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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in.

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath.

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up.

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming.

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands.

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away.

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea.

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head.

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers.

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more.

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband.

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck.

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by.

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses.

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer.

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence.

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead.

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you.

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room.

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra.

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom.

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way.

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs.

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her.

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut.

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly.

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response.

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working.

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes.

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile.

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name.

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings.

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling.

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number.

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs.

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you.

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately.

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed.

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain.

A gift.

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream.

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic.

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible.

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate.

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest.

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer.

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs.

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh.

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips.

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen.

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you.

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx

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porcelainseashore · 30 days

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Into the Ether (1)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, ...)

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick, Luis), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

Authors' Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “PI, actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked.

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.”

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

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absolute-flaming-trash · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 721

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Captive reader, Forced relationship

Out of all the holiday seasons that came and went during the year, this one was your favourite by far.

Not for the festivities or the brash, obnoxious yet oddly endearing holiday traditions that made their way over from the Western world. Those certainly had their place, yes, but you loved it for an entirely different reason.

The lights.

Colours of every shade, limited only by imagination, were strung up on buildings all across the city - wrapped around the rails of balconies and other anchor points like luminescent vines. Trees that lined the streets were specifically decorated with white and blue, mimicking the ice and snow around them and making the scene seem just that much brighter.

It made it all seem so ethereal. How enchanting such a simple thing could make a night otherwise illuminated only by lights belonging to office buildings and private homes. It was almost enough to make you forget why you had the view you did. Who you shared it with.

You didn’t want to go back inside the hotel room yet. Even with some protection from the balcony, the cold bit at your skin making gooseflesh pepper your skin. Your toes had gone numb ages ago, but you couldn’t yet tear yourself away.

In the distance, someone was playing carols over a loudspeaker. The sound made your lips quirk up ever so slightly and you closed your eyes to take it in for a moment. While classical music was all but ruined for you by this point, there was something about the orchestral version of songs that still managed to make you feel… home. Nostalgia stirring in your chest for something that would never be the same again. A place that never existed anymore.

Such a moment was interrupted by warmth wrapping itself around you from behind, hands encircling your waist and reminding you just how thin your nightgown really was.

Your silent wish that he wouldn’t speak and simply look at the view with you was quickly crushed when you felt his hot breath right next to your ear.

“Twas noontide of summer,” Chrollo began, “and mid-time of night; and stars, in their orbits, shone pale ‘ore the night.”

“Must you always do that?” You asked, cutting his recitation off before he could complete it fully. A beat of silence followed, one long enough that the temptation to reopen your eyes to look at him pulled at your subconscious, but you pushed it back.

You felt one of his hands leave your waist in favor of your arm, the goosebumps disappearing under the warmth of his palm. Part of you wondered if he delighted in the little ways your body betrayed you when it came to him. What he provided.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Make it worse.”

There was another beat of silence as Chrollo’s fingers tightened around your bicep in a light squeeze. You opened your eyes that time, the lights coming back into view, but this time it felt different.

Tainted.

He squeezed your arm again.

“You’re cold. Come back in, there are plenty of blankets for you.”

A frown threatened to tug at your lips, but you hid it well. At least you thought you did. If there was one bright side to being the object of Chrollo’s affection, it was learning the skill of hiding what you truly felt.

Not like it mattered much, anyway.

“Do I have to?”

Another squeeze on your arm. Firmer. Non-negotiable.

“You’ll catch cold.”

A surprising reason, you thought. With how much he lingered and leered, you figured he’d delight in any occasion that would result in you depending upon and relying on him more.

Attempting to think about any other reason as to why he wouldn’t want for something like that only served to give you a headache, so you nodded once - turning your body to face his.

“Excellent.” You could hear the pleasantry in his tone hidden underneath his otherwise deadpan expression. The hand on your arm slid off to reopen the balcony door while the other moved to the small of your back, guiding you back inside.

The warmth from the room that greeted you was ironic in a way. Most defined the winter night air as biting. Harsh, even.

Yet the supposed reprieve of the indoors had never felt less welcoming.

#riri writes #Chrollo #Chrollo x Reader #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #Yandere x Reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw captivity #tw forced relationship

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kitmoas · 7 months

Text

when the veneer crumbles

the sounds of water are always relaxing

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: **18+ MINORS DNI**, SMUT, dark and demonic themes, death, possession, drowning, magic use, Mommy kink

as per usual if there is anything I missed let me know

Author's Note: I'm so sorry this one was late, had a lot of car and financial shit I needed to figure out but I finally got it finished. This was one that i always knew how i wanted it to end, even from last year when i first planned it for the Occult series, but for some reason it was REALLY hard to put my idea into words. Hopefully it's not HORRIBLE, i'm a bit rusty after taking more then a few months off. The rest of them will be better I promise lol

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

The crickets in the distance are a welcome change to the busy streets of the city, cars honking

nonstop during your work day. The world you live in is hectic and out of control but the farther you walk into the almost clear empty darkness the more you can feel the control you naively gain. Stepping into the barely touched woods behind the mostly abandoned house was something that you had missed, a childhood memory that had died suddenly.

Allowing your mind to wander to the summers that you would spend here out on the lake, jumping off the dock, and laughing with your cousins was the welcome peace you needed as you settled along the rickety wood. Even if those fun times were cut short at your aunt’s sudden death, you knew that being here gave you just a moment of your innocence back.

Stepping onto the rickety wood carefully, you cringe internally as your arm tightens momentarily around the rolled up soft blanket. You should have known better to bring a water proof material but it was too late for that. Knees cracking slightly as you lean down, the smooth fabric flaps in the wind and you sigh softly in relief as you are able to fully settle on the dock. Deciding to stretch out was a bit of a mistake, in your time away you forgot just how soothing the sound of water lapping at the damp wood was.

Goosebumps spread across your skin as you slowly came to consciousness, brittle wind chilling you to the bone as you rub the sleep out of your eye. The fog is dense, and confusing as it was supposed to be a clear night. Slowly sitting up, your bones crack as you stretch as much as possible without rocking the dock too much. The unstable wood is loud even with the bare minimum movement causing you to flinch as it echoes across the empty field.

Squinting through the haze, you try to figure out if you can gauge just how late it is by the placement of the moon. The only thing you can see is a weird tunnel out in the middle of the lake, almost like a tornado of gray. Immediate fear isn’t your first thought, though you begin to question just how awake you are.

Condensation makes the wood wet, slipping as you try to stand up but it's the glowing red orbs in the distance that makes you freeze in your half crouched position. They are captivating even from afar. The air around you is thick, filled with the now red tinted fog that almost looks like it's bleeding. Heavy and molasses-like as it lays on your skin, eyes flickering around you try to make sense of your surroundings.

When she gets close enough to see smaller details, your brain slows almost to a complete stop. She’s entirely too breathtakingly beautiful and tragically horrific at the same time. No color to her skin, it’s almost as though she comes directly from one of the old black and white television shows your mother liked to watch. The woman is wearing tight clothing, torn and ripped sporadically. Her eyes almost seem so gray that they are an ethereal foggy green, only flashing ruby when the shrap thin lines all over her body pulsate crimson. Her hair is long and dripping with an inky hue, tangled and disheveled. Fingertips dipped in a steaming tar, dancing near her side as she stalks towards you.

It’s when you can almost reach out and touch the figure that you finally scramble backwards, putting distance between the two of you as the flight side of your instincts kick in. You barely make it more than five steps when you’re being dragged upwards with some sort of red translucent mist. It wraps around your wrists, dragging your arms above your head as you flop about uselessly. Screams are getting caught in your throat as you have to just hang there, watching this being get closer to you.

When the lady is directly below you, the hair on the back of your neck stands up straight and your muscles twitch from how tense they are. You want to panic, to yell, but something stops you. Tilting her head, she has to look up at you from where her magic holds you against the rough bark. Her hand comes out to touch you, but the soft feeling comes as a surprise to you. She cups your cheek, a low red spreading in her eyes as you shake under her touch.

She smiles at you, a soft almost nurturing thing. “You’re just as pretty as I thought you would be, little lamb.” Her voice is chilling, breathy with a raspy tone to it. The older woman’s free hand caresses your stomach, an unwanted warmth sinking into your gut.

Her nails are jagged, cracked and repulsive, as she takes her time to explore your body. It’s sudden, the vigor in which she gropes your body. Clumsy and completely all over the place, you aren’t entirely sure what she thinks she’s doing. Struggling against your restraints, the chill covers your body like ice freezing over a lake.

It isn’t until your body takes over, fear and anger sinking into your bones, that the creature seemingly gains control of her actions and her hand becomes confident and firm. Nails pointedly scratching at your skin as fingers map out your skin, almost stabbing at each goosebump she finds. Your eyes are glued to your face as your mind struggles to catch up to what you had done, flinching as her other hand reaches up. It doesn’t strike you as you thought it would, instead she brushes the back of her knuckles against her own face, trepidation stopping your blood from rushing through your body as you finally realize that you spit at her.

That wasn’t what you wanted to do, you knew that you needed to act smart if you were going to survive this but for some reason all your ability to think logically went out the window. You wanted her more than anything in the world right now, and you knew that you needed to try and do anything to keep her exactly where she was.

“Do you not have control over your stupid little body, mortal?” Her voice is low, almost filled with gravel as she mumbles. Rust filled eyes not even paying you a second of attention but instead staring at the glistening saliva that drips from her fingers.

Your head is shaking vigorously, denying inability in hopes that she doesn’t see you as foolish. The desire to be praised by her came as a surprise, but you weren’t fighting it and it seems to have worked. A smile slowly stretches across the surreal creature’s face as she blinks slowly. “It’s so funny to see such a useless being believe they are worth anything more than what I deem them to be. You think by answering my question in whatever way you think I want will make the outcome of your situation better?”

She speaks softly, almost nurturing as she rubs her soaked fingers along your neck, smearing your own spit against you. You crane your neck as much as you can against the crimson smog wrapped there, trying to hear her voice as clearly as possible.

“I take what I want and no smart mouthed, stupid brained little human is going to stop that. I like to have fun, and the peak is watching you bleed out for me.” The words are harsh but you can’t help but moan as your body is thrown upwards, red tendrils tightening and dragging you to hang limply from the tree branch. It’s devoid of leaves, and creaks under your weight, but it somehow makes you feel like you have a safety net. You had climbed this tree many times in the past, and even had various hanging sets from this very limb.

Swinging freely, you try to move your body as much as possible as the urge to escape your confines sinks in. Entirely too focused, you don’t realize that her hands are moving along your ice cold skin. Groping softly, her movements are controlled and precise to make sure that you barely register it in your brain. It’s when her hands force your legs apart, maroon vapor ropes slithering around your thighs to hold them open, that you finally realize just how hard you are breathing. Your body felt slightly warm, at least in your core, and you could feel your blood rushing downwards. It was almost like your entire being was electrified and you were entirely too conscious of every single thing you felt.

She doesn’t take her time, her eyes narrow as she focuses on mapping out your skin. The bright ruby lines she leaves in her wake only entertain her for so long before she finally moves in between your shaking thighs. The older woman’s finger swipes through your folds, collecting the small amount of wetness she finds there. Gasping as she spreads it across your clit, a throbbing ache despite the way your body revolts. Her jaw mockingly drops when for the first time her eyes light up with amusement, giggling when your hips chase her hand. “Oh poor baby, I can’t fuck you if you’re not wet enough. It’ll hurt your small fragile little body too much and Mommy doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Your head is shaking violently, nonsensical protests tumbling from your lips. It didn’t matter to you, regardless if it was because you wanted her or wanted the situation to be over with, you just needed her to touch you. Even though your wetness wasn’t enough for her, you did feel aroused. Maybe it was your mind tricking you into believing this was what you wanted or maybe it was the glittering crimson behind your irises, but that wasn’t a piece of information that you needed to know.

She tuts, chastising you. “Now don’t lie to me. I know what you want even if your mind fights it, and your body hasn’t caught up, I know.” You watch as she takes a step back, letting her eyes drink in your form. Letting the back of her knuckles run down your torso, you watch as she slowly kneels on the damp dirt. Her hands are grazing over your thighs, pushing them farther open as she leans in. The grip she has on you, though gentle, is strong and you can’t kick her when you feel her mouth along your skin.

The smoothness of her strangely sharp teeth is hot against your cooled body, but it’s the sharp pierce and spilling of your blood that leaves a weirdly chilled warmth leaking down your leg. Eyes widening you try to look past the head of dark locks to see what just happened, but it didn’t take long for your brain to catch up and the stabbing pain on your inner thigh.

She looks up at you, sparkling light jade eyes catching the moon light, with a toothy smile and a small dribble of crimson running down her chin. “You’re a fucking vampire?” You couldn’t help the shocked yelp, body shaking with fear.

The being doesn’t even answer you, giggling as rolls her eyes up at you. She seems so innocent in those moments but nothing gets rid of the terror emanating within your soul. Looking back at your bleeding thigh, she swipes her fingers through the thick liquid to coat them. Her nails catch on the open wound, sending another wave of searing pain through your body but she pays no attention to you.

It almost feels like time stops as you hang there, waiting, but the moment the brunette swipes her crimson dipped thumb across your clit something in your body cracks. It’s small but you can feel the change and in your mind you start screaming at yourself. You know being vocal won’t stop this crazy woman, but you wanted to deter her by being completely unaffected. It was the last thing you had on her, to make her believe that what she was doing was just pure torture and you found absolutely no pleasure in it, but you knew that that power over her was no longer available to you.

Never one for vanilla sex, not even in theory, you shouldn’t be that surprised that being taken by force from a demonic crazy being would be right up your alley. No one could ever keep up with you, your fantasies were just a bit too intense or a bit too dangerous, and for once everything you ever wanted was being fulfilled. This gorgeous being was forcing her fingers farther into you, your blood dripping randomly down different parts of your body.

Despite your want for intensely kinky sex, you knew that it should be completely consensual right? It should let you know that, and you could feel your anger rising in your body as the heat zoomed between your thighs. This couldn’t be consensual, not with how it started, but if it wasn’t then why did the idea of her actually stopping tear you up on the inside? You couldn’t fathom the idea of her ice cold thumb pulling away from your throbbing clit for too long, for her touch on your body to not cause goosebumps.

She doesn’t wait much longer, no need to attempt to please you now that she has the wetness she wants, shoving two fingers into you with almost no remorse. A shrill scream gets stuck in your throat as you choke on the force of air rushing up, the pain bringing tears to your eyes. A sign of weakness that this twisted soul revels in as she thrusts her fingers in, letting her free hand drag up crimson periodically.

The pain was immense and you were certain that she had to be using something besides her fingers, there was no way that the small hands in between your thighs were causing this much agony. You wanted to shove against her, but the moment her teeth sink into your breast you know you’re gone. Hips jumping, trying to get her to move more as the pleasure starts to settle in your tummy, uselessly against her body. It felt so bad that the good started to come from a delirious state, and you just needed her to move. The tips of her fingers just rubbing slightly against the soft spot inside of you, the texture of her wrinkled skin felt wrong but you were starting to become obsessed.

