#a city of bells: chapter 3

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter III — Part I

The morning after Jocelyn’s arrival dawned blue and lovely.

Grandfather and Grandmother were the only ones who talked during the early stages of breakfast. Jocelyn, who came down a little late, was silent from fatigue and the necessity of catching up, and the tongues of Hugh Anthony and Henrietta were fully employed in dealing with porridge, bacon and egg, milk and water, toast and marmalade.

What, asked Grandfather of Grandmother as the meal drew to an end, was to be done with the dear children this afternoon? The choirboys were on holiday, it was Sarah’s afternoon out and Grandfather had a Chapter meeting … In the suggestive pause that followed Jocelyn said nothing  … Though in search of a profession he did not feel much drawn to that of nursery governess.

Henrietta bolted a mouthful and, following a rule of life implanted in her by Matron, wiped her mouth before she spoke. “I should like,” she said, “to go with Uncle Jocelyn to the house with the green door.”

“Why?” asked Hugh Anthony with unwiped mouth.

“Because I dreamed I did. I dreamed that I couldn’t get the door open, but Uncle Jocelyn opened it with a big golden key.”

“What did you do inside the house?” asked Hugh Anthony.

“I didn’t do anything,” said Henrietta, “because I woke up before I got inside. But I dreamed all sorts of other things first. There was a tall, thin man who piped, and who looked like Mr. Ferranti, and dancing children in coloured cloaks and houses with red roofs.”

“What do these children have for supper, dear?” said Grandfather to Grandmother.

“Milk and biscuits, dear,” said Grandmother rather sharply, for she disliked interference with her domestic arrangements.

“Before we go to the house we’ll show Uncle Jocelyn the sweet-shop,” said Hugh Anthony.

Jocelyn, yielding to fate, squared his shoulders and accepted the responsibilities of resident nursery governess. At half-past two that afternoon, he declared bravely, he would be ready.

Their breakfast finished, Henrietta and Hugh Anthony asked to get down and raced upstairs to get ready for morning school with Miss Lavender. They put on their brown strap shoes, attached the immense sailor hats that were then fashionable for the young to the backs of their heads with the help of elastic under the chin, and slung their satchels over their shoulders. Their grandparents, watching through the dining-room window, saw them go jauntily down the garden path and smiled affectionately. Hugh Anthony wore a dark blue sailor suit and Henrietta a rose-pink smock and they looked very nice if perhaps not as studious as could be wished.

The garden door slammed behind them and they were out in the Close. A blossoming tree that leaned over the garden wall dropped petals on their heads, the sun shone and they were happy. They walked along the pavement hand in hand, being careful to put their feet down in the centre of each paving-stone and not on the cracks, and at every sixth step they gave a little jump. This not walking on the cracks of the paving-stones was part of the ritual of the walk to school and was always observed with great solemnity.

Then they passed under the archway that separated the Close from the Cathedral Green and planted themselves in front of the clock on the north wall of the Cathedral to watch it strike nine. This also was part of the ritual.

It was a wonderful clock. A great bell hung between the life-size figures of two gentlemen sitting down. They had bushy hair and square caps on their heads, and held sticks in their hands, and for most of the day they sat perfectly still gazing at each other with every appearance of acute boredom. But at each hour they suddenly came to agitated life and made savage onslaughts on the bell. They struck it with their sticks and kicked it with their feet and made a great deal of noise indeed. Henrietta and Hugh Anthony adored these two gentlemen and it was one of the griefs of their life that owing to other engagements they could not be present every time they came to life. When they were grown up, they had decided, they would always be present, for to watch that clock was a life’s work in itself.

But nine o’clock was good and lasted a long time. Nine kicks and nine blows and a glorious great boom at each. They stood perfectly still, their mouths ajar and their heads thrown back, listening and watching as though they had never seen the thing before.

When it was over they sighed, walked on a little way and descended the steps to the Cathedral Green, where they stopped again to look up at the west front. It did not look to-day as though it were built of stone. The blue air and golden sunlight of the misty spring day seemed to have soaked into it and dissolved its hardness of colour and outline, so that it seemed an apparition that might at any moment vanish. The rows of sculptured figures were not statues to-day, they were ghosts, an army of spirits stepping silently through the veil of mist hanging between earth and heaven.

“I do wish He’d laugh,” said Henrietta, looking up at the Christ Child. “If I could reach I’d pinch His toes and then I’m sure He’d laugh.”

“Don’t be so silly,” said Hugh Anthony. “He’s only stone. Come on. Run.”

Having taken as long as they possibly could to get from home to the west front they then took to their heels and raced each other across the Green to Miss Lavender’s house, arriving in a most impressive state of perspiring eagerness for learning that Miss Lavender found very touching.

A half-circle of old houses stood round the Green, back to back with the houses in the Market Place, and Miss Lavender had lodgings in one of them. She was very poor, so poor that she could never tell anyone just how poor she was, and it had been Grandfather’s idea that she should eke out her tiny income by teaching Henrietta and Hugh Anthony. She had never done any teaching before, except Sunday-school teaching, and she had no idea how much she ought to be paid for it, so Grandfather was able to pay her too much without her knowing.

Her parlour was on the first floor, a little room looking straight out into the branches of the elm-trees that pressed close up to the window. There were two wooden desks for her pupils, a table with a globe on it, behind which Miss Lavender sat, a bookcase full of books, one shabby arm-chair, photos of Miss Lavender’s relations on the mantelpiece and a picture of “The Soul’s Awakening” over the tiny sideboard. That was all there was, except the canary and the cat.

Miss Lavender herself was tall and thin, with grey hair and a kind, meek face. She always wore grey alpaca, and steel-rimmed glasses, and her beautiful voice was never raised either in reproof or anger.

Her method of education was very much ahead of her time, for she employed the modern method of self-government and allowed her pupils to study whatever subject they felt most drawn to at the moment. But in employing this method she was not actuated by a study of child psychology but by a desire for peace and quiet. As she suffered from headaches, and it was quite impossible to induce Hugh Anthony to do what he did not want to do without a frightful row, she was obliged to let him do what he did want to do, and the same in a lesser degree with Henrietta.

The result was not too unsatisfactory, for they were neither of them lazy and, let loose in the field of learning, Hugh Anthony with his inquiring mind and Henrietta with her contemplative one, they made each of them for the food that suited them best and munched away like a couple of young heifers, one devouring buttercups and the other daisies.

“I shall do geography,” announced Hugh Anthony that morning, when they had hung their sailor hats on the pegs in the hall and clattered up the stairs to Miss Lavender’s room. He loved geography, for the questions that could be asked about it were endless. Why were some people black in the face, for instance, and others yellow and others white, and why was there snow at the North Pole, and was it hotter in India than it was in England, and if so why? Miss Lavender, when asked, never had the slightest idea, but she had a very good geography book provided by Grandfather and Hugh Anthony was able to find these things out for himself to his entire satisfaction.

“I shall do literature,” said Henrietta. She did not like geography, for she had had enough of the capes of England at the orphanage to last her a lifetime, and her explorations were all made in that realm of knowledge rather vaguely described by Miss Lavender as “English literature.” This included reading, writing, dictation, learning by heart “Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,” and looking out of the window.

Henrietta loved words, both the shape and the sound of them. She had not yet discovered her own powers as a picture-maker—for Miss Lavender did not attempt to teach painting—but she had discovered through words the symbolism of sound and shape and their relationship, just as in her dreams she had learnt to link colour and movement with music. “Silver” was a word that she especially loved. She thought it was the loveliest of words because it was so cool. If it gave her pleasure to hear Mr. Gotobed say “damn,” as though the word were a fine, strong fist crashed down on a hard table, it gave her even more pleasure to hear Miss Lavender say “silver,” for she immediately thought of fountains playing and a long, cool drink on a hot day. It was a satisfactory word to write too, with its capital S flowing like a river, its I tall as a silver spear and the v like an arrow-head upside down. Yellow was another good word because of that glorious capital Y that was like a man standing on a mountain-top at dawn praying to God, with his arms stretched out, his figure black against a sky the colour of buttercups … All her life yellow was her favourite colour and the one that symbolized the divine to her.

From the delight of forming letters into words Henrietta went on to the intoxication of forming words into sentences and here her instinct was unerring. She seemed to know just what words to choose and how to arrange them so that they sounded like a bar of music and not like the tea-things falling downstairs. Miss Lavender, unaware how early a feeling for poetry awakes in children, was astonished at Henrietta’s sensitive ear. She had, a few days ago, read them Shelley’s “To a Skylark.” She had thought it far above their heads, but the larks were just in the middle of their spring ecstasy and Henrietta had demanded “something about larks,” and Miss Lavender had not at the moment been able to lay her hand upon any literary lark except Shelley’s. She was astonished, as she read, at the hush that fell upon her schoolroom. Henrietta never moved and even Hugh Anthony, who was carving a portrait of the Dean on his desk with a penknife, neglected his activities to listen, leaving the Dean whiskered on one side and not on the other.

“That’s nice,” said Henrietta when the poem was finished. “That’s lots nicer than ‘Be good, sweet maid,’ or ‘How doth the little.’”

“But you didn’t understand it, dear, did you?” asked Miss Lavender.

Hugh Anthony, who had gone back to the Dean’s whiskers, did not reply, but Henrietta said, “It sounded good. It jumped up and up like the lark and it sang all the time.”

“Well!” said Miss Lavender. “Dear me!”

And now, this spring morning, Hugh Anthony being provided with a chapter on coal and why it behaved in such a peculiar way when set alight to, Henrietta was presented by Miss Lavender with Verses for the Little Ones.

She flung it into the corner of the room.

“Henrietta!” exclaimed Miss Lavender in horror.

“I don’t like it,” said Henrietta. “I’m not little and I want that lark man.”

“Not if you behave like that,” said Miss Lavender, and began to shake nervously, for occasionally, mercifully very occasionally, Henrietta could be extremely naughty.

Henrietta saw Miss Lavender shaking and she was sorry, for she was not one of those demon children who enjoy tormenting … She liked power as much as anyone else, but Grandfather had already taught her that in this world you may lay violent hands upon no personality but your own; other people’s, if you dare to touch them at all, must be handled with a touch as light as a butterfly’s … So she picked up Verses for the Little Ones and apologized for her disgraceful conduct. “Though I’m not going to read it,” she ended firmly.

Miss Lavender gave in and produced Shelley.

There was silence in the schoolroom, Hugh Anthony engrossed in coal, Henrietta in turning the pages of Shelley and Miss Lavender in the knitting that she was able to take up when the dear children were good.

The light in the room was a green light, for outside the windows the elm-trees were covered with new leaves and the sunlight had to filter through a green mist before it reached them … Leaves … The thought of them was in the minds of both children, for Hugh Anthony was discovering to his astonishment that buried forests turn into coal and Henrietta was thinking that the pages of Shelley as she turned them rustled like autumn leaves.

“Leaves.” The words suddenly danced up at her from the page and caught her eye.

“O wild west wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence stricken multitudes!”

Suddenly she remembered that autumn day when she had run across the Green to look for Ferranti and the leaves were falling and drifting and bowling over the grass in golden battalions.

“Thou on whose stream, ’mid the steep sky’s commotion, Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean.”

She did not quite understand that, but she had a vision of the sky as it had been that day, with torn wisps of cloud sailing along behind the Cathedral towers, leaf-shaped clouds that blew before the wind just as the leaves did. She read on eagerly, uncomprehending but pouncing eagerly on beautiful individual sentences. “And saw in sleep old palaces and towers” … “And flowers so sweet the sense faints picturing them.” … Yes, she too could dream of beautiful things and picture them to herself when she woke up … And here were the leaves again.

“Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth, Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind.”

“Miss Lavender,” said Hugh Anthony suddenly. “Is it really true that the flame that comes out of coal is the sunshine that got shut up in the leaves of the forests that were buried?”

“If it says so in that book,” said Miss Lavender guardedly.

“It does say so.”

“Then it’s true,” said Miss Lavender, “because your dear Grandfather bought that book and he would never buy a book that made incorrect statements.”

Hugh Anthony thought hard, and his thinking powers were considerable. “Then when the flames come out of the coal the sunlight that was buried comes alive again.”

“Yes,” said Miss Lavender, and remembering that Easter was only just past hastened to improve the occasion. “A new birth,” she said slowly and reverently, her knitting in mid-air with the heel half turned, “a resurrection.”

Henrietta puzzled over the last verse of the poem with knitted brows, saying it over and over so that she had it by heart. “Do all things that have gone away come back again?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Miss Lavender.

“Why?” asked Hugh Anthony.

“Because it’s a law of life.”

“Why?”

“Because God ordained that it should be.”

“Why?”

“It is not for us to question the will of God.”

“Why not?”

“Hugh Anthony, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

Henrietta arose and fell upon him. They rolled over and over together on the floor. They upset an inkpot and frightened the cat and gave the canary, who was elderly, a heart attack. By the time Miss Lavender had quieted the cat and the canary and got the ink out of the carpet with milk and lemon it was, to her great relief, time for the dear children to go home.

When they had gone she wondered for the hundredth time if teaching the young was really her vocation and what, if anything, the dear children had learnt that morning.

They had, as it happened, learnt a good deal. The fact of resurrection had been brought home to them, some facts about coal were now a part of their mental equipment and Henrietta had memorized some words of a great poem … It was the latter attainment that later turned out of great importance to them all.

#torminstertravels #a city of bells #readalong #booklr #literature #a city of bells: chapter 3

[tiyoin]

pt .3 | 📍pt. 4 | pt. 5

this chapter is disorganized cause i refuse to proofread

there was a festering rot in your heart….

you couldn’t explain it.

you were jealous, you were angry, you were frustrated. most importantly; you were tired.

the days mushed together the more you rotted in bed. your stomach seemed to shrink the less you ate, your eyes began to sag the less you slept.

grim has been a doll, really. always trying to drag you on adventures, always tugging you to go to the monstro with him, or just staying back with you to lay in bed.

the company was much appreciated.

yuu tried to help, they really did… but with being so popular there was only so much screen time the protagonist could give you.

there was some resentment.

and there were the reasoning you told yourself;

why didn’t they invite you out with them?

your social life isn’t their responsibility. they have a life outside of you.

how come they didn’t introduce you to their friends? the only ones you knew were adeuce

they’re allowed to have other friends too, sevens why are you so clingy??

why is it okay for them to do spontaneous plans, yet when you do it it’s a bad time?

they’re a busy bee, just like you’re supposed to be… so they have to work twice as hard when your mental health plummeted.

and yet they do it with a hearty smile a word of understanding. cheering you up momentarily with their kind yet blunt words. telling you to take all the time you mean and that they don’t mind any of the work. truly.

maybe it was guilt that stopping you from asking yuu to introduce you to their friends. i mean, they already do so much and yet here you are. a leech.

sucking off their social life, work life, and home life. maybe you weren’t made to have any friends? maybe you didn’t even deserve to be yuu’s friend.

the muffled sounds of the classroom slowly turned to whispers the more you walked along your brains pathways. the more you discovered more negative things about yourself.

why were you here? there could’ve been anyone else here and yet it was you. if there was someone else here they would be more social, everyone would be having a more fun time, and maybe they could be of use to yuu.

maybe they could’ve played more of a role in the overblots than you, after all you just planned it. the group deciding before hand to not let you in on any of the ‘dangerous missions’ that could get you seriously hurt.

yet that’s how they made friends with each other. if you could make friends that way, you would put the blot in people’s stones yourself.

you sighed, head shaking in silent disagreement.

you looked up at the board a few rows in front of you. it was history class, a class you rather enjoyed. albeit the times and dates weren’t my your favorites. but just hearing about all the events in the past, all the tragic wars, the culture, how people lived in the olden days with magic.

you could only daydream about being some kind of royalty and having lovers fight over your hand with a magical duel.

your imagination slowly started to slip into the chosen daydream.

“y/n!” trein’s face appears- alarm bells sounded through your head as you teared your eyes away from your textbook and resting them on the angry, old man.

“because you love the textbook so much, how about you tell us why kind na’jeri decided to stop the caravans from passing through oasis city for several hundred years after the war of ‘the watering hole’”

trein usual scowling face held a hint of amusement, eyebrow quirked up as the top of his lip started curling.

crap. fuck. you knew this. you knew this. after reading about the handsome king na’jeri you know exactly why he did that.

and yet… the question was wrong, the information was wrong. king na’jeri didn’t not just ban caravans from entering the city, he completely locked the city up. no one could get in or out for several hundred years all because of his paranoia.

yet you froze.

eyes staring back at him in horror as you felt your body heat up. you could physically feel the heat slowly travel along your neck and to your face. where you swore you were turning red with how much you were blushing.

you mouth gaped open a slightly closed, like a fish out of water as your eyes flickered between him and the board. between the board and your textbook.

“ you know this y/n.”

no the fuck you didn’t.

if you did then you wouldn’t be floundering like a fish to get an answer.

and it’s just your luck that the first day you came back to school you would get ambushed by trein. you have gym next and you were surely positive the ghost of vargas was haunting you through the classroom’s window.

YOU KNOW THIS

yet with each passing second more pens stopped and more eyes wandered to you. watching you.

you tightened your fist, suddenly feeling like a monkey in a zoo as all the humans picked and poked at you. laughed and sneered at you.

“u- uhh- uh, king na’jeri.. he ih, decided to close off the city to the car-caravans-“ you cleared your throat a phlegm and took a shallow, yet deep breathe.

deep enough for you to calm your nerves, shallow enough to not make your breathe look obvious.

“he decided to cut off all paths to the kingdom instead of just the kingdom itself. the king was ex-extremely paranoid that the devastation from the war, and another war would happen again if they let outsiders in.” you paused, quick to have your mind catch up.

trein just gave you a nod as the mischief left his face, he opened his mouth to keep going but you weren’t done.

“so-“

“go-

there was an awkward lash of sentence starters.

the boys sitting on either side of you tensed. it was never a good idea to cut off trein. ever. it was never a good idea to talk when he was teaching, let alone talking as that gave you a one way ticket to detention.

you apologized sheepishly, eyes breaking from his as you went to back to mindlessly scanning your textbook. trying to appear busy as you waited for you punishment.

“if you have something to add, then go ahead” looking up, trein gave you a nod as

“s-soo he didn’t just ban caravans from entering the city. in a book i read, they said that he prevented everyone from entering and leaving the city for several hundred years because the paranoia ate at his blood line. there were so many casualties that roughly around 40% of the population was wiped out so to prevent that, the king and the royal family decided to take radical measures..”

“beautifully put y/n.” he smiled, nodding in approval as a spark ignited through your chest, you fought back a giddy smile. you felt so energized. you content...

your smile faltered.

you can’t remember the last time you were so happy.

grabbing your pen, you went to your notepad and started taking notes. started doodling. started doing whatever to distract yourself from the feeling.

“y/n, stay after class for me?” you paused, the grip you had on your thick textbook loosened. curling your fingers against the perked spine, you managed to save it before it crashed down onto your seat.

“ye- yea..” looking back, you shared a look with yuu as adeuce around them started chatting.

waving off the trio, you said you were fine and that they didn’t have to wait. you’d hate for them to miss lunch.

they started walking off the podium, as ace, yuu, and grim all bantering about something you didn’t bother to tune in for.

you weren’t involved in the conversation after all.

“hey y/n” you looked back up, no, down as you saw deuce in front of you. he had an uneasy look on his face as his arms were tightly holding his books against his chest. a little blush adorning his cheeks as he looked up.

“you’re more than welcome to come with us to the cafeteria, you know that right?”

puzzled at where this was coming from, your eyes watched the backs of the redhead and the ravenette as they laughed merrily through the doorway.

you looked back at a now determined deuce, “it get that it’s hard to adjust to a nice environment, believe i know” his smile faltered.

the eyes were the window to the soul as you saw nothing but compassion, understanding in the murky depths of his blue eyes.

the heat came back as you looked to trein. he was sat down at his desk writing. yet this pen seemed to hover too long in the air to be considered ‘writing.’

“i- uh, yeah!” you blurted out, nodding as that was the only thing you could trust yourself doing.

quickly packing up your stuff, you sped down the isle and down the steps and down to deuce.

you should’ve stayed up there, was the first thought you had once you were in front of the fellow freshman.

fixing your hair, you looked back to trein, whose pen was writing a mile a minute, showing no previous signs of stopping.

“ye- yeah! uh, i’ll definitely remember that!” you took another deep breath, finding the courage to once again look him in the eye.

it made everything too… real for you. your body surged uncomfortably as you once again thanked him. “i appreciate it deuce, truly”

the smile on your face felt so natural, so… real that you couldn’t help but look up at the crimson boy.

you could almost chuckle at how the color of his hair contrasted with the red paint on his face. it looks like they missed a rose.

“uh- ye- yeah! no problem! i’m gonna go now” and with that, he ran off.

not before tripping over himself, a loud screech from his sneakers echoing the lecture hall. he looked back bashful, before he sprinted out.

“i’ve never seen a boy in this class get so flustered. and me calling on them unprepared doesn’t count” you brought your attention back to trein.

and yet a horrifying thought bubbled in your head.

you didn’t pass the bechdel test.

i got lazy. plus i have class el oh el

tag list: @xingyunny

#oh my god azul and jamil sandwich #HAHAHAH OMG I HAVE PLANS I HAVE PLANS #twisted anxiety 🌀 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎 #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader #silver x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader

[satorubi]

#1 : SLUT CERTIFIED ! — eren yaeger

꒱ ➛ CHAPTER SYNOPSIS : eren’s first favor.

˚◞♡ who ?? : eren yaeger x black fem! reader

˚◞♡ word count : 8.2K ( i am so sorry )

˚◞♡ chapter warnings : minors DO NOT interact, mentions of female anatomy, fem! reader using she/her pronouns, somewhat bimbo reader ??? mentions of asshole connie, mentions of player! connie ( i’m sorry ), use of profanity, oral penetration, cunninlingus, body worship, fingering, pet names such as [ mama, baby, angel ] slow-paced smut, a little bit of a cliffhanger.

˚◞♡ author’s note : NUMBER ONE — i am so sorry for posting this so late. i ended up re-writing the entire thing many times but i have a good feeling ab this ver. BUT ANYWAY !!!! first chapter !!! yayyy !! i’m very exited to share this with you alllll <3 i appreciate the amount of support you’ve given me before this was released and i love u for it 🫶🏽 anyways, excuse any mistakes or typos !! i hope you enjoy. reblogs n interactions are deeply loved <33

the typical friday night lights of the city shined brightly through eren’s studio apartment. nothing but the sound of livid drivers behind their steering wheels and the occasional dog barking at whomever may pass by. not to mention you — his best friend ; sitting next to him with a burning blunt plied between your fingers as your eyes intensely gaze at the soothing window view.

although, you didn’t exactly look so soothed.

there was a look of a apprehension pervading your features, almost as if you were deep in thought. eren sets his jaded irises on you and the small smile that once stretched across his lips fades.

“uh, you good?”

your eyes trail over when you take heed to his question, w taking a breath before looking at him with hopeful eyes. usually, you didn’t find yourself having such a challenging time when asking eren anything, but as of right now, the next few sentences you say may or may not tarnish your friendship.

“i’m fine. i um.. i just don’t know how to really ask you this,” you confess. eren then turns his rested head towards you, eyes looking at you with scrutiny as he tries to piece together what exactly that little mind of yours was thinking.

“talk to me, what’s wrong? i do somethin’ again?” you rashly shake your head from side to side, grabbing his hands in yours and squeezing as you nervously laugh —

“you know your friend connie, right?”

the audible groan that leaves eren’s lips is priceless, and so was the look on his face, “you mean the annoying bald motherfucker from high school that won’t leave me alone? hm, the name doesn’t really ring a bell.”

well if that wasn’t obvious enough, yes, they knew each other. they’d been friends for a while now. you can recall first meeting connie during your junior year of high school ; eren introducing you at a house party your devious asses had no business being at. he was cute, and even a little funny, but you’d never really paid attention to him until a few months ago.

him now being in his twenties meant you got to see him grow to cover his body with ink — his arms and legs. and you most definitely couldn’t forget the amount of muscle he’d gained just over a year after graduating high school. point being, he was just your type. and you were his. that’s why it didn’t take very long for you two to begin talking. but of course, after a few dates and many, many occasions of giving him severe blue balls, you figured it was finally time to step it up a notch.

“well you know we’ve been talking for a while now..and we’ve been planning to go out of the city for a little vaycay and i was thinking that maybe it was time he and I could take our relationship to the next — “

“for him to fuck you and break up with you like he did that one girl last year? nah. not lettin’ you do that.” he interrupts you before you could even begin to finish, shaking his head from side to side as he focuses his attention back to the moving city outside the window.

you could say he was being harsh, but at the end of the day, eren knew him better than you did — regardless of being familiar with one another since the early age of fourteen. connie was a heartbreaker. a true player at heart.

that boy couldn’t keep a woman for longer than a month before tossing her to the side as if she was some accessory — many of those women being too good to for him to begin with.

women like you.

the women who were too kind for their own good. the women who never failed to put a smile on a saddened face with just a few simple words. you were the type of woman he’d easily break — and that was just something eren couldn’t bare to swallow. but alas, who was he to judge? he just wanted to see you happy — that was his one and only concern, and if this whole ordeal would succeed that goal, he has no problem doing whatever he can to get you there.

“i wasn’t asking for your permission. i just needed your help, but i guess it’s useless to ask now.” the look of lost hope on your face pulls at eren’s heartstrings, him almost immediately exhaling and rolling at eyes at the sight of your pleading yet condescending gaze.

“jesus, what do you want? advice? intel? a wing man—“

“i want you to teach me how to fuck.”

it took everything in him not to laugh because the more he held your gaze, the more he realized you were genuinely being serious. eren’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. you stare, waiting for his response as he gives you an intrigued looked rather than a confused one, “i think you need to elaborate. that’s a crazy sentence to say.”

“y’know, like blowjo —“

“i know what sex is, yn.”

you and the word ‘fuck’ had never been been a thought in eren’s mind up until now, so to know he’d be the one seeing you bare for the first time was definitely…mind boggling. seriously, the closest eren has come to even seeing a glimpse of you would have to be when you went scuba diving in miami for your nineteenth birthday — and even then, you were still somewhat clothed.

“i know it’s weird and i completely get it if you aren’t comfortable with —“

“i mean..i don’t really mind teaching you. i’d rather you learn from me rather than a lame ass porno.”

that was a response you weren’t expecting. you’d made sure to prepare yourself for rejection when you came over, but eren had proved you wrong. he didn’t seem to be phased — a resting grin on his face whilst you fully comprehend his answer.

“wait — really?”

he nods, shrugging his broad shoulders, “yeah? it’s not like we like each other or somethin.’ just think of it as my favor to you.” eren motions his fingers for you to pass him the blunt, but you nearly drop it from your fingers as you toss your arms around his neck — embracing him tightly as you whisper a stream of ‘thank yous’ into his neck.

you feel eren’s palms trail up and down your spine, rubbing the small of your back. he laughs at your excitement, “what’s connie gonna’ think about all this, hm?” he questions — validly questions. of course he didn’t like the guy, but he still needed some source of clarity. his days of fucking someone else’s girl were long gone and he’d never step foot into that life ever again. it was too messy.

“he doesn’t know he’d be my first — well, second..besides you. plus, he said it himself : we’re not official! it’s not wrong to see other people,” you casually say this as if you hadn’t just admitted to connie openly voicing that he was playing you, but then again, if you didn’t see an issue, neither did eren.

“yeah, i bet he did say that.”

“oh don’t be like that. you’re such a hater — he is your friend after all,” you poke at his bicep teasingly, amused at the side eye he sends you. you knew eren and connie relationship wasn’t the absolute best — frenemies you’d like to call it. they had their good days, and their bad ones, but you knew, on the outside looking in, it was endless love for one another all around.

“he’s an acquaintance.”

your eyes roll and you huff, “whatever. when do you wanna do this? i leave for the trip in a few weeks. i wanna’ be as ready as possible before then.”

“well, i gotta’ meet up with jean and armin for poker tomorrow night, but after that i’m free if you —“

“great. we’ll start tomorrow. and poker? what are you, old men?”

“oh hush, you like to knit.”

you shove him and you both begin burst out in laughter. the rest of the night was spent doing what you and eren would normally do — watching movies, chatting amongst yourselves and every now and then, casually bickering like an old married couple over the silliest of things.

but these innocent gestures would soon hold a brand new meaning in such a short amount of time. neither of you realized the mistake you were about to make. the days of occasional i love you’s and holding hands out of comfort were long gone now.

saturday night at armin’s ; a night looked forward to by most —most meaning eren and eren only. there was no better feeling than getting together with his closest friends to trash talk, share a few glasses of rum, and catch up on whatever life had thrown at one another throughout the week.

but what he loved most watching the look of defeat on jean’s face when eren finally placed his last chips. it was a scene he’d pay for.

“you’re a fuckin’ cheater.”

eren laughs, stretching his arms across the table and pulling the pile of neatly stacked chips toward himself. he takes a moment to look over at armin who has his phone out recording jean’s rage all the while chuckling tauntingly under his breath.

“hating the player when you should be hating the game. that’s crazy.”

“fuck you,” jean mumbles. eren steers his attention away from the grown man’s mini tantrum when he hears an angry knock at armin’s door. heads turn in unison, “damn armin. forgot you had a girl comin’ over tonight or something?” the blonde rises from his seat, walking over to take a look at the peephole to reveal a standing connie in front of the door, “it’s just con, guys.” the door is pulled open, and at the sound of connie’s name eren could already feel himself tuning everyone out.

the sound of connie’s voice alone was enough to make eren want to gather his keys and satchel to make a run for it, but it was nowhere near the time to meet with you.

“its about time y’all answer the fuckin’ door. i’ve been knocking and waiting for like thirty minutes now,” this was a lie. poker always started at seven, and it was now thirty past nine.

“you’re late,” eren huffs. connie gives him the finger, scoffing as he makes his way over to the table, “where were you?” eren sounded like a stern parent scolding their child, but at the end of the day, there was something off about connie in this moment that was shifting his mood from solemn to easily irritable.

“damn, am i not allowed to oversleep every once in a while?” oversleep eren’s ass. the purple and blueish colored bruises beginning to taint connie’s neck said otherwise. he’d obviously been acting on that ‘seeing other people’ bullshit he fed you — and if eren was being honest, the lack of coverage showed just how little he respected you.

eren conjures a smug laugh, “oversleeping huh?” jean does the same, vividly noticing the markings as his eyes peer over to the exact spot as eren’s, “more like fucking. i see you and yn are becoming pretty close, huh ?” he asks.

“y-yeah, yeah. she’s great, man.”

“just great? you’ve been talking for like four or five months now,” armin chimes in, and thank the heavens above that he did. it was evident that the group as a collective were well aware of connie’s shitty behavior.

“i mean…it’s nothin’ too serious. she’s cute, for real. we’re just taking it slow.” nothing too serious? for christ’s sake, he was planning a getaway with you in a few weeks. it’s like all of this was just a little game of cat and mouse to him. you’d think connie being aware of how tightly knit you and eren were would give him some sort of change at heart, but nope — that was just connie for you.

eren could practically feel the blood pumping through his veins. he rolls his tongue around the inside of his cheek, tapping lightly onto the wooden table with a deep mug twisting his chiseled features.

“i think ima’ call it a night,” eren voices, rising from his reclined position slowly while avoiding eye contact, “i have some shit to do.” shit to do meaning heading towards your place earlier than he should be. he couldn’t stand to be around connie and his ignorance. it was depriving and overall time consuming.

“the fuck? i just got here, eren,” connie scoffs, but eren doesn’t stick around long enough to hear the bass in his voice rise to a T. the door slams behind him, eren now making his way out of the door and down the hall to head for his black mustang parked out front. the skin of his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed pink with a crack of discomfort bubbling inside of him.

the moment he unlocked his car doors and hopped in, he didn’t know if the adrenaline was getting to him or just the sheer fact that he liked the taste of making connie angry, but that whole interaction just made him all more enthused to see you.

no matter how much you liked connie or how much you cared about a potential relationship with him, he couldn’t beat the fact that eren would easily treat and fuck you way better than he ever could — hypothetically speaking, of course.

and that’s why, the only thought on his mind was to make tonight a moment you’ll never forget.

with a day consisted of excruciatingly long lectures and excessive amounts of homework given by your professors, you could finally find yourself prancing down your apartment hallway, eager to enter your home to prepare for what the night had in store.

you fumble with the keys on your baby-pink lanyard, specially made for you and given to you by eren for your birthday one year. the sound of your living room television could be faintly heard resonating through the wood as you started to unlock your door. you furrow your brows since you know for a fact that you made sure to turn it off before you departed earlier this morning.

your hand twists at the nob, the fingers of your opposite hand clutching tightly onto your pepper spray, but to your surprise — you quickly feel a sense of relief travel through your body as you see none other than eren. his legs spread, arms behind his head as he lounges on your white couch which a bowl of half eaten ice cream resting on the coffee table before him.

to say he startled you would be an understatement, but the sound of your keys jangling did just about the same to him : his head almost immediately turning toward the door to face you.

“what are you doing here, ren? and how the fuck did you even get—“

“you gave me a key, remember?” he asks, pointing to his neatly hung set of keys on the coat hook beside the front door. as soon as you turn to look in that way, his lifeless lips start to smile and he begins to giggle at your confusion, “damn, about to pepper spray me and everything, huh?” he quips.

you simply plop down next to him, sinking into the warmth of the sofa as his arm gently moves to rest behind your head, “you’re the one who can’t send a damn text. it would’ve been nice to have a heads up, ren,” he smiles at your tone ; sounding just like his mother, carla, when she used to yell at him for being a sneak.

ah, what a time.

“i thought it was poker night. i didn’t think i’d see you until ten,” your inquiry was enough to make eren riled up all over again, but for your sake, he chooses to leave out the part where he nearly wanted to slap your potential partner across his face.

“i kept winning, so i left. it got boring.”

eren’s blatant lie didn’t seem to phase you. in fact, you seemed to have easily glossed over his sorry excuse of a response, and instead choosing to gush over the possibility of him seeing connie.

“was con there? did he say anything about me?” you giddily ask, a smile complimenting your dilated pupils with just the mention of his name. eren only sheepishly grins, “yeah, he was there alright. called you cute too.”

eren barely cracks a smile at this, seeing how effortlessly your face lit up at the sound of the bare minimum. poor, sweet, innocent yn — too blinded to realize the boy you spoke so highly of only used a simple sentence when speaking of you. it was sad almost, seeing you be so naïve. but then again, telling you wouldn’t make a difference — it would only start an argument.

“he’s so sweet. i think he gets nervous in front of you guys…y’know, when he talks about me.”

“…right.” eren decides to navigate the conversation elsewhere, “so..did you wanna’ get some food or something before we start or..”

“don’t be so awkward, eren,” you laugh. you squeeze his bicep consolingly, “i’m gonna’ go freshen up a bit and then we can get going. it’s been a long day.” you tread off toward your room, shutting the door behind you and leaving eren alone on your living room couch.

for some odd reason, eren found himself to be more nervous than he was when he first entered. he didn’t know if it was the mystery of it all or the simple fact that he would be seeing you naked for the first time, but his heart was damn near beating out of his chest.

the scuffling sounds coming from your bedroom only induces his anxious heart, eyes directing their attention toward howl’s moving castle playing quietly on the tv.

“eren! can you come in here for a minute?” he hears your soft voice call out from behind the door. eren blinks a few times, confused on why you hadn’t just come out yet, but the moment he opens the door to your room — he knows.

there you were, standing in the connected bathroom in front of the mirror, adjusting and shifting your waist length faux locs from one side to the other. your body was decorated in a pink, two piece lingerie set. he’s stunned to say the least, eyes tracing the outline of your figure — picking and observing the small tattoos sitting just above your ass and right below your left thigh.

