisses all over your face, then body as he begins to strip you down, mouth lapping over your core as you tremble slightly from the overstimulation.

"You did so good for me sweetheart. I can't wait to make you scream."

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

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Hello! Could you write a story where the reader has a panic attack and Helion comforts her? Thank you!

P.S love your stories. I reread them often.

I’m With You

Helion x reader

A/n: Thank you anon! I hope you like this one. As someone who has anxiety and has suffered panic attacks this was therapeutic to write out. Honestly might do ones for Az, Cass, and Eris.

Warnings: mental health struggles and panic attack

Today had been a very long day. All day you had been pushing your feelings down. You were anxious about meeting with the governors, you had this gnawing feeling like you were missing something, and you hadn’t seen Helion all day.

Usually you two would have lunch together but today you just kept missing each other. You also felt nauseous thanks to your anxiety. The only thing you could stomach was water but you were starving. You were hoping to have dinner with him but you assumed he already since it was so late.

You had always struggled with your mental health. You tried to hide it from Helion but that made things worse. As your relationship progressed he was always there to help you when you were feeling down. He’s a great listener and very in tune with his emotions.

He always made you feel better, reminding you that you're strong and he loved you no matter what. When you felt like a burden Helion was there to remind you that it was never a burden to be with you.

As you walked toward yours and Helion’s living quarters you rubbed at your temples. Your heart had been beating sporadically for hours. You were shaking and your breathing was coming in quick, like you couldn’t get air down fast enough.

Walking faster and faster, with tears blurring your vision, you threw open the living room doors. Slamming them shut, you rest your head against the cool wood. Trying to take deep breaths you sink down to the floor.

After a few moments, you feel a large hand being placed gently on your shoulder. You jump, turning quickly to face the person who your brain thought was going to harm you. Seeing Helion’s concerned face, you relax as best you can.

You didn't know Helion was in here. You felt bad interrupting him with your problems. You couldn't help but feel like a burden no matter how much you try to talk yourself down. Hell, you didn't even want to deal with your anxiety, so why should he?

“Hey, hey, sunbeam. What’s wrong?” Your breathing was scarily uneven. You were pressing your lips together as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Starting to shake your head, Helion sat on the floor across from you.

Helion noticed the uneven breathing and your shaking hands and immediately knew you were having a panic attack. “Is it ok if I move you to the couch?” You give him a tight nod. He scoops you up and gently places you on the couch, your back to the arm rest.

He sits in front of you holding your hand, tracing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. “Ok, y/n lets take a deep breath ok.” He leads you through breathing exercises as he slowly brings your hand closer to his chest.

He lays your hand flat above his heart. “Can you feel that?” “Uh huh.”

“Good. Now more breathing.” Helion said softly as he lead you through more breathing exercises. You were finally able to move your hand on your own, the stiffness wearing off. You bunch up part of Helion’s shirt and let go, spreading your fingers. You repeat the motion a few more times.

Closing your eyes you let out a shaky breath. You're through the worst of it but you know there will be a lingering sad feeling inside you for the rest of the night. Your eyes meet Helions and he gives you a soft smile.

“Hey, baby. Are you feeling better?” You nod, “Yeah I'm ok.” You move closer to him, curling into his side. Helion wraps his arms around you.

Helion leaves soft kisses on the top of your head. “Let's go to bed, baby.” You mumble out an ok and he stands with you in his arms.

He sits you on the bed, arms still around you, “Do you want a sleep shirt?” “No. Can we...can we sleep without PJs tonight?” Helion nodded and started taking his shirt and pants off as you slip out of your dress. Helion pushes back the covers, you both get under and he pulls you onto his chest.

Sleeping skin-to-skin with Helion always helped after a panic attack. It was soothing and made that lingering sad feeling fade. “Thank you, Helion.” He runs his hand down your back, “I’ll always be here for you y/n.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #helion fluff #high lord helion #Helion angst #helion acotar #helion x reader #helion spell cleaver #helion x you

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kdogreads · 1 year

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Dean and redheads is something I never thought I’d love 😩😩 Can you do more?

The Devil’s Work

Dean x Reader Smut (18+)

Summary: Dean pays you a late night visit with one thing on his mind.

Warnings: oral sex (fem-receiving), hair kink(?), very slight degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cursing; please let me know anything else

Word count: 2184

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, my fiery friend. Please tell me what other redhead adventures you want to see Dean go on! Enjoy at your own risk 🤤

This is the second part of my Dean x Redhead series of one shots. Please send suggestions this way! Read the first one here

Requests are open! Message me :)

———————————————————

A firm knock rasped on your bedroom door and echoed through the cavernous hallways of the bunker. You figured both the boys were in their rooms by now, so your mind wandered with all the terrible reasons one of them could be coming to get you this late.

Dressed only in an oversized t-shirt and plain underwear with your crimson hair tied up in a loose braid, you cracked the door open and stood mostly behind it.

There were only two possibilities as to who could be the body behind the knock, but you were still surprised to see Dean standing in the dimly lit hallway.

“Hi?” Is all that escaped your lips, looking up at him with furled eyebrows.

“Hey, y/n. Ya busy?” Dean questioned you in a low, slow voice.

“As busy as you are, sunshine,” You replied suggestively. You could read Dean’s intentions all over his face like an open book.

You looked at each other a moment longer, Dean’s eyes wandering down your body to your bare legs as you stepped out from behind the door. You toyed with the end of your soft braid that fell over your shoulder.

“So, you comin’ in or stayin’ out there?” You swung the door open further and motioned for him to come in.

Dean took a swift step in and cupped his hands around your face, pulling you closer to him. His eyes shifted to your plump lips as his tongue swiped across his own bottom lip subconsciously.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean whispered to you, his warm breath filling your senses.

“You better, Winchester,” A devilish smile crept across your face.

Before you could take another breath, Dean’s lips crashed into yours. Your hands melted into his skin, clawing at his back and his neck, fingers twirling through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

The two of you took another step into your room, lips never parting, and Dean kicked the door shut behind him.

His hands slid under your shirt and pulled it over your head in one quick motion. Just as swiftly, his hands went to the back of his neck, pulling his shirt over his head and onto the floor.

You pressed your bare torsos together again and you shivered as the warmth of his chest contrasted the cool air around you.

Dean walked you backwards until the backs of your knees touched your soft mattress. You slid your hands down Dean’s firm chest to his stomach before reaching the buckle on his belt.

His tongue was now swirling around your mouth, sloppily kissing you. Desperate for your touch.

You undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, fumbling with the stiff fabric before he took over from your hands and slid them down his legs kicked them off. You stood there, pressed together, with only thin pieces of underwear separating where you most desperately wanted to touch.

His lips parted from yours for the first time as he sat back onto your bed. Eyes screaming for you to come get him.

You lifted one leg and swung it onto the bed next to his, grabbing onto his shoulders for stability, while he gripped your other thigh firmly and pulled you onto his lap.

His emerald eyes met your dark ones as his large hands glided up your body. Both of you savored the view of lust-filled eyes and heaving chests in front of you. Dean’s cock grew harder under your aching center as you slowly rounded your hips into his.

Dean’s large hands reached your loose red braid. He twisted his fingers around the furthest ends while you tugged at his own short spikes on the back of his head.

He loved to play with your waving auburn locks, and you loved seeing the look of desire on his face while he did.

Carefully, he slid his fingers through the loose gaps.

Before you even realized it, he took a firm hold on your locks and tugged your head back. You let out a gasp as the sharp pain made your throbbing core grow wetter.

“Why don’t we let this down, hm?” He breathed into your ear and all you could do was nod while your whole body ached for more of Dean.

He carefully slid the hair tie off the bottom of your thick crimson braid. His fingers intermixed between the loose gaps and slowly unfurled it piece by piece until your flaming waves were falling all around you both.

Dean tangled his hands into the soft fire engulfing your shoulders and pulled your face back to his, kissing you with a slower, deeper pace than before.

He pulled away from you again, drawing a low whimper from your lips, already missing the pressure of his on them.

“On your back,” He growled into your neck, leaving a small bite just above your collarbone.

You hissed at the sensation and felt the pit in your stomach stir, the tension already building up.

“Do I have to ask again?” Dean spoke louder this time, grabbing a fist full of the hair he loved so much and yanking your face to his.

“No,” You panted, “No sir.”

“Good girl,” Dean hummed into your lips as you climbed off of his lap and laid back onto your mattress. Your locks fell around you like a halo of fire.

“Don’t they say the devil made you redheads?” Dean questioned, lips pouted slightly with his head tilted to one side. He looked at you like he was taking in every inch of your soft body, memorizing all the lines and curves.

“I didn’t think to ask,” You breath out with a snarky tone, sliding your underwear down to your knees before Dean pulls them the rest of the way off. He made quick work of his boxers and gave his throbbing cock a few pumps in one strong hand.

Dean smiled a cocky smile before grabbing your hips and sliding you closer to him. He ran a thick finger up and down your glistening folds drawing a sharp inhale into your lungs. He dragged the slickness up to your swollen clit and drew tight circles over it, sending your head back sharply and your hips to buck into his hand.

“This eager for me?” Dean spoke as he slid the thick finger to your entrance and broke through the opening. A low moan escaped from your throat.

“This wet?” He pumped his finger slowly at first before adding another and speeding up the pace.

“Unholy,” He breathed through a crooked smile, his tongue poking out to lick his lower lip. His pace never slowed and you cried out when his thumb swiped over your aching bud.

“Beg,” He growled.

“Dean,” You whined, “Please.” You could think of nothing but how desperately you wanted Dean inside you, filling your walls and stretching you in the ways only he could. You would have said anything he wanted.

“Please, Dean, I need you inside me,” You grabbed a handful of bedsheets as you felt your walls tightening around his calloused fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl after all, hm?” He leaned down to place a playful bite on your left breast, fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing you closer and closer to your release.

You whimpered when his fingers suddenly disappeared.

“I love that look on you, baby girl. So desperate for my cock,” Dean hissed as he lined his throbbing tip up with your dripping core.

You bit your lower lip, your eyes rolling back at the anticipation of Dean sinking into you.

You let out a sharp exhale as Dean slowly slid his throbbing tip into your anxious entrance. Groans escape both of your lips as he works his way into you, tight walls stretching to adjust to his demanding presence in your aching core.

He backs out until only his tip remains past your entrance before plunging back into you, bottoming out as his thighs meet yours.

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” You gasp between thrusts, “God, you feel so good.”

He keeps a punishing pace, throwing your legs over his shoulder and grabbing hard onto your thighs. The new angle sends you spiraling towards your high, each thrust crashing into your deepest sweet spot.

“I- I can’t,” You try desperately to articulate the tension threatening to break deep in your core, “I’m so close, Dean”

“That’s my good girl,” He hums, “Cum for me baby. Let me feel you.”

His words were enough to cause the string in you to snap. Your eyes slam shut, head falling back while your back arches off the bed. Dean’s hand reaches for your clit, the small circles of his finger tip sends you gasping for air. Pleasure courses through your veins as the world disappears around you and all you can focus on is the way Dean’s large cock feels inside you, the way you can feel every move all the way in your toes. The noises escaping your lips are like music to Dean’s ears.

He rides you through your climax, a smirk growing across his face as your eyes flutter back open, grounding you back to the earth.

Dean’s pace slows for the first time as he slides your legs back down to meet the mattress. He slowly slides his still rock hard cock out of you and you let out a low whine.

“So pretty, baby,” He leans over you and kisses you, his tongue fighting its way into your mouth, “Turn around, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty red hair I love.”

You quickly obey, eager to feel Dean deep inside you again. He grabs you by the hips and moves you to exactly where he wants, instantly gliding his tip over your dripping folds.

He swiftly slides all the way back into you, eliciting a deep moan from your parted lips. You lift your head slightly as he resumes the rough pace, allowing your loose waves to fall around your shoulders, bouncing up and down with each thrust.

One of Dean’s large hands remains glued to the flesh just above your round ass, slamming you into him and watching the way your body rolls and jolts each time he plows into you. His other hand glides up your spine, sending shivers over your shaking body, and grabs a fistful of the messy auburn waves, pulling your head to the side so he can see your face.

“Stunning, baby,” He bites his lower lip, his face contorting into looks of painful restraint, “‘m gonna make a mess out of you.”

You slam your body back into his, his cock poking your cervix with each movement. The hand that was gripping into your flesh wraps around your thigh and reaches for your swollen clit. His rough fingers skillfully draw you towards another orgasm as he nears his own.

Your vision blurs as Dean’s thrusts become more desperate. The waves of pleasure take over your senses as your walls tighten around him and your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

You moan out Dean’s name as your head falls back, his fingers still tangled in the flaming locks. The shockwaves coursing through your dripping pussy send Dean over the edge.

“Ah, fuck, y/n,” Is all Dean can manage before he hurriedly slides himself out of you and releases his load onto your arching back. The sticky warmth reaching up to your shoulders and into your messy red mane.

A cocky grin spreads across Dean’s face as he comes down from his high. You lay your head down against the bed as Dean quickly grabs his discarded shirt to clean you up.

“Always a gentleman you are, Dean,” You tease as you flip over to your back once his hands leave your reeling body.

He lets out a chuckle in response as he climbs onto the bed beside you, pulling your blanket over the two of you. You curl into his side, instinctively tangling your legs with his and place your hand on his chest.

“Anything for you, my little fireball,” Dean cooed into your ear as he planted a soft kiss onto your temple. He reached for your messy crown and played with it absentmindedly while you settled into him.

