#about how much of a slow crawl near ghost town it's become.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

@evilteddybear requested: I always love a LWJ/WWX fic where the sect leaders, especially Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Qiren, come to the Burial Mounds and see what it's like before attacking, try to negotiate.

Thanks for the request (and your patience in seeing it filled), hope you like it!

[Masterpost] [Ao3]

--

“Xiongzhang.”

“Wangji. I don’t like it any more than you do but it’s going to be the best solution for everyone.”

The weight of his brother’s glare is nearly a physical blow but Lan Xichen is used to it and stands firm. It helps that he can distract himself from the heat of it by focusing on the long trek down to the bottom of the staircase of Jinlintai. With Jin Guangyao busy for the afternoon Lan Xichen had offered to take Lan Wangji into the city for the day, though now he’s wondering just why he had though that would be a good idea in the first place. Now at least, he supposes, they have the excuse of going off to purchase paper fine enough to be suitable for an invitation for Wei Wuxian to attend his nephew’s one-month celebration.

“I will take him the letter myself,” Lan Wangji states, voice pitched low and steady. Though it’s an obstinate, unmovable tone that Lan Xichen has heard far too many times before, he can’t help but feel that it’s his duty to put up at least something of a token argument. He can never seem to argue with anyone but Lan Wangji, but even then he almost always ends up bowing out as gracefully as he can under the strength of his headstrong brother’s will.

“Wangji, it’s not safe…”

“Wei Ying will not hurt me.”

“I didn’t say that he would.”

“The Wens are not a threat.”

Lan Xichen sighs heavily and pauses as they reach a landing to close his eyes against the inevitability of his little brother getting to have his way. He always has until the day Wei Wuxian left with his band of Wens, and Lan Wangji has been doggedly pursuing him – whether Wei Wuxian is aware of it or not – ever since. He’s never done well with not getting precisely what he wants when he wants it, and Lan Xichen adores his brother and the fact that he’s grown up being given what few things he has wanted without much thought. However in this moment, for this situation, he can’t help but privately wish deep down that his brother knew how to practice the same sacrifice that Lan Xichen himself makes when it comes to those he wishes to protect.

“If you doubt me you may come with me.”

“Wangji-“ Lan Xichen cuts off with another sigh as his brother simply walks away, his piece said and his interest in the conversation clearly exhausted. They both know very well that he’ll do what he wants, and Lan Xichen will allow it. Which is why, in the end, it’s no surprise at all that Lan Wangji makes his way to Yiling with his invitation tucked safely in a qiankun pouch, nor is it particularly surprising that Lan Xichen has accepted Lan Wangji’s sort-of-bluff of an invitation to go with him. What isa surprise is that Nie Mingjue had elected to join them when he’d caught wind of where they were going and why.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen attempts to soothe now as the man in question paces back and forth in the confines of their room. In the interest of keeping the peace he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Lan Wangji got to have his own space, but any notions that Lan Xichen may have had about utilizing the relative privacy this arrangement affords to Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue have so far borne no fruit whatsoever. “I warned you that this would be a matter of patience, you didn’t have to come with us.”

“What? And let you both walk into the lion’s den? Of course I had to come.”

“Wangji and I are far from helpless, Mingjue, and he is certain that Wei Wuxian won’t harm us.”

“He’s the only one.”

“He’s not, I-“

“Xichen I will walk all the way back to Qinghe right now if you can honestly tell me that you’re completely and utterly certain that Wei Wuxian won’t hurt anybody!”

Xichen lets out an uncharacteristically audible sigh at that and fixes Nie Mingjue with one of his Looks that always make the man cave. “Even if I could meet those terms I wouldn’t want you to go back to Qinghe. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

“Can we stay on task here?”

“We are. We are waiting for someone to leave the Burial Mounds so that we may approach them in town rather than appearing threatening by attempting to infiltrate their settlement on the mountain. There is nothing to do now but be patient. What about our current activities are not on task?”

“We need to use this time to strategize. Plan. Things may go wrong. We may need to protect Wangji, he may need to protect either of us. We don’t know what we’re in for.”

“Mingjue.”

“Xichen.”

“This is not a battle, nor a war. We are approaching a young man – a young man Wangji trusts - who hasn’t done anything dangerous in a year so that we may invite him to a family event. Please sit down and relax.”

Nie Mingjue finally stops his pacing to turn a betrayed glare on Lan Xichen, but as with Lan Wangji he’s well used to absorbing Nie Mingjue’s frustration and neutralizing it with the soft, reassuring lines of his smile. Nie Mingjue has never been able to stay angry with him – or even near him – for longer than a few heartbeats anyway, and Lan Xichen watches the tension bleed from his broad shoulders with his next blustering exhale.

“Wangji believes that our presence may alarm the inhabitants of the Burial Mounds should we be allowed to enter their wards. You will need to remain calm in such a case so that we can show that we bear them no ill will.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and Lan Xichen’s heart aches a bit for Nie Mingjue, so level-headed when it matters but so hot-headed when it shouldn’t. Nie Mingjue meets his gaze and then groans, covering his face with both hands and tipping his head back a bit as he says, slightly muffled, “Don’t give me that look, Xichen, that’s not fair. How do you always know how to get your way?!”

“It would be significantly harder to have my way if you didn’t know in your heart that I’m right. This is a delicate situation, Mingjue, we can’t let past anger cloud our judgement now. Wangji has been here before and he says that what’s going on here isn’t what everyone says it is. We’re only here to keep him safe on his errand and see things for ourselves, alright? Now is not the time to declare the continuation of Jin Guangshan’s blood feud with the Wens.”

“Yes, fine, fine! I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

“And no glaring.”

“Xichen!” Nie Mingjue manages an affronted look for only a scant moment before it too fades into grumbling acquiescence as he resumes his pacing. “Fine. As little glaring as I can manage.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I love you.”

“Xichen!” Lan Xichen laughs softly to see Nie Mingjue’s blush overtakes his handsome features, turning his entire face a lovely shade of red as he splutters his way through returning the infrequently-expressed sentiment and accepts kisses that thoroughly distract him from any lingering anger.

It takes two full days of waiting before Wangji suddenly stands and strides off right in the middle of their morning meal. The behavior is so unusual that Lan Xichen is instantly worried, though as he stands to follow – with Nie Mingjue hot on their heels – he relaxes ever so slightly to see that Lan Wangji is heading straight for a young man Lan Xichen recognizes dimly as Wen Qionglin. He reaches out instinctively to rest a restraining hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm when he feels the man tense next to him, but though the Ghost General looks a little wary upon spotting Lan Wangji he doesn’t look hostile. In fact, he looks as timid and soft-spoken as he had when Lan Xichen had seen him during the lectures in Cloud Recesses. The only hint that he can see that something is different than it was then is the pallor to his skin and, just barely visible through the curtain of his mostly-unbound hair, thin spiderwebs of black cracks on his neck that creep up towards the underside of his jaw.

It takes some convincing from Lan Wangji before Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are allowed to approach, and then further convincing from Lan Xichen before Wen Ning agrees to let them all come up the mountain. He takes the invitation Lan Wangji presents with gentle, steady hands and holds it as gingerly as one would expect someone to hold little Jin Ling himself, and once again Lan Xichen finds his heart aching – this time for the cruelty of the world that always seems to touch the gentlest of souls.

The trek up the mountain is slow and hot, but the further they get from the town the colder things get. The sensation of the sun on his skin is still there, but it somehow brings him no warmth. The shade cast by the twisting, barren limbs of the trees seems wan and thin, and yet the chill he feels in their shadows reaches into his bones with clawed fingers of dread. The soil becomes loose and dusty under their feet and before too much longer he can feel resentful energy crawling along his skin, seeking weakness. That sensation, at least, passes almost as soon as he notices it and he realizes they must have passed through the wards. Things grow, if possible, even more gray and sere from then onwards, though by the time he can begin to hear sounds besides the wind through dead, hollow trees there are a few with some life in them. A few gnarled leaves on some of the branches in the underbrush, a few trees bearing small fruits.

They pass the first field for planting before they see anyone to till it, though the next field has a figure bent to their task. They sit up straight to watch them pass and Wen Ning offers a little wave to the figure who nods back, wariness etched into every line of their posture. Lan Xichen chances a glance at Lan Wangji to find him facing staunchly ahead, fist held behind his back and his eyes glued to the invitation in Wen Ning’s hand.

“Wei-gongzi should be tending to his field this time of day,” Wen Ning says in his typical soft stammer as they approach what seems to be the heart of the settlement. There are more people around now, all going about various agrarian tasks with varying degrees of vigor. Lan Xichen is about to ask what he means by field when he looks ahead again and spots it, shocking in the gray landscape around them – a bright green space dotted with soft pink petals, and a man in shades of black and grey bent over it with his trousers rolled up to the knee.

It’s clear that Lan Wangji is aching to go to him but they’re stopped before they can go any further by a small young woman suddenly in their way, her feet planted and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wen-guniang,” Lan Wangji greets with a salute as Wen Ning offers a quiet, “Jie..”

“A-Ning. What are they doing here?”

There’s a beat of silence that Lan Xichen abruptly realizes it’s his responsibility to fill, despite this being Lan Wangji’s errand.

“Wen-guniang,” he greets with a salute of his own that Nie Mingjue copies at his side a beat later. “Wangji has an invitation to extend to Wei Wuxian, and Nie-zongzhu and I agreed to accompany him.”

“An invitation?” At her prompting, Wen Ning hurries to hold out the document itself for her to take, which she does with another skeptical glance at the three of them before she opens it to read the contents. Lan Xichen watches her face for some sort of reaction to the news that Wei Wuxian is invited to Jinlintai, but if she has any sort of feeling about it she does an admirable job of hiding it.

“Wei Wuxian!” she calls without looking away from them. Lan Wangji’s spine stiffens and goes miraculously straighter, as if Wei Wuxian’s name alone is enough to electrify. The man in question waves a mud-stained hand in their general direction without turning around.

“What is it, Wen Qing? A-Yuan is playing with Popo right now.”

Lan Xichen glances up at Nie Mingjue at that with a question in his expression though he knows Nie Mingjue likely doesn’t understand that any better than he does. Nie Mingjue isn’t even looking at him anyway, as it turns out. Instead he’s looking around what they can see from where they are – a crumbling stone structure built into the side of the mountain. Crude wooden huts made from the subpar lumber available in the twisting dead forest around them. Tired farmers in clothes that look one hard winter away from falling apart. And over it all the pall of death and decay that’s inescapable in the midst of a field that had once been, as the name suggests, nothing but a hill of bones and restless spirits.

“You have…guests.”

Lan Xichen looks ahead again in time to catch Wei Wuxian whipping around so quickly he nearly falls off his perch at the edge of his ‘field’ of lotuses, thriving right there in the middle of the Burial Mounds, against all odds.

“Lan Zhan!” he squeaks, looking utterly shocked to see Lan Wangji, let alone him or Nie Mingjue. “What are you-“

“Rich-gege!!!” A tiny voice suddenly cries and Lan Xichen is startled to see a small blur come running from the direction of one of the other fields to plaster itself against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“Hello A-Yuan,” he says softly, almost too softly for Lan Xichen to hear, and he drops his hand down from behind his back to pet the top of the boy’s head, smoothing flyaway hairs back from his little face.

“A child, Mingjue,” he whispers, though the volume can’t hide his horror. This is the ‘band of Wen rebels’ the Jin Sect is so afraid of? This is who remains as the target of their revenge and hatred?

“I see him,” Mingjue replies quietly, jaw working with a little flutter of the muscles in his cheek. “I see them.”

“Rich-gege Xian-gege said you wouldn’t come back but you did!! Pick up, please!”

Lan Xichen wonders if it’s possible for his eyes to go any wider as Lan Wangji reaches down without hesitation to curl his hands under A-Yuan’s reaching arms and, heft him up onto his hip where the boy promptly clings and lays his head down, seemingly content to hug and be held.

“Lan Zhan what are you – what are you all doing here?” Wei Wuxian tries again as he stumbles out of the mud of his pond to traipse across the space between them, cleaning his hands rather ineffectually on his robes hiked up around his hips. When he draws level with Wen Qing she holds the invitation out to him with a look in her eyes that Lan Xichen can’t quite decipher. It’s the first time she’s taken her eyes off of them since she had intercepted them, and Lan Xichen is a little embarrassed to realize he’s relieved to no longer be the subject of her sharp attention.

“They brought you this. You can go see your sister.”

“What?!” Wei Wuxian scrambles to open the letter, eyes flying across the page as he reads whatever it was Lan Wangji had written – knowing him it’s probably as bare-bones as possible, conveying only the necessary information and nothing else. It doesn’t take him long at all to look back up from the page with suspiciously shining eyes. “Is this real?”

“Mn. It was agreed upon.”

“Jiang Cheng agreed to this? And Jin Zixuan?”

“Mn.”

For an alarming moment Wei Wuxian looks like he’s in desperate need of a place to sit, but he rallies quickly and all of a sudden his smile is absolutely blinding, the way it had been once when he’d been a younger, much more carefree teenager coming to study in Gusu. When his smiles had turned Lan Wangji’s ears red and made him glare daggers through whatever poor wall or floor or passing disciple happened to be in his line of sight.

“Oh. Oh wait come in, come in, you’re making everybody nervous out here,” he says with a laugh that doesn’t sound..entirely genuine, but another glance around the settlement proves that he’s got a point. The Wens are all watching them now, tasks forgotten in the need to watch for approaching danger. “Lan Zhan sorry about A-Yuan, he probably won’t be willing to let go for a while.”

“No need.”

“Aiyah. Fine, fine. Come in. Wen Qing and Wen Ning, you too. Come on, let’s go,” he says and just like that Lan Xichen realizes with amusement that they’re all being shepherded into…a cave. It’s a spacious cave, the dilapidated remains of the palace built into the mountain, but it is still effectively a cave. There are tables set up in what’s clearly a communal dining area and Wei Wuxian bustles ahead of them to swipe some accumulated dirt from a couple of the benches before gesturing for them to sit.

“Ah Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, apologies for my manners,” Wei Wuxian says with a salute for both of them that Lan Xichen is quick to smile away. “We’re not exactly ah…equipped for visitors such as yourselves, I’m sure you understand.”

Lan Xichen takes a seat at the table between Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji, who has now transferred the child clinging to him to his lap where the boy sits looking at the two strangers to him with wide, curious eyes.

“Xian-gege, Rich-gege brought friends this time,” he observes and earns himself an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Wei Wuxian.

“He did! And they’re very important friends so behave for Rich-gege, alright?”

“A-Yuan is better behaved than you are, Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing retorts in what Lan Xichen is sure is meant to be their usual banter, though it comes out flat and, if he’s not mistaken, too stressed for the joke to properly land. Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does then he is still adept at charging through any sort of tension with his usual charm.

“So rude, Wen Qing, we have guests,” he says with a little flourish as he finally takes his robes down from where they’re hitched up and pats them into place where they belong. It becomes even more apparent how threadbare they are with the full length of them on display. He sits down quickly enough and the Wen siblings move to stand behind him, arms crossed protectively over their chests though rather than looking intimidating, as he’s sure other people would find them, to Lan Xichen they just look…afraid.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says softly, and though Lan Xichen knows his brother well enough to know that there’s a whole thought tucked into those two words, he doesn’t know them well enough to know what those thoughts are. And that is strangely disconcerting, to realize that there’s an entire facet of his brother that he doesn’t understand anymore.

“Lan Zhan, not that I’m not pleased to see you, of course you know I am. But why are you here?” Lan Wangji flicks his gaze towards the invitation now stowed safely in the front of Wei Wuxian’s robes and the man rests a hand gently over it, though his resolved expression doesn’t waver. “This could have been delivered by post, or by messenger. The townspeople know Wen Ning, they would have gotten it to him if you had left it for us. Why did you come here in person? And - no offense Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, but..why are you part of this too?”

