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peachy-posy · 7 months

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Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 3)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: Last chapter!!! It's literally pretty much all smut lmaoooo Thank you for reading along <3

Chapter Tags: Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Finger Riding, Mild Breeding Kink, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Inside

Word Count: 5.4k

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When you wake up, the room is dark. Dim moonlight filters softly into the room, illuminating the small quarters.

You sink further into the warm mass you’re pressed against, trying to align your body to fit more snugly against his sleeping form.

Your lover has one arm snaking around your waist, hand splayed on your hip. Sensing your movements, he begins to stir softly, a quiet groan escaping his lips. His fingers twitch as he wakes, and he tightens his arm around you as he blinks open his turquoise eyes.

He smiles sleepily, free hand coming up to your face, brushing a loose strand of your bangs behind your ear. You smile back, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before drawing back.

“Sleep okay, love?” His voice is charmingly gravelly from just waking up.

A soft snort escapes you as you nod. He still sounds mostly asleep. “Not as good as you, I don’t think,” you joke.

A grin adorns his face as he nods in agreement, drawing you closer to his warm body.

You glance over to the window, a sigh escaping your lips. “We really overslept a bit, huh?”

Vash laughs, shrugging. “Ah, who cares. That was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

You lie together comfortably, his fingers running through your hair, scratching your scalp. Despite the peaceful atmosphere of the room, your mind is racing, your earlier conversation situated at the forefront of your thoughts.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you murmur against his chest.

“I know,” he replies quietly.

Biting the inside of your lip, you press forward. “I really am sorry… I never want you to be hurting alone.”

He says nothing for a moment, silence settling into the room like a thin layer of dust. Fear that you’ve somehow said the wrong thing begins forming in your chest, and you swallow thickly in an attempt to soothe it. Just as you’re about to start over explaining yourself, he speaks.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he remarks, a wistful smile on his lips. “I… I don’t deserve someone to share my hurt with.” He pauses, eyes somewhat glazed as he gets lost in his thoughts. “I don’t deserve you.”

Your chest twists painfully, his words causing you to feel ill. You refuse to allow him to keep thinking of himself this way. Hastily pushing yourself into an upright position, you turn to face him. His eyes are wide as you level him with an intense stare.

“I don’t want to hear you say that ever again, Vash! You deserve the world . I’ll try to give that to you for as long as I live.” You pause briefly, trying to shift your tone into something more tender. “I’ve never met anyone as selfless, and kind, and brave, and sma-“ your words die out, interrupted by him surging forward, lips capturing yours in a desperate, passionate kiss.

Initially, the shock of the kiss has you stiff, but you find yourself quickly melting into him.

He pulls back, ending the kiss as quickly as it started. You stare at him, a feeling of breathlessness in your chest.

“I love you. God, I love you so much.” The words fall from his lips so beautifully, and you waste no time in stealing another intense kiss. He reciprocates it immediately, hands raising to cup your jaw.

“I,” you gasp, managing to pull away for a moment before his hands draw you in again roughly. The kiss is wet and rushed, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull back again after a few seconds, lips close enough to still be grazing his, breathing out, “love you.” He surges forward, desperately seeking out your lips as if he needs them to survive.

Without interrupting your kiss, you swing your knee over his hips to straddle him. He leans back in a fluid motion, pulling you with him to the mattress. Using your knees and forearms to support you, you hover over his pelvis and lean over his chest, deepening the kiss. Your bodies rock together sensually as his tongue slips past your lips, drawing a soft moan from your chest.

His hands trail roughly down your body, possessive as he squeezes and claims you. They eventually come to rest on your hips, gripping them as his pelvis bucks slightly against you. The feeling is electrifying, and you grind your clothed sex down on him in response, drawing a groan from him. Heat rushes through your core as you feel his hardened member, aching with want.

Just as you’re about to see if he wants to go further, he draws back, letting his head rest on the mattress, cheeks flushed. The otherwise quiet, dusty bedroom is filled with the sounds of soft panting.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes hooded with lust. “I’m being selfish… I wasn’t even considering the fact that you got injured today. You’re probably still sore, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You gaze at him for several long moments, his thoughtfulness making you feel both touched and impatient. “Vash, I’m fine. What I am is extremely pent up, though, so I would really appreciate it if we could take care of that.” He blushes slightly, and you can’t stop the smirk that pulls at your lips. “In fact, I’m hoping I’ll be sore if I play my cards right.”

A giggle falls from your lips as he gapes at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s not long before he too eventually snorts, giving into laughing along with you.

“Unbelievable!” He chides, giving you a playful poke to your side. “I was worried about you, and here you are, only one thing on your mind!”

You blush, grinning down at him. “Well, I’m not alone in thinking about it.” A purposeful shift of your body on his pelvis effectively proves your point, putting pressure on his hardened length. The sensation draws a pleasured groan from him, and your grin widens.

He swallows thickly. “I guess it has been a little while.”

That could be the biggest understatement of the year. Traveling in a group doesn’t exactly allow many opportunities for intimacy. Many nights have been spent under the stars in the desert, unable to do more than share chaste kisses and a sleeping bag.

“All right,” he sighs. “But you’re gonna have to keep it down for once, because these walls are pretty thin,” he warns teasingly.

You regard him with a playfully scandalized expression, mouth open, a smile threatening to betray your rouse. “ For once? You’re so full of it!”

He grins at you, snickering softly and murmuring a not-so-apologetic sounding apology. Cupping the base of your head, he pulls you down for a kiss. You smile against his lips, your fingers hastily working to remove his shirt.

Once it’s been slipped over his head and tossed aside, you sit back up, eyes shamelessly roving over his figure. He is a vision of beauty, his defined muscles lightly flexing as you graze your fingernails across his skin. The soft touch has him gasping, his own hands sliding up and down your sides.

When you two first got together, he was incredibly self conscious about his body. All intimacy involved his shirt remaining on, which was perfectly fine with you. You wanted him to be comfortable and to be able to fully enjoy himself, and were happy to build up his confidence slowly.

He finally showed you his shirtless form after months of gentle reassurances and confidence building, and you traced your fingers delicately over his scars with tears streaming down your cheeks, babbling that you couldn’t understand how so many could hurt him this way.

You’d felt terrible afterwards. He had to comfort you when he was in a very vulnerable state. You apologized profusely, vowing to him that you would take every bad and painful touch his body had ever been scarred with and replace it tenfold with a gentle and loving one.

And you spent as much time as you could fulfilling that promise.

You begin peppering kisses all over him, wanting to claim every inch of his skin with them. Keeping your touch featherlight, you graze every ridge and valley on his abdomen, absolutely relishing the pleasured sounds you’re able to pull from him. Your mouth works its way down his body, taking time to give every scar you can see attention with your lips and mouth. His breath catches when you give a few quick sucks to his nipples, teeth just barely scraping against them.

Your body is situated right atop his still covered cock, the pressure on it constantly fluctuating as you shift and move. The way he sounds as he’s panting and moaning lights a fire in you, smoldering and building with every passing moment. You find yourself struggling to not grind against him to soothe the tingling heat in your core.

You kiss and nip slowly down his stomach, your own body scooting down in between his legs, your head finally reaching his pants. Your eyes flick up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face goes directly to your cunt. He’s already wrecked and you’ve barely touched him—his chest is rising and falling in quick, uneven pants; beads of sweat are accumulating at his hairline, rolling slowly down his face; his cheeks are flushed with arousal.

His cock is painfully hard: you don’t need to remove anything to tell that much. You’re glad he’s wearing a pair of loose, gray sweatpants, because they’re much easier to remove than his normal clothes.

With nimble fingers, you slide his pants and underwear off, tossing them aside haphazardly, eyes trained on his thick length.

You glance at him through your lashes again. “So hard already, baby,” you murmur, lightly gripping his cock and giving it a slow stroke.

He moans deliciously, his head tilting back into the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me, Mayfly,” he mumbles, the back of his hand covering his eyes.

You grin, giving him a firmer stroke. The moan he lets out makes you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any relief for your aching, wet sex.

You go down on him eagerly, taking the tip of his thick cock into your mouth, moaning as you suck and lick the head and slit. A shaky, breathy moan escapes his lips as his hands grasp at the sheets, and you start pumping his shaft with your hands while focusing on the bulbous tip with your mouth and tongue.

You sneak an occasional glance at your lover while you suck him off, unable to keep your eyes off him for long. He has his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, his mouth open as quiet, lewd whimpers and groans spill from his lips. His hips twitch involuntarily as he loses himself in the wet heat of your mouth.

He begins to thrust up into you as his pants and moans become more noticeable, but you hold him down by the hips, removing your hands from his cock, rubbing placating circles against his hip bone. Just as he’s beginning to make noises of protest, you take him completely into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat. The strangled cry that leaves his throat spurs you on as you begin bobbing up and down in earnest, sucking and hollowing your cheeks.

He cries out your name, one of his hands covering his mouth to try and stifle his moans. His other hand is gripping the sheets, holding them so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Oh, f-fuck, yes, just like that baby,” he babbles, his words muffled around his hand. He starts jerking his hips into your mouth again, and you let him this time, swallowing around his cock as he fucks your mouth.

You begin to notice his body tense up periodically, and based on the noises of desperation falling from his covered mouth, you know he’s getting close.

Deciding to try and push him over the edge, you take him deeper into your throat, but he cries out once more, gasping, “Baby, baby, wait-wait!” As you register his words, you begin easing up, but he grabs your head urgently and pulls you off his throbbing cock, his hips jerking forward reflexively.

You look up, furrowing your brow, eyes watering and wet lips parted and swollen. He’s sitting up, hunched over, panting and trembling. A bead of sweat rolls down his neck and along his collarbone, and the sight of him this way makes you want to step back in and finish the job.

You scold yourself mentally for being distracted and horny, trying to reign it in to make sure he’s all right.

“Everything okay?” Your voice is slightly hoarse as you rub a hand soothingly along his thigh. You move to sit up on your knees, resting in between his parted legs.

He looks out of it, and it takes a moment for your question to register. With a reassuring nod, he runs a hand through his sweat slicked locks, putting his free hand over yours with a breathless chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, more than okay—I just don’t wanna cum yet, s’too soon,” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

A delighted grin forms on your lips as you lunge forward and pepper kisses on his nose and cheekbones.

“Aw! Such a thoughtful partner I have!” You praise happily, somewhat teasing.

When he looks at you, his eyes darken, prompting you to swallow thickly as arousal tingles in your core.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, and he murmurs, “Actually…” Leaning forward, his voice lowers as he speaks into your ear. “I only wanna cum inside you. It’d be such a waste going down your throat.”

You choke on air, anticipation swirling in your gut. You have no idea where that suddenly came from, but it would be a lie if you said it didn’t turn you on. You know your face is bright red, because when he leans back to look at you, he can’t hold back his laughter at your expression. Your face feels even hotter as you look away from him.

“Sorry, sorry… too much?” He finally manages, his hand coming up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Um… actually…” you bite your lip, eyes trained on anything other than him in the moonlit room, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

He absolutely glows with excitement.

“Mayfly!” He gasps, his tone playfully scandalized. “Did we just find a new kink?”

You hide your flaming cheeks with your hands, fingers spread across your eyes. In your embarrassment, all you can manage is a high pitched, “Mhm!”

He coos playfully, reaching for your wrists. “C’mon, don’t hide. It’s okay! It’s hot!”

Tugging your wrists away from your face, he plants little kisses on your cheekbones, ceasing only when you meet his eyes again.

A pleased grin is plastered on his face as he releases your wrists, drawing a huff of laughter from you. As he reaches forward to pull you in by the base of your neck for a soft kiss, you feel the tension melt from your body.

Feeling reassured that you’ve recovered from your slight embarrassment, his hands drift, grazing down to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping under the fabric to feel your heated, sweat-slicked skin. Reaching down after him, you lift your shirt off easily, tossing it aside. His hands slide up your body sensually, snaking around your back, seeking out the clasp of your bra. With practiced fingers, the clasp is freed, and you let the garment slide down your arms, flinging it haphazardly.

A moan spills from your lips as his calloused hands cup your breasts, fingers gently pinching your hardened nipples. You feel heady with lust and anticipation, your pussy throbbing.

You rest your forehead against his own, sharing his breaths, relaxing into him as you feel one of his hands ghost down your belly. Your eyelids flutter shut as his hand trails further down, slipping into your pants and underwear, prompting you to part your knees.