“Isn’t it comical? A desperate slut like you thought you had everything together, thought I was going to ruin your life by taking what was destined to be mine?” Through the heavy fog that had begun to settle in your head you tried your best to look down at her, shock painted across your face. How did she know what you were thinking? She doesn’t give you any answer, instead her thrusting gets more aggressive as the wetness between your thighs grows, and it mixes with the blood still heavily leaking from the bite marks.

You want to moan, whimper, maybe even plead but you were no longer sure what you wanted. Logically you needed this to stop if you were to ever be okay again, but at the same time all you wanted to do was feel her mouth on your clit. You wanted her to fuck you until you were incoherent, a drooling mess. Hatred towards yourself and her fueled your motions as you tried to work to take more of her hand, stretching around her third finger as she shoves it ungracefully into you.

Her mouth is at your knee now, glowing eyes looking up at you as she smirks. “Taking me so well for someone so against getting used.” Her arm is moving roughly, fingers curling inside you as she ghosts her teeth along your thigh. “So clean, so dry. Why don’t you make a mess for Mommy? I like my cunts all wet and messy.”

It was then you found your power, despite the arousal burning in your belly and the way you clenched around her fingers whenever she swiped her thumb along your clit. You knew that the more you let your thoughts wonder, even if it had to be forced, that you would be able to pull yourself from the situation. Imagine yourself somewhere else and almost black out during everything, your body would be limp and pliant but not give her what she wants. The movie you would go see in a week with your best friends, or the long list of groceries that you knew you needed to get when you went back into the city. Thoughts swarmed your head as you tried your hardest to ignore the way her fingers poked and prodded, the way her thumb caressed your swollen clit just perfectly.

Screwing your eyes shut, you make your best attempt at seeming unaffected but you don’t realize that you aren’t winning. If anything you just make it more fun for the being below you, giving her the opportunity to make you as wet as she wants.

Being so focused on the thoughts traveling through your brain was good until you don’t feel the tugging on your wrists, persistent and firm. It’s only when you’re tumbling helplessly through the air that you realize you are no longer hanging from the tree, but instead falling face first into the freezing lake. It’s a shock, breaking the surface of the water. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and forces your throat to close, you can practically feel all your muscles seize as well. You make the mistake of opening your mouth to scream, causing a rush of dirty water to fill your lungs, and it’s only when her hand claws at the back of your head that you feel even an ounce of relief.

She’s tearing your body out of the water, pieces of the thin ice fly around you and you can’t believe that you relax as your body collides with her. “Don’t think that you can try to outplay Mommy like that you little slut. I know what you want, you are my destiny. You were made to take me, so be a good girl and let me do what I was made to do.” Her voice is sweet, almost soft, as she speaks through her teeth directly into your ear. It shouldn’t calm your racing heart, neither should the almost warm comforting touch of her red mist along your thighs.

You want to let yourself fall, the intense arousal is boiling in your tummy and you can feel the coil tightening with each brush of her hand along your body. It would be much easier to allow yourself to become immersed in the pleasure coursing through your body, but it wasn’t until she allowed that crimson fog to slip inside you. Despite the fact that whatever she was pushing into you was magical, you were still too tight for her liking. There was a part of you deep down that still didn’t want this and it was causing your body to react subconsciously.

‘If the slut doesn’t want to get wet, then I’ll keep you wet myself.” Her hands scratch up your side, a nail digging into your nipple on the way up and it makes your hip buck. You feel yourself melting back into her and a moan softly slips from your parted lips. The urge to pretend that it’s from the cold is strong, but you can’t even pretend at this point like the feeling of her hands on you isn’t turning you on.

Her hands are running along your torso, teasing your nipples and scratching up your stomach. It almost feels normal, just another hookup and it makes you forget. Losing yourself in the way that the ruby swells inside you, rubbing against the soft spot it finds and caressing your clit softly.

The wetness between your thighs is gathering the longer she plays with you, wine stained mist thrusting lazily into you. It almost plays with you, knowing that it ruts to hard or fast that it will bring you closer to the edge, but it keeps you writhing for more with each movement. You want to beg for more, ask her to touch you with her own hands as you have begun to crave her ice touch, though there is something that is stopping you from doing that. It isn’t necessarily pride, something you lost the moment you began to get turned on by this aggressive form of twisted affection.

It’s when her nails scratch at the back of your neck that you realize the fog that’s dragging you slowly, almost mockingly leisurely, towards the edge is growing. Almost like a ball, it feels like she’s pushing her magic abilities to stretch you to the point right before danger. You’re confused, as your wetness starts dripping down your thighs and your breath starts picking up, how much more wet could you get?

Instant regret floods your system almost as fast as the ice cold water that rushes down your throat as she shoves your face directly into the lake. It’s not a quick dunk to shock you this time, her claw-like hand squishing your face into the almost mud like dirt at the bottom. She doesn’t stop forcing more and more into you, her magical fog swelling larger and it presses against where your torso is now pressed against the ground. Even as you struggle against her, your internal will to try and live kicking in, you can’t help the build up in your stomach. The coil tightens as her magic moves within you, moving inside you as her nails dig into her back.

Sharp stinging pains are a contrast, an added sensation, to your panic as you begin to think maybe she is just going to keep you submerged. There’s no way she would, right? She wants to use you, there would be no reason that she would want to truly harm you.

A deep belly chuckle is muffled through the water, barely a vibration as your arm and head flail as much as possible. You wanted out but you can’t help but moan instead of scream, the pleasure of her nails into your shoulder blades and her thigh grinding between your thighs into the swell of mist there beginning to get too overwhelming. It was no longer a fight to survive but a fight to enjoy the last moments of life. Somewhere in your mind you knew that you wouldn’t actually make it out of this alive, but for some reason you’ve decided to ignore that.

“Such a stupid whore, letting just anyone touch your cunt.” She fists your soaked hair in your hand, and just for a fleeting moment the pain mixed with arousal takes over your fogged mind. “You don’t even know Mommy and yet here you are, taking my gorgeous gift like the good little fuck toy you are.” Her free hand abandons your back in lue of groping your ass, pushing down against it to get you to stop moving. Her thigh is pushing against your throbbing clit now, soaked in your wetness despite water lapping up as you splash about.

You can feel your vision start to darken, the edges of the burning sensation as you try to keep your eyes open have blurred and blackened. Unsure if you are even panicking anymore, your body starts to relax and the only thing you can focus on is the fuzzy warm arousal filling each nerve in your body. The water floating around you becomes tranquil as each muscle in your body softens and you move with each thrust into you.

A wide sinister smile stretches unnaturally along the being’s face, pulling her almost gray lips as far as they can as she stares down at your almost lifeless body. She can see the signs and for her it motivates her even more, forcing more and more of her magic into you. You were everything she could have ever wanted and she refused to let you stay in the living world, if she was destined to be stuck to this lake forever then so would you.

Slowly you could feel all the tension in your body start to clump together in your stomach, draining from the rest of you and tightening around the scarlet orb inside you. You craved that last bit of pleasure, that last rush in your veins to end this for good.

When it becomes almost impossible to move and you are no longer shaking from panic or exertion, but instead trembling from hanging onto the edge, she knows it’s time. Sneering down at your limp form, she uses her grip in your hair to turn your head. Slapping at your cheek until she can just barely see your fuzzy bloodshot eyes, an almost soft nurturing smile paints along her face once she sees your drunk like state. “There’s my girl. So fucked out.” Her sphere cloud inside you starts to vibrate, her cold dark eyes once more glowing a dim ruby.

Gripping at your jaw, her claw practically breaks your neck as she forces you to keep eye contact with her. Even as your eyes slip closed, struggling to stay open as you start to dangle over the edge, you can’t help but feel drawn in to listen. “Say my name, little toy, say it and stay with me forever.” Her voice is raspy, bordering soft but she’s taunting you. “You know it, you know you do, so say it. Say it now.” Her actions become frantic, her thigh grinding more aggressively into you. She’s trying to force you into a more pathetic state, even at the edge of death she wants you to be begging for her.

As much as you can you try to deny knowing, because how could you? You had never seen this person, if that’s what she is even considered, before this horrific situation. The attempt at trying to keep water from going down your throat had stopped, your lungs should have filled completely with liquid by now so some other power must have been keeping you alive.

Though you couldn’t see it, the being was getting annoyed. Her eyes rolled as she realized that you were thinking again, a brain dead creature who could still think. “Say my name and you can cum for Mommy, like the pretty little whore you are.” She spits at you through her teeth, pointed and your blood drying on the dull shine. With her words she sees a change in your stature, even held under the force of her hand, eagerness. Humming slowly she allows her maroon mist to sink into each part of your body.

Your brain was almost empty, nothing but serene thoughts going through it as you felt yourself slip into the darkness. You thought that there would be a light at the end of the time but instead you start seeing a faint rosy hue. The being above you is yelling at you and the need to give in is strong, you want to end everything on a high. You need that high.

Her name slips into the water almost silently, your eyes slipping closed as you fall into unconsciousness, but it’s there. She hears it, muffled, “Wanda.” Usually one of her biggest fears, not one to want to go back to the damned dark world but with you she could thrive. A black magic demon who accomplished its goal? She would rule the world with a scarlet leash around your neck. A small smirk as her magic starts to die, a sure sign she’s going back to being contained. Until the end of time you will be her needy little toy, just as you were as you took your last breath.

#kitmoas | Necrosis #wanda maximoff x reader #dark wanda maximoff x reader #kinktober #kits kinktober #wanda maximoff #dark wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n

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diorcities · 1 year

Text

icarus

pairing: jeno x fem reader.

genre: smut, angst

content: mention of inexperience reader, mention of virginity, face riding (female), slight bondage (collarbone), female masturbation, fingering, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, oral sex (male).

wc: 2.5 k

an: stop bc this look so ridiculous i don't even care. am i projecting? yes. do i want my yn moment? also yes. i love daydreams, and i love being delusional, anyway, enjoy <3

masterlist

oh, icarus! for all you have fallen, still you flew! and for a moment, the sun knew of you, too.

“yn, you're here?” your friend snaps her fingers in front of you, making you blink twice. “i'm having a collapse,” you confess, grabbing your head. “oh, no, i think i'm having a panic attack.” your eyes widening as the realization hit you in the stomach. “yeah... can you have it later? we're in the middle of something.” you laugh, tense. “i mean, what's going on? we've been here before,” she wanders around, as the lineup moves. “like, past year, you forgot?” you shake your head, a glimpse of a smile slowly dancing on your lips.

of course you remember.

last summer was the best summer of your life. after you have studied all year for your final exams at university, you and your friend went on a summer trip full of concerts and traveling around the globe. it was a rewarding experience for passing all your exams with good grades and saving money on your part-time job. it didn't matter what concerts you were attending. imagine dragons, coldplay, taylor swift... after a whole year of working hard, it was kind of a present from you to yourself. forgetting completely about college, both of you had a great time last year.

one night you two bumped into a concert having a place in your city. your friend immediately wanted to go, and consequently, dragged you with her. since your motto was <enjoy the summer as if it was your last> you didn't waste time and started to feel the vibe of the moment. letting yourself go.

a guy caught your attention that night. spending all evening looking at him in awe. amazed. later that night, you were sure his gaze was fixed on you. stealing glances from time to time, your heart beating so fast in your chest from the arousal. when the concert was over, he invited you to come with him.

his voice was low and raspy, like a shot of rum. and later that night, you knew his breathing was sharp and heavy. arms covered in veins, body sculpture, and chiseled by some divine god. eyes so dark you are scared to drown in the void of his pupils. nose long and manly that still makes you wet your underwear. you let him have you that night. a couple times.

“oh, god, i lost you again.” your friend rolls her eyes. “what's the deal with you?”.

“sorry, i got lost in my thoughts,” you reply, advancing with the line. your friend gives you a look. “you sound flustered,” she notices, smiling. “stop that,” you cut her off, hearing his laugh. “i mean, i'm a human, i'm nosy,” she defends herself. “what if i wanna know what happened?” “nothing happened,” you answer. she huffs. “lies.”

once inside, you and your friend go to the right side of the scenario. “you never told me about that guy you met last year,” she comments. “you know... your first time.” she adds. “oh, what if he's here tonight?” her eyes wides. “could be,” you say, distracted. “that's why you've been smiling so hard, i just know it.” she laughs. “i kinda wanna meet this sex god that has you smiling like an idiot.” you join her and laugh. your smile dies in your lips as the bitterness hit you. chest starting to hurt. what if he doesn't remember you? what if he doesn't want to see you? your fingers start to fidget the moment the lights go out.

and there he is again. the warmth expanding in your chest when your eyes manage to find him. he looks the same as always. ethereal. unreachable. magical. your eyes opening, trying to grasp everything. frame it in your head. tattoo it. he doesn't look at you. his eyes sweep the whole place with parsimony, but his eyes don't find yours. and the flame in your chest spreads. wanting. wishing. your muscles move on their own as you stand up, without worrying about how ridiculous you are trying right now. but your attempt worked. and now his eyes lock with yours. and you feel like you're holding your breath, yearning.

is this how icarus felt when he approached the sun? this burnt feeling through the limbs, only to find out he was burning inside out? suddenly falling (in love) with joy because, for a moment, he was close to the sun?.

his eyes weigh down when he looks at you. charged with a deep feeling, an unknown emotion. licking his lips as he sinks into his thoughts, imagining. his hectic breathing makes him look attractive. his skin glowing with sweat. flexed arms looking bigger; the memory of them holding you tightly as he penetrated you with care. you bite your lip instinctively, and you see him spasm where he stands.

both of you don't think you can hold it anymore.

the hours pass slowly. a torture for you, already waiting for him. your fiery pussy wet by your violent desires. lips part open as you breathe fast and superficial. he disappears behind backstage and doubt freeze you right where you are. wondering if you imagined it all. until a message.

j: you free?