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning speaks up softly, surprising everyone else in the room. “I don’t think you’ll be safe in Jinlintai.” It’s something of a non-sequitur but somehow the thoughts must be connected, and Wei Wuxian muster understand how they are judging by the way his entire demeanor changes into something much more alert.

Lan Xichen sighs softly as Wei Wuxian’s sharp gaze fixes on them, but it’s Nie Mingjue who speaks up first.

“Jin Guangshan wants your amulet.” It’s bold and barefaced in the way that Nies tend to be and though Lan Xichen is used to it, it still makes him feel a bit squirmy and anxious in the pit of his stomach to hear something so unpleasant laid out so plainly. Not that he’ll ever let it show, of course.

“Well he can’t have it. Next.”

“He thinks the Wens here are dangerous.”

“Clearly we’re not. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and I are the only cultivators here. Besides, we’re barely feeding ourselves, let alone preparing to take on the Jins. Next.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji cuts in, and this agonized tone, at least, Lan Xichen recognizes.

He interrupts before they can begin any sort of argument. “Wei-gongzi. During the discussion of whether or not you should be present for Jin Ling’s celebration, Jin Guangshan presented concerns about both the amulet and Wen-gongzi. You can’t deny that these are valid concerns for those whom you consider to be enemies.”

“I don’t have enemies unless they make themselves my enemy,” Wei Wuxian shoots back, all trace of boyish excitement gone from his face now. “None of you were there that night in Qiongqi Pass. Did any of you even visit the work camps Jin Guangshan put the Wens in? Did you see, with your own eyes, the field of corpses they created because they knew that the cultivation world would turn a blind eye?” There’s ringing silence for a moment before he repeats his demand. “Did you?!”

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing warns, low and quiet.

“If Jin Guangshan is so bored of watching over Lanling and sending his cultivators to protect the interests of his own Sect then by all means, create an enemy of me. I knew what I was doing when I took these people away and brought them here. I know what people say of me, and of the Wens, do you think I don’t? Words are nothing. Fear is nothing. But if someone acts against me and those I’m sworn to protect, can I not defend myself? Can I not defend them?!”

Lan Xichen curls his hands into slow fists on his knees under the edge of the table as Wei Wuxian makes a wild gesture in the general direction of the rest of the settlement, beginning to look desperate as he works himself up.

“You saw them with your own eyes. They’re just farmers, they’re just regular people, the kind that we’re supposed to protect! Popo plays with A-Yuan to keep him occupied while we work in the fields and Fourth Uncle makes wine from the fruit that grows here and everyone here is just trying to survive, yet you would rather see them all dead for the sin of having once been related to a man who has already been killed for his crimes?”

“Xian-gege,” A-Yuan says softly from his perch in Lan Wangji’s lap. Lan Xichen turns an agonized glance on him to find him reaching out for Wei Wuxian with one chubby little hand, his eyes still wide though now it’s with something like concern rather than the curiosity of before.

“A-Ning, take A-Yuan back to Popo,” Wen Qing instructs. Her brother obeys with a nod, reaching down for A-Yuan even as the boy tries to cling to Lan Wangji.

“Want to stay with Rich-gege!”

“I will come find you soon, A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji promises with something fierce and immovable in his eyes. “Go with Wen Ning.”

There’s a quick flutter of activity as the child allows himself to be carried away, and as Lan Wangji shifts his weight to get comfortable again Lan Xichen doesn’t miss the way he subtly positions himself a little closer to Wei Wuxian. It’s hardly noticeable, but it puts him on the same half of the table as Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing still standing behind his shoulder, and when Lan Xichen meets his brother’s eyes he knows precisely whose side he will stand on should it come to that.

He desperately hopes that it won’t.

“This invitation to Jin Ling’s celebration is a trap, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian asks and unlike the boyish cheerfulness of before, or the anger of mere moments ago, his tone is now as cold and blank as the stones outside.

“No,” Lan Xichen protests, though it’s undercut significantly by Lan Wangji replying with a simultaneous (and much more convincing), “Yes.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“Jin Guangshan wants the amulet. He knows you will not miss a chance to see your family. He will demand you hand over your amulet and Wen Ning to show that you are no longer a threat to him, and if you refuse I do not know what he will do.”

“He just wants to destroy the amulet and the…weapon,” Nie Mingjue cuts in, gruff and clearly unhappy with the way things are going but it is, surprisingly, Wen Qing who rises to meet him.

“You can’t seriously tell me you buy that? That a man like Jin Guangshan can be handed something powerful and decide, out of the goodness of his heart, to get rid of it,” she snaps, eyes once again cutting and her hands clutched in her sleeves where her arms are crossed. “And that ‘weapon’ is my brother, who, in case you haven’t seen, is in full control of himself and his thoughts. He counts as one of us, and destroying him now would be to finish the murder that those guards at the work camp didn’t finish.”

An uncomfortable silence drops in the wake of her anger and in it Wei Wuxian rises slowly from the table to stand next to Wen Qing, his arms crossed over his chest as well. Lan Xichen can’t help but flick a cautious glance at the hand closest to the flute tucked into his belt but at least for the moment it doesn’t seem like he’ll be reaching for it.

“If you’ve come as nothing more than Jin Guangshan’s messengers then I’m taking you right back down the mountain, one way or another. I’m protecting these people, and that is not up for negotiation. You can tell Jin Guangshan that yourself.”

“Wei Ying-“

“Lan Zhan this isn’t directed at you. It’s them.”

Lan Xichen blinks slowly as he realizes that Lan Wangji’s subtle positioning hadn’t gone unnoticed by Wei Wuxian after all. Or, he supposes, it’s equally likely that Wei Wuxian simply trusts Lan Wangji. Despite their differences, their arguments, it’s possible that Wei Wuxian sees now how ardently Lan Wangji wants him to be safe. How far it seems he’s willing to go to ensure it.

“So what’s the deal, if we leave you keep Wangji here as leverage?” Nie Mingjue barks. Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide as he abruptly realizes he’s lost all control of this conversation and it is heading in a dangerous direction much more quickly than he could have expected.

“Lan Zhan is free to come and go as he pleases, he won’t hurt us. He allowed you to come here with him this time so I assume he trusts you to do the same. But if seeing the truth is going to do absolutely nothing to change what you want and what you’ll help Jin Guangshan accomplish in wiping the Wens off the face of the earth then we’re done here, and you will not be welcome back.”

Lan Xichen can’t deny the dread settling thick and heavy in the pit of his stomach, and only a small portion of it has to do with the resentful energy in the air. Wei Wuxian has proven himself time and time again as a formidable opponent, and while Lan Xichen doesn’t think that it’s necessary to see him as an enemy he knows that the majority of the cultivation world would disagree. It’s plain to see, though, that even should that be the case there’s no force on earth that could turn him aside from the path he’s on. He said it himself – his purpose now is to protect the Wens, and if the cultivation world sees that as a reason for him to die alongside them then he will.

“We’ll help you,” he promises. Rash, perhaps. Uncharacteristically sudden of him, perhaps. But it’s actually not really, in the end. Lan Wangji has been worried about Wei Wuxian ever since that banquet in Jinlintai and his disappearance with the Wens later the same night, and so Lan Xichen has been worried about his brother since the same moment. And not only that, but he still remembers Wei Wuxian as he had once been. Where now it seems everyone wants to paint him as a devil, as an evil mastermind, as a cruel and power-hungry tyrant amassing an army of the dead, all Lan Xichen can see is a young man whose heart has always been kind, who cultivates with evil things he can’t understand but who’s using it to keep a group of helpless people safe. It is not such a sudden change of heart for him to wish to see everyone around him treated well and fairly.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says, startled by his declaration, but Lan Xichen puts a hand on his knee beneath the table, a silent promise to explain himself later.

“We’ll help you. The Lan Sect. What do you need?”

Wei Wuxian is staring at him, mouth hanging open rather comically, and so it’s Wen Qing who speaks up after a moment though Lan Xichen can see in her eyes that she doesn’t trust him yet.

“Food. Blankets for A-Yuan and for the elderly at least. And we want to be left alone.”

“These are the only demands you have?”

“What else could you possibly offer us, Zewu-Jun?”

“Fertile land,” Lan Wangji supplies, eyes beginning to alight with the first dangerous edges of hope. “Protection. Homes.”

“In Gusu?” Wei Wuxian cuts in to ask. There’s weight behind that question, a hostility, but when Lan Wangji looks at him all Lan Xichen can see is his desperation.

I want to bring a man to Cloud Recesses, his brother’s voice echoes softly in the back of his mind. Bring him there and keep him safe.

“It would not have to be permanent, necessarily,” Lan Xichen supplies, hand tensing a little more on Nie Mingjue’s knee when he feels the man shift restlessly beside him. “But it could be. None of this should have happened to you and your family, Wen-guniang. Will you allow the Gusu Lan to begin attempting to make reparations?”

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing look at each other but whatever passes between them in their glances is beyond Lan Xichen’s comprehension.

“I will think about it,” she replies after a moment and Wei Wuxian turns on his heel to put his back to the rest of them, effectively hiding whatever expression he makes in response. “Come back in three days.”

It’s a clear dismissal and so Lan Xichen stands, Nie Mingjue at his side. Lan Wangji doesn’t move, his eyes fixed firmly on Wei Wuxian’s back, but he doesn’t seem to be included in the dismissal anyway. Wen Qing simply leads them to the doorway again where Wen Ning is standing patiently on the steps outside, likely to keep any eavesdroppers away.

“We’re escorting Zewu-Jun and Chifeng-Zun back to town,” she informs him and he falls in quickly at her side.

“Where is Lan-er-gongzi?” Wen Ning asks with a concerned glance over his shoulder. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. He and Wei Wuxian might finally be ready to stop acting like they don’t want to be together,” she replies so flippantly that Lan Xichen is suddenly grateful for Nie Mingjue’s hand at his elbow as he stumbles ever so slightly on the uneven terrain in response.

“O-oh,” Wen Ning stammers out and Lan Xichen is abruptly sure that if it were still possible he would be blushing. “Well that’s nice I suppose. Is Wei-gongzi going to go to Jin Ling’s one-month and see his sister?”

Wen Qing glances back at them at that, though what she’s measuring them for Lan Xichen isn’t exactly sure. “Whose idea was it to have him there?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Wangji’s.”

“Oh yes then I daresay he’ll go no matter if it’s a trap or not,” she remarks so dryly that she actually gets a chuckle out of Nie Mingjue, which is startling to say the least. Lan Xichen looks at him, trying to gauge what he’s thinking, but he’s got his expression carefully locked into stern, unreadable lines. They continue on in silence down the mountain and back to their inn in the town. Only when the Wen siblings have departed and he and Nie Mingjue have retired to their rooms does he unbend enough for Lan Xichen to see that he’s deep in thought.

“Do you think Jin Guangshan truly means to destroy the amulet?” Nie Mingjue finally asks when Lan Xichen has waited him out long enough for him to speak his mind.

“In all honesty no, I do not. At least not right away, and power corrupts. We already know he is a man of vices, it’s no secret that power is one of them.”

“Can you really offer the Wens land and protection without consulting anyone else? The elders, your uncle?”

“It will have to go through more official channels I suppose to actually begin the movement – we’ll need to send resources to keep them clothed and fed while travelling and cultivators to keep them safe, after all. But yes, that is something I can offer them. I will make my case to the elders with what we saw here today, Wangji is my witness, and you could be too. They’re nothing but humble citizens who simply bear the curse of an unfortunate name through no fault of their own. So many Wens have already paid the ultimate price for what Wen Ruohan has done. There’s nothing and nobody in this last remaining group to be so afraid of that they must be eliminated. The only part that should worry the rest of the sects is that Wei Wuxian is at the helm, but their fear of him is slightly misguided as well. I believe once Uncle and the rest of the elders know the truth they will allow such peaceful people to live and work in Gusu.”

“Hm. Well alright then, the Nie will support you.”

That pulls Lan Xichen up short and he stares at Nie Mingjue with undisguised shock. Nie Mingjue at first only raises an eyebrow at him, but after another moment he exhales sharply and shakes his head as if bedeviled by a fly.

“I still don’t like the Wens but I can’t in good conscience lead them to the slaughter. If you want to protect them, then protect them. And I’ll protect you. Maybe we can finally take Jin Guangshan down a notch or two in the process, I definitely won’t be opposed. Nor do I think Jiang Wanyin will take much issue with it either, not if it can get him his brother back. And we already know Jiang Yanli will support anything that repairs Wei Wuxian’s reputation, and Jin Zixuan will support anything that makes Jiang Yanli happy. I’d say the winds are in our favor if we act too quickly for Jin Guangshan to counter it.”

Lan Xichen can still only blink as Nie Mingjue finally cracks his expression to smile ever so slightly and offer him a wink.

“You should have agreed to strategize with me days ago, none of this would have been so surprising, I thought it may become an option. Now it’s just up to Wangji to talk Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing into agreeing.”

“I believe he will find it in himself to be persuasive, and Wen Qing at least is quite sensible. I believe she understands their position well and knows that it is not sustainable for much longer. Or that even if it were, it would be better if their people could get the care and treatment they need to thrive, not just to survive. I believe they’ll agree.”

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t return once during the three days Wen Qing asked for them to wait. On the morning of the fourth day Wen Ning returns for them to bring them back up the mountain where they find Lan Wangji kneeling in the dirt with A-Yuan perched happily in his lap chattering away to Wei Wuxian, who is sitting far closer than necessary to listen as the rest of the Wens bustle around them, hurrying from field to field at a much quicker pace than mere days ago. Wen Qing meets them again at the entrance to the main clearing, arms once again crossed over her chest as she eyes them up like a hawk studying its prey.

“We accept. We’ll all come to Gusu with everything we can carry to start things anew.”

And just like that Lan Xichen gains a new branch of his family in the most unlikely of places.