“I’m going to have to wash this now, you know,” You playfully complain as he keeps twisting pieces around his fingers.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He whispers into the top of your head and you feel a laugh vibrate in his chest.

“No you’re not,” You quip back with a smile.

“No, I’m not,” Dean answers with a laugh. You lay comfortably together for another long moment.

“Y/n?” He whispers to you.

“Hm?”

“You’re the devil’s work for sure,” Dean proclaims playfully, landing another kiss on your temple.

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes, placing a light smack onto his chest. Both of you laughed as you took your place back on his chest and let the post-high calm wash over both of you and send you into a content, satisfied sleep.

Join my tag list! Thank you so much for the love ❤️ @this-is-me19

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean #dean smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #supernatural one shot #spn #Dean x redhead #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester one shot #kdogreads

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oxygenbefore1775 · 1 year

Text

teaching you how to play guitar

❧pairing: jean x afab!scout!reader

❧tags: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), mid-timeskip

❧cw: fingering, one (1) petname used, overstim, weird as shit guitar imagery

❧wc: 1,4k

❧summary: while out on deployment you asked jean to teach you how to play a guitar

❧a/n: my first dab into the full-on smut; that's what the poll was about; posting it *unconspicuously* in honor of jeans bd; thanx to /hangeslefteye and /pisspope for fueling the shitshow that was my brain while writing this (not tagging directly cuz i dont wanna bother you to much)

"Do you mind teaching me how to play?"

You finally collected enough courage to come up to him for the first time as your squadron was settling down for the night. Jean Kirstein — elite and revered member of the Survey Corps — took his eyes off the singing strings to meet yours. His quick with movements fingers though kept on fiddling, with precise pinches and harsh strokes to the cords eliciting a lively tune out of otherwise stiff metal. Truly fascinating you found this, alluring even, that his fingers were capable of creating such a lovely thing.

Service had become luck-luster and boring as of late with all the titans eradicated and Survey Corps having nothing better to do other than to sit around on the coast waylaying the currently non-existing Marleyan ships, as you explained to Jean. Then might as well entertain yourself and put the hours into a skill that you'd actually enjoy, you mused.

He agreed surprisingly easy. Amber of his eyes shimmering from the flames of the dying campfire as he suggested you two should meet after the lights-out in his tent. It was bigger than yours anyway and his only tentmate Connie was on the watch duty that night so you could have all the place to yourselves.

At that time you thought that the glint in his eyes was all anticipation at the sight of a near practice session, seeing as Jean found guilty pleasure in patronizing. That smile he gave you as you both parted your ways quickly morphed into an amorous smirk when you weren't looking anymore.

Who'd have thunk that it'd end up with you sprawled on the tarpaulin, mind fuzzy and body sheening with sweat, as Jean kept on spearing your sopping cunt with his fingers.

You'd give him that, he at least had a decency to actually start off with teaching you. Positioning himself behind you on the floor as you were holding a guitar, his arms going over yours to guide your movements. You were such a diligent student. Your eyes following each motion of his fingers in an attempt to recreate it afterwards, asking him to go through each chord step-by-step slowly this time and turning your pretty face to him in search of approval each time you got the sound right.

It wasn't like Jean wasn't enjoying teaching you. Just that his thoughts weren't exclusively dedicated to the process. Blame it on the pretty much non-existent distance between your ass and his crotch, your giddy with excitement wriggles coiling him even further. Jean nearly hissed at the feeling of his cock growing hard and heavy against the groove of your ass. The Scout uniform was already damningly form-hugging but now with the arousal taking form there surely wasn't a way for you to not notice it.

And notice it you did. Fucking hell. You couldn't help but to feel pleased with yourself. It's not every day that you get a chance to fuck Jean Kirstein. You leaned against him even more, trying to feel upon the outline of his cock.

Maybe you might've actually learned something about playing guitar this night. Too bad your body was pressing against his a little too hard for Jean's composure to last more than a few minutes before finally snapping. His mind giving way to the intrusive thoughts of your image he succumbed to the urge of planting hot wet kisses down your neck. Caught up by surprise you shuddered with pleasure each time his lips crushed into your supple skin, his mouth burning hot and greedy. Yet another avid caress captivating your lips, you felt Jean's hands pry the guitar away from your grasp and putting it aside as he intended on having you only to himself this night.

"Jean!" you gasped almost jerking at his mere touch to your core once he finally had you bare beneath him, "Your fingers, they're too rough"

The curve of his lips gained a feigned sympathetic expression as he brought his fingertips to his mouth to wet them.

"That's how it's gonna be though," he sweetened your sudden discontent with his tongue licking away at your entrance, "Playing the strings got my pads all rough. But these fingers are meant to last so by the time I'm done with you'll be numb with pleasure"

As you'd come to know very shortly he wasn't the one to be throwing promises around.

His touch remained just as rough. The callouses on his fingertips bullying your sensitive flesh to no end. The whimpers and mewls falling past the brim of your bitten lips Jean drank up with such poise and pleasure as if he wasn't the one to cause them with every drag of his digits against your gummy walls. The solace you found in seeing scarlet stripes your nails left on his shoulders was although sweet yet not enough to forget about your discomfort. All you were left to do is to writhe and whine in a futile attempt to escape his merciless caresses.

But the way he was putting his fingers to use — good grief. As if possessing a hidden knowledge of your body all this time, Jean knew the exact points to hit to make you a squirming mess under his touch. Avid precision to his strokes, he never missed that sweet spot, the pressure he applied just right for your pleasure to get at its peak.

"Now, is that what gets you going sweet thing?" He'd coo at you each time he brought your features to a new stage of twisted pleasure, "Keep those pretty eyes open for me, would you?"

Bliss and pain mixing together in a ontradictory concoction, you felt as if your body would soon shut down.

The first time you came on his fingers, it was unexpected. Orgasm creeping up behind the waves pain and crushing over you in shudders. Ever so gracious, Jean helped you ride out your high, his body towering over yours and his lips covering your contorted face in quick pecks as he indulges you into another kiss.

"Jean," you carded your clammy fingers aimlessly through his hair, trying to get your fleeing mind some sort of purchase, "That was so good"

"I know," through the squint of your eyes you can see him smirk down at you, beaming with benevolence, "Boring life of a Scout, my ass. Just come to my tent every now and then and see how quickly you'd forget your complaints"

Your orgasm leaving you still so sensitive, you quickly noticed how his fingers returned to rubbing circles round your bud of nerves. Your clit still angry and puffy, it hurt so much each time his rough fingerpads did so much as brushed up slightly against your core.

With an intruding kiss he shushed your huffs of protest, "Oh, sweet thing I'm not done with you yet. Haven't you heard me the first time?" his hot breath searing the shell of your ear. "You'll be numb with pleasure"

The man of his word, he kept you up in the tent for almost all night drawing orgasm after orgasm out of your feeble body. Prying you open and discovering the new layers of bliss in you you've never even known of before.

How beautiful he was looking down at you, lulling your distress away with his attentive touch and caress. Like a string of his guitar he had you pinned down, left at the mercy of his never-resting fingers. Impeccable strokes succumbing your body to his will, whimpers and moans chording a sweet melody to his ears.

And just as promised, your mind was a haze, your flesh a putty under his touch by the end of the night. It seemed as your body had no bones, so pliable for him. As he held your trembling form close to his chest he kissed away the salt from your cheeks — the only remnants of your former soreness on your otherwise painted with bliss features.

"Such a sweet thing for me," you smiled lazily at his words, "Coming undone on my fingers like that. The next time I'm teaching you playing guitar, you're going to be riding my dick all throughout"

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot smut #jean #jean kirstein #jean smut #jean x reader #jean x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you

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iheartjohnlennon · 9 months

Text

'Synchronised'

London, '64

Summary: Paul wants to try something new-ish.

Word count: 1,041

Tags: Smut, Light Angst, 69 (Sex Position)

Paul glanced over at your half-naked figure every so often, your feminine silhouette under the duvet made him unbearably stiff.

He veered around to become the big spoon, you could feel his warm flesh flush against your arse, you suspired.

It'd been a relatively long and excruciating day for him, there was no better way to satiate it other than being inside of you of course. It was a principle of life for him, something that always made sense to do, even if it wasn't with you particularly.

But Paul lay in shallow thought beside you on the bed. Despite having such a monumental libido, he had no idea how to go about asking you this, it was rare, even impossible that he felt nervous during pre-shag times.

He sighed in your ear suddenly, you could feel his little mouth kissing your neck. Each smooch sent tingles of pleasure coursing through you. Paul grew more and more desperate for the taste of you and started nibbling. His bid to try to get you to make a noise was successful, your incoherent little whimpers really did it for him.

You turned to finally face him, you were nose close, your breaths mingled.

He had a rat-esque grin on his face, and the creases in his eyes were visible.

You knew exactly what that meant.

"How's about we try somethin' tonigh'?" He asked huskily.

"Like what?" You mused.

Paul was stumped on how to explain it articulately. Him using his mouth on you was a common occurrence, but he hadn't explored any other position than having you on your back, maybe he had you on your hands and knees a few times at that.

He began cautiously, "Well, s'like a position...y'know, sex?"

"Yes Paul, I know what sex is." You snickered.

"Don't get cheeky, y'know wha' I mean love."

You smiled at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it, Paul?"

A flush graced his cheeks as he went to respond, "I'll show ya, only if yer willin' of course."

Paul's hand reached out, he moved his hand beneath your bra, his fingers grazed your bare nipple. A shiver ran through all your erogenous areas as he did so.

In another fluid motion, he slid the duvet off the bed, it made you feel vulnerable and aroused. A sly smile curved his lips as he took in an eye full, appreciating it.

With a firm grip, his hand settled on your hips, he was repositioning and twisting you in an unfamiliar way.

You felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as his movements seemed to match yours, melding your bodies into a perfect configuration.

His intent became palpable as he adjusted you further, his hands swiftly guided your hips so your heat could meet his mouth. You lightly sat on his face but backwards, it was a nice feeling.

Paul made you mirror him as he lowered your back down. He lowered your head down to his eager hardness, your body settled in his chosen and aligned position. It was a bit odd to you but felt right also.

He shifted your knickers, delicately parting the fabric that separated his tongue from your heat. As he did so, your tongue caressed his cock ever so slowly. He responded with muffled groans, "Mm, mmph," they sent soft vibrations through you.

You moved against his face, he relished in the raw wetness of your heat all over his face, he couldn't get enough of it.

You couldn't look him in the eyes while you were like this but he showed a deep intimacy with his touches.

Paul's hands found their way into your hair, his grasp gentle yet possessive. He wasn't happy with your teasing pace so his fingers threaded through the roots of your hair as he bobbed you up and down in a feral manner. Paul couldn't contain himself, his hips jerked upward as he held your head down, making you gag as you rushed to breathe through your nose.

You moved your head up slightly and his grip stopped as he moved his hands to your hips. You reverted to sucking the tip, reminding him that this was supposed to be a mutual suffocation.

Paul tugged your hips down, the sensation of his full face drove you mad. It was a mismatch of pleasure; his nose was partially in your hole, and his tongue felt velvety against your clit. He gave you tiny flicks, they tickled you; made you twitch. It must've been a bizarre and vulgar view.

Paul was simply devouring you with his mouth, he skillfully alternated between his fervent sucks and long licks. You endeavoured to lift yourself when it became too much, but he held you in place, knowingly overstimulating you.

His hands found solace in holding your head down, he gave rough cues, adjusting the pace at his own accord.

He said, or rather mumbled cheeky things against you, they were somewhat intelligible even though your gagging made it tricky to hear.

'Yer drivin' me mad......Do ya like this?......Don't stop Y/N, please jus' don't stop......I carn't hear ya......'

Paul continued his nips and sucks, he edged you nearer to an inevitable release, and you found yourself clenching. The air around you was thick with an intoxicating scent and tepidity.

You both revelled in the taste and texture of skin, you both knew to take each other rougher as you felt the climaxes coming on.

You could feel his receiving and giving movements becoming more urgent, driven by a sharp instinct to cum.

And then, in a final surge of passion, you tasted his thick secretion. In this position all you could do was swallow, although it was messy as it dripped down. A low groan escaped him, he seemed to be trembling.

Whilst you simultaneously finished with him you felt a profound sense of satisfaction.

It'd finally reached its peak.

Paul, his own body slick with perspiration, tenderly moved you off of him, you could finally look at him. God was it good to finally look at him.

You were both in an utterly disgusting state, with tousled hair, a coat of sweat, and smug expressions.

"You've made a righ' mess." He whispered.

#Spotify #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #60s rock #the beatles imagine #the beatles smuts #the beatles x reader #vintage #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george harrison

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yandere-to-express · 7 months

Text

The wrong cranium

Gender neutral

Part 4

"He won't eat pickles," the harried mother said, one hand carrying a baby and the other feeding french fries to the bigger child, one by one, the grease coating all five fingers, bringing a dull, worn shine to the wrinkling skin, the blood-red lacquered nails. Her claws embedded into the crispy yellow sticks, she carried the great haul en-mass into the maw of the child, which opened languorously to accept the filial offering.

You could not avert your gaze from the repulsive sight. Your hands, which are holding a palm-sized notepad and a cheap dollar store pen, had gone stiff, shaking, holding back violent urges you had never felt before.

"I understand," you murmur robotically, letting yourself cling to the walls of your skin. Your hand writes down something. "I will bring a replacement."

"Wonderful," the mother praises. "What a good employee. Did you hear that, Tom? Don't cry anymore."