“no. fucking. way.” you shush her watching her open her mouth, in disbelief. “you're texting jeno!?” she whispers, and you nod. “wait, what? hold on.” her eyes sparkle. “so this mysterious guy is the one and only jeno lee?” you roll your eyes. “jeez, you'll let everyone know.” she glances at your phone. “well, you better go, right?” she says. “wait, you're not coming with me?” you ask, worried. “i mean, i don't see any threesome word anywhere, so yes, i'm leaving,” she says, “you better show off. tell me all about it tomorrow,” she demands, walking away. “eh, can i have an autograph, perhaps?” she jokes, before winking. you watch her leave before responding to the message.

you: always.

even up close, your eyesight doesn't do justice to his beauty. he had a shower before you arrived. water pearls forming in his jet-black hair. his hands guide you to a wall before attacking your lips fervently. with sharp and hungry movements, he devours your mouth with desperation. leaving you breathless. the kiss breaks enough to take a breath of air, a thread of saliva connected to your lips due to arousal. feeling his tongue make its way through your mouth, flicking and moving, causing your arousal released in your core. “i want you,” you whisper in his mouth, feeling his hands running over you. “how much?” he breathes. your hands guide one of his hands under your skirt. his palm rests in your pussy. wetness going through the fabric. a filthy groan leaves his mouth. “take it off for me, angel.”

you do as you're told. lowering your underwear to your ankles and picking it up from the floor. you hand it to him, watching him bring your underwear to his face, sniffing your scent. “cute,” he says, before he kisses you. hands finding the buttons of your shirt, undressing you. leaving quick pecks on your lips, he guides you to his hotel bed. you drop yourself on the surface, staring intently at him standing in front of the bed. “show me how much you want me.” his glossy eyes darken at the sight of you spreading in the bed as you do what he wants. your black skirt lifted up, showing your wet pussy. your fingers slide between your folds, before inserting two in your cunt, remembering the times you touched yourself thinking it was him.

your head pulls back, eyes shut, feeling a sweet warmth in your intimate area. your mouth opening to let out little gasps, while your fingers move rhythmically and quickly in and out of your pussy, hitting hardly your spot. “jen-o,” you pant with a whine. the only mention of his name on your glossy lips makes his dick twitch inside his pants. he sits in the bed, eyes glued on your fingers stroking your cunt. your back arch as you feel the flames spreading inside you, his hands stopping you from reaching your climax. a wave of spasms shakes your body, as you bite your lips, opening your eyes, before he uses the same hand that pulled out your fingers from your pussy to insert his own. “let me.”

his movements are by far more precise and agile than yours. his long fingers going in and out, as you stirred and hissed and twitched your face in pleasure under the blackhair's gaze. his free hand goes to your collarbone, restraining you from moving under his touch. the wet sounds filling the room with your whimpers and moans, feeling his fingers increase intensity and speed, driving you insane, making a mess of babbling and incoherent words. your eyesight going black when he hit your sweet spot repeatedly, limbs going numb, before the fire pools and spread in your core, to the rest of your body. legs pressing together as he keeps flicking his fingers inside, your walls contracting and pulsing in his digits.

he lets you go to lick your arousal from his fingers, humming in an instance. “so sweet.” he states. “fuck, let me taste a little more.” you feel his breath in your pussy, before his tongue wipes out your sensitive core. your hands go to his hair, feeling him licking and sucking you. your legs spread open, as he dives into your pussy with heavy breath.

he detaches from your pussy and sits up on the bed. his hands seek yours and climb you on his lap without difficulty due to your muscles still stiff, body feeling lightweight. he kisses your neck and lips. hands disappearing under your skirt sensing his fingers testing your ass, sliding his index finger along the length, until finding your hole, inserting his digit with a quick move. your body stutter as the warm feeling embraces you, starting to wiggle while his finger fucks you. it's a new feeling for you, arching your back due to the strange pleasure that hits you. starting to grind against his lap. his free hand goes to your back, unfastening your bra. his thumb rubs circles in your nipple while his mouth wraps the other one, sucking gently.

he stops his fingers while lifting you with one arm enough to pull down his pants. “are you gonna be a good girl and ride this dick? mmm.” you nod effusively. he releases his length and it hit your leg, twitching. your hands go to your skirt, but he stops you, “leave it on, you look cute.” glancing at his bulge you think that it must hurt him. so you don't waste time after he puts a condom in, taking it on your hands and plunging it inside, already craving it. a sweet burn embraces your pussy due to his thickness. stretching you out. adjusting and wriggling on his length. jeno lets out a rasping grunt before he makes you bounce on his lap. pounding into his dick, your vision fades to black, sensing the waves of pleasure washing you. your breathy moans and soft whines mixing with his guttural sounds. kissing his lips, grinding against him. awakening all your nerve endings.

you contract your walls feeling his dick twitch, before pushing it deeper, the dizziness clouding your senses as you go up and down, constantly hitting your core, almost seeing stars. “fuck, i'm gonna cum.” his raspy voice warns. you go faster and harder, riding him to his climax. feeling his dick, pulsating against your walls, you grind him, rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his cock still hard. your moves becoming sloppy the more you approach your orgasm, finally exploding and throbbing around his length.

you pant, exhausted. feeling mind blurry and body buzzing on top of him.

“sit on my face,” he hisses, lifting you up with ease. his body rests on the mattress as you climb to his chest, hands holding you for support before you sit down on his face. nose rubbing your clit.

you let out a little moan before you start moving. his hands holding your thighs tightly while you rock your hips into his face. tongue licking along your folds, nose stroking your clit, grinding against him, mixing your juices with his saliva. his warm breath hitting your core sweetly while he mumbles “taste so good.” speeding your moves as the knot in your stomach tightens. quivering and crying out because his tongue feels so good, before releasing your extasis in his mouth. your orgasm washes you over, dissolving in shockwaves.

you stroke his hair while he force you to rock your hips along his mouth. feeling so satisfied it hurts. “s-too much...” you cry, trying to stop him from moving you, but he's stronger, so it doesn't happen. “go on, darling, a little more.” he mutters into your core, sending shivers through your body due to the sensation. you swallow, deeply. “let me... i want to taste you too, ” you confess, fluttering your eyes because of how sensitive you were.

you hop off his body and drop your knees in front of him.

holding his cock in your hands, starting to move them up and down. he's already hard. you strike your tongue along his length, hearing his throaty breathing. “put it in your mouth, yeah?” he urges you. your warm mouth receives his cock with pleasure. sucking gently and watching him stare at you while you do it. tongue going to the underside of his shaft before returning to the tip, swollen and red. inserting it with ease until it hits the back of your throat. “you're taking it so well,” he says, breathy. you hum with his cock still in your mouth, causing him to swear. watching him so needy and agitated for you. oh, you wish you were the only one who could see him like that. his cock feeling so good, his tip resting on your tongue as you stroke him. feeling his flavourful seed spilling in your mouth before you swallow it.

you get up from the ground wiping the corner of your lips, staring at him, seeking his approval. “have i done it right?” you wonder. his hand caressed your cheek before sliding into your mouth. “mmm,” he grants. he taste himself on your lips.

“now, all fours on the bed. i'd like to destroy you a few times more.” strocking his length.

you feel him settle behind you, and you don't have time to get ready when his cock buries inside with a hard move. body propelled forward. his hands hold you in place before he starts to smack his hips against yours, pounding at a slow and hard pace, making you feel demolished. gasping with each thrust, your body collapses between the sheets, before he uses his strength to make you arch your back. mumbling and babbling like a fool, brainwashed by the way he's fucking you. your whole body shivering due to the overwhelming feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your abused pussy. “fu-uck.” biting your lips and rolling your eyes to the back of your head, spinning. your pulsing walls wrapping him tight while he curses a lot.

a few more thrusts are done before you release yourself around him. your limbs numbing with a white feeling. mouth part open letting out incoherent words, mind going blank. you feel his grip on your legs, turning you around, now facing him. “want to stop?” he asks, hovering over you and leaving kisses on your neck and chest. his eyes meeting your eyes, watching you smile languidly shaking your head. he smiles before he pulls in. “good girl.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #♡jeno #jeno drabbles

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15-lizards · 1 year

Text

Okay I’ve had some renewed ideas for kings landing fashion bc the whole city is just a separate ecosystem

When Rhaella and Joanna were still alive, they had this “classic” silhouette going on, Joanna bc Tywin wanted her to look both modest and elegant (bc the lady of the west isn’t gonna look like a hooker or a bum- Tywin probably) and Rhaella probably to cover up bruises (Aerys I will see you in hell). Anyways this kind of look probably originates in the westerlands, and since the Lannisters were big names in KL, everyone wanted to emulate them, and so all the ladies began to wear big skirts, wide sleeves, natural waists, and square necklines, often times with a kerchief and some type of hood for more modesty.

By the time Cersei’s queen, things more or less stay the same, as she wants to emulate her mother in some type of remembrance. Though fashion is noticeably a bit more gaudy/opulent bc Cersei loves to show off and of course everyone’s gonna follow her lead. However the silhouette is basically unchanged, and everyone still wears it, even Sansa when she comes down from the north when she tries to emulate Cersei (isn’t that picture on the right just so baby Sansa arriving at kings landing 💔)

And then everyone’s favorite shit stirrers (the Tyrells) pull up. They do nothing in moderation, everything is done in lavish extremes. Giant puffy sleeves at the shoulders that tighten at their wrists, waistlines that start at their sternums, boobs pushed up to high heaven, and cloth of gold and mother of pearl and silk and chiffon everywhere. It’s a hot girl long summer in Kings Landing when Margaery is queen

Men probably toe a real thin line for fashion in the city. They’re looking for a middle ground of tyrell/Lannister flashiness while still trying to look masculine and serious bc Tywin doesn’t want any little gay boys at court (sorry Loras). But the guys are probably divided by faction, so at any time you can see ether the bright colors and extra detailing of the Tyrells or the simple and sturdy but well made clothing leftover from the Lannister/Baratheon era.

And what I think is super interesting is that at some point, Margaery and Cersei’s respective influences have to collide. Over time, the city sees a combination of the two silhouettes as the two factions intertwine. It’s most popular with people trying to curry favor from both courts, those who want to impress Margaery but also stay on Cersei’s good side. The look is essentially a bloating of the originally Rhaella/Joanna look. Giant sleeves, puffy skirts, and super excessive detailing paired with the square neck, and natural waist of that classic look.

#ASOIAF #ASOIAF hair and clothing #hannah posting men’s clothing? misandry era over ❤️#but um what do we think ab this anthropology look at the recent history of fashion in a fake city 😀

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thisisnotthenerd · 5 days

Text

The Legend Lore Database

This is another use of the Legend Lore spell. All information herein is only that of legendary importance.

[a more complete database. i took some artistic liberties. see here for the updating document]

Legendary Individuals

Deities / Deific Entities

Ankarna

Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Formerly the Giant Deity of Summer, Justice and the Harvest, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister to Ruvina, Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow

Spouse of Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Cassandra / Nightmare King

Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night, Patron of the Tribes of Sylvaire

Formerly the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming, Rí Aisling Olc

Raised from their Undead form by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees

Sibling of Galicaea, Elven Goddess of the Moon, and Sol, Human God of the Sun

Spouse of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Stark Father of Baron from the Baronies

Eidolons

Seven Sisters, Elemental Spirits of the Universe and Hands of the Gods

From Eldest to Youngest

Chronoa, Eidolon of Time, of the Astral and Ethereal Planes

Terra, Eidolon of Earth, of the Elemental Plane of Earth

Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire, of the Elemental Plane of Fire

Nera, Eidolon of Water, of the Elemental Plane of Water

Zefira, Eidolon of Air, of the Elemental Plane of Air

Anima, Eidolon of Life, the Beginning of All Things

Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

Trapped in Enchanted Mirrors created by Logran Soulforger, of which the only way out was Infinity

Galicaea / Lida

Elven Deity of the Moon, Patron of the Elves of Fallinel

Patron of Lycanthropes in her aspect as Lida

Sister of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Struck her Sister from memory by way of the Sylvarian Heresy

Helio

Human God of Corn

Son of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and a mortal woman

Followed by the Cult of the Harvestmen, who sought the Apocalypse through perditional contradoxy

Jane Wren

Pirate Goddess of New Horizons, Freedom, and Adventure

She who stands atop the Ramble, overlooking the City of Leviathan

Kahaerin

The Storm King, the Wrathful Primordial of Storms

Perpetually in search of his lost Daughter

Logran Soulforger

Dwarven God of the Forge, He who Makes the World

Created the Enchanted Mirrors to capture the Eidolons in Finite Form, While Leaving Escape in Infinity

Did not Commune with his Followers after the Capture of the Eidolons, until Ostentatia Wallace, Prophet of the Forge, Joined him in his Workshop

Night Yorb

Speak Not of the Night Yorb

The Manta Ray of Darkness, they who would herald an age of darkness through a slow apocalypse

Currently Sealed by the Solar Lasso in the Hangvan

Ollie

Rad Dwarven God of Shredding, Patron of Skateboarders

Ruvina

Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Sol

Human God of the Sun, Patron of the Humans of Highcourt and Solace

Father of Helio, Human God of Corn

Once ousted from his position by Arthur Aguefort, who proceeded to never leave his office and shit in a corner

Umberlee

Goddess of the Deep Sea, Patron of that which lies in the briny depths

Punisher of Sinners who Enter Her Waters

Prohibits artifacts which control the weather

NPCs

Aelwyn Abernant

She who assassinated the first Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

She who sank the Harpy, Flagship of the Fleet of Kalvaxus

She who determined the second Elven Oracle, Adaine Abernant

Caused the initiation of war between the nations of Solace and Fallinel

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Plague of the Shadow Cat

Acting Mistress of the Compass Points Library, in lieu of Ayda Aguefort

Arthur Aguefort

Founder and Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

He who caused the Sun to Fall

Paramour of the Last Phoenix

Former Paramour of the previous Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

Founder of the School of Chronomancy

Father of Ayda Aguefort

Asha Hammerheart

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Ayda Aguefort

The Mistress of the Compass Points LIbrary, Quartermaster of the Knowledge of Leviathan

Paramour of Figueroth the Infaethable, the Archdevil of Rebellion, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Creator of Adaine’s Furious Fist

Bakur / Athenriel

Infernal Servant of Ankarna, the Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Formerly Athenriel of the Faeth Lineage

Former Owner of the Armor of Pride

Cathilda “The Black” Ceili

Legendary Pirate, the Widow in Black, whose daggers flash with death and destruction

Crewmember aboard the Hangman

Elder of the Ramble, who defended Leviathan amidst the wrath of the Storm King

Chungledown Bim

Legendary Mouth-Shitter

Archnemesis of Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Survivor of Captain James Whitclaw's attack on the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Braved the Forest of the Nightmare King alone and escaped unscathed

Highest-level Warlock of the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Court of Elders

Leaders of the Tribes of Sylvaire and the Great Unicorn

Destroyed the Name of the Goddess of Mystery in the Sylvarian Heresy, in league with clerics of Galicaea

Eleminthindriel

The First Elven Oracle, succeeded by Adaine Abernant

Member of the First Council of Chosen

She who prophesied the second rise and fall of Kalvaxus

Garthy O’Brien

Prodigious Descendant of Zajiri Celestials

Impresario of the Gold Gardens, Leviathan’s hub for pleasure and sanctuary

The Curse Breaker who fought the effects of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Child of Ayda Aguefort

Guardian of Ayda Aguefort

Name contains an anagram for the Night Yorb

Gilear Faeth

The Chosen One

Current eldest male descendant of the lineage of Athenriel

Penultimate Inheritor of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

He who stopped three Apocalypses with wishes from a Puppy

Gorthalax the Insatiable

Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Formerly Gorthiel, the Seraph of Eating the Right Amount of Food / Temperance

Father of Figueroth the Infaethable, Archdevil of Rebellion and Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Grafmy Rootdrinker

The Druidic Leader who pushed back the Curse of the Nightmare King on the Forest of Sylvaire

Hallariel Seacaster née Lomenelda

The Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Daughter of Telemaine Lomenelda, Heir to Kei Lumennura