#the untamed fanfic #Wangxian #Nielan #Lan Xichen #Lan Wangji #Nie Mingjue #Wei Wuxian #Wen Qing #Wen Ning #Prompt fill #I hope this works! #@ everyone who's sent in a request over the last couple of weeks: #I see the requests I promise and I'm trying to come up with stuff to write haha #It's been a busy couple of weeks

[zevexsii]

eli clark x reader sfw + nsfw hcs (gn s/o)

obligatory mention of how much i LOVE this man

cut for length and nsfw content

sfw

mom friend energy. eli probably has some of the healthiest behavior, at least comparatively, considering the rest of the manor is an absolute trash fire(loving). 

not saying that eli hasn’t witnessed his fair share of trouble! there’s a lot that he has to deal with- mainly guilt, considering he has a fiance and… feelings for someone else. any sort of relationship would happen very slowly, and you would have to be very open and honest- communication is absolutely key. 

eli lowkey worries that his feelings for you are temporary, seeing as he has no communication with gertrude, the next thought he has is that he’s using you in place of her. it’s terrifying for both of you. 

he isn’t, though! it’s definitely hard to stop thinking about; eli can tell when you’re upset or worried (part of his abilities is being able to perceive the emotions of those around him, to an extent), so please sit down with him and talk it out. eli’s anxiety rises with yours, and it pains him when he can’t comfort you :((

eli would like to continue wearing his engagement ring if you're alright with that. the entire arrangement is complicated and needless to say, eli has a lot of feelings about the subject.

moving on! eli's favourite forms of intimacy involve physical intimacy and words of affirmation <3 i hc that seeing through brooke rose saps a lot of energy out of both eli and brooke, so eli likes to keep his arm linked in yours, even if it isn’t all about having a guide. so pda… but not really? he isn’t opposed to sweet kisses on the forehead or cheek in public, just nothing big. 

eli kind of zones out a lot?? you’ll be in the mess hall, and eli will abruptly lean his head on your shoulder, no matter what you’re doing, humming contentedly under his breath. he’s not trying to stop you from eating, no, not at all! eli just has airhead tendencies and you love him for it. 

if you tend to overwork yourself, or just have trouble taking care of yourself in general, eli won’t be having any of that. since you can’t prioritize yourself, he’ll have to do it for you. 

when eli goes to bed or notices that you haven’t eaten yet, he’s right at your side, gently tapping your shoulder and handing you a glass of water or offering to bring you something up from mess hall. eli understands if you’re working on a deadline, but it’s still concerning enough for him to drag you off for a short nap or two. 

eli is the best cuddler around. lay down with him once, he’ll be pretzeled around you in no time- you’ll never want to get up and that’s the point. he’s not really picky about positions, but his favourites involve ones where he can gently run his fingers along the outline of your facial features (if you’re alright with that, of course). his smooth fingers ghost the outline of your lips, and eli’s smile outshines the sun.

he isn’t the best cook, but he’s more than willing to help out or learn! it’ll be a little more difficult, but eli isn’t opposed to trying things that make you happy or help out.

it may not be too noticeable under eli’s thick robes, but he’s got a really soft tummy and is pretty chubby! his cheeks are real round too- hold them and he’ll lean into your palms, nuzzling gently into your touch. 

pull him onto your lap or hold him!! please don’t let him pull the “i’ll crush you,”. if he does, simply shush him and rest your arm around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head every now and then. he’ll be asleep in no time. eli goes soft if you want to hold him on your lap or vice versa. when he’s got you in his arms, your head nestled in the crook of his neck, there are no words for the warm, protective feeling he gets in his chest.

he prefers holding you most of the time, but if eli’s craving reassurance and comfort, your arms are his hideaway. 

eli is an oblivious petname enthusiast (going both ways), his favourites being dear, darling, and love. hearing the soft tone of your warm words alone makes his heart melt- regardless of what you’re saying. 

another thing that makes eli indescribably soft is seeing you interact with brooke rose. if eli’s companion isn’t with him, it’s common for miss rose to be found perched near you, either being fed or keeping a careful watch over your shoulder. 

brooke also keeps a close eye on you during matches! she knows eli holds you in high priority. if you’ve perfectly timed a calibration or kited the hunter for an impressive run, you’ll hear a faint hoot of support off in the distance as brooke flies back to eli. 

eli is normally very confident in his qualities as a partner, but every now and then, something completely throws him off and into a puddle of self-doubt and crippling fear of inadequacy. during these times, eli needs a lot of one-on-one attention and verbal reassurance. 

he’s also sort of obtained the role of “therapist friend” among the manor inhabitants and sometimes finds himself bending over backward to help others. this trait is exposed in the way that eli will try to brush over the severity of his emotions and problems when he vents to you. 

make sure to interrupt him there and encourage him to discuss things thoroughly. he’ll be truly grateful that you noticed. 

eli really enjoys couple baths :) he’s a little insecure about his body at first, but reassure him, or give him privacy to join you in the sea of bubbles and sweet-smelling oils chosen specifically for their relaxing aromas. 

nsfw

eli is a very soft lover. rather vanilla, but isn’t opposed to indulging you in any of your lighter kinks. he’d rather not touch anything that requires a safeword. sex with eli is about love and pleasure, going both ways. 

big switch energy and will take whatever role his partner needs for the time being. eli’s a little hesitant about initiating, but he’s stellar when it comes to picking up on seemingly minuscule hints- the lingering touches and hazy look in your eyes when you look his way. it drives him insane, but eli waits for the safety of a  private space to nestle himself close to you, his hands slipping lower and lower before one of you finally plants your lips on the others.

as far as libidos go, eli’s sort of casually horny all the time. he’s not going to pressure you into doing anything prematurely though, don’t worry- it takes a while for him to even consider having sex with you, and even longer for the worst of the guilt to subside. 

loves it when you ride him. especially after a difficult match; eli is sore and tired, all he wants is your warmth and a reminder that you adore him. 

seeing as his sight definitely isn’t the best, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to bring brooke rose into this, eli would prefer a more vocal partner. whimper about how good he feels as you bounce up and down on his cock. eli lives to have you go to town on him, using him completely for your own pleasure, milking him for all he’s worth, while your mindless whimpers give away how close you are to cumming. 

eli has an obvious praise kink. worship his body or murmur out your need for him, and his round face flushes completely, precum drizzling from the tip of his dick. he’s decently sized too, roughly fifteen cm in length and twelve cm in girth.

not too fond of oral- receiving, that is. it feels too harried and impersonal for eli to be satisfied with it completely. the only time he’ll ask you to suck him off is when he’s completely exhausted or he’s jealous. on the other hand, one of eli’s favourite places to be is between your legs, caged in by your shaking thighs and driven on by your gasps and moans of pleasure. eli is completely enamoured by all parts of your body, but your thighs are one of his greatest weaknesses. 

when eli tops, he prefers missionary. that way, he’s got the sight of your beautiful face pinned down beneath him burned into his brain, your mutual devotion to each other immortalized in indescribable ecstasy. he has to be as close to you as he can get, too. 

without realizing it, eli begs for you quite often. neither of you really see it as begging, but either way, eli’s breathless pleas of “y/n, please, i need you,” send you reeling. 

eli’s pace is slow and sweet, gaining momentum as he reaches climax and/or you signal him to speed up.

can go for a max of three rounds. eli’s massive creampie kink is activated when he pulls out; the sight of his seed leaking from your soaked hole leaves him seeing stars. most times this leads to an impromptu second, or even third round if you’re up for it.

if you’re feeling a fair bit more dominant, eli is completely fine with penetration. he’ll be extra vocal if you tease him lightly while you prep him. every curl of your fingers inside of him coaxes breathy whines and desperate groans from eli’s heaving chest, and he wouldn’t have it any other way <3

interlock your fingers with his while you milk eli’s prostate, his chest heaving with heavy pants and moans in perfect tandem to the rocking of your hips. remind him how beautiful he is, totally full of you and lost in every slight shift of your cock or strap-on. 

eli won’t bring it up, but it becomes pretty obvious early on that he’s super into overstimulation. you’ve corrupted his thoughts entirely, every sense has been washed over by mindless requests of “more, more, more, please, and oh god i can’t take it anymore, y/n, please-,”

yeah, you’ve completely destroyed him. 

aftercare is tender and sweet, just like eli. depending on who’s subbed, eli will softly work shampoo into your hair, letting you lean back against him, or you’ll gently run a washcloth over eli’s back, applying pressure to any residual tightness in his shoulders. afterward, offer to grab some snacks or water from the kitchens and crawl into bed with your exhausted lover, snoozing off to whispered praises and lovely nothings.

#catch me adding ANOTHER character to the comfort list #eli clark x reader #idv #identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader headcanons #idv x reader #identity v x reader headcanons #eli clark #eli clark idv #idv seer #identity v seer #idv seer x reader #identity v seer x reader #eli clark x reader headcanons #seer x reader headcanons

[soyforramen]

If I'm not too late, for the writing prompts: 9 and/or 47, dealer's choice

·  “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

·  You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

Angst below, in an AU timeline...ish

 --

             It felt like a fire had lit up her lungs, the smoke crawling up her throat and choking her until her breath rasped out into the cold night air.  Behind her, Jughead stumbled, his breathing coming like tidal waves.  Betty spared a quick glance at him as she yanked at his arm and pointed to the ridge beyond.  

             “Just over there,” she lied.  

             It was becoming easier and easier to lie to him.

             On their way up the ridge her feet slipped in the muddy wet leaves.  Her knees hit the ground and her teeth rattled hard enough to see stars.  Jughead slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her up the rest of the hill, his breath erratic.

             It was another ten minutes until they finally reached Archie’s car, the only one in the Sweetwater parking lot.  Not many people went hiking at 4 a.m., let alone to go chase down a kidnapped ex.

             Thunder rolled above them, the vibrations lingering deep in her bones, and they leaned around the car.  Jughead’s hand were on his knees, his breath gasping and desperate. His wiped at the water trickling down his face and coughed hard.  Betty kneeled on the ground, hands grasping at the loose asphalt as she forced herself to focus on counting rather than what she’d encountered tonight.

             “What the hell was that for?” Jughead wheezed.

             Betty shook her head, still unable to talk through her sore throat.  She let out a slow breath – 1, 2, 3, 4 – and breathed in again.

             “Why’d you try and save me?” he yelled over the thunder.  A crack of lightening illuminated them and she was startled by the intensity in his eyes.

             “Did you want me to leave you back in there?” she shot back.  Stars colored her eyes as she tried to stand, and she listed to one side, grasping for the car to keep her balance.

             Jughead snarled and paced towards the far end of the parking lot, ignoring the pouring rain around them.  From his limp, Betty assumed he had a Charlie Horse.  Betty wanted to chide him about not taking care of his body, about his inability to treat it as something better than a dumpster for all his repressed feelings.  It wasn’t her place, though.  Not anymore.

             Besides, it seemed cruel to point out, especially after he’d been on the verge of being tortured –

             “I don’t need your help,” he said when he returned, his words still punctured by small gasps.  “I had everything covered.”

             She snorted and stood up to face him.  A chill ran through her as the wind picked up, but she diverted the movement into massaging at her damaged wrist.  Jughead, still as perceptive as ever, didn’t miss her wince. He reached towards her, his eyes fixed on her wrist.  Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped short and bent over to retie his shoe.  

             Even from this angle Betty could see how thin he was.

             “I’m sure you did,” she said.  Even as the adrenaline seeped out of her body she still couldn’t keep the acid from her voice.  “That great, big escape plan of yours was going swell, though I’m curious as to what you were planning after you got chained up in the basement and held to the wall with duct tape.  Or did I miss something when I broke in?”

             Half her words were covered up by an angry burst of thunder.  Perhaps it was for the best; they’d both been through a lot.  Or, perhaps it would have been better to put it all out there, fight out their anger until there was nothing left remaining.

             Jughead’s lip curled, and Betty knew he’d caught enough.

             Betty narrowed her eyes.  Despite everything, she still didn’t know whether to trust him. There had been too much time between them, too much space and anger and -  Not to mention his aliens and her serial killer.

             “You can’t drive stick with a broken wrist.”

             “It’s not broken,” she said petulantly, her lip pursed like Juniper’s when she didn’t get the last cookie.

             Knowing that he was right, she dug into her coat pocket, angry with Jughead and herself.  Another gust of wind blew through their wet cloths, and they huddled into the cab of the truck.  As the engine turned over, Jughead scrubbed at the window with his damp shirtsleeves, trying to break through the fog that had followed them.  The water streaked across, unable to change, and he gave up on the idea.  With a grunt, he shifted into drive and turned towards town.

             “Stupid,” he muttered, and Betty side-eyed him.  

             Her first instinct was that he was talking about her, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping.  After everything she’d done tonight, and he still couldn’t think anyone could care for him.  Betty stared out of the window, her fingers pushing and prodding against the delicate skin on her wrist, revealing in the sharp jolts of pain and irritation. Eventually the pain cleared through her fog of anger and she realized he was likely talking to himself.

             “Just –“

             Jughead stopped, cursing under his breath.  They came to a blind curve, halfway under water, and he shifted to first gear.  As they crept along Betty’s eyes began to shut.  She could feel her muscles relaxing as the adrenaline wore off, and the only thing that kept her awake was the potholes in the road.  In the flashes of lightening above them, she could see Jughead’s jaw clenching as he worked to keep something in check.

             Fine, she thought idly as darkness consumed her. Let him be mad.  It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t want to be near her.

             She was startled awake when the engine stopped. In front of them was the Andrews’ home, normally bright and cheery, but in this light it was eerily still in the pouring rain.

             “He’s not home tonight,” Jughead said flatly.  “You can stay in his room.  Unless you want to go home.”

             Betty shook her head, trying not to let her fear overtake her.  The house was empty and would be for the next week.  They still hadn’t heard anything about Polly, and Alice had taken the twins upstate to try and get their mind off of it.  After tonight (any night, every night, ever since – she cut off that particular voice, struggling to keep that terrible week out of her head), the last thing she wanted to do was to be alone.  

             The thought sent a shudder through her and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep the chill from sprinting down her back.

             Jughead nodded, still staring straight ahead.  He’d pulled the keys from the ignition and was now jangling them in his hand.  He opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, not seeming to care whether Betty followed him or not.  She scrambled out of the car, towards the front door and slipped in after him.

             She held her breath, waiting in the long stretch of dark, for the lights to turn on.   When they did, it was nothing more than Archie’s living room, still messy and smelling slightly of old clothing and pizza.  

             Jughead stalked towards the kitchen, his face set in an emotion she couldn’t discern anymore.  A gut feeling told her it was because she was a stranger here, one who was encroaching not only on his ‘investigation’ but also on his personal space.  

             “I’ll make coffee,” Jughead said gruffly.  “Take a shower or you’ll catch a cold.”

             The way he’d said it, matter-of-factly and without any emotion behind it, contrasted so sharply with the fact that he’d remembered. He remembered, and wanted to let her know he’d remembered that she was prone to get colds when it rained. These little things twisted the knife deeper into her back and she tried not to think about her last foray into this home.

             “Thanks,” Betty said softly.

             She barely glanced at the mirror when she stepped into the bathroom.  A thick cover of mud coated her lower half, while leaves had taken up residence in her hair.  Her wrist, still throbbing and sore, was a swollen bright red.  As bad as she might have looked, Betty revealed in the metaphorical duality of it all.  Long ago, she might have said she was a good person, untouched by the corruption of life. Now, though, she felt as dirty and broken as she  looked.

             Pity about the boots though.  Real suede apparently didn’t mix well with the more wild side of life.  Betty didn’t dare think about what it would cost to buy Veronica a new pair.

             The pipes groaned as the water warmed up.  Peeling off her clothes was a chore, the damp, clinging clothes didn’t want to cooperate.  The wet slap of them on the floor was a loud echo as she stepped into the shower.  

             The warm water was practically sinful after tonight. She let it cascade down her skin and shut her eyes to the world around her.  Every inch of her body felt sore and bruised.  She dreaded even thinking about how she’d feel tomorrow.

             A draft of cold air sent goosebumps along her skin and Betty stilled.  She trusted Jughead, of course, and yet…

             The door shut again, and she peered around the curtain to find a set of clothing on the counter.  Her heart stopped when she recognized a grey S from so long ago.  Reluctant to let it out of her sight, Betty pulled the shower curtain to.   He’d always had a bad habit of forming sentimental attachments to things, to items that had no right to such kindness.

             But to have kept that shirt all these years?  To have kept her shirt?  Surely not.  Surely her eyes, tired and sore from lack of sleep, had deceived her.

             The ghost of her guilt churned again, deeper this time. A sharp pain went through her stomach – of guilt?  regret? hope?

             Betty picked up the bar of soap in her uninjured hand and scrubbed at her skin, hot tears running cold against her cheeks.  Careless.  She was always so careless with everything worth while.  Archie’s hands ghosted across her skin, his lips, his whispers they both knew were lies.  She was only looking for an escape, not another well to get trapped in.  This time, though, she couldn’t think of a single way to escape.

             A sob broke from her lips, and then another, and another.  She shoved her fist against her mouth and curled up at the bottom of the tub.   It was all she could do to keep from breaking up.  A part of her, the one that saw reason, was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier tonight when she’d seen Jughead half-conscious with a red welt on his forehead.  His head lolled absently against a support beam.  His hands tightly bound with duct tape.  Tight enough they were turning purple.  Those stupid glasses lay at his feet only to reflect the beam of her flashlight onto the chains that bound him.