The child's eyes are hazy, his face slack except for the mouth. Tear tracks are lining his cheeks, but they have already gone dry and salty. You note, with a shiver going through you, that there is mucus leaking out of his nostrils, which means there will be used napkins left on the table. Please, put it in the plate. Put it in the plate. Put it in the plate, with the other messes.

"Sure thing," you talk aloud, not addressing anyone.

Absentminded, you make your way back to the kitchen. The line cook, Hannah, takes one look at you and grabs your notepad, skimming the orders and doing her work without a word of complaint or a whisper of friendliness. The notepad is stuffed back in your hands, and you're left to stand alone on the door threshold. The skin all over you has pebbled in aggression, the feeling astringent against your psyche.

You un-tense your shoulders, swallowing it down. How long has it been? All day, all you could do was watch the outside wistfully, tracking the shades of blue behind clouds drifting in and out. Darker and deeper it went, but never dark enough, never changing hue to the lovely orange that awaited the end of day. Your uniform has grown damp and saggy around your figure too. As a sweat drop drips down your temple, you notice the rigid curve of your spine, vertebrae packed tightly together.

No wonder. You feel smaller. The work has worn you down in more ways than one. You look down at your hands— and see your wrist bones, jutting out. Your veins are swollen under your skin, and when you turn them over, you can watch the visible proof of your pulse, desperate with each pump, blue and green intertwined.

Thump.

You trace it down your inner arm, dipping into your elbow. It jumps inside your bicep, like the whimper of a wound.

Thump.

Inside your neck, it climbs to your skull. You tilt your head back, unblinking, staring at the tiled ceiling and the sharp fluorescent light overhead, staring back at you. Dark flowers bloom in your vision.

…Thump.

Your neck cracks, bringing relief. You inhale, but the process is chopped. It clings to your throat before surrendering, disappearing into your lungs; you feel its function distinctly with every motion. Your chest rises almost exaggeratedly, and caves in with equal fanfare through every breath. Mechanical. A step in the algorithm.

It's a slow coming realization, impeded by exhaustion: there's no instinct to your body. It moves, it acts, but it doesn't know. It obeys you. But it doesn't obey as it has done for the past decades you've had it. It obeys because it's yours, because you know it should do certain processes in the background of your daily life. It's pure, unknowing, a blank slate of renewal and reduction both.

"It's not empty," you whisper. "I'm not empty. I'm okay."

A clatter draws your attention away. In the other room, TK is helping Hannah prepare orders, which reminds you of the hours and hours left of your shift. You hurry over to help them and deliver the dishes to their respective buyers, taking payments and receiving new orders. Cleaning abandoned tables.

In one, you stop in your tracks.

The slimy napkin you dreaded to death is sitting alone in the middle of the table. You can feel the disgusting paws of the sullen child all over it, soaked into the very air it is surrounded by.

Utilizing a second napkin, you pick it up. Drop it in the plate. Done, you tell yourself, wishing away the trembling. It's over.

You go back to the kitchen. You carry perhaps a dozen plates in one weak hand, though it doesn't quiver— it doesn't have the energy to. They're put beside the sink, just like every other dish that's passed into your hands. Without hesitation (but with a certain resignation) you start washing. Rinse, soap up, scrub, rinse. Metal wool, sometimes. Extra soap for grease. Twist furiously inside the mouths of cups, then let the frothing tap water outpour down the rims, bathing your hands dull beige.

As the water keeps running, you look at the vortex above the drain and exhale.

Chest caves in, rises back up.

It's dark inside. You can see the hint of dark, murky green, laden with moss or something worse that you cannot imagine, but you don't look away.

It's so… unending. You visualize a round, wide-open mouth in its place, and think of the amount gulped down its gullet. You cannot calculate it (too tired, too uninterested) but it makes you freeze and stare a little more intently. How parched, how hungry would you need to be, to consume so wholeheartedly?

You move the cup aside to see it more clearly. The drain keeps working, and the water keeps going, and the smell of wet metal wafts over to you. The vortex, over time, loses its color, then its lines…

Then its sound.

The drain is dark and quiet. There's no telling what lies inside it, but you know. You don't need to see to know, bu̟t̰ ̫y͙o͍̼u̻̪ ̠g̤a͎z̡e into its dept̶h̸s̶,̷ ̴d̸o̶w̵n̷,̴ ̵d̶o̷w̴n̶ ̵t̶h̴e̷ ̷p̶i̵p̴e̴,̸ ̶a̶n̸d̸ ̷s̵q̴u̸i̷s̴h̶̢͍e̶͚ḑ̸ ̷̳i̸̭̱n̴̦͍s̸̫̞i̵͚̠d̶̢ę̷ͅ ̴̣t̵̗̰h̶͔ę̸ ̸̩ț̷̘i̷̩g̷̪͉h̷͎t̵͎ ̶̖t̶͚̣u̴̢n̶̻ͅn̴͓e̵͖l̷̠̬s̷̢ ̶͜a̶̟ṋ̸̪d̴̘͓ ̷̖l̶̖̼a̴̺b̴͈̖y̷̥͙r̷̮̙i̶̙̼n̵̬̦t̵͉h̶̻̞i̶̫ṇ̴̱e̴̫ ̵͎̻n̶̮ḛ̸t̷̗̣w̸̠o̴͓r̷͓k̷͇ ̷̼̩o̵̢ͅf̴͇͜ ̸̡n̶͉o̴̡̞t̶̢̖h̵̥̝i̵̗n̸͍g̵̣̹n̸̫e̸͈͇s̴̯s̶̟̲,̴̼ ̶̲y̶̥o̴͉̫u̷̖̼ ̸͚f̶̖̩e̴ͅe̵̠̜l̷̤̹ ̴̰i̵̯t̵̮ ̴̧͎p̵̱u̴͉l̵͎̥s̴̨͍̖͉̤i̸̞̞ͅn̵̞̤g̸̖̘,̴̪̱̭̝ ̴͖c̶̮͔͕͜o̴̘̰̳̖n̸͔s̵̺̳t̷̗̩r̷̲̭̖͜i̵̩̜̯c̴̡̡̣̪ͅt̴̡͍͇ͅį̵̹͓̙n̶͇̼͎g̴̤̥̠̬.̸͚̘͎̤̼ ̸͖̦͔̗D̵̨̡̼̳r̷͕̗̣͖̜a̵̜̼g̶͙͍̫̤g̴̠̣̲ͅi̶̤̯̝̭͜n̵̨̬̠g̷̨̢͈͔̭ ̵̹̬̩̤̮d̵̡͍̺ͅͅȩ̷̳̣e̷̡̞̩p̴̝̲̳̪e̸̡̳r̴̖̯ͅ,̵̫̘̤̩ ̴̙̞͖̣̝f̶̢̡̼̼͇e̵̙͕̝̤e̷̗͈͕͍ḑ̶̜̭̝̮i̷̼͉̜̪ṉ̵͚ģ̶͍̼ ̴̱̟͙o̴̫n̵͚͉ ̸̡̦͉y̷̯o̶̢͕̣̲u̶̟͓—̷̢

01101000 01110101 01101110 01100111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101110 01110100 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110011 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100110 01101001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01100101 01110011

||SAVE//:01100110 01100101 01100001 01110010||

You stumble back with a desperate, raspy inhale, your chest rising and stuttering in motion. Curled inward, you watch the running sink, the shards of a broken cup crunching beneath your feet.

Some animals eat their prey whole, don't they?

You shudder, sinking to your knees, uncaring for the shattered ceramic. The sharpness sinks into your skin, but doesn't break. Like how play-dough cannot be hurt, because it's not meant to be. You repeatedly and rapidly attempt to restart your breathing process, but something is not responding. The respiratory structures and organs below your neck aren't working.

There's no air. Why are you so calm?

You try to wheeze for a breath. It doesn't work. If anything, it's complicating your work. You try harder. It resists harder. You cannot breathe, you cannot breathe— you drag your hands along the floor where you're lying on your knees, thinking you could crawl away to safety.

"Hey."

You hear a voice, saying your name. It puts a new knot in your throat.

"Are you there? I heard—"

The door opens to let in TK, their eyes searching and worried. When they spot you, they are quick to run to your side.

"Oh my God," they whisper, horrified. Their hands hover for a moment, snapping left and right like they can't decide what to do, and then settle behind you, clutching your shoulder and rubbing your back. "Hey—" Your name, spilling so easily out of their lips. "Come on, calm down, it's okay. You're okay. I— Follow my breathing, okay?"

You stare at them with dead eyes, and unwilling flesh. Nevertheless, they narrow their eyes determination, and begin making their chest move. It rises, rib cage flaring, diaphragm flattening, blood rushing, and you try to follow the rhythm.

A wheeze of air passes through.

"That's it," TK encourages, voice alike a sob, as if mirroring your utter anguish. "The muscles tighten, air comes in… And they soften, air goes out."

Their chest falls back, pulse calming down. You can hear it moving inside them, the friction of bone and ligaments, and the relief of air, blooming into blood.

Your lungs let go. Air passes through, out, and when you breathe next, it goes in as it's supposed to, without error or stubbornness.

TK relaxes. "Yeah. Just like that. You're a natural, aren't you? Passed with flying colors." There's a placid, but worn lull in the atmosphere. "Are you okay?"

Are you ever? You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice— to not crackle or to not burst into wails, no idea which. You've never felt such a wild, discomfiting mix of emotions before; things that have no right lingering close had suddenly tangled together, all without your consciousness noticing.

You imagined that this is how a newborn baby, just out of the womb, would feel. Overwhelmed. Frightened. Lonely, yet not. Out of control, but simultaneously in control for the first time of its existence.

You settled on 'overwhelmed.'

"Good," TK replied, rubbing your back a bit more. "Wait, let me get you some water—"

They stood up to get it, carefully side-stepping the ceramic shards. You should probably ask them not to, but you couldn't even muster the strength to lift your head, so you couldn't protest when TK held the cup tilted for you, matching the flow to the speed of your gulps.

"Dehydration worsens everything," they said. "I remember my mom nagging me about it. She never let me leave the house without drinking a tall glass of water, and the habit stuck. Once I got into college and had my first taste of freedom, I decided I'd cut myself some slack and relax on routine."

"Didn't work?"

TK snorted. "Nope."

They took the cup and washed it at the sink. You remembered that your job won't wait for you, and the customers won't either, so you attempt to stand up… only to flinch away at the sound of clattering shards, falling from your limbs.

TK turns to look at you, but you can only stare at the debris and your unscathed arms. The fragments aren't safe— their edges are sharp, glinting like chef's knives spread out before stove fire, but despite this, as you turn your forearms over and back, you can only see unmarred flesh, without any scarring visible.

What the fuck happened to me, you think.

You were fine this morning. There was no complicated existence to panic about. While you sat beside Peter and talked about nothing, everything felt as pleasant as can be. And here you were now, frozen in fear. Unable to finish even one waiter shift because you were too busy stressing about a defective body.

"Hey," TK calls out to you, "I think you should clock out now."

"Huh?" You can't. The shift's not over yet. And in the game, wasn't today exceptionally busy? You couldn't leave TK to handle it alone— well, technically you could, but you'd feel guilty. You don't want to get used to someone picking up the slack for you, because there was a very real chance that you'd snowball down that rabbit hole.

"Thanks, TK, but I don't wanna push my luck today," you said, kneeling down, and started to collect the shards by the handful. If they didn't hurt you, why not use it to your advantage?

"Jesus— don't just scoop them up! Use a broom at least, what if you get hurt?"

"It's fine, they aren't sharp."

TK didn't seem convinced, but let you clean the mess anyway, taking over dish washing duty instead. You were grateful for that. You didn't know what looking at the drain again would do, and you intended to avoid that fate for as long as you could. Collecting all the fragments on your apron, you dropped them into the trash bin and swept the remaining dust off, rushing out to collect orders and clean tables.

All day, you slaved away in the restaurant; cleaning, serving, dealing with idiots. While you worked, you did your best to hold yourself together, to keep your pieces in one place until the time when you could fall apart, a shattered body all over the couch.

Your lifeline, as it were, was the promise of a nice night out. As you mopped the floor tiles, tidied tables, and topped up coffees along the counter row, your mind went out to the fantasy of a quiet, chilly night, the smell of earth and grass under an empty space. Maybe after the date, Peter could take you to the park? You resolved to ask him about it… once he came back.

You checked the hour: four thirty. Fifteen minutes left until your shift ends. When was he going to arrive? At the very end? That would be incredibly suspicious, and for his sake, you prayed to a higher power that he'd refrain. You didn't mind, per se, but you were the type to just blurt things out without care for propriety, and the more obvious Peter got, the more effort required to keep your fucking mouth shut and not give it away.

Sighing, you threw away an abandoned receipt into the trashcan below the register, and wondered whether it was worth it to keep quiet. He'd catch on eventually, and you'd have to talk.

That's what's scaring you, isn't it?

"Alright," came TK's voice, "out with it. What's up?"

"What's up… with me?"

"Yeah." Obviously, was what followed naturally, but you had learnt that TK had a modicum of tact, so of course they would leave it out. "You've been working here for weeks now, but never have I ever seen you sigh in all our time together— not even when the boss threatened to sack us without severance pay."

Okay, scary. Original Y/N was double scary. Props to whoever they were. "It's… kinda complicated, and I don't think I can explain it without sounding like a maniac."

They grinned. "A dash of intrigue? No prob. Just know that you can tell me any time, any day, alright?"

You seriously didn't deserve this person's kindness. You just didn't. This was such a fact that it didn't even make your heart twinge. When it all crashed down and your life was in shambles, you would have to send them some sort of consolation gift, to thank them for their care.