Vash’s lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh as his fingertips reach your soaking folds. A pleased groan rumbles from his chest as he feels your wetness, dipping into your cunt to spread the fluids towards your throbbing clit. A shaky, wanton moan tumbles from your lips, his touch electric on your aching sex.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your neck breathlessly, finger dipping back into your hole.

“Vash, please,” you whine, shifting to get his finger closer to your swollen clit.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, his finger finally sliding to where you want it. Your body jolts as he starts rubbing small circles into you, his movements somewhat restricted by your pants, but still effective in sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He curses under his breath as lewd whimpers escape you, pitched and desperate.

Hastily pulling your remaining clothes off, you shudder as he increases the pressure on your clit once he has more room. You’re so wound up you know you won’t last long like this, and he seems to know this too.

The sparking pleasure from his finger eases up gradually, leaving you breathlessly reeling. You feel his finger slide down your folds, dipping slowly into your cunt. You whine as he sinks it into you, resisting the impulse to squeeze your thighs together. The small intrusion of his finger feels like sweet relief, and you find yourself quaking when he’s knuckles deep.

You feel his long finger curl, pressing onto the plush walls of your pussy with a teasingly slow pace. Pleasure jolts in your core and you groan lasciviously, feeling his pulsing finger quicken its pace.

It’s not long before he is relentlessly fingering your g-spot, slipping another finger into your wet hole. You grind your clit into his palm, desperately seeking out friction.

Your body feels like a live wire, core thrumming with pleasure. Your breaths are coming in short pants, and your forehead has dropped down to rest in the crook of your lover’s shoulder, where he’s babbling praises into your ear.

‘So good for me, you’re taking me so well, so tight.’

Your hips start rolling, and you moan Vash’s name with tears in your eyes when his fingers hit just right.

“Right there?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod vigorously, gripping onto his bicep to ground yourself. He watches you with wide eyes, completely transfixed, and makes no move to stop you from taking your pleasure.

You let yourself get lost in the heat that’s buzzing deep inside you, head thrown back and eyes closed, riding your lover’s fingers with pitched moans. With every roll of your hips, Vash’s palm rubs into you, the friction sending jolts of ecstasy through your body.

Vash’s other hand creeps down his own body, and he starts to fuck his fist slowly as he watches you. He stares, entranced as your eyebrows furrow, and can feel your walls begin to tense sporadically on his fingers. He slips a third finger into your heat and you gasp in response, hips stuttering momentarily as you adjust.

The pleasure that has been steadily building is beginning to reach its breaking point. Every brush of his fingers against your g-spot sends you hurdling closer to your climax. As much as you’d like to have that release, you don’t mind to edge yourself a bit, wanting to reciprocate the thoughtfulness your partner showed you.

“Mmm, baby, ‘m close,” you mumble, huffing for breath as sweat rolls down every part of your body, hips steadily rolling to a stop. You lift yourself gingerly, beginning to scoot back to let Vash’s fingers slide out of your throbbing cunt, but cry out in surprise when you feel his hand grasp your hip, pushing you back down on his digits harshly. His fingers push hard against your g-spot, sending delicious sparks of ecstasy through you, teetering dangerously close to the edge once again. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to gain some control, trying to breathe through the orgasm that is threatening to overtake you.

You open your eyes to ask Vash what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when you see him. He’s watching you, completely captivated, panting and sweating, cock strained and hard. He has an intense look on his face.

“Who said you should stop?” His voice is low, and you swallow thickly. His fingers twitch in you, and you squirm slightly, swallowing a whimper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

Before you have a chance to mumble out a reply, he curls his digits inside you, and you cry out in bliss. He fingers you roughly, sparks of hot pleasure shooting into your belly. You’re worked back to the edge swiftly, gasping desperately, walls tensing on his long fingers. He leans forward slightly, face close to your ear.

“C’mon Mayfly,” he breathes, giving you a wet kiss right under your jaw. You feel him suck and nip at your sensitive skin, shuddering from all of the sensations assaulting you. He shifts up, lips right on your ear. Fingers relentless inside of you, you feel tears prick at your eyes. He brings his palm closer to your heat, grinding it against your clit. “Come for me, you’re so close.”

That’s all you can take: you throw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you are thrown over the edge with a strangled cry. Your orgasm is one of the most intense you’ve ever had, the unshed tears from earlier spilling over your lashes as your body goes rigid. He continues to fuck you through it, praising you as he feels your walls clamp down, fluttering sporadically, fluids gushing around his fingers. Your body is wracked by aftershocks of pleasure, and you gasp against him each time. Eventually, the waves begin to fizzle, and you slump against him as stray tears roll down your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head.

You whimper as he withdraws his slicked fingers, arms still wrapped around his neck to anchor yourself from the intense pleasure you’re still coming down from.

Despite the mind blowing orgasm he just gave you, that tingling, hot sensation of unadulterated want can still be felt in your core, and you know you could do another round.

His hand strokes up and down your spine, his touch brimming with love and care. A few moments pass before either of you speak again, allowing you to collect yourself.

“Can you keep going?” He asks softly, kissing that same spot on your head. Even though he hasn’t cum, there’s no pressure in his question. There never has been and there never will be. He only wants to continue if you do.

You smile weakly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “‘Course I can. What do you take me for?”

He chuckles softly, gently wiping the remnants of a tear off your cheek. “You’re insatiable.”

You blush, but laugh along with him, giving him a small, affectionate kiss on the nose. “Hey, I tried to stop. I think you’re just into it.”

He grins, and your heart skips a beat. “Guilty as charged.”

After giving you another few moments to recover, Vash guides you gently back onto his hips, laying down with his back on the mattress. You straddle him, and he places his large hands on your hips. You smile warmly, taking in his visage laying under you.

“You’re stunning,” you whisper, lovingly stroking his forearms at your sides.

He blushes, and your smile brightens. “I could say the same thing. I’ve got a pretty good view from here,” he replies, his thumbs stroking the plush flesh around your hips.

Lifting yourself onto your knees, Vash reaches down to guide himself into your sensitive heat.

It’s been a while for you both, so the stretch to accommodate his member straddles pleasure and pain. You balance yourself using his chest, slowly lowering yourself onto him. You’re half tempted to just throw caution to the wind and bottom out now, despite being oversensitive.

“Don’t - ah - don’t rush, Mayfly,” he chides, sensing your impatience.

“‘s taking too long,” you mumble back, closing your eyes as you concentrate. His grip tightens on your hips to control your descent, his breathing quick.

When you finally bottom out, you both let out a deep exhale, taking a moment to get adjusted. You feel so full, the burn from stretching not quite gone, but dissipating steadily.

After remaining seated for a few moments, you try an experimental roll of your hips, deciding both the sensitivity and stretch is bearable. Vash sucks in a sharp breath, and you take it as a cue to keep going.

You start at a steady, but slow pace, mostly grinding at this point. It’s not long, though, before you raise yourself up and sink back down, a breathy moan of Vash’s name on your tongue. Setting a languid pace, you bite your lip as he moans wantonly. His thick cock twitches inside you as you ride him, your walls clenching on him sporadically.

“Oh, god you’re tight. Fuck.”

Soon, the slow pace isn’t enough, and you begin bouncing on his hips, his cock spearing deep into you, sparks of pleasure shooting into your core. His hands grip your inner thighs, thumbs resting in the divet connecting your pelvis to your thighs, head tilting back into the pillows, eyes closed. His swollen lips part as soft groans and pants of your name spill from them.

“Like that, god yes,” he mutters, his hips starting to thrust in tune with your movements.

You throw your head back as his thrusts become more forceful, less controlled. You feel so deliciously full, the burn from the stretch completely gone. His grip on your thighs tightens, and he starts pulling you down harder, driving a pleasured cry from your mouth. Your eyes flit down to where you’re joined, watching as he snaps his hips upwards, his muscles flexing as he moves.

You are taken by surprise when Vash’s grip on your thighs moves abruptly to your waist, and he rolls you over, switching positions. Now looming over top of you, he thrusts his cock into you at a punishing pace. You gasp, the pleasure building in your core dizzying. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, your body folding as he fucks into you. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hammering your g-spot and causing a wet squelching noise.

In an unfortunately timed moment of self-awareness breaking through your haze of lust, you realize just how loud you two have been this whole time: the lewd slapping of your sweat soaked bodies, the old bed creaking and scraping the floor, the wooden headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, the breathy ’ ah’ that spills from your lips with every thrust, the heavy panting and groaning from your lover. Your face turns beet red, but you can’t stop the keening noise you make at a particularly deep thrust.

“Oh my god,” you groan, mortified that half the inn probably knows what you’re doing.

“What’s wrong?” Vash manages, unrelenting in his pace.

“We, ah, I just realized, mm…” your words fail you for a moment, toes curling as he bends you further, trying to get closer to hear you better. “We’ve been so, ngh, loud,” you finally get out, face turning impossibly redder.

The smug look that overtakes his features makes you wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

“I warned you earlier,” he pants, but seems all too pleased about the noise. Biting your hand, you attempt to stifle the noises you’re making, though you know it’s far too late to care. He gets a mischievous kind of look in his eye, and before you know it, his hand snakes down between your rocking bodies, fingers deftly brushing against your oversensitive clit.

All hopes in preserving your dignity are out the window.

A cry of his name pours from your lips, lost in the intense sensations overtaking your body. Your walls clench down on him, causing him to groan loudly, hips stuttering for a moment.

“C-close, close, mmm! ” you babble desperately, gasping, feeling the pleasure in your core winding up tighter with every toe curling slap of his hips.

“M-me too, Mayfly,” he pants, his pistoning hips becoming more erratic. He increases the pressure on your clit, tightening the coil in your core.

His ministrations bring you to your climax, a strangled moan tearing from your throat, your whole body going taut as you peak. The aftershocks of pleasure follow, hitting you in waves, your tightening, fluttering walls sending Vash closer to the edge. You feel his thrusts stutter.

“In, cum inside, please,” you beg, voice pitched and desperate as you toss your head to the side.

He curses under his breath at your erotic display, sweat dripping down his body. He manages one final thrust, pushing his cock in as deep as he can with a stuttered groan as his seed spills into you. The warm feeling of it filling you up extends your orgasm slightly, your cunt milking his throbbing member as much as possible. Vash grinds his hips into you, chasing the last waves of his pleasure as the remainder of his seed spills into you.

The blonde collapses onto the mattress after letting your legs fall from his shoulders, trying to land mostly to your side.

You’re a mess of heaving, tangled limbs on a bed. Both of you pant heavily, sweat drenching your bodies, his softening cock still inside you as your combined fluids start trickling from your puffy, sensitive hole.

After several moments spent catching your breath, you curl into him, wrapping a leg around his own. You hear him huff a bit of laughter, pulling you closely against him. He presses a kiss into your hair, and you gently trace patterns with your fingernails on his back.

You break the comfortable silence.

“I think… that may have been the best sex we’ve ever had.”

He snorts, his hand coming up to scratch your scalp softly. “I think you’re right. Not sure why though.”

“We were extremely pent up,” you point out. He hums in agreement. “And I’ve heard makeup sex is better than regular sex.”

Your statement takes him by surprise, a snicker finally escaping him following a beat of silence. You grin against his chest, pressing a kiss to the sweat-covered skin in front of you.

“Are you saying we should argue more and have sex less?” He asks, teasing.

“Hey, if it works, it works.”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You sigh into it, feeling your body melt.

“I love you,” you murmur softly against his lips.

“I love you too, Mayfly,” he replies, giving you another soft kiss for good measure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The following morning, you and Vash walk alongside Wolfwood to a nearby restaurant, seeking out some breakfast before getting on the road.

You had been worried sick that everyone would shoot dirty looks at you and your partner following your late-night activities; Wolfwood especially, since you’ll be stuck with him and his teasing long-term. It seems as if you’re in the clear, though, because you haven’t heard a word all morning.

After sitting at a small table at the restaurant, Vash takes your hand, holding it softly. You shoot him a quick, tender gaze before Wolfwood clears his throat.

“Y’know guys, I’m just so glad you were able to make up. You had me worried.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to thank you!” Vash exclaims suddenly, glad to have remembered. “Thank you for being there for her yesterday. We really owe you,” he finishes, his voice earnest. You smile pleasantly, taking a sip of water.

Wolfwood waves him off. “Think nothing of it, friend. Always glad to help.”

A beat of silence follows, and he adds nonchalantly, ��Y’know, I should be thanking you.”

You and Vash exchanged puzzled glances, before he asks, “What for?”