Widow of William “Old Bill” Seacaster, the Scourge of the Nine Hells

Jamina Joy

The Bosun of Leviathan

She who keeps the City afloat

She who contains a Wish for the Welfare of Leviathan

Kalina

The Shadow Cat

Right Hand of the Nightmare King

Familiar of Cassandra

The Cursed Plague of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Kalvaxus

Former Emperor of the Red Waste

Allied with the Nightmare King and the Undead of the Necronomikron

Prophesied to rise once more at the word of Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel

When Kalvaxus once again beholds his glittering treasure And seven maidens once more are chained at the mouth of his lair When war befalls the realm And a king and queen are crowned anew in Solace Then will the Emperor of the Red Waste be released from bondage His destruction will know no bounds The sun shall fall from the Heavens And the world as we know it shall perish forever

Former Vice Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Currently the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel of William “Old Bill” Seacaster

Karl Cleaver

Legendary Adventurer and Member of the Pact of Kyburus

Of the Cleaver lineage of Adventurers

Kora Ironbrow

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Lydia Barkrock

She who sealed Bakur in her body with rage and rage alone

The Curse of the Armor of Pride was used to excise Bakur from her body

Nuathera

The Awakened Familiar of Grafmy Rootdrinker

Leader of the Town of Arborly and Protector of the Border of Sylvaire

Octavio Costello Gainglynn

He who sailed off the edge of the World and into the Heavens

Paramour of the Solar Zarael

Pok Gukgak

Premier Agent of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force of the Plane of Bytopia

He who brought the Plague of the Shadow Cat to the nation of Solace

The first Solesian to be slayed by Kalvaxus personally in centuries

Father of Riz Gukgak, Slayer of Kalvaxus

Telemaine Lomenelda

The Greatest Elven Swordsmith, who forged Fandrangor and the Sword of Sight

Lord of Kei Lumennura, the Guardian of Elven Teens

Tectonya Karkovnya

Superintendent of the Larger Solesian School District

Legendary Wizard and Scholar of the Eidolons

She who stole the Legendarium Extrordia

Tracker O’Shaughnessy

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Curse on Sylvaire, the Forest of the Nightmare King

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Tree

Reformer of the Faith of Galicaea, Leader of Wolfsong, the Lupine Cleric of Lida

The Vulture King

Father to all Vultures, King of the Vulture Dimension

He whose body became the Royal Artifacts of the Vulture Dimension

William “Old Bill” Seacaster

He who struck down the Pirate King and Hung his Head in Gibbety Square

Captain of the Hangman

Married to Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells

Captain of the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel carved from the body of Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Yvonna of the Sundering Hills

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Zaphriel

Spirit of Endless Sky Towards Late Afternoon on a Day at the Beach with Your Feet in the Warm Sand, Just Being Chill as Hell

The Possessing Spirit of the Hangvan

PCs

Adaine Abernant:

The Second Elven Oracle, preceded by Eleminthindriel

Established the right of the Elven Oracle to be paid, via dance battle

Patron of the Oracle of Dance Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Current wielder of the Sword of Sight, Sword of the Elven Oracle

She who invoked the name of Ankarna and broke Obliviati Mori

She who sealed Bakur with the power of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Creator of Ayda’s Comprehend Subtext

Kristen Applebees:

The Chosen of Helio, God of Corn

The Creator of Yes!/Yes?

She who Resurrected Herself

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Coin

She who destroyed the Crown of the Nightmare King

The Blessed Saint of Cassandra, Deity of Mystery, Night and Magic

Figueroth Faeth:

Mortal daughter of Gorthalax the Insatiable, Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Current Archdevil of Rebellion, Figueroth the Infaethable, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Paramour of Ayda Aguefort, the Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Last of the Faeth Lineage to bear the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Currently holds dominion over the infernal domain of Ankarna, Goddess of Fire, Rage, and Conquest, due to the creation of Dawn of Justice, a song so metal it could claim an infernal domain

Riz Gukgak:

Fifth of the World of Spyre to summon the Night Yorb to the Material Plane

He who slayed the Dragon Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

First living member of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force

The Investigator who Found the Prophesied Seven Maidens

Fabian Aramais Seacaster:

Mortal son of William "Old Bill" Seacaster, Legendary Pirate and the Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells and Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Grandson of Telemaine Lomenelda, Swordsmith of the Elven Kings

He who killed William "Old Bill" Seacaster

Current wielder of Fandrangor, Sword of the North Star

Dance Champion of the Elven Oracle, the Oracle of Dance

Maximum Legend at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Gorgug Thistlespring:

He who discovered the Plague of the Shadow Cat

Creator of the Solar Lasso used to seal the Night Yorb into his personal vehicle, the Hangvan

Creator of the Barbificer Specialty, the first in the World of Spyre to combine barbarian rage and artificer spellcasting

The Greatest Wizard of Our Age, as titled by Ayda Aguefort, Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Danielle Barkstock:

Blessed of Anima, Eidolon of Life

She who assumed the form and gave voice to the Empress Anima, Eidolon of Life

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Katja Cleaver

Blessed of Terra, Eidolon of Earth

Daughter of Karl Cleaver, of the Cleaver lineage of adventurers

Friend to Horses, Rider of Cinnamon

Slayer of Jana Cleaver

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Zelda Donovan

Blessed of Zefira, Eidolon of Air

Battle Dancer of the Donovan Lineage, who was possessed by the god of wine and ecstasy in bacchanal

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Antiope Jones

Blessed of Chronoa, Eidolon of Time

She who killed Charity Blythe

Daughter of Athena and Hector Jones, of the Jones lineage of adventurers

Leader of the Reform of the Ministry of Adventure

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Penny Luckstone

Blessed of Nera, Eidolon of Water

She who revealed the Society of Shadows one of

Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Sam Nightingale:

Blessed of Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

She who released Talura upon Spyre for the first time in millennia

She who guided Talura to infinite form

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Ostentatia Wallace:

The first forge cleric to Commune with Logran Soulforger in millennia

Prophet of Logran Soulforger

Designer for the Gods

Blessed of Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn

The Goddess of the Gold Gardens

Daughter of Octavio Costello Gainglynn and Zarael

She who struck down the Storm-Druid Alamaria

Myrtle (the Bitch)

The Priestess of Storms, Devout of Umberlee, the Sinker of Ships and Collector of the Treasures of the Deep

Jack Brakkow

Unlucky Jack, he who escaped the Bilge only to sink in the depths of betrayal

The Captain of the Late Bloomer, whose crew haunts the mast kept at his side always

Legendary Adventuring Parties

The Bad Kids (Adventuring Party):

Members: Adaine Abernant, Kristen Applebees, Figueroth Faeth, Riz Gukgak, Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Gorgug Thistlespring

Slayed Daybreak, leader of the Harvestmen, and averted the apocalypse of perditional contradoxy

Defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Defeated Occularia, Queen of Sight

Defeated Captain James Whitclaw, the archnemesis of William “Old Bill” Seacaster and prevented the crowning of a new Pirate King

Demolished the Elven prison, Calethriel Tower

Defeated the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming

Defeated the Cult of the Night Yorb

Defeated the Night Yorb

The Sole Survivors of the Sundering of the Synod of Spyre

The first adventuring party in living memory to survive the Last Stand-ard Exam

The Buccaneer Buddies (Adventuring Party)

Members: Sunny Biscotto, Jack Brakkow, Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn, Cheese Stormcrank, Marcid the Typhoon, Myrtle the Bitch

Prevented the Summoning of William Seacaster for the destruction of Leviathan

Saved Leviathan from Destruction at the hands of Langley Sheffield-Harrington, Clive Mardres, the Storm-Druid Alamaria, and the Crescent Moon Trading Company

Averted the Wrath of the Storm King by disrupting the ritual of Alamaria and returning the Daughter of Storms to the briny depths

The Seven / The Maidens (Adventuring Party)

Members: Danielle Barkstock, Katja Cleaver, Zelda Donovan, Antiope Jones, Penny Luckstone, Sam Nightingale, Ostentatia Wallace

The Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Eliminated the Cult of Kalvaxus as vengeance for their capture

Cleansed the Temple of the Earth Defiant of the mutated monstrosities

Commandeered the Rombosa, the Pleasure Barge of Talcidimir Tallbreeze and kidnapped hundreds of nobles from the Baronies

Averted Project Reset, an effort by the Ministry of Adventure to cause world-ending disasters

Defeated Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things, by channeling the spirits of the Eidolons

Legendary Items

Sword of Sight

The Sword of the Elven Oracle, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda

Currently owned by the Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

Fandrangor

The Sword of the North Star, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda and gifted to the Elven King Thristwin Eversong

Currently owned by Fabian Aramais Seacaster

The Armors of Sin

Seven Suits of Infernal Armor, each forged by a different Infernal Being and associated with the Sins assigned to them by name

Armor of Gluttony - Armor Carved of White Bone, armed with a massive spiked net. Chosen Armor of Gorthalax the Insatiable.

Armor of Pride - Armor of Gleaming gold, armed with a Golden Halberd

Armor gifted from Ankarna to her follower Athenriel. After Athenriel took on the form of Bakur, the armor passed through his lineage patrilineally until it was gifted to Gorthalax the Insatiable.

The curse of the armor transferred to the eldest male descendants of the lineage with the death of each previous holder of the curse. The most recent of these was Gilear Faeth. Upon reunification with the line of Athenriel, the curse was left in a flux state, until it was taken on by the Dark Mistress and Archdevil of the Bottomless Pit, Figueroth the Infaethable.

The Curse was broken and sealed in the Sword of Sight, and later used to remove the containment of Bakur from the body of Lydia Barkrock

Armor of Lust - Armor of Jet Black Leather, stitched together with a zipper over the mouth.

Armor of Envy - Armor formed of Pure Mirror

Armor of Wrath - Armor of Bleeding Iron, armed with two double-sided flails/scourges.

Armor of Greed

Armor of Sloth

Owned by Gorthalax the Insatiable and kept in the Bottomless Pit until stolen by the Scourge of the Nine Hells, Bill Seacaster.

The Transubstantiations of the Nightmare King

Four symbols of the Unnamed Goddess’ power, converted into four curses which spread the power of the King of the Dark Dreaming

The Coin, a curse placed on the hoard of Kalvaxus that allowed the Nightmare King to possess those who had knowledge of their wealth’s origin (Dragon Madness). This curse came from the trans-substantiation of the spellbook of the Unnamed Goddess, now known as Cassandra. DIspelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees.

The Plague, a curse placed on the familiar of the Unnamed Goddess, Kalina the Shadow Cat. This curse converted Kalina into a plague that manifested as various illusionary powers, with additional strength within the borders of Sylvaire. Dispelled by Aelwyn Abernant.

The Curse, a curse that bound celestials who attempted to enter the Nightmare King’s Forest and utilized their energies to power the mycelium web of trans-substantiations. This curse originated from the cottage of the Unnamed Goddess. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Tree, a curse on the arcane focus of the Unnamed Goddess, a broomstick which became the Tree at the center of Sylvaire. This curse altered the shape of the Forest to suit the fears of those who entered–the more confident a traveler was in their path, the further they traveled from the center of the Forest. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Crown of the Nightmare King

The last remnant of the Nightmare King after the Fall of Kalvaxus

A talisman capable of anchoring an extraplanar being to a world as if they were native to that plane

The Source of a great deal of power for the other trans-substantiations

Powerfully Cursed for mortal beings. Singular Curse broken by Garthy O’Brien

Dispelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees, through her Honest Worship of Doubt and her Resurrection of the Goddess Cassandra

The Daughter of Storms

Marble Relief that contains the soul of the daughter of Kahaerin, the Storm King, who calls the wrath of storms when it is brought above the surface of the deep sea

The Legendarium Extrordia

Divinatory Artifact that tracks the classification and progression of quests in the world of Spyre

Watches and Wards

Protective Ward created by the Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel, that prevents harmful summonings and conjurations on the grounds of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Only removable from the Aguefort Adventuring Academy Library by Arthur Aguefort and the Elven Oracle. Removed by Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #pirates of leviathan #the seven #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids #buccaneer buddies #the seven maidens #long post #legend lore #dimension 20 meta

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ash-rigby · 1 month

Text

Verdant Transmigration (Spring/Fertility God) [M/M]

Featured Characters: Male human and a male nature god.

Description: Marion, a cleric of one of his town's four resident nature deities, undergoes a ritual to become the next Vessel for Ta'lir who, among many things, is a god of fertility. A merging with Ta'lir requires a more physical element than a purely spiritual one.

Contains: Masked Nonhuman, Size Difference, Aphrodisiacs, Sex Magic, Fellatio, Hand Jobs, Self Lubrication, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Excessive Cum, Mild Cardiophilia.

Completion Date: March 23rd, 2024

Word Count: 3485

This isn't the next requested piece but it was the one I was getting ready to submit to this year's Spring issue of M❤️NSTER. I wound up not making the deadline but I like it too much to wait a year to share it, so I finished it up and here it is!

Marion walked into the ritual chamber under the gazes of many, his nude body catching the flickering firelight. He knelt on the floor of the temple as one of the other priests began to lay out a circle in sacred earth around him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drawing in the spicy yet floral smell of the incense. Drums beat softly on all sides and the sound of low flutes seemed to tickle the nape of his neck.

He wasn’t nervous, as those around him expected him to be; he had spent the last three days since the previous Vessel’s death in deep meditation to prepare for being the next. Adola was a magnificent woman, a constant through all of Marion’s twenty-five years. A solemn presence with a gentle, motherly hand. Her grace had inspired him to devote his life to the god she carried within her—whom he would carry in her stead.

His city enjoyed the watchful eye of four nature gods, corresponding to the seasons and each with their unique divine favors to bestow. Some blessings and miracles, others that brought simple comforts through the unavoidable trials and pains of life. Whatever their will, it was channeled through a human host; a Vessel that embodied all they were and served the people. But a mortal body is a mortal body, releasing both spirits in death.

With Adola’s passing, Ta’lir—a god of Spring—had returned to the Ethereal Grove where he fell into dormancy, awaiting rebirth into the mortal realm. The Transmigration ritual for each god involved a performance to inspire a merging of their spirit and that of the willing Vessel. There was the exuberant dance for Summer, a melancholy yet ultimately hopeful song for Autumn, and a grueling test of endurance through cold for Winter.

Ta’lir, among other things, represented fertility. Pleasures of the flesh were a common mode of worshipping him. As a priest of Ta’lir’s temple, Marion had partaken many times; alone, with one or two other clerics, and in the grand orgies. He was more than prepared for what was required of him in the ritual ahead. A spiritual and physical union with Ta’lir.

Marion felt a presence step in front of him. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of bare feet padding against stone. He opened his eyes to see the High Priestess smiling warmly down at him, her face framed by long, brown hair. She held an ornate cup carved from wood in her hand which she leaned down to hand to him.

“Euphoric passage to the Grove,” she said in blessing as Marion took the cup.