"Thanks, TK. I wish I could tell you."

"Glad to hear that. By the way, could you check in with Hannah? I think she needs a line chef in the kitchen— I'll handle the customers."

They glance out the window panes, squinting behind their glasses. "Oh, geez. Guess who's knocking on our door? The evening rush."

You turn to look, only to freeze at the sight of a familiar silhouette, barely visible behind the reflection. Same height, same shirt, same gangly limbs, and when you shifted for a better view, you were able to glimpse the face under the hood: a pair of wide-open, bright blue eyes, and a smile curving horrifically.

Yup. That's him.

"Is it me, or… is that guy looking in?" TK asked, discomfited.

"Lookin' in, sorry. That's, uh, my boyfriend."

"Your—" Their head span around in a perfect hundred-eighty degree to goggle at you. "Your— what? This guy? Your—"

They looked back, as though checking whether or not they were hallucinating the creep factor, but no, TK, you thought, that's one-hundred percent natural. All bio creep. No preservatives or artificial coloring added, honest-to-god, bona-fide creep. I'm so fucking sorry to subject you to this.

"Your boyfriend," they said.

"Yeah."

"Just so we're clear, it's not the eighty-year-old man leaning on the cane, but the two-meter tree branch with fangs, right?"

"You're absolutely correct."

TK stared at you speechlessly, mouth moving without words, and you let your vision zoom out into distant lands, resolutely watching the yellow leak stain on the ceiling. Please, end the conversation. Right now.

"You know what," TK said at last. "This is not my problem… If he turns out to be a serial killer, let me know and I'll call the police for you."

"TK, please stop talking. I'm dying."

"You will once he drags you into an alleyway."

You know what they say: first impressions last forever. In Peter's case, it seems he's ardently devoted to push this rule to its worst potential, constantly disturbing the peace in hopes on garnering even the slightest bit of distrust. Why was he watching you creepily at the diner when he could just hang out by your apartment window? That was perfectly private! This is public!

You caught his gaze through the glass, and waved at him. Despite his eerie appearance, Peter broke into an angelic smile, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, and waved back. Seeing as you were paying attention, he began mouthing words: Hello. Something that looked like 'darling'. I'm here, followed by a pointed finger at his feet. Then, lifting his wrist and putting his index finger on it, miming a wristwatch. Okay?

Ah, was he trying to hurry you up? Was that a guilt-trip thing, or just an innocent 'Is your shift over?' You'll never know because you'll never ask, and even if you asked, he'd obviously answer with the latter just to gain brownie points. This wasn't the right time to be honest yet. For neither of you.

Before you could get tangled up in unnecessary thoughts, you sent him a thumbs-up and went back into the kitchens. Hannah did need help— there were simply too many orders at once, and Stephan just wasn't good enough of a multi-tasker to handle the extra load. You helped until the workload went back to normal, then clocked out, waving bye to TK as you went back to the entrance.

While you were gone, the sky had darkened, rain clouds gathering above to drizzle drop by drop. When you stepped a foot outside, you were immediately caught in a pair of arms, warmth swallowing you up.

"I missed you all day," your stalker whined, covering the top of your head with his chin. "How was it? Did you get fired?"

You relaxed into the heat, the embrace, releasing a frigid breath. Your head was silent for the first time since this morning, unburdened by worries or distractions. No clutter to push out… Nothing to sigh about.

Just Peter's scent, and his hug, and his excited, pleasant voice.

"Darling?" he asked concernedly. "Was it bad?"

You wrapped your arms around him in return. Mustering the energy to speak was impossible, so you sank further into the comfort, not even feeling the rain soaking your jacket.

"Heh, not that I'm not enjoying this… but are you okay? Do you need— Do we have to reschedule? I don't mind. We definitely can. Anything you want, okay? Just, will you please talk to me?" He sounded a bit shaky. "It's… ha ha, just, it's weird to not hear you when I chatter. You know?"

You force yourself to speak. "It was—"

s̨̺͇̝o̺̱̣ą̡̪͇͇p̨̥̹͎̹̳ ̨͓͕͜u͙̣̫p̥͍̻͙̠,͎ ̢̨̤̙̹͓s̝̼̝̲͜c̡͎̭̭͚r̡͎̗̞͙̥u̺b̧̢͙̬̠͜ ̪͚E̻̞͈̫̦͇X̙̦͓̱͙T̙͓̮R̙Ạ̭ ̧͓̩S̲̗̟͎͎Ǫ͇̲̲͖A̦͕͕͇P̗͇͜ ̘̝͖͇̞f̧͚̥̹o̖͔͈r̙͉̤̪ ͍G̟̺͖R̨͉̤̠̫͓E̲͚E̲̥E̟̯̹E͕̻͙̼̟ḚA̰̮̘͉͈̼S͙̞̳E̬̻ ̢̬͚̼̗̱01101111 01101100 01100100 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110111 01110011r͎̬̭ͅo̼̘̩̯ͅụn̗̱̹̝͈d̩,̨̪̦̭̝͕ ̧̤̜̱ͅw̡͈͖̬̙͕i̱͇d̨̠̯̙͍e̙-̰̳ọ̺̩͍͕̝p̦̦̘̙ȩ͍̹̳n̩͎ ̤͓͍m̢̡͚̣̫͍o̫̰u͙͚̞t̢̜͎̮ḩ̡̜ ͓̝̥̲F̙̘͇̠E̥̪̳͕E̤̲̫̗̯D̫͜ ͍̣M͔̩E̹͕̭ ̳T͍̗̜Ḥ͓͕̭ͅȨ̗̠ ͙W̻͈O̧R̨̙̱̥L̢̨̨̯͜D̥̲ ̞̤̖D̡̗͈̻ ̧̢͓̘D̹̗ ͍̫̙̮̝̬D̫̗͉͚͉ ͉̯̣̠̙T̨̪̮̙H̡̢͇̭͖̦E̘̲͖̜ ̦T͖̗̮H̺E̩̪̳ ̲̻͇̳͖̣T̲͖̞̺͈ͅH̦̠E̗̳ ̩͔̫̞͜I̯̙͓I͙͖̤̬I̧̬̲̱͕͕I̜I̧͕̭͚̭̳I̥I̬̝I͙̦̭̫̝͎I̡̘I̞̺͎̦̬I͎̻̻I̢̢̱̲̹I̡͎̘̰I̤̥I̻̺̞̖̖

d̷̢̢̟̏̂a̶̛̬̘͊͒̾ŗ̵̣̯͇̽͐͊̑k̷̤͎͙͙̎͑̑̌ ̶̻̞̞̻̏͊͑̏d̷̳͉̱̯̽́̆ạ̸̥͙̔͂̊̾r̷͇̿́k̶̥̼̲̐́̈̏ ̵̗̪̯̪̎͆d̴͍̤̞̓a̷̰̟͚͛̊͐r̶͇̋̈́͒k̸̺̻̰͎͆̿̄͠ ̸̡̹̊̀̾͗a̴͈͉̱̻̎̀d̵̝͈̄́̓ã̵̲̩͖r̵̪̞̗̓k̵̗̊͗̀̍ ̷̛̪̖͔̗͒̌ď̵͓̊̅̈́ǟ̴̡̜̈k̶̨̘͚̈̀́ȓ̴͓̽͑k̶̳̺̙̈́̐͛k̶̖͐ ̵̡̪̄͒́̄d̴͍̥́́ȃ̷̺ȓ̶̗k̶͎͊ ̴̯͕̀͑͠k̸͈̝̗̎̑̏f̷̠̳̭͉̍̒̀k̷̛͔̓̾k̵̞̃͋͝k̸̞̎̋k̸̝̀͛̓̕ ̶̟͚̩̈̀̇̀ḍ̸̙̫̣̋̕a̴̲̦͓͒r̵͙͑̂͗k̶̨̻̽̃ ̷̓͜d̶̢͍̳̔͌ã̴̧̬̠͖̉̈k̸̖̞̾͊̇͝r̵̲͔̼͝ ̷̘͚̀̒̿̕k̴̰͈͠d̴̜̭͇̙̐̂͋ã̵̤͔ṙ̷̯̭͂k̶͍̇̑̅̒ ̶̠̥̮̓͘d̵͈̖̃́̏̄á̷̳͔̲̏̈́̚r̶̦̋k̴̨͛ ̴͍͉̄̓d̴̯̓a̵̯̓͋̿ͅr̸̦̻̟̖̄̅̈́̄k̷̲̓̆ ̴̤̤̅d̴̢̖̀̀ͅã̷̡ͅk̷̢̢̥̬̒̿̆̽r̸̥̘͌̀͑͜ ̷̻̔͝W̴͙̱̬̮͒͋̏͝W̷̘͎͠W̸̖̺̃͌̇Ẅ̶̪͙͉́̈́́W̷̔́͋̀̀̈́̔͂̔̂̄̚͝͝͝W̵̍̓͛̂̒͘͠W̸͑̽̃̐̓̒̈́W̷͊̋͑̽̌̈̈́̀͗͊̈́̇́͘͠W̶̆̎̐̊̎́̈́̌̋̀̕̚W̵͌͆̃́̅̇͐̎̑͐͘Ŵ̸̛̀̈̈́͆̈́̎̆̒̀W̶̊̏̒̋̏̐̌̈́́̚W̸̉̋̅͑͆̍͘Ẁ̴͛̂͗̓͆̐͑͌͐͒̕W̶͝ and at the bottom of the drain, you stood, awaiting y̤̏̓̐̕̚͠o̘͆͝ú̢̞͚̲͈̟̲̅̾̄̓r͍̟̝̐̾̃ͅs̢͍̤͂́͝ḙ̰̆̓̿̾̕͝l̛̟͕̬̯̬̲͇̩f̩̻͚̫̽ in your own stomach /// when will you S̸̛̥T̵͖̚O̴̯͌P̸̪̅ ̸̫̀S̸͈͗T̵̲͆Ȯ̴̜P̶̪̑ ̷̲̐S̸̠͊T̷̖̊Õ̷̬P̷̤̉?̴͎͋ ̵̱̉?̸̳̎?̴̖́ fear consumes you, pushes you down its gullet, and you stand here wondering when did you die? M̸E̵E̴E̷E̶E̶ 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 E̵E̴E̸E̷E̶E̸E̶E̸E̸E̶E̵E̶E̶—

"—fine," you answer. You were stopped from lingering on it. You recognize it now. "I missed you too. All day."

"You did?" Peter asked. "Really? Missed me? When, how did that happen?"

"Do you want me to describe it like, a case report? Like an interrogation tape? 'Where were you last night, what was your purpose' style?"

"Why not?"

Well, there was it: why not? Maybe it'd make him happy.

"The first time," you started, burying your face into his shoulder. "I was taking orders, and this middle-aged lady came in and tried to ask for a second order on the house because she dropped the first one on the pavement. But in a really polite, aggravating way. You know how some rude people act well-mannered? I wanted to punt her into the curb."

"And then you thought about me?"

"Yeah. I wished you were there so I could get you a second order on my paycheck."

"…You mean, you weren't thinking of me because you wanted someone more reasonable, but because… actually, I don't know. Why did you think that?"

"Well," you murmured, "obviously, because I like you."

Suddenly craving contact, you removed your tired arms from around his waist and put them over his shoulders, around his neck. You had to stand on your tip-toes for that, but somehow, the position wasn't as taxing as it was in your before-life.

Luckily, Peter was there to support you. He crouched a little to reach your legs, then hauled you up under your thighs, carrying you on one bicep with no visible strain.

...Woah.

You were abruptly eye to eye with him— and better, you were privy to the tender little flush on his face, close enough to savor the sight without shame.

"So you'd— put up with me being an asshole just cause you… like me."

You averted your eyes. This closeness seemed to be a two-way street, unfortunately. "Not exactly 'put up with'. I imagined you there and thought, even if you were being a jerk, I'd give you a meal cause you'd look cute eating it."

Was that weird? Double standards existed for everyone--- people would have different thresholds for different people, right? You weren't abnormal in that regard. Were it anyone else, you'd be insulted, exasperated, impatient— with him, your priorities lay somewhere else. You'd have rather died than compensate that customer, but somehow, the image of him stuffing his face full warmed you head to toe.

Your mind flashed back to your dinner date last night. The glow of Peter's round cheeks, the happy sigh of relieved hunger, his languorous, steady heartbeat as it pulsed under your touch. A healthy, full heart. Flowing blood.

Uh, you thought, embarrassed for no reason. Let's not linger.

"You know what," you said. "This is mortifying. Let's talk about something else."

He made a cute little snort, then laughed with bared teeth, molars glinting in the street light. You could barely suppress the urge to smash your mouths together. How dare he smile like that? How dare he make you so happy, with only the movement of his face? You released the want through your breath, let it dissipate.

"Let's go to the van," Peter suggested. Without waiting for a reply, he started carrying you across the crosswalk, one hand gently braced on your hip.

"Peter? Peter! Oh God, I can walk, I can walk I can walk I can walk— let me down, people are gonna look!!"

He paid no heed to your desperate wails, merrily making his way down the road. What an asshole, what a bastard. Your heart was so warm, so squished, so warm.

#your boyfriend game #peter dunbar #yandere #yb #yb peter #your boyfriend #ybf #tw: yandere #yb fandom #yandere games #your boyfriend peter #ybgpeter #yb game #yb fanfic #your boyfriend fanfic #peter yb #peter king

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plorpl · 8 months

Text

On my second re-watch of the series. In full brainworm mode. Struck me how stupid it is that Wilson's office is next to House's instead of near the department he runs. Wrote this to smooth it over (and make myself sad).