Wolfwood shrugs, plucking a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lighting it swiftly. “It was just so thoughtful to loudly make sure everyone at the inn knew you guys made up. You two are just constantly thinking of others.”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #vash x you #peachy writes!#fanfic #goodnight posting this makes me sooo nervous #first smut jitters? is that a thing? lmfao

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everlastingdreams · 4 months

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The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 23

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: The Wrath Of The Gods

Notes: /

Warnings: !Grief!. !Violence!. Torture. !Sexual Assault!. !Rape Threat!. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter: 23/ It’s a secret.

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Lancelot fell over on his side. Your body caved in at the sight of it happening, “No! Please, no!!!”

The Hidden’s enraged voices took over all sound.

You fought to get to him before it was too late to save him with your magic, the Brothers used their combined strength to keep you on the floor.

They forced you to watch him suffer, blood streamed out of his chest fast and began to pool under him.

The many times you had screamed out his name were countless, it was like being in a haze.

It took longer for Lancelot to die than the others, and by the time it was over you sat defeated and drained on the cold tile floor. Your vision was blurred completely by the tears.

This was the Reaper’s way of motivating.

Soran was saying something, you heard not a word of what it was.

Your eyes did not move away from the Ash Man, your friend, that had met a cruel end.

Only when the Reaper knelt down in front of you did you hear, “Bring him back.”

You spat in his face in response.

Soran held back his anger and rose to his feet. “Unhand her.”

The Brothers let go off you immediately at his command.

Soran coldly said, “Change his fate. Or will you leave him to rot?”

With the shock going through your body, you did not trust your legs. You crawled to Lancelot, your knees were in the blood when you got to his side. “Lancelot…”

The leaf pattern that had risen to the surface of his neck, no longer looked green, they looked withered like leaves who had abandoned their tree long ago. A sob cruelly forced it’s why out of you at the sight of it, you couldn’t stop them from flowing out of you anymore, the agony had taken hold on your body in the worst way.

Soran had left the knife where it was, a cruel act.

You could not heal a person when a weapon was still in their heart, the Reaper must have known this.

It forced you to remove the knife from Lancelot’s heart, and doing so was the most awful thing.

The knife fell from your hands, you didn’t want to touch it ever again.

“I am so sorry.” You sobbed and touched his cheek.

It was testing the Reaper’s patience it seemed. “Stop wasting time!”

You felt physically ill, it did not stop you from cupping Lancelot’s face and quietly begging the Hidden for help. “Please… hear my plea… give me your strength.” The green glow overtook your eyes, “And I will be your summoner.”

The Hidden’s power surged through your veins at the offer and it felt almost too strong to bear.

This magic felt wrong, like the Old Gods themselves gave it to you with great reluctance.

Still, you selfishly took it from them. If they decide to punish you for it, so be it.

Your head began to hurt, and as the pain increased blood came from your nose.

Your vision blurred until all you saw was green and all you heard were the Hidden.

The Old Gods had accepted you as their summoner and took control, proving how powerful they could be.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The cold that enveloped you in the cell had you jolt back into consciousness.

Inside the cell it was dark and it only added to your disorientation. You tried to get up and your legs gave up immediately.

Gods… you were tired.

It felt like you had been trampled over by a horse. You crawled to the bars and held on to one. What had happened after you had lost control to the Hidden? Had they made you do the impossible? One thing was for certain, it had drained you.

An attempt to call out Lancelot’s name failed miserably, your voice was both too weak and too strained, his name changed into air instead of a word because of it.

Your throat hurt and your trousers were covered in blood. His blood…

They had left a meal for you, the soup was still warm. The grief made it difficult to swallow a sip of soup to fix your sore throat.

You drank some, no longer caring if it contained poison, you needed to catch your strength and the warm soup helped your throat.

When you called out for Lancelot, louder this time, you waited for a reply.

The wait lasted and you had never felt so alone. You put the soup down and knocked it over on purpose.

It was as if your body had shut down, there was no hunger or thirst anymore. There was no point to drinking soup to fix your throat if there was no one there to hear your call, at least no one that you cared about.

The Ash Man’s death was numbing.

The only feeling truly registering was of the cold iron bars against the side of your face.

You had not even heard them enter the dungeon and only noticed them when the group of Brothers stood outside your cell.

“She’s finally awake. Soran will be pleased.” These bastards sounded happy to find you alive. Even though they had left you in a cold dark cell unconscious.

The cell door was opened, and you were still too weak to get up off the floor.

It took two of them to tie your wrists and drag you out of the dungeon whilst the others helped.

They weren’t taking you to the dinning hall, it took too long and the route was different.

They opened the door to a bedchamber, the carpet flooring was softer to sit on when they left you there and locked the door. They didn’t even bother to help you sit on the bed, you sat on the floor, looking at it.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when the Reaper walked into the room, your mind was elsewhere.

He spoke his usual madness. “We control the balance of life and death.”

Your thoughts slowly returned to you, “What?”

Soran kept a small distance. “The Weeping Monk is alive.”

Your eyes snapped to him, it didn’t feel real, was he even telling the truth?

Your question was sharp, “Where is he?”

He was deliberately vague. “We are keeping him somewhere else right now to see how well your magic has worked.”

You tried to get up from the floor and managed to do so by using one of the bed posts as support. “I want to see him!”

Soran had not expected the news to fuel you so. “I was right to believe in the legend of the Dawn Folk.”

You hated that he had been right. “This is wrong!”

He stepped closer, hand close to a knife on his belt, “Did you consider it wrong when you brought the Monk back from the dead? No. You are willing to defy the odds if it serves your purpose, just like I am.”

How dared he compare himself to you?!

You were tired of his blatant attempts to try and get you to join his cause. “I will not damn my people for you! The Hidden gave me the power to save a Fey. They make it no secret that they are the gods of the Fey and not of Manbloods. This sort of magic is against the rules of nature itself!”

Soran knew how weak you were after such use of your powers, he took the opportunity to get physically closer. “ In a few decades, a new Brotherhood will be born of the Dawn Folk. Half-bloods, but your legacy will spread and bring victory to the Church. My warrior blood, mixed with yours.”

It was the final insult to your clan, for them to become what had caused their erasure. He would turn them into murderous monsters, they would be able to heal and bring each other back from the dead, an enemy to be feared. Even one Dawn Folk child would be enough to heal the Brothers for years to come and ensure that the Brotherhood grows in power.

He continued to try and act like this was normal. To try and… charm you? Did he truly think you could ever fall in love with him??

He tried to caress your cheek and you quickly moved away, using the bed as support.

You tried to get that idea of of his head before it lead to trouble. “The Church will never accept Feys as allies!”

Soran was unwavering in his belief. “You saw how Father Carden used his Weeping Monk, his name is feared among the Fey. Not even the Holy Father will disapprove when the Dawn Folk rises to bring us glory. The Brotherhood will be undefeatable, Dawn Folk will heal their brethren.”

The danger he posed to you was evident.

You fed him doubt, “What if I can’t carry children? Have you ever thought of that in your ‘great’ plan?!”

He did not care for the torment it would put you through, his eyes were on the goal. “We will try. Your gods are no strangers to using their powers to assure the Fey are surviving. And I know the secret to children of the Dawn Folk. A full moon.”

It was a long kept secret among your people that all Dawn Folk children were conceived on a night with a full moon, that was the key. If the Reaper knew, it meant one of the Dawn Folk must have told him.

Soran had not a glimmer of real compassion in his eyes. “Think of my offer. You could become the most powerful woman in the lands at my side.”

He was truly delusional.

Finally you got back some strength in your legs and used the bedpost as support to try and take some steps away. “The only thing I would become is a monster!”

You noticed how he kept his hand close to the belt that held the knives across his chest.

He tried to reason, “In time you would be seen as a saint. Your children will save many.”

“Many bastards of your Brotherhood!” You snarled.

There was a change in his eyes.

Your instincts kicked in and with the little strength in your legs, you bolted to the door and actually reached it.

But the Reaper’s reflexes were fast, he pushed it shut before you could open it enough and trapped you between his body and the door.

Panicked, you hit him with your elbow and tried to turn around.

He shoved you with your front against the door, and even now he acted like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Shhh… do not fight.”

You wished he wouldn’t feel you tremble, but he was too close not to.

Soran seemingly believed you could be persuaded. “I intend to keep you alive, to offer you an existence outside of locked doors, something the Church will not offer you. All I ask is that you surrender yourself to me.”

It was obvious what he wanted, he had made that very clear these past few days.

And you weren’t willing to have this bastard anywhere near you, let alone carrying his children and letting him have your body to use.

You struggled against his hold. “Go to hell!”

He gave a sneer, “Only the Fey are headed there.”

You gave your own back, “I will do one thing for the Dawn Folk. I will survive you.”

Some of his anger slipped out, he took hold of the back of your head and slammed your temple against the door. Hard.

Right afterwards, while tears began to brim in the corners of your eyes, he acted like it was your fault.

“Stop making me take these measures.” He warned and began to move your vest up.

The panic truly settled in when he touched your lower back and the waistband of your trousers.

No. No. No…

You used the strength of your wrists bound together to try and push back to no avail. “Get off of me!”

He coldly dismissed the protest. “It will not take long, stop struggling.”

It only made you struggle more and than a knife was near your eye.

The bastard threatened, “Remember, I do not need all of you. You do not need your eyes to use your magic or have children.”

Oh, you dearly wished that the knife was in your hands instead, you wouldn’t be threatening…

By trying to hold back tears, you wanted him to know that he wouldn’t break you. Not when his hand groped your chest and not when he tried to take off your trousers.

The fury that flared up inside of you was the thing that kept you from shattering.

He did not care when you began to quietly ask your gods to give you their strength.

Maybe he should have cared.

The voices of the Hidden filled the air and Soran all of a sudden stumbled backwards and away from you.

Their aggressive intervention came with the whisper of your title.

~“Summoner.”~

“What are you doing?!” He regained his footing fast but it was clear that he was in pain.

Was that… panic you saw in his eyes?

You had no idea what was happening or what the Hidden had done.

“Brothers!” He called out, the panic audible in his tone.

Two of them entered the room at his call, quite baffled to see their leader half-buckled over in pain.

“Soran-” One tried to speak.

Fury burned in the Reaper. “Take her back to her cell! Now!”

You heard the Reaper curse as they dragged you out of that room again.

The Hidden had kept their promise to you as a summoner. The ancient power of Festa and Moreii was their gift to your acceptance. And what better use for it than making the Reaper regret all he had done to you.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Hours passed in the cell again, and you were yet to see if it was true that Lancelot was alive. Where were they keeping him? Was there another part to the dungeon you had not seen yet? Or was it a lie the Reaper had told to pacify you?

You still felt his hands on your skin, and in the darkness of the cell you could let the tears flow.

Your shocked state, huddled up in the corner, did not alarm the Brothers who passed.

“They say our leader’s steel is damaged.” One whispered.

Steel?… Oh.

“Do you think… she did it?” The other wondered.

They looked in the direction of your cell with great suspicion.

Good. Let them fear.

The bastards were cruel enough to take the torch that provided little light and moved it to a holder on a wall further away.

Their footsteps rescinded and you heard them close the iron door that led to the stairs.

It was both frightening and comforting to be in the darkness alone. At least they left you alone there.

You leaned your head against the wall, hiding far at the end in a corner of the cell.

Another hour passed, then a Brother came over with a stale looking piece of bread.

“Got you something to eat, Fey.” He put it down on the floor, putting his arm between the bars to do so.

When you gave no response and didn’t even look, the Brother whistled.

His pathetic attempt at comforting could not hide the threat under it. “Come now. It will only get worse for you if you behave like this, Soran can do a lot worse than what he wants to do with you. Give him what he wants.”

You didn’t want to waste the little energy left in you on this bastard and continued to ignore his existence.

The Brother sighed. “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya. All you had to do was open your legs.”

It really made it hard to hold your tongue and not call him every horrible name you could think off.

Your eyes never left that strange dirty spot on the wall.

You heard him take a couple of steps away and past the cell, and then a loud thud, it made you jump a little

You looked and saw the Brother face down on the ground.

The steel of a blade had cut across his neck and send the Brother to the floor whilst he bled out rapidly.

The next thing you registered was a sword sinking down into his back and withdrawing from it.

You had not moved a muscle, like your body was frozen in place.

It was strange to know that you knew who stood in the shadows outside your cell just by the way he walked and moved.