“eren? you with me?” your question snaps him out of your forbidden trance. eren clears his throat, running a hand down his chest in a self-comforting manner. it takes everything in him to control the arousal forming in his pants. there was no denying it — you were fucking gorgeous, but this wasn’t a regular hookup and you weren’t just a regular girl.

you were his best friend and right now, the hard cock in his pants is thinking otherwise.

“y-yeah, i’m with you. i’m right here.” you don’t see the way his eyes look you up and down, nor do you see him sucking on his bottom lip while doing so. instead, your focus is on the inner thoughts in your head, pondering about if your choice of attire was overdone.

“is it too much? i saw it at the mall earlier today after class and i thought it would be fitting —“ he cuts you off before you could even dare finish that sentence.

“nah, you..,” he takes a moment, looking at you in awe as if he’d just seen an angel, “you look beautiful.” you don’t perceive the smoothness of his voice but it’s there. it’s so obviously there, and you’re so obviously breathtaking.

face bare, lips coated in a thin layer of lipgloss and smelling as if you’d just showered in roses — like said, breathtaking.

“i-im sorry. i can take it off if it makes you uncomfortable —“

“no.” that slips out faster than he intended, but he didn’t care. it got his point across simple enough. you laugh, turning to your left to finally come face to face with him, only to dig eren in a deeper hole than he was already in.

“well..i’m ready when you are,” you announce. seeming to be all around enthused about this, you take a few steps closer, inching forward to the point where you’re arms length away. eren still stands there, quiet with gentle eyes as he grips the top ledge of the doorframe. you hear his breathing become unsteady, almost as if he’d lost that smooth talking, serenading attitude he once carried.

he felt like the virgin here.

“are you nervous?” you ask, studying the way his eyes pierce while he stares at your lips, “we can stop before it starts.”

with he way he was feeling, a wise man would’ve called it all off, but eren…eren needed needed you. he needed to touch you, to feel you, to please you in some way — beyond the act of just giving you guidance.

he answers your question with a question, “are you?” you shake your head, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet as you wait for his next statement.

but his next move surprises you.

without hesitation, you watch as eren towers over you, taking his thumb and index to lift your chin — letting you naturally meet his alluring gaze, “can i kiss you, yn?” the moment you begin to nod is the same exact moment when his lips brush against your own. the contact almost shocking the both of you as a small gasp leaves your mouth, and his stuttered hand grasps the side of your neck.

eren was kissing you. he was kissing you as if you’d easily break under his touch. the butterflies in your stomach begin to flip. by default, you close your eyes and fall into it — moving along and following his soft yet hungry pace.

it was funny. it was like you were kissing each other as if you’d been waiting to do so your entire lives. considering you’d always deemed eren as attractive and an overall somewhat decent man, the thought of him giving you butterflies had never occurred.

if anything, those same butterflies were present while you spent time with connie, but never ever have they fluttered like this. maybe it was the heat of the moment, or maybe it was just an effort to set the mood, but this felt like an eternity you’d never wish to end.

his hand was incredibly light against your neck, giving you a distinct chill as the one creeping down your waist sends an unfamiliar shiver elsewhere. as the kiss gradually intensifies, over the course of a few seconds, reaching its peak, he then sucks on your bottom lip. pulling and yanking on it like he was in dire need of more — which he was.

he’s groaning, he’s hard, and most importantly, he’s infatuated. your lips felt like heaven against his, so plush and so comforting. eren was so lost in you that he couldn’t even begin to fathom the consequences that may come.

“y-you can touch me some more,” you mumble in between breaths — and that was all he needed.

“where…tell me where, baby.”

baby — a word you thought you never hear coming out of eren’s mouth when referring to you. it didn’t make you contemplate much though, it was hard to think about anything at all once you felt his hands grip and mush at your backside. he fondles it in his palms, letting your skin mold into his hands.

“i more, ren. more please…”

he hears you, he hears you so clearly — and he wants more of you too, “what, hm? want me to touch you here?” you feel his hand sneak around toward your inner thigh, fingers tips grazing the area near your pussy. you let out an unexpected sigh of pleasure.

“an important part of intimacy is what makes you feel good. so tell me, what feels good to you, yn?” eren appeared to look and sound more confident than he felt.

“h-here. here feels good.” you gesture toward your pretty pink underwear that had been fighting to be taken off for the last five minutes. eren was just as ready as you were, waiting for the moment you were comfortable enough to allow him to please you like he was itching to.

“yeah, you like touching yourself there don’t you?”

“y-yes,”

“you want me to touch you there?”

there should be a world record for how quickly you whimper ‘yes’ under your breath. the same goes for how quickly eren scoops you from the floor, cupping his hands underneath the back of your thighs as he carries you in his arms toward your bed. eren lays you on your back, your spine hitting the fluffed sheets of your mattress. as much as he wanted you right then and there, the thought of your innocence comes back to mind.

this was your first time.

“we’ll take it slow, alright?” he asks, and when he doesn’t hear a response from you he becomes worried. the energy shifts from hot and hasty to nerve wracking and what the fuck am i doing, and it’s evident, “do you wanna’ stop? we can forget that shit in the bathroom ever happened, okay? i don’t mind—“

“no! no, it’s..it’s okay, ren. really, i’m just a bit nervous that’s all.”

you weren’t lying. you were more than comfortable with him being the one to do this. in truth, you were more turned on than you’ve ever been, but then again this was all so surreal. the boy you’ve called best friend your entire life was about to be the first to see you in such a personal way.

there were so many what ifs — too many to count on your own two hands. what if there was a possibility he gets uninterested mid-way through? what if he was judgmental of the way you looked? what if he lies about your anatomy just to spare you the embarrassment?

these were all the things you’d thought of, but these were also all of the things that eren would never in a million fucking years do.

“nervous? of me?”

“it’s just, you’re the only one who’s ever…seen down there and i don’t know if —“

“look at me.” his hands travel up and down your thighs, comforting and soothing your jitters as you fight the intense amount of eye contact he was throwing your way, “can you look at me, please?” eren’s treasuring voice allows you to relax a bit, your eyes meeting his.

“you’re an angel — an absolute angel. you have nothing to be ashamed of. especially in front of me, okay?” you nod, breath remaining steady after hearing his words of encouragement. you shoot him that sweet, signature smile, allowing him to wipe away the small tear that’d fallen down your cheek.

“you’re too pretty to be cryin’ like that. worrying over nothing. lemme’ make you feel better..”

you let your back fall back onto your bed once again, watching as eren lowers down onto his knees while coming face to face with your cunt, “spread your legs for me,” he kindly orders. eren has no problem helping you do so, lifting your squished thighs onto his shoulders while your ass hangs off of the bed.

he takes the hair tie around his wrist and gathers his hair back, pulling his strands into a low, loose bun to the back of his head. there were a few more pieces of small hairs that scattered across his hairline, making him look all the more handsome than he already did.

“ready?”

you nod.

“if there’s ever a time where you want me to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

you wished you could’ve captured the look on his face on camera, cause it was definitely a sight to remember. you hadn’t seen his cheeks this red since he peed himself in front of his crush in the second grade.

“can i take these off?” these referring to your underwear. the same pair underwear that reveal a damp patch in the middle now that eren was really looking at them. once you voice a simple yes, he takes a second to admire you. running his fingers along the waistband, eyes roaming all over with no clue what they should look at first. you were too pretty — too lovely for him to even begin comprehending.

eren hears you lightly groan, and he begins to pry your underwear off, but he does this slowly — so slowly that it’s almost unbearable for you. he was moving as if you were a brittle creature in danger of being easily corrupted ; which you were, and that’s when he felt the need to pinch himself. seeing your hips lurch around in an effort to get him to move faster was one of the cutest things eren’s ever laid his eyes on.

there was no way he was in this position right now. kneeled in front of you with your bare cunt staring back at him, your folds sleek with your own liquid bliss dripping from them like honey on a comb. to put it short, you looked good enough to eat — and that’s exactly what eren was going to do : devour you like you were the last meal he’d ever be able to taste.

he kisses your inner thighs, the intention of leaving marks becoming prevalent as he makes his way down toward your pussy, “you ever play with yourself?” eren was so close — close enough for you to be able to feel his breath on your clit, tickling you.

“s-sometimes,” you couldn’t look at him. not when he’s on his knees and touching you like this. he hadn’t even begun the action and you were already losing hope in the idea of you being able to keep your composure.

“ever had someone do it for you?”

with unsteady breaths leaving your lips, you choose to answer honestly, “no.” he chuckles, taking his thumb and unexpectedly grazing it over your clit. you nearly jolt at the feeling. given you’ve been the only one with the access down there, it felt much different feeling someone else’s hand.

“i can tell. look at how responsive you are, mama.” he sounded fascinated, flicking you gently just to get you used to the sensation. you felt so sensitive, so fragile — and that wouldn’t even be the be the end of it, “and this pussy’s so fuckin’ wet..”

“erenn… wanna — i wanna’ feel more!”

“what, hm? more what?” he keeps at the slow pace of his thumb, not stopping or increasing until he hears your next few words fill his ears and shoot straight to his pants.

“your mouth..wanna’ feel your mouth, ren. please?” you say this as if he didn’t look like he was sitting on the edge of his seat just waiting for you to grant him the access. it doesn’t take any further words for eren to latch his mouth onto your pussy slowly. he makes an introduction with small pecks to your visibly puffy clit, making sure to pay attention to the way your body reacted to the simple touch.

he watches your belly rise up and down from the snag in your pattern of breath. once he sees you begin to grow comfortable, he makes the jump to lay his tongue flat against your pussy, licking a long stripe against your core and letting the sticky salvia from his mouth lubricate you.

“ooh – fuck!” you whimper, quickly covering your mouth once realizing what’d slipped out. eren sees this, reaching his hand out for you to grab before taking his mouth off of you for a split second.

“don’t do that shit. i wanna’ hear you.”

he resumes, pressing the bridge of his nose against your clit and licking your folds to create a sort of double penetration. you feel the texture of his tongue tickling your labia, applying minimum pressure to ensure a pleasurable stream of delight traveling through your belly, “feels s-so good. you’re so fucking good at tha – nnn!” when eren starts to feel himself losing his breath, he comes up for air, just to see you now resting on your elbows and looking down at him with quizzical eyes. he’d never seen you look so happy.

there was sweat beaming from your forehead and a bit of it forming on your upper lip, the lips that which eren was fighting the urge to kiss. your bra strap had slipped down a bit, now resting on your upper arm and exposing a bit of your nipple that slipped from the cup.

“w-why’d you stop?” you ask, hyperventilating. eren rests his head against the inner flesh of your thigh, looking as dazed as ever.

“i-im sorry, you just look…so pretty.”

this wasn’t out of the norm. eren always made it a goal to uplift you whenever he could, but there was something about the deliverance of that sentence that sent your mind into a never-ending frenzy. it was hard to believe that this was anything more than just a simple gesture to really get himself into character with the heart shaped desire he carried in his eyes.

“you look pretty too,” the echo in your head must’ve been deceiving you. you’d hoped to keep that one to yourself but the look on his face told you that he’d definitely heard you say that out loud.

“yeah? bet you wonder what else i look pretty doin’ don’t you?”

a smug grin appears on his lips, but the teasing remark did no justice for how he truly felt. instead, he just decides to show you ; placing his mouth back into your pussy with little to no remorse with his tongue this time. your hands magically find their way to his hair, running your nails through his scalp as you balance your upper body with one elbow. eren groans into you, the sound reverberating through your core and shaking you a bit.

at one point, his fingers brush past your hole, earning a loud unexpected moan from you. this shocks him, almost as much as it shocks you. you didn’t know why, but there was a sense of urgency pumping through your veins. you wanted more — more than what he was already giving you after you’d asked the first time.

“oh? you want a finger, don’t you?”

“mmfuck – yes! yes, just, do something eren, please!” you beg. your back arches from the sheets, fists bawling with anticipation. eren stands onto his feet and finds a seat on the bed. his back now rests against the headboard, eren’s chest heaving as he motions his index and middle finger in a ‘come here’ motion.

you hesitate at first, not sure exactly where he wants you until he’s pulling you into the space between his thighs. you instantly feel the warmth as you collide with his tank top covered chest. he was so much larger than you — and well, that’s the benefit of having a best friend that stood tall at a whopping 6’3.

“lemme’ see that pussy,” eren orders and you oblige quickly, parting your thighs for him once again while his chin sits in the crook of your neck, “isn’t she pretty, look at her..” you feel his hand grasping on your jaw softly, directing your focus to the soppy, wet cunt between your legs.

you were still so wet. wet enough to feel your essence dripping down your crack and onto your bed. you were messy but you wanted to be messier — you wanted to feel messier.

and he reads your thoughts before you even have to say a damn thing.

“you want me to play with you, hm? teach you how to take fingers before takin’ dick, is that right?”

“ren, just do something –“

“answer me, baby. don’t be shy. this is about you and what you want. so why don’t you just tell me what it is you want from me?” the room felt hot, and the air felt thick. the only contact between you both being your back against eren’s chest and his hand casually caressing your tummy, “p-put them in. god – just put them the fuck in,” you whine. eren’s chest fumbled with a laugh and he gives the side of your forehead a quick kiss.

“there she is.”

goosebumps pattern your chestnut skin when you finally feel his hand inching toward your pussy. you carefully watch, mouth held agape and your eyes batting shut the moment his fingers move in a counterclockwise motion against your agitated clit.

“gotta’ prep you some more, okay? i don’t wanna’ hurt you.” oh, right, pain. you’d been so blindsided by the pleasure that you’d forgotten that this in fact was not the simplest of processes.

eren keeps rubbing your clit, his eyes piercing into the side of your skull as he does this. you take a second to observe the veins that decorated his forearms. blue and greenish lines hiking from his wrist to his inner elbow. you’d always thought he had the prettiest hands. so neatly manicured and topped with a thick coat of clear polish — a pink color if you’d volunteer to paint them for him.

you don’t know why, but all of this made you crave him — badly. you turn your head, wandering eyes finding his. you stare at him, then his lips, then him again. he looked so kissable.

you just had to do it.

leaning in, you take in his musky scent and it lures you in closer. so close to where you’re practically poking your lips out to get him to kiss you back — and he does. for the second time tonight, your heart bursts with excitement feeling his lips on yours. you place your hands on his thighs, grinding along with his fingers, “i think i’m wet enough,” you mumble. he looks down, seeing that — you were indeed wet enough. your slick covered the majority of his fingers and your pulsing pussy felt like it was just about ready to give up on its orgasm.

“i think so too,” he pauses the motion, hovering his middle finger over your hole, and begins to softly lubricate the area with your own mess, “it’ll be uncomfortable at first. body isn’t used to being stretched, y’know?” eren pauses, lips coming close to your ear as he whispers, “but i’ll break you in…and i’ll do it so good…and you’re gonna’ tell me just how good it feels, okay?”

that sentence alone got you wetter, and eren feels this — literally. he kisses your temple over and over as he slowly begins to push his finger inside of you, “don’t look away, you’ll miss how good you’re doing..” you clench onto his opposite arm ; the one that wasn’t busy giving you a bit of discomfort, and you bite down on your bottom lip.

it was one finger, and you’d been used to that. you’d done it to yourself maybe once or twice, but you’ve never gotten any sort of pleasure out of doing so. but now, it felt so different — the slow in and out, in and out, pace. his finger pushing and gliding along your snugged walls while he licks and nips at your neck and ear. it felt amazing.

“f-fuck eren, so…so good,” your breathless chest rises and falls, nipples as hard as they’ve ever been — needing to be touched. your hand slowly creeps up to touch one of your needy tits, gripping and mounding it in your hand slowly while pulling your nipples between your fingers.

he’s watching you — studying you, actually. this wasn’t just a learning experience for you, but for him as well. eren was learning exactly how to navigate your body. he knew which itches to scratch and what barriers you’d overcome. he got to see you in your purest form — carefree and exhilarated.

“y’know…the human body is a temple, yn,” eren begins, resting his head on your shoulder as he wraps his other arm across your chest, pulling you in tightly, “only the worthiest of men should be able to touch you like this.” you didn’t know where he was going with this, and you didn’t know why it was giving you the feeling it was, but you wouldn’t stop it even if you had the option to. his finger felt too good. you wanted — no, you needed another.

“so, what makes me so worthy, baby?”

“b-because i trust you.”

you feel the pressure of another finger slowly making its move to inch it’s way in — eren holding back until you give him the green light to even try, “yeah? you trust me to do this too?” he asks, pushing the second finger past your barricade as gently as he could. he didn’t lie, the stinging discomfort was nothing to mess with — but you wanted it.

“sh-shit eren!

you wanted to feel him stuff you full.

you clench your eyes shut, face scrunching up as you whine a bit at the temporary pain, “you’re doing good, yn. you’re bein’ such a good girl..”

that opened you up more. able to get better access to you, eren’s fingers moving together as one eventually became pleasurable. the uncomfortable feeling had subsided and somehow turned into an eye rolling, spine twisting pressure against your core. his fingers were slowly, but surely, jabbing into your pussy, a small creamy noise following behind his movements as the wetness of you makes it easier for him to get around.

“o-ooh! fuuuck, eren…right there –” you could barely maintain pulling a full sentence from your brain, but luckily for you, you didn’t need to say a word. eren could feel every little thought or emotion through your pussy. the way your walls naturally open up for him, giving him the opportunity to find that perfect spot ; it was like you were made for this — made for him.

“she’s so needy – thinkin’ maybe i should move a little faster, don't you? all i wanna’ do is make you cum, mama.” he says this as if it’s a promise — and to be honest, he was pretty close to achieving that promise. the sound of your whines and the squirms of your hips were enough to tell him to pick up speed.

so that's exactly what he does.

eren plunges his fingers in and out of you, poking at what he was certain was your g-spot — every time he’d hit it with his fingertips, there was another whimper leaving your mouth, “i feel that pussy tightin’ up, you wanna’ cum, don’t you?” tauntingly, he asks this as if you weren’t already on the brink of tears, “don’t fight yourself. let it go.”

now eren’s hand is moving rapidly, automatically making your legs spread further open. now, he was really there — and so were you. the knot in your stomach that's been there this whole time was starting to unravel. you rest your head firmly against his shoulder, “rennn – feels so fuckin’ good! don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“i won’t, baby. i’m right here – i feel you, just let me have it.” his encouragement works and he reels you in. you feel your stomach contracting as your heart starts to race. eren sits you up straight, keeping your weakened body from falling over while he keeps working your pussy.

“eren, eren, eren! f-fuuck yess!” you shout and his fingers curl upwards creating a distinct squelching sound and you claw onto whatever you could find — that being the same arm between your legs.

“cum for me. cum for me, come on,” out of nowhere, you release — and all over his hand, at that. your eyes are wandering, seeing blank spots trickling the ceiling as you cum on both eren’s fingers and your mattress, “atta’ fuckin’ girl..”

he pumps you some more before slowly pulling his fingers out, leaving a stringed trail of your cum to follow them. there was enough on him for both he, and you to get a little taste — but he needed to know you were okay first.

you were reclined against his chest still, eyes closed with your exhales being rather hoarse. eren wraps both arms around you, hugging you from behind as he kisses the top of your scalp repeatedly, “m’ so proud of you, yn. you did great – so, fuckin’ great.”

your head is still in a slight daze, and although your vision had come back, you hadn’t yet gained the full consciousness to realize what the hell just happened.

eren just fingered you.

eren just made you cum.

eren just mind fucked you.

there were so many things to think about, so many moments to cherish, but most importantly — there were so many doubts running through your mind. you walked into your apartment today under the impression that this would just be a piece of cake : he comes in, he teaches you, he leaves — that’s it. so why did you want to remain snuggled into his arms? why did you want him to kiss you to sleep after coming down from that life changing orgasm?

why did you want…eren?

“you okay? i wasn’t too rough was i? anything hurt?” he must’ve sensed your uncertainty. you quickly rise a bit, turning over your shoulder only to see him with worried eyes.

“no, no. you were perfect,” you go to lift your hand up to side of his face but you stop before completing that thought, “but, i think we need to make some rules.” his already flattened expression got even flatter. eren could feel his heart dropping to his stomach at the thought of even making you uncomfortable in the slightest bit. that was the last thing he’d ever want to do.

“r-rules?”

you nod, now feeling the need to sit directly in front of him, still in between his legs. you hold his hands in yours, looking at him with sympathy, “you did nothing wrong, ren. i just think we should set some boundaries?”

“oh. so..uh, what’d you have in mind?”

you sit there for a moment, reminiscing back to a few moments ago when you were shaking in his comforting grasp, “well, maybe we should hold off on the kissing? i just…i’m with connie and i don’t think it’s appropriate to kiss you while —“

“got it.”

you’re left silent. eren had a habit of cutting you off, but as of right now, he seemed rather passive than talkative. the guy couldn’t even make eye contact with you. he only sits, eyes fixed on any other object in sight but you.

“eren —“

“it’s okay, really. i understand. no kissing, anything else you can think of that you might wanna’ add?” eren held a forced grin. there was no need to elucidate. he’d already caught on to what you were throwing down. you wanted him to forget about it. you wanted him to pretend like the brief moment of his lips on yours didn’t mean anything. he knows you’re confused, and so was he, but to deny the spark between you both in that moment would be ludicrous.

“well i…i haven’t really thought about anything else yet, but i’ll let you know when i do,” you stare into eren’s empty eyes for a few more seconds before he abruptly gets up and heads toward your bathroom. you watch as he snags a towel from your linen cabinet and runs it under the warm sink water.

he wrings it out, now bringing the towel over toward you ; who still sits up straight while watching him do all of this. he sits next to you, adjusting the towel in his palm, “open your legs, please.”

you were ineffable. completely silent, but slowly parting your thighs to allow him to gently wipe away the mess that streamed between them. you don’t say anything, and neither does he, but you both secretly cherish the feeling of his hands roaming your body.

a bit of time passes, and you fall asleep. you didn’t know how, but you’d ended up on the couch in eren’s arms — snuggled in close with your kuromi plushie between your arms as you dreamt of anything besides the events that took place tonight.

you drifted off easily, eren on the other hand, couldn’t spare to shut his eyes. there were too many questions without answers running through his mind for him to even think about sleeping at all.

in all of his years of knowing you, he’d never thought about you as anything more than a companion, a partner in crime, a best friend — but tonight revealed that narrative to be false. eren liked the feeling of your body against his. he liked to be able to navigate which spots made you weak in the knees.

he liked that he would be your firsts.

but to openly say those words aloud is forbidden. you were right, you were somewhat with connie. it wasn’t eren’s place to feel any type of way about how you felt.

you asked him to help you out, not fall for you.

so that’s exactly what he’d do. he’d give you what you want. he’d play the role until his help is unwanted, and although it’d ache him, that ache would be nothing compared to the ache of losing you as a whole.

eren takes a moment to look at your somnolent face, finding himself with the same tingly feeling he’d had when he kissed you earlier. his eyes bat as he finds himself in a daze, reaching his hand up to touch the side of your face, eren’s cracked voice conjuring up one last sentence before returning his focus to the tv.

“you’re gonna’ be the death of me, yn..”

©️ SATORUBI 2023 please do not copy, or repost as your own <33

tags : @sully-stick-together @lalalucidity

#OMG OMG KMG FIRST CHAP #posting this and immediately logging off because i’m scared #k bye i love u i hope u enjoy #please god i hope you enjoy #eren smut #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager x reader #snk smut #snk eren

[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. Curse words, Jungkook's car, mentions of Jungkook's accident, mention of reader getting kicked out in TFS, explicit content: breast/nipple play, hickey, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, hair pulling, jerking off, squirting, praise, pain kink (Jungkook), balls squeezing (lmao), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

☆word count: 9.4k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: First chapter is here and it's time to CRY (I apologize in advance for the therapy bills) :') Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Wednesday, April 19th 

                The setting sun turns the living room into liquid gold, bathing you in golden warmth that traces your features delicately from where you sit on the couch. Spring is upon you – outside, you can hear birds singing, and the gentle wind of spring carries the smell of melted snow, of wet soil and of early leaves.

You sigh. Your phone has been dead silent all day, as it’s been for weeks now, and the loneliness of it keeps the winter cold close. Always.

Jungkook said he would call. He often says it, often promises he wants to go to sleep with your voice at his ear, since he can’t sleep with you in his arms. Years ago, when he first started his job in Europe, he did, calling you every night when you got home from work and he went to sleep in a European city too far from you.

He usually leaves for a few months at a time. Never more than three, and he usually stays for a month after that before leaving again. He’s been photographing for museums all over Europe, and his latest job at the Louvres in Paris seems to have been keeping him more occupied than the others.

You’d think it’d make sense – the Louvres is the Louvres. But you miss Jungkook. Miss the early years of your relationship, when you spent almost every day together. When he moved in with you in your first apartment, the one he had found for you while you weren’t even dating yet.

A deep ache has settled inside of you this time around. Because, even if he says he’ll try, even if he promised it wouldn’t be like the last time he was away, this time is worse. Far worse. You’ve only spoken to him on the phone once since he left half a month ago, and he texts you sparingly throughout the week.

You never thought there would come a day when your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t be what it was at the beginning. Hell, the honeymoon phase lasted for almost three years, and then you had another year before he started working overseas. The first months he had spent away had rekindled the flame, passion and desire burning through you the moment you laid your eyes on him again the day he had come back.

But distance is difficult. Distance can tame even the wildest flame, and you’re starting to believe it has tamed the flame between you and Jungkook. You hate it – every night for a week you’ve fallen asleep with a heart so heavy it felt as if you weren’t going to wake up. And every day you’ve woken up feeling even worse, and you don’t know what’s going to help anymore.

You turn your head, catching sight of the frames on the shelves by the window. They too bathe in setting sunlight, shining like the glass is made of gold. From where you’re sitting, you can’t really see the pictures, but you know them by heart.

There are the pictures from his first photo exhibit, when you were still in college. Pictures of you, of him falling in love with you and you falling in love with him. Then there are pictures of that first Christmas, and of the first time you celebrated your birthday with him. Pictures of you, of him holding you, and of his hand in yours. Pictures from when Jiho gave birth to her first child Lisa, and then a picture with you two on a camping trip with Lisa and her younger brother Charles. That trip happened two summers ago, replacing your usual annual visit to a cabin in the woods, the year after the dance crew retired. Because as much as you and your friends loved that cabin in the woods, loved the dance crew, you eventually grew out of it.

There are pictures from Heather and Bridget’s wedding last fall, pictures of your story with Jungkook as it unfolded through the years.

No new pictures have been added since that last picture in the fall, because nothing worth taking pictures of happened since then. Jungkook has been gone most of the time, and when he’s here he’s too tired to do anything, preferring staying in and cuddling on the couch as you watch hours of Netflix without ever speaking.

You see the doom. It’s been coming for you, tightening around you like a scourge. Nothing you’ve been trying to do has helped – not even the nice lingerie pictures you sent him two nights ago. Not even the letter you wrote for him, though he did have flowers delivered to you at the firm.

Your coworker Harrison made fun of you for the flowers, teasing you like he’s taken to teasing you whenever something related to Jungkook happens. Which, as much as you hate admitting, is not much anymore.

Sometimes, when he’s away, you think he’s a ghost in your life. You wish you could turn back time and go back to the night where it all started between you. The July night of years ago, or perhaps the night of the hotel roof in Chicago. You struggle to pinpoint where you’d go back, but you do believe that anything would be better than the now.

You blink away the blurriness in your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady the aching beats of your heart. You glance at your phone – your empty notification screen stares back at you, a reminder that for all he says, he’s stopped trying this time around.

You figure you could call him. Could make the effort, but you’re tired. Tired of trying when it seems like it doesn’t work anymore. And so your aching heart keeps beating in your chest, and you put your phone away to cook dinner when it’s become clear that he won’t call.

And when you go to bed, after having taken the dog out one last time, your phone still lies empty, the picture of you and him that you have as a background taunting you, haunting you until troubled sleep finds you in its hold.

Friday, May 5th

                Jungkook hates himself. Hates how every time he says he’ll call you, he ends up falling asleep. He doesn’t know why; it’s like his heart fights against his body. But tonight, he’s determined to call. He’s been meaning to show you the lights of the Eiffel tower, when the clock strikes midnight, and he promised he will tonight.

You haven’t replied to his text. He’s been feeling you slipping through his fingers for a few weeks. You barely reply when he talks to you anymore, sending one-worded answers most of the time. Maybe that is the reason why he’s been struggling to call – there’s an impending doom lingering around your relationship, and he wants to avoid it for as long as he can.

He’s been replaying your fight earlier last week on repeat since it happened. You, screaming that he said he was going to change, was going to try to call more and make more effort before he went to Paris. Him, telling you that you should be understanding, that he’s doing his best and that most nights he goes to bed before you’ve even finished work. You’d told him sometimes you wished you could hate him, as it’d be easier than loving him from afar. The words struck harder than a physical blow could have, and since then the doom has been clearer in the distance, as if it’s getting closer.

Just thinking about it hurts too much. He can’t wait for his contract with the Louvres to be done. Can’t wait to be home, and to tell you in person just how much he loves you.

He thinks his love has just been growing stronger. Through all the years, it’s just been growing inside of him, making him into a better person with every beat of his heart. The thought brings a smile to his lips, strangely enough, even though there’s still pain in his heart.

He still remembers when you first got Bam. He thinks that day is the one that made his love grow the most, until he thought his heart was going to burst in his chest. It fortunately never did, and he looks at his phone’s background quickly, needing to see you.

There you are, in all your glory. Hair a mess as you hold a tiny puppy in your arm, with your eyes sparkling like they’re holding the light of the universe. Of his universe, and it hasn’t changed. Still, today he knows if he were to see you, you still would hold the light of his universe.

After all, it started a July night seven years ago, and it’s never going to go away.

Thirteen days until he’s going to be home. And he decided to take a longer break this time around – he doesn’t have another contract yet. He’s been approached by the Victoria and Albert museum in London, but he’s told them that he likely won’t be able to go until late October.

They said they’ll be happy to have him whenever his schedule allows.

He’s yet to tell you – it’s a surprise, and he reckons your relationship terribly needs it. And he’s excited, as it means months that he’ll get to spend with you.

He’s going to take some small photography jobs back home until then, and spend the rest of his time with you, whenever you’re not at the firm. He reckons he can always meet you there for lunch – he used to do that when you first got the job at the firm where your father used to work.

Jungkook sighs, and he glances at the time on his phone. It’s almost time to call, and he’s proud he’s been able to stay up, sitting on the balcony of his Airbnb, watching the Eiffel tower in the distance.

The Louvres is paying for the Airbnb, and they really chose one of the best in the city. The view of the tower is beautiful, night and day, the architecture of it satisfying in ways he can barely comprehend. He took pictures of it through the different weathers, and he’s excited to show you when he’ll be back.

Five minutes before the clock strikes midnight, Jungkook lets out a long yawn as he goes to your profile, hitting the Facetime button. He’s told you he would call, up to the very minute, and he doesn’t want to disappoint this time around.

He watches his face on the screen as it rings. It rings and rings, and yet you don’t pick up. Something unsettling grows in his gut, and he pulls at his lip piercing in worry as he calls again when the call claims it failed to connect.

He tries four times more, until the Eiffel tower is sparkling in the distance, and your form still has yet to appear. So he looks up, watches the show and then heads to bed, each of his step feeling heavier than the last.

The next morning, he wakes up to some texts of yours.

[04:21 am] bby <3: sorry, i was out for dinner with friends from work [04:22 am] bby <3: I assume u’re asleep now? [04:41 am] bby <3: good night

For some reason, he can’t bring himself to reply.

Thursday, May 18th

                It’s been raining all week. The world, crying as if it’s coming to an end. It’s unsettling, and you miss the sunrays. Miss the warmth that they carry, because now the world seems void of any.

You’re not looking forward to going home. It’s the first time that the thought of seeing Jungkook is scaring you – you have a feeling the distance between you is more than just physical, and you’re afraid to see him.

Afraid to be faced with the fact that everything changed irreparably.

You’ve slept in his clothes every night of May. It hasn’t made you feel closer to him, has only made you feel like he’s drifting further away, like a piece of wood lost at sea, pulled away by the current. And as much as you long for his return, you fear he’s crossed a threshold now.

You fear you’re not into it anymore.

The thought has made you cry countless times. You never thought you’d get to a moment in life when splitting with Jungkook seemed to be an option. You thought you were made of forever, of an eternity built just for you. You thought he’d always be enough for you, and that you’d always be enough for him too. But when Taehyung and Jo got engaged and said that they’d marry the first weekend of September, you realized that you want that for yourself too.

You want to start growing with your partner, you want them to be around. And Jungkook just isn’t.

You’ve spoken to Jiho about it. A haunting conversation, that you’ve been replaying in your mind constantly since it happened a week and a half ago.

She came over, only to find you cradling the picture of the July night sky, the one Jungkook had given you after his exposition. She sat next to you, tired eyes surveying your profile. When you started crying, she pulled you in a hug, and held you against her chest as you sobbed.

When you calmed down, she ran a soothing hand on your back. She waited for you to patiently find your words, and when you had, they spilled from your mouth, with no dam to stop them anymore.

“I think I’m going to break up with him,” you told her. It had you chasing more tears away, hating the weakness of your heart as it broke in your chest. “I can’t do the distance anymore. I want something like you and Hobi have, like Jo and Taehyung have. I want someone to wake up to every day and… I don’t… I don’t think loving him is enough anymore.”

She offered you a sad smile, her features sober as she nodded once. “Will you regret it?”

A lone tear spilled on your cheek, holding all the answers she needed. You let it roll down your cheek, let it fall in your lap. Jiho nodded once again, understanding, and added, “I’ll be there for you.”

Your decision was made that day. You don’t think you’ll change your mind, but you’re afraid to see him. Afraid to be faced with the reality of it.

The worst part is, you think you already started getting adjusted to living without him. Hell, the distance has been a good training, so you think you’ll be okay after. It’s just the during that scares you, because you know that when he breaks, you break too.

You know how much you broke for him once. You know you’ll break again, know the first days are going to be hell, but you know that in the long term, it’s the right decision.

At least you hope so.

Jungkook texted you that he got home in the middle of the afternoon, and that he was going to take a nap. He said he couldn’t wait to see you, and you’ve had to swallow countless lumps in your throat whenever you’ve thought of the words.

You take a deep steadying breath as your shift ends, leaving you with no choice but to head home. Harrison notices your fallen features, and he offers you a kind smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises.

You want to tell him he’s a liar, but all you do is offer him a tight-lipped smile in return.

*****

                The apartment in soundless when you finally reach home. Outside, the wind plays in the leaves, splashing water against the windows. It makes for a relaxing sound, yet it does nothing to relax you.

You take off your shoes by the door and drop your purse on the small table just a few steps in as Bam comes to greet you. You pet the dog mindlessly, scanning your surroundings to see if Jungkook is coming too, but it seems he fell asleep. You stop by the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you survey the world outside the window, hoping it holds any kind of solace. It doesn’t – the world is crying, and you think by the end of the night there’s a high chance you will be crying too.

You sigh, try to swallow around the lump in your throat but it doesn’t work. You choke on a sip of water, and startle when Jungkook asks if you’re okay.

You didn’t hear him sneaking up on you.

You turn around, the sense of impending doom growing tenfold at the thought that he’s going to be right there, in the flesh, when you set your eyes on him. And he is – a sleepy Jungkook is standing in the door of the kitchen, leaning against the frame as he offers you a small, tired smile.

You’re not sure what to do at first, and when he opens up his arms for you you rush towards him, leaving the glass of water on the counter.

His embrace is familiar, warm. If he wasn’t gone for so long, you think it’d be enough to keep you here, forever. You both remain silent, and your heart beats achingly in your chest as you try to hold him closer, as if you can be one.

As if that’ll make him stay.

“Hey,” he says, voice choked with emotion.