~1000 words, gen, set post-series

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

“Do you remember… during the remodel?”

Wilson’s voice came low from a few feet away, barely audible over the sound of the highway just outside the window. They’d stopped riding late in the day, exhausted and cranky, eaten what they had left of their stash of granola bars and beef jerky for dinner, and flopped into beds without even washing off the grime from the road.

All signs pointed to falling asleep quickly, waking up in a better mood, leaving the squalor of this roadside motel for the squalor of the next. But neither of them were asleep two hours later. Wilson had started getting generalized chest pains at night, so bad he sometimes didn’t sleep; neither of them bothered to diagnose it, to explicate. It didn’t matter. They were three months into their trip, and they wouldn’t be able to keep the pace much longer.

House wet his lips and swallowed before answering. It was dry in Arizona. Go figure.

“What about the remodel?”

A brief pause, then, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you ask me questions while I’m asleep often?”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at that. Wilson was under the sheet and stiff comforter, shivering slightly. it was that kind of night, then.

“Wanna do drugs?”

It earned a smile and a nod. House sat up, rifled through his backpack, and rattled the bottle when he found it.

“You’re going to have to sit up.”

House watched him struggle a little. Wilson didn’t like being helped. He would take it when it was necessary, but before that point it tended to make him sour. They’d already bickered twenty times about the irony, so House didn’t bother making a sly remark.

He thumbed two pills out for each of them, and they swallowed them almost at the same time, House dry, Wilson with the help of a half-empty gatorade bottle on their shared nightstand. Wilson sat there for a few seconds, propped up on dingy pillows, hands clutched around his waist. His face was almost funny - clearly uncomfortable, but not as much as was called for. He looked like he’d smelled a fart, not like he'd been kept up for hours by the pains of a slow death. House wondered for the thousandth time if all that politeness and bravery and bluster was for his sake or Wilson's own.

House felt the vicodin hit his bloodstream, and his eyes slipped closed. When he opened them again, Wilson was watching him with that look of his. House’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“Well? What about the remodel?”

“You leaned on Cuddy so hard. Tormented her for weeks.”

It had been an interesting time - demolition, fresh paint on the walls, doctors packed into temporary buildings and loaned out to other hospitals. Cuddy was beside herself for three months straight, and House had done nothing to help the matter.

“She was expecting me to hire three people. I needed the space.”

Wilson shook his head. “I'm not talking about that part. Although your office size was ridiculous. Hennings almost quit over it.”

“Hack.”

Wilson smiled again, then started to push himself back down the bed gingerly. House just watched him, figuring he’d continue the conversation if he wanted to.

Wilson tucked the covers up to his chin, sighed happily, and said, “I know it’s probably lost on you at this point, but those things make me feel good all over.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“No, I mean all over. Even the sheets feel good. Like my skin is fuzzy.”

He was clearly a little loopy, but House knew what he meant. It would took quite a dose to get House to that point.

“It’s so nice to share hobbies.”

Wilson laughed, really laughed.

“Can you come over here?” Wilson motioned to the other side of his bed with his head only. “I think I need to lay on this side for a bit.”

He started turning slowly without waiting for a response. It was the kind of anodyne request that House had never stomached from anyone but Wilson, and sometimes not even him. Lately, though he always did. It didn’t sting anymore.

He stood, stretched, and limped around the foot of the bed, rolled onto it, over the covers. He settled on his back, one hand behind his head, watching Wilson’s forehead relax as the vicodin did its work.

Wilson shifted and shivered again, but somehow House didn’t think it was the pain anymore.

“I toured the oncology wing.” He spoke without opening his eyes. “Walked around my future office before the walls were put in. I remember, they put me between Greenbeck and Tom. I was mad about not getting the corner. But I didn’t say anything, of course. God forbid I actually ask for anything I want.” Wilson opened his eyes. “And then,” his voice broke, “I got to work on the first day back. Cuddy cut the ribbon, the whole shebang. I went up to my office... But it wasn’t there.”

House just watched him. It had been part of his deal with Cuddy. The primary stipulation, actually. He told her that Wilson was in on it, that he'd agreed to it, but that had been a lie. He had been too worried Wilson would veto it.

“I’ll never forget finding it,” he paused to smile, small and sad, “seeing my name on the door."

House breathed to say something, maybe sarcastic, make him laugh. Please, laugh again. He came up empty.

Wilson wet his lips and said, “I remember standing there, thinking - thinking that this might be the clearest I would ever hear it from you... Hear that you want me around. That you need me. Not for a favor. Not for a prescription, for distraction, for a laugh. Just for me, to be near to you.”

House breathed and watched his eyes through the dark - soft at the edges, earnest, alive.

“This is what you say to me when I’m asleep? Kinda fruity.”

And it did get him a laugh. A good one. House smiled back.

Wilson managed to free his arm from the covers. He laid a light hand on House’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. He got this way when he was high - tactile and sentimental. Or maybe it was the dying. Or maybe he'd always been this way, and always held it back.

House turned onto his side, facing him, ran a reciprocating hand up and down Wilson’s arm in a slow circuit. Wilson closed his eyes to the feeling.

“It’s actions,” Wilson breathed. “It’s actions that matter.”

They fell asleep like that, and woke early, and never talked about work again.

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

My other Hilson fic, also written in a fugue state

#hilson #my fics #headcanon #greg house #james wilson #house md #hate crimes md #fan fic #ficlet #fanfic #fan fiction

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wyyvernn · 1 year

Text

A/n: whoops seems my hand slipped- also look at this smug prick i love him

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Haytham Kenway x Reader

Summary: One passionate kiss in the heat of the moment between you and your Grand Master leads him to ponder on the authenticity of it for the rest of the night.

It was all a blur really, an unexpected turn of events.

Haytham Kenway doesn't run with an entire unit of Redcoats after him. He's not reckless enough to strike without thought, to command his own to seek out trouble where it might get them killed.

Never would he retreat into an alleyway, accomplice dragging him along as they shove him into the safety of the shadows.

Shouting is heard all throughout the streets, like a pack of dogs barking and chasing after a cat. There's confusion spread everywhere among civilians who appear terrified, their clothes dull beneath the vivid reds frantically searching through the crowd.

Your lips stretch out into a grin, and your eyes gleam with mischief at the chaos unfolding despite your huffing. Your Grand Master on the other hand seethes in silence, partly because you caused the trouble that you two were in now, but also because he allowed it to happen.

Some of the soldiers draw near the entrance of the alleyway, clutching their muskets to their chests as they stalk towards the gap with suspicion. You can only think of one thing that would have them turning away but you're not sure Haytham would like it.

Still, it's the difference between being thrown in a cell or suffering minor embarrassment and getting back to the tavern.

Haytham is about to open his mouth until you plant your palms against his chest, shove his back against the brick wall and fix your lips over his. You hear the stiffled groan in his throat, feel the way his muscles turn stiff beneath your fingers, notice how his anger simmers into uncertainty, hesitation and then finally, acceptance.

You feel his hands take your waist, inching to go lower but he keeps them firm and fixed - a true gentleman. You smile a little at his cooperation, grabbing his hat from his head so you can wrap your arms around his neck a little better, your bodies taut and compact against each other.

The both of you try to make it like a passionate moment between two lovers instead of a desperate attempt to scare off the apprehending soldiers but it works regardless.

One curious Redcoat sticks his head into the alleyway from the corner. There's a moment where his eyes try to adjust to the scene before him, of you having your Grand Master against the wall, and him rubbing his palms up and down your waist in a continuous motion.

The Redcoat shakes his head and mutters something beneath his breath that you manage to catch before he leaves.

"Bloody lovers."

He signals his fellow soldiers that it's nothing interesting before they all march off. More sounds of shouting and boots hitting the pavement rotate around the city before they disappear into the distance.

You withdraw from Haytham, huffing once more as he does the same. You ignore the way he looks at you with so much emotion behind his eyes, one part bewilderment, another intrigue and something else like...disappointment.

"We should probably get back to the Green Dragon," you tell him and he nods in approval.

"Indeed."

He sits at his desk now, fingers occupied with the amulet and his mind boggled with the events prior that took place in the city.

He ponders the brief moment, recalling how soft your lips were, how perfect you fit into his embrace. Then he shakes his head of the thought, doubts that there was something more than a distraction in that kiss.

It was meaningless, he thinks in his mind. It was nothing but...he wants it to be something.

He is interrupted when you disturb him. You come unannounced, leaning against his doorframe like you own it, but you've done that so many times at this point Haytham thinks you already do.

"Need you to come down soon, Sir - dinner is nearly ready."

Haytham nods once and watches you go to leave, but his voice has you pausing in your step, pulling you back to face him.

"A moment, if you will."

That would usually be meant as an order from your Grand Master, his authority seeping into his voice and cutting sharply through the air. Except, this time it sounds more like a genuine request. His face is calm, eyes sincere and gentle.

Even you can see how quiet and different he's been since you both made it back to the tavern.

Without questioning him, your hands clutch the backrest of a chair facing him and drag it by your side to sit on.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering about what happened before, in the city..."

You sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Okay, yes I get it. You're still mad that I lead a group of Redcoats after us-"

"After that."

To be honest he wasn't really angry about your reckless actions anymore. His fingers no longer fiddled with the amulet, instead they're now closed into a loose fist on his desk. Haytham gazes at you with nothing but seriousness, expression intense but not intimidating.

You try to refuse the memories suddenly flooding through your mind, of the chase, of the alleyway, and...the kiss, how his lips were so tantalising on your skin and his grip so firm on your waist.

You want to brush it off as nothing, in fact you did when you arrived back at the tavern. But with how intently he's looking at you now, with how he's expecting you to give an explanation, you just can't pass it off as a distraction.

It wasn't just nothing, you realise. You don't want it to be. You didn't think that it would haunt him all this time.

Despite his obvious feelings, you decided to approach him safely.

"You mean the kiss?" Your voice trails off softly, and you curse yourself for your sudden lack of confidence.

He nods simply in response. Your Grand Master has never liked wasting time, and you always admired that particular trait about him but when in the direct face of it, you've never felt so confronted.

"What did it mean to you? And please, no lies."

"What did you want it to mean, sir?" you counter.

You watch him raise his brow but it's not the first time you've answered him in such a way.

He says nothing but continues to stare, the emotion behind his eyes unreadable but so full of racing thoughts and silent confessions.

The amulet in his fist is placed alongside his hat in favour of taking your hands instead. The action startles you, almost prompting you to recoil if it weren't for how confident his grip was.

"Are you comfortable with this?"

Your mouth, although slightly agape, responds with a quiet yes.

His grey eyes flicker over your face, reading your body language and confirming your answer, then they drop down to your lips where they linger for a moment, giving you time to pull away.

But when you don't, his lips gently close the distance, warmth and an unexpected affection meet your skin.

The sounds from the tavern are drowned out, nothing but muffled noise in your ears as Haytham slides his free hand up to tilt your jaw. Both of you sink in peaceful bliss but as he withdraws, you miss the feeling immediately, and you're left with his thumb stroking your bottom lip with admiration.

"I'd like to have you closer by my side from now on," he whispers. It sounds like a demand, but you know it's more of a plea.

"Closer than I already am?" You reply, a teasing smile growing as you fiddle with one of his coat buttons, "I don't know how much closer I could be beyond your personal bodyguard or in this moment."

You catch a glimpse of a reciprocated playfulness in his behaviour, slight but most definitely there.

"Then how about as something more?"

"Why, do you mean to court me, Grand Master?" You respond, still playing with his coat.

As Haytham's face nears again, his voice becomes sincere.

"If you would have me."

#haytham x reader #haytham kenway x reader #assassin's creed iii #assassins creed #assassins creed 3 #haytham kenway

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kaiijo · 2 years

Note

hello, may I please request a short scenario for silver (twst) and gn! reader with them dancing, like aurora and prince Phillip did in the woods?

bonus points if reader takes prince Philip's place and silver takes aurora's. he'd look majestic in either position bit I yearn.

I yearn to guide him through the dance...

many thanks!

dancing in the woods with silver

pairing: silver x reader notes: gn! reader, i really love this request <3

Silver heaved out a heavy sigh, leaning against one of the trees that lined the clearing he was in. With Malleus’s coronation approaching, he had been training with Sebek to learn the traditional waltz of Briar Valley. When he had performed the moves, Lilia had cocked his head and said, “You’ve got all the right steps but it’s very… stiff. You’re not marching into battle.”

Bowing his head, Silver had replied, “Then I’ll practice until I can move as gracefully as Malleus, Father.” While Lilia concentrated on getting Sebek to actually even do the steps without getting distracted by Malleus, Silver had taken the time to slip out for some private dancing. The woods comforted him, though he underestimated just how hard it would be to dance without a partner.

He shook his head at himself. He wouldn’t embarrass Malleus on his big day with his subpar dancing but the only partners readily on hand were the ones in the castle… He pushed off the tree and resumed the proper stance. Maybe one more time would do the trick?

One, two, three… one, two, three…

From somewhere among the trees, Silver heard a small laugh. Straightening and reaching for his discarded sword, he readied himself for whatever would pop out of the woods. “Who goes there?”

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you!” Bashfully, you emerged from behind a tree.

“Were you laughing at me?”

“No? Maybe…” You backtracked quickly when you saw his shoulders slump slightly. “It’s not you, per se! It’s just… your dancing is very… mechanical, I guess is the right word.”

Silver sighed again, “I’ve been working on it.”

“I know.”

He startled. “How long have you been watching?”