The door of your cell was unlocked seconds later. Your mind was slow to process it all and slowly you rose to stand.

Lancelot stood in the doorway, like something had stopped him.

Even in the dark he could see enough of your face to know that you had been crying. Your eyes were haunting.

He spoke your name, gentle and with relief.

You couldn’t believe the miracle that stood before you.

This was the second time the Ash Man had opened the door to freedom for you, this time you were actually glad to see his face.

And only the heavens knew how it gave you a surge of energy strong enough to cross the small distance and breach the line that had once been.

You reached for his aketon and latched yourself onto him, feeling the warmth of his body and considering it a blessing after having it felt cold and lifeless.

Tears ran their path down your cheeks and unto his clothing. There were things you wished to say, but you couldn’t get a word out.

Never before had he felt arms hold him like this, another being willing to blend into him.

After the cold hold of death he had experienced, the warm hold of life was more than welcome.

The Ash Man’s response was delayed by only seconds, then his arms came around and brought you in closer.

No one had ever held you like this before, in an embrace that felt like it could protect you against the ocean’s strongest wave within a storm, with your head cradled in his hand while he vowed that you would have your freedom again.

You weren’t afraid to hold him tight, murmuring into his shoulder. “The Hidden brought you back to us.”

Lancelot couldn’t stop stroking the back of your head with his fingers. “You brought me back.”

It was your voice he remembered pleading for his life.

He explained how he freed himself, “That hairpin was useful indeed.”

With great reluctance you broke away and took the smallest step back, he took the moment to cut the ropes from your wrists.

You noticed the second sword at his side, “Found those?”

He handed it to you. “One for you. I ‘found’ keys as well.”

He found it all on the one that had been guarding the door to the cell they had kept him in. He could only try to pick the lock when the Brother guarding his cell was asleep. The man was snoring like a boar seconds before he died.

Next thing you knew, Lancelot was steering your chin to the side as his eyes focused on your face, “Did he do that?”

He could see the discoloring on your temple.

It took you a second to realize he must be seeing a bruise from when Soran had slammed your head against the door. “He…”

Your throat tightened like a cord had wrapped around it.

He feared the worst, hot white rage boiled in his veins, “What else did he do?”

“Nothing.” You didn’t know why you lied, maybe because it felt humiliating.

By steering your chin again, he made you look at him as he searched your eyes.

It was that that made you try to tell the truth. “He tried to… but the Hidden helped me.”

You didn’t need to say more, he understood what it had meant.

He cupped your neck, the burning fury carried his vow, “I am going to kill him.”

For now, all you wanted was to leave this place behind. “No. We need to get out of here.”

It was like his mind sprung into action seconds before he did. He took hold of your arm. “Stay close to me.”

You let him lead you out of the cell, it was easy to tell that he had some idea as to where he was going. “Where did they-”

He quickly hushed you before it would alert the enemy.

As you followed him, you had to step over the bodies of the Brothers that had crossed his path whilst he had made his way to your cell.

He plucked a torch from the wall and used it to set fire to the wooden pillars you passed.

“What are you doing?!” You whispered.

Lancelot continued to strategically set them alight. “Burning this fort will force them out and offer distraction.”

He steered you along, and away from the fire.

The keys he had taken from one of them were put to use on a door that lead into a narrow pathway, he locked it behind you. He wasn’t guiding you out of the dungeon the way the Brothers had been doing so.

The pathway ended with another door and opened to a dungeon where many rodents had their home.

It looked far worse than the one you had been kept in.

He shared a look, and while passing a cell he pointed to the dead Brother he had left inside of it.

They had kept him there…

You gave a look that told him you understood.

A vague sound came from the direction you had come from, then a loud bang was heard. They were trying to break through the doors that had been locked to keep the flames behind you.

“They know.” Lancelot said and urged you to follow.

He walked faster and led you to a narrow stairwell. You followed him up the steps, sensing he no longer knew where to head now.

He searched through the keys to find the one that would open the gate at the top of the steps and let the two of you out of the dungeon. He was visibly stressed.

You touched his arm, hoping it would calm him somewhat.

Lancelot took a deep breath and focused on the keys, finally finding the right one that unlocked the gate.

It was impossible to ignore how many times he had touched your arm now, as if he constantly feared that you would disappear from his side.

Oh, how things had changed. Once you had hated this, now if felt quite nice.

Past the gate it was a completely different world to be in. The fort was warmer than the dungeon below, but it was also swarming with members of the Brotherhood and you knew that any loud sound could cost you your freedom again or worse.

He wanted to turn to a hallway on the right but you stopped him, that one lead to the large stairs that they had dragged you up to bring you to that bedchamber.

You could see him take a deep breath through his nose.

If he could smell a breeze that would lead him the way to an exit…

Lancelot tilted his head, deciding to take the route ahead instead.

The urge to run out of there was strong, but it would make too much sound. The only thing you could do was walk faster than usual. A door was opened in the distance, Lancelot quickly opened one nearby and upon finding the room empty he moved you with him inside of it.

It was pitch dark inside, the only shimmer of light came from the torchlight passing under the door.

The both of you stood against it and listened.

A group didn’t walk by, they ran by. They must be on their way to the dungeons to find you and help their Brothers.

Lancelot waited a few seconds longer, than opened the door again.

The plan was to continue the path ahead, but there were so many voices coming from there that you pulled him into the direction you had come from.

He took the torches off the wall and set the large curtains in the hallway alight.

You pulled a curtain down and draped it on the floor across the width of the hallway, “Put the torch to it, it will give us time.”

Smart.

He set fire to the curtain on the floor, and then followed your lead.

You remembered a little from the path to that bedchamber, there had been two other stairwells, one that led up and one that led down.

The size of the stairs took up the width of the entire hallway. Such a big fort must have multiple exists, there had to be.

Once up the higher floor, you hurried to the stairwells that were right next to each other.

You were about to begin descending the ones leading down, when you heard voices coming from below.

Lancelot shared a look with you, you were already rushing over to the curtains and pulling one down while he took a torch again.

You let some of the curtain drape over the first few steps, than he put to torch to it.

The castle was already starting to smell of smoke, the old wooden floor would not survive for long.

Lancelot took you by the hand and pulled you up the stairwell that went a floor higher again. “I can smell the sea.”

That meant you were close to getting out of there…

At the top of the stairwell was a heavy wooden door and you could hear the sea at the other side of it.

None of the keys he had on hand worked and the two of you ended up having to use your swords to get the door to budge, then Lancelot put his shoulder against the door a couple of times and broke it down.

Heavy wind and rain almost pushed the door shut in your face again, luckily the Ash Man anticipated it and kept it open. He let you step outside first and you couldn’t care less that the rain was enough to soak through your clothes in minutes.

The rain mixed with the dried blood on Lancelot’s aketon and cloak. The moonlight was the only thing offering light, the sea around you would have appeared as a black abyss otherwise. You were at the top of the castle’s keep, fear had no place in you anymore when hearing the sound of the sea around you and the wind going through your clothes.

Fire was breaking through the windows in multiple places throughout the castle and it was spreading with aggression. For a moment you wondered if the flames were somehow connected to the one who had created them. If the Hidden made your healing magic stronger, who was to say that they did not make their summoner of the Ash Folk stronger as well?

Lancelot stood not far from you, his eyes fixed on the flames down below.

You faintly heard the Hidden, and deep down you knew that the flames were not just born from fire, but from fury as well.

While you were looking around to reach the alure of the castle walls, the heavy door Lancelot had shut behind him was kicked open.

The Reaper had managed to avoid the flames that had begun to fill the hallway where his bedchamber was located, by fleeing for his life he had chosen the same route you had taken.

The sword was already in Soran’s hand, still he seemed surprised to see you and Lancelot there.

Immediately, Lancelot stepped in front of you.

This bastard would have to crawl over his corpse before he would ever get to lay a hand on you again.

The Reaper watched the flames destroy his Brotherhood, then looked at the one responsible for it. “If Father Carden had seen this, he would have given the order for your execution himself.”

Lancelot fought back the response it caused in him and spoke to you over his shoulder, “Go. I’ll distract him.”

You weren’t going to leave his side again, especially not when he was facing the Reaper in battle. “No.”

There was a sword in your hand, you weren’t running from this.

Soran offered a chance to the Ash Man, “Hand her over and I will see past this.”

Lancelot scoffed, a wry smile formed. “I will not.”

The coldness in the Ash Man’s tone put ice to shame.

Soran took some steps closer. “I only offer, because I know how she will suffer once I kill you. Permanently, this time.”

Even now, he was trying to blackmail others into submission, while his fort was burning to the ground and none of his Brothers were there to aid him. The confidence the Reaper displayed worried you, he showed no fear.

Soran got closer, warning you of what it meant to fight him, “I have trained the strongest of men, the Trinity Guard’s skill is no match for the Brotherhood and neither is yours, Brother.”

“I am not your ‘Brother’!” Lancelot’s tone was sharp.

The Reaper spun the sword in his hand. “You’re right. You betrayed us and now you will suffer the consequences of it.”

Lancelot did not let Soran get closer and faced the inevitable battle head on.

You knew he was doing it to try and keep Soran at a distance from you. The Ash Man was walking to the blade to protect you from the monster that wielded it…

Lancelot was the first to lunge and saw Soran move skillfully to avoid the blade.

The Reaper was not the sort to fight fair, the knives he carried on him weren’t there for decoration, he drew one and tried to cut Lancelot’s arm with it.

It was anticipated by the Ash Man, he had seen him reach for it and punched Soran in the jaw after avoiding the knife.

He had to duck to avoid Soran’s sword cutting off his head, the bastard did manage to land a kick against his stomach that send him stumbling back.

You attacked the Reaper, aiming to disarm him.

Soran blocked your sword with his, but you took him off-guard by striking him across the face with your fist.

He hooked his sword with yours, forcing you closer and then he moved his elbow in a quick motion, it struck your jaw and nose.

Only a few ‘things’ of you were necessary to him, others could be damaged… he had been truthful about that.

That blow to the face landed you on the ground, leaving you disoriented for a moment.

Liquid ran over your lips and you realized blood was running down from your nose.

The fight was still going on and you pushed yourself to your feet, feeling some vertigo hit as you did.

Soran was trying to get Lancelot closer to the edge of the keep, undoubtedly to make him fall. He attacked Lancelot, using the sword as a distraction to aim the knife for the heart of the Ash Man again.

Lancelot was strong enough to grab Soran’s arm to prevent it, but the Reaper took solace with sinking the knife into his shoulder instead.

He gave Soran a push, who left the knife lodged where it was.

You saw Lancelot pull the knife out of his shoulder. The knife was worse enough, but you saw where he was standing.

You ran up to the Reaper, sensing what he was about to do.

That rotten filth had lunged at Lancelot with the sword, Lancelot blocked it with ease, but he could not defend himself against the second kick he got from the Reaper.

He lost his footing and stumbled backwards. As a last effort to save himself from falling down to the rocks below, Lancelot held on to the edge of the keep with his hands.

Dangling from the wall, he had little chance to pull himself up again, Soran was quick to go and step on his hand so it would let go.

You charged at Soran and slammed your body into his side to knock him over, when he hit the ground you reached for Lancelot’s arm to help.

You had only took hold of his arm for a few seconds when you were ripped away from him by the Reaper who pulled you away from the edge.

He clearly didn’t want to risk you falling to your death. “Stay away from the edge, you are still needed.”

You elbowed him in the side and broke free, only to be grabbed by him again.

He held on while you struggled against him. “I will let you watch how the Weeping Monk shatters his skull on the rocks below!”

The Reaper was determined in not letting you escape from his sight and steered you with him to where Lancelot was hanging on for dear life.

And then Soran saw that the Ash Man was no longer hanging on to the edge.

Soran had made the mistake of turning his back on Lancelot, his priority should have been with him, not you.

You knew that there wasn’t enough time for you to pull Lancelot to safety, but what you could do was touch his arm and heal his injuries, making him strong enough again to save himself.

Then all that need to be done was distract the Reaper to buy him time. To move in Soran’s grasp so he would not be facing the edge.

Soran must have thought Lancelot had fallen, because it took him three counts before the truth of the matter set in and he realized he had been tricked.

Lancelot’s sword came down on Soran’s arm, and severed his lower arm from his elbow.

It fell to the ground at your feet and you instantly felt the hold on you disappear.

You broke free and created a distance.

The sight of the severed arm did shake your stomach a bit.

Without a sword, and horribly wounded, Soran was powerless when Lancelot stabbed him through the heart.