             Images, real and imagined, flashed before her eyes. The well.  TBK laughing above her.  Polly, bound and gagged in the back of a cab.  The twins, facedown in Sweetwater. Squeeky Fromme’s dead eyes staring up at the night sky, milky and flat.  Jughead’s hands –

             Betty shook her head, trying to shake the images away. No, that hadn’t happened, she chanted internally.  It’s not real.  

             Not this time.  

             Long after the water had run cold, Betty finally came back to herself.  Her movements were slow and forced; her head felt uselessly full of cotton.  With a groan, she stood up and gasped as pins and needles threw her back to the ground.  Unable to do anything, Betty turned off the water, gritting her teeth as she waited for the feeling to come back into her legs.  

             Into her life, even.

             Now, with only the steady drip of a leaky faucet to keep her company, Betty heard just how quiet it was in the house.  The wind blew outside, stronger than ever, but it seemed as if the house itself had gone into hibernation.  Jughead had likely gone to bed, she realized.  Or maybe he’d been smart enough to know he should see a doctor after all.

             Perhaps that would be best.  Then they could both pretend tonight had never happened and go back to the chilly detente they’d found themselves living in.  

             With an anticipatory wince, Betty hauled herself up and out of the tub.  As she reached for the towel, she realized that the shirt loudly proclaimed ‘El Royale Gym’ in bright red letters.  She scowled at the dancing rooster, ordering it to be something other than it was. Clearly, though, she’d been wrong.

             Roughly, she pulled the shirt over her head, her damp hair catching at the collar, and stepped into the gym shorts.  Why she put herself through this, why she tortured herself with something so impossible –

             “Coffee’s on the counter,” Jughead said when she stepped out.  His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screen.

             At least some things never changed, she supposed. Even that, though, rang hollow after what they’d been through tonight.  

             Betty wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for something to occupy herself with.  She sipped at it a moment, giving him the chance to say something.  Do something.  When he didn’t, she didn’t know whether she felt relief, or disappointment.

             It wasn’t until she reached the stairs that he finally spoke.

             “Just tell me why you did it,” he said.  

She hesitated, knowing that this was her own personal Maginot line. Crossing this would mean the end of one life, and the beginning of another strange reality, one where she would have no control.

“Why did you come after me?  Why didn’t you call Sheriff Keller, or Archie, or –“

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Betty said.  Her voice was no more than a soft sigh, but it was enough to bring about a sudden calmness.

The calm before the storm, she thought morbidly.  Whatever would happen now, whatever was said…

She waited, counting to a hundred.  When he didn’t say anything, she set the coffee down on a side table and went to Archie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her.

(Part 2 here)

#bughead fanfic #prompt #riverdale #but instead of saying art i'm saying angst (with the long a like ahngst) #pretend i'm posing like that art dude from the iron giant

[fatgum-sugarplum]

honey make this easy

For @natsuonii and @viixens Creature Feature Collab!

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Violence mention, death mention, murder mention,  blood mention, choking, light condescension, bittersweet ending, smut

It was his eyes. Those dark eyes that held you in your sleep, following you through nightmare and dream alike, those dark eyes that belonged to a dead man. 

“We killed you. You’re dead.” The words were barely a whisper in the dim light of the room. They trembled like your limbs. 

“It didn’t take.”

18+ Only Minors DNI

It had been quite awhile since that fateful night, the night you’d chosen exactly whose side you were on. No going back from what you’d done. Nights like this it kept you awake, the images running through your mind like some movie you’d seen one too many times. You always revisited it somehow. You shouldn’t feel guilty for it, not with everything that’s come after, not with the lows you’d sunk to since, but somehow…

It was his eyes. They were dark enough to fall into and drown and if things had been different you could see yourself doing exactly that over and over again. Instead he was six feet under and you were absolutely the one who put him there whether you pulled the trigger yourself or not. You’d thrown your lot in with your current employer and hardly looked back. Everyone after him had been a breeze, some of them you even sent under entirely on your own. Their eyes didn’t haunt you, their voice a ghost in your ears. They didn’t make you wish you’d been different, not like he did. 

Tonight it should have been something else keeping you awake. Bodies had been piling up, bodies of people you knew and worked with. Eviscerated brutally, but according to the whispers that was never the cause of death. No matter the cuts and lacerations, every last one had the telltale angry purple markings across their neck of strangulation. To hear your partner say it, it looked like a hell of a painful way to go. It should be thoughts of them coming for you next. Instead it was that long ago night that you just couldn’t seem to get away from.

A sound somewhere in the quiet of your apartment caught your attention. It was mundane enough, a sort of rustling sound that easily could have been the curtains or your cat, but some deep instinct inside of you awoke that said it was anything but the usual. Your hair stood on edge and all you could think of was danger. You sat up in bed staying stock still as you strained your ears to hear anything else. A heavy silence was all that hung, somehow a physical weight on your chest and shoulders, threatening to choke you with its presence. Something was wrong. Something was here. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the sensation made you feel distinctly prey-like. 

Slowly you put your feet to the floor and started your way out of your bedroom, groping blindly for the first thing you could grab for a weapon as you kept your eyes up, scanning the room. You froze in your motions when your eyes finally landed on a figure in the corner of the room next to the now open window. It was tall, masculine as best you could tell in the darkness, wearing all black. Despite everything about your occupation as the right hand to a villain, dangerous in your own right, you found yourself shaking. You opened your mouth to ask him who he was when he moved, sliding the window closed and reaching next to him to flick on the light. 

It was his eyes. Those dark eyes that held you in your sleep, following you through nightmare and dream alike, those dark eyes that belonged to a dead man. 

“We killed you. You’re dead.” The words were barely a whisper in the dim light of the room. They trembled like your limbs. 

“It didn’t take.” The voice was gruff, low. You remembered it well.

“Why are you here? How did you even find me?” You paused, a cold realization hitting you. The bodies. Quieter this time, “Are you going to kill me?” 

He didn’t answer, moving from his place near the window to your couch where he lounged far too casually. He didn’t regard you fully, instead glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Clearly he wasn’t concerned about you attempting to fight him. “Where’s your boss?” 

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked again, moving slightly closer to him on shaking legs.

“Are you going to answer?” 

You swallowed. Did you want to live? Absolutely. Betraying your boss would kill you just as quickly as he would, though maybe less painfully. Maybe. He just as easily could torture you for hours for your insurrection, make you die begging and pleading for forgiveness because there’d be no point in begging for your life. But maybe…

“I find it hard to believe that none of us answered.” Your voice had more of its steel back now. 

He sighed and ran a hand through a mess of black hair. For some reason the only thing you could think of was how soft it looked. How it might feel between your own fingers. You shook the thought away before it could take root any further. “Think so little of your colleagues?” The question had no actual interest in it. 

“I just don’t think many of us are so blindly loyal that we’d rather die than turn in our employer. We can find other work.” 

“Are you?” 

“I’m deciding.” You moved to your arm chair across from the couch, closer than he seemed to expect by the raised eyebrow and quiet interest in your form. 

“What is he to you?”

“Money.” 

“You’d kill a stranger for money.”

“I didn’t kill you.” 

“Funny how you thought I meant me.” He sat up then, leaning in. You noted how he seemed almost weary. Was it some sort of trick to make you feel more at ease before the kill? Or was it an unintentional slip of a mask? Maybe he just didn’t care what you saw. You didn’t care to question it much further.

“So what are you then?” You leaned back in the chair. “We buried you.” 

“Like I said, it didn’t take.” He chuckled, the noise sending a heat through your limbs you didn’t expect. He spread his arms in a mock showmanship and in an exaggerated and exhausted tone, “I’ve returned for my vengeance.” 

You snorted. “Been working your way up the chain? Half of these people weren’t even working with us when…” you swallowed. 

“When your boss put a bullet between my eyes? I know. It’s the message that counts, I think,” He frowned. Definitely a slip. 

“Do you...know what you’re doing?” You ventured. 

“Most of the time.” 

“He’s either at the base or his apartment.” 

“Good girl.” He rumbled. That sent a shiver down your spine, the heat in your core growing worse. God, he had to know, didn’t he? He stood, patting your head twice before starting for the window again. 

“Wait.” You didn’t turn but heard his footsteps stop. “What are you going to do?” 

“I thought a smart thing like you would know.” 

“I was there. Why only kill him?” Maybe it wasn’t the best question to ask a man who’d already murdered several of your colleagues, but thinking before you spoke was never your strong suit. You felt more than heard him turn to regard you, and then he was at your back, a hand on the chair as he leaned into your ear. 

“It’s all purpose, drive. I want to sink a knife into him and let him see just how it feels. You…” he paused and you could swear you heard him growl, “I think I’ll sink something else into you.” And then he was gone. 

The next two hours passed at a snail’s pace. You couldn’t get back to the comfort of your bed and so opted for returning to the armchair you’d previously been in, curling up as you turned on the television for background noise. You thumbed your phone and swallowed down a nervous lump. What did you just do? What if word got out, what if they all knew you’d done it? You could skip town. You’d done it before, you could do it again. Disappear, become a ghost--

No. No, no one would know. You had to believe that. No one would know, and this...man? Monster? Your own ghost? You knew his name, saw it in the news, why was it so damn hard to just think of him with his name. He--Aizawa--wouldn’t come back and you’d be left alone to follow the new boss or pack up and find your own. Hell, maybe it was all a dream. Dead men don’t walk. 

But you wanted him to come back, didn’t you? Wanted to hear that growl in your ear again, the strangely alluring danger of his presence. Wanted to know what the strength he possessed that led so many of your colleagues to the grave could do when pinning you to your bed. They weren’t useful thoughts but god were they not going away any time soon. 

Your eyes snapped to the window as a soft click reached your ears and broke through your thoughts. Sure enough there was the form you’d been half hoping and half dreading to see once more, crawling through with a predator’s ease. It set goosebumps dancing across your skin, a soft warmth radiating from your abdomen through the rest of your body. Your eyes met his and for a brief moment you imagined him a secret lover sneaking through your window at night against both of your better judgement. The metallic scent of blood threw you out of that fantasy fast enough, grounded you to the reality of the situation. He maybe hadn’t been before--no, he certainly hadn’t been before--but he was a killer now. A killer who had dispatched most of the crew you ran with. Could you have been so stupid as to believe he wasn’t viewing you as a loose end? So daft as to think the words he’d left you with earlier weren’t malice? 

“You’re still here.” His deep voice broke the silence between you. You swallowed. 

“Was I not supposed to be?”

“The smart thing would have been to run.” He crossed to you, slow and deliberate, “After all, what can I do to you? You must have thought it over, you’re an intelligent girl.” If anyone else had dared to call you a girl of all things you’d have put a bullet between their eyes. As it stood, hearing it rumble from his chest had you clenching around nothing. 

“Maybe I wanted to see what you meant by ‘something else.’” You mused, swallowing down any fear. He chuckled at that, leaning in as he placed a hand on the back of the chair above you. He dwarfed you in this position. The smell of blood was stronger now with him so close, but you couldn’t make out any of it on him. It was almost as though he was the scent. Like the deed he’d just done marked him somehow. It thrilled you more than it should have. 

He brought his face close to yours so his breath ghosted across your lips as he spoke, “You know, for a woman who stood by while her boss murdered me...you’re awful compelling.” 

“Compelling?” The question was far quieter and breathier than you meant for it to be. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, so loud you could swear he could hear it. His soft chuff of amusement didn’t help with that notion. 

He ran the back of his free hand slowly down your cheek, along your jaw, down your neck. His eyes never left yours, watching for every minute reaction. You were giving him a damn feast, your pupils dilated, your lips trembling, short, soft breaths leaving your slightly parted mouth. He wanted to eat you up, take everything you’d give him and then some, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to savor this last meal. 

Aizawa had felt himself slipping the minute your boss’s body had crumpled to the floor in front of him. He didn’t question why the force that had pulled him from the grave decided you weren’t on his revenge list. He was more than happy to leave you alive, more than happy to use his last night on this earth absolutely ravaging your body. He’d left that place without his customary clean up, quite aware that even if there was evidence left behind it wouldn’t matter to him come morning. Besides, he had a different kind of prey to get back to. 

Now here you were, trembling beneath him, so beautifully conflicted between if you should run or if you should give in. As his hand ghosted across the skin of your neck he turned it suddenly, pressing down ever so slightly. Your breath hitched as you involuntarily arched it into his grasp, a silent plea for more. A beat. Your eyes locked together. A beat. 

All at once the tension snapped as his lips came crashing down on yours with a growl that was absolutely feral. You moaned into the kiss, hands coming up to tangle in that soft hair as you roughly tugged. He groaned in kind, pressing down harder against your neck, just enough to cut off your airway. The deprivation was absolutely delicious. His heated kisses started to trail along your jaw, mixed with rough nips and licks. You angled your body in an attempt to press it up against his and he chuckled. 

“What a needy little mouse…” He let go of your neck and listened to you take that instinctive gasp of breath to fill your lungs once again. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, biting down hard. You whined, tugging hard at his hair again which earned you a growl in turn. Fuck you needed him in you. 

“P-please…” 

“Please what, little mouse?” 

“Need more, please!” You whimpered out, squirming in that chair. He watched you with such a fierce hunger in his eyes you were certain you’d die on the spot. 

“More what, little mouse? Be specific for me.” 

God damnit. You squirmed more, movements desperate. “Need you against me, please...want you in me…” Some part of you registered that you were supposed to have more dignity than this. Maybe it was the danger or the regret or some fucked up mix of the two but he was making you absolutely dizzy with want in a way no one else had before. 

“There we go. Was that so hard?” He practically purred into your ear just before yanking you up against his frame. You remembered how strong he’d been before, how difficult putting him down had been for you and your boss, but god it was like it had been enhanced tenfold. You pushed against him, hands feeling along the corded muscles beneath his clothes as he kissed you, walking you backwards toward your bedroom. 

You managed somehow to not stumble, falling back the second you felt your legs hit your bed. You scrambled back up to the pillows, keeping your eyes on him the entire time as he followed you on hands and knees. He reminded you of a panther stalking its prey, gorgeous and so very lethal. You shivered, biting your lip at the thought. He brought his lips to yours again, tongue finding its way into your eager open mouth to taste you. 

You started at his shirt, tugging it up as far as you could without his help. He broke the kiss long enough to tug it over his head and throw it to the side before diving back in, holding you close against him as your hands traveled along his bare skin. It didn’t take long for him to treat you in kind, hands fisting in the material of your flimsy tank top and wrenching it violently. The sound of ripping fabric sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You could get a new top later, right now all you cared about was getting the rest of these damn clothes out of the way. 

You pushed your shorts and panties down your legs, impatiently kicking them off the second you could. He watched you, not bothering with his own further than moving them down enough to pull his hard cock out. You licked your lips as your eyes flicked between his face and that damn beautiful cock. You spread your legs for him and he smirked. 

“Beg.” 

You groaned, pressing your head back against the pillows. “I already did!” 

“I could just go. Leave you soaked and wanting, poor little mouse. You and I both know your toys just won’t make you cum like I can.” The wicked, lopsided grin on his face made you want to punch him. You whined loudly. 

“Please fuck me, Shota...” You squirmed your hips a little, giving him your best doe eyes, praying it would make him merciful, “Please...want you to make me cummm…” 

He leaned in then, caging you in beneath him as he nipped your earlobe, “Aw, you do know my name, little mouse.” He pushed in then, using your slick to hilt himself entirely inside your warm cunt. You let out a ragged gasp, hands flying up to grip his back, digging your nails in. He groaned, resting his head against your shoulder for a brief moment, “Fuck you’re tight.” 