“Since the last practice.” You added, “I promise I’m not stalking you or anything! I was sent to pick berries for a pie for the prince’s coronation feast.”

“You work in the castle?”

You nodded, puffing up your chest proudly. “I’m one of the bakers.” You stared at him for a second more before asking, “Would you like me to help you with the waltz? I may not be a dance instructor, but I can certainly show you how to make the movements more fluid.”

Silver nodded silently and you dropped your basket of berries, walking toward him. “Is it alright if I lead?” He nodded again and you took his hand in your own, placing the other on his waist. You ran through it once, saying, “You can’t think too hard about it. Dance is more about feeling than thought.”

“How should I go about that?”

“Focus more on what you’re feeling and do what comes naturally. You clearly have the steps down.”

You started once more, and this time, Silver’s motions were looser, more graceful and flowing. You brought him around the outer edges of the clearing, spinning him under your arm to the imaginary music. You studied him in the fading afternoon sun. He was ethereally beautiful with his pearly silver hair and his kaleidoscopic eyes, undoubtedly highborn. He was solid and steady and warm under your fingers, posture immaculate. There was something strikingly familiar about him but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

Each twist and turn you two took had your heart racing, and as he relaxed, you subtly shifted to following his movements. When the dance came to an end, you parted, slightly breathless, with a grin. “That was much better! You’re a fast learner.”

“Thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help,” Silver replied, bowing gratefully to you. He checked his watch and said, “I have to get going, but thank you again. I’m in your debt.”

You went to pick up your basket, turning suddenly and calling to Silver’s retreating figure, “I never caught your name!”

“Oh!” He faced you again and with a bow, he said, “I’m Silver, one of Prince Malleus’s personal guards.”

You nearly dropped your basket of berries, breath catching in your throat. That’s why he looked so familiar. You had caught glimpses of him in the castle, walking with Lilia Vanrouge and his fellow guardsman, Sebek Zigvolt, and, of course, the prince himself. Your face heated, and before you could drop into your own bow or stutter out an apology (though you didn’t know for what), he said, “I hope we can meet again soon.” Then, with a practiced, sharp turn, he headed back for the castle.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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undyingghoul · 1 year

Text

Materialized

Read part one, Faded, here

It was common knowledge that Ghouls and Ghoulettes could fade if they weren't loved. No one knew what happened to those who faded or if they ever came back. Dewdrop went through it all and came back to tell the tale- and came back to tell the tale with a new Ghoul.

“Dewdrop…” The fire Ghoul groaned. His body felt stiff and ached terribly, every move he made sent sharp pains through him. “Dewdroooop…” He groaned again. “Dewdrop! Wake up!” Dewdrop’s eyes flew open and his body with them, breathing heavily and knocking heads with someone. “Ow! You little shit that was my head!” Dewdrop let his vision adjust before looking around and his eyes landed on the form of the Dark Lord himself rubbing his head where Dewdrop hit him. “In my defense, you scared the shit out of me!” Dewdrop fired back before Lucifer shook his head and looked down at the Ghoul. “Still got your fire I see,” He commented before offering a hand to Dewdrop to help him up. Dewdrop took it and Lucifer hauled him to his feet before letting go of his hand. “I didn’t realize when we faded we came to Hell…” The fire Ghoul thought aloud as he looked around, realizing that this wasn’t exactly the Hell he knew. “In a sense, yes, it’s Hell,” Lucifer started before motioning for Dewdrop to follow him as he started to walk. Dewdrop followed. “You see, when a Ghoul fades they either come to where you are now or are sent back to the pits of Hell. It entirely depends on if the Ghoul has a chance yet,” He explained and Dewdrop nodded, the question of what his lord meant by chance eating at him. “Ghouls either have a chance to love still or don’t and depending on that factor. If they can’t love anymore, they’re sent to the pits of Hell to burn for infinity. If they can love still, they get sent to here–Withering Heights.” Dewdrop looked ahead and was taken aback by how earthly Withering Heights looked. It had trees and other plants, it had buildings, and it even somehow had water–which shocked Dewdrop because it was Hell, since when was there water in Hell? “All the Ghouls who’ve faded and can still love come here to find love. Most do not, they only make friends but still love those friends as if they were a partner. Even with the fact that should they ever find their love they can get sent back up top with their partner many don’t find love.” Dewdrop came to a stop and looked back at Lucifer. “Wait- We can get sent back up top?” He asked and Lucifer stopped, turned, and nodded. “Yes, there’s no reason mates can’t be sent back up top once they’ve found each other. Together they can achieve great things for the Ghost project and help each other and their fellow Ghouls. Call it a reward, yeah?” Lucifer explained before smiling a toothy grin. Dewdrop let the information sink in and followed after the Dark Lord as he continued on into Withering Heights. “Many other Ghouls have come here as well, some you may even know perhaps. I don’t really pay attention to which of you gets summoned so I can’t confirm for sure. However, Dewdrop, I think there may be one Ghoul who you’ll like. She’s a fire Ghoul like you and unlike anything you’ve seen.” Dewdrop laughed a bit. “I’ve seen it all, Luci, I promise you that,” He responded and Lucifer hummed before pulling a whistle out of thin air and blowing into it. When Dewdrop didn’t hear anything he rolled his eyes. “Really? That whistle doesn’t even work, Luce,” He scoffed. “Not to you, Dewdrop.” Before he could question anything his eyes caught sight of a wolf–a werewolf–stalking toward them calmly. “There’s my beautiful girl,” Lucifer cooed with his hands out as the wolf came to stop before them and rest their head in his hands. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet, Wolfie,” Lucifer said and glanced at Dewdrop. Dewdrop gulped when the werewolf named Wolfie looked at him. Before his very own eyes, he watched as the werewolf shifted back into their demon form and was shocked by just how similar they looked demon form-wise.

“Dewdrop, this is Wolfie. Wolfie, this is Dewdrop,” Wolfie clicked a few times before sticking her hand out. “You must be the other fire Ghoul Lucifer won’t shut up about. It’s nice to finally meet you. Wish it were better reasons, though.” Dewdrop gawked at Wolfie. The way she spoke about their Dark Lord was nothing he’d ever heard before and had he tried it he knew he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Dewdrop took Wolfie’s hand and shook it, blinking twice. Lucifer hummed and snapped his fingers. “I gotta run, but you two have fun, yeah?” He said before waving and walking away before either of them could say anything. Once he was away from them he sighed and let his shoulders fall, stretching out his body from having been standing so straight. “Good mighty…” He groaned as he opened a portal and walked into his palace, taking his seat on his throne and clicking his claws against the wood armrest. “Malico,” Lucifer barked and in an instant, a demon was in front of the Dark Lord and awaiting his command. “Yes, my Lord?” “Bring me the mirror, my darling. I’ve got things to check up on up top.” Malico nodded quickly and ran off, gone for a few seconds and returning with a big mirror that was nearly the entire size of them. Lucifer took the mirror from them. “Thank you, love, you are dismissed.” Malico nodded and ran off again while Lucifer held the mirror in one hand and pressed the other to the glass of the mirror. “Show me the Ministry, Almight,” He said gently, and the mirror’s glass swirled with colors before depicting the Ministry Dewdrop had just come from. “Show me the Ghouls and Ghoulettes, Almight.” The mirror flashed before it showed the remaining Ghouls and Ghoulettes, all mourning the loss of Dewdrop. Lucifer hummed and moved his hand a bit, picking up what everyone was saying instead of just seeing what they were doing. “I can’t believe we failed him…” Rain said as he wiped his eyes, yet the tears kept flowing. “Do you think he can hear us or see us somehow?” Swiss asked and Mountain shrugged. “No one knows, Swiss. Those who’ve faded have never returned or were seen again…” Cirrus sighed, holding the note from Dewdrop and letting Sunshine take it from her and read it with Aether. “I just… Can’t believe he’s gone,” Cumulus wept, pulling her shirt up to dry her eyes. The group all looked at the letter that had now made it into Mountain’s hands as he read it. He let his hands fall onto his lap before one hand came up to his eyes to try and get rid of the tears and when everyone realized Mountain was crying everyone burst into sobs and wails. Lucifer felt his heart ache at the sight of this. “I hope this works for him…” The Dark Lord said before setting the mirror to the side and sighing. “I really, really do.” *.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.* Time wasn’t a thing in Hell, no one knew how long they’d been down there besides Lucifer and no one cared either. Dewdrop didn’t care at least. He’d actually been having a great time with Wolfie, they’d hit it off extremely well once Lucifer left them alone to do what they please. The pair were inseparable and anyone who even dared to try got growled at or snarled at, someone even got bitten by Wolfie once and got a nice talking to by Lucifer himself after the fact. Dewdrop and Wolfie were just meant to be and they planned to be together for as long as they could.

“Mmm… Hey, wildfire?” Wolfie asked gently as she lay on top of Dewdrop in bed. “Yes?” Dewdrop answered and Wolfie sat up to straddle him. “I’ve been thinking…” She started, tail flicking side to side behind anxiously as her hands started to shake rapidly. One thing Dewdrop learned about Wolfie is that she had Autism, a trait she had kept from her past life after she had died and come to Hell. Dewdrop had been taught how to handle her by Wolfie herself and knew how to calm her down or help her out. “Hey, look at me, baby,” Dewdrop cooed gently and offered his hands to Wolfie. She took them quickly and looked into Dewdrop’s eyes. “You can tell me anything, I mean anything,” Dewdrop reassured her and Wolfie nodded, letting go of his hands and moving her hair to the side as the straps of the tank top she wore slid off her left shoulder. Dewdrop watched her and waited for her to speak. “It’s been a little while now since we’ve been together and…” She trailed off and looked away. “And?” Dewdrop pressed gently. “I think it’s time to make it official.” Dewdrop looked at Wolfie silently for a few moments and Wolfie turned her head to look back at him. Wolfie expected Dewdrop to be mad, upset, maybe even annoyed, but she didn’t expect to see Dewdrop’s soft, loving look she had so rarely seen yet come to love. “You… You mean it, firelight?” Dewdrop whispered and Wolfie nodded firmly. Dewdrop sat up completely, never breaking eye contact with Wolfie. “You’d- You’d let me do that?” He asked more loudly this time and Wolfie only nodded firmly again. Dewdrop felt tears prick his eyes and he smiled as one rolled down his cheek. Wolfie titled her head to the right and back, exposing herself to Dewdrop, and hummed when she felt a hand come up to hold her throat gently. Dewdrop closed the gap and hesitated for a few moments, hovering over the spot between her neck and shoulder for a few seconds too long. “It’s ok, Dewdrop. Claim me, it’s ok.” Dewdrop sucked in a breath and exhaled as he bit down hard in the space, feeling Wolfie flinch beneath him and hearing her hiss gently as something burned into her skin. Wolfie’s hand came up to Dewdrop’s throat and he felt a dull burn against his skin, growling softly at the sensation. He released Wolfie and pulled his head back a small bit, smoothing his tongue over the wound to soothe it. Wolfie let her hand fall away from Dewdrop’s throat, surprised she could even get her hand around his throat, and ran her fingers over the bite mark gently. She let her hand move to her throat, feeling around until she touched a sensitive spot on her pulse where a flame was now burned into her skin. Dewdrop copied her and felt his throat in the same spot, feeling a paw print on his pulse and smiling. “I’m yours now, Dewdrop,” Wolfie said with a smile, straightening her head and pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Dewdrop purred loudly and hugged Wolfie tightly, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you, my sweet flame… Thank you.” *.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.* Lucifer hugged Dewdrop and Wolfie tightly as a portal swirled before them. “Never have I had the pleasure of seeing two Ghouls get to go back to the surface because they found love. You two idiots are making history down here and will be making history up there, too,” The Dark Lord said as he clasped his hands together. “We’ve only got you to thank, Luce. Had it not been for you we wouldn’t be together–this wouldn’t be happening,” Wolfie said as she wrapped an arm around Dewdrop’s shoulders and smiled.