He brought it to his lips, familiar with its contents. The cooled, maroon-coloured tea was brewed from a dried mix containing amiculus clover petals; a powerful aphrodisiac despite its mild, unremarkable flavour. Its influence on the body was enough to carry over even in the spirit through astral projection. Euphoric indeed.

Marion gave the empty cup back to the High Priestess. Another cleric, short in stature, took it from her and replaced it with a shallow bowl of dark paint. She knelt and began to mark him with the shapes and lines that would be branded into his skin once he merged with Ta’lir, denoting him as his Vessel.

The tea quickly took effect. Heat swirled in Marion’s stomach before migrating lower as a pleasantly tingling pulse. His cock throbbed, gradually filling without a single touch until it stood erect. Need washed over him but he would not be stroking himself or seeking partners in the crowd around him. For once, that wasn’t a part of things; his body and ecstasy were promised solely to Ta’lir that day.

Marion breathed, his cock full and heavy. The High Priestess’ touch was warm and soft, her captivating bluish-grey eyes frequently holding his as she worked. He shivered at the memories of times he had the honor of worshipping with her. A hitched gasp left him, hips jolting slightly, as she finished the final line—a single, agonizingly slow stroke up the underside of his shaft.

She left him panting in the center of the circle, stepping back to join the other clerics who began to chant. The sacred earth gradually gained a bright green glow. Fractal patterns drew themselves into existence and spread inwards from it. As they reached Marion, the lines painted on him erupted with the same light. He was struck by the extraordinary pleasure of it.

His entire body felt alight and sensitive. Nobody was touching him, but the very air seemed to caress and tease. The chanting grew louder, the glow around him flaring as the ripples of invisible sensation intensified. It was like a fire; wild, blazing, hungry. Nipping, licking and leaving trails of desperation across every inch of him.

He fell back and only just managed to catch and hold himself up on his shaking arms, legs spreading open of their own accord. The flutes faded out but the drums beat harder, the sound of them pounding through him. Somehow in perfect time with every throb of his leaking cock.

Marion tilted his head back, face angled at the ceiling bathed in that green light. Splayed out like this—wantonly moaning and achingly erect—he couldn’t help but feel like a beast crying out for another of its kind to mate. With that thought, the words came to him, spilling from his lips as if someone else had seized his voice.

“Take me, Ta’lir,” he implored to his dormant god. “Oh, Lord of my flesh. My erotic master. Take me!”

His vision became an all-consuming white. Images flooded his mind but did not linger on a single one for long. Wet, dripping holes swallowing his shaft. Slick cocks rubbing against his own. Tangles of hot, sweaty bodies thrusting and grinding. Groping hands. Eager mouths. On top of the drums and chanting came a rising, desperate cacophony of disembodied moans.

Just as Marion felt it all coming to a head, like he might just cum, a hand was placed on the center of his chest. It gave a hefty push and everything stopped.

The surging, full-body pleasure was whisked away in a second. Though his cock still strained and he could feel the effects of the tea coursing through him. Silence settled around him like a fog, broken only by his heaving breaths.

Marion was outside; he could feel a cool breeze on his naked form. There was birdsong and the whisper of leaves. The smell of earth, flowers, and petrichor filled his senses. He only realized then that the white light was gone, leaving darkness. His eyes were closed. Feeling slightly foolish, he opened them and awe took his breath.

The Grove was laid out in all its glory before him.

He was kneeling on a stone circle, carved with the same patterns that had sprung up in light back in the temple. Four tall, mossy pillars rose around him, made into the shape of rabbits standing on their hind legs, noses pointed skyward. Beyond that was a rich, verdant sprawl; long grasses, full bushes, and a dense wood that ringed the clearing he was in.

Directly ahead was a short staircase which led to a colossal tree. Marion gazed at its thick trunk and spotted a carved-out portion in the middle which contained a floating, glowing green mass. Lower still, sitting on a throne that melded into the tree, was the unmoving form of Ta’lir.

Marion stood, not expecting the strength in his legs given what he had just gone through, and walked towards him. He had seen all of the sculptures, scrolls, and murals depicting Ta’lir’s likeness, but nothing could have prepared him for the radiance of the genuine article.

Even sitting, the god was tall. Whatever visage he had, if any, was completely obscured by a wooden mask of a hare’s head that bore three eyes. There was a thick, lush mantle of vegetation growing from his shoulders that flared behind his head, speckled through with flowering clover. The torso and arms of the body looked carved from wood, though sleek. Marion could see the intricacies of it. There were joints that would allow Ta’lir to move with the ease of flesh and bone.

The chest was a hollow like the one he had seen in the tree, though the hole was grated over with thin, uneven, wooden lines that intersected and split here and there. The result was a myriad of varying-sized, ovular holes. There were no innards to speak of; sunlight peaked through them to show the solid plane of the other side.

The wood of the upper half faded into the more flesh-like appearance of the lower, though green and mossy. Marion swallowed when his eyes travelled there and he laid eyes on it. Though dormant, Ta’lir was sporting a large, impressive erection. His thick shaft, with its enticing slight upward curve, stood proudly. Waiting. Propelled by piety and arousal that had far from relented, Marion wasted no time in kneeling between his god’s legs.

His hands lighted on Ta’lir’s thighs. The cock before him was almost intimidating, but reverence won out. He mouthed at the hanging, virile balls before working his way upwards. The taste was an ambrosia on his watering, roaming tongue. He licked the sensitive underside of the head, bringing his hand up to the shaft as he did. The sheer girth of it showed itself as his fingers couldn’t close around it.

Marion closed his lips over the round tip, stroking all he could. As he did, he felt a sudden throb against his palm. It came with a sound; a deep, heavy heartbeat sounding above him. He looked up to see the mass in the tree beginning to pulse just as a bright green glow came to the eyes of Ta’lir’s mask.

The large body drew in a breath—into what lungs, Marion didn’t know—and released it with a low, appreciative groan. Ta’lir shifted, his head rolling on his shoulders before tilting down. Marion’s heart pounded as their eyes met, but he didn’t dare stop; he couldn’t bear the thought of taking his mouth or hands off Ta’lir.

A chuckle, cavernous and gratified, resounded in his mind rather than outward.

“Hello, dear one,” Ta’lir said, his voice thrumming through Marion’s entire being. It was reminiscent of the feeling he experienced during the ritual, though far less sourceless. “And have my thanks for—mmhn—for restoring me.”

Marion responded by taking Ta’lir further into his mouth, bobbing his head and pumping his hand over hot, turgid flesh. The god moaned and it went straight to Marion’s dick, spurring such an intense throb that his eyes briefly rolled. He could cum like this. Just from sucking Ta’lir’s cock. Just from the divine presence of his voice. He upped his pace, yearning to please and dizzy from the pleasure of every noise his efforts worked out.

“I know you,” Ta’lir said. “This eagerness…this lust. Oh, sweet Marion.”

With a wet sound, Marion pulled off of Ta’lir, his hand never stilling as his chest warmed in admiration.

“My reputation precedes me, Lord?” he asked breathlessly, eyelids flickering from the simple action of Ta’lir brushing a tender finger behind his ear—what it was going to feel like getting fucked by this being in this state was beyond his comprehension.

“Come here,” Ta’lir said, tapping his thigh. “Let me see you.”

Marion obeyed, climbing up into his god’s lap and straddling him. His cock raged, weeping onto Ta’lir; a simple but effective tribute. He was panting, well aware of his hole’s proximity to what every part of his insides ached for. Three glowing eyes gazed upon him. Though no emotion could be discerned from them, he could sense the radiating fondness.

“Such a handsome figure,” Ta’lir marveled, fingertips lightly trailing over his Vessel’s sides. The smile in his tone was felt. “And this…”

His hand went to Marion’s dick, taking it between his massive forefinger and thumb. He began to stroke. Slow pass up. Pause. Slow pass down. The pattern repeated as he remained fixated on Marion’s face, drinking in his moans.

“My previous Vessel was a woman without this,” Ta’lir said. “I did love the change of pace, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss burying myself.”

Marion gasped; unable to speak, shaking from his god’s touch and the waves of his voice.

“You must get a lot of attention,” Ta’lir continued, stroking a little faster. “Such a big, gorgeous cock. This heat…and you throb so strongly. I can’t wait for it to be mine. Oh…we’ll do great things together.”

Marion felt his other hand reach to caress the small of his back, gliding down over the mounds of his ass. A long, dexterous finger breached him with surprising ease; was it his imagination or was he wet? His spirit’s burning desire to take Ta’lir into him in more ways than one must have manifested such things. That one, brief coherent thought melted away as he was deeply penetrated, a second finger swiftly joining the first.

They pumped rapidly, striking true against that near-blindingly sensitive spot inside him. His body jolted, back locking into a rigid, trembling arch as his breath halted. He was lightheaded by the time he was able to suck in air again through in quick, whimpering heaves. With a loud wail, he partially collapsed against Ta’lir, his fingers curling onto the inconsistent lattice that was his chest.

“T-Ta-Ta’lir! I can’t, I can’t—ahh!” Marion cried. “I’ll c-cum. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum! I’m—!”

“Not until I do,” Ta’lir corrected, almost sing-song. “By what other power did you think we become one? I’ve been asleep for days…allow me some amusement.”

Marion’s head swum, time becoming an unknown blur. He wasn’t sure how long he experienced Ta’lir fucking him on his fingers, but every second was exquisite. If one was keen to equate the word to denial, that is; and he was.

“You’re amazing, Marion,” Ta’lir praised. “Sucking me in so well. If this is how you take my fingers, then—.”

“Please, Lord,” Marion begged, forgetting himself at a mere insinuation. “I…I need it—.”

“Not yet, my dear,” Ta’lir said, probing faster into the wet, yielding passage. “Not yet.”

True to Ta’lir’s promise, release didn’t come. Marion remained tottering on its edge. He bounced unconsciously, meeting the thrusts of those thick, relentless fingers. His cock felt engorged, hugged by his balls as his body was trapped in those euphoric seconds before orgasm. The roiling pressure, the fever overtaking his shaft, feeling the rivers he was leaking. He had never known such ecstasy; the Grove’s influence was a marvel.

Marion felt no exhaustion when Ta’lir finally removed his fingers. There was only exhilaration and hunger. He shifted his hips, moving until his ass found Ta’lir’s dick. Meeting the glowing eyes once more, he nudged it insistently. His hole was dripping. Twitching. Wanting.

There was that chuckle again. “How rude of me. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Lord…thank you.”

Marion lined himself up and lowered down. His body shouldn’t have been able to take it entirely. Couldn’t have been able to. But it did, opening up as if driven by pure devotion. Every broad inch claimed him slowly until Ta’lir bottomed out.

“Oh…oh, you’re perfect,” Ta’lir praised.

The joy of such a connection with his god was overwhelming and Marion nearly cried. He sat there in hopelessly aroused disbelief, stuffed full and feeling every pulse that throbbed alongside that constant heartbeat. It grew faster as he began to grind.

He kept it slow; now that Ta’lir was inside him, he found himself wanting to savour it. Shallow thrusts were achieved as he lifted up slightly and slid back down. Even that pace felt like being stirred up, the sheer size of Ta’lir’s cock stretching him past his usual limits. His sweltering walls caressed and squeezed—mostly of his own doing, but involuntary clenches were inevitable.

“Yes,” Ta’lir breathed, a visible shiver running through his large frame. “Dance for me.”

His hands came up to cup Marion’s undulating torso, settling over his ribs as the thumbs found his nipples. The wide pads rolled and teased. Marion arched into the touch, expelling a breath that was equal parts a moan and a laugh; it tickled for a moment before settling on pleasure.

It wasn’t long before Ta’lir took control again. Effortlessly, he began to lift Marion up and down his cock. He would get him halfway up the shaft before dropping him to the hilt, that mysterious slick leaking out around him. His head tilted back against the throne as he groaned long and deep.

“Take me…take me.”

Marion’s breath hitched at hearing his own words echoed at him. “I’m yours.”

Ta’lir growled, a sound juxtaposed with the serene herbivore his mask depicted. It was more arousing than it had any right to be. He gripped Marion’s hips and began to pound up into him, grunting with each thrust. His cock seemed impossibly harder; thicker, swelling in its confines.

Marion’s mouth was open, stunned silence occasionally broken by moans cracking his voice to a higher register. He swallowed up that monstrous shaft as if he had been made as its sheath. Like he would be hollow without it. But Ta’lir would fill his empty spaces. Until death parted their spirits.

“I’m yours, I’m yours—ahhh, I’m yours!” he chanted.

He felt himself moving. Ta’lir was standing, hands supporting Marion’s ass as his cock stilled firmly inside. He turned them so he could kneel backwards on his throne and press Marion into its back. His thrusting resumed, faster than his previous position had allowed. A quick clap of meeting flesh filled the Grove.

Marion clutched at Ta’lir. The scent of earth and something more akin to a mammalian musk flooded his nose. The latter grew stronger the more Ta’lir thrust, close to overwhelming the rest and laced with intoxicating pheromones. Marion could practically taste it and drool began to gather in his mouth. He moaned, his hole becoming a desperate vice against the burning beast of a shaft plunging into him.

Gone were Ta’lir’s words, replaced by growls and other feral noises of pleasure as he slammed. Those once-gentle hands gripped, digging deeply into the meat of Marion’s ass. His precum was abundant and incessant in its flow, adding to the lewd squelch of every thrust. It had to be running down his balls, making a mess and dripping onto his throne.

The ever-present heartbeat above their writhing forms raced. Marion was vaguely aware of the glow of that pulsing mass reaching for them in vein-like streaks down the tree’s trunk. Their markings ignited and he felt the first tell-tale throbs making their way through his cock, matching the pace of that pulse. He was close. They were close.

“Cum with me,” Ta’lir said, his voice rough. “Cum…with…!”

He suddenly stilled deep inside and warmth surged into Marion a split second before his own orgasm gripped him. He wailed, explosive ecstasy rushing into every extremity as he excessively came. It seemed endless, spurting from him as his hole milked a similar, copious stream from Ta’lir.

There was a flood; dripping down his sides, flowing into him. Pump after pump. Two voices, loudly moaning, were beginning to be drowned out by the furious thumping of the tree’s pulse.

Marion’s vision whited and—.

He was back in the temple, kneeling in that circle. His abdomen and thighs were covered in splatters of his own cum. It didn’t cease upon his return, pleasure working through him and making his hips buck as his cock continued to burst. His hole twitched uncontrollably; he could still feel the heat of Ta’lir’s seed and the stretch of his girth. The room was silent save for his own unrestrained moans as his divine orgasm was given proper reverence.

A faintness washed over Marion as the magic tied to the ritual abated. He collapsed and was descended upon by some of the other clerics. They welcomed him back—a greeting for him and their god. He was vaguely aware of being wrapped in multi-coloured, flower-embroidered cloth and carried to the baths. Gentle hands cleaned him with steaming, pleasant-smelling water as he continued to shiver.

Through heavy eyes, he inspected what he could see of himself. The painted marks had permanently bonded to his skin in swirling lines of brilliant emerald green. But otherwise, he felt no different and a distant pang of concern came to him.