You only hold him tighter, and tears burn behind your closed eyelids as you hide your face in his neck. He smells familiar, like home. He smells like the clothes you’ve been wearing in an attempt to gather the courage to break up with him.

You hate yourself deeply, then. You think about the years, and aren’t they enough? Isn’t the love enough?

He grabs your shoulders, delicately, to push you away. And then his hands move to your cheeks, and he’s tilting your head back to press his soft, pink lips against yours. It’s barely just a peck, and it hurts so much you think you’ll die.

“How was work?” he asks when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathe in slowly, and then out, your breath mingling with his in the space between you. “Long,” you answer, because it’s the truth.

“I’ll cook you dinner,” he says.

If he notices you holding your breath as your heart keeps on breaking, he doesn’t say. Instead, he pulls away, leaves you standing by the door as he moves in the room proper. You’re not sure you’ll survive a dinner with him, not when the inevitability of what you’re going to do is looming over you, like a sword of Damocles ready to cut the link between you and him.

“Okay,” you breathe out.

You sit at the table as he fishes ingredients out of the fridge – stuff you clearly didn’t buy. Which means he went grocery shopping, and you just ache so fiercely the air turns to poison in your lungs.

“Do you want to chop the vegetables?” he asks.

You gulp before nodding curtly. “Sure.”

You move closer to him as he puts said vegetables on the counter, and you grab a knife as he hands you a cutting board. It’s familiar, domestic, and it helps lessen the pain somehow. To have this moment, with him, even though your decision is made.

“You’re silent,” Jungkook comments as you finish dicing an onion.

You purse your lips, head hanging low as you reply, “I’m tired, sorry.”

He turns on the stove, placing a pan on top of it. As he’s putting oil in it, he glances at you. You barely notice from the corner of your eyes, but you still can tell he’s trying to figure how to reach you, in the dark place where your mind has gone.

“Something happened?”

No. Nothing happened. Nothing happened when it should have. Was distance really enough to kill your relationship with him?

Needing the conversation to move away from the current subject, you reply, “Not really.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you add, “How was Paris?”

“It sucked,” Jungkook is quick to answer. “It was a lot of work and I barely had time to explore the city.”

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding your head.

You freeze as he moves closer, taking the knife out of your hands. He forces you to turn towards him, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I took some pictures of the Eiffel tower for you,” he admits. “It was pretty at night. Made me think of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, and for once you win against the tears that were threatening to spill. “You did?” you let out when your eyelids finally flutter open again. “You can show me over dinner.”

“I’d rather just spend time with you for now,” he says, softly, and you hate that his big, doe eyes feel like heaven. “I… I missed you.”

You think he knows. You both know what’s coming. But you want this last moment with him, so you say, “I missed you too. Way too much.”

“You’ve been sleeping in my clothes,” he teases, but it’s lacking the usual lilt to his voice that makes you roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah.”

He pulls at his piercing, and you focus on that because his eyes are going to read every little treacherous thought in your head, and you don’t think you’d survive that.

He doesn’t say anything else before he busies himself with putting the onion you diced in the pan. You lean on the counter to watch him cook, handing him the ingredients that you know he’ll need.

You’ve cooked together a thousand times before, and never you would have thought that there’d be a last time. You clench your jaw against the pain, and though you don’t feel hungry, you sit at the kitchen table with him to eat.

You manage to get some food down. Jungkook is an amazing cook, and you’ve always loved his food. It’s something you know you’re likely to miss, when he won’t be around anymore.

Fuck.

After dinner, you do the dishes while Jungkook brings Bam outside, as he usually does when he’s here. He’s back before you’re done, and you focus on finishing to clean the dishes, trying to ignore him.

He’s been silent through the meal, and you’ve avoided the glances he’s sent your way. But when he grabs your wrist, gently, you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine. It takes you a few seconds to register that it’s because tears are welling up in his innocent gaze, and you wish you’d die right on the spot.

“Why is it awkward?” he asks.

You purse your lips and then bite the tip of your tongue, as if it’ll help. “Can we go to bed early?”

You don’t know why you asked that question. You convinced yourself to break up right away, but then again you think you need a last time.

You need a goodbye.

He nods, blinking the tears away. His hand moves until it’s wrapped around yours, and he pulls you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, but before he’s taken his shirt off you step in front of him, fist closing around a handful of fabric so you can pull him close.

There’s urgency in the kiss, along with yearning. It’s quick, it’s heated and desperate. You wonder if he can taste the goodbye on your tongue – does it taste bitter for him too?

Though he seemed startled from the sudden kiss, he’s quick to kiss you back, to grab your waist and pull you closer, as if that’ll make you stay. And while you kiss your mind runs with the memories – the first time you’d kissed, in that hot tub. The kiss on the hotel roof, the kiss after he’d helped you move in your first apartment.

More than that, it’s a memory from four years ago that resurfaces the most. It takes the centerpiece of the stage of your mind, and you find yourself back in your old apartment, the first one you’d ever had. The day wasn’t a special one – just a random Sunday, one Jungkook convinced you to spend in bed. He’d held you all morning, littering small kisses on the top of your head. At some point, you’d made love, slowly, lazily, as if you had all the time in the world. Halfway through it, Jungkook had stopped, resting his forehead on yours. Against your lips, he’d whispered, “Will you still love me when I’m old and grey and grumpy?”

Back then you’d laughed, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. After, you’d replied, “You know I’ll never stop loving you.”

And as you’re kissing him right now, you hope he knows that you’ll never stop loving him.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, seeking to deepen the kiss, and you let him in. Taste the dinner in his mouth, like he’s sure to taste it in yours too. It eases the bitterness somehow, and when his large hands move to your ass, you let out a breathy sound.

He swallows it as if it’s the ambrosia of the gods, and then he pushes you back towards the counter next to the sink. The shower runs in the background as he pulls you on the counter, large hands guiding you. You instinctively spread your thighs to allow him to step closer, and then you wrap your legs around him. His hands find your cheeks again, and he kisses you fervently, hungrily, yet his touch remains gentle on your cheeks, thumbs swiping back and forth.

When oxygen becomes needed, both for you and him, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You think we can wait after the shower?” he teases, and this time it has a little bit of the usual bite.

It only hurts, because now you’re not so sure he’s aware of what’s to come. He probably only thought that it was awkward because of the distance – physical. Not because the end is coming. So you let him believe it, agree to take a shower.

You let him wash your hair, a thing he’s taken to doing six years ago whenever you take a shower together. Something about him liking the scent of your shampoo. After that, you let him wash your back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it for him. To your relief, he admits he took a shower before he napped, to wash away the airplane vibes off him. So it mostly goes unnoticed, and then you’re getting out of the shower. You barely have time to dry yourself before he’s pulling you to your room, to your shared bed.

To the bed where you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you’ve made your decision.

He sits you on the bed, thumbs swiping on your cheeks gently when he bends down to peck your lips once.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You watch him leave, thinking you should find it funny that he’s butt-naked, as you are. Yet you don’t laugh, just put a hand over your aching heart as you wait for him to come back. It hurts even more when he comes back with your heating pad, a tentative smile on his lips.

“I thought this might help,” he says as he walks over to you, offering it to you.

You look at it, not knowing what to do. “Why?”

“Aren’t you…” he trails off, motioning towards you. “I don’t know, you’ve been weird. Thought you might be on your period, or having cramps?”

He’s too sweet. Too caring. Why can’t he be like this when he’s away too?

“Oh,” you let out. “I’m not.”

He looks puzzled, and his eyes drop to the heating pad in his hands. “Oh. Do you…” He gestures with the heating pad, but you shake your head no. He looks disappointed, and he puts it on the dresser before coming to sit next to you.

There’s a moment of silence, and you glance at the TV on the wall. The black screen reflects the grey light from the rainy world outside, and you turn to look out the window next. The rain is still relentless, and the trees outside look greener, darker, though that might be because the sun set behind the clouds, and night is slowly taking over the world.

Being with Jungkook has never been awkward before, and you hate that it is right now. You’d wish for one last moment, for a memory to treasure, but now you think you might have just been selfish.

He glances at you, pulling at his piercing. “Did something happen with your mother?”

He’s trying. So hard. Doesn’t he feel the distance between you and him?

“No,” you reply.

As a matter of fact, you only talk to your mother three times a year now. Without fault, she calls on Christmas and your birthday, and five years ago you’ve started calling on hers too. Other than that, you barely even text.

“Then…” he trails off before shrugging. “Whatever. Do you want to sleep or should we watch something?”

“Can we watch a studio Ghibli movie?”

Jungkook glances at the Totoro plushie, nestled in the pillows at the head of the bed right next to Appa. “My neighbor Totoro?” You nod once. He offers you a smile, nodding his head too. “Sure. As long as I get to hold you.”

You worry at your lip, though you still say, “Yes.”

A minute later you’re nestled in his embrace, and he’s starting the movie on the TV. You barely can focus though, mind zeroing in on his naked skin against yours. You want to ask him to stop with his overseas job, to come home permanently, to build a future with you here, without distance between you and him. You want to tell him you love him so much it hurts, want to tell him the months away from him are killing you.

All you do is watch the movie as if in a daze, and halfway through it, you tilt your head to look up at him. He sees you looking, and his tongue darts to his piercing as he glances down.

Your eyes go to his lips, and you reach to steal a kiss on them. This time, it’s incredibly slow, painfully so, and his arm tightens around you as his breath gets caught up in his throat.

You rest a hand on his cheek, before sliding it to the nape of his neck to keep him as close as you possibly can. He turns his head to deepen the kiss, and you turn the other way as you push your tongue in his mouth. You gently tug at the hair on the back of his neck, appreciating its silky softness.

Committing it to memory. Remembering when it was so long he could tie it back in a small ponytail, remembering when he cut it shorter for the first time. You’d teased him saying that he was a stranger, and you reckon you’d take that stranger back again.

You’d take the sweet innocence of the third year of your relationship again over what it now is.

Once, you thought you’d always want to see the end. To be able to glance back on the past, to swim in the nostalgia of the memories that it holds. Today, as the end comes, you realize you were wrong.

There’s no beauty in the ending.

Jungkook moves until he’s hovering over you, between your legs. You wrap them around his dainty waist, and you pull him inevitably closer as your hands run in his hair, while his hold him up on each side of your face. It takes him a few seconds, but soon he leans on his elbow, and one of his hands lands on the top of your head while the other moves to cup your breast.

He squeezes gently, fingers expertly pinching your nipple the way he knows that you like it. You moan softly, desperately, and he does it harder as his tongue meets yours.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he says as he pulls away, and then he’s littering hot kisses on your jaw, and on your neck. He sucks a hickey on the spot that connects your shoulder to your neck, and then laps at it to ease the sting. He’s still pinching your nipple, and though it hurts you just want more.

He doesn’t disappoint. His kisses move lower, until he’s sucking on your other breast, tongue circling your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He flicks it once, make sure it’s perched nicely on your chest before he moves to the other one, repeating the action.

Your core heats up with need, but even this demonstration of the passion between you and him doesn’t do anything against the ache of your heart. The pain wins, and you shut your eyes tightly in an attempt to focus on the sensations. To focus on him as he moves lower, slowly, pressing wet kisses on your stomach, down to your pelvis, and then on the inside of your thigh as he pushes your leg on his shoulder.

“I want you,” he murmurs between your legs, as if he’s speaking the words directly to your pussy.

“I want you too.”

That much isn’t a lie. You do want him, all of him, even though you’re aware it’s going to be the last time. So you try to disconnect mind and body, and the moment he sucks on your clit you think you succeed.

You lose your hand in the strands of his hair, tugging as his tongue starts a hellish rhythm on your clit, never once faltering as you squirm under the ministrations. When your juice is coating his chin – which you reckon doesn’t take long – he moves lower, dipping his tongue inside of you.

“So sweet,” he praises once he pulls away, just enough for you to feel his lips moving as he speaks.

“Kook…”

The nickname barely crosses the threshold of your lips, yet the grip he has on your waist, where his hands have found a home, tightens. The only indication that somewhere behind his lustful gaze, Jungkook is aching too.

“Baby…” he says back, and then he returns to press figure-eight on your clit, though this time he pushes a finger inside of you.

It curls to hit the right spot inside of you, and he slowly rubs against it, before he decides better and starts to finger you, slowly. Digit moving in and out, keeping that right arch to make you see stars in no time.

When he adds a second finger, you tug on his hair, hard. Mostly by reflex, but when he meets your gaze as you look down at him, you pull harder. His fingers remain deep inside of you as he meets your lips for a heated kiss that tastes like you, and your hand blindly aims for his dick.

He’s rock hard, as he always is when you fuck for the first time after he’s been away. You sigh in satisfaction, thumb collecting precum on his tip that you spread on his dick. Instinctively, he bucks his hips as you start jerking him off, with the tight grip you know he likes, and you make sure to flick your wrist when you go back up.

He grunts against your lips, and his fingers start to move inside of you again. You don’t know when they stopped, but you know that he’s grown impatient now, and he’s unforgiving. When he pushes his thumb against your clit so that he can rub it at the same time, you moan unashamedly loud, another sound that he swallows like a man starved while his lips move against yours.

You time your ministration on his dick to those of his fingers on you, and soon enough a knot forms at the pit of your stomach. It grows impossibly tight impossibly quickly, and when Jungkook moans in your mouth you lose it, the knot uncoiling as your orgasm finds you.

He fucks you with his fingers through the high, through every wave of your orgasm, your legs shaking as he keeps going until you squirt.

“Good girl,” he praises as you cry out his name, your grip on his dick growing tighter. It has to hurt, but obviously Jungkook likes pain, so he only bucks his hips, seeking for friction.

It brings you back to the present, to this bed, and you return to jerking him off as his fingers leave you empty. He brings them to your mouth, makes you lick them clean until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He kisses you, languidly, and your tongue dance with his as he grunts from a particularly skilled flick of your wrist.

“I want to suck you,” you say in between kisses, and he doesn’t let you do it for a time.

He’s too focused on your mouth, and you reckon you want him to keep going at it. To trap you in this moment with him, so that it may never end.

So that you may never have to break up with him.

“Can I fuck you first?” he asks, bucking his hips once more. “I want to feel your tight pussy swallowing my cock.”

“I want to suck you,” you insist as he’s sucking a new hickey on your neck.

He pulls away, meets your gaze with a lazy smile on his lips. “Well then of course.”

In another world his comment would have made you laugh, but the only thing it does is make you push him until he’s lying on his back and you’re kneeling next to him.

You look down at his dick. It’s just as pretty as you’ve always thought it was, with the brownish base to the tip that’s currently flushed red with arousal. Precum makes it glisten in the dim light from the world outside, and you let a blob of spit fall on it to add some lubrication to your jerking off.

When you feel ready, you bend down to lick a stripe along his dick, from base to top, following the thick vein. He groans, and he puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he can watch as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

The taste of his salty precum fills your mouth, and you hum in contentment. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking hard once before teasing his frenulum with your tongue. Your free hand moves between his legs, and you grab his balls, massaging them gently.

They’re already tight, and you know he’ll come if you suck him for too long. You still can’t resist, and you take him as far as you can, swallowing around him so he can feel your throat constricting on him. It makes him moan out your name, which in turns makes you moan against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out.

You move up until almost just his tip is in your mouth, before going all the way in once more. And then you start bobbing you head up and down in a quicker fashion as you drool on your chin, your spit coating his dick.

You squeeze his balls once, not daring to do it for longer than a few seconds. You don’t want him to come, so you let go soon after, hand moving to his thigh. You find the hard knot of his scar, and you lightly trace it with your fingers, almost instinctively.

Another part of him that you want to commit to memory. His scars – they made him into the person that was right for you. You hate that distance undid it, wish you could turn back time but alas it’s impossible.

So you focus on his dick, moving your hand away from the scars. He doesn’t let you suck him for a lot longer. Soon, he pulls you away by the hair, bringing you to his mouth instead. You kiss him as you climb on top of him, and right as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, you grab his dick to align it with your entrance.

Even though he fingered you before, he still stretches you as you sink on him, and you let out a broken moan as you dig your nails in his shoulder, where your other hand has been holding you up since you climbed on him.

You sink down until he’s fully imbedded inside of you, and then you rest your hands flatly on his chest, feeling the muscles of his pecs under your palms. You meet his gaze, hating how he’s looking at you carefully. For a moment, you both don’t move, taking the other in, and you’re struck with the realization that maybe he does know. Because his eyes are infinitely sad, infinitely pained, but when he blinks you think you might have imagined it.

You’re going crazy. You used to be able to read him like the back of your hand, but it seems the pain in your heart is keeping you from doing so, from picking up the book where you left off. Perhaps because you’ve gone blind, or maybe you forgot how to read altogether.

Jungkook feels like a stranger.

“Baby,” he lets out.

“Jungkook…”

He wets his lips, and then brings you closer. Forces you to bend down until he’s wrapped his arms around your waist. He starts moving, incredibly slow, and says, “I just want you close.”

It hurts too bad, and you hide your face in his neck. He tightens his grip around you, and after that all that can be heard in the room is your heavy breathing, mingling with the sound of the TV.

He feels healing, as much as he’s breaking you. Or you’re breaking yourself, you don’t know anymore. You wish to stop time, to interrupt the chronology of it, until all that’s left is this moment in time.

You know you can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t stop moving for a long time, as you let out breathy sounds against his neck. He’s not grunting anymore – you don’t think you or he are enjoying this, right now.

“I really want to suck your dick,” you murmur against his neck, lips tickling him.

“You’re not into this.”

Of course he’d sense it. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slips out of you, and you refuse to move for a little eternity.

“I’m okay,” you lie.

“Stop saying that you are,” Jungkook answers, and his voice has taken a cold tone. Maybe because he’s freezing – you don’t think he’d purposefully speak to you like that. “I know you aren’t.”

“Kook…”

He says your name, a loving plea that could have changed the ending, if the months hadn’t passed.

“We need to talk,” you breathe against his neck.

You think you hear his heart breaking. Like a car wreck: it’s so loud you don’t think you’ll make it out of the crash. Only, he did get out of it once – you can only hope he’ll get out again.

He runs his hand on your back, loses it in your hair. He’s gentle, infinitely so, tracing your body to remember you by when you’re gone. At least that’s what you think it is.

“Yeah?” he lets out with a small, quivering voice.

A tear spills from your eye, falling onto the soft skin of his neck.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He holds you tighter, turning his face so that he can press a kiss to the side of your head. It’s a desperate move – it holds the weight of the universe.

“I…”

He never finishes the sentence. His words are lost to him, and you steel yourself for the glimpse you’ll give him. And when you do, you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I can’t do the distance anymore,” you tell him.

He nods once. “I’m staying until November.”

He blurs behind your tears, and they roll down your cheeks freely. You don’t try to dry them, and neither does he.

“But then you’ll go again.”

He doesn’t need to say anything to that, because you both know it to be the truth. His reply is physical: his arms let go of you, falling on the bed on each side of him.

You move to sit next to him, instinctively grabbing a blanket to hide yourself. Jungkook shuts his eyes before pressing the heel of his palms against his eyelids. As if that’ll stop him from crying, from shattering into thousands of little shards that will go by the wind.

The end has come. It’s upon you, it’s right this instant in time. You think you’ll forever hate this moment – will you ever recover?

“It’s just better for both of us,” you say, your voice breaking into a sob on the last words. You wish you could be stronger, but you break too hard for him. “It’s been so hard and… we both don’t try anymore.”

“I’m staying until November,” he repeats. He sounds choked, and when he pushes himself up, allowing you a glimpse of his face again, you see that he too is crying. “Please.”

“Kook…”

“No but…” he stops, laughs a laugh that turns into a sob. “I tried.”

“You didn’t.”

Maybe he did. Maybe to him he did, but it wasn’t what you needed.

“You don’t get to tell me I didn’t,” he says and he scoffs, pain laced with his next words. “When I tried, you were the one that was unavailable.”

Because you were already done then, you realize. It’s a startling realization, and you wish it wasn’t real. But it is, as real as the rain lashing at the window, as the agony in Jungkook’s gaze.

His doe eyes are pained, tormented, and you wish you could ease it. Comfort him, but you’re the source of the torture now.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to say.

He looks at you for a time, holds your crying eyes, and then he loses it, hiding his face in his hands as sobs rock through him. You’re shaking like a leaf where you’re sitting, and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“We can make it work,” he tries.

You’re shaking your head no, sobs racking through you too, when he glances at you. “We can’t. We tried, Kook. We tried and it didn’t work.”

“It’s the distance,” he says. He dries his cheeks, sniffles hard. “What if I drop the job?”

“It’s your dream,” you remind him. “Don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit about this dream if it means losing you,” he insists.

Your expression is apologetic, and suddenly your eyes clear up. Too much – the clarity in your mind feels dizzying.

“It’s too late.”

The words fall like a meteorite – you think they hit harder than the one that killed the dinosaurs, millions of years ago. They hit him so hard you think they disperse the pieces of his heart to the four corners of the Earth.

You want to be selfish, you want to keep a piece of him for yourself, to remember him by, but you let him go. You have to, if you want to make it out alive.

“Come on,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much…”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I know.”

There’s finality in your voice, and he hears it just as well as you do. You think he’ll fight more – Jungkook never backs down from a challenge – but to your surprise he goes incredibly still.

“Nothing I can do or say will make you stay, huh?”

You shut your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He goes cold then – like hell. Empty, freezing over, and he steps out of bed to grab some clothes in his luggage that he’s yet to unpack. You watch him, watch the last tears on his cheeks falling as he bends down. No new ones join them – he’s retracted somewhere inside of himself, probably in an attempt to protect himself. You’re not sure he’s aware of the coping mechanism, but you can recognize it.

He was in that same place when you met him again the year after his accident, before you started dating. Once, he told you that you were the one to rescue him from it.

Who will rescue him now?

You start crying again, and you force yourself to get out of bed. To grab some clothes as he’s zipping his luggage after getting dressed.

“Stop,” you tell him. “I already have plans to go stay with Bridget and Heather.”

He stops moving, and then slowly gets up. He glances at the door of the bedroom. Bam is looking through the small gap, and he gently pushes on the door to open it wider.

“What about the dog?” Jungkook asks, sounding so detached you can barely recognize him.

It breaks you even more. You’re selfish – you wish he’d fight more. You wish he’d convince you to stay, but now he looks like he doesn’t even care anymore.

You probably deserve it.

“You can keep him,” you say, as you struggle to put your clothes on, hands trembling so much it makes you lose your fine motricity. “When you-“ A sob breaks the sentence. “When you leave again I can take him in.”

Jungkook nods, and then he glances towards the television. The movie is still playing, yet it’s nearing the end now.

Everything comes to an end.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses loudly, and he moves to the bed, grabbing the remote so he can turn the TV off. He then looks at the bed. “You’re leaving with those?”

“Jungkook…”

“You’re fucking leaving with them?”

He’s motioning to Totoro and Appa, and you cry some more as you nod. “Okay. Yes. I’ll come back later for the rest.”

“Okay.”

There’s an immense silence then, as you finish putting your clothes on. As you go to the closet, where you’ve already packed a duffel bag with stuff for a week. Jungkook scoffs when he sees it, and it almost makes your legs give out under you.

“You weren’t going to give me a chance, were you?” he asks bitterly, reproachfully.

“My decision was made,” you answer with a small voice. “I just… it’s too hard.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You know Jungkook often hurts others when he himself is in pain. It’s something he said he didn’t want to do anymore, a side of him he told you he hates. You’re not surprised to see it come to the surface right now – you don’t think he’s ever gotten his heart broken like this before.

So you’re not surprised when he adds, “We should have broken up when we fought on the phone. Because why was I so fucking stupid to think you still loved me?”

Your heart breaks. It’s been breaking, but now it’s different. Burning, throbbing pain takes over the beating organ, and you struggle to breathe. The air is boiling in your lungs, and it’s so fierce you feel it in every inch of your body.

“I do,” you tell him. “It’s not because I don’t love you…”

He laughs. He bursts out laughing, and it’s a little crazed, a little scary. “Right. Yeah. Tell that to yourself.”

In that instant, you remember when you’d told him you loved him for the first time. At his art exhibit, choked on emotions you thought you’d always know. You don’t know them anymore, but he’s wrong.

You’ll always love him.

“Kook…”

“Will you fucking stop calling me that?” he asks, and he finally meets your gaze again.

“Sorry…”

He sighs loudly, tongue poking at his cheek. “Are you leaving now?”

It’s weird – the way he says it reminds you of your mother when she kicked you out years ago. It reminds you of the early days with Jungkook and you don’t think you can move. You’re stuck in the spot where you’re standing, watching him as he watches you.

When his gaze breaks and he lets out, “Please”, you finally start moving.

First to the bed, to grab Appa and Totoro, and then towards the door.

You push the door open, and Bam wags his tail as you walk out. You’re crying again – you’re not sure you ever stopped – but the sight of the dog makes everything worse. Because it’s not only Jungkook you’re losing, it’s Bam too.

It’s your life. You’re losing everything that matters to you, in an attempt to save yourself. In an attempt to find something better for yourself, something that won’t ache for months at a time like being with Jungkook now does.

“Hey, Bamie,” you say, and you hold the plush toys away as he tries to bite into Appa’s paw. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You bend, and you let the dog lap at your cheek, as if he can dry your tears. When he stops to look at you curiously, head tilted to the side, you press a kiss to the top of his head. You can’t move for a time and, as if sensing it, Bam remains entirely still too.

He only moves when you stretch, and it’s to press his body against your legs, as if trying to stop you from leaving. Tears cascade down your face, and you tell him you’re sorry, too. You repeat that you’ll see him soon again, hoping that it’ll help, and then you’re walking around him. Walking towards the door, walking towards the crying world outside.

Jungkook follows behind, silent as ever, hands lost in the pockets of his sweatpants, eyes lost in the void. You put down your stuff by the door, put on a light coat and grab your keys. You store them in your coat pocket, and then head to the door, to put on your shoes.

Every step feels like lead, like death, and you just keep crying. It only stops when you meet Jungkook’s gaze, when you’re ready to leave.

Or as ready as you’ll ever be.

“So that’s it?” he asks.

“That’s it,” you agree, and you wish you didn’t. Wish those weren’t the words you said.

He nods once, looking like he’s burdened with a great fatigue. “Alright.”

You want to scream at him to say more, but he doesn’t. Only stays silent as he looks at you, doe eyes so big. His waterline is wet again, and he’s got red splotches all over his face. He’s fighting the tears this time around and you wish you’d give him a reprieve, wish you’d be able to leave but, once again, you’re rooted in your spot.

Maybe because you still have more to say.

“Thank you for…” You pause, take a deep, shaking breath in. “Thank you for the years. I had a lot of fun with you.”

“Please go.”

You nod once, and then you turn around. It occurs to you that your hands are full, and you look at the doorknob as if it’s foreign. Jungkook must have noticed, because he steps forward, his hand reaching for it.

He stills halfway there, with his arm right next to you. And then you hear him choke on a sob, and you drop what you’re holding to face him, to pull him into a hug.

You don’t know how long you cry, holding onto each other like this. Because the moment you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist, Jungkook wrapped his around your shoulders, and he hid his face in your hair.

You cry and cry, together. The last thing you’ll ever do together, you reckon. You wish it wasn’t the case, wish the ending was still at the end a very long road, but it’s come short tonight and it’s too late to stop now.

You break against him, holding him. He’s shaking in your arms, as much as you’re shaking in his. Both of you trembling leaves in the wake of your end. And then you fall to your demise, carried away by the wind.

You don’t know when you let go of him. Only come to your senses when you’re in bed, sometime between dusk and dawn, away from him.

You’re never going to hold him again.

Teaser | Next

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Pain. I'm crying again from rereading one last time before posting. Please don't hate me oop- let me know what you think of the fic! Did we like it, even though it hurts? All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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#when the end comes #when the end comes ch 1 #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook fic #btswritersclub #when the end comes series #the forgotten spaces sequel

[birdkatze]

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 4

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = Gaz/reader

Words = 1k

[Chapter 3] --- [Chapter 5]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

“Guys…We can’t leave them like that..” Gaz frowned, looking in between the three alphas in frustration.

“Gaz, they will be fine” Price asserted, pulling into their den’s driveway, “We can’t just…We have to give them time to accept.”

“Price, you don’t understand!” frowning Gaz pleaded with Price and the other three alphas, “Duck is an omega- one that hasn’t ever had pack before, fuck they haven’t shifted before today! We need to go back..”

“I said no.” Price took off his boots and clothes- as customary in the den.

Looking at the other two Gaz pleaded at them hopelessly “Alphas please..” “Sorry mate, I’m sure Duck’ll be fine” Ghost moved Gaz’s hat and kissed his forehead.

“What Price says goes.” Soap asserted frowning, taking off his clothes and climbing into the nest looking just as frustrated and upset. It was clear he was not happy with Price’s decision.

Gaz whimpered and looked at them hopelessly, frowning he stayed in the mudroom- still fully dressed. Crossing his arms he attempted to guilt his alphas into helping

“Price! You don’t get it as the pack omega you need to listen to me! At least one of us needs to be with Duck right now. It’s-” Gaz tried to explain before Price cut him off

“Gaz…” Price grumbled in warning, using his alpha voice “Come’on we’ll check on them tomorrow.”

Climbing into the nest, Price pulled Soap on top of him. Which was odd but not unusual.Gaz was always to one who Price did that with…Gaz frowned before giving in and getting undressed for the nest, curling up against Ghost who wrapped an arm around him- pulling him close.

Gaz didn’t get a lick of sleep, anxious the entire night. Eventually he couldn’t help it and carefully extracted himself from the nest to get a drink of water. A wave of nausea overtook Gaz as he thought about you, he had been lucky all things considered. Price and Ghost had taken him in and refused to let him be alone. They had reassured him and held him tightly as he got used to being in a pack that wasn’t unstable and cruel.

Gaz knew how it felt as an omega to meet a pack for the first time and for them to just leave…it was a painful feeling. Gaz’s second pack had done that to him, they had met with him and given him scraps, then they left. Even thinking about it now is painful, his omega felt rejected and hurt beyond comparison.   

His first and second pack were cruel, the scars he bore still hurt during the winter from his mistreatment. Gaz couldn’t even stomach the thought of pups now due to the horror of what they had done to him, Gaz felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

Soap sat down next to Gaz on the couch leaning against his shoulder, startling Gaz and pulling from his memories.

“You feel it too?” Kissing Gaz’s shoulder, Soap questions.

“We have to go back…We can’t leave an omega like that…” 

“I agree..”

Both men quietly left, making sure to leave a note. Quickly shifting into their wolf form and opting to run the few miles between the den and your house. The run was an easy one and rather beautiful. The moon light dappled through the trees.

As the pair got closer to the house they could smell the scent you were producing. It gutted both of them. It was the smell of pain, sadness, rejection, and agony. Climbing over your short fence Gaz opens the sliding glass door without having any issue which sets off alarm bells for the pair even more.

The scent that permeated in the house was one of sickness. Crying Gaz climbed up the stairs and into your room knocking on your bedroom door before entering.

“Duck?” walking over to you Gaz looked horrified at the state you were in.

You were curled up in a ball in the bathroom sobbing, making pained noises. 

Running to your side Gaz and Soap pull you up off the tile and into your bed. Soap runs out to get you water and a simple carb. Gaz pulled you on top of him and kissed your cheek.

“It’s okay Duck, me and Soap are here, you aren’t a bad omega sweetheart.” Gaz ran his fingers through your hair and across your back, holding you close. 

Soap came back up with a bag of chips he had found in your backpack and water.

Gaz carefully sat you up in the bed and Soap sat next to you. Gaz let Soap feed and water you, it would be better if there was an alpha doing it for you. Gaz simply held your hand gently rubbing circles with his thumb.

You started to come back into awareness as Soap and Gaz babied you. You let off a small whimper after you finish and curl up against them more as Gaz and Soap pull you into laying down.

Soap licked your jaw and kissed you the crown of your head, hugging and snuggling against you. Gaz does the same snuggling and holding you tightly, gently whispering sweet sentences, rubbing small circles into your hip.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, you felt more like a person again. 

Smiling softly you snuggled closer to Gaz and Soap, feeling much happier. You kiss the crown of Gaz’s head and Soap's shoulder. Feeling relieved the pair chatted your ear off, full of soft adoration and kind words.

Blushing, hiding your face against your pillow as the two praise you, apologizing for leaving you all alone.

“Duckkkkk..” nuzzling you, Soap smiled “Don’t hide from us..” he teasingly licked the shell of your ear. Causing you to shiver and squirm, a surprising flash of arousal passed over you.

“Stopppp” whining you keep your face in your pillow, feeling embarrassed and horny.

“It’s okay Duck, Soap let’em sleep” mumbling Gaz pulled the blanket over the three of you.

Relenting Soap snuggled up against you and fell asleep very quickly. You also were dead asleep and so was Gaz in a matter of seconds.

You had never felt so safe and warm.

#werewolves #call of duty #mw2 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #angst #a/b/o dynamics

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps. zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | multichapter | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [ ao3 ]

Chapters: [2 ] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The Calamity is gone. The remaining leaders of Hyrule gather for a Summit to determine the future of the kingdom, starting with how to repurpose all the Sheikah Technology. Zelda is among them, and while everyone still calls her Princess, she’s not sure she wants to lay claim to an old throne. What she really wants is to move on. She wants to continue her research, to prove her worth beyond her bloodline, and to spend as much time with Link as she can…which sounds an awful lot like what she wanted a hundred years ago…

[ A story set between BotW and TotK, containing many spoilers for TotK as it was born from my need to explain many of the changes we see. A tremendous thank you to @zeldaelmo who volunteered to beta read this before she knew what she was getting herself into. I am immensely thankful for your eagle eye and your patience. ]

chapter 1

for the prompt “yearning”

Zelda doesn’t have a bed. 

She thinks about this lying on the spare one in Purah’s study. She’s staying with Purah for the Hyrule Restoration Summit, which is what they are calling the first official gathering of Hyrule leaders since the fall of the Calamity, and the more she thinks about it, technically speaking, it's a cot.

It’s not unlike the one she uses when they are in Kakariko, albeit a few inches shorter, like everything else customized for a child in Purah’s lab. Zelda has to lay at an angle to fit and even so, her feet dangle over the edge when she straightens her legs. Symin offered her his bed, as Paya had in Kakariko, and like there, Zelda declined. 

When she traveled a century ago, families were forced to give up their entire homes to host her. Royal quarters were permanently built in Kakariko, Rito Village, Gerudo Town, and Zora’s Domain. Due to the hostile environment surrounding Goron City, the Gorons agreed to travel to Akkala Citadel whenever there was official business with the Royal family which, in addition to a military fortress for the Hyrulian armed forces, acted as a second residence for her family. Another bed.

But that was all before. Akkala Citadel is in ruins, all the Royal quarters have since been repurposed by their respective domains, and Zelda will never ask anything more of the people of Hyrule so long as she draws breath.

Still, selfishly, and in the safety of her own thoughts, she yearns for the comfort of a real bed. Nothing extravagant, no need for anyone in Hyrule to forfeit their comforts on her behalf. Just somewhere she can readily count on for rest when sleep decides to visit. 

That’s what Link says: a visit of sleep. 

They are alike in this way. Their internal clocks recalibrated in the prolonged absence of waking, such that their bodies don’t readily cue the need for sleep. In the beginning, it took her weeks just to register the sensation of fatigue again. She stayed awake for two full days after the final confrontation on Hyrule Field before collapsing abruptly during the climb up to Kakariko’s western entrance. Link had to carry her the rest of the way. She slept for ninety-two hours straight. 

When Zelda finally awoke, someone was smoothing her hair out of her face. Another sensory experience she needed to register again: touch. Not toxic oil on her skin, claws of shadow raking down her spine, or darkness pulling so tight it feels like it might become one with her. Actual human touch. 