He started moving in earnest then, hips snapping against yours as he drove his cock into your already sensitive hole over and over again. Little cries and curses left your mouth as he fucked you. God this was perfect, he was perfect. It felt like you were made just for him to break. If things had been different, maybe you could have had this every single night. The part of your mind that still clung to solid ground felt the pang of guilt. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, letting him swallow up your noises. 

He gripped both your hands, holding them down against the mattress as he pushed up to get a better look at you, gaze ravenous as he took in your bouncing tits, the sweat sheening against your skin. They traveled to where his cock drove into your tight cunt, watching as he abused your soaking wet hole. Through gritted teeth, “Fuck baby you were made to take my cock.” 

You whined again, tightening around his thick length at his words. The heat in your core grew worse, a coil threatening to snap if wound too tight, and damn was he doing his best to do just that. You panted out between moans, listening to the groans and growls he let out above you, no thought at all for how loud either of you were being. Fuck the neighbors, they could listen in and wish they were getting fucked this good. 

“F-Fuck Sh..Sho gonna...gonna cummm~!” You managed, words clumsy on your tongue. He groaned, low and deep, fucking you harder into the mattress. You nearly screamed then, the pleasure too much to handle for your sensitive body. 

“That’s it, little mouse, cum on my dick..” He groaned out, a primal growl in his voice. You moaned loud, reaching up to grapple at his back as he let you out of his grasp to once again cage you beneath him, picking up the pace as his own thrusts became erratic. You dug angry red lines down his back as you came undone around him, that coil snapping inside you as you screamed out your pleasure. The deep groan in your ear as he pumped your abused cunt full of his cum had you tightening around him, milking his cock for all he was worth. 

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All notion of the passage of time was alien to you, the only thing keeping you grounded his hot skin against your own. The heat was almost suffocating. With it all still that scent of blood that you were certain now was just him. Slowly he pulled his cock from your dripping cunt, chuckling when you gasped in response. 

“Doing okay there, little mouse?” 

You snorted once you had your bearings, “Quiet.” 

“Never.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, far more affectionate than you expected for the situation, before rolling off of you onto his back. He draped an arm across his sweat slicked forehead and looked to you with tired eyes.

“Planning on staying then?” You questioned. You didn’t understand the anxiety that twisted in your gut in the split second it took for him to respond. 

“I’ve had a long night.” 

“You have.” 

“Let’s play pretend then. You let me hold you tonight.” 

“And pretend you won’t kill me in the middle of the night?” 

“And pretend I’m not the man you murdered.” He responded. There was an ice to the words that had your gut twisting again. You didn’t reply, just slotted your body against his, placing a hand on his chest that felt so cold to you now. You rested your head against his shoulder as he wound his free arm around you, pulling you in close. You waited a few beats, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. Why it struck you as odd took a few moments. Normally at this angle you’d have heard your partner for the night’s heartbeat hammering against his chest, but Aizawa’s own body was so silent. 

“Your heart--”

“Don’t.” 

“Right.” You swallowed. He may be walking around and, at least, semi-functioning, but he was still dead. You still did that. “In the morning…” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t be here.” 

“Right.” You fell silent then, a deep guilt and anxiety taking over the post-orgasm glow. You didn’t want him gone in the morning. You wanted to fix what you’d done, you wanted to have him here, to give him a proper apology. 

He let out a soft sigh. He expended more energy than he expected and already he could feel himself slipping away. You didn’t need to see it, should be asleep when he finally faded away. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. “Good night, little mouse.” Your soft breathing was his only response in the dark. Good, at least he tired you out properly. He pushed himself up slightly, looking down at your face. There was a troubled look on that sleeping face, one that some odd part of him wanted to soothe away. 

These feelings were confusing, too much for him to unpack in the short time he had left. At least they weren’t something he had to unpack, really. Just something he had to “live” moment to moment with. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, carefully untangled himself from you, and started for the door to your room when he paused. He reached down, scooped his shirt up from the floor, and left, draping it across the chair in your living room. 

In the morning you wandered bleary eyed from your cold bed to the soft light of the living room. The window was partially opened. You frowned, crossing to it to close it when your bare foot stepped into a soft pile of...something. You looked down, squinting. Ash. Next to the window was a small pile of ash. Your eyes scanned the room then, landing on the black shirt laying across the back of your chair and you knew. 

Gone. He was gone. Mission complete, nothing tethering him to the world anymore. You pulled that shirt to your chest, cradling it against your heart. Your heart felt cold, that guilt writhing in you as you swallowed hard. You didn’t deserve what this meant, but you’d take it anyway. Forgiveness. 

#shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #eraserhead imagine #gonna make this a nice banner tomorrow but for tonight I must sleep

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long. 

—

main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus​ | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles​ | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp​ | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan​ | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles​​ | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much. 

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus​ | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup​ | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress​ | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace​ | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune​ | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau​ | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss​ | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry) 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou​ | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom​ | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily​ | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams​ | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere​ | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt​ | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie​ | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself) 

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny​ | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou​ | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz​ & read by @softlouislove​ | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace. 

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved​ | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies​ | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers​ | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting​ | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff. 

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#fic recs #my fic recs #28th appreciation #february recs #2021 recs #february 2021 recs #scheduled

[sahbibabe]

Hi! If you're up to it, can I request a smutty scenario with Sephiroth(crisis core or FFvii your choice) x fem reader with the prompts,' you're mine'+' be a good girl and spread you're legs'. I love soft Dom! Seph^^ thank you.

Here you go! I hope you like it! Tell me if you did and if not, what I can improve on! Enjoy!

A Divine Sweetness

Sephiroth x Fem! Reader

"Don't waste your time on war heroes and SOLDIERS," the neighborhood women would tell you behind their paperback novels, their voices chiding and petulant. It was as if they still considered you that young little girl they had watched play in the mud and taught like their own child. "No good can come out of being with someone like that."

    "Have you seen their eyes?" Your landlady would chortle as an afterthought. "They're as green as the mako reactors at night! It's almost like they're not human at all!"

      Those words rambled around in your head for a while after that, even if they weren't necessarily true. Sephiroth was a good man; he treated you like an equal, made sure you were happy and content in his own way. You did the same for him, but it was marginally more difficult when he closed himself off after a long mission to recuperate. He never denied you when you crawled into his lap and stroked his hair, even closing his eyes and leaning into it.

      There were times when he was testy with you, pushing your boundaries bit by bit when he was jealous or feeling a little neglected, the latter which only happened when he was away from you for weeks at a time on some mission in a faraway town, and the jealousy came into play whenever you got a little too comfortable with men that were strangers to you.

       Sephiroth didn't mind when you mock fought with Angeal or had Genesis recite Loveless for you, because those were innocent and playful things that were never malicious in intent. There were people that would, and could, hurt you to get to him, and that was always a possibility in his mind. Strangers were dangerous. Strangers could get you killed.

       So when you bumped into someone on the street just outside your apartment complex, holding your grocery bags full of vegetables and meat for your meal prep, you half expected it to be Sephiroth. He had made a routine of following you at night when it was more dangerous, giving you enough space to be on your own but close enough that if he needed to step in, he would. Then he would sneak up on you like the wicked cat he was and scare you to death, before thoroughly apologizing for it with his mouth.

       To your surprise, it wasn't Sephiroth who had bumped into you, but someone else with a very familiar set of eyes. Not as green, nor were there cat pupils, but still mako nonetheless. In the dark and under a street light, you almost thought he was Angeal, but when he sputtered an apology, you quickly took back your guess.

       He was young--very young, maybe nineteen or twenty if you had to hazard a very vague guess. And, if his clothes were anything to go by, SOLDIER Second Class.

        "I'm sorry, miss!" He apoligized, picking up one of the bell peppers that had fallen from your bag. He handed it to you with a charming smile. "Here you go!"

       "Thank you," you said warily, trying to keep yourself from making assumptions and turning tail, and tucked the pepper away. "I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going."

       "No, I wasn't paying attention," he laughed sheepishly. "I mean, who doesn't notice a pretty lady walking down the sidewalk towards you? Some SOLDIER I am."

       "So you are a SOLDIER," you said slowly, your fingers tapping a rhythm on your thigh. "What class?"

       You could just barely hear it, but Sephiroth was slowly pacing up behind you, drawn by the rapid taps of your fingers which had become code for him to 'rescue' you.

      "SOLDIER Second Class," he grinned, pointing a thumb at his chest. He seemed oblivious to Sephiroth walking up  behind you. "Bet you're impressed, huh?"

       "Not… really," you replied, timing your words just right so that Sephiroth was right behind you, close enough to reach back and touch. "I've seen more impressive."

       "Zack," Sephiroth demurred smoothly from beside you, hand resting on the small of your back. His thumb traced tiny patterns underneath your sweater. You watched as the boy went several shades paler, darting between you and the significantly taller man. "Aren't you supposed to be on patrol tonight?"

        "Y-Yes sir, Sephiroth," Zack replied with a faint stutter. "I'll get right back to it, uh, sir."

       You had a feeling that Sephiroth, up until this point, had been kind and cordial to the boy throughout his term as a SOLDIER, and that this was the first time he was having the "cat glare", as you dubbed it, leveled on him. Angeal and Genesis were plenty used to it, of course, but it was another thing to have it put on some unsuspecting SOLDIER boy.

       "See that you do," Sephiroth intoned and Zack was off, going at a half jog down the street. When he was gone, he pressed his hand into your back to encourage you to walk, heading towards your building.

       "Was that one of your subordinates?" You asked curiously, checking your bags for any stray vegetables that may have fallen. "You knew him."

      "He's young and gullible," he sighed, but you could detect that hint of jealousy anywhere. "And flirty. But he's got heart, or so Angeal says."

       "He seems young," you went on, poking the proverbial sleeping bear, withdrawing your keys from your pocket. "How young do you recruit?"

       "The youngest? I don't know." You could practically hear the jealousy now, disrupting his normal tone for something a little deeper. "Why?"

       "Just curious," you hummed and unlocked your door. As you were twisting the key in the lock, you felt him grow closer and closer, until you were pressed firmly against the door, legs and cheek cold against the metal. "Sephiroth?"

       You strangled a moan in your throat when he leaned close to your ear, ghosting his fingers up the inside of your thigh and up your skirt. Then completely engulfing the soft flesh hidden by your underwear with his hand, he squeezied firmly enough that you could feel his leather clad fingers digging into your core, pushing your panties to their limit.

       "You're mine," he whispered to your ear, his breath rolling over your face. It sent bolts of electricity down your spine, your underwear rapidly becoming wet and uncomfortable. "Mine, and no one else's. Do you understand?"

       When you failed to answer him right away, too busy trying to calm down your racing heart and greedy lungs, he squeezed you harder, not enough to hurt but to where you instinctively clamped your thighs closed around his hand, his gloved knuckles digging into the tendon of your leg.

        "Do you understand me, pet?" He repeated, further punctuating his question by pressing you even harder against the door. Your grocery bags trembled in your hands. "Don't make me repeat myself."

        "Crystal clear," you managed to gasp, eyes fluttering when he rolled his fingers across your entrance in a rapid movement, close to making your legs buckle from underneath you. "I understand."

       "Good girl," he praised, his near permanent smirk prominent against the skin of your neck.

    He removed his hand from your panties with the painstaking slowness of a snail, one finger at a time, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic band at your hip. Before you could even comprehend what he was about to do, he had already pulled them down to your knees, gravity doing the rest and dropping them to your ankles.

     When you froze at the feeling of the breeze against your hot, exposed skin, he leaned close once again, dancing his fingers under your sweater and touching the skin underneath the waistband of your skirt. "Step out of them… unless you want your neighbors to come outside and see you here, wet, naked, and trembling for me as I refuse to let you come."

        You stepped out of the soiled underwear as gingerly as possible, avoiding ripping or stepping on them. You heard him give a pleased little hum into your hair before giving a rough twist to the doorknob, letting it fly open. You almost stumbled, but caught yourself when Sephiroth took a fistful of your sweater and jerked you back to him just as the door snicked shut and locked.

        Any saliva that you had in your mouth evaporated when he wedged a knee between your legs, pressing up into the hot heat of your core. Just as you were allowing your eyes to shut and your hips to grind down on his thigh as much as you were able without the support of a wall or bed, he seized your face between his hands and dragged you in for a brutal, yet satisfying kiss. He traced the seam of your lips with his tongue, delving inside for just a taste, teeth pulling your bottom lip deliciously.

        "Sephiroth," you breathed when he pulled away, your lips swollen and abused. His green-blue eyes glittered dangerously in the dark, flicking over the flush in your cheeks, the part of your mouth, and the way your hips bucked against his thigh, desperate for friction. "Please…"

       "Mm." He kissed you again, nudging your chin up with his fingers, taking advantage of the way you gasped for air. When he pulled away yet again, he smirked anew, wiping the little bit of drool that had escaped your mouth. "Put away your things. You'll regret leaving them out."

        You knew an order, however softly it was delivered, when you heard it. He removed his leg from between your thighs when you picked your groceries back up, walking over to the fridge on wobbly legs.

        Just before you were about to kneel down and put your vegetables in the bottom drawers, he said,"No. Stand and bend over."

        Cautiously you locked your knees and began pulling the bell peppers out one by one, waiting to hear the sound of his disapproval. It never came.

      "Just like that," he breathed, walking closer behind you, just shy of actually pressing against you. He flipped your skirt over your back to expose your pink insides to him, wet and dangerously close to dripping on the floor. "Perfect."

        You continued putting away your food, one item at a time, feeling the burn of your calves the longer you stood. As you put away the meat, the last thing in your bag, you felt him trace an ungloved finger over your entrance, then teasingly shove the bend of his knuckle into you, curling the pad of his finger against your walls.

        "Look at how wet you are for me," he purred, watching your face from between your legs. A moan escaped you and you tried desperately to lift up on your toes and shove his finger just that little bit deeper, but you were pleasantly scolded by a gentle slap on your ass. "No, I don't think so, pet. Do I need to remind you what happens when you disobey me?"

       "No," you breathed, shoving the last package into the fridge and slamming the drawer shut. He added another finger, curling this one as well, scraping against your walls. You let out a small whine. "God, no."

        "The only god here is me," he objected, pulling his fingers out of you. You nearly choked at the loss, and then he was pulling you up by your shoulders, slamming the fridge door shut. "Such a good girl, obeying my commands. You deserve a reward."

       "Do I?" You breathed, breath hitching as he captured your lips in a wet kiss.

       "Most certainly." Sephiroth's pupils were blown wide when he leaned back, then separated you entirely. "I'll let you choose this time, I think."

       "Choose what?" You asked, eyebrow quirking up slightly. You jolted when you realized he was undoing his pauldrons and coat already.

       "Where I fuck you," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, eyeing you like a cat would a piece of meat. He was already half naked and working on his pants. "If you get to the stairs, I'll fuck you on the stairs. If you make it even halfway to the couch, I'll fuck you on the floor, so I suggest you start looking."

        Panicked, you darted from the kitchen and made your way to your office, the closest place you could reach without falling prey to those super fast SOLDIER reflexes of his. The excitement, the wonder made you become even wetter, a lone droplet sliding down your thigh as you shoved your paperwork to the floor.

        By the time you were turning towards the door, sitting down in the middle of your desk, Sephiroth was already nude, leaning against the frame as he watched you struggle to get comfortable.

       He approached you, muscles rippling with movement. He reached for your sweater and pulled it off of you in one swift motion, your bare breasts bouncing at the suddenness, nipples hardening for his attention.

       "No bra?" Sephiroth teased, taking both globes of tender flesh into his palms, kneading them with his fingers. "How daring of you."