Did it work? Had he been enough?

The High Priestess was carding her fingers through his hair when a familiar voice came to him, clear in his mind; murmurs of praise and contagious excitement for a promising future.

End

Masterlist

#text #spicy #ash originals #terato #exophilia #monster lover #monster boyfriend #nature spirit #nature god #oc:ta'lir #oc:marion #i'll be getting to work on that next request now

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doodle-pops · 2 months

Text

A Lot Like Love

Erestor x reader

Request: Hello! i would like story with Erestor as first love story please ? In rivendell and the summertime vibes - @sofyawiththelves

Words: 800

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The love story of how you captured Erestor’s heart on a warm summer’s day.

Love was never an emotion Erestor claimed to have experienced, but understood the raw passionate chokehold it placed on people. The countless novels of love at first and love conquering all played out vividly before his eyes between others. He knew what it looked like, but never felt, touched or tasted it. To imagine the colours of love whenever it struck him, should ever he be blessed to live in the moment, was serendipitous.

Erestor found himself on a stroll, meandering through the market stalls filled with merchants and local shopkeepers, searching. For what? He didn't truly know, until...

He found himself in an unprecedented state of nervousness, an unsettling sensation akin to a whirlwind of butterflies taking flight within the depths of his stomach. What made this feeling particularly absurd was the fact that it struck him in broad daylight, amidst a bustling crowd of people.

Who were you and where had you manifested from? Why had it taken him this long to notice your presence?

No matter how hard he attempted to dismiss it, he couldn’t banish this overpowering emotion. It was as though you were an unstoppable and immovable force who had infiltrated his being, someone who seemed acutely aware of the impact you had on those around you. Your enigmatic figure casually meandered through the area, seemingly oblivious to his own statue-like presence.

A sly smile graced your lips, stretching into unrestrained laughter. It was evident that you found amusement in his starstruck demeanour, the sparkle in your eyes betraying your true intentions. This façade was deliberate, he was convinced; you couldn’t possibly be so naive as to overlook the repercussions of your actions.

You strolled about with an effortless elegance, your hair adorned with flowers like a personal halo, and a natural radiance that outshone the sun itself. The summer sun could not maintain its glow when you existed. It was impossible to outshine your very existence. And so, he silently cursed the heavens for placing such an angelic being on this accursed earth, forced to mingle with a motley crew of ruffians. The question that consumed his thoughts was why you had chosen to be here, among those who failed to recognize and adore them as you truly deserved.

Your garments flowed gracefully with each step, mirroring the fluidity of your body’s movements as you hopped from one vendor stall to another. Laughter erupted as you pointed out items and engagingly interacted with the vendors. For all the years he had dwelled in this city, he had been under an enchantment, unable to perceive such unfathomable beauty, magnificence, and perfection. Or perhaps it was his own eyes that had been shrouded by a veil, obscuring his view of this incredible allure.

Such magnificence should be treasured and adored, and put into poetry to be read thousands of times over and over again with cravings to capture the essence of how ethereal you are.

He yearned to reach out and grasp the aura that surrounded you, the presence that enveloped your being and bestowed upon them such mirth. He wished to immerse himself in it, letting it warm his soul and dispel the lingering coldness that had haunted him for years. You were his reason to smile, his reason to exist, his reason to truly live after years of mere existence. He was willing to allow your sunshine to penetrate his life and bring about the change he so desperately needed—for you, for himself.

With the noon sun still high in the sky and the streets relatively deserted, he saw an opportunity. No one seemed to care about his identity at that moment as he strode purposefully through the vendor stalls, making his way towards the person who had ignited this newfound hope within him.

With your focus locked onto a small, exquisitely beautiful hairpin, he sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his hair. Now was the moment, just like in the romance stories he read where the man would approach the woman and swoon her with something unforgettable. This was his moment to repeat all his years of fantasising.

Calling out to you, he watched as you turned to meet his gaze; his eyes capturing a mix of anxiety, courage, and hope. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Everything fell into perfect alignment, he spoke softly, capturing your attention that was the start of forever. “May I be acquainted with such a magnificent beauty?”

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

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curiositydooropened · 5 months

Text

Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley.

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?”

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck.

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin.

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass.

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!”

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.”

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage.

“Yes.” She said. “Me.”

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?”

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper.

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?”

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.”

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her.

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides.

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.”

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -”

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?”

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well.

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled.

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned.

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below.

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand.

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips.

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement.

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again.

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses.

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?”

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand.

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have.��

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it.

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets.

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction.

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?”

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side.

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds.

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored.

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.”

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head.

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you.

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin.

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.”

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.”

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch.

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?”

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds.

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void.

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her.

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams.

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone.

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them.

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze.

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers.

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again.

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him.

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces.

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on.

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void.

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime.

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium.

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders.

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns.

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip.

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate.

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in.

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head.

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?”

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page.

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.”

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb.

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch.

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.”

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.”

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips.

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie.

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!”

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound.

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?”

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside.

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust.

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.”

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her.

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?”

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own.

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes.

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house.

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house.

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key.

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!”

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!”

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.”

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin.

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you.

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs.

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called.

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.”

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes.

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming.

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you.

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet.

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies.

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek.

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own.

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar.

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home.

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.”

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors.

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air.

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them.

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear.

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline.

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips.

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions.

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light.

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away.

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?”

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?”

“Let me see.”

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze.

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name.

“Should we call the nurse?”

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?”

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus.

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?”

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you.

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink.

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there.

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips.

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.”

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.”

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you.

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?”

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found.

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine.

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast.

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win.

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm.

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed.

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync.

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted.

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg.

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car.

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt.

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too.

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him.

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat.

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel.

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen.

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we make one stop first?”

“Of course.”

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview.

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.”

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course.

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours.

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh.

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?”

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway.

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair.

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat.

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #vickie stranger things #vickie

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chrispevanss · 2 years

Text

Lovely Little Bunny

A/N: The first thing I’ve written in over a year and we’re going straight in, kiddos. Inspired by many a slutty conversation with my lovely bffs and moots @nsfwsebbie and @tellmealovestory i love you both bunches!

Pairing: Silver Fox!Lawyer!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only, Oral (m & f rec), P in V, unprotected sex, Daddy Kink, Sexting, age gap, pet name (Bunny). I think that’s everything.

Moodboard by me: I don’t own any of the pictures.

Please do not copy, translate, rewrite, or repost my work on any other platforms!

It started out innocent enough. Chris had been your father’s lawyer for years, helping the wealthy influential Mob Boss get out of trouble with the law without so much as a scratch to his reputation. The two of you had always exchanged flirty glances, you wore skirts that were just a little too short, and he would leave the top buttons of his shirt open, giving you a peek of the tattoos and light smattering of chest hair that crossed his skin.

Until one sunny summer afternoon he slipped you the number to his personal cell phone. It was wrong, you were just fresh out of college and he had been in practice longer than you’d been alive. But something about the glisten of that silver hair, always styled just so, the matching silver beard, and those sparkling blue eyes made it impossible to say no. Which is how you found yourself buried under your covers, hiding the light of your phone screen, as the two of you exchanged filthy texts into the wee hours of the morning.

C.E.: Wear that little blue dress tomorrow. The puffy one, love when it rides up and I see those sweet little panties. Makes me wanna bend you over the desk, hear you make all those pretty sounds for me. Bet you’d like that. Me using you, making sure everyone in the office knows who you belong to.

You smirk and rub your thighs together to stave off your growing arousal. He’s never gone beyond filthy texts and the occasional picture or video, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t something you craved everytime he walked into the house smelling of expensive cologne and bad decisions.

Bunny: Hmm I don’t know if I feel like wearing a dress tomorrow. Pop doesn’t like the boys lookin at me when we come to your office

You quickly press send before you can change your mind. Biting your lip as the typing bubble appears almost instantly.

C.E.: Maybe I won’t let you cum then. Thought about getting us a hotel room this weekend in the city but if you wanna be a bad girl…

You let out a soft whimper at his words. Before you can reply a video is appearing on the screen. A darkened room, his hard cock the only thing illuminated by the flash. You grab your headphones and quickly stuff them in your ears before pressing play. His heavy breathing is the first sound you hear, followed by the lewd sounds of his spit slick cock.

“Fuck bunny, look what you do to me. Wish your mouth was on this cock right now,” Chris growls. You hear him spit in his hand before going back to stroke his cock even harder. The video cuts off right as he lets out a loud groan, white ropes of his spend landing on his tummy and happy trail.

C.E.: Well Bunny, I better get to bed. You should too. I’ll see you at the office bright and early with your dad. xo

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning, thinking about the filth that Chris sent you. Eventually you end up watching the video again while shoving your hand between your thighs, you bring yourself to that ethereal high.

Brushing the skirt of your dress you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You take the file your father sent you with and walk into the lush law office.

“Well good morning!” Hannah chirps from the front desk and you give a small wave.

“Just here to see Mr. Evans. Dad sent some files with me.” You hold up the thick envelope and she nods.

“He’s waiting for you,” She gestures to the open door and you thank her.

“Close the door.” Chris commands smoothly. You smile, face heating up as you close the large door with a click. “Lock it,” He approaches you from behind, large hands resting on your upper arms, he’s inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a deep breath.

“I told your dad not to come. Told him I had a meeting this morning. Couldn’t stand not touching you any longer,” He confesses in a low grumble. You shiver, letting out a soft moan.

He smells of coffee and his cologne, your head is already spinning with filthy thoughts. You turn around in his grasp, cupping his silver stubbled cheek. He smiles down at you, brushing your hair back from your face he’s leaning down and taking your lips in a kiss. Your toes curl in your shoes as you kiss him back eagerly. The thick file in your hand drops to the floor, your arms encircling his neck.

“You want this here? Now?” He rasps, pulling back and looking down at you with lust blown eyes. You nod, pushing him back toward his desk. He’s leaning against the edge and you’re kissing him again, more insistently.

His hands slip down your body to cup your ass. He’s bunching your dress at your hips, long fingers playing with the elastic of your simple panties. Before you can start undressing him he’s picking you up, flipping you around and laying you on the desk.

“Such a pretty little thing, gonna make you cum so hard you cry.” Chris promises, licking his lips he’s pulling off your panties, tucking them in his back pocket. He’s parting your legs, spitting on your folds. Using his thick fingers he’s spreading your juices and his spit. You whine softly, hips bucking.

“Aww baby, you’re so desperate. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna take good care of you,” Chris coos, kissing your forehead he’s moving down to kneel between your legs.

“Such a pretty cunt, can’t believe I didn’t get you alone sooner,” He purrs, tongue flattening against your center he’s licking slowly.

“Oh god, Chris!” You gasp, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. He stills his motions.

“What the fuck did you call me?” He sneers, slapping your pussy lightly making you jump. Your eyes widen and you let out a little whimper.

“Daddy! Daddy! I’m so sorry!” You plead, hips bucking up, desperate for his touch.

“That’s what I thought,” He chuckles, slipping his ring and middle fingers inside you he’s curling them upwards. Stars are exploding behind your eyes and you let out a loud moan.

“Oh fuck! Daddy!”

Chris is pumping his fingers in and out of you, tongue flicking over your clit slowly.

“Never had such a sweet pussy,” Chris groans, lewdly sucking your clit. His fingers curl up and you let out a breathy whine.

You feel your orgasm building with every pass of his tongue and you know it won’t take long to push you over the edge. Just as you start to clench, breathing coming heavy and short, he stops.

You bolt upright on the desk with a scowl. Chris is lewdly sucking your juices from his fingers, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Taste so sweet. Already addicted to this cunt,” He growls, standing up, towering over you. Your walls flutter around nothing and you whimper softly.

“You want me to fuck you? Want me to ruin you for any other man? Huh? Wanna be mine?” His lips turn up in a smirk when you nod eagerly, maybe too eagerly. He’s unbuttoning his dress shirt, the dark ink of his tattoos being exposed with every button. You reach a hand up and stroke the intricate lines. He hisses when you drag a nail down the center of his chest.

“Mmm sure you can keep up old man?” You wink with a soft giggle. He’s on you in an instant, pressing you into the hard mahogany of the desk.

“Oh I think it’s you that needs to worry about keeping up,” He growls. He’s making quick work of his slacks, hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. You gasp softly, hand wrapping gently around his length. You’re stroking slowly, admiring the way his face contorts as you wipe your thumb across the tip of his cock.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” He’s panting, pushing your hand away. “Gotta be inside you when I cum, pretty girl,” He explains with one of those blinding smiles.

You scoot back a little on the desk. He’s climbing over the top of you, caging you in with his thick arms.

“Gonna ruin you now, sweetheart.” His Boston accent is thick and you shiver in delight.

“Wanted this for so long,” You confess, legs wrapping around his waist you’re pulling him closer.

“How long honey? Hmm? Be honest..” He goads, smirking at you. You’re squirming under his gaze but he’s holding you still. “Come on bunny. Be honest..”

“S-Since that first summer I came home from college,” You confess, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Well I better fuck you real good, cause you’ve been such a patient little girl, waiting for me,” He chuckles, pinching your cheek. You giggle softly, face heating up.

His gaze drops to your core, he’s lining up his cock and sinking in. He bottoms out with a loud grunt and your eyes flutter, you’re in heaven. The stretch is bordering on painful as he begins thrusting slowly. But it soon gives way to pleasure. He’s bending your knees, planting your feet on the desk so he can drive even deeper into you.

“Oh god! Oh fuck! It’s in my tummy!” You’re whimpering, eyes slammed shut.

Chris’ hand snakes between your writhing bodies, his thick fingers strumming your clit expertly. He’s leaning down, teeth dragging along the side of your neck as he picks up his thrusts. The lewd sounds of his balls clapping against your ass, and your pathetic whines create the perfect symphony to your tryst.

“So fucking tight,” Chris growls, fingers digging so deep into your skin you know you’ll be wearing his prints for days. Your walls are fluttering around his cock, your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, the material of his shirt slipping underneath your sweat soaked palms.

“Who owns this cunt huh? You gonna let those stupid college boys in here again?” He’s growling. You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“No! No daddy! It’s yours!” You’re sobbing. You feel that blissful end slowly approaching, your hands are clenching themselves into fists.

“Look at me, look at me when you cum. I wanna see how good I make you feel,” He’s pinching your cheeks together, forcing you to look in his eyes. The once baby blue orbs are dark and wild with lust.

Your open palm slams on the desk as your orgasm comes crashing into you. Your walls are clenching around his cock, nails digging into his clothed biceps.

“That’s it baby girl, oh fuck, gonna cum okay? Gonna fill you up,” Chris is panting next to your ear. You’re nodding, words dying on the tip of your tongue as the pleasure overwhelms you.

It only takes a handful of thrusts before he’s spilling inside you. Filling your tummy, he’s kissing you deeply, tongue sliding with yours.

“On your knees,” He growls in your ear, sliding out and tugging you onto the floor. You look up at him, confused.