She hoped it might be Link in a delayed return of her affections for a heartbeat, but when she opened her eyes, it was an old Sheikah woman at her bedside. Zelda’s expression must have soured or pulled with confusion, because the woman began to laugh. Laughter. Warm and inviting and familiar. The sound vibrated inside Zelda like a bell. She gasped, set her hands on either side of the women’s face and felt a sudden and painful ache that has accompanied every subsequent realization of her losses. 

She will never age like she was meant to. With the people of her time, with the people she loved.

And after a century in stasis, she is on the verge of being completely left behind.

“Now, it’s not that bad, is it?” Impa teased.  

Zelda didn’t answer. She wept.

It has gotten a little better in the months since she returned to her physical form. She’s started to suspect Link is “visited’ by sleep out of preference more than necessity. But really, he slept for a hundred years, so she can’t blame him for rejecting a more traditional sleep cycle. She, on the other hand, was frozen. Not sleeping, not waking, just there—like gravity itself. Holding everything and everyone in place, unnoticeable until she wasn’t, when the Calamity would slip free of her grasp, swirl about the castle, and remind Hyrule of the horrors that awaited them if she failed again. 

Zelda smudges a tear against the side of her face and turns onto her back. Regardless, she can’t help but feel like having a bed, a ceiling overhead she recognizes, and the freedom to get up and roam down to a kitchen for a slice of fruitcake when the night is still young, that she might be visited by rest more willingly when she wants it. Needs it.

Like tonight. 

“So, what you're really talking about is wanting a home,” Zelda tells herself, a habit formed in the decades of solitude. Sometimes, in periods of dormancy or resignation, the Calamity would growl back at her in a tone that was almost human. But for the most part, she started talking to herself in and out of days and throughout the years until her sense of time too was a thing Hylia claimed in penance for her failures. 

“That’s not accurate,” she chides herself and flips onto her stomach. Blaming the Goddess is a bad habit she is trying to change. When she finally unlocked her Powers, suspended in divinity, the closest to holy she’s ever been, the Goddess didn’t even answer her then. It was just the sound of her own voice, echoing back at her from inside the Calamity. 

A bed. Something simple and fixed, like the one Link has in his house right on the outskirts of the village. Zelda’s caught glimpses of it when they’ve stopped there to replenish supplies; nestled against the wall on the second floor, beneath the only window so natural light kisses him awake when he finally decides to rest. He has a small dresser for linens and travel spoils, and a bedside table that is home to a painted vase from Rito Village he often fills with fresh flowers. 

She wonders which flowers are watching over him right now. Has sleep visited him? Or is he rolling about his sheets, worrying about the Summit, trying to break old habits, or craving something warm from the cooking pot down the stairs?

If he is awake, it is likely the latter. He would be able to sleep on a night like this. The air is cool. Everyone at the Summit knows him personally; is indebted to him in some way, although he carries no ledger. He is known. Respected. Tomorrow is just another day. Sleep will visit.

Zelda’s role in all of this is yet to be defined. While news of Calamity Ganon’s defeat spread quickly, there was no whisper of the lost Princess’ return at first. Rumors focused on the disappearance of the shadow around Hyrule Castle and then later, turned into formal requests for Link’s presence in the aid of investigating the Divine Beasts sudden malfunctioning. No one asked about her.

And it was nice. 

For a brief moment, she fantasized about cutting her hair, burning her dress, and letting Zelda disappear with the embers into history. Maybe she would accompany Link as a traveling scholar under another name? Or join the Sheikah and train with the weapons she was forbidden to touch a hundred years ago?

Impa, however, had other plans. She suggested Zelda travel with Link to investigate Vah Ruta so the Zora could verify her identity. They found her old travel clothes, Link presented her with a descendant of her horse, Storm, and the dreams of obscurity ceased. The Zora instantly recognized her, adding credibility to the announcement of her return and soon, her identity grew heavy with an unspoken claim to a throne that needed rebuilding.

No one has officially said anything, but there is a generous amount of speculation surrounding tomorrow and the opportunity to reestablish a centralized and unifying governing body. If they asked it of her, she would have no choice but to accept, right? It is the duty tied to this life. This title.  

Maybe she could convince them of her usefulness as a scholar? She no longer has any restrictions on time spent researching. She could help the Sheikah redesign their technology. Perhaps to aid in the great restoration…if she could just get the Divine Beasts up and running again, they would prove so useful in the rebuilding! 

This part of her, shunned by her family and now forgotten with them, could be the key to proving her worth beyond a head to carry the crown. She will show them. She has to.  They don’t seem to know what else to do with her, otherwise. Rarely does anyone use her name, even after they realized who she is.

They all call her ‘Princess’.  

Except for Link. 

Zelda turns onto her side and inspects the empty sliver of cot beside her. She runs her hand across the weaving and thinks about how she used to be able to visit Link. When the Calamity was dormant and her Power was still new and untaxed, she would separate a part of herself from Hyrule Castle and ride the wind to the Great Plateau. She watched the seasons turn by Link’s side in the shrine until the Calamity would wake and pull her back into herself like a rubber band. This went on for decades. 

When he finally woke up and the shrine’s toll for restoring his life was realized, Zelda felt her strength begin to waver. She is not aware of a word that accurately describes the feeling of being forgotten by the person you tethered your heart to; to have it remain connected to that person and witness it drift behind them, becoming more of a dark cloud than guiding light.

Her love for him burned for a hundred years. Somehow, in the depths of a living, breathing, rageful hell, it grew. It grounded her within the swirl of eternal darkness, the unyielding burn of malice, the mourning of time. As his memories of their kingdom, their comrades, and of her, returned to him, his reckoning of it all remained indistinguishable. 

The last six months between them were uncomfortable. He never outwardly answered her question on the field. He extended his hand and led her away from the castle. He was gentle yet reserved, closer than the three paces he once stood as her appointed knight and still somehow further than when he sunk into the glowing waters of the shrine and she stepped into the center of the darkest night.  Did his love die with him on the field that day? Was it left in the spot where he bled out, where flowers now grow? Has one unknowingly ever made it back to his bedside table? Could he recognize it now? 

Did he want to? 

She glances over her shoulder quickly, half expecting him to be there like he always was all those years ago, appearing out of thin air, as a part of her as her own shadow. 

But there is no one else in the room. Her shadow is empty. Her window shut. 

Zelda turns her attention back to the empty spot beside her and begins to imagine the weight of his arms around her. The sound of his sleep. His breath on her face. The cot is small, like his bed, but in the way she imagines they might fit together, it would be enough for sleep to find her. Even on a night like this. 

But there is no one else in the room. 

Just her and a bed, that's not even a bed, that doesn’t belong to her. 

—

Sleep doesn’t visit her. 

Zelda eventually gives up and pours her energy into drafting up a proposal on how to repurpose the Sheikah Technology. The Divine Beasts will be a tremendous asset. Vah Ruta can create new water reservoirs. Vah Medoh can mass transport supplies and people across Hyrule. Vah Rudania and Vah Naboris will be essential for maneuvering the harsher terrains of each region. 

She is confident she and Robbie could reprogram the guardians and assign them different purposes. She will recommend they remove all of the mechanics for combat, save for a select few machines that will be assigned to aid in monster defense.

Their greatest challenge will be finding a new power source. When Zelda obliterated Calamity Ganon from the realm, her Light purified every non-living thing it held influence over; every pool of Malice evaporated instantly and every guardian -earthbound, skyward or decayed- from the North Akkala Beach to Daval’s Peak stopped working. Robbie has yet to find a working ancient core and hypothesizes Zelda “nuked the network”. Whatever that means. 

The Sheikah Towers and shrines remain functional, so once they isolate the remaining source of power, she is confident Robbie and Purah will be able to design and power up new cores. 

 If only she had access to the old blueprints in her study…

On her way down to the main floor, she scribbles a note about returning to the castle upon acceptance of the proposal. She folds the pages carefully and tucks them into the small leather satchel Link gave her. Purah assumes ownership of the Sheikah Slate whenever they come to Hateno, so Link presented her with a satchel enchanted by the koroks so she can carry multiple items outside of the Slate on her at all times. Link has an identical one. 

He jokingly calls it an ‘adventure pouch’.  

Purah, Symin and a few others are already buzzing about the lab. Purah has the Sheikah Slate in the Guidance Stone, a tear drop of crystal blue bouncing between the stone and the Slate every few seconds. Zelda always thought it was interesting that information takes the shape of a teardrop. Was it intentional by the Sheikah who created the technology all those years ago? Or is it just the natural form of data? Of memory? 

There is so much for them to learn.

“Good morning, Princess!” Purah says without looking up from her work. Zelda decided earlier this morning, just as the sun started peeking through her window, not to fight the title of Princess anymore. She would help them rebuild the kingdom, sit on a new throne if they asked it of her, but she would have a hand defining the responsibilities of the title. 

“Good morning,” Zelda answers. 

Purah rapidly flaps her hand in Zelda’s direction. Zelda moves into the spot beside Purah, who is balanced on her knees on a pillow in order to sit level with the table. There are sketches of the Sheikah Slate, looking very much like a six year old drew them, along with an unflattering portrait of Symin, and handwriting Zelda won’t even attempt to decipher. 

“I think I can duplicate the Slate,” Purah says, snapping her fingers.

Zelda grins. She imagines each region having their own Slate. The possibilities for research, for communication. How quickly Hyrule could share information…the problems they could solve! 

Link pushes open the door to the lab. Zelda imagines how his shoulders might relax the more Hyrule becomes connected. His burden would finally be eased...then maybe…

“Good morning!” She practically bursts. 

Link waves and crosses the room to the cooking pot. Symin starts explaining what he is cooking and Link casually dumps the entire contents into the fire. Symin sighs in relief and pulls out a notebook. Link produces the ingredients one by one from his pouch, displaying each carefully so Symin can copy the recipe. A dozen eggs, Hylian tomatoes, assorted mushrooms, a handful of greens, and a tiny bottle of Goron spice. Zelda’s mouth waters before he even starts cooking. 

She watches Link demonstrate how to slice the tomatoes before setting Symin to work, involving Symin in the salvaging of the meal and in doing so, lessening the blow of his failure. It is a change in Link’s behavior she has loved witnessing: he is eager to share his knowledge after awakening from the shrine; to spread it generously with everyone who asks for his help. In this way, he is teaching Hyrule how to need him less in the long run, a step forfeited a century ago by the pressure he felt and the structure of the role assigned to him. 

Hero, knight, swordsman; whatever title he is to carry moving forward, she will protect his freedom to define it as well. 

They eat quickly and head down the hill toward the village together. Hateno is the chosen location for the Summit because it has the largest settlement of Hylians, who, as a whole, have been without formal leadership for over a century. Central Hyrule was initially considered given the proximity for all participants, but the general consensus is six months of calm is not enough time for anyone to meet comfortably in the shadow of the castle. 

“I heard this is the first time King Dorephan has left his domain in two hundred years,” Purah whispers to Zelda as they turn the corner down the split in the road to Hateno Pasture. A farmer named Dantz offered up his land, which borders Lake Sumac, to host. The water provides an added measure of comfort for the Zora. Zelda spots King Dorephan sitting close to the shore with several elder Zora and Prince Sidon.

There are a handful of Hylians mingling with leading members of the Sheikah, Rito, Gorons, and Gerudo. 

Purah and Symin split off to join Impa, who is sitting in the shade of a nearby tree with Paya. Their movement pulls the attention of the crowd in Zelda’s direction. She watches recognition ripple across the group. The conversations soften and then die off completely at the mere sight of her. Just like old times. 

Zelda flexes her fingers. 

Suddenly, there is a hand in hers. She jumps, glancing to her side where only Link stands. He’s looking right at her, the same way everyone else is, but she doesn’t feel the weight of the crown on her shoulders in his gaze. He squeezes her hand and nods her forward.  

“Right. Okay, then,” Zelda whispers.

Link leads her around the crowd so she can make introductions before the Summit starts. She is already known to the Sheikah, who are represented by Impa, Robbie, Purah, Symin, Paya, and Cado, and the Zora. Prince Sidon embraces her and compliments Link relentlessly. 

It is Zelda’s first time meeting the Goron Boss, Bludo, who introduces Zelda to a young Goron named Yubono and emphasizes he is a descendant of Daruk, as well as the Rito Chief, Kaneli. He is joined by a Rito warrier named Teba, and his son, Tulin, who begs Link to go shooting with him later that day. Link offers the fledgling a thumbs up and then gestures like, you want to go now, quick? 

Teba scolds them both. 

Her favorite introduction is the last one. Chief Makeela Riju, who insists Zelda calls her Riju, informs Zelda the Gerudo sun has missed her and personally invites her to come meet her pet sand seal. 

There certainly is a lot of personality, but Zelda feels certain the proposal will appease them all equally. The fact Link’s hand has remained in hers the entire time only boosts her confidence. Should she request the floor immediately or wait to see if there are region-specific needs she can weave into her proposal? She wants to emphasize the importance of each region’s involvement. 

“I think it’s time,” Impa makes her way out of the shade with the other Sheikah and takes the spot closest to Zelda. “that we begin again, don’t you all agree?”

“Well said. The Zora recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit,” King Dorphean says. 

“As do the Rito.” 

“And the Gerudo.”

“The Shei-kah!” Robbie throws his hand in the air and postures. 

“Gorons,” Bludo grunts.

“The Hylians have elected four representatives: I, Reede of Hateno Village, Elder Rozel of Lurelin Village, Hudson of Tarrey Town, and Traysi for the Stable Association. We recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit.”

“I officially call this meeting to order.” Impa claps her hands together and sits. She thanks everyone for traveling and for the village of Hateno for their hospitality. She summarizes the objective of the meeting as a gathering of the people of Hyrule in preliminary discussions about plans for a massive restoration following the purge of Calamity Ganon. She explains the forum will be open, but organized, in order for accurate minute keeping. Everyone motions in favor of detailed records. There are too many nameless ruins, too many stories and lessons lost to time scattered across Hyrule.

“Since there is no old business to attend to, I suppose it might be best to open the floor up to hear any initial recommendations for the restoration?”

Link raises his hand. 

He so rarely speaks out loud that the anticipation of it commands the attention of the entire Summit immediately. It might be her imagination, but Zelda swears the wind stops, too.  

“Let the record show the Hylian Champion and Hero of the Wild, Link, has the floor,”  Impa dictates and gestures for Link to continue. Zelda fishes her proposal out from her adventure pouch and folds it in her lap. Whatever he says, she’s assuming he will have some brilliant suggestions on how the former trade routes can be optimized or offer insight into the state of Central Hyrule for an exhibition, it will provide the perfect opportunity for her to follow. 

Link turns and smiles at her as he rises. It’s small. Relaxed. The kind of smile that’s only meant for the space between two people. Which means it is meant for her. 

She smiles back. 

With her plans for the Sheikah Technology, which will no doubt be strengthened by Link’s expertise, they can face this new Hyrule together. Self-chosen, this time, not forced by fate and the responsibilities of an old kingdom. 

Her heart flutters so rapidly at the thought, it takes her brain a moment to register what he actually says:

“I propose the first step in the restoration of Hyrule should be the destruction of all Sheikah Technology.”

#totk spoilers #totk #totk fanfiction #totk fanfic #totk zelink #botw zelink #botw #breath of the wild #loz #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz totk #zelinkweek2023 #zelinkcommunity #bahbahhhart #bahbahhhwrites #begin again

[lilith-little-world]

Hello! I absolutely love your stories and I was wondering if you are open for request? If so, can you do a lmk sun wukong x reader who is a nine tail fox? I imagine that the reader as already have all of their nine tails, so that would make the reader probably as old as wukong (because you know 1 tail = 100 years)

of course only if it is possible for you, it’s ok if you are not open for requests. Thank you and have a nice day! (Keep making amazing stories, you have a serious talent)

I am so sorry for not answering this sooner! I just got busy and then I got even more busier. Then recently I got super sick, but I guess it finally made me have enough time to write when I wasn't knocked out from the meds. But I am still taking requests, I'm just going to be quite slow. And I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted exactly or it lacks a certain luster to it, I'm running purely on meds right now and hoping I don't get worse in sickness.

Also chapter 3 may come out a little later since I got super sick.

9th Tail Fox Reader x lmk Sun Wukong|| Oneshot

The sight of the once-flourishing city made you sigh in disappointment. It was tiring to see such good potential go to waste, especially under your watch. 

You wander in your shop, restocking and organizing the place. You can’t attract desperate people if the shop doesn’t look presentable after all. The ancient and magical artifacts are displayed nicely, while some more medicinal and less magical artifacts are more at hand reach. It's a nice little shop you have been building up through the long centuries. It's good to know that no matter how badly life brings you down, a fox spirit like you always bounces right back up.

 A small bell rang when someone entered through the door. Someone different…

The smell was strong and powerful, nearly knocking you out of your human form. There's only one being that could get that reaction out of you. Someone you told to never show their face to you ever again.

You turn to the door to see a ginger simian. Who waltzes right in, as if he owned the place. Checking the old artifacts, searching for something.

“Nope, get out, I am NOT getting wrapped in your messes, again.” You immediately storm your way up to him. Dropping your human act and looks. 

“Hey, cool stuff you got here. I would love to check it but I'm quite busy and on a task.” He ignores your aggressive attitude and continues to look around.

“You- Didn't I say to get out? Leave! I don't want to be wrapped up in your messes again!” You kept blocking his path, shifting into a smokey fox form. However, he just dodges you and continues searching your shop.

“Tell me, do you have any, artifacts or info on someone named the Lady Bone Demon?” He sits on the counter and finally looks at you. Even though he tries to keep his lazy attitude, there was an edge to it. Ready to get serious if the moment calls for it. 

You stand there for a second contemplating, staring down at him. A few more moments pass, so you can see what his intentions were exactly. Then a chuckle escapes from your throat before turning into laughter.

“You really came all the way here for something like that? Who or what lead you here to begin with? You certainly came a long way home to visit little ol’ me, after what you done.” Your smokey fox form grew in size, as it bare its fangs and growled at him. He kept his lazy attitude.

“Crazy, huh? I heard from a friend that you know a map that leads to the Lady Bone Demon's old place. It would be nice if you hand it over and forget this ever happened-”

“And why should I help you? I'm running a business here, and I need payment. Now if I were you, I'll pay up, since I'm being so generous today.” You cut him off as your face got close to his. For once his lazy attitude broke for a second, he tensed up as he leans away. Nervous and possibly a bit flustered from the sudden close approximation.

“W-well, I don't have anything on me now but I can get you something.” He mutters, before clearing his throat. Trying to regain his composure back.

“News flash, I don't want anything that isn't my tail back, that you cut off! Either you give it back or no map.” Your form shifts into a more smaller one but just large enough to tower over him. Wrapping your many tails around him, your fox face next to his ear.

“Now tell me, what will it be, Sun Wukong?”

He was silent, for once he was quiet. 

“If I don't find out what she is planning soon, she’ll destroy everything. I know, you hate me after everything but we both know, if I didn't do it. The mortals in this city would have. You know how humans get, when misfortune comes, they need someone to blame. I am sorry that it had to be you, but you know I was only doing my job. So please, help me on this one.” He said while staring at the ground, his hands clutching the edge of the counter. 

All you can do is stare at the sight in silence. It wasn't every day, he apologizes. However, will you actually accept his apology?

You let out a tired sigh, your smokey from jumping off the counter. Searching the shelves before landing in front of him. Back in your human form, holding a map. You tossed it at him.

“As much as I would love to have my ninth tail back, but I must say, it isn't every day the mighty Sun Wukong comes in apologizing and begging for help. Well, I guess that's a good enough payment.”

“Heh, I get it, I don't apologize and should have sooner. Then again, there weren't any balloons or cards saying ‘Sorry for cutting off your ninth tail and making you stuck being a regular fox spirit.’ Apparently, that doesn't happen much to have it be on a card.” He laughs getting off the counter. Checking out the map as he slowly exits the shop.

“Hey if my great plan does work and the world hasn't ended, want to...catch up?”

You raise a brow at him.

“Oh? Wukong, you still aren't smooth, not even after all these years.”

“Hey, I spent a few centuries on an island by myself. I’m just rusty, and don't pretend you aren't too.” It was his turn to lean close. His face is close to yours as he smirks. You were stunned, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Oh please, unlike you I had a business to run. Now go, I won't be kind enough to say it again.”

“Then is that a yes? Can we catch up?” 

You close the door shut the moment you push him out. A soft chuckle left you as you turned back around to see the spot where Wukong was sitting. Though you notice something new there, it was a fluffy tail. The one you lost. A smile forms on your face.

“That cheeky monkey.”

#lmk reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk x reader #lmk monkey king #lmk x y/n #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lmk y/n #lmk sun wukong x reader #monkey king #monkey king x reader #lmk monkey king x reader #lmk wukong #wukong x reader #lmk oneshot #sun wukong x y/n #lego monkie kid

[milknhonies]

Spirit of Christmas Past

Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: You are greeted by the Spirit of Christmas and he decides to confront your past and punish your stubborn behaviour.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Dead Parents Description, Verbal Abuse, P in V sex, Rough Sex, Choking, Fingering, Humiliation, Heart Break, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Classism.

Word Count: 9k

A/N: Please to all readers, understand I don't have a beta editor and I can miss some mistakes because most my typing is on the bus to work when I get the time to write. ALSO this is my attempt at the naughty or nice challenge using: 18. “If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.” @the-slumberparty an event challenge created by @navybrat817 & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

12:59am 25th December 2023, New York City.

Among the nothingness of sleep, you could hear in the distance the sound of little bells jingling. You groaned, cracking your eyes open slowly. The sound was becoming more persistent and volumed.

It was freezing! The management still hadn’t fixed the heating system. You shivered and dug deeper into the duvet layers of your bed. You reached for your phone to check the time.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” you grumbled before rolling over onto your back. All memory of Marlene’s visit had disappeared from your mind.

You stared up at the plain ceiling. Your eyes grew hazy while your mind dissociated into thought. A single tear rolled from your eye.

God, you hated Christmas so much. You tried ignoring all the years. You tried pushing back the pain. You tried thinking about your jobs and tasks still incomplete. You tried not to think about how lonely you were, how unfulfilled you felt deep down. A mean tug at your chest made you hiss.

The ceilings image morphed into spots and shapes of different kinds...and when you chose to focus your eyes you could see the flecks of shadow clashing with light, wrapping and drawing out the shape of a person walking towards you.

You leant back and felt the mattress still under you. What you were seeing had to be part of some strange dream. You concluded you’d fallen back to sleep.

Gravity didn’t apply in this scenery.

The ceiling opened up, glowing in a soft calming light. The figure kept walking it’s way towards you. The closer he got the more you could acknowledge his face and good looks. He was lean and clean shaven, a depiction of youth. His hair was the colour of dark roasted chestnuts. He wore a white sweater.

‘Woah, what a weird dream...but look at how handsome he is.’

As if he heard your thoughts loud and clear he smiled with sparkling white teeth. Still unsure of reality, you lifted your hand up high to the ceiling. He did the same. He reached out with his palm out.

Your finger tips touched and you gasped at how warm and inviting he felt. Your mind ran filthy. You bit your bottom lip before lurching off the bed to the ceilings opening window into the handsome man’s arms. You swore you knew him. Something about that smile. You couldn’t place it though. Butterflies filled your insides.

His eyes were a blue that matched mountains. His cheeks sharp and strong but that smile was ageless.

You shyly bit the tip of your finger and giggled, “Kiss me.”

He cupped your face and accepted your advance without hesitation. His lips leant forward and met your starved mouth.

He was slow, sweet like vanilla. He pulled away and nibbled at your lips, sucking and licking with you. He was perfect. You were the first to pull away, panting and mewling. Your body rubbed up against his again. One of his arms cupped your back while his other hand cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

You felt his muscles, his hot body. His arms tightly held you, protecting you from the world and claiming you as his.

In your head this all made sense. Deep down you had met before, but where...God where had you met him? It ached not knowing fully.

Pulling away you moaned, “Fuck me. Please.”

You took his ginormous hands and pressed them against your breasts. Only a thin piece of satin separated your skin to his skin. You knew he’d be able to feel your nipples pebbling under his palms.

You kissed and nibbled along his jaw, panting, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” And that was true. You underwear had gone missing after you had played with your toy while imagining a rape play scene. You looked up at him with doe eyes fluttering. Your fingers pinched the hem of your night gown. He smirked, his fingers danced up your thighs, and by your surprise....he forced your hem down.

His eyes burned bright blue, almost glowing as the world around you both faded black. His head shook lightly at you, his wet lips parted, and he whispered into the open air, “Be not afraid Y/N as I shine the light on your past.”

Your head jerked back, your eyes squinted, ‘What the fuck?’

The question filled your mind and escaped through your lips, “Who are you?”

The handsome stranger rubbed his thumbs into your palms and said with heralding tones, “I am he who sees past, present and future tidings upon the grandeur of Christmas day. I am The Spirit of Christmas. But you…may call me Chris.”

“Chris?” You blinked and rebuffed in an fit of laughter. You shook your head, disbelieving and feeling that heat of anger rise.

“The Spirit of Christmas,” you cackled, “I really did have too much to drink to be having weird dreams like this. You kiss me and tell me that you’re some mystic being?”

His lips flicked up, bemused, “You asked for that kiss, I merely obliged such a sweet request.”

Humiliation bloomed in the pit of your belly. You felt hot in the face and grit your teeth.

His thumbs ran over the pulse of your wrists, his eyes were crowned in a false innocence.

Your eyes glowered in seconds, “Go fuck yourself, Chris,” you fumed.

You shoved his hands away and turned around trying to imagine something else, hoping the dream would change or you would wake up. You stumped short and jumped back as your path was blocked by a horrific sight. A naked woman in the darkness, chained and kneeling at your feet. Marlene.

The memories flood back into your mind. Her ethereal form floating your bed with her frozen heart and warning words. Except she was no ghost in this form. She was hauntingly thin like a skeleton, the loos skin of her belly and breasts hung down, her skin was discoloured and sickly, her cheeks hallowed and her hair thin, balding. Her teeth were black, gums rotten, her chest made this awful whistling noise as she struggled to breath. Her finger nails were red and cracked. She was chained to the floor. She looked up at you with sad bloodshot eyes, shaking her head at you.

“Go with him Y/N, he is your last chance…” she shivered as if a cold wind had prickled her flesh. Her head hung low.

His heavy hand laid down bearing weight onto your shoulder. You gasped and looked back at him with fear. His face appeared mournful as he acknowledged Marlenes decrypted state. Those blue eyes you were enchanted by moments ago sent an icy chill down your spine as his attention turned to you.

“Come,” he softly beckoned, “Let this soul pay it’s penance…”

You licked your dry lips and tried to keep your cool without revealing your fear. You nodded, not chancing your voice breaking in an exchange. His palm held back out to you. You glared at him. With defeat and the tiniest tremble in your fingers, you finally tucked your hand into his, feeling his warm fingers wrap around you, you had to admit, it felt nice. He squeezed it softly and walked, guiding you away from the living corpse of Marlene’s soul.

After some time of walking away until Marlenes image disappeared.

The shadows felt literally heavy, weigh you down in what felt like a fight against gravity. You recalled a time you trudged through the snow up to your waist. It felt like this, yet there was only silence.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, tugging you forward mercilessly.

You felt like you could have tripped in the black abyss.

“Sp-spirit?” you finally dared to ask, “Spirit…where are you taking me?”

And then he stopped. You could hear his sigh and felt the air around you grow colder. This sexy dream had quickly turned into a foreboding nightmare. A flame of light flickered in the palm of his other hand, it was like supernatural magic.

He pulled you in closer and his other hand came around and slapped your backside.

You shrieked and tried shoving him back, “Ow! What the hell! That hurt!”

He chortled, “Yes, the past can hurt, especially yours,” his finger scratched under your chin, “But it can also heal if you learn from it.”

The floor beneath your feet disappeared and you both plummeted into the darkness again. You screamed as your belly lifted up into your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt the spirit hug you tighter, your fingers desperately squeezed the wool of his sweater.

And then the falling stopped, and your screaming died down into violent pants. He still held you and then placed you softly down onto the ground below your feet.

His smile was gentle, “Here we are.”

05:00pm Christmas Eve, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Finally, you dared to open your eyes. Your hands were still clawed into his thick sweater when you looked around at your surroundings. It was a living room inside a trailer home. Red tinsel had been taped to walls. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner between the space of a couch and a basinet. Poorly drawn pictures of baubles, stars, Santa and elves had been scattered over the floor.

‘Ugh.’ Christmas decorations…but no, hold on…you knew this place.

And a soft hum of Jingle Bells filled your ears. You gasped. You knew who it belonged to in an instant. You let go of the Spirit and looked behind you.

A woman in the kitchen was opening a packet of biscuits, placing each one on a plastic plate. She was younger than you while sharing a likeness in appearance. The home smelt like gingerbread while she began to pour a cup of milk. She placed the cup on the small coffee table, sighing as she ran her palm over the swell of her protruding belly under her dress.

“M-mom?” you said shakily, “Mom is that…oh god mom! I missed you so much.”

You raced forward with your arms spread wide, seeking to hug her. As you closed your arms around her, you stumbled and fell hard to the floor onto your knees.

“Fuck!” you hissed and heard the mocking snicker come from the Spirit.

You twisted your body and sat back on your hands. You looked up and back at your mother, confused and dazed. Her feet were not on top of you, standing on you, but rather, she was standing inside and walking through you. You jumped in fright and crawled backwards, watching how she walked through you transparently.

“M-mom?” you whimpered, scared and confused. When she didn’t answer your voice filled with panic, “Mom!”

The Spirit, holding his hands behind his back chuckled, looking between you both.

You shouted, “What the hell is wrong with her!?”

His laughter pulled back and he hummed with a smile, “There’s nothing wrong, she can’t see you or hear you. These are but shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us.”

She totally ignored you as she lowered herself onto the couch.

The Spirit held his hand out to you to help you up from the floor. You slapped it away and used the wall for stability. He didn’t appear offended or surprised by your viperous habits. You shoved past him and fell to your knees in front of her.

“Mom?” you said a little more gently.

You reached out to touch her shoulder. Your fingers went straight through her. Your eyes watered. She looked up from her belly and her lips spread into her perfect smile. Her eyes glittered, “Honey, can you please grab the cookies for Santa?”

Your face lit up and you nodded desperately, scooting back off your knees to fetch the cookies from the small kitchenette, but before you could step forward, you heard the tiny squeak of a child, “Okay, mommy!”

And from the corner of your eye you saw her... next to the tree was a little girl in a plaid dress and pig tails with plaid scrunchies, laying on her belly, kicking her feet back in forth with a crayon in her little chubby hand scribbling a poor drawing of a reindeer. It looked more like a cow with antlers.

“Is that…”

The little girl crawled to her feet and skipped to the kitchen, she looked so small compared to the plate she carried back to the living room and placed it onto the coffee table proudly put the beside the milk.

You stood up and took a small step back. You bumped into the Spirits chest, “Is that me?”

He laid his hand on your lower back. He watched you watching your much younger self.

He hummed, “Yes, you were seven years old here I believe.”

‘Yes, just before Caroline was born.”

Your mom leant forward and grabbed the little girl by the waist, tugging her back and peppered kisses all over her small giggling face while her fingers tickled her sides until she begged her to stop.

“Love you my little troublemaker,” she whispered against the tiny cheek.

“I love you too mommy,” you and your younger self said in sync. This, the Spirit noted with a calm expression. He walked around the room. The smaller girl version of yourself ran through him as he perched himself on the arm of couch and cocked his head at the drawings scattered along the floor.

“You had talent, you know?” he mused.

A slam of the front door made you jump. Your father with a big welcoming grin came home shortly after. The little girl cheered excitedly, running off to show him the drawing she drew for him. He picked her up and threw her in the air before catching her again despite the disapproving look your mother gave him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” the little girl said giving him the picture, “Merry Christmas!”

He laughed with pure mirth and delight, his eyes squinted at the image, and he nodded.

You smirked; he had no fucking clue what the kid version of you had drawn.

“It’s beautiful babygirl, it’s ah…ah…”

He glanced over at your mother who mouthed the word back, “Reindeer.”

His eyes widened and his voice lilted, “A reindeer! Just for me!? Thankyou sweetheart,” he kissed her cheek, “I can’t wait to show all my friends this at work.”

He placed her safely down on the floor and walked over to your mother before sitting on the couch beside her. He put the picture on the coffee table and leant in to kiss his wife. Child you turned away and stuck out her tongue, in total disgust because ‘boys kissing girls was gross!’

“And how’s mommy been?” your father purred, laying a hand on her belly, his thumb lazily rubbed back and forth.

“Tired,” she groaned, “Little peanut is coming any day now. I can feel her kicking my rib cage, I think she’s planning her escape and wants to rocket out,” she breathed hard, her hand softly laced into her, holding it over the spot where your baby sister was kicking her feet.

You chewed your bottom lip and glanced at the Christmas Spirit who was grinning at the little girl in her pig tails and plaid.

You felt strange. And the strangeness was uncomfortable. Nausea filled your tummy.

“If this is a memory of just the past, “ you started wobbly, “Does that mean...everything is the same as it once was?”

“Yes, that’s right,” acknowledged the Spirit.

You smirked, “Good.” You twisted around on your heel and marched down the hallway that connected to your tiny bedroom.

A small surprised noise escaped you at seeing how pink and purple everything was coloured. On the walls was a my little pony poster. On your floral bed covers was your favourite Bratz doll. You sat down on the tiny bed and sighed before burying your face into your hands.

You tried sneezing. You tried slapping your face. You even got up and started doing jumping jacks. You would do anything to try and wake yourself up! A tiny knock broke your concentration, and you gasped coming face to face with the Spirit of Christmas. He was leaning against the doorway, holding back his laughter.

You sneered at him and sat back on the bed, panting softly. You tried remembering his name; calling him Spirit felt tedious.

“Chris was it?” you spat mockingly, “Is that because your name's Christmas?”

He dug his hands into his pockets, his smile unfaltered, “Nah, I just liked the name, it fits. My real name you wouldn’t be able to say because it hasn’t been said by the tongue of man.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yea okay whatever,” you dismissed sourly, “So, what the fuck is this? Huh? Is this some kind of sick game, are you trying to hurt me?”

Your throat grew tight. You couldn’t believe what was happening and why of all people this was happening to you. What did he even want? Was this just some insane plot to blackmail you?

“Well, guess what,” your chin jerked out at him, “I’m not scared, I’m not hurt. In fact I’m thrilled!” you showed off your laughter, forced from your lungs.

His smile softened, “Ah, but why is your lips trembling? And...what’s that I see?”

He took a large step forward and stood above you. You laid back, flinching at his hand reaching down to you face. Your heart thudded loudly.

His finger was hot on your cheek, it rolled up and brushed your skin. He pulled back the finger, rolling it into his knuckle and moved it between your eyes to show you something

On his finger was a drop of moisture.

“A tear?” he whispered, “What ever for?”

Your face felt hot and you blinked away the others that escaped your lashes, you sucked in a deep breath and rubbed your nose.

You let out a fake nervous laugh, “Please, you think I’m crying? Have you not seen how dusty this house his? I’m just having allergies.”

Little did you know, the Spirit could see beyond your lies.

He sat down beside you on your bed and placed his large hand on your knees.

You felt vulnerable. You didn’t want him here, you didn’t want to be here. And what was worse was his silence. He did not speak for a long while. The only noises were the sounds of the little girl and her parents in the living room.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You missed this point in your life. Things were simpler. You were so oblivious to the world and it’s harms.

“Your father sounds incredibly proud,” The Spirit said, his thumb ran over your skin.

Your eyes fluttered and you nodded.

“Did you know he told you the truth? About your picture?”

You eyed him cautiously.

He snapped his fingers and your bedroom faded into an office space. You were sitting on a dark oak desk. Seeing the boxy computer with twistable speakers struck you with nostalgia.