       He made quick work of the belt holding your skirt together, shimmying it down your legs and tossing it to another room. He pressed you flat on your back. He ran his hands up your calves and down your thighs, fingers so close you could taste it.

       "Be a good girl and spread your legs," he coaxed, watching your breasts rise and fall with every shallow breath you took. You parted your legs for him with a whimper, exposing your swollen, red and dripping lips. When he touched his fingers to you it felt like you were on fire, your back arching high off the desk. "Such a good pet for me. I bet you taste divine. Do you want my mouth on you? Drinking every last drop from until you're screaming my name, begging me to take you?"

        "Yes!" You pleaded, forcing your hips up against his fingers. "Please!"

        Without warning, his mouth was upon you, sealed close to the wanton flesh and sucking hard. He was brutal, just how you wanted him, shoving his tongue so deeply within you that you were seeing stars. He let you buck into his face, keeping one hand firm on your hip to remind you who was in charge, and right as you were hitting that peak, felt that pressure in your abdomen, he was gone, his tongue replaced by something larger, hard and more filling.

       Sephiroth entered you in one smooth thrust, ramming hard against your hips, bowed over you like a  bowstring. He buried himself inside you to the hilt, your slick and his precum taking him deeper and deeper, until finally you felt his hips slot right into yours.

        You kissed him, then, tangling your fingers in his hair. His hips bucked shallowly, tongue swiping over your lips, and then he was pulling out, only to ram back in harder than before, setting a pace that you knew would leave you nearly bedridden for a few days. You let out a scream when he hit that spot just right at just the right angle, that scream stuttering into a choked moan when he bit down on your shoulder. He never broke skin, but continued his monstrous pace, running his tongue over the marks he had made.

       You were rapidly reaching your peak, unable to avoid him hitting your g-spot every single time. Rife with so much pleasure, you tried to move your hips at an angle, tried to keep him from hitting that spot so you could ride your orgasm, but he refused, nearly moving the desk with his next thrust. The closer he got, the harder he pounded into you, gripping the wood above your head to keep himself steady, his other hand holding on so tightly to your hair that it burned.

        With a final grunted moan, he released inside you, trying desperately to finish off with three or four more sloppy thrusts. You squeezed his hips between your legs, gasping as you were thrown headlong into another earth shattering orgasm, throwing your head back into the desk, back as high as a cat's back.

       As you rode your high with dazed eyes, Sephiroth pulled out of you and gathered you up into his arms. You nuzzled into his throat, sighing contentedly, legs and abdomen still spasming pleasantly.

        "You did well, [Name]," Sephiroth hummed, pressing a kiss into your sweat soaked hair.

       You laughed lightly, hoarse, and stroked the side of his neck with the tips of your fingers. "I lasted more than three minutes this time. I deserve a reward for that."

        "What did you have in mind?" He inquired, pulling back your bed's blankets and lowering you between them. He waited for your answer, green-blue eyes twinkling patiently.

        You made a thoughtful noise and reached up, taking his face between shaky fingers and drawing him into a kiss.

        "There," you said, giggling when he laid down beside you and began pressing tender kisses to the expanse of your neck. "That's my reward."

#sephiroth x reader #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii remake #smut #request

[wickedmilo]

THE SHARPEST LIVES | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Jericho Hill Cemetery TIMING: 3:49 AM SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli are reminded of the fact that you can never let your guard down in White Crest WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, head trauma tw, brief eating disorder mention

Metzli didn’t know how it happened, but they were completely and unequivocally drunk. Milo had met up with them for drinks, one turned into two, and two turned into six, and then six turned into, well, they honestly didn’t know. It was all a blur, and now the cold air was hitting their face as the two vampires giggled and stumbled about the streets. The idiots had a drink in each hand and couldn’t stop laughing at nothing.  

“Milo! Milo!” Metzli slurred, pointing and using his shoulder as a crutch for their staggering legs. “What if we went into that cemetery?!” They wheezed and fell over onto the ground, laughing uncontrollably. “Can you imagine?” They joked and managed to keep their drinks from spilling. Gulping one down, they threw the cup to the side, not caring if they littered.  

Milo was struggling to walk in a straight line, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t more than familiar with the sensation of tripping over his feet. He couldn’t remember leaving the club, he could barely even remember meeting Metzli for drinks, but the unnaturally cold air of White Crest was undeniably refreshing. The strange winter was lasting far longer than he anticipated, and he knew he should find it unnerving at the very least. But his worry was spent, and he would much rather focus on the way the chill felt against his skin, the way his lips burned, and his fingertips ached with the exposure. It was a reminder of the fact that he was alive. He was still here despite everything, and there was joy to be found in that. As if to prove his point, his company spoke, choking on their words as they laughed at their own suggestion. It took him a few seconds to truly register the irony, why two vampires getting drunk in a graveyard was even remotely amusing, but the moment he laid eyes on the signpost it hit him, and he failed to hold back his own laughter. 

Jericho Hill. He had never been the type to care about disrespecting the dead, but now more than ever he felt as though he had a right to claim the space as his own. He was dead too, wasn’t he? Everybody buried in the ground had died in some way. Well, so had he. The only difference being he had to face the trauma of his death on a near daily basis. His step faltering as Metzli continued to grip at his shoulder, he finished what was left of his own drink before throwing his cup down to meet theirs. “Wait-” He grinned at them as they almost dragged him to the floor. “Wait, Metzli-” He caught his breath, reaching out to clumsily pull them back to their feet. “We have to do it, right?” He asked, eyes shining with inebriated excitement. “I mean, duh- we have to do it.” 

“Yes, we have to do it! And we have to play this!” Metzli pulled out their phone to peruse through their songs until they found the perfect song. Since they were drunk as all get out, what should’ve taken mere seconds took two whole minutes of scrolling up and down. “I found it!” Dead! by My Chemical Romance began to play loudly from the speakers of their phone and they gulped on their last beverage, spilling most of it on themselves. Sober Metzli would care about the stains and overall smell of alcohol on their clothes, but Drunk Metzli could care less. They deserved to let loose. They deserved to forget everything and not have to deal with pesky people, or pesky emotions. 

With this freedom from problems, they blundered forward, towards the funniest place they could find at this time of night. There was nothing inherently funny about this idea, only the two vampires understood. “…and if you get to heaven…!” Metzli belted out the lyrics to the song as they pulled Milo with them. Ghosts could be seen all about the cemetery, some groaning in annoyance, others ignoring them completely. “Fuck you!” They yelled, laughing and moving on quickly to balance on a tombstone. “Shit, look at me. I’m not even drunk at all!” Which was wrong, and they promptly fell backwards onto their back.  

Milo waited patiently for Metzli to find the song they were looking for, his expression moving from one of polite interest to instantaneous recognition. My Chemical Romance had more than a few songs he enjoyed, but he hadn’t listened to ‘Dead’ in what felt like forever. The sound was tinny, and nowhere near as loud as he would have liked, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. Laughing as his friend spilled their final drink on their shirt, he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. Maybe they already knew. Instead he fished in the pocket of his hoodie for a can he had been saving, cracking it open, the scent of beer washing over him. It didn’t take them very long to reach the graveyard, following the sign posts, veering further and further from the lights of the town, and taking a long drink, he watched as Metzli hurried ahead of him, reaching the gates before he could ever hope to without falling. “Wait for me!” He called, walking a little faster despite knowing it would increase his chances of finding himself on the floor. “What?” He shot his friend a confused look as he approached the clearing, only realising they weren’t telling him to fuck off when he saw the handful of ghosts wandering the perimeter. Huh, maybe respecting the dead was going to take on a whole new, and far too literal meaning.  

Catching himself as the gate swung shut behind him with more force than he was expecting, he made eye contact with a few of the cemetery’s residents before turning his attention back to Metzli. “Definitely not true.” He countered, searching the graves for a perch of his own. Settling on a large tomb towards the centre he hurried to scramble on top of it, raising his can the moment he was standing steady. “Hey, we died too, okay?” He shouted, his voice reverberating through the trees. “And it was really fucking shit, so cut us some slack. We deserve to have some fun!” A few ghosts seemed to appreciate him addressing them, melting easily into the shadows to give him some space. Others continued to glare, or stare at him with a disapproving look he usually only saw worn by his parents. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by the sound of Metzli slipping from where they were balanced. A grin still on his face, he could hear them moving, blocked from view by their chosen grave. “You okay?” He teased. “You should be more careful, y’know. What if you got hurt?”  

The gate shut with a loud and metallic clonk! when Milo finally made his way into the cemetery. Metzli was impatient, and motivated by the chaotic music emanating from their back pocket. “You’re too slow! Use those vampire legs!” They beckoned, voice full of teasing and friendliness. Milo ended up being a lot of fun to be around, so much so that they knew this wouldn’t be the last time they hung out. While they could have deep conversations, Milo knew when enough was enough. He knew how to have real fun, real fun that distracts and pushes away the tidal wave of troubles that only seemed to keep accumulating. 

Teasing right back, Metzli flipped the bird at Milo and said, “It’ll take a lot more than a little fall to take me out. You wanna try and see what’ll work?” They teased, throwing a clump of grass at Milo’s face. A tinge of hope that he might even try filled their chest, but it quickly faltered, knowing damn well he wouldn’t. Channeling their energy into something else, they regarded the frustrated spirits, “Listen. We’re here one night. You’ll get it back! Just let us have fun. We’re just as miserable as you; we need the break!” Most of the words were a little hard to understand due to the slurring, but they didn’t care. “And you, get down, mister! You’re gonna hurt yourself, young man!” They crawled towards the stone and just toppled over laughing. 

“I’d still be clumsy,” Milo pointed out. “Just faster, which definitely means falling over. This is like some ultimate vampire reflexes versus alcohol bullshit.” Grinning easily to himself as he struggled to balance on top of the tomb despite both feet being planted firmly on the solid granite, he couldn’t help but figure the alcohol was winning out. “No, I don’t want to try-” He added, absentmindedly glancing back over to where Metzli was sprawled. He could see them busy with something, and it didn’t take him long to find out what. He sidestepped, only just managing to dodge the grass and mud that came flying towards him. Holding up his middle finger in response, he took a long drink from his can. The sooner he was done holding it, the sooner he could spark up a cigarette, and his body was calling out for nicotine. When he was finally finished, he searched the darkness again for his friend. He had a suspicion they were serious about him trying to kill them, and it was an unnerving reminder of the fact that they had given up their soul. Even though he had no desire to let that part of himself go, he couldn’t help being curious about how it felt. How much of a person did it change?  

His eyes shining as he was pulled out of his thoughts by Metzli’s voice, he listened to them address the lingering ghosts. Some of them still glared disapprovingly, but no doubt it was becoming clear they wouldn’t be able to drive away two vampires with stares alone. “Isn’t misery supposed to love company?” He asked, laughing at his own joke. Maybe it was unfair to laugh about the dead being unhappy with their situation. But he was unhappy with his own situation, and he was here to have a good time. If anything, the ghosts could learn a thing or two about having fun. Nobody was forcing them to avoid the party. “No, ‘m fine!” He said, petulantly kicking a small stone towards Metzli. “You’re not the boss of me, and I like it up here.” Glancing down at the stone beneath him, he regretted not trying to read the inscription on the side of it. “I wonder who this guy is. I mean- whoever it is makes for a kick ass viewing platform.” Laughing as he shuffled to the edge, looking down to where Metzli was crawling closer and closer, he waited until the most opportune moment to tip his can and spill beer directly over them. “Shit, I’m sorry- I didn’t see you.” His tone, and expression made it incredibly clear just how untrue that statement was. 

The world continued to spin and blur, like a nonstop roller coaster. Only, Metzli wouldn’t regurgitate any of the contents in their stomach, they’d simply keep up their antics with optimal visual and physical contingencies. “Yeah! Let miserable assholes keep you company!” Sobriety was nowhere in sight as their slurred words traveled through the cemetery. Laying on the ground was nice. It provided safety from faking and a cool was to their back. That safety was interrupted though, when Milo spilled beer all over them. “Hey! Asshole!” But they didn’t bother getting up. Just laying there, they flipped Milo off and rolled their eyes.  

“You’re annoying. I never should’ve saved your ass. Wouldn’t have to deal with this shit!” The music in the background went from Dead! to This is How I Disappear. While Metzli could always enjoy classical music, there was always a place for punk rock in their heart. Their cold, dead heart. The heart that could never give love or care. Nor could it receive it. At least not by being worthy of it.  

A shuddered breath could not be suppressed, and was made obvious by the visible air. Metzli frowned petulantly at their display of internal frustration. Now wasn’t the time for soul nonsense. Now was the time for, “Holy shit, more alcohol!” They said, pulled a flask from their shirt pocket. “Totally forgot I brought backup! Hey do you wa…” Words trailed off into oblivion as they spotted a dark figure hiding in the shadows.  

Listening to how Metzli slurred their words, Milo knew he wasn’t far behind them in terms of inebriation. Lucky for him his week long binge with Alex had managed to raise his tolerance, either that or his friend had been sneaking shots when he wasn’t looking. Either was possible, if he was being entirely honest. Still looking down at them he laughed when they raised their middle finger in response to the beer, it seemed the gesture was their most reliable way of communicating with each other. “You didn’t save me.” He countered. “You threw yourself at a slayer, I would have been fine if you didn’t decide to drag me into your mess.” Hearing the track in the background change, he wasn’t surprised to realise Metzli had an entire album saved to their phone. They looked like the My Chemical Romance type. He opened his mouth to say so but was interrupted by an uneven sigh. He knew without his new senses he wouldn’t have heard it, he knew he should probably pretend he hadn’t heard it. But the sound that managed to escape his friend was so genuinely forlorn, ignoring it didn’t feel like an option. “Hey-” He started, his voice soft, and comforting. But he couldn’t finish his sentence. As quickly as Metzli’s frown had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a mischievous grin, and a flask drawn from inside their shirt pocket.  

He reached out, ready to swipe it from their hands, but their gaze caught on something behind him. Assuming it was one of the ghosts, he turned to look too, but was only able to make out a vague shadow. Something ominous, lurking just beyond the line of the trees. The ghosts were gone, silent enough for him to hear a very human heartbeat if he focused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he understood what was happening a moment too late. There was a sharp sound of something being released, followed by a rush of air. He didn’t have time to react, and the projectile shot past him, clipping his arm as he threw himself to the ground. He landed next to Metzli, eyes wide, glasses crooked where they had nearly fallen from the end of his nose. The pain in his arm wasn’t severe, but he was drunk, and he knew his pain tolerance was high because of that. Wincing, he forced himself to drop his can so that he could reach up and press a hand against the injury. The smell of beer began to fill the air as it bubbled, spilling out onto the grass beside him. Exhaling a breath, the cut wasn’t deep, and it definitely wasn’t lethal, but when he pulled his hand away his palm was black, and slick with blood. Scrambling to push his back up against the tombstone, his mind struggled to form a coherent plan. Even if Metzli wanted to take on whoever was hiding in the woods, they were in no fit state to try. “Shit-” He hissed. “Shit- what do we do?” 

Metzli jumped at the dull thud Milo’s body made when he made impact onto the dirt floor next to them. “What the—” Thick, black blood pooled through his fingers as he applied pressure to his newfound wound. Mouth agape, ready to say something more, a wheezing laugh spilled forward and they crawled to the tombstone for cover. When they poked their head out above it, an arrow whizzed past their head, barely missing them. “Ha-ha! You missed!” A drunk and taunting finger pointed at the hidden hunter, and another arrow shot out, directly to their face. 