Lancelot twisted the blade and then withdrew it.

The blood mixed with the rain and it made for a gruesome sight.

Soran fell down next to his arm, and his dying breaths told you that he was choking on his own blood.

The silence that soon followed felt strange. You never thought you would be looking down at the Reaper’s corpse one day.

Lancelot stopped in front of you and wrapped a hand around your upper arm, then he moved closer, “Are you hurt?”

You could only shake your head, to lost for words by what had transpired.

Something on the ground reflected in the moonlight.

Soran’s ring…

“That ring… if we show it to the Fey…” You offered him the idea.

With the ring, they would be more inclined to believe him when he would tell them he had killed the Reaper.

Lancelot went over to retrieve the ring from the severed arm, while focusing his thoughts on something else and not on the fact that he was stealing from the dead.

He pocketed the ring and came back to you. “We need to go.”

You agreed with him on that and together you made your way over to the alure of the castle walls in search of a safe way down to ground. From the direction you were heading into, shouts were heard. You shared a look with Lancelot, knowing that the way back only led to fire.

He knew what had do be done to survive, “We have to jump.”

It was a long fall down into the sea and you weren’t keen on that plan at all, “Are you bloody mad?!”

Lancelot sheathed his sword, took you by the arm and steered you to the edge of the wall in between the battlements. “We jump or we die.”

Even his own faith in the plan seemed to falter for a blink when looking down at the sea that was only illuminated by the full moon.

The voices sounded closer, this had to be done.

“Dammit…” You cursed and sheathed your sword too. “You first?”

Lancelot managed to grin. “You lead, I follow.”

Oh, so now he had no problem with someone else taking charge.

“You’d better.” You warned and stepped to the edge.

It took a lot of your courage to make the jump into the depths below.

The fall went faster than you had anticipated and you hit the water, you swam to the surface right away.

Just as you reached the surface, the Ash Man hit the water on your right.

It were a couple of worrisome seconds until he came above the water as well.

Together you swam to shore and were grateful that the sea was calm compared to the rain and wind.

You crawled unto the sand, tired from the healing and the swim.

Even Lancelot struggled to get to his feet, when he did he looked back and saw the castle burning like the sun in the night sky.

You looked as well, seeing the flames claim all of the fort without mercy.

A deep sigh of relief left you, and for a moment all you focused on was the water moving around your body whilst laying in the sand.

A castle burning in the midst of night was sure to draw attention.

There was no time to rest. Some of the Brotherhood would escape the flames.

Lancelot held out a hand for you to take. “We have to leave this place. Others will see the flames from afar.”

You sighed and let him help you up, vertigo set in again and you had to lean into his side to keep yourself steady.

He did not complain, your magic had been what saved him, “Can you still walk?”

“Depends on how far we are talking about.” You admitted, “Did they take Goliath when they took you?”

He shook his head. “I send him away before they could try to take him too.”

In other words, you had no horse.

Lancelot didn’t let the newfound hope escape. “There have to be horses nearby. They brought us here on wagons…”

“Use your nose?” You made the suggestion.

He deadpanned. “Hard to smell anything besides the ashes in the air.”

Still, he tried to inhale deep and slow a couple of times.

After coughing the scent of smoke out of his lungs, he said, “I can smell a stable.”

“You can smell the wood and horses?” You frowned while letting him help you walk.

An actual chuckle fell from him, light as air, “I can smell the manure, and now with the rain the scent is strong.”

Gods, and you had even asked him to smell it…

The small laugh escaping you felt wonderful. “Lovely.”

His chuckling increased until he composed himself. He helped you walk over the rocks that had washed ashore over time. All of a sudden he stopped you and turned you to look at him, before you could question it, he made you tilt your head backwards to inspect the damage to your nose.

“I wish I could heal you.” He stated and let go, something akin of remorse was in his eyes.

You wouldn’t hear it, he had done more than enough. “I will live. Don’t you worry about me, Ash Man.”

It was one of the few things he could not do.

The sound of horses neighing reached your ears, they must have noticed the fire too. Lancelot helped you walk towards the sound until the vertigo you felt lessened. The sight of the burning fort against the dark sky and between the rain and wind was imposing.

You found the stables at the beginning of the stone pathway that had led to the fort. A wagon with horse stood outside of it and you left Lancelot’s side to go to the poor animal waiting for it’s rider alone.

Lancelot walked by and went into the stables. “Call out if you see or hear anything.”

You gave a nod, and saw how the horse was clearly glad to see someone.

He had left the door of the stables open, a few horses suddenly darted out and headed for the woods. You looked and saw that there were still other horses inside of the stables and that the Ash Man was cutting their reins loose. He was freeing them. Once he was done, Lancelot came out of the stables and joined you by the wagon.

This wagon equipped with a bonnet would be very useful, especially in this weather.

“We are taking the wagon?” You guessed his plan.

He gave a nod, “I’ll ride.” And steered you to the back of the wagon. “Up you go. Careful.”

You almost envied how energetic he was from the healing he had received from you twice, because you barely managed to get yourself up on the wagon, it took two attempts.

On the second attempt, he offered his shoulder for you to use and supported your elbow with one hand while using his other to make sure you didn’t fall.

And that was where it got him into trouble…

His hand was on your back until you were halfway up the wagon. And his attention had been on getting you safely onto the wagon, not on where his hand landed next.

When you felt it touch your rear, you were on that wagon in a blink.

The last thing he wanted was to make you think it was on purpose, that he would use the situation to…

He quickly began to apologize, “Forgive me, I did not mean to-”

You stopped him. “I know.”

The experience with the Reaper was still fresh on your mind, and you could not hide the look in your eyes from the Ash Man. Your mind had went back to the moment, and it took you a few seconds to feel Lancelot’s eyes on your face.

Not a word was shared when you looked at him, he knew…

With some reluctance, he stepped away from the back of the wagon and headed to the front.

You saw him climb up into the seat and take the reins, “Have you ever rode a wagon before?”

No…

“Do not worry.” He eased your mind while trying to sound confident.

He would do the worrying on his own.

Luckily, some of the wagon’s bonnet covered him from the rain as well.

And by the answer, you knew it would be an interesting ride.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

#the weeping monk #lancelot #weeping monk #cursed netflix #weeping monk x reader #cursed #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

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Betrayal

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: It must have all been too good to be true, it must have been a joke to him, because you don’t hurt someone the way he did. You don’t betray the woman you love this way, and yet in some sick and twisted way, he did, and that was the end of your happily ever after

Warnings: Angst, Infidelity, Swearing, No happy ending

A/N: I love angst but hate no happy endings, which is funny cause here’s a fic with no happy ending LMFAO I hope you guys enjoy this and the next few fics I get out tonight, so here we go, a lil short but I tend not to write long fics…yet….

Word Count: 775

It was quite comical in this moment, the thought that giving your all in a relationship for 4 years would be enough, that putting all your love into this one person would keep infidelity and lies away. You shared a home, laughter, memories that all of a sudden crumbled into pieces like the lamp you’d thrown across the room moments ago, as nothing but rage blinded you. You stared at Chris as he looked back at you, his eyes red and tired, and in other circumstances you would have probably given a shit, but right now, you hated his guts

“I don’t know why you’ve taken me to be a fucking idiot, but to say I’m surprised right now, is the understatement of the century.”

He nodded taking one step closer

“You’re not an idiot ba-“

“Do not fucking call me that, you lost that right when you slept with another woman.”

You scoffed shaking your head incredulously at the seemingly pure disregard to the severity of the situation on Chris’s part. The man you’d moved across the country for not the man you thought he was at all

“Did you even stop and think of me at all? Of the girlfriend you had a home? The woman who moved across the god damn fucking country for you Christopher?!”

Your voice resonated off the living room walls, blood boiling, eyes seeing red, you were fed up with him and this bullshit of a relationship you had formed and when he didn’t answer you, the anger seemed to die down just enough for you to feel the hurt and sadness climbing up your throat

“I left my family, my job, my friends, I left everything behind because I loved you and wanted to be with you and you can’t even look me in the eyes and tell me if you even thought about me before fucking her.”

He looked down, running his hands along his face while letting out a sigh

“I don’t know what I was thinking okay. I fucked up, I messed up and I know I can’t take it back, but I cannot lose you, I can fix this, I can work on things, I can do whatever you want.”

You laughed tears lining your eyes

“I want you to go to hell, and never contact me again. I’m leaving now, and lucky for you, I’m already packed. So, I hope she was worth it to you, I don’t have time to be with a man who’s still in his frat boy days and can’t settle down. You can have a midlife crisis alone, you can say you want something serious with someone else because we both know you don’t, instead of being a man and letting me know, you decided to destroy me to have what you really want in life Chris, and that’s a simple no strings attached hook up.”

You turned grabbing your purse and keys, taking off his house key and the extra key to Lisa’s, placing them down on the table in the hallway, sniffling quietly as you attempted to hold the waterworks back

“Don’t contact me, don’t follow me, we are done, I will never give you another chance, I hate you with everything in me Chris, I can’t believe I wasted 4 years of my life for this bullshit. I hope you’re happy.”

Without letting him say another word you opened the front door and walked out, slamming it behind you and making a beeline to your car. Throwing everything in the passenger seat when you got in, you didn’t allow yourself to cry until you pulled out of the driveway. The house you used to love, the house you dreamed of having little kids running around fading into the distance as you hightailed it to the freeway. Four years of nothing but love and support only to end in a pain you couldn’t even describe, the pain of friends being right in saying he’d break your heart. What celebrity would ever stay with you long term, especially one with a track record of sleezy hookups despite wanting something ‘real’ and ‘meaningful’ what a fucking joke. Unfortunately for him, you’d never let him walk all over you, you’d never forgive him, he was dead to you, all you needed to do now was get the hell out of Boston and start over. You knew it would hurt for a while, and even through the tears spilling down your face, you knew brighter days would come for you, even if it did rain for a little while, you would get through this, one step at a time.

#chrisevans #chrisevansxreader #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #rueswrites #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans x you #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction

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whump-tr0pes · 7 months

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Breakfast, Part 1

Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations, and many apologies to them as well for holding onto this story for so many months while waiting for me to finish it.

My masterlist

Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.

“It is your part to kill me, mine to die without flinching.”

— Epictetus, from Discourses (Translated by Robert Dobbin)

Contents: captivity, conditioned whumpee, past drugging, thoughts of death, past torture

There were footsteps in the hallway. Morja was instantly awake, eyes wide open, back ramrod straight as he sat up. He stared at the door from his sleeping spot on the floor, doing his best to stop trembling before the anóteros of the family - Gray, they told him to call them Gray - came in. They’d done that every morning for the past five mornings now, taking away his bucket of waste, bringing him something delicious for breakfast. It made Morja’s stomach flip with shame to be served in such a way, and by the anóteros no less. If his owner benefactor heard of this, he would be whipped for his insolence. He was still waiting to be whipped now.

He was waiting for worse things than a whipping. He was waiting for drugs in the food, but not a single meal had left him sick, or weak, or unconscious, or in pain. Perhaps it was a slow poison that would work through his body over weeks rather than hours, but Morja couldn’t see the sense in that. Morja had puzzled over it in the days that he had had to himself; when this family had Isaac Moore - whom Morja now knew was a diathésimos like himself - at their disposal, why would they not use him to put Morja down like the threat that he was? Why would they waste their food, their space, their time on him when they were planning on killing him anyway? The time he could understand, even though it made him sick with terror: the time was to break him. The time was only the first step in the torture. But why was the food not drugged? His own anóteros drugged his food. How could this family of criminals, traitors, murderers do less?

The door handle turned, and he shuffled to his knees, just like he had every morning since he’d been locked in this room. And, just like every other morning, he slid his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together to keep them from shaking. He kept his eyes riveted to the carpet just in front of his knees as the door opened.

“Good morning, Morja,” Gray said gently. They stopped at the door.

Morja froze. So the torture would begin in earnest today, then. Starting with going without food. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to blow out a slow, even breath. “G-good morning, anó– Gray.” He must still be polite, even though he was terrified. His anóteros had made sure he could do that.

Still, he was thirsty. It had taken so little time for him to become soft, after having been given food and water so frequently. Morja’s eyes opened again, as he began to see the plan laid out in front of him. He wondered of Gavin Stormbeck had concocted it, or if the entire family was gifted in the art of torture.

“I’m going to stop whatever thought process you’re so clearly lost in right now,” Gray said, their voice soft. Morja braced for whatever blow was coming. “You’re still being fed. You’re still getting water.”