11:00am 26th December, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Your dad came through the office door, holding a piece of paper. Your picture.

He pinned it to a cork board and one of his colleagues that followed him in jokingly asked, “What’s with the Picasso cow?”

Your dad huffed back, “Hey man, it’s a reindeer and for your information, my daughter made it for me. And I’m lucky to have it. What did your kids get you?”

The coworker snorted and muttered under his breath, “A phone call asking about Child support, always check if the condom is ripped my friend.”

The two men left, bantering between each other.

You looked at the photo of your dad, your mom, seven year old you and a baby Caroline. It was a Polaroid taken in the hospital. Your mom had little Caroline just before the new year. You all looked so happy. You loved being a big sister, you couldn’t stop leaving baby Caroline alone, eager for her to grow up and become your best friend. Were there times she annoyed you? Yes, she was your sister after all. But Caroline had a heart of gold.

The Spirit touched the photo and asked with mirth, “Such a beautiful family...whatever happened?”

You didn’t answer. You slid off the desk and marched out of the office door only to somehow walk right back inside...you gasped and turned back around but when you opened the door to leave it was like staring into a mirroring space.

You poked your head out of the office only for it to be poking back inside through the same door.

It was the strangest paradox that you had come to find.

The Spirit sucked his teeth and shook his head, “Yea, funny that...so here’s the deal...you are going to follow my rules.”

‘Asshole doesn’t know what a deal is.’

He stood away from the cork board and sat down in your father’s rolling desk chair, stacking his feet up onto the wood loudly.

Your hands protectively wrapped around yourself. His pupils seemed to expand and shrink quickly like a cat. Your skin crawled.

“What rules?” You scoffed, “Are these a part of your test?”

He nodded once, “Yes. See for this whole thing to work, you have to comply and participate...meaning,” he shoved away from the desk and launched from the chair to walk fast towards you, causing you to walk backwards and hit the wall behind you, his hand grabbed and squeezed your jaw, from his teeth he seethed, “When I ask a question.. you answer it. Or I could just leave you here...forever.”

Your eyes watered, your chest heaved sporadically, “L-leave me here?”

His eyes fluttered, “Oh I’m sorry, you didn’t think this would have consequences?” His nose pressed to yours as he remarked, “Your little friend Marlene is stuck haunting your apartment for that reason. She’s stuck in a loop in which she can never escape. She gets to watch you everyday moving into her apartment and moving all her possessions around. I could leave you here and do the same. I could let you re-watch your father hang up your picture for eternity.”

His bright blue eyes darkened almost totally black. At that point you couldn’t tell if he was a good spirit or an unholy one.

You swallowed hard with a whimper and squeezed shut your eyes. His hot breath tickled your ear.

“I can be merciful...so...” his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, peeking out from your eyes you thought he might kiss you, “Let’s try again...”

When he released you and turned back to the cork board he clicked his fingers. You collapsed from the wall to your knees, too weak and shaky to hold you up after his dominant spell. Piles of work paper flew around the room, around his head, his eyes raced over the pages, the words turned glowing gold as he read over them with his supernatural powers.

“Your family looked stable enough for their poor income. You lived a decent childhood...” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes hard and demanding, “What happened that changed it all?”

You bowed your head cowering as you whispered, “You already know.”

The papers that swirled in a storm around him floated softly down to the floor in front of you. The ink of the printed words began morphing into swirling shapes and colours.

The Spirit said, “I’d like it if you told me. That’s how this works. We analyse what really happened compared to what you think happened.”

Your eyes stared at the colours in the ink rise, painting the image of a snow covered alley way from nightmares years ago. You gasped. Your mother, you and your sister were all walking down from the entrance. You clenched the front of your nightgown and desperately blabbered into begging. Tears ran down your face. It didn’t take much effort knowing what was to come.

“Please don’t make me watch it.”

You tried to move the papers away but the pages fought back in nasty stinging paper cuts.

Your covered your face and eyes before hearing the mystic being bellow, “Put your hands down!”

Half screaming you sobbed, “No, please! I can’t do it! Please!”

You stood up on your feet and threw yourself into him. He did not hold you and let you fall at his feet. He did crouch down and rub both his thumbs over your snot covered lip.

“Please,” you choked, his finger pressed to you mouth. He shook his head and softly hushed you. He cupped the back of your neck and moved his mouth to ghost along your lips.

You hiccuped and opened your mouth, waiting for him to just conquer a kiss. He almost did with how his tongue tickled your lips and teeth when he icily repeated, “Dont forget I can leave your here. And you can watch it over and over and over. Be a good girl. Tell me what happened.”

He sat on the floor and tugged you into his arms and lap. You buried your face into his neck and hiccupped again.

“C-caroline was nine and I was sev-seventeen...Mom took us Christmas shopping. We were gonna buy something for Dad. A watch. A really fucking nice watch because dad had a big promotion in New York coming up...on our way back home, a drunken asshole with a broken bottle threatened to kill us if we didn’t give him our bags. We complied and mom made sure to step in front of us. He got angry because it wasn’t a Rolex...he then...”

You broke down again and clenched Chris’ white sweater tightly. His fingers raced up and down your spine slowly and tempered, hushing you until you managed to start talking again.

“What did this man do?”

The pages turned dark burgundy red.

Your but your bottom lip and sniffled, “He punched the broken bottle into Moms’ belly. It was so sharp it cut through her jacket, her skin and fat all the way into her liver. There was nothing Caroline and I could do. We tried to stop the bleeding with our coats. But When paramedics arrived ....she had bled to death. I watched her choke on it.”

You wiped your tears and snot across his shoulder, the soft wool soaked it up. His strong hands pulled you closer into him. You straddled his hips, curling your legs around his back. Your night gown hem rose up around your nude hips. His body was so warm. He was like a blanket around you.

“She died, protecting us,” you gulped, “She died over a fucking watch because some greedy homeless drunk wanted money for some booze.”

The Spirit clucked his tongue, “Your mother passed and your father?”

Your tears had calmed down significantly, you covered yourself to sit on his thigh instead of balancing on just his lap. You twisted your body and stared at the moving pictures on the papers.

Your dad came to image. The black beneath his eyes and the sunken cheeks were not the man you wished to remember. He lit a cigarette and pressed a bottle to his lips.

“Dad got his promotion and we moved to Manhattan but...Mom’s death really took a toll on him.”

You were making paper angels on the floor with your sister. You hung them up together in her room. There was no Christmas tree. It was the Christmas after your mom’s death and before you left for college. It was the last Christmas you shared with Caroline.

The sweet ten year old was wise and emotionally matured than others her age. It was how she processed your moms death. Caroline at only ten was able to keep you and your father from experiencing more heart ache and grief.

You watched the two girls climbed under a blanket and play with a flashlight. You pushed over her wrist a rubber band loomed bracelet with her favourite colours. She gave you three fruity scented rubbers and a pencil she had been rewarded by her teacher at school.

“I used that pencil until the tip was impossible to hold,” you whispered and felt Chris’ warm wet lips press against your temple, he rocked you like you were the most fragile thing in the room. Maybe you were.

“She still keeps your rubber band bracelet in her bedside table...she wore it to the birth of your nephew,” The spirit stated.

You choked and cupped your hand over your mouth. You hadn’t cried so hard and so much in years not since-

“And then you left for College.”

You sucked in a deep and painful breath. You nodded and clenched your hand into a fist.

“College wasn’t so bad. I had my fun like everyone else,” you lied.

“Did you?” Chris smirked, “Let’s have a look at that then? Shall we?”

8:00pm 23rd December, 2012, New York University.

Your father’s desk morphed into a pool table.

It was the party of the season. Sororities and fraternities came together. You weren’t a member of a sorority. You chose to believe stand offishly that sororities were of a hive cult mind. It wasn’t worth networking in such a unnecessary club and housing.

You didn’t have friends in college either. You didn’t make yourself approachable. Always sitting at the front of the class room and never smiling. You were the dedicated pupil and that made you into the coldest fish of the school.

Your professors approval and marks is all you cared about. The more successful, the more opportunities and the more chances of gaining success enough to maybe look after your little sister. That originally was the goal.

You watched with Chris as a gaggle of Kappa delta girls giggled passed by a young girl no older than nineteen holding a red cup close to her chest. She looked disdainful and tired. She was wearing a basic white thankyou with a cotton scarf and jeggings. Thick black glasses at on the edge of your nose. You laughed awkwardly looking at the past youth. Your recalled your hipster phase in college but didn’t remember you looking this horrendous and mismatched. Your hair...you shuddered. You never did that style again.

“Fun party!” Chris called over your shoulder. He wore a red Christmas hat and in the crook of his lip was a party blower. The lights and music were obnoxiously jolly and hip hop rap remixes found on YouTube. You know YouTube? When it’s common the iPhone one was still a little television and not the red play button we know today. So many people were growing nuts over these two Neanderthals on a channel called “Smosh” at the time, maybe they were trying to mimic that movie of dipshits called Jack Ass.

Yes...party...you had been invited and you almost said no...but your mother’s death anniversary was coming up and you felt it appropriate to seek the comfort of other people and illicit items to take the pain away for a night. The young woman continued to help herself to the eggnog, standing right beside the table, spooning the goop into her red cup

You tried forgetting about the drunk monster that stabbed your mother all those years ago.

“A naughty freshman?” Chris chuckled, breaking you away from your thoughts.

He floated to the eggnog bowl and grinned,.“Barely a woman and breaking the rules, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rebel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hardly,” before walking over to sit on the edge of the pool table. Some guys were playing with their cues and balls. They walked through you as they passed by. One of them you remembered very well and tried your best to not acknowledge.

“It’s how you met him though...isn’t it?” said Chris, looking between the young woman and a young man playing at the table.

The man was handsome. Tall and dark. His eyes a burnt burgundy that sent the younger you thrills down your spine.

The young woman leaning in her corner and sipping her sorrows away was eyeing the game keenly. It looked...fun.

The very ass she looked upon was found and shaped with strong thighs and calf’s under those denim jeans. The ass belonged to a man. And that man turned around once he caught her staring in the corner of his eye.

He smirked and finished the game before swaggering over your way. Even now you still admired how good looking he was.

Chris was looking him up and down, smiling and cockily mimicking the walk but this time back to you so you could both watch the events of your forlorn past.

“Hey, aren’t you in my maths class?” The man asked leaning over her with just his right arm.

She ignored him initially, shrugging as a reply.

He chuckled, “You’re that weird chick that sits at the front right?”

Her eyes flickered back and her lip curdled, “And you’re that obtuse moron that doesn’t know the difference between algebra and calculus equations?”

Chris chuckled, “There you are. I was wondering when you’d come out to play.”

You felt a twinge ashamed. Is that how others saw you all the time? An uptight, haughty bitch? You remained quiet.

“Well...I find I act my dumbest when I’m around beautiful ladies,” said the confident man, “I get all nervous and stuff.”

“Nervous and stuff?” She repeated slowly, flicking her tongue deliberately against her teeth to sound out each precious syllable.

God, it made you cringe to watch yourself.

He leant in closer and pressed his nose to hers, his eyes glanced up and he said heatedly, “You’re standing beneath a mistletoe.”

Before he could officially kiss her, Chris clapped his hands and world the room around. He grabbed your wrist and made sure to stand you on his shoes as the people and party disappeared into books on shelves.

4:00pm 23rd December, 2013, New York University.

The pool table melted down into the shape of a smaller desk and chair. That same girl was sitting at it with her head in a book and her pen against the page. The sky outside was dark. It was snowing lightly beyond the windows.

That man from the party now wore a dark blue jumper and sweatpants, he wandered up beside her, sipping a starbucks milkshake.

She moved the thick black rim glasses from her face. Her fingertips rubbed circles into her eyes before returning back to the important reading material. Dark shadows bagged beneath her eyes.

“You were a dedicated student,” said Chris, his hands lingered up your spine and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You nodded. You were.

The loud sucking of the man’s Starbucks cup made her slap the book close.

With her tight voice she snootily scolded him, “You know you’re not allowed food and drink in the library.”

He smirked, “Whatcha gonna do miss goodie goodie? Gonna tell on me? Gonna take my drink away?” he shook it, the ice cubes rattled I side.

He chuckled and chewed the straw. His eyes glanced at you up and down.

“Youre kinda hot...in a weird nerdy way you know?” he chuckled.

Both younger you and the you if now rolled your eyes and scoffed. But you knew the younger version was naive and how so many of those one liner comments got you into the most destructive relationship of your life.

The young man stole her book from the desk and ran off with it. Her shriek became laughter as she quickly collected her bag and pencils to chase after him.

The Spirit held you when he stood behind you His hands cradled your arms and hip, rocking you slowly, side to side. He watched the interaction of two young people deep into their puppy love with a great fascination over his face.

“Who was the handsome beau?”

“Anthony Mackie...the schools best hockey player and class clown idiot,” you muttered.

Chris hummed with pleased curiosity, “Is that all?”

You grabbed at his wrists and squeezed them tightly. You pressed your head back into his chest and sighed.

��He was my boyfriend,” you said quietly to Chris.

The library seemed to fast forward. Outside the seasons changed from winter, spring, summer fall and back to winter again. She was sitting back in the same desk again. Her eyes were still tired and now she wore a little more makeup to conceal it. Her eyes were glued to the pages, racing to read and write notes. Her ipod shuffle earphones were half broken, crackling each time unless you held the cord in a specific way.

And a soft humming slipped from her lips, totally immersed in her study.

“Oh, oh, where do we begin? The rubble or our sins?”

Chris side glanced you and you side glanced him. Without the music, her crackly voice just sounded like a dying bird.

“And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love. Grey clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above.”

“An awful drawer and a terrible deaf tone singer,” he laughed, “I didn’t think I would learn so much about the things you’re bad at.”

You had to admit, he was right. You stomped hard onto his foot. His lips puckered and his eyes squeezed in his silent pain.

“Oops,” you feigned ignorance, “Guess I’m bad at watching my step too.”

“But if you close your eyes,” she sang a little louder and you felt that second hand humiliation wave through you hard, “Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes..Does it almost feel like you’ve been here befor-”

Behind her, Anthony came whistling around a corner and stuck his head into the study nook, stealing her head phone from her ear and kissed her cheek hard.

She smiled and just as quickly frowned.

“C’mon babe,” said Anthony, “Sebastian’s throwing a killer basement bash for the holidays. Let’s go to the party.”

The college girl laughed mockingly at her boyfriend, “I’m sorry, did you forget that we have a test tomorrow? I don’t have time to go out wasting it away with your degenerate friends.”

Chris hands sneakily ran down over your thighs and slipped beneath the night gown to cup your belly. Your breath hitched. You couldn’t tell if you were aroused or disgusted anymore. Why of all times and places was he groping you now?!

“Baby,” the hockey player sighed, “You’re the smartest chick I know. I’m sure you’ll pass tomorrow. A little bit of dancing and drinking won’t change that.”

“No,” she firmly hissed and turned her head back to your book. Anthony’s chest deflated.

“Anthony just wanted to party all the time,” you scoffed to Chris, “He was so horny and stupid I can’t believe I actually dated him.”

He gave you a side ways glance, his thumb rubbed tiny circles into your skin.

“So you dumped him?” he asked looking between you and your younger studying self.

Sheepishly you looked away and shrugged, “...not exactly...it’s complicated.”

“Enlighten me,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek after.

Your body grew warmer by the second especially in places you wouldn’t have guessed. Your insides felt alive and buzzing. It was so wrong.

“...I...” Anthony paused and took a few moments to break out his voice, “I can see your studies are more important than me, huh? We haven’t hung out in ages and...you’re never taking a break from study to enjoy life with me... Is this really more important? I mean, c’mon...” his eyes softened, “It’s almost Christmas break.”

And it was violent. You jumped watching her turn and announce cold cuttingly, “As a matter of fact, this is. I don’t have time to waste on dumb doornail guys when I need to succeed. I guess I can’t expect a hopeless hockey player to understand. Go skate on some ice and hit a put, it’s not like you’ll be able to feed your future family.”

His eyes widened.

Your eyes widened.

Her eyes darkened with scornful hate.

He kissed her head and shook his head, he whispered, “Merry Christmas Y/N. I wish you nothing but the world in your palm, I just won’t be in it.” He stood away shakily. Tears were pearled in his eyes as he walked away leaving her to her own devices. She grunted and went back to her studies... The next morning you had earned the top score of the class.

You knew the break up was quick, you didn’t remember saying such a mean thing to the guy you had fallen mad head over hill in love with.

You couldn’t believe you had been so cruel.

But you had. And there was nothing you could do to take it back. It happened. It was done. Finished.

And Anthony did nothing wrong except invite you to a party, a party you never went to, a party where he met his future wife.

“Spirit remove me from this place,” you choked as your chest began trembling.

Chris hushed you and kissed the side of your head, “It’s alright, I told you before, these are merely shadows of the past, things that have been.”

He wiped the unwilling tears coursing down your cheek.

You shook your head and wailed, “I don’t fucking care! Remove me! Take me somewhere else!”

A vile sobbing wail screamed from your lips. You didn’t know where it had come from. Your knees gave way and you fell, Chris’ arm caught your waist in time and laid you down across the carpet.

The vision of time phased away to the darkness. You felt your heart get louder, fearing the unknown pitch black. His hot hand cupped your cheek and you found yourself cowering into his chest.

1:40am 25th December, 2023, New York City.

There was a faint light in the area around you. Dim and blue. Your eyes struggled to open...you lifted your head from what you originally believed was Chris’ chest. Yet it revealed to you quickly that the warmth was only your soft pillows. You were back in your own bedroom again. The sheets has been wrapped around your waist and legs.

You didn’t know how to feel. You just cried. You buried your head and sobbed. You missed your mother and the father you once had. You missed Anthony and regretted how much you might’ve hurt him. And you missed being touched...you missed Chris’ warm hands holding you and the foolish grin he wore. You barely knew up but you mourned his existence that might’ve not been real at all.

Sitting up sniffling and sighing hard, you got out of your bed and walked to your kitchen. You reached for your coffee machine and paused. No, you need something stronger. You went to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of wine from earlier. You intended to finish the damn thing and forget everything for a while.

Turn back around you returned to your room to lay back in your three thousand dollars bedsheets...

Except you didn’t recall buying him too.

Chris, still here. Now laying across your very luxuriously soft duvet. He made it dramatically obvious, running his cheek into your pillow smelling the essence of your tears.

Your spine shot up and down hot. You tried not to smile. You were pleased he was here. You didn’t know where he came from or where he was hiding before but seeing him again welcomed something into your cold heart.

His eyebrows wiggled, “Oh, Merlot? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

You hummed feigning your displeasure, “Its Pinot Noir... I didn’t think you’d be so uncultured.”

He chuckled, looking down at the soft fabrics he was pinching, “Yea, well I’m probably more knowledgeable on hot chocolate and eggnog more than anything.”

He pat the spot beside him, inviting you to sit on your own bed. You felt it was ironic and ludicrous.

“Maybe...anyway...don’t you have somewhere else to be? Someone else to bother?” You snipped and cocked your hip.

“As a matter of fact...” he rolled onto his back and placed his hands behind his head, “I don’t, so be a good snowflake and join me, the covers are incredible!”

You snorted softly rolling your eyes, “I know,” you sat on the bed and unscrewed the bottle, you took a deep sip and cringed a croak, “I bought them.”

He took the bottle from his hands, not asking if he could. But really what was the point in fighting him. He stole your wine and took his own sip. You couldn’t help stare at his bobbing Adams apple.

He passed the bottle back. You were going to take another drink before Chris said, “It all makes sense now.”

You eyes him putting the bottle down....he was daring you to ask it, you knew it...and you complied.

“What?”

You crawled onto your knees on the mattress and waited with your curious eyes. The wine warmed your belly. You tossed your head to one side, staring up and down the Spirit. He had such an appealing form for something so inhuman and supposedly holy.

He smiled.

“What!?” you repeated needfully.

He sighed, “This,” he waved his hand towards you.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed and a bold bolt drove through you, the twinge of annoyance mixed with frustrated anger, “If you’re going to talk in riddles, you can get the fuck off my bed and get the fuck out of my apartment. Merry fucking Christmas.”

His smile remained but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He lifted his chin.

“How you became a holiday hating, grievously malicious, uptight little cunt.”

Your eyes could have popped out from your head, “Excuse me?!” You gagged on nothingness. Your fists curled...‘What happens to people who punched Spirits in the nose?’

He shrugged and sighed, “You wanted to know. Don’t blame me for telling you the truth. I don’t do white lies, that’s not in my books.”

You grabbed the wine again and took a mean big gulp, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, “If that was the case,” your voice said with barbs, “Children wouldn’t believe in Santa and the north pole and his company of elves.”

He pursed his lips and nodded before he snatched the bottle from your hand and vanished it from existence.

“Hey!” you snapped, “I wasn’t finished with that! It cost me-”

“Nothing,” he interrupted and tapped his fingers on his chest, “It didn’t cost you a penny because you got a refund when you lied to the winery that it’s wax seal was broken upon delivery when it very well wasn’t...but upon tasting it you felt it wasn’t worth the price you paid therefore it shouldn’t cost you a dime...it didn’t cost you a damn thing.”

You sat back and gulped, ‘How the fuck-‘

“Christmas past remember? I see all...so don’t bother trying to convince me that you needed to finish that meaningless sip,” he curtly said, “You need to focus on bettering your mindset and yourself. It’s important.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted down at the floor. You wanted to cry and scream with embarrassment, you wanted to kick or break something.

He smirked and picked up your chin with a long finger. You sniffled and jerked your head away. You crawled down to the very end of your bed. You pulled the covers back and kicked the sheets before sliding your feet under them and pulling them up to your chin.

You huffed softly, feeling the prickling heat of tears behind your eyes, why did he have to shame you so easily, “Or what, you gonna chain me up like Marlene? Go on then, call me a cunt again. Put me on your big ol’ scary naughty list.”

You shook your head and rolled your entire body away from him. A tear rolled from your eye and soaked down into your pillow, meeting the rest of its previous brethren tears.

Chris gazed down at you with sad hope. He really did want you to pass the test. He knew you had the potential, but did you have the drive? Maybe you just needed the push...

You were lonely in life more than ever before. You were miserable despite convincing yourself you were incredibly successful in all parts of life.

His arm circled forward and bodly rubbed down your middle and curled around your waist. You sniffled again, ignoring his touch all together.

He laid his cheek ontop of yours and whispered, “Do you want to know what happens to naughty girls like you? You want to really know what they get?”

You shut your eyes, you didn’t want to look at him. You were upset and too ashamed. You didn’t want to be teased again.

You mumbled grumpily, “Coal up their ass?”

“Oh it’s not coal that goes up there,” he hummed deeply

Your eyes fluttered awake.

His hand reached under the duvet and touched your bare thigh...his finger tips wriggled in between your thighs and attacked your clit...your breath hitched.

“I gather you need motivation if you are to improve your outlook on life,” he breathed huskily into your ear.

Your lips parted, your eyes squeezed tight. A gurgling moan crawled from your throat. You rocked your hips into his hand and savoured his controlling hand.

Tiny pants left your lips as he pushed two fingers inside of your salivating pussy. He twitched them back and forth at an average steady pace.

His hot wet tongue licked from your shoulder up to your ear. His loud sucking on your skin cause a small keen shudder to glide down your spine. He kissed your neck and sighed into your skin.

His knee curled up and pressed between your thighs, he fully intended to keep your entire pussy open and available to his instrumental fingers.

“Look at you,” he muttered, “So compliant when I have my fingers up this stubborn cunt. Are you going to promise you’ll behave and obey me from now on? Cease you insistent fight?”

“Pl-please Chris,” you gasped,

He smirked against you skin, “Please what?” he purred

“F-fuck!” you whined and pressed your ass back against him, trying to rub against his hidden cock.

He slapped your backside once making you jump. He chuckled wickedly, “I will if you promise to obey and listen.”

You panted and groaned, “Make- make me!” you wouldn’t submit so easily....not even for unworldly dick.

His noise was feral, rising from the back of his throat like a growl. He pressed his mouth to yours. You whined, his tongue choked you and pressed your tongue down, dominating you even in kiss.

He gasped pulling back, “Very well you stubborn slut.”

He snapped his fingers and poof- the blankets, your night gown and surprisingly all his clothing vanished from the bed all together.

You gasped at the feeling of his hot skin pressing up your back. Your hands clawed the pillows as he thrust his fingers fast and hard. Your eyes started to roll until the sensation was totally lost. He selfishly took his hand back, moments before you hit the high. You whimpered and trembled. You couldn’t breathed you were a mixture of frustration, anger and needy obsession. You would have done anything for him to finish.

He sat up and rolled you until your belly was laid over his legs. His cock you could not see but feel touching you made you excited and eager to know how it would feel to fuck you. His hands roughly kneaded your thighs and bottom.

‘No...he wouldn’t...’

His hand came flying down cracking across the skin of your ass. You squealed and felt your hips launch up in the air. The sting was like a cutting burn that lasted for around thirty seconds. He did it again and again. His flat palm struck you and would the pain absorb before rubbing the flesh. You didn’t fight him and that did not surprise him.

Your hips wriggled and twisted. His hand was harsh and fiery. You groaned and savoured it. And when it felt almost too much and you tried to wiggle free. He pinned you down hard by your neck and shoulders.

You bit your lips and cried, really cried. You grit your teeth and sobbed through each striking spank on your naked ass. Your hands clawed the bed and the skin of his thighs. He hailed into you harder. You screamed and choked on your sobs. It wasn’t fun anymore. It hurt and he wasn’t stopping even when you began squealing and kicking your legs on the bed trying to twist your hips away.

“Stop! Stop please! Please! It hurts! No more, no more.”

“If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.”

You swore he had to have been flaying your skin by his hand until you reached back and cupped or own hot cheeks, protecting yourself from his whiping palm.

You sobbed and trembled. You flinched and whimpered with shining tears when a surprisingly soft knuckle brushed your cheek and his husky voice hushed you softly.

He slowly turned you over off his lap and dragged you close to his chest.

He shoved his thumb into your mouth. You didn’t fight or pull back. You sucked on this digit, wrapping your lips around it. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you closer. Your breasts pressed to his chest, he was warm

And his thumb gave you something to focus on instead of your burn sore bottom. You whined and laid your head back on the pillows. You rubbed to cheek on the warm skin of his shoulder while he soothed you from your tears using his soft cooing and thumb you greedily kept in your mouth. You moaned and mewled over it, licking the pad and scratching your tongue along his nail.

His fingers ran up and down your back. He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a gentle pop.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “Greedy, spoilt, but once you’re faced with real consequences you come to heel...”

You tried shaking your head, denying it. No. You were an independent woman with control.

A false mocking awe came from him as he said, “Oh yes, yes that’s exactly what you are. But you’re going to promise to be a good girl from now on or else you’ll never cum again.”

You were speechless...you wanted to be fresh with him and state that you still owned a vibrator...but what if he took it away like your wine.

He spread your thighs, he tugged your knees over his hip and rubbed your clit with his fingers until you were wet enough to his liking. He kissed you again, laughing as you pressed yourself up into him, stealing any physical touch you could possibly gain. He ran a soft hand across your cheek, tender and loving. His lips suckled their way down to your chest. Those red cherry lips plucked at your nipples and soft breasts.

Finally the tip of his pink cock touched your pussy. It was firm and from what you could see in the faint dark, it was lengthy. Your arms reached up and held onto his shoulders, you dug your nails sharply into his shoulders as he entered.

He grunted and sighed, struggling to stuff himself in and would pause when your noises were whines of pain. He made sure to avoid any tearing.

And when he managed to press himself taut into you, his balls touching your ass and thigh, you felt like you had been through a workout.

The walls of your cunt were filled to every crevice of his fat cock. You moaned when he moved tiny thrusts into you instead of brutally slamming.

You pressed your mouth to him again, his eyes looking back at you with adoration. He jerked his hips back a little meaner watching you gasp. He mocked your gasp before kissing your nose and then your mouth. He did it again to taste and feel your gasp.

He moved you back, dislodging quickly so that he could climb over you and enter swiftly inside. He picked your legs up with the backs of your knees and anchored himself down, harder and faster picking up the speed.

“You hear that?” he asked and moved himself in smaller jerks, “Dirty little slut, you’re drooling syrup all over my pole.”

And if you weren’t so close to cumming you would’ve laughed. His hand pressed down on your throat. He barrelled into you and slapped a breast.

The sensations of being prevented to breathe as straight and the slap intensifies all your senses. You groaned and choked.

He hissed, bending down to press his nose into yours.

Your legs wrapped tight around his waist trying to lift your hips up to meet him.

“You want to cum?” he snarled? You nodded trying to not cry again. God you needed it.

“Pl-pl-please,” you gasped through the violent thrusts.

He licked your cheek and growled, “You promise to be on your best behaviour from now on?”

You whimpered and nodded.

His thumb attacked your clit as he fucked you.

“Cum,” he whispered, “Cum for me on my cock little slut.”

Your body contorted, muscles strained as you released a soundless scream. You threw your head back let you body be consumed by the orgasm you let tear through your entire body. Your bones and chest rattled. When air finally came to your lungs you let out a powerful sob. But Chris gazing down at you bore joyful vision at your smile as you cried.

You felt incredible, hit by a bus made of all things delightful.

His cock was still inside you. You didn’t take a moment to think about him or whether he cummed. You selfishly enjoyed the gift he gave you and forgot about the promise you had vowed.

He pulled away slowly. You hissed at the departure. So sensitive.

You curled lazily up into a ball and fluttered your eyes shut.

You only recalled feeling his hot lips against your ear, “I will return to you when the bell chimes once more...” his pecked your cheek and left you to lay in your mess, exhausted and falling into your own sleep again.

#tsoc #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x ofc #christmas smut #Christmas evans x black!reader #dubious consent #dark!chris evans

[sleepy-wyvern]

The Love Interest | Ethan Landry x female!Reader Smut

READ HERE ON AO3, This will be a multi chapter smut

Scream 6 re-imagined as the love interest of (protective) Ethan Landry!

Tags: tbd, will include violence and blood

Synopsis: Starting the semester as Anika's roommate the last thing you had expected was to be roped into a murder mystery, your life hanging on the line. When you meet Ethan Landry at a halloween party, his cute nervous charm pulls at your heart strings and things escalate.

Note: my lovely eddie fans, I have a request im working on and plan to post tomorrow <3

Spoilers below (plus first chapter ~2.8k words, rest will be on AO3 to follow click here)!

I included many scream 6 scenes (especially towards the end) so major spoiler warnings!!! This will be a longer, multi-chapter series I intend to write (WITH SMUT!) until the end of the movie plus a little epilogue. Be prepared for some angst and drama, I promise it ends nice!

When shit hits the fan, he can't keep his eyes off of you, lest something bad happen to the first love of his life he watches your every move. In fact it made him nervous when he couldn’t see you or know where you were. It made you feel safe, comforted even, but it wasn’t always that way. Unbeknownst to the reader, he is hiding a huge dark secret.

NOTE: The rest of the fic will be available on AO3 but heres the first chapter!

The white ghost mask looked sorrowful, almost regretful, as it held the sharp knife up to your throat. Strong hands pressing the blade just enough for hot liquid to drip down to your chest. The dark alleyway concealed you from any onlookers and any reach for help as you desperately tried to pull the black gloved hand away.

"I'm sorry," the voice was a whisper in the wind.

You thought back to how stupid you had been to trust him. But could you really blame yourself? For desperately wanting someone to trust, someone to protect you when it felt like nobody else was there for you?

When you first really talked at that Halloween frat party, he was eyeing you from across the room. He wore a homemade knight costume out of cardboard and duct tape, his hair curled from behind the helmet. You thought it was cute and endearing- the attention he gave you from afar. The knight you desperately wanted.

Two Nights Before Halloween.

You were all dressed up as your roommate Anika hauled you along to “the Halloween party of the year,” or as she called it. Tonight you wore the iconic Mia Wallace set from Pulp Fiction; short black bobbed wig, white button up shirt and of course bell bottoms. The one fun part of these parties was dressing up.

Your film studies class had been raving about the party, and you weren’t doing great in terms of friends having just moved to the city. So why not go to a party? Especially since your peppy, overly encouraging roommate was going and wanted to drag you along. She had spent the last couple of hours in your shared room perfecting the best pumpkin look she could, no doubt to impress, and you knew she would.

She was dressed in a cute bright orange pumpkin shirt with matching bucket hat, ready to party and drink the night away with her heels clicking on the city sidewalk in front of you.

You put one white ear bud in your ear, playing your On Repeat playlist to try and calm your nerves.

“There will be lots of boys there,” Anikas' voice piped up, sensing your unease “you like boys right?”

It was no secret Anika and Mindy had something going on. While she framed this as a chance for you to mingle, you knew she wanted a chance to get closer with Mindy. Still, you played along. It wouldn't hurt to find your own love interest.

“Sometimes,” you reply with a sly smile. Truth be told, you weren’t exactly interested in the fuckboys these parties tended to attract like fruit flies. Your type was softer, kinder.

Looking back at you, her curled brown and blond hair flowing in the wind. She always looked gorgeous, like a supermodel except with a sweet edge rather than sharp. Her face turned from optimism to concern upon seeing your expression. She stopped in her tracks, putting her arm around you in a tight reassuring hug.

“You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to,” she reassured.

“I know,” you smile at her “thanks but I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll introduce you to all of mine and Mindys' friends,” she squeezed your shoulder tightly as you nod, her black painted lips turned up into a smile “I’ve got your back.”

You make your way to the party with her arm linked through yours, confidently carrying you both. The trek seemed to take forever even though it was only a couple blocks away, your legs feeling numb against the New York air.

You hear the party from a block away, loads of students coming and going with different costumes making you feel uneasy. Strangers laughed, bickered, and had loud chatter as they walked seemingly from all directions. Strangers with intentions unknown, people you possibly will never see again. Classic New York people traffic. Normally, you didn't mind or even enjoyed the city aesthetic. Now though, there was too much happening. Sirens blasted as cop cars drove down the street, lights flashing harshly in your eyes reflecting off of glass windows and puddles. Part of you wondered where they were going in such a hurry, but you decided it best not to think about it right now, cop cars were constantly coming and going somewhere in the night.

As you approached the building you let out a deep breath of air, fuming with weed and alcohol. People stood everywhere, in the house, outside on the lawn, on the sidewalk, dressed in different wacky costumes. Normally you’d take the time to appreciate every one, all of the different references they had if they were clever. These kinds of parties though, most people just grabbed the first thing that made them laugh or looked sexy from the halloween section.

Stepping inside the frat house was like stepping into a portal to another world. The music, sounds, scents, lights and everything seemed more enhanced.

“I need a drink” you decided out loud to Anika, fixing your wig nervously.

“Agreed” she nodded, guiding you to the table of beverages.

You both grab your own cliche red solo cups as you pour drinks. Whatever it was you didn't care, you just needed the fire down in your stomach to fill you with courage.

“Hey,” some guy spoke to you as he just refilled his drink, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

You pressed your lips into a fine line, giving him the most uninterested tone you could muster “hey” by the time you spoke his attention was already gone, eyeing up his next target's skimpy outfit and walking toward her like a predator.

Anika giggled at you then filling up her drink, “I thought you liked boys.”

“Not that kind,” you mutter in disgust as you fill your cup, staring into the liquid wondering what it was. Anika had told you but the information was lost to you.

“What kind then?” she swished the liquid in circles in her cup curiously.

You shrug suddenly unsure how to answer “Nerdy, cute, fluffy haired boys.”

“Ah, the first murder suspects,” Anika laughs as you answer, gently smacking her shoulder.

“Well, let’s drink to you finding a boyfriend” Anika smiles, holding her cup up to you “or just some good dick.”