Everything went black as Metzli closed their eyes and shot their hand up. By some miracle, a thing they didn’t even believe in, they had caught the arrow. More laughter ensued as they swiftly got back to the ground to show Milo. “Hey! Hey! Milo, look at this! I fucking caught it!” Pure, unfiltered shock littered their face as a smile curled onto their lips. They felt like a god, like they could do anything. And no slayer could possibly beat them, even in their inebriated state.

Milo stared at Metzli in disbelief as they began to laugh. But within seconds he was overcome by the urge himself. There were so many things to laugh at. He was a vampire, hanging out in a cemetery with another vampire. His life was beyond a joke at this point. Things had become so weird that for a second he had forgotten just how weird they really were. It was crazy to think he used to be human. For twenty two years this world had been make believe, something in tv shows, and bad YA novels. Now he was living it, apparently to a My Chemical Romance soundtrack. It crept up on him, building in his chest, then his throat, before finally escaping his mouth. A peal of laughter, genuine, and unfiltered, echoed across the empty grounds. Too distracted by his own situation to register his friend standing up, it was only as Metzli joined him again that he realised what he had missed. “You- what?” He only laughed harder at the revelation, feeling a little delirious. “You fucking liar, there’s no way-” Reaching to take the arrow out of their hands, he bent the wood, testing its strength because he could. It was pretty regular, as far as he could tell. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. Tapping Metzli on the head with the point, he carelessly threw it to the ground. “Why us?” He asked, tears running down his cheeks as he attempted to reign himself in. “Do you think we’re cursed?”  

“Sir, I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar!” Metzli said through laughter and wheezing coughs. The situation at hand was crazy, too crazy for anyone to believe if they got the chance to tell anyone about it. “Why us? Because we’re having fun and hunters hate that we have fun!” Getting up, they took the arrow with them and began to trek onward to the hunter. Before they could make it even three steps though, an arrow shot right into their shoulder. An exclamation of pain reverberated from their chest as they fell back, rolling to their feet to stand up again.  

Anger pulsed through their drunken mind. Alcohol reinforced that anger, manifesting it into a loud growl from Metzli. “Is that all you got?! Fucking coward! Shooting from all the way over there!” They were being reckless, too motivated by their state of inebriation. An arrow still protruded from their shoulder, going all the way through.It took mere moments, but the situation went from humorous, to extremely dangerous without Metzli even noticing. Having a care about their well-being would’ve helped, but there was none to be found. It was as lost as their soul.  

“Oof!” Taunting the hunter worked. Metzli was tackled, extremely hard onto the ground, pushing the arrow back into them. Pain would’ve been made more prominent had it not been for the shelf’s worth of alcohol in their system. 

Raising his eyebrows, something about the statement struck Milo as odd. When he finally realised what it was he felt a little ridiculous. Not too ridiculous to be honest though. “Y’know… I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘sir’ before.” He admitted, giggling at the unusual admission. Honestly, he had never earned the courtesy. Anybody who didn’t know his name and wanted to get his attention usually resorted to insults before titles. There was no need to be polite when you were throwing somebody out of a bar, or berating them for unashamedly doing drugs in the bathroom. “I like it.” Scrubbing his hand against the grass, attempting to wipe away some of his blood, he wrinkled his nose as dirt and beer got dirt caught under his fingernails. Why was nothing ever as easy as it looked in the movies? “I think a lot of people hate fun,” he pointed out, thinking of how his parents liked to try and control his substance abuse, of the way people looked down on him, or tried to tell him they were concerned because he enjoyed certain vices more than others. “But yeah, maybe hunters more than most…” Shifting as Metzli stood again, he was ready for them to tease the Hunter hiding in the woods. If they did so from where they were standing then it wouldn’t be difficult for them to drop back down to safety. But they stepped out from behind their barricade, making themself incredibly vulnerable. “Metzli- wait-” He hissed, but it was too late. He hurried to get to his knees, peering over the stone so that he could watch the chaos unfold.  

Metzli’s voice rang out, loud and clear. He wasn’t sure actively encouraging the person trying to kill them was a very good idea, but before he could tell them they seemed to stumble. In the blink of an eye an arrow was protruding from their shoulder and he stared, frozen in horror. “Stop!” He shouted, though he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Metzli, or the hunter. He only knew this was no longer funny. As quickly as the humour had come, it had dissolved, melting away to be replaced by a familiar sense of fear. Jeez, it really was never ending. “No- wait- shit-” He shouted again, inching closer as Metzli was tackled to the ground. It went against all of his instincts to follow his friend’s footsteps, to make himself vulnerable, but he didn’t know what else he could do aside from watch them suffer. A few more seconds passed, and Metzli only succeeded in getting pushed against the ground with more force, so he steeled himself, forcing his mind to sober up before running at the hunter, tackling them in the same way they had tackled Metzli. He hit them full force, throwing them off of his friend, and rolled with them, unable to keep track of who was where, and whether he was in danger. He couldn’t see any obvious weapons, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any on the hunter’s person. 

The scuffle was a blur, made worse by the drunken state Metzli was in. Through it all, they laughed and wheezed. “Is that all you got? You’re the worst hunter I’ve ever—” They watched in awe as Milo fought against both his instincts and the hunter, who cried out in pain. He was obviously new, still untrained in various ways. Thus, the reason why the taunting worked. He needed to stop using long range attacks, and prove himself. This was his own undoing and Metzli pointed at him, and laughed. “Oh man, you really suck at this!” 

Reaching towards the struggle, they pulled the hunter off of Milo. After a swift click! Metzli was thrown back by yet another arrow in their stomach, dropping the hunter in the process. “Goddammit!” Pain was still dulled out, but they were frustrated nonetheless. “I’m literally two inches away. The least you can do is actually make me dust. Jesus!” They said, getting up and kicking the hunter in the head. He was now knocked out cold. Problem officially solved.  

“All right, you wanna get more drinks?” Still not minding the second arrow in them, they asked Milo, and continued walking in a drunken stupor.  

Milo felt the weight lift from his body, and sat up as best he could, just in time to watch the hunter shoot another arrow at Metzli. This one hit them in the stomach, but they still didn’t seem bothered by the pain, or the knowledge of what was happening. He opened his mouth, taking a breath ready to speak, but he couldn’t find his words. What was there to say? Nothing was going to stop this, nothing was going to change the mind of Metzli or the person still pointing a weapon at them. Wincing as his friend continued to insult the hunter, he couldn’t help but realise if they had been more adept then both of them would probably be dead by now. Dead dead. Really they should be thanking them for not being skilled enough to take out two incredibly inebriated vampires. Flinching as a sudden crack rang out, he saw Metzli kick the hunter, and the action played again inside his head, slow motion allowing him to see just how brutal the move had been. A gasp escaping him, he crawled over to where they were sprawled on the grass, unconscious, and no longer a threat.  

“What did you do?” He demanded, eyes wide as he took in the situation. Metzli standing, two arrows protruding from their torso, and the hunter now potentially concussed, vulnerable, and alone on their back. He still didn’t feel sober, but his mind was working to process information like he was. He gently pried open one of the hunter’s eyelids, checking their pupil for any sign of trauma. Then tilted his head towards them, taking note of their steady breathing, and the strong heartbeat within their chest. “More drinks?” He echoed, looking back up at Metzli. The offer was tempting. Anything to forget what had just happened, the casual horrors he now seemed destined to witness on a near daily basis. Was he ever going to get used to this? The violence of it all? “I-” Glancing back down at the unconscious form, he was confident they were about to wake up. Any longer than a few minutes could mean brain damage, but their vitals were steady, and their pupils were regular. Chances were, the shock more than anything had caused them to black out, which meant they didn’t have long to make their escape. “Fuck it.” He muttered, getting clumsily to his feet. “Let’s get out of here, I think they’re about to come to…” He admitted, moving away from the hunter towards the entrance of the cemetery. “And then we can deal with this,” he added, gesturing vaguely to the arrows embedded in his company. He still didn’t understand how Metzli could be so provocative, but he didn’t want to understand. Whatever they were dealing with was their issue. So long as he could keep them alive, he had done his part. “You’re going to need blood.”

Milo looked like a professional moving about the hunter’s body, checking on him. “You a doctor or something? Who cares about this idiot anyway? If he’s dead, he’s dead. Lucky he would be in a cemetery,” Metzli chuckled dryly, pulling the arrows out of their body with audible grunts of discomfort. Part of them wished the arrows had actually pierced their heart, but they weren’t so lucky. “He definitely wouldn’t think twice to check on us. As long as we’re dust, he’s happy. So fuck him.” The arrows clattered to the ground and they scowled at Milo for trying to baby them.  

“I know what my body needs,” they barked back, following Milo to the exit with a huff. Metzli was offended, more than they should have been, but alcohol had a way of doing that. On the way out, they picked up their phone which had been playing House of Wolves. They shut it off and pocketed the phone. “I’m going home. Maybe I’ll get a snack from my friend. I’m done.”  

Metzli walked past Milo in a fast walk, sulking and battered. Not looking at him, they said, “Let me know if you wanna hang out again I guess. Try not to be too sad without my presence, depresso.” Everything about their appearance was so messy and forlorn, only snapping out of it when the gate closed with a metallic clang! for the second time tonight. “Later, kid.” 

“My parents are doctors.” Milo admitted, remembering a time where he used to proudly announce he was going to be a doctor one day too. Just like mommy and daddy. How embarrassing. Holding his tongue before he could insist he cared about the person lying on the floor, he wasn’t sure how true that statement was. Hunter or otherwise, they had chosen to confront two vampires. Two vampires who weren’t hurting anybody, who just wanted a short break from the world. They didn’t deserve to die, he knew that much. But Metzli was right, he wouldn’t be offered the same courtesy in return. “We can’t just- just kill people,” he countered, almost disturbed by how casual his friend sounded. He wanted to believe they didn’t mean it, but of course they did. “If we do then we’re as bad as they all think we are…” Continuing in his journey towards the boundaries of the cemetery, he only stopped as he heard the arrows hit the ground. One soft clatter, followed by another. He wanted to tell Metzli they shouldn’t have taken them out, that was First Aid 101. But they couldn’t exactly wander through town with them, so he stayed quiet.  

A frown creasing his brow at the shift in tone, he wondered briefly whether other people felt this annoyed by his mood swings. “Clearly you don’t because the last time we met you were starving yourself.” He bit out, unable to help himself. “Fine, go drink your friend’s blood while you’re wasted, and hurt. Because that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.” Running a hand through his hair, he straightened his glasses, pressing his fingertips against his injured arm. He could still feel the blood soaking through the material of his hoodie. “Are you actually leaving?” He demanded, watching as Metzli let the gate swing shut behind them. “Fine, whatever.” He called after them. “I don’t give a shit.” 

“Fuck off,” Metzli growled back, annoyed by the kid’s unnecessary sass. “We are as bad as people think we are. But you know what, so are humans. He was just going to kill us.” They mocked back, throwing the words he had just used against him. The hunter was going to kill them without a second thought, so they saw no need to think about his life. He probably didn’t choose this life, but he also didn’t need to take on more than he could chew. Idiot.  

“Yeah, I’m leaving. I don’t need you to give a shit.” Metzli flipped him off as they walked away, disappearing into the cold night.  

Milo stared at Metzli, watching them as they left the cemetery feeling far too many emotions at once. Fear, worry, exhaustion, relief… He knew they had a point, he just wasn’t ready to accept that. He couldn’t bring himself to accept that. It scared him knowing he was changing. He had grown used to the physical changes, the ways his new life needed to revolve around blood, around nightfall, around a constant feeling of thirst. But seeing so many vampires who were numb to violence felt different. Even in his own circuits, the ones where people got beaten up for the sake of a hit, or robbed at knifepoint because they owed a dealer money, he had never grown used to it, merely avoided it to the best of his ability. The blood still running down his arm was testament to the fact that he couldn’t avoid this violence. It was going to chase him wherever he went simply because some asshole decided to drain him of his blood. Flipping Metzli off in return as they disappeared from view, the gesture no longer felt affectionate, or carefree. Suddenly alone with the sound of quiet breathing, he knew he didn’t have much time. The hunter was due to regain consciousness, and he needed to be far, far away before that happened. Putting more pressure against his arm, he took a deep breath to steady himself, running over the list of friends he knew he could turn to for help. And then he set off, putting the cemetery, and the events of the evening behind him. 

#c:metzli #milo and metzli #head trauma tw #eating disorder tw #alcohol tw

[jessipalooza]

Ghost Town

The city of Gilneas was a ghost town, more so since the destruction of Undercity. The large gates still stood, but they stooped and hunched like an old man, moss tangling down as a beard. Pockets of missing stone and piles of rubble made passing by those gates relatively easy, and once a path was found - overgrown as they all were - it led to the rise of a hill. Beyond that hill, was a tangle of twisted streets of cobblestone, dilapidated buildings of 3 or so stories, a tremendous church - all the makings of a city that once stood proud. 

Not any longer.

Through the maze-like streets, eerie breezes swept dried leaves and yellows scraps of paper. Shutters that had been left open or fallen open and had not yet rotted off banged gently against the sides of the buildings as though cheering the parade of crinkling debris. Rats scurried down the alley ways, looking for anything and everything they might be able to pick clean and carry back to their nests. 

All of these sounds blended together as a death rattle of the city itself. It was a sad reminder of what had been before: lively chatter between neighbors and shopkeepers, groans of cart wheels rolling by, clopping of horse hooves, and the drumming of thousands and thousands of footsteps.

Now there were no footsteps, but that did not mean there were no people. 

Wrapped in leathers of deep blue, brown, and brass, a lithe figure of a woman traversed the shadowed alleyways. Each step was so silent that even the gentle scratching of rats was enough to drown it out. Through the maze, she went without so much as a breath escaping the cloth mask that covered her from the nose down. She was as much a ghost - perhaps better called a spectre - as the rest of the city. Every so often, she stopped, looked up and down the main streets, and listened. A few seconds passed and she continued.

Further through the city she went until her fel-tainted eyes snapped onto the third floor of a particular building. There was nothing tremendous that caused the building to stand out from the others. The outside wood was distressed, the glass windows shattered, the door broken in. Spider webs clung to the crooked awning and with each leaf-led breeze, the building wheezed and creaked. 

And as the clouds shifted, so did a shadow in the top left window.

Three beats of a heart and the woman of shadows pressed forward. She crossed the uneven cobblestone street and looked to the rotted door, crashed to the side. A scrap of paper remained attached to the door with a rusted nail, and below that were three separate marks: vicious cuts, driven deep into the wood with splinters in their wake. Worgen.

But the woman did not care about such a thing. Not truly. Her attention passed over the scars of curses past and turned to the floor. Wooden floors, split furniture with molded wood, stray leaves, rat droppings, and dusty rugs.

And a trail of footprints. 

Within each footprint, the woman stepped to leave her own presence unknown. The gate was wide, the boots large. It was a man, perhaps a foot taller than her. But she knew that much. She knew it was a human man. She knew his name was Lindon Deltane. She knew he was in his late fifties. She knew he was a thief and an attempted murderer.

Up the stairs she crawled, silent and steady. She had done this perhaps a hundred times before. Perhaps more. She had been alive longer than a century and most of those years were soaked in blood - some deserving, some not. This time, it was not justice that brought her to this abandoned house, not her own at least. The man had wronged someone and she was here to right that misstep as a price for her own goal. She wanted information. In exchange, there would be blood. She was fine with that. It was a fair trade.

The top stair groaned; the woman stopped. She waited with a deep and silent breath. Outside, the breeze whistled through the alleys and rattled the shutters. Inside, the building was still. Framed portraits stared down at her, some tattered and others clawed. The men and women judged her as an intruder, as an assassin. She did not care. Without so much as a glance to the ghosts of the Gilneans past, she pressed onward.