“What? Why?” Your hands are resting on his thighs, lashes fluttering innocently. Chris is sliding the tip of his cock along your lips, smearing your combined release.

“Be a good girl and clean up your mess.”

Tagging: @dontshootmespence @tellmealovestory @nsfwsebbie @sagechanoafterdark

#chris evans #Silver Fox!Chris Evans #Lawyer!Chris Evans #Chris Evans Smut #chris evans fanfic #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans x You #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot

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callsigns-haze · 2 months

Text

Eternal embrace

prologue (just a peak)

Series set in a world where gods and mythical beings coexist, their lives intertwined by fate, duty, and love. At its heart lies the tale of Y/n, the goddess of sun, love, and war, and her journey through the trials and tribulations of divine existence.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Warning: Fluff, flirting, smut hints

Y/n, the goddess of sun, love, and light, stands tall upon her balcony, a regal figure against the backdrop of her celestial city. The golden rays of the sun caress her skin, illuminating her features with a divine glow. Her azure eyes, reminiscent of the clearest summer sky, twinkle with an otherworldly radiance, reflecting the boundless warmth and compassion that she embodies.

As she gazes out over the sprawling metropolis that has thrived under her watchful gaze for centuries, a serene smile graces her lips, imbuing the air with an aura of tranquility and harmony. Her cascading locks of blonde hair, kissed by the gentle breeze, seem to dance in rhythm with the symphony of the heavens, a testament to her timeless beauty and grace.

The golden gown adorning her form billows gracefully around her, ethereal fabric flowing like liquid sunlight, accentuating her divine presence. Every movement she makes is imbued with a sense of purpose and elegance, as though she is conducting an invisible orchestra of light and love.

In this moment, Y/n embodies the very essence of her domains, a beacon of hope and warmth in a world often shrouded in darkness. From her balcony perch, she watches over her city with a motherly affection, her golden crown gleaming atop her head, a symbol of her divine authority and benevolence.

For those who are fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her radiant form, it is a sight that fills their hearts with awe and reverence, a reminder of the boundless power and beauty that resides within the realm of the gods.

And so, Y/n stands vigil, her presence a guiding light in the endless tapestry of existence, her love and warmth embracing all who dwell within her domain.

As Y/n steps back from the balcony, her gaze lingering on the city below, she brings her hands up to her line of sight. They are the instruments of her divine will, the conduits through which her power flows, and they bear the marks of her authority.

Gilded with a substance that seems to shimmer and dance like liquid gold, her hands exude an otherworldly brilliance that captivates the eye. The molten essence, a manifestation of her celestial energy, clings to her skin in delicate patterns, swirling and weaving like intricate filigree.

With a gentle flex of her fingers, Y/n can command the very elements themselves, shaping light and love to her whim. It is through these hands that she channels the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of love, and the brilliance of light, infusing her realm with vitality and vitality.

Yet, there is also a weight to this power, a reminder of the responsibilities that come with her divine mantle. The golden substance that adorns her hands serves as a constant reminder of the sacrifices she has made and the burdens she carries for the sake of her people.

And so, as Y/n lowers her hands, the molten gold glistening in the sunlight, she does so with a sense of solemn determination. For in her grasp lies the fate of her city, and it is with unwavering resolve that she accepts the weight of her divine duty, knowing that with each touch, she shapes the destiny of all who dwell within her realm.

As Y/n continues to gaze out over her city, a sense of tranquility envelops her, filling the air with a serene stillness. Yet, amidst the peaceful quiet, she feels a presence approaching from behind, a familiar energy that sends a thrill of anticipation through her being.

Before she can turn, she senses Bradley's arrival, the god of thunder and skies, his powerful aura crackling with electric energy. His arm encircles her waist with a tenderness that belies his formidable nature, drawing her close in a silent embrace.

A shiver of delight courses through Y/n as Bradley's lips brush lightly against her ear, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. His touch is electric, igniting a spark of warmth within her as he whispers words of affection that resonate like distant thunder.

In this moment, with the city spread out before them and the sun casting its golden glow upon their forms, Y/n feels a sense of completeness in Bradley's embrace. He is her equal and her complement, the balance to her light and the strength to her warmth.

As they stand together in silence, their connection is palpable, a silent understanding that transcends words. And though the world may tremble at the clash of their powers, in each other's arms they find solace and serenity, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their divine duties.

With a contented sigh, Y/n leans into Bradley's embrace, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the god who stands by her side. In this moment, they are not just rulers of their domains, but two souls bound together by an unbreakable bond, united in their shared journey through the vast expanse of eternity.

As Bradley's arms envelop Y/n in a comforting embrace, he too notices the subtle shift in the horizon, the sun beginning its descent, making way for the encroaching veil of night. In the fading light, he catches a glimpse of a shadow flicker across Y/n's expression, a fleeting hint of melancholy that tugs at his heartstrings.

Instinctively, Bradley follows her gaze, his gaze settling on the horizon where the golden hues of day gradually yield to the deepening shades of twilight. He senses the presence of another deity, a figure whose absence has left an indelible mark on Y/n's heart.

There's a pang of empathy in Bradley's chest as he recognizes the longing in Y/n's eyes, the unspoken yearning for the god of night, Jake. The weight of their separation hangs heavy in the air, a testament to the enduring bond that transcends time and space.

For over two centuries, Y/n has carried the ache of Jake's absence, his departure a bitter reminder of the fleeting nature of their immortal existence. And though she has found solace and companionship in Bradley's arms, there remains a void in her soul that only Jake can fill.

As the last vestiges of daylight fade into darkness, Bradley tightens his embrace around Y/n, offering silent reassurance in the face of her longing. He understands the depth of her sorrow, the ache of a heart that yearns for reunion with its other half.

Together, they stand against the backdrop of the fading day, two celestial beings bound by love and duty, yet haunted by the specter of separation. And as the first stars begin to twinkle in the night sky, Bradley silently vows to stand by Y/n's side, a beacon of light in the darkness until the day when Jake returns to fill the void in her heart once more.

As Bradley's voice softly caresses her ear, Y/n's breath catches in her throat, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. She turns her gaze to meet his, finding solace in the depths of his understanding eyes, yet unable to deny the ache that lingers in her heart.

With a tender sigh, Y/n leans into Bradley's embrace, seeking comfort in the warmth of his presence. "How much do I miss him?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mixture of longing and sorrow. "As much as there are stars in the sky."

It's a response that needs no further explanation, for Bradley knows all too well the significance of the stars in Y/n's world. They are more than mere celestial bodies; they are the silent messengers of love and longing, the conduit through which Y/n and Jake communicate across the vast expanse of the heavens.

In each shimmering light that dots the night sky, Y/n finds a reflection of her own yearning, a silent echo of the love that binds her to Jake across time and space. And though their separation may stretch on for eternity, she takes solace in the knowledge that their love transcends even the furthest reaches of the cosmos.

With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Bradley offers his silent support, a silent vow to stand by her side through every trial and tribulation. For in the depths of Y/n's sorrow, he finds a strength and resilience that only serves to deepen his admiration and love for her.

And as they stand together beneath the star-strewn heavens, their hearts intertwined in a bond that defies the passage of time, Y/n knows that she is not alone. For as long as there are stars in the sky, she carries a piece of Jake with her, a beacon of hope that guides her through the darkest of nights.

As Bradley absorbs Y/n's heartfelt words, he feels a surge of empathy coursing through him, a profound understanding of the depth of her longing. He brushes a gentle thumb across her cheek, his touch a silent promise of unwavering support.

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, the stars above seem to shimmer with a knowing twinkle, their silent vigil a testament to the enduring bond between Y/n and Jake. Each flickering light holds a story untold, a message of love and longing whispered across the expanse of the cosmos.

For Bradley, it's a bittersweet reminder of the complexities of their divine existence, where love and duty often intertwine in ways both beautiful and heartbreaking. And though he cannot erase the ache of Y/n's longing, he vows to stand by her side, a steadfast companion in the face of whatever trials may come.

With a tender gaze, Bradley meets Y/n's eyes, his own filled with a mixture of compassion and admiration. "For as long as there are stars in the sky," he echoes softly, his voice a soothing melody against the backdrop of the night. "I'll be here for you, Y/n. Always."

And in that moment, beneath the canopy of a thousand twinkling stars, Y/n feels a glimmer of hope stir within her, a reassurance that even in the depths of her sorrow, she is not alone. With Bradley by her side, she finds the strength to face the challenges that lie ahead, knowing that their love will endure, eternal as the stars themselves.

As Bradley's lips meet Y/n's in a fervent kiss, a surge of raw emotion courses through them both, igniting a fiery passion that blazes brighter than any star in the night sky. In that electrifying moment of connection, time seems to stand still, the world falling away as they are consumed by the intensity of their desire.

Y/n responds eagerly to Bradley's kiss, her heart pounding in rhythm with the thunderous beat of his own. With a longing sigh, she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as if afraid to let go, her fingers tangling in the tousled strands of his hair.

Feeling the heat of her passion, Bradley instinctively draws her closer, his hands tracing the curves of her body with a tender reverence. And as their kiss deepens, their bodies meld together in a seamless embrace, each movement a symphony of desire and longing.

With a gasp of pleasure, Y/n surrenders herself completely to the intoxicating sensation, her senses ablaze with the heady rush of their shared passion. Without hesitation, she wraps her legs around Bradley's waist, drawing him impossibly closer until there is no space left between them, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace.

In that moment of perfect union, beneath the starlit sky, Y/n and Bradley are lost to the world, consumed by the intensity of their love. And as they melt into each other's arms, their hearts beating as one, they know that no matter what trials may come, they will face them together, bound by a love that burns brighter than any constellation in the heavens.

As Y/n's plea for more escapes her lips, it carries with it a raw vulnerability, a desperate yearning to lose herself in the intoxicating embrace of passion, if only for a fleeting moment. Her voice trembles with the weight of her longing, echoing through the night like a whispered prayer to the stars above.

Feeling the depth of her desire, Bradley's heart swells with tenderness and understanding. Without hesitation, he responds to her plea, his own desire burning fiercely in the depths of his soul. With a fierce determination, he cradles her in his arms, his touch igniting a firestorm of sensation that consumes them both.

In a frenzy of passion, they lose themselves to the heat of their shared desire, their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself. Each touch, each caress, is a testament to the depth of their longing, a silent vow to drown out the pain of their separation in a sea of ecstasy.

Wrapped in each other's embrace, they find solace and redemption, their love a beacon of light in the darkness of the night. And as they surrender themselves to the overwhelming tide of sensation, they are granted a fleeting reprieve from the weight of their sorrow, lost in a world where only their love exists.

For in that moment of perfect union, beneath the blanket of stars that bear witness to their passion, Y/n and Bradley find release from the burdens that weigh heavy on their hearts. And as they soar to dizzying heights of pleasure, they are reminded of the power of love to heal even the deepest wounds, to set their spirits free in a blaze of glorious abandon.

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

@roosterforme

#top gun smut #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader x hangman #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #rooster x hangman #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #hangman imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #hangster #hangster x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months

Text

Tis the Damn Season

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Based on a request from the lovely @dorothleah, Matt and his childhood best friend have a realization at Christmastime.

warnings: smut adjacent times (it’s just spicy towards the end, nothing graphic), descriptions of family holidays (they’re positive), Christmas specific, swearing

A/n: ahhhhh this one was so difficult to write—I really hope I did the prompt justice. (Also, this is set early on in S1 but let’s just pretend that all the bombing stuff didn’t happen bc that would definitely overshadow Matt’s holidays. Plus Mrs. Cardenas was an Angel so she is still alive and living her best life somewhere outside of this piece because I said so.)

w/c: ~4k

Breathing deeply, you couldn’t help but smile as the bitter cold wind swirled around you. Despite the extreme temperatures, winter in New York was beautiful. Layers of silver clouds drifted through the city, muting the constant stream of artificial light into something less aggressive, more ethereal. The thin layer of snow covering every exposed surface created a gorgeous blank slate of sorts, like an untouched page in a child’s coloring book. Monotone and full of possibilities. It was a sight you missed dearly, so much so that your heart flipped every year when you stepped out of the airport and back into the city you were raised in.

California was beautiful too, of course–not that you’d gotten to see much of it between your 8 years of post-secondary school and 2.5 years of residency so far. Even summer breaks had been spent studying or interning, rather than visiting the gorgeous beaches or tourist attractions across the state. When you found yourself swamped with work and longing for a break, you never dreamed of California, though. Only of New York.

Which is why the winter holidays were so important to you now. This was the only opportunity you had to visit family, to visit Matt. Most years, you spent about a week with your family for Christmas and spent a few wonderful evenings with your beloved childhood-best-friend-turned-charitable-defense-attorney, but this year was unique.

After encouraging your parents to take a much needed vacation, you’d mentioned to Matt that you were struggling to find a hotel to house you for the holidays. Charming and protective man that he was, he was appalled that you hadn’t asked to stay with him instead–arguing passionately with you until you agreed to stay at his loft for a couple days rather than spend the holidays alone.

Which led you on the snow-laced journey from the baggage claim to Matt’s front door, which you studied apprehensively, hand frozen in a fist that hadn’t yet knocked. The fluttering in your stomach was inevitable, your nerves always acted up when you saw Matt, but it was especially intense when your mind was occupied with the knowledge that you’d be surrounded by him and his things for a weekend.

Blowing out a breath, you let your eyes fall shut as you knocked rapidly on the door, the percussive sound echoing the pulsing in your ears. Footsteps padded down the hallway towards you, halting at the door as it slowly creaked open.

“Hi Matty,” Your voice was quiet, your cheeks blooming with warmth as he grinned at you. His beautiful smile hadn’t changed at all, still revealing the wit and mischief of the 14 year old you’d met all those years ago at St. George College Prep.

His signature red glasses twinkled with the reflection of the flickering hallway lights. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

As the familiar joke vaporized your anxiety, you dove into his open arms with a squeal. He was as warm and muscular as ever, his arms tightening around you as if waiting for you to dissolve. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, basking in the comfort of his embrace and letting it melt a year of stress away.

While you were enjoying the first hug you’d received in too long, Matt remained almost rigid beneath your touch–his brain counting every second and wondering where the line would need to be drawn. He could have stayed in your grasp all day, but that wasn’t what “friends” did, right? Inhaling deeply, he pulled away from you.

“C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Taking your hand, Matt guided you down the hallway and into his apartment, the sight of which made you gasp.

Strings of multicolored lights were strung around the perimeter, wrapped around every available surface in a festive tangle. A small, but otherwise impressive, fir tree stood against the massive paneled windows, smattered with glittering ornaments and candy canes.

The air suddenly felt forced out of your lungs, your breath staggering like a newborn foal as you surveyed every inch of the apartment. When your parents had booked their holiday cruise, you’d been slightly devastated–which wasn’t fair of you, since you’d encouraged them to get away for the month, but that didn’t stop your heart from aching at the thought of the traditions you’d miss. Christmas was your parents’ favorite holiday, and they went all out each year–decorating the house with gorgeous poinsettias and tinsel, buying the largest tree they could find at the local farm, stringing lights around the entire house. The festive beauty of your family home was one of your favorite sights, and you weren’t ready for the absence of decor.