You laughed as you clinked your plastic cups together in some form of celebration and your eyes met his. Brown and sweet, they reflect the faint party lights, glancing away nervously when you notice him looking, as you gulp down some alcohol. You knew him to be Ethan Landry. Clearly his costume wasn’t store bought, pieced together with cardboard scraps and grey duct tape. You imagined him slaving away at it the night before, watching some scary movie as he cuts the pieces from his helmet. Your lips curve into a smile at the thought.

He was shy of you but you found it alluring. You were shy too so you never really talked much, but had a mutual friend group. Anika was a thing with Mindy, who knew his roommate Chad. A semi-complex list of connections that brought you two together at events like this.

You knew Mindy, Chad, Tara and her sister Sam, had survived a brutal attack and moved here for an escape. You, Anika, Ethan and even Tara’s roommate Quinn, sometimes felt like outsiders to them. Not that it bothered you, you understood they needed each other more than ever after what happened. It just strengthened the bond you all had, the supporting cast so to speak.

You mingled around with some of Anikas’ friends, chattering as the music hummed in your ear drums but really the only one you clicked a little with was Mindy and Tara.

“Scary movie fan huh?” Mindy drilled you “what’s your favourite scary movie?” She wiggled her eyebrows, pulling Anika close to kiss her cheek. She wore a multi-colored sweater and you were guilty to admit you weren’t sure if it was from a horror movie or not, something you should know in order to be considered a “true” horror fan.

Anika batted at her shoulder “how can you even joke about that, after what happened to you?” her lips twisted in a scowl.

Mindy shrugged “consider it a coping mechanism” she kissed Anika on the top of her head as she sighed, melting down any irritation Anika may have had.

“I don’t even know how you can go to parties anymore,” Anika said with an edge of sadness “you know, after almost being brutally murdered at a house party.”

“I think of it as being struck by lightning, odds are it won’t happen twice.” Mindy shrugged, pulling Anika closer by the waist.

“Guess I better stay close to you then,” Anika giggled into Mindy as they shared a cute, passionate kiss.

Suddenly you felt awkward and looked about to find a place to cool off underneath your hot wig, and give Anika some privacy. Sighing in defeat you slump against the worn couch. You were so engrossed in all of the sensations you didn’t notice you sat next to Ethan the cardboard knight.

After a minute of shared silence his nervous voice chimes in your ear, slightly startling you but you don’t show it. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here,” he takes off his helmet and lays it in his lap after he speaks.

You were taken aback, the light party music that played in the background seemed to dim. His light brown curls bounced as she shook his head away from any helmet hair. The action, though not intended to, made your heart pound in your ears as you imagined what it would be like to bury your fingers in his hair. A thought which was dangerously close to other, more escalating ones, so you push it away.

“Yeah, well, you’re not far off” you smile into your cup before looking up at him “I’d rather be watching scary movies, I’m only here because Anika invited me” you admit.

His nerves get the best of him and he glances back down at his helmet with a smile “me too. Oh uh, I mean about the scary movie part.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, interest piqued “what ones?”

You shift your body to face him, straightening out the creases in your button up shirt. His face grows red as his nerves hit but clearly you hit a spot of interest with him.

“Slashers,” he admits, a little nervous perhaps that he’ll come off weird, fiddling with his helmet.

Your eyes sparkle under the muted party lights “I love slashers! They’re like, my comfort movies” you say with maybe too much enthusiasm.

He equally matches yours though, as if you chipped away at his invisible mask of insecurity “I would’ve panned you for more of a Quentin Tarantino fan.”

“Oh I am, don't worry. Pulp fiction? Django? Kill Bill? You have me there. But slashers have my heart, just I couldn’t turn down a chance to dress like Uma Thurman tonight.” You admit.

“Understandable, pulp fiction is probably what really got me into movies” you bob your head taking a drink as he talks, “what’s your favourite slasher?”

A thud of someone dropping something behind you made you turn your head, Ethan’s gaze following yours before you answer.

“Mmm, I gotta say I’m a fan of Stab,” you admit, dabbing the sour liquid off your lips careful not to smear your makeup.

Your drink wasn’t pleasant, but it silenced your nervous thoughts which without it, you would’ve been long gone from this party. Something sweeter, and fruitier would’ve been nicer but you’ll take what you could get. The smooth ease of the conversation for you helped.

“Really?” His eyebrows raise, shocked.

“Yeah,” You admit, “I know it’s cheesy and has all of the tropes but that makes it easy and fun to watch. Also entertaining.” You run your black painted fingernail along the rim of your cup, Ethans eyes trail down to watch your hand movements.

“Well how about Halloween?” He asks, tapping his fingers against his cardboard helmet nervously, perhaps unintentionally mimicking you.

You think for a moment before responding “well, I’d like it more if they didn’t kill the dog,” you say sadly, “honestly though I loved it. My go to Halloween movie, I try to watch it every year at least.”

“Ah, fellow dog fan” he nodded “I can understand that.”

“Have you watched the new one? Halloween ends?” You asked him, remembering it has just been released not long ago “its playing in theaters now-”

You’re cut off by the sound of a scuffle (to put it lightly). Peering over at the stairs you notice it’s Chad shoving a taller guy in a white shirt.

“Oh no,” Ethan lets out a sigh.

Normally, you’d want no part of these things trying to stay as far away as possible but you notice Anika taking interest. Leaning forward you see Tara desperately trying to end the altercation, voice too dim against the music and other chatters to hear what she’s saying.

Ethan side eyes you as you grip the side of the couch nervously. Sam, seemingly coming from nowhere, tasing the man in the crotch as he falls to the floor muttering profanities.

“What have our roommates gotten us into?” you say with humor, though you feel nervous about the situation.

“Hah, yeah,” Ethan says, looking over at the group as you stand up, “it’s fine since Sam always carries a taser.” He watches your expression and seems relieved when your body relaxes from his words.

You follow Anika and the group outside wondering what happened as Tara storms out. The cold air was reassuring against you and you took solace in the quieter atmosphere. You start to hear your own music in your ear again, realising you never took the ear bud out.

“Tara,” Sam calls out to her, who is walking ahead of the group “will you stop?”

“I can’t believe you did that, you embarrassed me!” Tara calls back while still walking.

Chad and Anika walk ahead of you and Ethan, unsure of how to react yet.

Suddenly you turn to Ethan whispering, “Hey, uh how about that movie? I remember there’s a playtime soon” really you just figured they would want some privacy.

Chad unfortunately hears and looks back to Ethan raising his eyebrows with a cocky grin, to which Ethan scowls at. In unison, Anika looks back with her mouth open, surprised as well and redness rises quickly to your cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I’d love to,”a raised eyebrow from Chad makes Ethan backtrack a little, “if you want.”

“Anika,” you scold, “I’ll call you later,” you speak with a firmness in your voice that signals her to behave.

She nods, trying to not interrupt the bickering sisters as you and Ethan trail back, the voices slowly fading out of earshot.

You sigh to diffuse the tension, bringing your phone up to change the music “I figured that was a conversation we shouldn’t hear-” you pause to rephrase “at least I shouldn’t.”

“No, yeah, you’re completely right,” Ethans body was rigid as if nervous.

You smile at him softly when an idea pops into your head “Do you like music?” you ask, realizing how stupid that question sounded after the words left your mouth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

“I do,” he replies and you hold out an ear bud, his hand grazes yours as he grabs it, you shiver from his warmth.

Your earbuds are wired which renders him to stand closely to your right side. For a moment you’re so glad that you opted out of the wireless ones tonight as the heat from his body radiates onto yours.

“I just realized I have no idea where I’m going,” you laugh as you walk down the sidewalk after a minute of listening together.

“Right, new to the area,” Ethan looks down at his feet as you walk in unison “I know the way, it’s not very far. Students like movies.”

You laugh slightly “good, being lost in New York for a third time isn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

You look up at him and as he smiles back, for the second time tonight, you see a glimpse of him through his mask. True and genuine, a reflection of his soul perhaps, the city lights flash in his eyes when he looks down at you. Such a gorgeous smile, you think to yourself admiring the point of his canines giving a side of him you have yet to see.

“Lead the way, my cardboard knight.”

----

💙💙💙💙

Let me know if you like or enjoy, no matter how new/old this fic is when you read it, I love and appreciate every notification! Be gentle, I'm very new to fic writing.

Have a great day my lovely reader!

-Wyv

#scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 ethan landry #scream vi ethan landry

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

chapter I of and her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest

Pairing: Teenage!Arlecchino x gn!Teenage!Reader

Genres: politics & law, angst (mostly light)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: corrupted legal system and government, mentions and discussions of said corruption, brief violence, brief mentions of blood, murder, and death; me trying to replicate how a trial would work if the circumstances are insane

| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | epilogue

~~~

The damp and murky streets of downtown Brume de Lys left dark trails of water along your bare feet. The fog cast throughout the city hindered your sight as you ran, occasionally bumping into towering figures traveling home from work. The stained light blue blanket lying along the creases of your elbows was slowly becoming looser. Shouts and the heavy thumping of boots echoed from behind you as the sound of your racing blood filled your ears. Adrenaline coursed through you, and your body was shaking with stress and exhaustion.

As you sharply rounded a corner, you were met with the hands of your older brother grasping your forearms.

“Are you alright? What’s on your shirt?”

You brought your hands up to your eyes, much too frantic and panicked to respond. It was not needed, however, as the night patrol officers quickly caught up with you.

“Step away from the offender, sir!” one ordered.

Your brother looked at the man with his ever-persistent defiance, doing his best to appear intimidating in the face of danger.

“What have they done?”

“That is between us and the law.” the other spoke.

“If you cannot give me a reason to leave my sibling, I will not.”

The patrol looked at each other before one sighed and said, “If you will not obey, you will be punished as well.”

Your brother stared down the guards, his hands beginning to shake around your elbows. Time seemed to slow as a bullet of violet electricity flew into his leg, just barely scraping along the end of your blanket. His grip on you loosened as he fell spasming to the ground. The patrolmen raced toward you both, one roughly grabbing your upper arm and causing your blanket to fall onto the cobblestone sidewalk. The other turned your brother around and placed silver cuffs around his wrists. The civilians around you continued walking by even as you were both placed into the black vehicle of the third arriving officer. This was not an uncommon occurrence for them – every day people would be dragged either to prison or court whether they were innocent or guilty.

Every person in the nation of Fontaine would face judgment day, and every person would accept that system whether they liked it or not.

—

Half an hour later, a young woman walked down the same street. A wicker basket of fruit hung from her right arm, paired with two loaves of bread. The slightly tattered clothes she wore blew around in the wind and her braided white hair began coming loose. The business of the streets was dwindling from when she first arrived at the market. The church bells began to toll as she noticed a darkened blue blanket lying in a puddle of black. It reminded her of her own waiting for her in a vast collective bedroom not far from here now, kept in a place she dreaded to return to.

A few coins remained in her pocket, jostling with each step she took. She had debated handing them back to the director, but instead, she decided that she would keep them hidden in the bread bag in her mattress. A simple excuse that the shopkeep had raised his prices would be enough to dwell the director’s suspicion.

A pattern of frayed black on the stone walkway caught her attention. The familiar feeling of bitterness grew in her heart again as she looked down at what was becoming the symbol of her city. It was no secret that Brume de Lys was becoming a display of corruption, at fifteen the girl could understand it better than ever before. The people of Fontaine were simply entertainment for their archon, and being ruled by such a tyrant ignited a mutinous flame in her. One day she would escape, not only the nation but the dismal environment of her orphanage.

—

 The steady sound of rain echoed through your cell from the small barred window in the corner. It was freezing in the dreary room, and you had no reprieve from the unbearable chill. No blanket was on the hard old bed, and you were alone. When you arrived at the jail the previous night you were separated from your brother. He was twenty and five years older than you. They sent him to a different location, and he likely wouldn’t even receive a trial. The officer's testimonies would be all the court needed to charge him.

A key unlocking your cell drew your view from the grey clouds outside to the blue-coated monochrome of the bailiff’s uniform. Her white hair was slicked into a bun with two cerulean strands flowing from it. She said nothing as she motioned you out of the cell and stood to your side. A small show of respect in the face of contempt. She guided you through the vaguely familiar winding underground of the court. The structure for residencies of law closely resembled the law itself – maddening, tricky, and intricate.

Large doors of mahogany lined in gold and officers stood before the courtroom. The bailiff looked apologetic as she placed cuffs around your wrists and grabbed you by the arm. If the officers cared about her actions, they did not show it as they opened the tall doors. 

Your eyes widened at the display before you.

There were no spectators. No jury. No attorneys. Just a madwoman and her chief justice highlighted on a dais. 

No one else would be in this room.

The archon’s eyes glimmered with delight as she sat with a light smile on her face. The chief justice’s face sat stoic, and regret and guilt sat heavily behind his eyes. Every step you took fell deaf behind the bailiff’s boots hitting the wood floor. She guided you to a small wooden seating area before the dais, as she moved to stand beneath the justice and to his right.

“__ __, correct?”

You looked at the chief justice. “Yes, Your Honor.”

He hummed briefly. “Please state your case.”

The only knowledge you had of a trial was from your father’s five years ago. Nonetheless, you stood up and shared what happened the previous night.

“On the previous evening, I entered the butcher’s shop at the local market. When I left twenty minutes later, I was being chased by patrolmen. I wanted to purchase meat for my brother to cook for dinner, and now I am allegedly a criminal. I was raised in what is seen as the dregs of the city, but that does not make me inherently transgressive. I did well in school until I could no longer attend. When my brother and I lost our parents in the same week, we grieved, but we worked hard to provide for ourselves. The money we made almost always went toward food and shelter. The night I went into the butcher’s shop I was looking to purchase a cut of sirloin to share with my brother. I waited for ten minutes before I was serviced. I happened to spill a bit of the blood from the wrapped raw steak onto my shirt as I walked out since another customer bumped into me. When I exit the building there was a person lodged against the side of the building holding their side and quietly groaning in pain. I placed my steak down and quickly came to help them. I tried to shake them, but by that point they were unresponsive. Before I knew it the patrolmen had spotted the blood on my shirt and the blood on the body and thought I murdered them. I may be many things but a murderer is not one of them. I simply wanted to provide me and my brother with a nice dinner, and now I’m in court over a misunderstanding. Please, Your Honor and Your Majesty, deliver an understanding verdict.”

Silence overtook the room once more as you sat down.

“Wow, Mx. __, that was truly fantastic!” the archon cheered as she lightly clapped. “I have seen many trials today, but this is by far one of my favorites! The way you spin it is a wonder.”

Your brows furrowed before the chief justice spoke, “Thank you, Mx. __. Please give us time to deliberate.”

Confusion and creeping fear filled you as the justice and archon left to the chamber behind them. The bailiff did not speak or move even upon their return a surprising ten minutes later.

“We have reached a verdict.” the justice voiced.

“Not guilty!” the archon cheered.

Relief was evident on your face, but she quickly picked up on it.

“However…” she started, as the justice side-eyed her curiously.

“Since your brother is sentenced to twenty-five years at the prison’s factory, you’ll be all alone. So, we’ve decided to send you to Orphelinat de la Fleuve Sinueux!”

Dread filled you upon hearing your brother’s sentence. He would be wasting away in the product of industrialization that is slowly deteriorating the nation. The people were paying the price for the deceit of living a higher life with better technology and instead of doing anything about it, those in power like the two in front of you left them to solve everything.

Indignation shone in your gaze as the justice closed his eyes. “You will be sent there promptly at noon today. The bailiff will escort you to your home and the orphanage in the meantime. You are dismissed.”

#and her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest #ahhbshc #coff writes for genshin🍵 #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #fatui arlecchino #fatui harbingers #the knave #focalors #neuvillette genshin #genshin spoilers #fontaine

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter III — Part V

As Jocelyn passed the door of Henrietta’s room, always kept ajar in case she should want to yell for Grandfather in the night, he heard her voice. She wanted assurances that there was nothing under the bed, he supposed, and he went in to give them.

But Henrietta was only talking in her sleep, a habit of hers when over-excited.

“Leaves,” she said. “Yellow and black and pale and hectic red.”

Then there were confused mutterings and then she came out suddenly and clearly with a whole consecutive verse.

“Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth, Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind.”

As he undressed and got into bed the words haunted Jocelyn, and when he drifted towards sleep he thought again of Felicity and of the house in the Market Place. The story of a man’s life was written in it, she had said, and she thought it would be possible to learn how to read the invisible writing.

Thoughts became deep sleep, and sleep the dream that comes before waking, and he was standing in one of the bedrooms at the little house, the big one that looked out over the hills and woods, and staring at the blank wall opposite the window. Words were written on the wall and he was reading them. He read on and on and when he got to the end he knew the story of Ferranti’s life. Then a sudden beam of light swept across the wall, wiping the words away, and he woke up to find Sarah pulling his curtains.

“Wet to-day,” she said. “But we must expect that after all the fine weather we’ve ’ad.”

Jocelyn, sitting up in bed and pouring out his early tea, found that the story he had read in his dream had gone from him. He could not even remember what it had been about. The words of it had been swept away like dead leaves before a wind.

#torminstertravels #literature #booklr #books #adultbooklr #readalong #a city of bells #a city of bells: chapter 3 #elizabeth goudge

[m-jelly]

Chapter 2

Thank you @ladycheesington for the perfect banner

Vampire Levi x fem!reader

Victorian era like world, vampires, secrets, romance, falling in love, vampire lore, sexual tension, possessive Levi, protective Levi.

This chapter: Levi steals you away before Lord Demont can turn up to take you on a date. Levi seeps you off your feet and shows you a perfectly romantic time. You share a kiss, reveal your feelings for each other and then Levi tells you the secrets of the city and that he is a vampire. Fully accepting the truth, Levi whisks you away and tells you how important it is for you to stay close because now you know the secret world, things will be dangerous.

Part 3

The dress hugged your form in a flattering manner. Your aim today was not to woo Lord Demont, but simply amuse him enough that he was satisfied and would leave you alone for some time. Your heart was beating for only one man and it longed to be close to him. Lord Levi was a divine being to you. The way he talked, moved, cared and most of all, gazed at you was electrifying. To kiss his lips would be pure bliss.

A biting autumn breeze rushed by you as you stood in the park. Your gloved hands clutched at your cloak to hold it closer to you. A crimson leaf drifted by your gaze causing you to move your attention to the tree shielding you. The mixing colours of the leaves looked as if the tree was on fire. Though the tree was coming to the end of being full of life, it was so beautiful.

Lord Demont watched you closely as you marvelled at nature changing. Entranced by your beauty, he simply stood there unmoving. To woo you was his goal. He had to think about how to approach you so you would fall for him. He wanted to possess you.

“You look lonely.” A smile spread across Levi’s lips when you shivered at his deep voice right against your ear. He pulled back from you and stepped into view. “Are you waiting for someone?”

You hummed as you tried to remember, but Levi was so captivating. “Umm…oh, Lord Demont said he would take me for lunch.”

Levi pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time before quickly glancing over at a hidden Demont spying on you. “It appears he is delayed by a woman?”

Confusion was etched over your face. “What do you mean?”

“Lucius is well known for sleeping around with many women. He is creating a collection. He’s seeing how many he can be with.”

You released a long sigh. “I figured as much.”

Guilt prickled and stung Levi. He was being truthful, but he knew deep down in his core that he only said it so you would not want to go near Lucius again and only want him. Levi wanted you as his. “I see him not showing up as a good thing.”

You gazed at Levi as he looked over his small round black sunglasses at you. “Oh? Are you proposing we go on a date?”

Levi offered his arm to you. “Indeed I am.”

You took his arm as you softly smiled. “Good. I was hoping so.” The scent rolling off Levi was so inviting and intoxicating to you as you walked together. “We seem to always be meeting each other.”

“You’re right.”

You blushed as he gazed down at you. “Almost makes me think it is either fate or this is being arranged by you.”

He purred a little. “It is up to you to decide.”

“I would like to believe in both. That would mean fate and you want it also.”

He placed his hand on yours that clutched his arm. “You are correct.”

Your cheeks burned. “I umm…”

“You don’t need to return my feelings.” He reached the door of the restaurant he owned. “All I need is your attention and company.” A bell rang when he dragged open the door. The mixture of delicious scents of warm food drifted past the both of you. Levi could smell the hint of blood within them. “I do hope you like this place.” He leaned closer and whispered against your ear. “I own it.”

You entered the clean restaurant with varnished food everywhere, along with soft lighting and stained glass windows. “Well, I will make sure to review this place truthfully and brutally.”

Levi ushered you to a private room as he held back a smile, he was rather enjoying your spark. This feistiness was fun. “I expect nothing less.” He pulled your cloak off. “I will make sure you are treated like a Queen.”

You tugged your gloves off and felt a bit flustered at Levi seeing you in such a tight dress. “You’re too kind.”

Levi stopped and stared a moment. The way your dress gripped your upper body was arousing to him. You were such a stunning being to him. The corset was firmly pressed against your breasts. Your bosom moved with each breath you took. “You look…”

You turned your head to hide your embarrassment. “If I had known you were my date, I would have worn something better. Forgive my attire.”

He softly caressed your cheek with deep affection. “You are stunning. However, you now have me curious as to what you would wear for me.”

You moved closer to Levi. “Request another date and you shall find out.”

“I would love to have another date, but first I must ensure this one goes well.” He pulled a chair out for you. “If I fail you might run and do not want that.”

You sat down and gently smiled. “Thank you.”

He took his seat and gazed at you as his heart fluttered in his chest. “What would you like to eat?”

You picked up the paper menu and admired the careful and delicate writing. You lowered the menu and tapped when you wanted. “These. They sound delicious.”

“A pot of tea also?”

“Please.”

Levi rang a bell and waited for an attendant to come in. He softly spoke to them, it was difficult to hear what he was saying and it was intentional. Being a vampire around someone who did not know about them was hard. Every fibre of Levi’s being wanted to tell you the truth, but he was scared you would run. He wanted to gain some of your heart before he told you what he really was.

Levi hummed in thought. “Do you hold affections towards Lord Demont?”

You thought about the white-haired man who wanted to take you on a date. “No.”

“Do you find him…attractive?”

It was hard to hold back a smile, but you did your best. “Would it upset you if I did?”

A delicate blush consumed Levi’s cheeks. “N-No.”

“I desire the truth, Levi.”

He waited for the attendant to place the drinks down and leave. “Very well. Yes. It would greatly upset me if you found him attractive and wanted him.”

You made your tea and sipped it slowly. Normally you weren’t so confident, but seeing an attractive, kind, smart and caring man like Levi on the edge of his seat was exciting. You smiled at Levi. “No. To most he is, but he isn’t the type of man I would fall for.”

Levi downed his tea mixed with blood. “Tch, you did that on purpose.”

You lightly laughed. “Forgive me.”

He took your hand in his before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “Forgiven. You’re lucky you’re so cute and sweet.”

You stared at Levi’s two slightly sharp teeth. “Your teeth.”

Levi moved his hand over his mouth. “What about them?”

“They’re cute.”

He lowered his hand. “Really?”

You cupped the side of his face and ran your thumb over his bottom lip. “I adore them.”

Temptation got the better of him. Levi playfully nipped your thumb making you squeak in such an adorable way. He released your thumb and smiled at you. “That makes me happy.”

You pulled back when the food was placed down. You noticed Levi’s food was red, which was rather cute and fun. You ate in comfortable silence with smiles on your faces. Levi finished first and made your heart race as he watched you closely. You pulled your gaze away as your body became very aware of him. He moved around you in the room and hummed along to the live music played in the other room.

You moved your plate away before sitting back. “I must say, Levi, your restaurant is incredible. I have never had such a delightful meal before.”

Levi offered his hand to you. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”

You took his hand and stood up before him. “When I heard that you owned many places here, I assumed you would be rather…”

“Egotistical? Understandable seeing as Lucius is.” He pulled you close against him and began dancing with you. “I care not for money and riches. I use most of my money to care for my mother and others.” He twirled you around on the spot. “I would like to spend some on you.” He yanked you close and dipped you. “If you would allow it.”

You gulped hard. “I…well…I am not used to being spoiled.”

Levi held you close as he slowly swayed with you. “Then I shall help you.”

You hummed a laugh. “How sweet.”

“I must ask.” His lips inched closer to yours. “May I take you on another date?”

“Please do. I find you captivating.”

He looked down at your lips. “I find your lips captivating.”

You mewled in delight as you clutched his shirt. “Levi, you set my heart ablaze with your words.”

He tilted his head a little. “I am glad.”

A little gasp escaped you. “Levi.”

“May I kiss you?”

You hummed a little in agreement. “You may.”

There was a slight hesitation, only for a moment as if both were making sure it was okay. When the moment was over your lips connected. A passionate fire burned through the two of you and engulfed you with love and passion. You clung to each other tightly as something inside you both connected and seemed so right. Soft lips moved together as tongues shyly touched. As confidence and love filled your hearts your tongues moved together in a delicate dance. The kiss was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Though this kiss was not yours or Levi’s first, it was certainly the best and most mesmerising kiss you’d ever experienced. It seemed as if the two of you were meant to be together.

Levi released your lips as his fangs tingled. His forehead tapped against yours as you panted together. A deep and lustful growl escaped Levi’s lips. “Forgive me. I got rather heated.”

You shivered under his touch. “I too became heated.”

“I…I have been lying to you.” He pulled back a little. “I must confess before we continue what is between us.”

You held Levi’s hands. “No matter what you tell me, I will still care for you.”

“I…I’m not what I seem.” His eyes darkened as his fangs grew, his voice deepening. “I am a vampire and the man you met in that alleyway who followed you to save you in the park was me. I was feeding on my blood donor and you found me.”

You clutched your chest as you stared at his fangs. The red remains on his plate grabbed your attention for a moment. Everything began falling into place. The coldness of his skin, the dark clothes, the lack of eating and drinking, the knowing where you always were and that he appeared out of nowhere at work seemed to make sense. The man you had fallen for was a blood-drinking being. You had heard the rumours that this city was for the vampires and other beasts at night. It all made sense.

Levi pulled away from you as his heart began to sting. “I frighten you…” Pain filled him as he began to break. The Queen’s wicked and cruel grip on Levi slowly returned. He was beginning to believe her words that he was unlovable. “I disgust you…”

You hurried over to Levi. “No, no that’s not true.” You cradled Levi’s face in your hands. “I am not afraid. I am not disgusted. You have shown me such kindness and care whenever we are together. You had many opportunities to hurt me and yet you never once did. I feel safe with him.”

Levi closed his eyes as we felt tears roll down his cheeks. Never had he met someone so caring and accepting before. His heart was calmed by your touch and words. It was clear to Levi that he should never let you go. Someone like you was rare in his world. Vampires were either met with fear or intense lust and arousal. You were different. You presented love. All wicked words from the Queen vanished and her terrible hold on him went.

He opened his eyes and smiled softly. “You’re too kind.”

“I care for you, Levi. I care for you deeply and romantically. I want to be yours.” You lightly kissed his lips. “To care for you would mean to care for all of you, everything you are.”

He moaned a little. “You are too sweet for your own good.”

“Perhaps.” The tense atmosphere was softened by your sweet giggle. “Is that not one of the reasons you care for me?”

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “You are correct.”

“Levi?”

“Mm?”

Curiosity buzzed inside you. “May I look at your fangs?”

He parted his lips. “Dangerous thing to ask a vampire.” He licked your thumb and delighted in the sound of your racing heart. “You may get more than you bargained for.” He nipped your thumb. “Look away.”

You pushed his top lip up just a little as Levi opened his mouth. You admired his fangs and how sharp and big they seemed. “Does it hurt?” You removed your hands allowing him to speak. “Getting bitten that is.”

He held your hand and grazed his fangs against your skin. “For a moment, but then it’ll feel good. We have a coating on our fangs. The coating makes those we feed on feel incredibly good and slightly aroused.”

“How exciting.” You placed your hands on Levi’s chest as he pulled you closer. “I look forward to the day you feed from me.”

“You are just extraordinary. You show no fear towards me or about knowing the truth of this city.”

You hugged Levi. “Do all vampires come out at night?”

“Yes.” He kissed the side of your head. “Along with other beings. There are pure-blood vampires and some are made vampires. You can tell who are the pure-blooded, as they have power like I do.”

You looked up at Levi. “You’re a pure-blood?”

“I am.” He tilted his head slightly as he observed you. “Your acceptance of this all…”

You hummed in thought. “Well, I suspected that something like that was going on when I first met Lucius. I was warned a lot about the night here. The police would disappear at night. Plus, Mr Callahan tried to get me to work late on purpose.” You lowered your head. “I can’t forget the night I met you also. My fright was seen that night. However, a part of me was calmed by you.”

“Calmed?”

You nodded as your heart fluttered. “Yes. I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel so calm and at peace with you. I hold no fear or worries. I just want to be in your arms, always.”

Levi closed his eyes and held you against his body. He had lived for many long years and he had the kindness of his parents, his wonderful friends and met a few people along the way. However, he had never experienced such love and care as you were giving to him. Anxiety filled him as he thought about the possible dangers you could be in now he’d opened your life to his world. The seedy dark side of the city now had its eyes on you and he had to protect you.

He cupped the side of your face and raised your head. “My darling, I must ask something of you.”

You gazed at him with such a cute sparkle in your eyes. “Yes?”

“This is to keep you safe, not because of other reasons.” He sighed. “I need to give you a bit of my blood so I am connected to you.”

You tilted your head. “May I give you some of mine in return?”

Levi’s cheeks burned. “I uh…well…if…if you want to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

You reached up and touched the collar of your dress. “Well, we would need to go somewhere more private so I can remove some of my dress.”

Levi looked away and groaned. “You…”

You held his hands. “Levi?”

He locked eyes with you. “I shall take you to my manor. It’ll be safe for you. You have never had vampire blood before, so you need to be in a safe place to experience it.”

You nodded. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”

Levi grabbed your cloak and put it around you. “I will get a carriage for us.”

It was all so exciting to be going home with Levi. Life before the city was so simple and boring. Every day was studying or reading a book by the window so you could admire the weather now and then. Since coming to the city you have gained an interesting job, learned about a secret world and found the man of your dreams who could love you for all eternity. You had never been with anyone before, no other man had interested you and yet Let walked into your life and entranced you. He had your heart.

You hugged his arm as you walked with him through the restaurant and outside into the streets to see the sun was beginning to set, meaning you and Levi had been so enamoured with each other that you had talked for hours.

The carriage rattled to a stop and looked rather beautiful compared to the ones you had ridden in before. Inside the carriage, the seats were soft under you when you sat. It was spacious as well, so you weren’t so cramped when you were with someone. However, Levi sat right next to you and that’s exactly what you wanted. The carriage swayed so nicely and lulled you into a sweet comfort.

Levi placed a loving kiss on your forehead. “Are you tired?”

“Mm, no I just feel comfortable and safe around you.”

Levi smiled a little. “I’m glad.” He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly. “Mm. I wish I could hold you forever.”

“Me too.”

He closed his eyes for a while as the carriage took you both to the edge of the city. Thoughts of biting you filled his mind. The thought of feeding from you was arousing to Levi. Levi had fed from women and men before and felt no attraction or arousal, but there was something just so magnetic about you. Levi gulped hard as his mouth watered at the thought. He tried to still his heart and not let his desires for you get the best of him.

Levi opened the carriage door and assisted you out of it. “This is my home.”

You gasped in delight as you saw the dark grand gothic home before you with a stunning garden behind it. “This is a dream home.”

“Thank you.” He led you up to his grand door and opened it to reveal the stunning dark wood inside, the simple chandelier, the beautiful paintings, the wooden floors and the soft-looking carpets. “I will notify my butler and maid of your presence. They’ll get a room ready for you.” He kissed your cheek. “Allow me to take you to the sitting room.”

You couldn’t stop looking around the place, it was just so stunning, welcoming, warm, comforting and homely. You bumped into Levi and blushed a little. “Excuse me.”

He sat you on the sofa and kissed your forehead. “Wait here, my darling.”

You shifted on the sofa as you heard his staff talk about you and stare. You gave them a sweet smile making them giggle and get excited. They weren’t mocking you at all, they were actually excited that their master had finally brought a woman home. It seemed that you were the only woman in Levi’s life.

Levi returned to you and sat at your side. “A room will be prepared for you unless you want to be with me?”

You fiddled with your dress. “I uh…I have never been with a man before.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Really? Someone as sweet and as beautiful as you?”

You giggled. “Levi, you’re too sweet.”

He placed his hand on your thigh and gently squeezed. “I’ll take great care of you, I swear. We’ll take our time as well. Whenever you want me to stop, you tell me and I will.”

You moved closer to him. “I will.”

He reached up to your high collar. “May I?”

“You may.”

He slowly undid the buttons. “I’ve lived for many years and I must say that this time period is odd. I came from a time when women and men wore soft fabrics and silks, but now they cover everything up.”

You hummed a laugh. “It must be exciting to see the world change and develop.”

“It is.” He pushed the top part of your dress open and paused a moment. “All I know now is that I want to watch the world change with you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t ever want to lose you either.”

Levi leaned closer and ran his lips up your neck causing you to softly moan. “I’ll bite you first and then I will heal you with my blood.”

You shivered at his words against your neck. “Mm, yes.”

Levi opened his mouth a little as his fangs grew. He placed delicate and loving kisses on your neck and enjoyed the sweet hum that came from you. He dragged his tongue over where he was going to bite. With a gentle blow of cool air against your neck to arouse you, he parted his lips and bit down on your neck. Blood burst from the wound and flooded into Levi’s mouth. He tangled his fingers into your hair as his other gripped your waist. He pulled you against him and moaned in delight at how sweet you tasted. Levi had drank from others before, but there was something so divine about yours.

Just as Levi had said, the first part of the bite had hurt you but then it became incredibly pleasurable. You clung tightly to Levi as you felt such blissful euphoria from him feeding on you. You moaned and mewled under his touch as you felt lightheaded. You gasped when Levi pulled back from your neck with blood all over his lips and tongue. You shivered when he licked his lips and purred at you.

Levi moaned before cutting his tongue on his fang. “Open your mouth, darling.” As soon as you opened your mouth and crashed his lips against yours and pushed his blood into your mouth. His tongue moved with yours making you shiver in delight. Levi’s heart throbbed in his chest when he felt the two of you connect through the exchange of blood. He pulled back and panted. He smiled as he said your name. “You are something special.”

Your heart fluttered. “Levi.” A tingle went through your body, you felt alive and excited all wrapped into one. Compelled by Levi’s wonderful aura and his blood, you climbed onto his lap and pushed him down on his back on the sofa. “Levi.”

He gazed up at you and began chuckling. He dragged you onto him and tangled his fingers in your hair. “Look at you. You have taken to my blood rather well.” He hugged you tightly. “I am sorry for the strong arousal, but vampire blood is a bit like a drug if you are not used to it.”

You pawed at his body and lightly rolled your body against his. “Levi, please.”

He rolled onto his side with you. “In time, my darling.”

You panted as you felt electrified. You hid your face in the crook of his neck as you felt slight shame at how aroused and needy you were. “Mm.”

“Don’t be saddened.”

You released a sigh. “I am not saddened but slightly ashamed and embarrassed.”

“Tell me why.”

You looked Levi in the eyes. “I have never felt this way before. I want you so badly. I crave you.” You leaned up and panted a little with your chest heaving in your corset. “I want to give you everything. I want to give you all my firsts.”

Levi growled at you. “Do not be ashamed and embarrassed with how you are feeling. I’m feeling the same, but as I said we will take our time.”

You shook a little. “Mm…don’t leave me.”

He held your chin. “Never. I will never leave you.”

You panted a little. “Hot. I’m hot.”

Levi sat up before scooping you up into his arms. “I will help you cool off.” He carried you upstairs and to his room. He sat you on his grand dark brown bed.  

The bed was beautiful beyond words. The headboard was a dark brown wood with intricate carvings and decorations with a central piece. The main part of the bed was large for two people to snuggle on and more. Candles were lit up making a soft glow to show the dark walls with delicate paintings of roses in key parts. A chandelier hung above was lit up by gas lighting, meaning Levi had the latest additions and inventions in his home. Thick curtains were pulled open to show the tall windows that curved at the top. The view outside was the vast gardens that Levi owned.

Levi cupped the side of your face and kissed you. “I will let the maid in to dress you.”

You grabbed Levi’s hand just as he started to leave. “Mm…stay…”

Levi showered your hand in kisses. “My darling, I will be gone for a moment. I will return to you.”

You whimpered once he released your hand. You clutched your chest and felt a yearning inside you for you to be with Levi again. You gently smiled at the maid as she removed your clothes and dressed you in a light and soft nightdress. She let your hair down to show how soft and long it was. You forgot about the need within you for Levi when she started combing your hair and instantly relaxed.

The maid let you go and softly smiled. “My lady, I have never known my Lord to be so happy before. You are the first woman he has ever brought here. It makes us all so happy.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I’m glad I make him happy. He makes me happy as well. I understand we have just started our love, but I cannot wait for it to continue for eternity.”

“I am sure you both will be together forever.” She bowed to you. “Excuse me. I will get my Lord.”

You clutched your dress as you felt excited again. “Thank you.”

She moved to the door and opened it to reveal Levi had been waiting outside this whole time. “My Lord, she is ready. I will leave you both be.”

Levi entered the room and closed the large door after the maid. He turned to you and blushed hard. “You…you’re…” He moaned your name as he moved closer. He reached over and caressed your cheek making you weak instantly. “So divine.”

You leaned into his touch. “Thank you.” You wobbled on your legs. “Levi.”

He caught you in his arms as you became weak for him. “I have you.” He scooped you up and said your name sweetly. “I have you.” He kissed you and moaned in delight. “You need to rest.”

You clung to Levi as he lay you on his bed under the covers. “Will you be joining me?”

“Indeed I will, but I must change.”

You clung to the sheets tightly as Levi moved behind a screen to change in his night things. You perked up once he walked out. You were in shock at first because most men wore a night dress like you, but Levi was only in trousers. “Levi.”

He closed his curtains before climbing into bed with you. “Now we have exchanged blood, you are mine. Now and forever.”

You snuggled against Levi. “It is hard to believe this all sometimes. I don’t think I want to leave.” You whimpered. “I do not want to go back to work for Mr. Callahan. I want to stay with you.”

Levi kissed your forehead. “That is only the blood talking. After resting a while you’ll think differently.”

“No.”

Levi hummed a laugh as he played with your hair. “No?”

“Mm. I want to stay with you.”

Levi released a long sigh. “I hope you feel and say the same when we wake up.”

“I will.”

He held you tightly. “Well, that sounds wonderful. Now, sleep.”

You gazed up at him. “I desire a kiss.”

Levi pressed his lips against yours and moaned in delight as he enjoyed the spark between the two of you. He nipped your lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth and moaning in pleasure as you both shared a passionate kiss together. He tugged on your lip a little at the end and chuckled. “Sleep.”

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[matcha-kathrin]

STRANGERS - Chapter 3

Summary: You meet the stranger. Again. Two times was silly, but now three times? And of all places, you really had to meet in a laundromat in the dead of night. Although, something is changing, You fear you might no longer be strangers, after all. 

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader. 

Notes/Warnings: Eyyyy no warnings, just a lot of deep talks and slight fluff. I say fluff but these two have basically just touched hands like ONCE so. I did put a bit of characterization onto the reader I hope ya’ll don’t mind, it’s for story sake. Also by now im fully convinced the reader is just blind cuz there is no way you wouldn’t recognize Pedro right away. Humor me though.

Word Count: 3.5k

Please read Part One and Part Two before proceeding.

~*~

STRANGERS - Chapter Three

 The one thing you hated about living in New York was how hard it was for apartments to come with washers and driers. Now you weren’t picky, a washer by itself would’ve been enough, but not having either? It was hell. Mostly because you had to walk down the street from your apartment to the closest laundromat there was, pray that not all the machines were occupied, and that by some miracle your clothes didn’t get ruined halfway through the wash. You hated laundry day.

Or more like night. You were hauling your big plastic grocery bag filled with all of your dirty clothes over your shoulders, the slightly chilly air making you see your breath clearly in front of you. You didn’t mean to lose track of time but as soon as you clocked out from your day job the sun was nowhere to be seen and dinner time had passed. And if you didn’t wash your clothes before the day was well and gone…you’d be ruined. Your fate may very well be hanging in the balance.

It was quite funny actually, as you made your way clumsily through the street you saw the yellow sign of your usual laundromat and you were filled with comfort. Your mom used to tell you how laundromats were a place where you were destined to meet people. Other people just like you, who were broke or had no washer, who were just trying to get by in such a big, lively city as this. Or maybe it was a place where you were destined to waste two hours of your time waiting for your clothes to get washed, only for them to freeze in the night air on your way back home.

Maybe she was right, you had always thought that the most mundane places held beauty within them, that any story could begin in a dull, brightly lit laundromat. Maybe it was the hour and maybe you were a bit sentimental but there was something magical about how the blinding light shone out of the windows and onto the damp street as you approached. The empty benches inside making you ease up, at least you didn’t have to deal with spending two hours meeting people as your mom romanticized you would. There was something about the contrast from the windows and the dark streets that held a suspense in the air. As if once you’d click on the machine time would stop, the songs playing in your headphones the only proof of time passing. And for a moment, a brief, eternal moment you’d be the only person in the world. Alone. Sitting in a laundromat.

As you opened the door, struggling to get in with the huge bag on your shoulders the bell that hung above you rung, signaling your entrance. Why a self-service laundromat even had a bell was beyond you.

Unfortunately, the sound was ultimately what ruined your expectations for the night. Because for some crazy reason you weren’t alone. And as soon as the bell had rung the head you saw peaking from behind one of the rows of washing machines looked up. You had to double take.

“No fucking way.” You spoke, the silence that had engulfed the small self-service store broken by your disbelief “Are you stalking me?” You asked as you looked at the all too familiar stranger with concern.

He looked at you from under his…again his sunglasses and squinted, as if he couldn’t make out your face from the other side of the cramped room. Once he did realize who you were his brows lifted, also looking completely and utterly dumbfounded.

“Are you stalking me?” he countered.

“This is my laundromat!”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” You sighed, dragging your overflowing bag until you reached one of the tables, lifting it up in a huff and letting it fall with a low thud. “What are you even doing here at this hour?”

“My washer broke, what are you doing here at this hour?” The way he repeated your questions with a small smirk irked you, but then again you were glad it was him and not some other strange man. Of course, the one standing in front of you in what looked like his pajamas wearing those godforsaken glasses was looking stranger by the second. But even with his ridiculous clothing and his even messier hair you couldn’t help the feeling that settled in your stomach when you locked eyes.

There had to be something wrong with you. You thought the second time you spoke not even a week ago was just a silly coincidence. A beautiful silly coincidence in which you wished you had stayed longer, but as you recalled it a small feeling of anxiety settled in you. If you had stayed then the night would have ended differently. Very differently. The mere thought of it making you shudder.

These coincidences were getting a bit too numerous for it not to be weird. Then again he did look like a man who’s washer had broken.

“I happen to not own a washer, thank you very much.” You answered finally, looking at him with suspicion, as if he had planned this whole encounter all along.

“Don’t look at me like that my washer really did break! In the middle of a cycle too, I couldn’t just leave dirty wet clothes laying around the house.” He laughed nervously; he was probably worried you actually thought him to be a stalker. Little did he know you were very good at reading people, you knew he wasn’t ill intentioned. You could tell by his absolute puzzled look he had on his face when you walked it. That or maybe because you noticed the slight glee that came afterwards when he realized it was you.

He watched you pull out your clothes and stuff them in what seemed to be the cleanest washer there was, as you hummed, unconvinced by his plea. “I suppose. But I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“No complaints from me.” He smiled, but when you sent him a look it just dropped, and he averted his gaze.

You really didn’t mean to be so defensive, but it was really late, and the whole situation was really weird.

“What about you?” he asked after a moment, and you sighed again.

“I told you I don’t have a washer.”

“And you had to wash your clothes tonight did you?” He arched his brow, this time he was the one who was unconvinced. You pursed your lips, if only he knew why you so desperately needed to get this done. The reason for your nightly adventure happened into your hand then, a beautiful dress, one that was gifted to you. He noticed the way you hesitated when you pulled it out and saw how fast you threw it in the washer with the rest of your clothes.

“That looks pretty, is that why you need to wash your clothes so desperately?” He chuckled, you hadn’t noticed he had gotten closer until he sat on the bench next to you, looking up at you in interest.

“No.” You replied quickly, then huffed “Yes I – I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“Me. Being here at this hour, trying to wash a stupid dress I probably won’t even get to wear.” You didn’t realize just how much the whole thing disturbed you, and your dear stranger was looking at you so utterly confused. If he could’ve chosen the worst moment to come to your laundromat, it was this. You were probably on the verge of breakdown; but you’d be damned if you’d let anyone, let alone him, see.

“When were you going to wear it?” His voice was soft, not amused by your little fit of emotions but almost…concerned? It was warm as it rung low, and somehow you had instantly felt better. Or worse, you couldn’t decide.

“Tomorrow night. I have…” You hesitated, looking at him as if choosing your next words carefully “an event to attend. I was going to get it washed properly but I lost track of time, knowing my luck it’ll probably get ruined halfway through the wash.” You placed the rest of the clothing inside the machine and shut it well, inserting the coins and detergent it needed and then pressed the button to start it up.

Then you plopped down next to him, not caring if you were sitting a tad bit too close to the stranger, a distance no two strangers would ever sit at. He just watched you as you did.

“I’ll just wear something else. It’s not that important.”

“It sounds important.” He nudged, his words letting you know you could find solace in speaking with him. You smiled tiredly.

“It’s just a hobby. I shouldn’t even get so worked up about it.”

“A hobby can still be important.” He mused.

“Not if you’re like me. Not if you need to have infinite things to do or else you feel completely meaningless.” You exaggerated, even though it was mostly true. He just chuckled, looking at your frustrated expression with affection.

“All my life they told me I had to pick one thing. One thing to do the rest of my life and be satisfied with it. Concentrate on one thing if you want to be successful.” You continued, his smile slowly fading as he heard the bitter tone you had.

“Who told you?”

“Anyone. Everyone. But did I listen? Of course not, I just had to move here and believe I could have it all, work on anything I desired and somehow be good at all of it. The best even.”

He hummed, his shoulder slightly brushing against yours as you let your head rest on the back of the window looking out to the street, the red bench was worn and uncomfortable under you. You could even see the paint chipping at its edges. Although somehow with him by your side, it felt like the most comfortable place on earth.

“Sounds like you’re ambitious. That’s one more thing I know of you now.”

“That and that I don’t own a washer. Or a drier.” You scoffed.

“Well at least you know mines broken. That makes us even.”

“I feel better already.” You quipped sarcastically, he nudged your shoulder playfully when you did, making you smile.

“I don’t think it’s wrong you know, doing many different things. I- I’ve done a lot of different things too.” He added almost shyly, and you turned your head to look at him, surprised by his sudden bashfulness.

“Are you any good at them?” You asked almost by default. He didn’t seem like the type to be ambitious, then again you didn’t really know what he seemed like.

“I- yeah. I am.” He sounded unsure, his words truthful but as his eyes met yours he squinted slightly, as if he couldn’t quite understand something. You just frowned. Choosing to ignore the exceedingly small distance between you.

“Well at least one of us is.” You sighed.

“Do you really not know who I am?” The question falling from his lips even before he could catch himself, your brows furrowed. And you remembered once again just how familiar he looked.

“I don’t think so, am I supposed to?”

“Not necessarily.” It was his turn to sigh, his shades dropped loosely on his nose couldn’t hide the fact he seemed almost…disappointed?

“Do you know who I am?” You asked, still unsure if he might be stalking you or not. But your very sincere question was met with a bark of laughter.

“I wish. But no, I don’t.” His answer made your heart skip a slight bit faster, he wished he knew you? Or maybe he wished you were exactly as you appeared to be. Expectations could be a dangerous thing.

“So, what is this hobby that’s got you so down? Doesn’t sound like a good one.”

“It’s not the hobby that is the problem,” You chuckled finally, feeling the heat that had rose to your cheeks slightly subside “it’s the fact I can’t dedicate as much time to it as I’d want.”

He waited patiently for you to continue, even though you had hoped he’d let the question drop. For strangers’ sake and all that. But you were too tired and, just as you suspected, time seemed to stand still in the brightly lit laundromat. If you sat still enough you could hear the light buzz of the lamps illuminating the both of you. They never flickered but the sound made you think that at any moment the light would just go out. And you’d be there, in the dark, sitting awfully close to the stranger until your shoulders touched. Feeling the heat emanating from him pass on to you. The line you both had chosen not to cross the only thing keeping you both in your place. But you wondered if in the dark you’d risk it all, maybe in the darkness you’d feel less accountable, less exposed. Maybe you had already crossed the line a while ago, you weren’t really sure when.

“I- it’s a student film screening. It’s some sort of small film festival that’s gonna be held tomorrow night.”

“You study film?” He seemed surprised, you laughed nervously at his question.

“No…I actually- am in it.” You admitted shyly, your hands rubbing on your knees as you pulled them to your chest, you don’t know why but every time you admitted you acted on the side it sounded so stupid. But you loved it, even if it was just a hobby you dedicated little to no time in.

“You’re in the film? You act?” He sounded so astonished you had to lift your head from its resting position and look at him curiously.

“Yeah? I mean, I just dabble in it.” You shrugged, “Stupid isn’t it?”

“No, of course not! It’s good to have hobbies like that.” He reassured, you felt the small knot in your stomach loosen as he did, you don’t know why but his approval seemed important to you. Even if you didn’t know his name. It was comforting, that much you knew.

“I guess,” you lulled, not convinced but much more at ease that he didn’t laugh at you “I guess I just…feel like if I don’t do things I won’t matter. I’m terrified that if I try my hardest I still won’t be good enough. I’m terrified that if- that if I don’t give my life a meaning then there’s no point to all of-” You stopped, looking around yourself, word failing to meet your thoughts “this.”

“And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m wrong to think I can be satisfied only by pursuing whatever fool-hardy thing that pops into my head, but what should I do? Not try?” You continued after a moment. And you worried you said too much. You worried that no matter how you twisted the words around your sentiment you would never get it across. The feeling in itself was not something you could explain, it was nothing and everything. It was an overwhelming desire for everything and nothing. You weren’t even sure what you wanted in the first place.

His gaze had softened as you rambled, he didn’t see you as the type to get so lost in questions of meaning or importance. In fact, when he had met you in the two separate bars you seemed like the only person who knew your place, enjoying the vibrance of the lives all around you. Yet here you were, spilling so much uncertainty he couldn’t help but look at you with sullen eyes. How he wished he could comfort you, but to you he was no one, and he liked that he meant nothing to you, but hated it at the same time.

“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” He cited, and you hummed. Your thoughts dying down and blurring with the sounds of the machines. “Who said that?”

“Can’t remember. But it’s true. If you’re afraid that what you’re doing is wrong you’ll never get to where you need to go. I think it’s amazing when someone can wake up each day and reinvent themselves, and who said you can’t? Whomever it was only knows what they have lived, and if they’ve lived a life doing one thing then good for them, but that doesn’t mean you have to.” You looked at him as he finished, as if you couldn’t really believe he was there. He was the first person who told you anything of the sort. The first to say you didn’t have to do what everyone else was doing if you didn’t want to. It made you want to keep him there, with you. You wanted to hear his low voice whisper into your ear all night. Feel his hands feverishly caress your skin.

But you pushed the feeling aside.

“The world is your oyster.” You snorted, and he huffed out a laugh alongside you, nodding. It was funny, but you didn’t really know when you had reached the point where you two could joke after spilling intense thoughts about life. But maybe that’s what it had always been from the start. Just two strangers contemplating notions they would rather share then keep to themselves, only to tease and joke about it after. Maybe it was a way to cope with the fact that you’ll never have the answers. You’ll never know if what your doing is right or wrong, and maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn’t need to know. Maybe just existing, in this space as time seem suspended, next to a stranger in an empty laundromat was enough. For the first time, you felt okay simply existing.

“Can I come?” He asked finally, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the machines. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, your eyes following the swirling of the washer in front of you, until he spoke, and they snapped to his.

“What?”

“Can I come- to the event. Tomorrow night.”

You looked at him incredulously, this was uncharted territory, and it was making your heart pick up in your chest. “I don’t even know if I’m going. My dress will probably still be drying by tomorrow night.”

“I bet you it’ll dry in time.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes in amusement.

“Oh yeah? What’re we betting then?” You whispered, leaning in slightly. You could’ve sworn his eyes had lowered for a moment to your lips. But when you blinked they were looking straight into your eyes again. You must’ve imagined it.

“Hmm…” He clearly pretended to think about it for a moment, turning his head and placing a finger on his chin in thought. For some reason you knew already what he was going to say.

“If your dress is dry by tomorrow nights’ event- you’ll tell me your name.”

You froze. You knew it was coming yet you did nothing to stop it. Maybe you didn’t want to, because the way he gazed at you while your brain processed the bet was enough to convince you. Maybe it would be different, this time. Maybe you didn’t have to play a game just to keep things interesting. Not everything had to be, and certainly not with him. He was always there in the perfect moments, the perfect encounters. It was like meeting someone that had nothing to do with you and talk as if you had known each other forever. Granted you did most of the talking, he tended to just sit there and tease.

You didn’t mind. And you didn’t think he did either.

“Fine. But if my dress is not dry by then I win, and you’ll have to tell me yours.”  

He didn’t answer, just shrugged, and extended his hand for you to shake. You lifted yours and clasped it gently around his, once again relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours. You’d never figure out why he had that effect on you. He just did.

After you shook hands gently, competing in one of your many staring contests, you both shared a moment of comfortable silence looking at the two washers moving out of sync in front of you, one with his clothes, one with yours.

“You’d really come to see my film?” The way you asked, your voice full of disbelief, made his heart break a little.

“Of course.” He answered, never meaning something so much as he did then. You weren’t looking at him, and he wasn’t looking at you, but he could see the small smile that had formed on your lips from the corner of his eyes. No matter what it took he was going to that event, and if he could, he’d win the bet.

Even if it was utterly out of his control.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #x reader #fluff #pedro pascal fluff #flirt #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal fanfiction #matcha kathrin #matcha kathrin writing #writing #reader insert #x you #javier pena x reader #narcos

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Another Day in Paradise- Chapter 1

Pairing: Eventually Alastor x OFC, later- Alastor x ofc x Lucifer Rated: E for eventual smut Content warnings: It's Hazbin Hotel- this feels redundant. Sex, eventual smut, referenced implied suicide to be discussed in more detail later, drugs, drinking, poor coping, toxic behavior, controlling behavior, cannibalism, idk, it's fucking Hazbin Hotel, if it's worth a content warning it's probably going to come up at some point?

AN: Coping with mental heal spirals with new fandom crack? Fuck yes we are. Did I think I was over simping for cartoons at 33? Also fuck yes, but here we are. Idk how long this will be but hey, it'll get finished eventually if there's interest in it. I'm playing some with the timeline, starting off prior to season 1 and we're running through it.

Chapter 2

Summery: Amber hated her life but she smiled and took what it gave her. She had tried to be a good Christian wife. She tried to give the to God everything he was due. She tried to be devoted enough. She tried to survive the cult she was raised in. She tried until the day she couldn't try anymore and then, she had hoped to never have to try again.

Instead of an eternal sleep as her punishment for not trying hard enough, she woke in the very place she had been taught was a lie fed by false Christians- Hell. With her body changed, her resilience gone and no way to get her feet under her in her new afterlife, she pulled herself up the hill to the newly renamed Hazbin Hotel, tail between her legs and without anything to offer in exchange for mercy and charity.

Could the safety of the hotel provide her what she needs to finally blossom? And what, if anything, could she blossom into? And why is Alastor interested? And what role could she fill for the King of Hell himself?

~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~<3

Amber opened her eyes, which was something she shouldn’t be able to do. It was supposed to be over. Everything was supposed to be over. It was supposed to have ended. So why was she still alive? 

Sounds flooded her ears as she regained her faculties. That was another thing she was never supposed to do again. Yelling, screaming, explosions, engines and the simple sounds of city life which made no sense. She didn’t live in a city, she lived in bum fuck rural ass no where and more pressingly, she was dead. Or she should have been. 

That was something she had personal seen to, for fucks sake. 

“Good, you’re awake.” A voice that was soft as velvet spoke from a distance. The voice sounded like bells, musicale. 

“Where am I?” She pushed herself up against the wall. 

The room she was in looked to be abandoned, a thick layer of dust covered the ground and trash had gathered in the corners. There was an open exterior door, giving way to what looked like a busy street and the source of the trash. Next to her was a golden office door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years. Another wall housed a closing elevator door. 

It was from the elevator that the voice seemed to come. 

“For your sins, you’ve been sentenced to an afterlife in hell. Sorry, that sucks.” 

“What?” 