Morja blinked, swallowed. His eyes flicked up towards Gray. His stomach lurched as he realized Gray was the only one standing in the door.

Where is Isaac Moore?

Gray was already speaking again. “What I wanted to ask, without Isaac here, so you wouldn’t feel pressured either way,” they said, “Was whether you would care to join us all for breakfast?” Gray shrugged. “In the dining room?”

Morja shivered as he tried to decipher the meaning behind Gray’s words. He had been tied to a chair and interrogated in the dining room the first night he had been in this house - perhaps Gray was playing a game with him, trying to get him to agree to another interrogation for their own amusement. Or perhaps they simply wanted to move him to another part of the house under false pretenses. Morja was in a reasonably defensible position in this room, and that might be the case. Or perhaps…

Morja swallowed hard, desperately hoping he was not playing into some sick game by guessing. “To… to serve you? Anóteros?”

The corner of Gray’s mouth turned down, and Morja knew he had guessed wrong. He shuddered and bowed his head low to the floor.

“No, Morja,” Gray rasped, holding their hands out to the side. “No, it’s like I told you… We don’t want anything like that from you. I was wondering if you would like to… eat with us. At the table, instead of in this room. That’s all. Not serving us. Just as an equal.”

“Equal…” Morja croaked, staring at his knees. He realized he had spoken out loud and closed his mouth with a snap.

“Yes,” Gray said, sounding tired. “Is that… something you would like? If that would frighten you too much, I understand, but… I think it might be nice.”

Morja’s hands were shaking behind his head. Isaac Moore would be out there, and Gavin Stormbeck. But if he didn’t go… If he displeased this anóteros, and didn’t go…

He swallowed bile, swallowed his fear. He drew in a quavering breath and slowly, slowly let his hands fall until they pressed into the carpet in front of him. “Yes,” he murmured, nodding jerkily. “Yes, if it would… please you, anóteros, I’ll do it.”

“It would please me for you to be free,” Gray said with a tone that Morja didn’t recognize. “And this, I think, is a good first step. Let’s see how this goes.” They took a step into the hall and waited for Morja to get to his feet before they started walking towards the dining room. Morja fell into step behind them. They had their back to him as they walked, he realized with a start.

He could kill them, if he wanted to. It would be so, so easy. They towered over him, but he was strong, packed with muscle, as hard-won as his scars. A kick to the back of the knee, and his hands could close around their neck, or he could bash their head against the wall. He didn’t need a weapon. He was the weapon, and he could kill this traitor, just like he had been trained to. Just like his anóteros had commanded him, just like it had been beaten trained into him for years. Isaac wasn’t here with his gun. Morja could do it, and then go find Gavin Stormbeck to complete his mission. It could be over in a second.

Morja’s hands shook as he clenched them into fists.

But Gray trusted him. They had to, or they would never do something so foolish. Morja couldn’t understand why Gray would turn their back to an enemy, someone they knew had been sent to kill one of their own. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. He forced his hands to open at his sides. He stared at Gray’s back, brow furrowed as his chest ached with an emotion he couldn’t name.

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump , @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @thatsthewhump , @orchidscript , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @cinnamonflavoredhugs , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @annablogsposts , @suspicious-whumping-egg

#honor bound au #morja and company #athena/raye crossover #captivity #conditioned whumpee #past drugging #thoughts of death #past torture

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coraniaid · 7 months

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Anne is such a well constructed episode. It’s not the best season opener (that’s Bargaining) and it’s not my favorite season opener (probably When She Was Bad), and if you’re feeling cynical you could argue it’s at least partly a pilot for the Angel spin-off series in disguise (since … it is?), but it’s just so well put together and full of so much foreshadowing and symbolism and references to previous episodes. I really like it and I really liked rewatching it, almost more than I was expecting to.

The last time I watched it I remember being annoyed by the fact it didn’t focus entirely on Buffy in LA. I thought the scenes set back in Sunnydale were a distraction from her story: I don’t care about Xander and Cordelia’s relationship and I don’t care about the Scoobies' attempt to stake one very obliging random vampire. And yet, for some reason, this time around I felt a lot better disposed to this half of the episode. I do still think it would have been interesting to have a whole episode away from Buffy’s friends, and that the Sunnydale plotline is a lot less intense than what’s going on in LA. But I think it’s a mistake to conclude the scenes in Sunnydale are a waste of time or don’t do something important.

The juxtaposition between a Buffyless Sunndale and a Buffy who’s stopped being Buffy felt a lot more deliberate this time around, whether that meant cutting directly to Buffy’s dream about Angel after Willow said she wished she knew where she was, or the way the big, noisy crowd at the first day of school hard cuts to Buffy sitting alone in silence in her tiny rented room, or Joyce asking Giles “and who exactly is she?” right before Lily comes back to the diner to ask Buffy for help. And, having set up this pattern, the fact that we never once cut back to Sunnydale while Buffy and Lily are trapped in the hell dimension suddenly feels weirdly claustrophobic, and makes that final jump back to Joyce at home at the end work a lot better than it otherwise would.

I also really really like Lily. As Chanterelle in Lie To Me she wasn’t really given much to do, but Julia Lee is really good here as – not quite a proto-Faith, but another alternate Buffy who’s quietly hinted to have a pretty horrible backstory. That pause after Buffy asks her “what do they call you at home?” speaks volumes, as does the way she assures Buffy she wouldn’t tell anyone about who she is or where to find her because “I know how it is when you’ve got to get lost”, or how quickly she resigns herself to believing they’re in hell later because she “always knew she belonged here”.

And, almost at the same time, she’s also a great comic foil (asking Buffy if she can “come with her” right after agreeing that they should split up, or coming back to apologize to her when she's meant to be getting away "in case we die"). I love that she gets to push Ken off the balcony mid-speech (in fact, I almost think the episode would be stronger if that really was the last we saw of Ken: I’m not sure his reappearance later just to be killed by Buffy herself really adds much). And I love the argument about Rickie’s death (that isn’t really about Rickie) that she has with Buffy: “he didn’t do anything wrong, why would this happen to him?” versus “These things happen all the time. You can’t just close your eyes and hope they’re going to go away.”

I really like the fact that Lily (as Anne Steele) goes on to be a minor character on Angel, but I do wish we’d had some hint that Buffy really had stayed in touch with her after this episode the way she promises she will. Once again I am imploring the Buffy writers, decades after the fact, to please let Buffy have a few more friends.

(Oh, and, look: neither Buffy nor Lily get magically pregnant and die this episode! The possibility doesn’t even come up! Maybe this wasn’t a stealth Angel pilot after all...)

And I've not even touched on the wonderfully unsubtle foreshadowing of Ken’s repeated lines about kids “getting old fast here”, or the way this episode almost acts as a proto-Bargaining (with Willow very clearly taking charge of the group in Buffy’s absence, even taking on the Slayer role in the pre-credits scene), or Oz throwing his stake at a retreating vampire and then ruefully noting that “that just never works” as it bounces harmlessly wide, or just how much everyone in Sunnydale seems to miss Buffy in their own different ways, or Larry insisting this is the football team’s year if only they can “keep discipline, maintain focus and not have quite so many mysterious deaths”. Or that last shot of Buffy back home, and how it’s deliberately framed from her mom's perspective rather than her own.

Honestly, I just think Season 3 is so good and I love it so much (I furiously remind myself, knowing that Dead Man’s Party is up next and will try its best to convince me I’m wrong…)

#btvs #buffy rewatch 2023

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marchtomydrums · 9 months

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I’ll never let you fall.

Cordelia Goode x Mina Venable x Billie dean Howard x Reader

* Hi guys! I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been really sick. In and out of the hospital and recently had to get a biopsy done and waiting on the results. So I will try to get up some more stories soon. Hope you enjoy this one.*

Mina walks into the cozy house releasing a quiet sigh of relief that the day is done and over. She shrugs off her jacket and drops her Keyes and purse on the table before walking into the living room.

There she finds Billie reading quietly on the couch.

“Hello, darling,” Mina calls out to her.

“Hello. How was your day?”

“Ugh.” the redhead grunts as she takes a seat next to Billie.

“I’m sorry doll. At least you’re home now.” The blonde says softly caressing Mina’s arm.

The redhead hums in agreement leaning into her touch.

“Cordelia is going to be late,” Billie tells her.

“Is she still trying to find a cure for y/n?”

“Yeah…

She’s wasting time. We need to spend whatever we have left with her.”

“Don’t talk like that! She’s not going to die, Billie.”

“You don’t know that Mina! She’s sick and while Cordelia’s efforts to cure her are honorable she’s isolating herself from y/n.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” Mina says in an annoyed tone as she pulls away from Billie.

Out of the three of them, Mina was still very much in denial about everything.

“Where is she anyway?” she asked looking around the house.

“She’s in the office building the new Lego set I brought her.”

“I don't understand why she's obsessed with a toy for children and why you indulge her,” Mina said rolling her eyes.

“It makes her happy and I won’t deny her any joy.” The blonde says.

“I suppose you’re right.” Mina sighs.

Mina gets up and walks towards the back of the house to the small office down the hall. It’s typically shared by all four of you but since you’ve been sick you’ve been using it primarily to build the Lego sets Billie buys you.

The redhead stops at the doorframe as she watches you silently. It’s only been a couple of months since your diagnosis but your body is already taking a toll. Your skin was lighter almost white compared to its original color. Your body is frail and small and dark circles formed underneath your eyes. For once the redhead actually stopped at looked at you and this caused tears to prick Mina’s eyes.

You noticed her watching you in the corner and decided once you were done to look up. You flash a bright smile her way.

“Hi, Mina.”

“Hello, my love.” She says with a small smile.

“I finished it you want to see?” You asked.

The redhead nods as she walks towards you. She settles behind the chair you’re sitting in as she looks down at your project.

“It’s beautiful what is it?”

“It’s a miniature version of the castle at Disney World. Billie got it for me because she knows how much I love Disney.” You said with a smile.

“What will your next project be?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.”

“I’m sure you will think of something,” she says kissing the top of your head.

“Are you alright today Mina? You look sad.”

“I’m fine love. Just fine. How about we go cuddle and look for your next project?” she suggested.

“Really?”

She nods.

“Okay!” You smiled getting up to stand next to her. Unfortunately, you got up too quickly causing a sudden but small state of dizziness for yourself.

“Careful my love,” Mina says as she grabs onto you.

“Sorry. Head rush.”

“It’s quite alright dear I would have caught you.”

“I know you'd never let me fall.”

“Never,” she says softly.

You both share a smile and a quiet moment together. You can tell Mina is sad and you're pretty sure you know why. All of your girlfriends have had the same look in their eyes since you've been diagnosed. However, Mina has been the only one to treat you the same as she did before and for that you were grateful.

You smile as you lean in to kiss her lips softly. “I love you, Mina.”

“I love you too little one. Come on let's go cuddle.”

#lgbtq #wlw #writing #fiction #television #age difference #poly representation #cordelia goode x reader #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #billie dean howard #wilhemina x reader #sickness

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heart-cream · 2 years

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𝘼 𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙎𝙀!

Fishl!reader angst with obey me!and yes you will infact have your real name as mc but your fake name will be f/n!

Btw f!reader,sfw

Warnings: bullying,dying and just the brothers being mean:( also I dont reccomend reading if you dont play genshin since its lowkey confusing.

As usual you were walking around with oz rambling about something. When you passed out. Your vision stabbing your back when you awoke.

"Welcome to the devildom mc!" A man with red haired yelled.

"HOW DARE YOU ADRESS THE PRINZESSIN LIKE THIS?PLUS MY NAMES f/n!" You yelled while putting your hand behind your back to see your vision still there 'oh thank barbatos..'

"𝙊𝙕 𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙔𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙁!"

Suddenly a purple bird appeared and started throwing electro balls everywhere while mc-I mean f/n was putting electro in her bow and shooting it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Hehe what a normie introduction!" A man with purple said.

"What type of clothes is that? Should I copy it?"said a man with salmon pink hair said.

"How pointless of us being here is" said a blonde man

Why didnt I leave right then and there?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Why? Did I stay? The tsl incident,almost dying from Lucifer,getting threatend into a pact.

Now I'm being choked here.....

*Recap*

"Why don't you give me a hug?"said the 7th brother.

"Haha prinzessin's dont hug people!" F/n exclaimed.

Right before belphegor tackled them.