Lucifer pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with a claw and flick it away. “They grow up so fast…” He said in a high-pitched voice with such sincerity you’d think he was serious. Wolfie and Dewdrop knew better and only laughed, Lucifer laughing with them. “In all seriousness now, I will miss you knuckleheads. Hell truly won’t be the same without you two trying to kill someone because they dared to separate you two,” He said with a warm smile, looking at the portal and then back at them. “You know how to reach me if you two need me. Go on, now. Get back to your original cause.” Wolfie gave one last hug to Lucifer before she was through the portal, leaving just Dewdrop to go back through. “I’m proud of you, Dewdrop. Go live with your mate. You’ve earned it,” Lucifer reassured him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and patting his back. “Thank you, Lucifer. For everything,” Dewdrop said, waving and stepping through and hearing the portal shut behind him. Dewdrop looked at the Abbey and smoothed out his clothes, adjusting his helmet and looking at Wolfie who also seemed to be having a hard time. “We’re ok, firelight. We’ve got this,” Dewdrop said as he took her hand in his and lead them through the gates and into the Ministry he had so dearly missed. Wolfie followed behind him, wearing the same clothing and helmet he had on. He pushed out waves of his scent, hoping to reach the others as he wound his way through the halls and to the dens. Standing in front of the doors that lead to the dens he gave Wolfie’s hand a squeeze as he looked at her. “Are you ready?” He asked gently and she nodded a bit. “They’re going to love you. If they could tolerate me you will do just fine,” He reassured and opened the doors to the dens, hearing the lively chatter and making his way in with Wolfie. He shut the door behind him and listened to the talking stop abruptly. Dewdrop held Wolfie’s hand tightly and carefully made his way into the main area, only letting go of her hand to take his helmet off and hold it against his side with his arm. Once his helmet was off and tucked against him he held Wolfie’s hand again Wolfie looked at Dewdrop and followed the action, taking her helmet off with one hand and holding it. Dewdrop smiled proudly and held his head high. “I live again, bitches,” He growled playfully and everyone didn’t know how to react. “Dewdrop…?” Rain croaked. Dewdrop nodded. “It’s me, Rain,” He said softly and smiled warmly. In an instant, everyone had latched onto Dewdrop in a tight hug as they all sobbed while Wolfie stood silently and watched with a smile. “They do love you, wildfire,” She said softly and looked down with a blush when all eyes focused on her. Dewdrop shimmied his way out and held Wolfie close, pressing a kiss to her cheek and exposing his neck in a way that revealed the bite Wolfie had left him–her claim on him. “Dewdrop- You-” Dewdrop laughed, cutting Swiss off and nodding. “There’s hope for some of those who have faded after all. Mine is in this Ghoul right here,” He cooed, nuzzling against Wolfie who melted into his touch and growled happily. “You’ve got questions, I know it, and I’d be more than happy to answer them. I can tell you all how I met Wolfie, even, because that is definitely part of it,” Dewdrop purred and pressed a kiss to Wolfie’s cheek, making her tail wag happily with the spade of it swinging side to side carelessly. Dewdrop rumbled happily, not caring if everyone could see the display of affection. He was happy, because of Wolfie, and he was going to show it. Dewdrop let everyone bring him and Wolfie to the couch and the questions started quickly. He answered them all and let Wolfie help him answer them too, not wanting her to feel left out. The more he talked and the more he answered questions the more his tail thumped against the couch happily. He had faded and come back from it, now with a loyal mate who’d always be with him for infinity. He was content, and now? Now he was happy. Truly, really happy. And Satanas, did he miss that feeling so fucking much.

#nameless ghoul dewdrop #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #ghost band #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

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asterjennifer · 2 years

Text

Read right through

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: SE Saeran x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: X

Word count: 2633

Summary: Shielding someone from all the bad things might sound like an act of love.

But more often than not; it causes misunderstandings in a relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He peered over with the ever so slightly awareness swimming inside his eyes, almost calmly clashing against the surface in which your reflection owned a blueish touch.

"Did you ever lie to me before?" Had been the question, hanging in the room which was more than just a small shelter in moments of insecurity. It became one of the few places that could be shared without a second thought of uncomfortable silence filling it out. Usually when it happened it's nothing but recovering peace for which you both had to work hard for after seeing each other's faces again.

Your eyes spotted a hint of tension when going back and forth at him, still standing there as if nothing had happened. You're familiar with the thoughts that caused his shoulders to become stiff, when the cream-colored sweater's close to slip off his thin arms because of it. You pressed your lips into a thin line, referring from sighing.

It wasn't the first time he wondered about you lying into his face and it certainly wouldn't be the last time, either. The nasty habit of doubting good parts of life providing light often weren't just a passing sentiment for him, they never left unless he's inside a completely different world.

Sometimes you questioned if he's ever going to be okay, regardless what others offered to him or how many times everyone reached their hands out for him to take hold of. His pride, the guilt that buried most of it kept him from accepting. There were days he acted as if it's his last one in which not a thing mattered anymore, these were one of the scariest. But he also sometimes clung so hardly onto the little he did have within reach.

And today seemed to be one of the frightened days for him. Coming around with that question like he'd exploded if not mentioning his worries out loud. You placed down the cup softly, crossing your arms over your lap while checking the every, pretty inch of his pale face. "Everyone lies. You know that.."

Like it's unexpected, his back straightened. It hurt every time this conversation bubbled up and not a second's missed on how much the answer made him tense further.

His face stayed the same unreadable sight you've come to understand whenever it's close to break apart, to know that wasn't very much to his happiness. He once confessed how you, being able to see through his behavior, made him feel vulnerable after such a long period of time. How it reminded him of his mother having the ability to tell he's about to cry. Or when Rika used his tears for her advantage and pushed him harder for her own goals. Back then he'd said he despised how your care brought the pain back to life.

Nobody judged him for the hurtful truth that's so difficult to face, yet he's going in circles that apparently had no intention of releasing him in the near future. "What did you lie to me about?"

He tried sounding grounded, but the light quaver covering his tone of voice revealed it's the opposite. Otherwise he would've not dodged your gaze by studying the pattern of the floor instead. You checked your memories thoughtfully, gladly taking all the necessary steps back. "About how I feel at times." You breathed, expecting him to bust for hiding such importance away.

To your surprise, he only placed his hand onto his arm. "I figured that already," He didn't sound shocked at all. "I know you would be the type to do that."

"So you're not mad?" You became curious, tilting your head more to the side as some hair rushed over your shoulder. You wouldn't have noticed if Saeran had not followed the motion with the deep ocean his eyes reminded you of. "I said I know, not that it's okay." The stricter tone made you fumble with the tips of your fingers.

As your temperature increased, you imitated his doing and stared down at the ground. "I do it when I don't want you to worry about me.." Your voice drifted off, how come the silence that's normally there to relax you both now owned a murdering aura? It didn't seem fair and let you break your head if he's thinking the same. "Yeah. Very helpful when you want me to be honest about how I'm doing." The sarcasm pierced through your heart.

He's right, you knew that truth's based on reciprocity. "I'm sorry," The frown covering your features deepened by the apology barely leaving your lips. "I'm scared that I add to the list of your problems to deal with. I don't want that." You now gave the heavy sigh a pass.

"I'm not as fragile as you display me, (N)." He shot back immediately, out of the corner of your eye he looked even more tense. "You think I can't handle taking care of you..?"

These words hurt because there were moments that let you believe them, despite him being a very dear friend. It's unfair towards him and you felt ashamed for the treatment you put him under. He's just so easily thrown off track that it forced you from time to time. The answer disguised as quiet made Saeran clench his jaw, beautiful eyes hidden underneath the red strands of hair you loved to watch shimmer whenever the sun's shining down at his shape.

He clenched a fist until his knuckles turned white. "I look like a poor, little child you need to pamper to you, don't I." He exhaled sharp. "Why do you think I can't be good enough to- to be a person that can hold you when being down? Why is it only Saeyoung you tell how you really feel?" You lowered your face into both palms, not wanting to see the tears that formed in his eyes.

You could hear them clearly when calling you out, that's more than enough to deal with. "I'm no kid, (N).. I don't wanna be that kind of person to you." He stopped himself afterwards.

This was one of those days and when realizing it's going worse than normally, all you wanted was to vanish. He wasn't a child; you had the tendency to treat him gently. You're uncertain how well he'd understand that constant fear of turning into another bad memory for him. That suddenly he's obligated to push aside his already delicate self-care just to assist you with what were minor matters in comparison.

The fear that he gets suffocated once you're openly expressing bad emotions, no matter what caused them. You didn't trust life in this regard to simply work out for the best. Saeran had endless issues to work through which cost a lot of energy from the start. Laying this burden into his hands when they're filled to the brim seemed like a bad idea.

"Saeyoung isn't the only fucking man in this household." You hoped the venom's directed at you and not his twin brother.

Saeran dug his nails into his sweater, many wrinkles appeared as his half-lidded eyes found the photo standing on the nightstand beside your bed. The three of you on vacation last summer; you both liked that picture in particular. That's why you printed it two times for each other to place it in your own walls. Right now, however, it made his chest tight harder than before. "I'm fucked up, but I'm not too weak to be there for you."

"Unless you don't even want me to," He added way too casually. "Guess then I can clarify all I want. It's useless trying if so." As if he had already come to terms with it like it's a fact and you almost snapped at him to stop. He didn't understand the difference in protecting and avoiding feelings, you had no clue how to explain it though.

As your lower lip started trembling, you bit down until tasting the iron on your tongue. Saeran watched you hug yourself, not a single word there for you to ease the situation with. You weren't sure how well he's able to take your own anxiety. You're a human, too.

Telling him could ruin the hard work you've put in for months, seeing that crumble down by a single action sounded similar to a nightmare. "I don't see you as a child, Saeran." Was all you came up with. And he didn't sound satisfied by that little bit alone. "Then why the fuck are you treating me like one.. Is this another lie to keep things away from my knowledge?" How's it that easy for him to crush the performance? The lump inside your throat became uncomfortable.

"I trust you," You didn't intent to be louder, yet this growing frustration was horrible. "I do, okay? It's-" You lifted your head, meeting a pair of confused albeit pained eyes which sent a wave of guilt through your veins. "I trust you with myself more than anyone else in the world. But there are things that can't be taken care of for now."

His tension slowly slacked down and for once you couldn't tell if that's a good sign. Saeran's brows frowned as well, shaking his head unconsciously. "What do you mean "for now"? How long will you run to my brother then?" His arm lashed out to show that Saeyoung's door was closed for the time being. He's out with some old friends at a gamer convention. Your nerves tingled in your every limb; it wouldn't take any longer before he's busting through the roof.

Your mouth opened without a noise leaving for a couple times. "This is nothing to worry about. It's just little things I need to vent and complain about, you're not missing anything." You tried, taken aback by the sudden anger that rushed over his face. "Of course I'm missing stuff!! I miss how you're truly feeling! How can that not be important!?"

"It isn't, Saeran.. I swear..! They get forgotten a day or two after." He turned away completely and it made the panic inside your chest hammer against your ribcage. Why was he so stubborn about insignificant facts? You couldn't comprehend the desperation for something that had no meaning in the long run, that only made the bond you shared harder to maintain. You're seeking his comfort and to be the person showing him a safe space without a need to worry.

Yet this wasn't going anywhere near what you've been trying to create since day one, it's shattering some of your views on your past that involved Saeran. "If you don't want me the fuck around then just say that." The detachment brought hot tears to your eyes. It's the first time he showed how he interpret your carrying when it came to hide tiny secrets away.

"I'm sick of getting played and get told what's right and wrong for me!" He pressed one hand over his heart, flashing a darkened look at you. "I only want to make this easier for you.." You shrugged your shoulders when drowning in helplessness.

Saeran clicked his tongue behind his teeth by that and it's not what you prayed he'd do. "Well you're fucking it up." He stated, narrowing his gaze. "You know what? I don't care.. Just go to Saeyoung with everything from now on. I'm not a damn doll you can play however you want." He threw his hand, hissing through gritted teeth at you for the first time. "Either you treat me like a normal person or you stay out of my life.."

"I'm sure that won't be a hard thing to do for you." You stood up from the bed while he turned on his heels, absolutely lost in the thought of him actually thinking you're playing him. Did he think like that before? Had that been the reason for him withdrawing at some days?

Ignoring the tears that spilled out, you gathered what's left of your voice. "I- I'm not doing that! The last thing I want to be is another bother in y-your life, Saeran! So I think- That's why I don't want you to deal with this." He caught your hand away after getting a grip on his sweater. "Bother..?" He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, he then let your hand go abruptly.

"You think you bother me with your well-being? Are you fucking serious?" Saeran took a step back, only so much until he's out of your room. At a loss for arguments, you used all willpower to keep focusing on his eyes, although they're shimmering as if they're about to fall apart.

How did this escalate? Have you really done the wrong thing? He tore his head forward again, a meek shade of red caused by annoyance coloring his cheeks. "If you think I can't even handle hearing how you're doing then why are we friends in the first place," Your lips dried out by that. "Weren't you the one who said friendship goes both ways? Pretty bold to say one thing and pretend while doing the exact opposite of it." The sweat ran down your neck, striking your skin ice cold once Saeran came closer again.

Threatening, silent steps that squeezed out new tears. "I tell you what, (N).. I don't need your care." The air stopped moving the moment the words lingered inside your ears. Saeran stared down at you, aware he struck a nerve when your eyes widened.

"I don't need sugarcoating or pity," He muttered, becoming more bitter with the next sentence. "Especially from someone who I actually fucking care for."

He never admitted that until now. Your hands moved quicker than your brain could process by grabbing his sweater between the fingers. Saeran tried to brush you off once again. However, this time you're prepared. "I'm not doing e-either.. I don't want- I don't wanna hurt you.." You sobbed, pressing your forehead to his chest. "I never w-want to cause you pain... never." A hiccup came next.

Saeran didn't react for a long moment, frightening you. But then you felt him sigh. "Too late for that. At least treat me like a human being from now on. I'm not a godforsaken porcelain doll."

You sniffed as the sound got damped by pressing your face deeper against his body, hearing how fast his heart was racing. Maybe he's right, perhaps you'd been treating him wrong by wanting to hold all the negativity of yours hidden for his sake. He's used to so much, you never wanted to dump yours on top of his and yet, not showing anything seemed to make this a lot more complicated than needed. Had you learned something important from him today?

You nodded, taking the opportunity to inhale the smell of both his scent and clothes. "M'kay.. I thought I was doing you a-a favor.. I'm sorry." He hushed you softly, big contrast to his stone-cold facade earlier.

"Yeah, yeah.. It's fine. I know that, by the way." He added, hesitant to place his hand onto your back. "I know you have good intentions. You know, I just.. You bring that side out in me." The unpleasant feelings that caused made you smile in amusement. "It's scary to us both, so deal with your actions." Saeran managed to rub his hand over your shoulder in a comforting manner. All the tension melted away as you released the air you didn't know you've been holding. "I think I'm fine with that."

You chuckled, feeling his body let go the stiff position as well. "Hmh, you better be." The playful hint in his rough voice caused you to giggle again, burying your face into his sweater completely. Saeran puffed his cheeks without you knowing. "Stupid Flower."