~~~~~<3

That was how her first day in hell went. She had woken up, dumped on a dirty old office floor with a tank top and cargo pants that didn’t belong to her. She didn’t even have shoes on her feet. 

It took less than a month for her to end up exhausted in front of the hotel that promised to rehabilitate sinners. Amber didn’t know if she wanted to ascend to heaven but she did know she wasn’t going to survive on the streets of Pentagram City for much longer. 

She was weak. she was tired. Her body was starved. In her short time in hell she had learned that she like many of her fellow residents, didn’t have fuck all for powers and no way to defend herself. Unlike many of the others however, she struggled to find the fight to gain a foothold. 

After spending a lifetime being told to be smaller, meeker, and weaker, she simply had no bite to her. No one wanted to hire a girl who was too timid to keep their shop from being robbed. No one would rent a flat to a girl who couldn’t manage the income to afford food, let alone the rent. 

Sleeping on the streets, on benches and in whatever alley she could find provided little rest. More often than not she’d wake with a start, hands on her. When she was lucky, they’d just take what little things she had managed to acquire. Other things it was her body itself they wanted. 

Those that bothered her were so much like her though, weak. Powerless. Timid. Easy to frighten. She easy target for them when she was asleep but as soon as she woke, like cockroaches they would scatter. It was better to not sleep.

Refocusing on the present, she took a deep breath and tried to gather the courage she needed. Her heart was in her throat as she stood at the door. 

In life, you didn’t knock on hotel doors and wait to be let in. It was weird. This was weird. She had almost convinced herself to walk back down the hill when the door opened. 

“Hello~” The tall woman swept the door open with such cheer and energy, attention focusing on Amber in a instant. “Are you here for a chance at redemption?” 

“I don’t know.” Amber answered reflexively, honestly. She had heard tell of how kind the Princess of Hell was but being faced with the first ounce of kindness in her afterlife left her speechless and feeling the urge to run just as much as she would have if faced with aggression. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

The Princess watched her as she turns to leave and though Amber couldn’t explain it, it was like a switch flipped in the tall woman. The kindness and warmth remained but it subdued as she took in Amber’s appearance. 

The Princess’s eyes took stock of the girl in front of her. She was wearing much the same clothes she would have arrived in hell in, if not the very same- it was near standard issue. The girl outside the hotel looked simply rough, hair dirty and tangled. 

“Are you alright?” Amber flinched as the Princess reached out, snagging her fingers. Amber jerked away from the contact on reflex, sure she was going to be hurt. 

“I don’t- I’m not- redemption isn’t for me.” She settled as she backed away a few more steps.”

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Stepping outside of the hotel, the Princess allowed the door to close behind her before she continued. Amber didn’t know it at the time but she was seeing something few had gotten the chance to see- Princess Charlotte caring for one of her people, not Charlie the over energetic dreamer. 

“I’m Charlie. It looks like you’ve had a rough start to your life here. I’m sorry for that. Mom used to have staff that greeted new sinners, helped them find their feet but Dad- He’s fallen away from that. It makes for a rough landing, I bet. Why don’t you come in?” 

~~~~~<3

The princess of hell was in possession of a bleeding heart that made her eager to collect the stray fox regardless of her weak protests at the door.

The reality was, Amber didn’t have the strength to offer much protest at all, though she did try. Trusting in theory was a lot less scary than trusting in reality, she discovered as the Princess dragged her inside the hotel. There were eyes on her as she walked, head down and shoulders slumped but Amber didn’t dare face them. Bitter tears stung at her eyes.

Charlie led her through the halls and to a room to call her own. It was a modest room, though mainly at Amber’s insistence. She had no money to pay for her stay, no hope for redemption and nothing to offer. She wouldn’t take a nice room that they could give to someone better deserving.

“Stay as long as you want. All I ask in return is that you help or participate, even if you don’t think anything will come of it.” Charlie said, as she stood just inside the room. 

“Why?” Amber hated that her eyes stung with emotion she didn’t want to name. “Why are you letting me stay?”

“Because you came for help and this place; it’s about helping people. Clean up, take some time for yourself and when you’re ready, come down. We have dinner at six, if you want you’re welcome to join. You’re safe here.” 

~~~~~<3

Amber didn’t have anything to store in her room. It wasn’t like she could unpack to kill time. She’d have to make do with what she had been ever so generously provided, and she would, without complaint. 

The bed called to her. She was so tired. The call of the shower, of being clean was stronger though. She wouldn’t dirty the bed with the mess that was her clothes, hair and body. 

Dragging herself to the bathroom, she stripped and started washing out her clothes in the bathtub. Dirt, blood and god knows what else dislodged from the fabric while she did the best she could to clean it. It was disgusting.

It was humiliating but she reminded herself that this wasn’t the first time she had washed her laundry in a bathtub. It wasn’t as uncommon as it should have been in her living life. It wasn’t like she had another option, anyway. She didn’t have any other clothes.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock at her room door. “Hold on!” Amber called, searching for something to cover herself with. 

“It’s me again.” Charlie’s voice came through the door, “Can I come in?” 

Amber wrapped a towel around her and left the soaked clothes in the bottom of the tub where they made a dirty puddle of water as she made her way to the door. Opening it, she peeked out at the tall woman. 

“I brought you a change of clothes.” She said, passing the bundle to Amber. “They’re some of my girlfriend’s old stuff, she doesn’t really wear them anymore and she’s shorter than me so they’ll fit you better than anything I have. I hope that’s okay?” 

“Why?” Amber could feel the way her ears sagged, nearly flat against the crown of her head. 

“It’s okay.” Charlie smiled down at the little fox demon, so beaten down by the world she was sentenced into. How could someone so meek and timid manage enough sin to end up down here? “I want to help you.”

Amber nodded, shoulders sagging as she tried to will the burning from her eyes. 

“What’s your name?” Charlie asked as she rested her hand on a bare shoulder, softly rubbing while she watched the girl try to hold herself together. 

“Amber.” Her voice was hardly more than a whimper.

“Do you want a hug, Amber?” 

Amber nodded weakly and stepped into the Princess of Hell’s embrace. Charlie’s arms wrapped around her and held her tight. Amber nuzzled her head under Charlie’s chin as the tall woman stroked her hand down the waves of red hair. 

At first, Amber didn’t realize she was crying. She hadn’t had a chance to grieve until now, the life she had lived and all that she had lost. When death encroached on her, she had thought it was over and she could rest. 

Sobs ripped through her chest as she clung to Charlie’s jacket, trusting the towel to stay in place where it was tucked into itself. Amber grieved for the life she had lived and the sins she had committed. She cried for the bodies she saw ripped apart in the streets over the last few weeks. Her shoulders shook with the power of her grief until the tears finally tapered off, soothed away by the soft weight of the Princess’ hand running down the length of her hair. 

“Go get yourself a hot shower, okay? Throw out those ‘welcome to hell’ issued spawn clothes. I don’t know how long you’ve been here but you can start your life over. You can have happy days in hell.” Charlie spoke softly, glancing down the hall and locking eyes with her worried girlfriend before returning her attention to the small girl in her arms. Amber hadn’t realized she never let the woman in, instead stepping out in just a towel. 

“Okay.” Amber sniffled before forcing a smile that felt as weak as it was forced. “I’m sorry for crying on you. So much for everyone being tough in hell.” 