"Hehahhahaaa humans were always soooooo~ weak and fragile." He sang

F/n crawled away before standing up with limp.

"WINGS OF DARKNESS!"

F/n disappeared before showing up as a bird while oz tried his best to attack belphegor it wasn't enough. It ended up with him watching his mein fraulein die. In front of him. Her strongest warrior...... has failed her.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡aftermath!"♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Mc I do think it's time for you to grow up and stop pretending your f/n from that stupid fairytale." Lucifer said with annoyance

"Mein fraulein is no fake she is f/n stop it"oz tried to defend you.

IT HAPPEND SO DAMN OFTEN!

Everytime..

"Ugh stop being so childish and grow up! You have the beauty so why waste!?" Asmo yelled.

"Will you just shut up!? I'm trying to sleep here!" Belphie yelled

"Ugh mc stop that stupid act!" Satan yelled

"Normie I'm gaming go away!" Leviathen said to you.

Right now the same thing is happening. But something's different.

"Mc please focus and stop talking about your made up kingdom" lucifer said to you at the student council meeting.

"Mein fraulein-" oz got cut off by you.

"No Its fine oz i knew one day i would have to finally grow up. You can just call me mc now....." you said while taking off your eyepatch. While oz simply stares at you for the first time you didnt call yourself the prinzessin der Verurteilung. You said mc.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡later on♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Yo f/n!wanna go to the theatres?" Mammon asked. You turned to him while staring at your vision in your hand.

"No....my names mc not f/n." You said while holding back tears still in your prinzessin outfit. The last time you would be seen wearing that.

"Ehhhhh?????w'dya mean human?" Mammon said shocked.

"Exactly what I meant mammon." You said making mammon even more shocked you didnt say 'devoted follower of the prinzessin' you actually used his name?....

Mammon walked backwards of your room and shut the door.

You stared at the vision. The vision that granted you elemental powers,the vision that gave you oz and the vision that was slowly killing you.....

After that day everything changed....

You didnt call yourself the prinzessin der Verurteilung anymore no...you said mc! You started wearing more neutral colors and stopped wearing your bat boots along with making your vision look like a necklace.

You weren't so lively anymore you didnt ramble on your life but kept to yourself Quietly.

But days and days pass and you've fallen sick.

"Oz?" "Yes mein fraulein?" "Am I dying?" "...." "I'll take that as a yes. I knew that the vision would be my downfall." You said while tears fell from your face. You never grew up. You stayed your age forever. The body of an adult the mind of a child.

Days pass...

"Hey do you guys wanna hang out?" You said to them

"Sorry mc I'm busy."

"Ugh stop being so clingy normie!"

"Please be quiet"

"Another day."

You finally gave up and went to the human world with oz. To hang out with friends but this time with your prinzessin outfit on. You enjoyed being able to act normally

"Hehe be careful on your trips f/n!" Said one of the adventures from the guild.

"Haha...the prinz..eshin....will .neverrr....fail.." you said before passing out.

You were announced dead at the hospital along with oz passing with you and with your vison.

☆☆☆☆☆☆IN THE DEVILDOM☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Have any of you guys seen mc?" One brother asked another "nope" every one said. You've been missing for the past month same with oz.

Ring!

It was your number? "Hello this is lucifer speaking?" "Ah hello your in one of f/ns emergency contacts. I've called to inform you that f/n has passed away the guild has barley figured out her password and found you in the contacts. Oz had passed along with her. If you wish to know her vision was slowly killing her." One of the guilf members said on the phone.

Dead silence...

"Alright thank you for calling me to inform me have a good day." Lucifer said before ending the call.

Some brothers were in shock while some started to cry into their hand..

The hand you once held.

"𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝘼 𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙎𝙀!!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hey yall thoughts? First time writing for obey me😭✌ anyways yes idk what to write here

#obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me angst #crossover #obey me x reader #obey me x genshin #obey me mc #obey me requests #om! belphie #om! lucifer #om! diavolo #om! mc #om! simeon #obey me fluff

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imagine-silk · 9 months

Text

Christmas Office Party

》 WIP for the Miguel's Secretary story, one of the little parts that is mostly inconsequential and will be expanded. Also trans flag snowflakes because I found them.

You never quite liked secret Santa, it would be infinitely better if you got someone and they knew so you could get them something they wanted instead of shooting in the dark or getting them a gag gift. But as luck would have it there was an office secret Santa and there was an uneven number so you had to join. Luckily, Miles wasn't too hard to shop for. A few color pencils would have done it but you weren't that cheap, especially for him. That and it wouldn't do for an office setting.

He unwrapped it and was kind of confused before he thanked the room for whoever gave him the briefcase. You chimed in and said he should open it effectively outing yourself, you didn't care in the slightest. The look on his face was priceless. Miles was an adult, sure, but you knew the look of a kid at the tree in the morning. The sense of pride almost made you brag so you took a drink of your eggnog.

When Hobie's turn came it was really nice. It was a bunch of little things, jacket pins, guitar picks, black things, silver things, even a loc needle. He was genuinely surprised before his smile turned smug. "Thanks, big man." Looking straight at Miguel.

Miguel's previous unbothered state became annoyed very fast. "Why can't you ever be quiet?" You did find it amusing, so did most of the office. He looked annoyed but seven months with him told you he was embarrassed.

Later, during the actual party, you were looking for a chance to slip away quietly. But when you found that moment Miguel left and it would waste all of the effort of sneaking if he saw you, because knowing him he was probably going to his office for something. You waited till he came back and took the next moment. You grabbed your purse and 'went to the bathroom for lady issues'.

His office was unlocked so that made it easier for time. You took a little box wrapped in green paper and a yellow bow out of your purse and placed it on his desk before slipping back out. But from the door, while you weren't making your get-away, you could see your work station and there was something on it. A long thin box wrapped in dark blue and tied with a red ribbon. You couldn't help laughing. Great minds think alike.

Neither of you said anything on Tuesday. Miguel had a new watch no one blinked an eye at. You had a red tie everyone saw and asked about because you were never one to wear ties. All you said was someone important gave it to you and it became the word around the office with the endless question about who it was. Jess tried the 'girl to girl' thing. Pavitr said please and if anyone else gave you the tie you would have told him. Even Hobie was getting into the mix. But you didn't move an inch.

"Okay, now that the kids are gone, who is it? Stays between you and me." Peter asked in the buddy-buddy way he did everything. It was at this point starting to die down but Peter wanted to know, if not to have a laugh to be in with you.

"They're still adults." You responded. You wouldn't be a very good secretary if you broken under any kind of pressure, this was nothing. All week not a word came out of you and that wasn't going to change.

"Do I know 'em or are they an outside source?"

It was clear to you this was going to become school yard talk and you were ready for rapid fire answers. "You're just as bad as the kids."

"Family?"

"It's cute you think I'm going to tell you."

"Boyfriend?"

Ha, I wish. "Like I said, I'm not saying anything."

"Girlfriend?"

"Changing the gender isn't going to change my answers."

"Brother?"

"I have work to do."

"Sister?"

"I already said genders didn't make a difference."

"An estranged child."

"You're covering a lot of ground to get the same answer."

"Leave her alone, Parker." Miguel said as he walked past and into his office. There wasn't an inch of malice which was a switch. A month ago he would have told the both of you to get back to work. Maybe the holiday has mellowed him out.

Peter didn't quip back or talk shit, he furrowed his brows. The way he turned to you was with an actual question, like he had the answer but it was too far removed from the subject. "Is it Miguel?"

You didn't skip and word or react. "Being specific isn't going to get you an answer either."

#atsv #fem reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #peter b. parker #secretary!au

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himbos-hotline · 10 months

Note

from the vulnerable confession prompt list 'how long have you known?' for hangmega with kota haunting the narrative

Angel to me // Watashi ni totte tenshi

Word count: 2364 words Ship: "Hangman" Adam Page/Kenny Omega, Nick Jackson/Kenny Omega [if you squint and turn your head sideways], Golden lovers Characters: "Hangman" Adam Page, Kenny Omega, The young bucks, Kota Ibushi [mentioned] Triggers: None that I can really think off... Authors note: I wrote fluff yesterday and now its impossible for me to write something cute or wholesome. This grabbed me by the balls again and I think it has some of my best lines in....The japanese at the end translates to 'coming soon angel' according to google translate. READ ON AO3

Kenny mostly sees Kota in his dreams. Clattering through his mind, knocking everything out of the apartment in his mind like a cat knocking glasses off the table, until it's just the two of them. Kenny stares at him with wide eyes, flooded with emotions as Kota collects a needle and thread, stitching the broken seams of the man he remembers. Kenny lets his hands wander across his damaged frame, watching as Kota weaves red ribbon around mental scars and embroider little hearts around bruises. He stares Kenny in the eye, hunting through the darkness and the pain for a flash of the soft, blond curls and bright eyes of the man that he fell in love with.

Kota always appears in Kenny’s dreams but he never gets to speak, plush lips part and a soft pink tongue dart out to wet them and Kota’s chest shudders under his shirt, rolling little balls of thread around his fingers. His mouth opens and Kenny recognises the tune that plays; loud and frustratingly stubborn. His alarm always cuts Kota off from speaking and by the time Kenny opens his eyes, his body is still just as broken as before he went to bed. He’s only healed in his dreams.

The tight hands of sleep release Kenny the way people release butterflies; all hopeful and gentle hands, watching as they flutter away all while having the silent dread that sometime, eventually. The butterfly will die or be eaten and all that time will have been wasted. He swings his legs out from under the covers and his knees pop in protest, skating pain wrapping itself up around his thighs and around his back like vines wrapping and strangling a rose. He sighs, dragging bare feet across the carpeted hotel room, shivering slightly at the chill that only hotel bathrooms have. The suns barely started to rise over whatever city they're in and Kenny watches it for a few moments through the dirty glass of the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, purposely keeping his eyes off the reflection in the mirror.

He spits into the sink and listens to the water run, watching it twirl down the plughole and disappear, gurgling through the pipes before wandering back into the hotel room. He dresses quietly, pinning a hair tie between his teeth as he wrestles his feet into battered sneakers and snatches his phone off the bedside table. Kenny double checks he has everything; phone, room key, headphones, overwhelming sense of longing for he’s never going to see again? Check, check, check.

He runs, works machines in the gym and stumbles back to the hotel, gripping a take away mug of coffee in his hand hard enough that ring-worn nails are leaving behind small crescent moons in the styrofoam. In the elevator, Kenny counts the floors and stares at the mirrored walls, tracing the pattern of the marble and not the tiredness that floats in his eyes. The doors purr open and Kenny steps out slowly, nodding politely at a mother who apologizes as her child goes careening around Kenny’s legs, smacking into his hip with his backpack. For a few seconds, the child stares up at Kenny and something twists in his heart; there's a flash of innocence and adoration that paints the child's dark brown eyes. Kenny signs a few things, making small talk and ruffles the childs brown hair, smiling as he gasps and bounces away to his mother, poster flailing behind him gripped tightly in his chubby hand.

Kenny waves as the elevator door closes and so does his smile, he fixes his headphones back in his ears and stumbles down the hall, mind fixed only getting home. Kenny closes his eyes as he hunts for his room keys in his pockets. The child's eyes flash through the darkness behind his eyelids and he flinches them open, blinking brightly under the overwhelming yellow glow of the hallway lights. He’s seen the look a thousand times before in fans eyes; starstruck and stunned but there was something different this time, like the child with coffee coloured eyes was apologizing for something, looking at someone over Kenny’s shoulder that only he could see. Chills tangle their way up Kenny’s spine and as he jiggles the key in the lock, he looks over his shoulders, sighing when he sees the hallway empty. Just Kenny and his shadow and the vastness of unshakeable loneliness that's mixed in Kenny’s bloodstream.

The door opens with a pop, the latch clicking satisfyingly as it reveals the hotel room to Kenny, he walks through patches of golden sunlight decorating the floor and tosses his phone onto the white sheets. He showers and changes clothes again, leaving damp curls to fan around his shoulders and frame his face as Kenny crawls back under the covers, eyes half closed.

The body next to him is warm and still mostly asleep, face highlighted by strands of golden sun as it dances in and out of heaven. An arm wraps around Kenny’s middle and like a dog craving attention, Kenny follows. Letting the body maneuver him against its side, forehead tucked in Kenny’s neck as it stumbles through the last sections of sleep. The body breathes against the dents of Kenny’s collarbone and he plasters a smile on his face as it speaks, Virginian accent thick and quiet. “G’mornin’ angel.”