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undead-merman · 2 years

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Strige Great Hawk and Harper with GN-Reader SFW and NSFW

Great Hawk

Appearance

Some may call him an abomination, but there's a strange beauty in his form. Some insectoid parts intertwine with more feathered features. If it weren’t for his colors, he might resemble a bee somewhat.

His feathers are a mix of crimson and a deep maroon, almost black, the stripes standing out on his body. Those feathers collect around his neck, wrists to his mid forearm, and around his ankles and up his calves.

Across his body are also exoskeleton, blood red chitin like armor. Pauldron-like shoulders and across his chest and stomach. As well as down his legs to his feet.

He has two sets of large wings with the lower set just being a bit smaller. They are powerful wings that can fold up nice and tight so he can fit into smaller places like a cat fitting through the tiniest hole in the fence. Those wings are strong enough to let him pick up a fully grown and squealing pig and fly off with it.

He also has two sets of arms, each with avian talons that are designed for gripping with claws three inches on each finger. While they are made for gripping they can also give deep lacerations.

And finally his tongue. This tongue is stiff but still flexible like a butterfly's proboscis. It's sharp at the tip allowing him to puncture skin and drink down blood. It's long. About a foot allowing him some distance and wiggle room.

A feathered blood sucker

His strange appearance forces him to be a lone creature. The others flee just from the sight of him. He doesn’t truly mind though, it leaves him a good hunting spot for prey.

He doesn’t really have a care for what he hunts, other monsters, humans, even oversized bugs. Whatever seems big enough to fill him he takes.

After he spots his prey he’ll swoop in taking them under the arms and by the neck taking them into air as he pierces them with his tongue. It’s sharp, painful, and he’ll drink every last drop before dropping their body for the flesh scavengers.

His day consists of waking up early, checking over his territory while searching for prey, going to sunbathe for a while, before going back to his den and waiting for any kind of prey or even a mate.

Taking you as a mate

You just so happened to be exploring that cave for whatever reason you may have had, sneaking past the other Striges or even wailing on them till they fell unconscious, and you had entered Great Hawk’s part of the cave. A large open part of the cave with limestone stalagmites and stalactites everywhere, creating endless hiding spots.

With your light in hand, to Great Hawk you look like a will-o-wisp. Enticing him with small glances of your face. Not to mention the scent of you. Are you doing this on purpose?

He settles on fate, so he swoops down and picks you up in a smooth motion. In an instant you up in the air with those stalagmites look mighty sharp from up here. Taking you to a cramped ledge that was more a hole in the wall than anything else.

He took a seat and pulled you into his lap, fighting against your struggles as he used both sets of hands to hold you still while his tongue lightly dips into your skin and gets a taste, and he melts. Something deep down in his gut rouses his instinct that tells him to make you his. But as an individual he doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s seen so many other creatures who have forced themselves on their mates only to have them hate each other. He doesn’t want that.

So instead he offers his own blood, but is confused why you don’t try it. Perplexed, he takes off and tries to think about how to approach you. Seems there is a gap in understanding. He’ll wait though. For his mate he’ll wait as long as you need.

But the day you finally give in and accept that he loves you and he finally gets to intertwine and become one with you is the happiest of his life. Blood intermixing as he fills you with cum and love. Just one round cannot be enough, more. More to make up for the days he couldn’t be with you like this. Let him fill you completely until you can make a perfect little family.

Harper

Appearance

Striges namely have four wings, four arms, and a large thorax situated just above their hips. Harper is more humanoid then his other fellow kin.

He possesses a single set of wings, though are folded tight against his body. They’re freakishly like hands, which he can move just like hands. They have a membrane the same color as his skin with the fingers and arms of it being a bright red.

He has insectoid parts, though he keeps them hidden under his medical mask, his gloves, and his medical coat. Those hidden places have scale-like growths, under his medical mask which he keeps hidden from everyone there’s sharp teeth, with a long tongue with a tiny needle like tip which can retract and expand outwards.

He doesn’t have a thorax. He stores the blood in what he discovered is a second stomach which is specifically for digesting blood. Lucky he doesn’t need too much blood to survive and after some self experimentation he can survive on 12 mL a week comfortably.

The good Hematologist

Harper is in quite a comfortable position. He has access to all the blood he wants, but he also has a talent of being able to taste everything about his patients. The flavor of cholesterol, iron, anything. He can taste organ failure, blood sugar, even build up in the arteries and he’s much faster at it then sending it in to do work. All he has to do is taste.

He’s a good doctor and he never takes it directly, that would not only hurt his patients but also give away his true nature. He knows people already whisper about him, but he’s rather that, then trying to burn him alive for being a pest.

Still he doesn’t let his nature get too much in the way of his work, but that was until he met a brand new patent.

Taking a new patient

Looking over your paperwork he thought you were certainly attractive, he looked over your medical history and familiarized himself with your records and always found himself looking at your pictures.

The day he finally saw you, he was entranced. Your pictures certainly didn’t do you justice. And that smell, something about that smell of yours was enticing in a way he had never had before. Not to mention when his gloved hands trailed over bear skin or his stethoscope brushing over your chest. By the time it ended he was left in a haze and he had already drawn your blood.

In the back room he pulls down his mask to take a sip of one of the viles and like a truck full of aphrodisiacs hit him and replaced all of his blood. His blood flooded down to his dick and he couldn’t stop himself from drinking more while tugging his cock to the thought of you. He couldn't stop himself, he came over and over until the end of the day. Turns out he had found a favorite new patient.

Each visit he touches you more and more, each test becomes more invasive as he stuffs your head full of uncertainties that only he can calm with more tests. Hypnotizing you into becoming a hypochondriac just so you see him more often.

Soon he’ll have you in a daze, and he’s convinced himself to break his one rule of never drinking straight from the source, that fantastic blood. He has you sitting in his lap jerking you off and maybe even filling you with his cock. Each sip is divine and with all his treatments you taste healthy, not an ounce of filth in your bloodstream.

Maybe he should take you in as an assistant, or a nurse have you close by to keep an eye on you. But first let him cum in you one more time.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #harper the doctor #great hawk the terror

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apoptoses · 1 year

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Did exactly as you said and read chapter 4. It’s now 3 hours later and I’m still in pieces. Took another nap but I still feel so emotionally/physically drained lmao I was genuinely sobbing into my pillow and I had to pause several times to either marinate in my feelings or play a song that I thought fit the scene I’d just read (literally listened to Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas 3 times at one point like... “that summer memory that just never dies, we worked too long and hard to give it no time. He sees right through me, it's so easy with lies, cracks in the road that I would try and disguise. He runs the scissors at the seam in the wall. He cannot break it down or else he would fall. One thousand lonely stars hiding in the cold”). Babes I was going THROUGH IT. So hopefully this makes sense🤞

"That first conversation in it was entirely redone thanks to you ♥” god I’m so flattered! It was absolute perfection and it hurt so good. I have no idea how it used to look before our conversation but the way you had Armand on the verge on a panic attack? with everything crumbling down around him during those brief moments in which he thought he’d lost Daniel again... stunning. "How could you possibly think saying something like that is fair when just last night I told you how your running affected me? Am I meant to be kept on the pillory for this entire trip while you come away unscathed?" Armand asked. "It's not fair, Daniel." NO IT’S NOT, and Daniel owning up to it and trying to comfort him even in the middle of a fight was so lovely, so him.

This though: “There’s a part near the back, the purple post it? Read me that part,” Daniel said. “I want to hear it from your own mouth.” NO. LISTEN. I put down my phone, phisically backed away from it and said “OH SHIT”. It was fucking brutal and I was speechless. My favorite bit so far I think but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to actually read it again. Wow.

And I just love your use of rain as a motif here, and the weather in general, them driving through a thunderstorm both externally and internally is such a great choice. And how them getting through the worst part meant they were almost there. Besides, rain was also a thing in canon for them, and I’d like to think Anne made a deliberate choice when she gave them their first “big” moment together in years, alone in the rain, like you did here. In both instances it feels like it’s about washing away regrets, insecurities, doubts, and finally having them see each other as they are.

“I want the Armand that woke up excited every day looking for a new adventure, where has that part of you gone? Did it really die with me?” Yeah THIS. I think it’s something that gets brough up often in fandom conversations (maybe not as explicitly as you put it here but it’s the underlying message we’ve been trying to convey imo). How serious, stiff, aloof Armand seems in later books, like he’s just going through the motions, only kind of coming back to life whenever Lestat is around or something’s happened to him. But that overly excited, curious, affectionate, intense young man we met in QotD seems to be gone for good. Like that’s a version of him nobody but Daniel met (maybe only the boys at the palazzo? but that was Amadeo, not Armand, so it’s not the same), only to disappear forever after Daniel left. Seeing Armand tell him that he also misses that part of himself and wants to recover it felt like a punch in the gut.

“Wondered what exactly it was that had turned his emotions into these calcified things that were trapped inside of him, impossible for anyone to excise no matter how much they loved him.Perhaps it was Marius. Something passed on in the blood, a genetic indisposition to being vulnerable. Or perhaps it was that first assailant who had forced himself inside of Armand and in doing so stole the memories from his brain and tied his tongue in a knot so tight he was rendered unable to speak. Or was it the rejections he’d endured that had solidified the belief that he was a tainted and an unloved thing? Or- worst of all- maybe it was some inherent quality of his own. Some flaw of the personality, as immutable as the length of his hair or the color of his eyes. Forever frozen in time by his immortal blood”. Fuck. I mean we know others have wondered. Marius said just as much at some point didn’t he? How he thought Amadeo’s eyes had been “cruel” even as a mortal boy, how there was something innately wrong with him that he couldn’t wipe away even with all the love in the world. And then Armand himself saying how he feels there’s an “eternal winter” inside of him, how everything he holds in his hands, as you put it, “crumbles into dust”. GOD.

And then when Daniel started sobbing? I WAS SOBBING. Armand feeling like he had to get out of the car to comfort him or otherwise he’d lose him for good broke me.

“There was no real need for him to look over to change lanes, except the desire to catch another glimpse of Daniel’s curious expression. Armand’s heart fluttered fast as Amadeo’s when their eyes met. “What was that look for?” Daniel asked. “Nothing. I was only checking the traffic.” AWWWW my babies, I love them sm they’re getting there!!! 🥹 And I LOVE how you keep building up that kiss they haven’t had yet. I have no doubt it’ll live up to the hype. Every single line in this is canon to me ofc you’re incredible xoxo DA ❤️

DA, I'm so glad you survived it haha

I have no idea how it used to look before our conversation but the way you had Armand on the verge on a panic attack? with everything crumbling down around him during those brief moments in which he thought he’d lost Daniel again... stunning.

Yeah, in draft one Daniel kinda just....got away with it haha Armand got called out for pushing him away when he was just trying to comfort him, but Daniel caught no flack at all for running off and didn't apologize and I thought NOPE, no that's wrong. They gotta touch on that problem and Armand can't let this trip just be the Roast of Armand de Romanus. So. There :) I'm glad it worked!! I think the story is much better for it.

It is a topic they bump up against again but that's a quieter, less charged moment.

The book conversation though! I wanted THAT to happen for a long time. What's more brutal than being forced to read out your own words and explain them? Nothing!! And I think it's something that was on Daniel's mind the first time he ever read that part. He wanted to hear it from Armand's mouth because he couldn't believe it was real.

Besides, rain was also a thing in canon for them, and I’d like to think Anne made a deliberate choice when she gave them their first “big” moment together in years, alone in the rain, like you did here. In both instances it feels like it’s about washing away regrets, insecurities, doubts, and finally having them see each other as they are.

Thank you!! I really wanted them to HAVE to drive slow, to need to stop at some point. And rain was the best way to do it. I actually forgot it was raining the night Daniel died! It's such a nice accidental parallel.

How serious, stiff, aloof Armand seems in later books, like he’s just going through the motions, only kind of coming back to life whenever Lestat is around or something’s happened to him.

Right! I think about it a lot. I mean, it makes sense in the wake of his attempt at going into the sun. Depression isn't cured just because he survived. But it's really strange that he's got two fledglings living in his home and he just doesn't seem happy. It's like he never did the work to figure out what made him so unhappy in the first place, so Daniel has to push him to look at that and figure it out.

Fuck. I mean we know others have wondered. Marius said just as much at some point didn’t he? How he thought Amadeo’s eyes had been “cruel” even as a mortal boy, how there was something innately wrong with him that he couldn’t wipe away even with all the love in the world. And then Armand himself saying how he feels there’s an “eternal winter” inside of him, how everything he holds in his hands, as you put it, “crumbles into dust”. GOD.

Exactly. I don't think he's cruel like Marius characterized him. I think he's traumatized, he's had C-PTSD immortalized into his veins via the blood. The eternal winter in him is just all the things he never worked through and that Daniel is going to ask him to sort through now so he can understand him and start to heal with ihm.

And then when Daniel started sobbing? I WAS SOBBING. Armand feeling like he had to get out of the car to comfort him or otherwise he’d lose him for good broke me.

Armand is a good boyfriend at heart 🥹 He's been so paralyzed up to this point and now he's taking action! He can do better he can be better!

I love them sm they’re getting there!!! 🥹 And I LOVE how you keep building up that kiss they haven’t had yet. I have no doubt it’ll live up to the hype.

They're trying hard! That first kiss- it's a lot, it's explosive! And a lot of softer kisses are sure to follow. I hope it stands up to whatever you're hoping for ♥

You're incredible for delivering these reviews right to my inbox!! I'm so happy you like it 🥹

#apoptoses answers #dungeon anon

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