But the absence never came, because you had Matt, the most amazing best friend a girl could ask for. The man who knew you inside out, and had anticipated your reaction to skipping a family Christmas, taking it upon himself to make up for their departure.

Biting your lips as tears threatened to fall, you let Matt enfold you in another hug, a drop of moisture rolling down your cheek when his lips pressed against your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“You did all this for me? Matt, I–” Withdrawing from the shelter of his arms, you strode around the apartment, running your fingers along the wires Matt had painstakingly decked his apartment with.

“Before you get too grateful, you should know that Foggy helped.” Matt laughed, rocking from foot to foot as he waited for you to take it all in.

Giggling at his glowing blush, you nodded, “Well, you both did an amazing job. Ugh, I could kiss you right now!”

The words slipped out of your mouth without a thought, but they froze Matt in place.

Your relationship with him was unlike any of the other friendships he held. There was a flicker of something deeper–a tense heat simmering underneath every touch, a magnetism that simultaneously drew you together and forced you apart.

After knowing you for 15 years, Matt could read you as if you were composed of braille. Every inhale, every pulse of your heart, every flutter of arousal from you crafted a story of love that he was terrified of losing. Neither of you could handle the stress of a long distance relationship. So, he held you close while keeping you at arm’s length.

Or, at least, he had. The urge to abandon all logic and act on his wildest desires was growing stronger by the minute. Treading over to where you stood, admiring the Christmas tree, Matt encircled your waist with his arms, tilting his nose against your temple.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your cheek.

“I missed you too, handsome. So much.” You leaned backwards into Matt’s firm chest, tangling your fingers with his.

Swaying slightly as he held you, Matt stayed silent, allowing you to soak up every ounce of joy from each tiny detail of the holiday ambiance he had painstakingly put together. Sure, it had been a chore, but it was absolutely worth it for the skip of your heart beat, the stutter of your breath as you held back happy tears. He’d do anything to give you the Christmas you deserved, and that included enlisting Foggy as his eyes for a week of decorating.

Because he was human, and his patience could only be strained so much, he eventually pressed a kiss to your head and spun you to face him. “Ok, I think it’s about time for me to pull my responsible host card and remind you that you need to eat.”

Laughing at his smirk, you nodded eagerly. “You’re right, I’m starving.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Matt gasped in feigned surprise, sparking another round of giggles from you.

“Shut up, asshole. I was admiring your hard work! Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” You shoved at Matt’s chest fondly.

“You’re right, I apologize,” Matt chuckled with you, rocking backwards after your playful push. “Have a taste for anything in particular?”

“Anywhere you want to take me, Matty.” You grinned.

_____________________________________________________________________

Nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk as you laughed brightly, you were launched into another set of giggles as Matt caught you by the elbow. Comfortably full after dining at Matt’s new favorite Thai place, the two of you ambled around the city catching up on the last year.

“Christ, you’re going to break something.” Matt sighed, but he was beaming at you. “That would honestly serve you right, though, after laughing at my pain.”

“I’m sorry Matty, but the idea of you wearing one of those bikini body shirts is amazing. Foggy is a pranking genius!” You crooned, jealous that you hadn’t been there to witness the practical joke.

“This from the woman who tricked me ruthlessly every April Fool’s Day.” Matt shook his head, biting back a grin as his mind flooded with memories from your shared childhood.

“Oh please, toothpaste oreos and salted coffee is child’s play, Murdock.” You jested, letting your joined arms grow taut as you leaned towards an enticing display in the window of a store you were passing.

“Hmm, well I’ll continue waiting for an apology then.” Matt turned his nose into the air teasingly.

“Should I buy you another Christmas gift to make up for the torture I put you through?” Without waiting for a response, you entered the doorway of the quiet little shop you’d been admiring, drawing Matt up the steps after you.

Carefully studying the rows of vibrantly colored trinkets, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace as you wandered the store. You let your mind wander as you ran your fingers along the rack of knit sweaters you were ogling. Somewhere in the rush to look through the myriad of options, you’d dropped Matt’s hand. Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your heart jumped when you didn’t see Matt behind you.

Before you had a chance to panic, a calloused hand tangled with yours, tucking you back into your friend’s warm side.

“God, Matty, I thought I lost you!”

“Don’t fret, sweetheart, I’ll always find you.” Matt murmured, his voice steady with truth as he kissed your temple.

Leaning into his touch, your heart twirled at the sentiment, emotions welling up in your throat. Squeezing Matt’s hand, you coughed around the lump in your esophagus, eyes once again roaming the row of sweaters. “Did you want to get out of here? You said we were meeting your friends tonight, right?”

“Yes,” Matt answered, a bit hastily given that he was still trying to decipher your reaction to his words. “Uh, yah, we aren’t too far from Josie’s.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t tell me we’re meeting at Josie’s! Fuck, I’m glad the place hasn’t been condemned after all these years.”

“Foggy and I have done our due diligence. The health department must have our pictures taped over dart boards by now.”

“My two favorite menaces to society,” You laughed. “I’m embarrassed to admit that you may have to lead me there. My navigation of the city is a bit rusty this year.”

“You’ve been away too long.” Matt tutted in disapproval. “Far too long.”

You grew silent beside him, your fingers twitching in his hold. “I know, Matty.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean—“ He started but you interrupted.

“Oh, I know you didn’t. And I miss you too.” Matt withheld from turning to you in surprise before you corrected your statement. “I mean, I miss you and my family and the city, you know? I love California, it’s just not the same.”

Cursing yourself for fumbling over your words instead of just admitting to Matt how much you wanted to stay here with him, you tugged at your lower lip with your teeth to keep from rambling any further. Twin blooms of heat pricked across your cheeks, your eyes falling shut with regret and longing.

Matt bumped your hip with his. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me. We still have more catching up to do.”

The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile. “Oh yah?”

“Of course! I haven’t even told you about the kitchen fire that Foggy set at Landman and Zach in the spring.”

Snorting in disbelief, you shook your head. “How on earth did you two not get fired?”

“He blamed it on a partner.” Matt grinned, making you chuckle.

The walk to Josie’s was short and filled with pleasant conversation, despite the brief hiccup. When you finally reached the familiar dive bar, you inhaled deeply, smiling at the sour odor of stale beer and tobacco.

Inside, the sticky floors and dim lighting immediately transported you back to the first time Matt brought you here, begging you to come with him to the “Jewel of Hell’s Kitchen”. Sure, it was more cubic zirconia than a diamond in the rough, but you understood why Matt loved it. The atmosphere was unmistakably familiar. No bells and whistles, just cheap beer and good company.

“This way,” Matt lead you further into the establishment, waving at Foggy and a gorgeous blonde woman who were seated near the windows.

Foggy leapt up to tackle you in a hug as soon as you were within hugging distance, crushing your lungs before you could laugh. “God, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Way to rub it in, bud.” Matt scoffed, smirking when his business partner gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“You’ve seriously got to teach me how to keep him in line.” Foggy sighed, scowling at the dark-haired man.

“You think I know how to do that?” You chuckled incredulously. “I’m not sure that’s possible without divine intervention.”

“C’mon, you’re practically the Matt-tamer.” Foggy cajoled, spinning around to face the table. “Karen, Matt-tamer. Matt-tamer, meet our lovely receptionist, Karen Page.”

Laughing as Foggy gestures towards the seated woman, you gave her your real name.

Karen smiled brightly, reaching her hand out for you to shake.

“You know, I could’ve introduced her myself. She is my friend, after all.” Matt pouted and you grinned, placing a hand on his arm.

“We all know you would have done a great job introducing me, Matty.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to Foggy.

“Um, are we not going to comment on the fact that I’m apparently not allowed to be friends with you?” Foggy asked, taking his seat beside Karen again.

“I didn’t say that!” Matt argued, sliding into the other side of the booth.

As Matt and Foggy bickered, you and Karen exchanged a knowing smile before you headed to the bar.

Waving as you spotted Josie’s stony face, you couldn’t help but smile when she rounded the bar to give you a one-armed hug. “Hey, kid. We’ve missed ya around here.”

“So I’ve heard,” You chuckled. “Can I get a couple of beers?”

“Your boyfriend letting you pay for the drinks?” Josie shook her head in distaste.

Almost dropping the two beers she’d passed you, your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, uh…”

“C’mon, don’t tell me he hasn’t made a move yet. Poor kid acts like ya hung the moon.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you shrugged. “We’re just friends, Josie.”

“Yah, yah. Heard that one before.” Josie sighed, shooing you back to the table.

Trying to refocus after her comment, you plastered a smile back on your face and took your seat next to Matt, handing him his beer.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He leaned against you and your skin burned. You could practically hear Josie raising her eyebrows from across the bar.

“You ok?” Matt asked, tilting his head towards you. “Did Josie snap at you or something?”

“You have to cut her some slack, she’s working hard to keep this place afloat.” Foggy frowned in sympathy.

“Oh no, nothing like that, she just caught me off guard is all.” You reassured, willing your body to relax into Matt’s hold.

“How so?” Karen asked with genuine curiosity.

“Oh, er, she asked me if…” Looking at Matt hesitantly, you let the words tumble out before you could fib. “She was wondering if Matt and I were dating.”

“What did you say?” Matt murmured.

“I told her the truth. Though, I wonder if I should’ve said we were, that was always easier.” You sighed, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“Always?” Karen asked, eyebrows shooting skyward.

“When we were kids, people always assumed we were dating. Eventually, it was easier to say yes than explain anything.” Matt explained with a shrug.

Foggy smiled, “Ah, so this has nothing to do with the fact that you both act like you’re dating for a weekend every year?”

You and Matt immediately grew defensive, spitting out two remarks at the same time.

“We do not—“

“Are you kidding me—“

But the realization of how close you were sitting to Matt made you pause. The man in question seemed to have the same epiphany because you both jumped apart with a huff.

Foggy and Karen exchanged a glance before nodding. Clapping his hands together, Foggy changed the subject.

“So…how’s California treating our favorite medical student?”

————————————-

Sitting on the worn leather couch in Matt’s living room, you blinked sleepily, the bright LED string lights coming back into focus as you reopened your eyes. You’d hoped that the beautifully decorated tree would draw you out of your thought spiral, but it was only fueling your rapid fire thoughts. Fidgeting with the fabric of the cushion you were sitting on, you couldn’t help but think of Foggy and Josie’s parallel accusations.

You and Matt were close, that was true, but you didn’t “act like you were dating”…did you? Sure, you were pretty much constantly touching each other, and you had nicknames for each other, but that was all platonic.

Or was that just what you’d told yourself? To let yourself sign off on the emotional turmoil you experienced every year when you had to leave the man that you loved.

Fuck. You loved Matt.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s voice startled you, your body jumping a few inches off the couch. Handing you the mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared for you, Matt took a seat next to you, his brow folding in concern.

“Oh, uh, nothing, Matty.” You lied unconvincingly.

With a snort, Matt shuffled closer, placing a hand on your knee. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”

“Did it…bother you? What Foggy said, about us?” You asked timidly, biting your lip when his hand stilled on your leg.

“Did it bother you?” He parrots, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Laughing despite the thick tension clouding around you, you shoved your shoulder against his. “I asked you first, Murdock.”

“Fair enough.” Matt chuckled nervously, exhaling quickly before answering, “No. It didn’t bother me.”

“Permission to ask you a follow up question?” It was risky to ask for further clarification before answering yourself, but you needed to know.

“That seems like cheating, but I’ll allow it.” Matt jested, his worry poorly concealed behind his teasing tone.

“Why didn’t it bother you?”

For an intense moment, your soft question was met with icy silence. Then, he responded with a warmth you’d never heard from him. “Because I’ve known exactly what I’ve wanted with you since we met all those years ago. And, consciously or not, I decided to enjoy my time with you in that way.”

Mouth falling agape, you pondered the answer for a moment. Had you been seeking that with him too? Is that why you were more than ok with the state of your relationship every year?

Interpreting your failure to speak as unease, Matt apologized. “I’m sorry. If I’d known that you were uncomfortable about it, I wouldn’t have–”

“I never said I wasn’t ok with it, Matty.” Your voice was deep with want, your eyes focused on every twitch of his facial muscles as he processed your response. “I’ve wanted more with you for years, I just thought I was better at hiding it than I apparently was.”

Matt chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

Matt’s breath heated your face, his lips felt too far away despite them hovering over your nose. Leaning into him, you crossed the invisible boundary you’d been dancing around for over a decade. “That depends on what we do next.”

Matt’s sharp inhale sparked a shiver down your spine. Settling one hand on your waist, the other cupped your chin gently. “Do I have permission to kiss you?”

“You fucking better, Murdock.” You murmured, hands wrapping around his nape as he closed the distance between your mouths.

As his plush lips met yours, the air was forced from your lungs. The evening ambiance of the city was drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. A jolt of adrenaline, that was heavily threaded with pure need shocked your system, drawing a soft loan from your vocal chords as his tongue prodded your bottom lip.

“Matty, please,” You whimpered as he withdrew his mouth from yours.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words for me.” Matt’s smug tone prompted another moan from you.

“Want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, love.” Hiking you into his arms, Matt wove his lips between yours again as he carried you to the bedroom.

————————————

Scrunching your nose against the chill that overtook you as your foot slipped out from underneath the blankets, you retracted your leg, settling back into the cocoon of sheets and muscular arms with a sigh. Unfortunately, the abrupt temperature change had shocked your consciousness out of slumber, and now you had to face the consequences of whatever had happened last night.

Your bare back was pressed against Matt’s warm chest, each inhale of his lungs jostling you with a comforting rhythmic motion. His hands were joined atop your stomach, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. Whining softly, you pressed backwards into his hold, his arms tightening instinctively as you did so.

“Morning.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.” The feeling of his lips dancing across the thin skin on your head was pleasant, until your brain reminded you just how fleeting this moment would be.

“Morning.” You responded, your tone revealing your nerves.

“Hey, I can hear you working yourself up. Talk to me. Are you ok?” Matt’s brow furrowed, his blank eyes darting around you as he sat up to study you closely.

“I’m ok, Matty. Just…thinking about us, is all.” You shrugged, eyes falling closed as he placed kisses down your neck.

Hesitating before planting a kiss on your collar bone, his voice quieted. “Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not.” Using two fingers to turn his face to you, you drew him in for a deep kiss. “God, you make me so happy, Matt. But I still have a few months left in my residency.”

“I know, sweetheart.” The clear disappointment in Matt’s voice almost shattered your composure.

“I wish things were different.” You sighed, resting your foreheads together.

“Don’t say that. You are getting a fantastic education so you can become the best pediatrician the world has ever seen. We can enjoy our time together now, that’s enough for me.” Matt’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his optimism was contagious.

“And in April?” Matt’s hand came to cup your cheek.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you, as long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you, Matt Murdock.” You promised, threading your fingers into his hair as he kissed you with a smile.

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