Kenny looks down at Adam’s face; at the half lidded green eyes, growing in alertness like moss growing over an abandoned gravestone and he catches the nickname still caught in Adam’s teeth; the color of molded fools gold. It's a common enough nickname, especially for Kenny but it still takes him by surprise. He’s heard it before, sure, but in a different tone, in a different voice, vowels shaped differently and he feels an ever familiar pang in longing in his mind.

“Good morning.” He whispers back instead, trying to kiss the nickname out of Adam’s teeth and off his mouth, trying to kiss the coppery taste of uncanniness into an ever-familiar gold.

The two of them move together in the uncoordinated bliss of early morning sex; bodies pressed together moving slowly with no real goal in mind. Adam whines against Kennys shoulder and Kenny tangles one hand into his curls, still messy and tangled from sleep. There's a growing pressure behind his eyes, almost like Kenny wants to cry. So he closes them tighter and rolls his hips with purpose. It seems to be enough as soon Adams spilling, warm and wet across Kenny’s fluttering stomach and the crisp white sheets, cum sparkling silver in the sunshine. Kenny pulls out slowly and flinches inwardly when Adams head comes to rest against his racing heart, breath spilling across his stained chest. “Where were you this morning?”

Kenny pauses his movements, his palm stopping against his chest. He thinks for a few seconds, looking down at Adam’s quietly questioning eyes. Wrapped in his own head? Trying to run away from a golden star that’s still hung in Kenny’s sky by a red string that links people forever, a constantly glowing North Star that Kenny looks at for advice, for comfort.

“Gym.”

“Oh…” Adam nods, giving Kenny a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he scrambles his legs out of bed. There's no pain that paints itself across Adam's eyes as he moves, working his way to the bathroom. Kenny wipes himself off and stares pathetically for a few seconds at his body before he hears Adam call from the bathroom, asking about food or something that Kenny doesn't quite pick up over the sound of running water, so he stays quiet. Adam doesn’t let up, he calls Kenny’s name over the sound of the shower pounding against the floor.

Kenny makes a small sound, trying his best to sound interested as Adam asks for his toiletries back. Kenny takes it to him and leans against the shower door as Adam washes his hair and body, humming softly as he does so. The two of them share a glance and Kenny steps under the hot water, arms wrapped around Adam middle like he's holding onto someone different; fingers spreading against his chest and mouth already nipping and biting at his earlobe.

Kenny’s teeth graze against a sensitive spot on Adam's jaw and he gasps, forehead resting against the wet tiles of the bathroom shower.

“I love you.”

Kenny feels the confession more than he hears it; feels the creak of Adam’s jaw joint against his teeth, feels the tender syllables slide against chewed pink lips and into the mold in the tiles grout. There’s beats of silence where Kenny’s ears catch up and he pulls away, hands untangling from around Adam's hips. He blinks, body going cold and numb under the beating heat of the shower. Adam’s eyes widen and his body stills, forehead smacking against the tiles as he turns “I-..I didn't mean it..” His voice shivers out between worn down lips, hands trembling at his side.

“Yes you did.” Kenny whispers, digging his nails into the fat of his hips as he steps away from Adam and out of the shower. He feels like he can’t breathe and the pressure in his skull feels like a drumline. It beats out Adam’s confession louder and louder until it's the only thing Kenny can hear, even over his ragged breathing. He shakes his head, leaving Adam standing alone and panicking in the shower.

They avoid each other for the rest of the day until the show starts. They’re both squished in a locker room; Adam sitting on the couch while Kenny slumps over in a chair, staring a hole into the floor. The two of them barely look up when Matt pushes the door open, engrossed in an animated conversation with his brother.

“And so I told him-” Matt’s voice drawls away, eyeing the two of them on opposite sides of the room before staring at Nick with a waring look in his eyes. The door pops closed behind the two of them as they sit on the floor, between the two of them. Kenny looks up, almost like he's surprised to see Nick’s sneakers, highlighter yellow in his eyeline.

“Hey Nicky” Kenny smiles and straightens himself against the chair, chuckling when Nick takes his place on his lap, head tucked sleepily into his shoulder. “Tuckered out hmm?”

Matt speaks from his place on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, before Nick gets his mouth open. “The idiot drank my coffee. Y'know how he is with caffeine, you remember the time in Japan where-'' Matt stops abruptly and Adam looks up from his phone, confusion painted on his face.

Nick looks at his brother and then at Kenny, blue eyes reading their faces before nodding and returning to his brother's side. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Adam answers, too quickly for him to be telling the truth. Kenny glares at him from across the room. Matt rolls his eyes, tapping his finger against the back of his brother's hand. Nick nods and finishes the silent conversation with his brother by standing up, dragging Matt to his feet by his wrist. Almost like they’re on the same path of thought, Matt and Nick turn to leave, Nick squirming out the locker room first, running away like a startled deer as Matt looks over his shoulders; brown eyes narrowed and tired as he glares at the two of them.

“Whatever the fuck has happened, sort it out before out match tonight yeah? We have to win this.” Matt orders, finger wagging between Adam and Kenny before he slams the door.

The two of them are alone again, staring at each other dead in the eyes. Adam worries at the inside of his cheek and Kenny frowns at him.

Silence settles over the room the way a storm settles over the world;thickening the air and wrapping the very air in your chest in anticipation, making it heavy and stone-like at the bottom of your lungs. Kenny takes a small breath of air.

“How long have you known?” He asks, voice thumbling like thunder over the locker room. It strikes Adams ears and his eyes look down at the dry floor, scuffing his boot across the floor. “Adam. How long have you known that you…” Kenny pauses, gripping his hands together. The words stop just behind his teeth, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“That I love you?” Adam asks rhetorically, voice taking a sour tone as he glares at Kenny from behind his curling eyelashes. “You can't even say it, can you?”

That question isn't rhetorical, his eyebrows raise and he gestures his hand out as if presenting the perfect opportunity for Kenny to spill his heart. In his mind, Kenny pictures Adam holding a dagger and a platter, twirling the blade under the arena lights as he waits for Kenny to rip his shirt open and bare his chest so he can carve his beating heart out. He opens his mouth and closes it again, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, tugging at the fabric of his jeans.

Adams sigh, small and defeated, speaks more words that Kenny has ever heard. It sounds like a gust of wind breaking and snapping the tops of trees and Kenny’s eyebrows pinch together when Adam stands, hand resting sullenly on his shoulder. Kenny follows his eyes up Adam's arm and stares into his eyes, blue eyes flooded in apology. “Adam I-”

“I know Kenny..” Adam looks just above Kenny’s head like he’s looking at something angelic. “I know.” He presses a soft kiss to the middle of Kenny’s forehead and walks himself to the door, his fingers twisting around the door handle.

The door opens and Adam stares at Kenny sadly from the threshold. “I hope you're happy…”

The door closes and Kenny sits alone, staring longingly at the door. “Me too..” He croaks out, eyes downturned to the floor as the overhead light flickers off.

In the darkness, Kenny’s phone lights up from its spot against his suitcase.

⭐ One imaged attached もうすぐ到着します天使

Taglist: @allelitesmut @homoeroticgrappling @dustinslovehandles @paradoxunknown @katries @mrsmatt @echoxshxrx @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @racerchix21 @jacedoe @itsnoosetome @chuckstaylors @old-no7 @thekadster @mandiableclaw @tahiri-veyla

#kenny omega #hangman page #golden lovers #hangkenny #hangmega

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lovesosweeet · 5 months

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

august 29, 2018 uncasville, connecticut calum

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about being away from Orion for this long. It’s almost been a month, and we still talk almost every day. I know I can’t expect for things to feel all that normal. I left her alone in LA. She has a life there. I’m busy, touring with the band.

I think days like today are when I feel it the most. We’re in a random ass city in New England. We have a show tonight, but today we aren’t doing press, and there’s not exactly a lot to do in Connecticut. It’s just another day with the boys, whom I love dearly, but don’t exactly have a lot of fresh topics to talk to them about.

At least it felt okay to sleep in this morning. A lot of days it feels like a waste of being in a cool city or a waste of being close to family to sleep in, but in Uncasville, Connecticut, sleeping until 11 feels like an appropriate start to the day.

I wake up to a few texts from Orion, which is unsurprising but always good to see.

From: my love + stars good morning hi hello i couldn’t sleep last night i am zombie today running on hella coffee i think duke misses you he keeps going into your studio and pacing around it’s so sad do you think he can come to the venue in san diego? omg i can get him a little shirt that says “i <3 5sos” can you imagine if i do that you have to post it to your story so the fans can see they would die hope you have so much fun in the fantastic town of uncasville today!!!!

To: my love + stars it’s always a good morning when i can hear from you! very good morning to you my very beautiful girlfriend my favorite zombie you can eat my brains if you want send me duke pics rn i miss him too please bring him!!!! i’m pretty sure dogs are allowed. i will riot if not. yknow you could post it yourself. just make your profile public ya silly goose. the fans love you now.

From: my love + stars cal if you ever don’t hear from me in the morning you need to call the cops i will always say hi asap i will eat your brains first look how cute dukey is!!!!!!! Images attached (3) they occasionally tOleRaTE me NOW. the tables could turn at any time.

To: my love + stars i will never call the cops on you you can do no wrong even if you eat my brains don’t tell duke’s mom but i think i miss my son more than i miss his mom (I AM KIDDING I PROMISE) literally the only reason the tables would turn is if you were a shitty person and you’re the best person i know so you’re good of course only go public if you want but just sayin the world would be a better place if everyone could see your beautiful sunset selfies

From: my love + stars somebody call 911 shawty’s lying to me on the dance flo it’s ok if you miss duke more than me i am not offended i swear you know i won’t go public i just don’t need that chaos in my life i love quietly lurking on stan twitter from my burner account

To: my love + stars i am not lying i miss you more than i have ever missed anyone duke is close second dw it could be a rush to go public for a day and then go back private see what happens

From: my love + stars stop you’re gonna make me cry in the club rn it would be not fun cal you know this i’d get a bunch of DIE BITCH I COULD TAKE UR MAN IF I WANT TO YOU’RE SO UGLY and maybe a sprinkle of wow you’re kinda cool sometimes

I’m not sure how long it’s been that Orion and I are just sitting here texting each other back and forth until Ashton is giggling across the room at me.

“What are you making all those faces for, Cal?” He asks.

I flip him off. “Just texting Orion.”

“Oooh, what are you guys talking about?” Luke walks in the room, a banana in hand and Sierra trailing behind him carrying a Starbucks cup.

I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just telling her she should make her Instagram public, and she thinks it’d just open up a door for death threats.”

“The fans like her now, don’t they?” Luke asks. He plops down on the couch next to me, and Sierra sits on his right side. He looks around the room at all of us, searching for confirmation.

“She always gets love when I post a picture with her in it,” Ashton confirms.

It’s no secret that I’m not exactly an active user on any social media, so even though I have millions of photos of me and Orion, I don’t share them much. That’s both due to my personal social media habits and Orion’s wishes to keep her presence on my social media to a minimum. It’s kind of like her rule for flowers — only for special occasions.

Ashton, on the other hand, posts a few photos at a time to his story and feed pretty regularly, and more often than not, if there’s a group picture, Orion is in it. He’s also the only one that really hangs out with Orion on her own regularly, so naturally they have more photos of the two of them. That said, if she’s only getting positive comments on Ashton’s posts, I’m sure she’d get positive reactions if she shared her own.

“I’m not saying she should or shouldn’t,” Sierra starts. “But I definitely get why she doesn’t want a public profile.”

“I mean, to be fair, a lot of what she posts is of you guys,” Luke adds. He’s not wrong. Because her profile is private and she can pick and choose who follows her, she feels fine to post whatever she wants, and that means posting a lot of pictures with me, of me, and of Duke. “She definitely wouldn’t want to do that if she went public.”

I sigh, knowing that Sierra and Luke are probably right, and Orion is too, even if she’s not completely accurate with what would actually happen if she made her profile public. I decide to drop it.

“Where’s that Starbucks at?” I decide to ask, changing the subject. I nod at Sierra’s coffee cup in her hand.

With the address in hand, I head off to find someone to drive me to the Starbucks and go back to texting Orion.

To: my love + stars it’s pretty early to be in the club but still don’t cry just a little over a month. we’ve got this!! only go public if you want. i support you regardless and happy to be bad cop and defend you in your comments if you needed

From: my love + stars a 2018 shakespearean level romance defending me in an IG comment section i’m a lucky girl