“It’s okay. It’s hell, not everyone’s big bad and tough but everyone is broken.” Charlie smiled down at her and couldn’t resist resting her hand on Amber’s head, fingers stretching between the soft ears. 

~~~~~<3

Soaked clothes were left to drain in the sink while Amber sat in the tub under the burning spray of hot water. Pain, lovely sweet pain she could control filled her senses as she continued to grieve. She had thought she had run out of tears in the Princess’ arms but she had found a new well to tap when the hot water hit her skin. 

Eventually, the tears stopped and she pulled herself off the floor. Mechanically she used the complementary soaps to wash her body. Washing her hair was a struggle, she accidentally sent water and suds into her ears more than once. It wasn’t a great experience but it did manage to shake her out of her sadness and replace it with indignant annoyance. 

“How the fuck do I do this?!” Amber grumbled to herself, pinching an ear between her fingers and pulling it painfully down, trying to block the water from entering the stupid tall ear while trying to rinse suds from the fur and hair around it. 

It took a her a moment to decide what was the proper thing to wash a tail with, a debate that felt surreal. Did you wash a fur covered body part with shampoo or a body wash bar? Dogs were washed with shampoos, she decided, so that was what she would use but God above, she’s never felt so uncertain on how to clean her body in her life. 

It felt weird to her still, to touch her tail. The changes her body had undergone upon her death were strange but easy enough to forget about as long as she didn’t touch them or look at them too long. She could pretend her nails were just freshly manicured for Halloween into claws. While running, hiding and scavenging, it was easy to not see herself and forget about the new form of her body. 

This was the first time she had a chance to come to terms with the changes. It was also the first the she had no choice but to acknowledge them. Still, it was weird. 

In a way, she was thankful all in all. She’d seen imps that look more like monsters and people that looked like massive bugs. She’d seen ogres and people that looked more beast than man. There were people with more than two arms or legs, only one eye or far more than two eyes. Things walked the streets covered in scales and fur and yet she looked oh so similar to what she had in life. 

Why was that? Why did she seem to look so human? Amber wasn’t sure there was a rhyme or reason to anything in hell. 

She squeezed the water out of her tail after wringing out her hair. This was the most she had handled her tail since realizing it existed. Thick dark red fur ran down the length until it gave way to white at the tip. The fucking thing could hold a lot of water in all that fur, that was for sure. When it was wet, it was heavy and uncomfortable.

Wrapping herself in a towel and stepping out of the tub, she prepared to properly face her reflection for the first time. Glimpses in mirrors, glass and puddles had been the most she had braved looking until now. 

There wasn’t a reason to put herself through that stress while trying to survive in a world of monsters. She’d seen people stabbed to death and some man with a dog’s head step over the still warm body as if it was nothing. 

Now she was safe. Or at least, Charlie said she was and it seemed like she could be trusted. What a world Amber had woken up in, where she drags herself to the devil’s daughter’s hotel for charity. And gets it! 

A giggle at the thought threatened to spill from her throat. It was misplaced, a reaction to stress and anxiety. Wiping off the steam from the mirror as the giggle died down, she took a deep breath and faced herself. 

In life, her skin had been olive and kissed by the sun. Now she looked washed out, pale as a corpse. That was a common skin tone, she had noticed in the last few weeks. Everyone looked pale as the dead if their skin wasn’t covered in fur, even those with darker skin tones were washed out and ashen.

Curly brown hair had been replaced by bright red waves. The eyes that looked back at her should have been rich chocolate brown and instead they were inhumanly green. That wasn’t the only inhuman feature about her. Her face was more angular and her teeth sharp points in her mouth. 

On top of her head sat tall red ears, tipped with black. She watched as they twitched, seeming to communicate her curiosity. It reminded her of how the husky she had as a child would express himself with his ears, always flicking and flattening to tell his mood. It wasn’t something she was very good at controlling but she found she could intentionally move them. 

It was weird. Lifting the hair at the side of her head, she looked at where her ears should have been. It wasn’t just that the ears were missing, the hairline was shifted, going to her neck in a smooth curve rather than dipping back around where the ear would have been. 

Weird. This was so fucking weird. 

She was just thankful looking at herself in the mirror didn’t add much to her trauma or make herself vomit. It was more of a curiosity than anything. The woman looking back at her was so much like herself and yet in every way, wrong. 

She had no bra but thankfully her new body didn’t come equipped with a particularly sizable bust. She would have liked the support and security of a bra for the normalcy the feeling would have provided but beggars and all that shit. The shirt was long and thin, a pretty basic tee shirt that was almost a dress, reaching to her upper thighs.

That was good because Amber didn’t know if these clothes were to keep or to be returned. She tried stuffing her tail in the pants but decided quickly that it didn’t work. There wasn’t a way to fold it up so the pants could rest where they should have. 

It was painful to try. 

The pants were very much like leggings and she rolled the top down so it rest low on her hips. 

“Welcome back to the 2000s,” Amber mumbled to herself as she looked at how dangerously low the pants sat. This allowed the pants to sit so that her tail could hang out overtop. 

It wasn’t comfortable but if she stuck her tail out a good bit but it worked. 

#alastor x oc #hazbin alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin fanfic

[maladaptivewriting86]

Welcome Home - September Ch1

Eddie Munson x Reader, friends to lovers, slow burn

Also posted on ao3! This is part 1!

Summary: Reader has moved to a new city/state every few months since she was born. She shows up to Hawkins in '85 having to repeat her senior year after learning nothing last year due to changing schools 3 times.

Eddie is repeating his senior year as well, lucky for him. He meets reader in class two weeks into the year and is immediately drawn to her due to her I-don't-care attitude and her Metallica t-shirt.

The two hang out often, studying, drinking, smoking, and healing their respective traumas. But how long does reader have before her dad announces that they're packing up and leaving Hawkins forever, leaving Eddie and the new friends she's made behind forever?

Reader uses she/her pronouns but is non-binary. The term didn't exist in the 80s so she describes it as "I'm only vaguely a girl, you shouldn't really think of me as one."

Reader is AFAB, there will be references to anatomy (smut), but for the most part, she's not really "girly".

AU, the upside down doesn't exist, Eleven and Will aren't mentioned (sorry).

CW for this chapter: mentions of parents with substance abuse issues

AN: This is absolutely just self-insert for me but I really like it and maybe it will be relatable to a small number of people or just entertaining, I don't know. But thanks for reading either way!

I'm planning on each chapter being somewhere between a day to a week of in-story time. Some might be super long and others kinda short, I'm not sure. This is my very first work that I've ever written so I have no idea how its going to work. Each month will have its own chapters (all contained here in this one work) and the story will just kinda flow through the months that reader is in Hawkins. Bear with me, this all might change at some point haha. I have a lot of ideas though as this is literally just my maladaptive daydreams put to paper. Eddie makes my brain melt. Enjoy!

Walking out of the school office with your class schedule in your hand you sigh, taking in the new surroundings once again. This is the eighth high school you've been to in the past four years, and the second time you've been a senior in one of them. After moving three times last year and missing so much of your first senior year, you had to start from scratch in a new school, Hawkins High. Pretty boring to name a school after the city, but you've seen it done so many times that you don't give a shit anymore. Just as long as this is your last one.

The receptionist in the office had pointed you in the direction of your assigned locker and handed you a sticky note with the combination on it. Memorizing the numbers on the gross-yellow paper, you head in the direction she told you to go. 982, 983, 984, 985... 986. That was yours. You stop in front of it and rest your head on the door as you look down and turn the lock in the correct order. You had no faith that this year would be your last, you already accepted that if you couldn't finish high school on your second attempt, then you would just drop out and figure out what to do after that. School is fucking tiring.

The bell rang to signal change of classes and students began to flood the hall. Already missed the first period and study hall, off to a great start. As you pop the lock open and step back a little to open the door, a solid body slams into your side and a book goes sliding down the corridor.

"Hey, watch it freak!" The body yells at you.

You turn to look at who just walked into you. It was a girl with platinum blonde hair in a super high ponytail; a cheerleader uniform; and her tits on full display, absolutely breaking the dress code.

"Sorry, didn't realize you liked to walk with your eyes closed." You grumbled as you rolled your eyes and turned back to your locker, beginning to unload your binders from your bag. She walked into you , that was definitely not your fault.

"What?" She snapped. She took a few steps to the side so that she was right next to you continuing to stare at the side of your face, and at your Metallica shirt, and your ripped black jeans, and dirty shoes. She instantly clocked you as someone who was beneath her so she narrowed her eyes and gave a sickening smile. "Ohhhh... great, another freak to join the freakshow. Just watch yourself okay? And don't get dirt on my uniform." She accented the last line by wiping down the front of her skirt with her hands aggressively a few times before stepping away and bounding down the corridor with her group of friends who looked identical to her, ponytails swishing in unison as they walked. One of them stopped to pick up the book that was dropped and handed it back to who you assume was their leader. All five of them turned to sneer at you before continuing on their way.

"I fucking hate cheerleaders." You thought to yourself as you closed your locker and looked at your schedule again. Your second class was English. An easy enough class, after a bit of a rough start in the hall.

As you entered your classroom you made your way to the desk at the front where the teacher was sitting.

"Hi, I'm y/n. I'm new, I just moved here yesterday and I was told to introduce myself to my teachers when I got to class so... hi." You said quietly to your new English teacher.

"Well hi! I'm Ms. Davies, it's nice to meet you. I'll write your name into the class list. Can I see your schedule?" She seemed way too smiley and chipper for your liking, but at least she didn't seem like she was going to be a hard-ass.

You handed her your schedule and she nodded and confirmed that you were in the right class. She copied your name down on her attendance list and then stood up, handing back your schedule.

"Please don't-" before you could ask her not to, she began announcing your name and welcoming you to the class.

"We have a new student today! Y/fn. Everyone please be kind, she'll be a little bit behind as we've already gotten through two weeks of curriculum but I'm sure she'll catch up quickly!" Smiling, probably very proud of herself for embarrassing you, she turned to you and pointed to an empty pair of seats at the back of the class. "You can take a seat back there... I would say 'next to Mister Munson' but it seems that he won't be joining us again-" just as she said that, a boy with long, curly, brown hair, a denim jacket adorned with pins and patches, ripped jeans, and absolutely no school supplies walked into the class. "Well, never mind. Here he is." She said, a little surprised by this guy's sudden appearance.

Keeping your head down to avoid the stares that you were most certainly receiving, you made your way to the back of the class and sat down in one of the seats Ms. Davies had pointed to.

The long haired boy's eyes hadn't left you since he walked through the door. He also made his way to his seat and sat down just slightly after you. "Metallica fan eh?" He said, nodding to the t-shirt you were wearing.

"Yeah." You said, a little more blunt than you meant for it to sound. "One of my favorites." You added, noting that most of the decor on his vest were metal bands.

"You've got good taste." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, clearly not intending to pay attention to the class.

"Thank you." You said, honestly. "You seem to as well," pointing at one of his pins, you said "Judas Priest is pretty good too."

The boy beamed. He was honestly really cute, especially when he smiled and his dimples were on full display. He squeezed his crossed arms tighter and wiggled a little, obviously a little giddy, and leaned over to you a bit "I like you. I think I'm going to annoy you for the rest of the year." He said with a sort-of-joking-sort-of-not tone.

You let out a soft laugh and smiled back at him. "Sounds good." You replied, somewhat sarcastically, though you also weren't going to say no to gaining a friend immediately. Especially one who seemed to have the same taste as you. 

He extended one of his hands toward you, intending for you to shake it. "My name’s Eddie." He introduced himself smoothly, his name sounded so royal leaving his tongue.

"I'm y/n." You replied, shaking his hand gently. His fingertips were a little rough, he probably played guitar. "I guess you missed when my name was announced to the world by Ms. Davies up there." You let go of his hand and gestured lightly up to the front of the room where Ms. Davies was writing something on the board. Something you're already not learning.

"I did miss that, unfortunately. I'm sure it wasn’t embarrassing at all and everyone was all 'hi y/n! Welcome to Hawkins High! We hope you have a wonderful time here! Go Tigers!'" He raised the pitch of his voice when he imitated the students, making you laugh a little harder than before.

"That's absolutely horrifying! You make them sound like a cult! I'm glad they didn't say that to me, I think I would've walked right out the door and never came back!"

"I think anyone would!" He chuckled. He looked very pleased with himself that he made you laugh as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, but still smiling wide.

As the two of you settled into comfortable silence, you took your notebook out of your bag and attempted to take notes on… MooBath ? With the fantastic mixture of Ms. Davies’ terrible writing, your terrible eyesight, and your lack of glasses, the board at the front of the room was nearly unreadable from where you were sitting. Squinting your eyes and leaning forward you could make out that it was actually MacBeth that she was teaching, not something a cow would say while getting cleaned.

“Forgot your glasses at home?” Eddie asked softly. 

“No, I don't have any. Can't afford them.” You said simply, trying not to make a big deal over the fact that your parents didn't care enough about you to spend less money on their addictions so they could actually take care of their child. 

“Oh. Well that sucks. You should sit closer to the front then.” He said, like it wasn't the most obvious solution. 

You laughed lightly, “I would've but this was the only seat open and I doubt anyone would be kind enough to move just for me.” You looked back at him, he looked very comfortable leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. 

“Don't ask ‘em then. Just sit. We don't have assigned seating so you can sit wherever you want.” He shrugged and leaned forward, putting his crossed arms on the desk. “Plus it would be fun to see the cheerleaders whine about not getting their way.” A somewhat devious smile spread across his face. 

“We'll see.” You said with a small smile, turning your attention back to the teacher. You decided that after missing the first half of the lesson you should at least try to take notes from just her voice alone. It was a struggle, she talked very fast and went on plenty of tangents that didn't have much to do with the subject matter. By the end of the class, you had about a page and a half of notes that you were only 60% confident in being correct and a bit of a headache from squinting at the board. 

The bell finally rang while Ms. Davies was mid-sentence. It startled her a bit but she dismissed you all and wished everyone a good rest of the day. On to lunch!

As you packed up your things and exited the classroom, Eddie stuck right by you chattering away. “Hey you should come sit with me and my friends for lunch! You'll fit right in! They're metal fans too!” He seemed to have a ton more energy than he did in class for some reason, or maybe he was quiet on purpose so that you could try to take notes. 

Stopping at your locker to exchange your books for your lunch, you smiled at him “Okay, I'd love to.” Why not? Worst that could happen is they hate you and you spend your time at another school completely alone. Best case? You gain some friends for a bit, until you have to pack up and move to another town in a month or two. 

You could feel that Eddie was practically vibrating as he led you to the cafeteria, eager to introduce you to his friends. He kept his hand on your shoulder like he was afraid you'd run away or get lost on the short journey. Approaching the long lunch table he waved his hand toward a few younger boys on the left, probably freshmen or juniors, and ordered them to “Scoot!”. They looked at him like he asked them to sacrifice themselves. “I said scoot!” He repeated, now using both hands to usher them all down one seat. 

“Well, you don't have to-” you tried to stop the disruption of their natural seating but Eddie just waved at you stating “They're fine. Have a seat!” He beamed once again when you took your seat, every single boy at the table staring at you like you'd just appeared out of thin air. 

“Friends, this is y/n.” Eddie gestured to you like he was unveiling a masterpiece at a museum. The rest of the table greeted you with tentative “Hi.”s. One guy in a leather jacket, on the opposite side of the table asked “You managed to bring a girl to our table? How'd you do that man?”

You chuckled a little “Well, I'm only vaguely a girl, you shouldn't really think of me as one if that makes you more comfortable. You can call me whatever you want, honestly. I’ve heard it all. But I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with cheerleaders and doing my makeup and giggling and shit. I'm not into all that girly stuff. But uh… anyway… hi.” You gave a little wave and looked at everyone around the table. Most of the older guys looked similar to Eddie in terms of clothing style. They looked pretty metal and some of them had jackets like Eddie. The younger boys were a little more toned down but they seemed to fit in really well with the general vibe of the table. 

Eddie smiled at you as he pulled up a chair and sat at the head of the table, like a king, you thought. “y/n here, is a new kid. Just moved in from…” He looked to you to finish his sentence for him. 

“I don't even know, I only lived there for three months. Somewhere in south Indiana. Started with a B I think?” you shrugged. You genuinely couldn't remember the name, and the city itself was already a blur in your memory, as with most of the cities you've lived in. 

“Bloomington?” one of the boys to your left asked. He had very curly hair tucked up into a hat that said Thinking Cap .

“Yeah, sure, that sounds right.” You replied, opening your lunch bag and taking out the sandwich you made this morning. “Pretty boring place if you ask me.”

“Hey, wait, are you the one that just moved next door to me?” Another boy to your left asked. This one had shoulder length black hair and bangs, it kind of seemed like he was trying to look like Eddie if you were being honest.

“Probably? I just got here, dude. I don't even know my own address, let alone yours!” You laughed, trying not to sound mean, but wanting to get the message across that you don't know anyone or anything in this town. You took a bite out of your sandwich and looked towards Eddie, who was once again leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, looking at you.

Eddie laughed and adjusted his sitting position so that he was leaning back just a little bit more, legs spread apart like he owned the place. “She’s new, like I said. But I think she fits in with us already. An outcast, a metal head, possibly a freak like yours truly.” He meant “freak” in the same way that the cheerleader had meant it when she walked into you at your locker; a person who doesn't conform to the normie bullshit and instead proudly displays their true self to the world.… that's probably how he meant it, you think. 

“I appreciate that, Eddie.” you said, smiling at him. Something in his eyes flashed as you said his name, fear? Arousal? Just simple appreciation? You weren't sure.

The rest of the table appeared to accept that you were part of the group immediately. It seemed that Eddie was their leader and they would follow his every word. Again, like he was a king. Unlike other “kings” you had met, Eddie actually seemed to take pride in being a leader; he accepted the responsibility and he cared about his “subjects” a huge amount. He certainly had power, but his friends respected him and his ideas. It felt very fair. 

“So what do you guys do in this town?” You asked between bites of your sandwich. “Sex, drugs, alcohol and loud music?” You were only half joking with that suggestion, they were the main things most people did in every place you've been to, but you were looking for more of a “places to go” answer.

“I mean, you're pretty spot on.” The guy right across the table piped up. He had sort of poofy hair and a plaid vest that had a bunch of pins on it. “We’re in a band so… we’re the loud music bit.” He gestured to Eddie and the two other guys on his side of the table.

“Woah really?” You were honestly a little excited about this information. “I assume a metal band, yeah?”

“Duhhhhh!” Eddie droned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Nothing else is worth playing.”

“Well, slow down there cowboy.” you laughed, “Other music is good too! Doesn't all have to be sick guitar solos and screaming your lungs out. Sometimes it's nice to chill out to some Elvis.”

“Oh god.” Eddie suddenly looked scared and sick as he stared directly at you. “I was wrong… you're secretly… a normie!” He dramatically flailed his arms and pretended to pass out, like the shock of your extended music taste had killed him. The whole table laughed at him, you included. The sheer drama of this man was keeping you hooked, you were already having fun and you had only just met him. He was comfortable to be around though, like you’d known him since childhood. When he opened his eyes and sat up, you were the first thing he looked at, your smiling face, laughing at his little act.

“You should come watch us play some time!” The guy in the plaid vest offered.

Pulling your eyes away from Eddie, you answered, “I’d love to! Where do you play?” You absolutely would love to see them play! You just hope that they’re some kind of good.

“Every Tuesday at a bar called The Hideout. It's a little far from here.” 

“Oh… well I don't have a car, anyone I could hitch a ride with?” You asked, looking around the table. The younger kids probably didn't have cars either but maybe they had other friends who went to see the band play.

“We can drive you.” Eddie answered quickly. “You can be our first groupie.” You think you saw him wink at you.

“Hold on, really? You never offer rides to non-band members. Something about the sanctity of the van or something?” Plaid vest looked shocked at Eddie’s immediate offer.

“Yeah, well, I've made an exception.” Eddie waved his hand and his words were accepted.

“Really, you don't have to if that's not your thing. I can find my own way there some time, or I'll watch you play someplace else. No biggie. Don't make exceptions for me, I'm not special.” You pleaded. You really didn't want to just force your way into their group, it could end badly if you pissed people off. You could handle being alone or kicked out but you wouldn't be able to handle being the reason the band or the friend group broke up.

“No, really, it's fine. If we bring you along then you'll be forced to listen to our whole set and then maybe we'll finally have a fan!” Eddie explained. “We play tonight if you want to come?”

Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, you pulled away, “I… can’t tonight. I have a lot of unpacking to do. I still have to find all my clothes.” You laughed a little uncomfortably. “Next time though, yeah?”

Eddie looked a little saddened by that, but understanding nonetheless. “That's okay!” He reassured, “Next time.” He gave a warm smile to let you know he wasn't trying to pressure you.

“We- we also have a DnD club!” Thinking Cap kid said excitedly.

At this, your eyes brightened. You'd played DnD a few times at different schools, they always ended on cliffhangers though, because you left before the campaign could really get going. “Really!?” You asked. “That's so cool!”

Everyone at the table got excited then; asking you if you were serious, what kind of character you played, if you've ever DM'd, just question after question, none of them getting answered. You laughed as the boys bombarded you with queries and Eddie progressively got more and more annoyed with them. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” He yelled, silencing the table immediately, and a few others next to yours. He was standing now and he turned to you, “You're lying right? There's no way you're actually into DnD.” He looked a little hesitant waiting for your answer. Hopeful, maybe, that you were telling the truth. 

“No, I'm not lying! Honestly, I've played a few times but none of the campaigns I've been a part of have gotten anywhere because I moved before we could get to the good stuff.” You explained. 

“Ho-ly-shit!” Eddie said, emphasizing each syllable. “You're perfect. You're actually perfect. Sent from heaven, we've gained an angel, boys!” He raised his arms to the air like he was praising a God, the table roared with excitement again. Then he dropped his hands down onto the table with a bang! Making you all jump a little. 

Suddenly very serious, he leaned into his hands, looming over you slightly and asked “What's your class and level?”

Realizing he was quizzing you, or maybe this was a hazing? You answered immediately, “I play a Half-Elf Paladin named Sebastian. With my limited amount of play time I've managed to eke him up to level 5.” proud of your answer you lifted your chin up to Eddie, showing him you weren't lying and you definitely knew your shit. 

The table was silent again, watching the two of you battle. “Backstory?” He questioned. 

“Sebastian was abducted by a group of thieves when he was 15. He spent 20 years under their command, being the muscle to their brains. One night, the thieves’ camp was raided and Sebastian joined the raiders’ side, killing the people who took him hostage. Now, he's sworn an oath to kill or punish every thief or criminal who holds prisoners or slaves captive. He’s also searching for his lost parents that he was ripped away from.” You held eye contact with him the whole time you told your story. Your character's backstory was something you were very proud of and you weren't going to let him make a fool of you. 

Eddie leaned back away from you, sitting comfortably in his chair again. “Not bad.” he praised. “I'm thoroughly impressed. I guess we can add ‘nerd’ to your list of qualities that make you fit in here.”

You smiled at him, a warm feeling in your chest growing as you felt the validation from him. “Thank you. I wear that title with pride.”

“Okay! So she's joining us right!? This is fricken awesome!” Thinking Cap shook his clenched hands in front of him in excitement. 

Still staring at Eddie, you raised an eyebrow to him, questioning if he wanted you to join or not. 

“That's up to her.” He stated. “I think it's clear that the invitation is open.” 

Glancing at the table full of smiling guys, all of them on the edge of their seat, waiting for your answer, you simply said, “Then I accept.”

The table roared a final time and you received a few pats on the back and a few “Welcome to hellfire!”s. Meanwhile, Eddie was grinning from ear to ear, trying to play down his excitement, but you could see the way he squeezed his crossed arms together, the same way he did when you talked about music in class. He was definitely happy that you said yes. 

When the excitement finally died down and everyone settled into a lighter conversation, Eddie scooted his chair closer to you and whispered somewhat close to your ear. “If we're too much for you, you can tell us to back off. I didn't mean to bombard you with so much shit on your first day. You just seem really cool, and that's rare around here, so I wanted you to have some equally cool friends.”

Turning your head slightly to look at him, you noticed how comfortable he was with being so close to you. And how comfortable you were with it as well. “I'm enjoying it actually,” you whispered back. “I've never felt this welcome before.”

“Good.” Was all he said as he moved away from you, showing off his dimples again with a smile. 

You finished your lunch while listening to the multiple conversations happening around the table. Two boys were bickering, three were talking about guitar solos, and Eddie and Plaid Vest were discussing something very quietly. You thought to yourself “Okay, I definitely think like it here for once.”

“Hey, lunch is almost over,” Plaid Vest announced, looking to you. “What class do you have next?”

Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled out your schedule. “Ummm… History, with O'Donall.” 

“NO WAY!” Eddie yelled from right beside you, startling you a bit. “So do I! Let me see your schedule!” 

You handed the paper over to Eddie and both he and Plaid Vest (you really should have asked everyone’s name) looked over every class. “None of those are with me, unfortunately.” Plaid Vest said, slightly disappointed. The end-of-lunch bell rang and students began packing up their lunches, returning their trays, and leaving the cafeteria. “I'll see you later tho!” He waved at you with a genuine smile and left the cafeteria.

“You’ll never fucking believe this, but we have every single class together!” Eddie said excitedly.

“No way.” You said flatly, you did not believe that one bit. The rest of the table started packing up their things as well and heading out. Everyone gave you a polite “bye” on their way out.

“I'm serious! Well, except for first period, but the rest of today we do! I’d show you my own schedule but it's in my locker.” Eddie insisted. He stood up as you did and kept to your side as you made your way back to your locker to gather your things. 

“So what you're saying is: I'm never going to get rid of you?” You joked, opening up your locker.

“Oh absolutely!” Eddie said with a devilish grin on his face. “Guess you and I have to be friends forever now.”

“Well… forever for me might only be a couple months before I move again, but I think I can handle you for that long.” You teased, pulling the last of your class stuff out of your locker and shutting it.

“You're going to move again? You just got here.” Eddie asked. You both started down the hall towards history class, Eddie leading the way.

“Well, I've moved probably near fifty times in my eighteen years of life, so… it's not unlikely that I'll move again.”

“FIFTY!?” Eddie yelled

“Calm down,” you laughed at his sudden outburst, that number usually surprises people. “Yeah something like that. Makes it hard to keep friends.” You said, sounding a lot sadder than you meant to.

“That fucking blows. Why do you move so much?” Eddie was genuinely curious about you, he was leaning in and listening to your every word.

“You'd have to ask my dad. He pisses off a lot of people and then we’re forced to skip town before he gets his ass beat.” You explained. “He's not in trouble with the cops or anything, just like… landlords, neighbors, bar owners, liquor store employees… pissed off a mayor once too.” God your dad’s a mess.

“Wow, what an asshole.” He stepped through the doorway of your history class and held his arm out in front of him, waving you through like you were royalty. It made you laugh, and made other people stare.

“You're telling me.” You said, exaggerated. You walked past Eddie and quickly made your way to the teacher at the head of the room, wanting to introduce yourself quickly this time so that there weren't so many students in the room for her to announce your presence to.

This teacher, once again, confirmed that this was the right class and welcomed you to Hawkins High. As she finished writing your name on the attendance sheet, a shrill voice let out an exasperated “UGH!” from behind you. 

“This is my seat, you freak! Go find a trash can to sit in, or better yet! Go jump off a bridge!” The same blonde haired cheerleader who had smashed into you in the hall was currently screaming at Eddie, who was sitting at a pair of desks in the third row with his feet on the table, not looking at her at all.

“Miss Blackwell! That is enough! None of these seats belong to anyone! Please find another desk to sit in. Mister Munson has already chosen that one.” Ms. O'Donall stated, sternly. She then sighed and added, “And thank you for joining us today, mister Munson.” sounding like she was annoyed that he showed up at all.

The cheerleader and her friend stomped away from Eddie who was now smiling at you, very proud of himself. They sat down at a different pair of desks which caused another two students who had just walked in, to be upset and move back a row, they caused another two to move, and another, and another, and another. Eddie had just disrupted almost every student’s seating habit single-handedly.

“What are you doing?” you whispered to Eddie as you took your seat next to him. “You really wanted to hear the cheerleaders whine huh?”

“Of course! It sounded like fun when I suggested it, and I didn’t think you would do it, so I did.” He took his feet off the desk in front of him and leaned toward you so only you could hear him. “Plus, I figured this was a good spot, you can see the board from here right?”

Did he really just force some cheerleaders to move seats just so that you wouldn't have to sit at the back of the room and squint to see the board? “Eddie!” You whispered, scolding him a bit. “You did not just do that so I could see the board.” You were looking him directly in the eyes, searching for some other explanation than kindness towards you, someone he just met.

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders with a big smile on his face and leaned back in his chair, assuming the same position as he seemed to always do, arms crossed, legs spread.

You continued to stare at him, bewildered that someone would do that for you. A loud voice pulled you away though, “Miss y/ln. I don't think today's lesson is on mister Munson’s forehead, so could you face the board where it actually is, please?” Ms. O’Donall, who you now know will be a hard-ass, was looking directly at you, lips pursed together. “Sorry.” you said quietly, and turned to face her. She nodded sharply and went back to the lesson. You heard a few giggles from behind you, probably the cheerleaders. 

You took out your notebook and began copying the notes Ms. O'Donall was writing on the board, trying your hardest to not look at Eddie. Something in your head kept wanting to stare at him, to get closer to him, to really make a friend this time around. But you knew if you did that, it would end in heartbreak when you were dragged off to another city with your parents. So you pushed it all down. Hanging out with the boys won't be so bad, there's no harm in having fun, you just won't let yourself get too attached to them and the break will be clean. Hopefully. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. You managed to get some notes from Ms. O'Donall on the two weeks that you missed so you wouldn't be so behind. And your last class of the day was biology, probably the only class that you learned anything in during all of last year, so it felt like more of a review than new information. Eddie chose to sit you near the front in biology as well, though no one yelled at him in that class, which was honestly surprising. 

When the final bell rang, Eddie followed you once again to your locker. “How did you understand a single thing that Mr. Grinnell said?”

“I've been through it before. This is my second senior year. Fuck every other class, but bio? That's my shit. Well, and art, but that doesn't count.” You explained, pulling your jacket and backpack from your locker. 

“I dunno, I've been through it before too, but I think it made even less sense this time around.” He rubbed his forehead like thinking made his brain hurt. 

You closed your locker and placed your hand on his shoulder. “If you need some help, I don't mind. After all you've done for me so far, I think I owe you something. We can help each other finally finish our senior years. Well… help each other for as long as I'm here.”

Eddie pulled his hand away from his face and looked up at you. “You serious? Because I think I could really use the help. I'm dumb as shit so it might be a challenge, but I'm not gonna say no if it means we get to hang out.” He seemed to be excited about your offer. 

“Yeah, I'm absolutely serious. Gives me a reason to stay away from my house and my parents.” You really hated sitting around the house with your dad who was always drunk and mad, and your mom who was always high and stupid. “But not tonight though, I really do have to find my clothes or else I'll be showing up to school tomorrow in this exact outfit. Plus, you have a gig to get to.” You smiled at him warmly, making sure he knew that you weren't just being nice for the sake of it. You really did like the idea of having someone to keep you on track in school, and you had no problem with helping him do the same. 

“Deal!” He excitedly accepted and stuck out his hand for you to shake. 

You took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “No taking that back now, we've made a deal!” You said, pointing at him. 

He grinned. “Scout's honor!” he swore, raising his hand to place it over his heart, his other hand still holding yours. 

The two of you made your way outside, ready to head home. “Need a ride?” Eddie offered. 

“No, that's okay, I'll walk.” You politely declined. 

“Are you sure? If you live near Wheeler, that's a pretty far walk!” Wheeler must be the kid you moved in next to. The one with black hair that looked like Eddie’s. 

“Honestly, it's not that bad of a walk. I made it to school that way.” Granted, you were late two periods, but that wasn't entirely your fault. You didn't have your alarm clock unpacked yet and you woke up later than you meant to. “It's pretty straightforward. Plus, it's how I usually learn the city. If I get lost, I'll just wander till I find my way back.”

Eddie looked a little worried for a moment so you patted him on the shoulder and reassured him, “I'll be fine. Promise. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah!?” 

He hesitated for a moment but you could see him decide against arguing with you. “Alright then, yeah. See you tomorrow, y/n.” He said, nodding and smiling. 

“Bye, Eddie.” You gave him a big smile and a little wave and headed off in the direction of your new house. 

The walk home took about 20 minutes, plenty of time to sort out your head and take note of all that had happened in the day. You made six friends in one day, definitely a new record for you! You joined a DnD party, possibly became a groupie, pissed off some cheerleaders, and gained a study buddy. There's a good chance that this town wasn't going to be the worst you've ever stayed in. But the looming question of “just how long will this last?” would never leave your mind. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson slow burn #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #friends to lovers

[popjunkie42]

Enchanted, Enthralled

I couldn't help it, Halloween weekend is upon us so I wrote you some smut as a treat.

(This is meant to be 3 chapters but tbh I do not have an ending yet, so please enjoy it as a little one-shot for now!)

Enchanted, Enthralled on A03

On a cold autumn night in Velaris, Feyre comes across a beautiful gift in her studio. But as a painting takes on a terrifying life of its own, Feyre begins to realize that not all is well. The question is: how long will her mate and friends take to notice, and will it be too late?

Or: Vampire!Feyre is let loose on an unsuspecting Rhysand.

Tags and Heads Up: Vampire!Feyre, vampire sex (with blood), dubcon (Feyre is possessed)

@rosanna-writer and @thesistersarcheron peer pressured me (they did not) and thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @xtaketwox for brainstorming with me!

Feyre wandered the streets of Velaris, chasing the fading sunlight, her boots crunching on fallen leaves.

The fall night air was chill as it twisted through the streets and snuck beneath her coat, the fabric of her skirts. Above her, the full moon hung low and heavy in the sky, its light shimmering off the cobblestones damp with mist. 

The air around her was full of the scents of autumn, of cider and smoke and mulled wine.

Feyre loved Velaris in the autumn, the brisk cold beaten back by glowing hearths and warm meals at her table. So different from before, when she was hungry, when autumn was the harbinger of winter. Of harsh times and empty pantries.

Or…after that. In endless Spring. Where all was quiet and stagnant, even in ever bloom.

She rounded a corner and took a moment to appreciate the Rainbow, glowing before her under the cold starlight. 

In the evenings, when there wasn’t dinner with the Inner Circle or some formal social event demanding a High Lady, Feyre liked to come to the studio. Knew she would have the place entirely to herself.

The door shut with the ring of a bell and she lit the fae lights in the room, the rest illuminated by the burning night lights of the city street.

The High Lady smiled as she doffed her coat and wandered through the maze of easels covered in the children’s paintings. She pulled off her gloves and scarf and set them gently down on her work bench on the far side of the room.

And paused. The usual mess was here, brushes and new supplies and paperwork and little gifts from the children. Sometimes Ressina teased her for the disorganized piles, but Feyre liked it. This was one of the few places she could spread out and destroy as well as make, without Nuala or Cerridwen or hell, even Rhys sometimes, following after her, picking up.

But what caught her eye was very out of place in the chaos. Atop the desk was a beautifully carved ornate wooden box. Though the wood was polished and immaculate, something about it screamed ancient . 

It was common enough for the children to bring her gifts, and often the parents. But never anything as grandiose as this. 

Patience never much of her strong suit, Feyre flipped the latch and lifted the heavy lid of the small chest until it hung back on its hinges.

No card, no engraving, no initials. Just twelve bottles of vibrant, fresh paint.

A soft smile played on her lips. Perhaps these were from the Continent, or one of the Master’s studios in Day? She was glad she was alone. Whoever had brought this perhaps had a sense of how embarrassed she would be, accepting such a luxurious gift.

The bottle of brilliant blue unscrewed easily and she grabbed a palette knife to mix the heavy pigment back in with the clear binder floating on top.

It was…mesmerizing. Bright and almost glowing. She wondered where they ever found the pigments to make something so otherworldly.

There was a lightness in her chest as she looked at the other bottles, each as vibrant and rich as the first. She had come here to paint, after all.

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

The city streets outside were bursting with life, even in the chill. The sounds of conversation and the clap of shoes against the cobblestones grew as patrons left the latest show out at the theater up the street. Music swelled from the city square just beyond, and street vendors hawked their wares.

But when Feyre painted, it all faded into the background.

For too long, she thought, shaking her head as if from a dream. She arched her back and groaned at the crick forming from her bad posture.

Her brush dunked in the water glass beside her as she rubbed her stiff neck. Had it really been so long? She was mixing the paints, brushing on a tinted under layer, and then…

Finally her eyes returned to her canvas and she gasped.

Sworls of choppy blue, green and white centered the canvas, looking like rippling waves. She could have sworn they moved. And around them, bands and bands of dark black. A frame. A mirror. A door.

She didn’t remember painting a single stroke.

The painting seemed to ripple again, and maybe it was the light but she could have sworn…there was something behind the brush strokes, depths upon hidden depths.

She felt a familiar feeling, a dread in her belly and prickling of her skin. So like those first steps Under the Mountain, tiptoeing and peeking around each corner, knowing something terrible was inevitable around one of them.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The sounds of the street faded away again as her eyes focused and unfocused. Feyre felt her arm lift, her fingers picking up a brush. As if on its own. She took a dab of paint and the world faded away.

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

The second time, she still didn’t know how long she had been under. Because that’s what it felt like, thrashing under deep waves, being tossed back and forth. And somewhere, deeper still, a voice. Soothing and gentle. Telling her, just let go. 

Sink .

-Darling?

It was the voice of her mate that brought her back with a start.

-What are you up to? I’ll be winnowing back from the camp soon.

-I’ll meet you at home, she quickly sent down the bond.

The painting had changed. Her heart pounded between her ribs.

Looking back at her was a single slitted eye, red as hot coals. 

And she heard it whisper,

Sink .

/|㇏^•ᵥᵥ•^ノ|\

Rhys panted as he rolled his hips upward, the chill night breeze from the cracked window doing little to cool the heat of his skin, dripping with sweat. 

Above him Feyre moaned, her hips grinding against his, her head tilting back to the ceiling with her mouth parted, tasting the air.

Only a single candle lit the room from the bedside table. The cold moonlight cast in, a sharp line through the curtain, the silver light piercing over her neck, her peaked breasts.

Rhys’s eyes were wide. Enchanted . She was so fierce and free tonight, taking everything she wanted. Feyre moved on him, her hand lifting to grasp her breast and he gasped as she clenched tighter around him.

She had been rough tonight, desperate. Throwing him against the wall and ripping away his fine black jacket the moment he stepped into the bedroom. He had barely had time to grin, to tease her for her lascivious hands and lips until he was thrown onto the bed, his clothes roughly stripped from his body.

He gripped her hips, trying to guide his body deeper into her. His pleasure was a wild, feral thing, setting off sparks in his mind the more he felt the wanton drag of his cock through her slick wetness.

Feyre opened her mouth in a gasp as her back arched, the light catching on her pointed canines. Her hands went to cover his on her hips, and he felt her talons growing and scratching against his skin.

Though he was inside her, touching her everywhere, his body only cried out more, more.

Her skin was pale, almost blue in the moonlight, but her body was burning, scorching him under his palms and where they were joined at the hip.

Through his lusty haze, he felt the sudden pangs of a hunger so desperate the breath caught in his throat.

Feyre whimpered, a delicious sound, and leaned forward on her knees to pitch towards him and suckle at the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Rhys,” she panted. Her voice was deep, desperate. “I’m so hungry.”

He gasped as the feeling struck him down the bond, her aching emptiness traveling through the golden tether between them and gripping his heart.

Between his pleasure he felt the flashes, of a girl starving and cold in the woods, of moldy bread in a dank prison cell. All the times she was alone and he hadn’t been there to provide. It was driving him mad. He felt the urge to let his power rise, to turn back the sun and moon in the sky until he was there every moment she was alone and desperate and surround her with his wings. To place delectable morsels on her waiting tongue, let her suck the taste from his fingers.

That tongue was lapping against his neck, licking off beads of sweat, replaced by the scrape of her teeth, sharp against his skin.

Though she was in his arms, her cunt fluttering around him, his heart was breaking with her hunger, her need. His mate was starving. A primal urge rose within him, to provide, to satiate. 

“Darling ,” he cried, his voice breaking. “What do you need? Tell me,” he pleaded, his arms wrapping around her back, hot and slick with sweat.

She nipped at his neck. “ I’m so hungry,” she said again, nuzzling at his throat.

“Yes, yes,” he cried. As if he could, would ever deny her anything. Certainly not with his cock buried deep inside her and her voice this needy whine. “Take what you need,” he whispered into the dark.

Her body stilled at that and his own cried out at the lack of friction. But he felt her smile against his neck, and then her teeth scraped, and then she was biting, her sharp canines piercing through his flesh to reach his hammering pulse beneath it.

All feeling in his body rushed, like an errant wave, and he came with a hoarse cry as he spilled himself inside of her.

His vision is blurred and his mind is hazy as he comes down from his climax, the thoughts filtering through his mind like wandering clouds across the night sky. Feyre’s mouth is hot against his neck, a heady, burning sensation running down from her lips to his limbs, his body tingling. The feelings down the bond are glowing, warm, thankful. 

Instead of relaxing back into the bed, his body, he feels he’s moving up, and up, floating above the mattress. He feels a drip of something, blood or sweat, escape Feyre’s lips and travel down the muscles of his neck. Her teeth are sharp but her mouth is warm, her tongue dancing over his skin.

And oh, she’s so content. She hums against him, the sound reverberating through his neck to his skull. She’s taking and taking and all he wants is to give her more, to fill her up. She pierced his skin and all his strength, the swirling madness of his darkness rushed out to satiate her need.

She sucks harder and he feels his limbs going loose and light, his whole body weightless and attuned to every place they are connected. He groans with her ecstasy, her joy. Gone is the starving human girl in the forest, bitter and trembling. He is feeding his mate, his Feyre, and here on top of him she is safe and warm.

Just when his body feels like it might sink, might fall through the mattress and into whatever dark earth lies beneath it, she breaks from his neck with a gasp.

Feyre throws her head back towards the ceiling, panting, the moonlight cascading down her body once again. He watches, enraptured, feeling like he’s outside of his body, vaguely charting the dribble of blood dripping from her lips to her chin to her throat, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone.

He is so tired now. He files the vision of her blood stained teeth deep within him for another time. All he feels now is her pleased murmurings across the bond. A deep humming contentment in his chest. The male, now content, who dreamt sometimes about that ancient High Lord, dashing his body and blood against the stone streets of Velaris, to keep it safe. 

He groaned as she slipped off of him, but his hands wouldn’t quite work the way he wanted them to. The mattress dipping beside him as she collapsed. She was still breathing heavily, licking her lips. He turned his head and wished she would do the same, needing to drink in more of her.

And finally she did. She looked at him and smiled, a glint in her eyes that was strange but, her smile, that was enough to send a shiver down his body. His eyelids heavy, he smiled back.

“Are you happy, darling?” He whispered.

Safe and warm and fed.

Her smile widened as his eyes slowly drooped. A buzzing in the back of his head was the only thing keeping him from slipping away completely. His mind clung to the feel of her sharp talons, softly scraping against his skin. Drops of blood pooled with her sweat and finally drifted across her collarbone and down her shoulder.

“I’m so happy,” she said, and he fell into the darkness with a soft sigh. “You taste so good, my love.”

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