Around the corner. Down the hall. The door at the end was opened a crack and in the low light of the moon-lit room, there was a shimmer near the ground. A thread. No. A trap. An easy trap, at least. Slow and easy, she opened the door and stepped high over the thread to cross the threshold of what used to be a master bedroom above a little shop. 

The room smelled of mildew and tobacco. A chandelier had fallen and been dragged to one corner, leaving behind scratches in the wood floor. Half of the furniture was covered in grey, moth-eaten sheets as though the owners expected to return, rather than be eaten alive or cursed. A closet door lay ajar, but no clothing was left. There were sheets on the four-poster bed, however, and on top of them was Lindon Deltane.

The thief slumbered with one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach, clutching a knife. A large rifle lay against the side table, on top of which was a plate of half-eaten rations that included cheese, bread, and salted meat. On the floor were two bottles of whiskey and a jug of water. No doubt he had been moving from building to building, waiting out his time in Gilneas before moving on. One did not steal from a thousands-year old elf that specializes in information, much less attempt to kill one of his descendants - not without biding time at a few different locations to throw off the scent. 

Unfortunately for Lindon Deltane, he did not do a good enough job, and the stink of his misdeeds clung to him too strongly to shake. 

The woman crept towards the bed and pulled from her side the dagger that was her constant companion. It would be easy. A quick slice across the neck, a search for the artifact, and then she would be on her way. There was no need to even hesitate. There was no guilt to be had, no second thoughts. She brought the blade down to the man’s neck.

And at that very moment, Lindon Deltane’s eyes opened. 

It happened so quickly. He brought up his knife and she met it with her dagger, sacrificing his neck to save her own. The two short blades clashed together with a shriek of steel and the woman was able to glimpse the strength of the man and know that it was far more than her own. So when he pulled back his free hand for a punch, she tugged herself back. He caught her mask and ripped it free, taking the hood with it. 

A long braid of bright orange hair tumbled out and Esme Sunshard wasted no time with witty remarks. She shifted back a step and flung her dagger as soon as she saw Lindon Deltane reach for that rifle. The blade sank into his hand and into the wooden butt of the weapon. To the man’s credit, he did not so much as grunt and still brought the weapon up, dropping his knife in favor of the trigger. 

Esme barely had enough time to duck before the rifle shot with a thunderous blast. What was left of the window was blown off the hinges, glass showering onto the abandoned street below. The rifle was cocked, a second shot at the ready, but Esme was too quick. The second shot missed, leaving a hole in the rotted floor where she had been, and she was grabbing one of the decorate wood columns of the bed. Using momentum, she swung herself around and drove her feet into the side of the man’s head.

The two of them tumbled, but Esme’s roll was controlled and she popped up to one knee with ease, her sword drawn. 

Lindon Deltane was less graceful, but surprisingly fast for his size and age - for a human. Even with graying brown hair and matching gray streaks in his beard, he moved like he was in the prime of his life. Still, he was no match for Esme’s speed. 

Before Esme could get too confident, she felt the heat. It was a familiar heat; it radiated off of Lindon Deltane and carried with it the scent of burning wood and the chemical tang of magic.

“Shit,” she muttered - right before scrambling to the side. 

As she moved, she felt the flames lick at her legs and smelled singed hair. It was too close for comfort, but she did not have time to turn to see where the flames had landed. Neither did she have time to thank Faervell for fire-proofing her leather armor. Another blast chased her to the other side of the room and back over to the bed. Flames crackled as they engulfed the brittle wood, and Esme’s only saving grace was the mildew and humidity that stopped the fire from spreading as quickly as it might have otherwise. 

She had to stop him, and stop him she did. Nearly every day she sparred with a felmancer. There was no difference to her between green fire and red fire. So there was no hesitation from her to roll over the bed, raise her sword, and swing it down to sever the outstretched hands of Lindon Deltane. 

The thief cried out in agony as his limbs tumbled to the ground with heavy thuds. Blood began to flow freely - as free as the curses that spilled from his lips, thick with the accent of Redridge. Just where Quineven had said he lived. 

“You bitch! You blood elf bitch!”

Winded from the short fight and aware of the heat closing in as the fire began to crawl up the walls, Esme stood and jabbed the point of her sword against Lindon’s throat. “I do not suppose you are going to tell me where the artifact is.”

Hatred and desperation emanated from the man’s blue eyes. Even as his stumps bled, he spat at her feet. The saliva was speckled red.

“I thought not,” Esme answered cooly. She plunged her sword through his throat, and it drew out a gag and a choke from the man. By the time she drew her sword back, he was dead in the mind. The body was another story, as it twitched - and would for another few minutes, or until the fires claimed it.

Sliding the flat of her blade across her thighs to rid it of human blood, she took in just how much of the room was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Smoke began to fill her nose and mouth, so the first thing she did was grab hold of the mask that had been torn from her to start with. Haphazardly, she threw the hood back on and tucked the mask up to her nose. It did little to help with smoke, but a little was better than nothing. 

“Where the fuck is this artifact,” she muttered to herself. In such a silent city, the crack of fire and the crumble of wood was deafening. She could barely hear herself, but it did not matter. She had to move and think fast. 

Under the bed, in the dressers. She searched for whatever an artifact could possibly look like. Quineven had described it as hand held and silver, but for all she knew, it could be in a box or a sack. 

“Or a pocket.”

Esme turned and knelt beside the body of Lindon as a final twitch ran down one leg. Without care, she stuck her hands into his pockets - vest and then pants. Her fingertips graced both a gnomish knife and a pocket watch. With an irritable sigh, she shoved him away and began to stand until the realization hit her.

Faervell had kept crystals in something that looked like a pocket watch. Black with a green gem on front. It was enchanted, and he had told her in a night’s drunken slur, “It’s perfect. Small and powerful. Nobody will get to these crystals but me. And you, my darling, if ever you want…”

Hurriedly, she jabbed her hand back into the pocket and grabbed the pocket watch. It was larger than what she was accustomed to with a rune engraved on the front. It was also silver. That was good enough for her. 

Stashing the object down the front of her leathers, she turned and hurried out of the room. As though bidding her farewell, the beam above the doorway crashed down behind her and nearly sent her tumbling forward. Coughing away the smoke, she took the stairs two at a time and spared a glance up to the ceiling as she hurried past. Fire burned through the floor, creating glowing cracks within the wood. Had it not been so dangerous and a tell-tale sign of the building collapsing, she might even stay and look at it to admire the beauty. 

Out the door, she flew and down the road she continued. Once she was a safe distance away, she turned to watch as flames clamored out the window and the building itself shuttered and crumbled away. She knew what would happen. The fire would cling to the next building and continue on until it rained or found more stone than wood. It would continue long after Esme was gone, on her way to Quineven with his request in hand. 

Gilneas should thank her. With one murder, she left the city with more life than when she came.

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@pyrar

#my writing #hoo buddy it's been a while #Esme #Quiniven #prep work for #uh #what do i call this series #Shadow to Shadow #yeah that's angsty and edgy enough

[bestillmyslashyheart]

hit the road

on Ao3

It didn’t quite set in until they hit the coast. The miles of ocean unfolding before and around them, the sand between his toes, and the crushing realization that Rosa Ortecho was alive all hit Alex at once. 

The days immediately following Rosa’s resurrection, and Max Evans’ coinciding demise, were a mess. Liz, as much as she tried, couldn’t process it all. She flip flopped between heartbroken over Max’s death, frantic with determination to bring him back like he’d brought Rosa back, overjoyed that she had her sister back, and confused to hell as to what that meant for them. As much as she’d had trouble coming to terms with Rosa’s death, the fact was that she’d had ten years of being an only child. She made it two days, two whole days of trying to be strong and trying to be her big sister’s older sister, before she locked herself in Maria’s spare room and drank herself stupid.  

For her part, Maria wasn’t doing much better. She’d arrived at the caves with Michael and seen Rosa before anyone could think to hide her. With the reality of Rosa’s resurrection came the truth about everything else. Maria was strong, she compartmentalized and made sure she was there for Liz for whatever she needed. When Liz couldn’t go home and lie to Arturo about Rosa, she offered up her spare room and went and collected everything she needed from home. She asked enough questions to get the answers she needed about Rosa and Max and the night at the UFO opening but she didn’t push and she didn’t pry. But the realization that Michael (and Max but he was dead and she couldn’t be mad at him) had known for ten years the truth of what happened to Rosa and let her life and her family be vilified because of a lie they created coupled with the reality of Rosa being alive and Liz falling to pieces meant that she spent more than her fair share of time clutching a bottle.

Isobel and Michael were a mess. Alex had never really had the time or perspective to consider the relationship between the three of them before but Max’s absence left a clear gaping hole in them. As much as Michael professed not to get along with Max, to hate him sometimes even, Alex didn’t recognize Michael without his brother. And there was no mistaking that’s what they were. Isobel and Max may have been raised as twins but the three of them were a family, a unit if it were. Take one of them away and the other two fall apart.

For the most part, Kyle was fine. He’s blurted out the truth of Rosa’s parentage in an incredibly awkward moment and freaked her out but otherwise, he was dealing.

Rosa was not.

Alex tried to give her space, considering she looked overwhelmed by literally everything every time he saw her, but he couldn’t just ignore her. She might have been Liz’s older sister but she was the missing piece of their group. She was his and Maria’s older sister, too. When he’d joined the Air Force after graduation, yes it had been mostly because of his father and his family and what happened with Michael, but it was also because Rosa was dead and her ghost haunted Roswell too much for him to stay. He wasn’t sure how Maria had handled it all of these years but Alex couldn’t. It was the third day that he stopped by Max’s house and saw it. That look. He’d seen it in her eyes his senior year as graduation neared. He’d seen it in Liz’s the last time he’d seen her before their ten year reunion. He’d seen it in the mirror every time he saw Michael Guerin.

She was going to run. 

Alex didn’t waste any time. He gave her a hug as he left and broke several traffic laws on his way home. When he pulled up outside, he didn’t bother bother taking the keys out of the ignition or even turning the car off. He’d had a bag packed since the day he moved in. It had all of the essentials and he wasted precious seconds by adding a few more changes of clothes and his leather jacket. He was back in the car and pulling away less than two minutes after he’d pulled up. Even so, Rosa was gone when he got back to Max’s house. 

He searched the place just to be sure. The only sign Rosa had ever even been here was the pile of dishes in the sink and a note to Liz on the counter.

Alex cursed as he slid back into his car. He had no idea where she’d gone but he figured the bus station was a safe bet, considering her license was ten years out of date and she didn’t actually have a car, not even Max’s. Alex never thought he’d be grateful to Isobel for parking Max’s car at her house but he knew if Rosa had had his keys, Alex never would have caught up to Rosa.

He was almost to the edge of town when he saw a woman walking along the side of the road, an overstuffed backpack weighing her down. Alex ignored the other cars on the road and slowed to a crawl next to her. “Get in,” he called through the open window. 

Rosa just looked at him sadly and shook her head. “I can’t.” She kept walking.

A horn honked loudly behind him but Alex ignored it. It was a two way street, they could go around him. He sped up just a little and angled the car off to the right and cut Rosa off. There wasn’t much of a shoulder so traffic was still blocked but it gave the other cars a modicum of space to slip around him. Alex unhooked his seatbelt and hurried out of the car and planted himself in front of Rosa.

“Alex-” she started.

“Where do you wanna go?” Alex cut her off. “Want to go west? California? Or north? Or east? I wouldn’t recommend south right now because coming back over the border would be a mess but pick any other direction and we’ll go.”

Rosa eyed him. “Why?”

“Because I know what it’s like to run,” Alex answered simply.

She scoffed. “Alex Manes? Running away from his problems?” She shook her head. “That’s not you.”

He smiled sadly, mourning briefly for the teenager she remembered. “Where are we going?”

Rosa looked at the car then back at him. “I can’t stay, Alex,” she warned. “And I don’t know if I can come back.”

“I know.” He raised an arm and pointed at the car. “So where to?”

She still didn’t look like she quite believed him but eventually she smiled. “I want to see the ocean.”

“California it is.”

---

From: Guerin

What was your excuse this time?

Alex tore his gaze away from the waves and stared at his phone. It hadn’t even been a full day since they’d left. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice their absence yet and he would’ve bet good money that Michael wouldn’t be the first. The last few days had been strained between them and Alex wasn’t sure why or how to fix it. He wasn’t sure if it was Caulfield or Max or Maria or some combination of all three of them. He wasn’t even sure if the problem wasn’t just him and Michael.

He’d be lying if he said he only left because of Rosa. Sometime in the last decade, Alex had become a runner, the urge to just get up and leave constantly under his skin. He wasn’t sure if he needed a specific reason any more or if he just waited until the world handed him an excuse. He looked back down at his phone, rereading Michael’s message. He’d never thought about Michael’s word choice before but suddenly it seemed important. Like Michael understood what Alex had never been able to admit. 

Without putting too much thought into it, Alex snapped a picture of the early morning sun glinting off of the waves, Rosa’s smile bright as she turned back to look at him, her feet kicking up the shallow water on the beach. He sent it to Michael without adding a message. 

Rosa ran awkwardly up the beach and sprinkled some water on him. “Taking pictures of me? Perv,” she teased as she flopped onto the bench next to him. “That whole fake leg is really a bummer on the beach.” Alex tensed as he did whenever anyone mentioned his leg but Rosa’s lackadaisical way of going about it made him relax almost immediately.

“You could always carry me down to the water,” he nudged her shoulder. “Think you’re strong enough?”

Rosa scoffed. “For your fat ass? As if.” But she nudged him back and shook off the last bits of water on her hand into his face. “I’ll just bring the water to you.” Alex wiped his face off with a playful glare. “That Liz?” She nodded at his phone. Alex followed her gaze to see a new message from Michael. He turned the screen off and tucked it away without opening it.

“Not Liz?” Rosa sat up, a grin spreading across her face. 

Alex pointedly stared out at the ocean. “Not Liz.”

Rosa barked out a laugh before sobering. “I’m not the only one running, am I?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you’re running?” Rosa raised an eyebrow. “How’s that working for you?”

Alex ignored the question and stood up. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll get it out of you Manes,” she warned but hopped up anyway. “You’re buying. Y’know on account of me being dead and having no money.” She teased, the smile not reaching anywhere close to her eyes.

“So what I’m hearing,” Alex unlocked the car and tossed Rosa a towel to wipe off her feet. “Is that you want to get a job.”

Rosa looked up from wiping her feet long enough to glare at him. “Who’s gonna hire a dead girl?”

“I can fix that.” Rosa got in and Alex turned the ignition. “Make you a new identity. You could pick a new name.”

“And what’s wrong with Rosa Ortecho?” She didn’t quite huff.

“Absolutely nothing,” Alex replied seriously. “I can find you a new social security number and you can be Liz’s cousin with the same name or we can come up with some other story.”

Rosa sighed and thumped her head back against the seat. “Can we just eat?”

Alex let it go. “Yeah. Find somewhere that looks like shit. Probably has the best food.”

An hour later they flopped onto the end of a surprisingly empty pier, their stomachs full to bursting. “That was a mistake,” Alex groaned.

“A delicious mistake,” Rosa amended. “I can’t believe he didn’t warn us the special was meant for two people. He just let us order two of them.”

“He didn’t make us eat all of it,” Alex defended. 

“He should have spit in it or something so we wouldn’t,” Rosa whined.

“You would’ve eaten it anyway.”

Rosa paused. “Yeah fine maybe,” she confessed and Alex laughed brightly. He’d missed her.

They lay in silence for a while before the sun grew too hot for them to lay about. “We should figure out where we’re going,” Alex announced. He didn’t move, though.

“What’s wrong with where we are?” Rosa asked even as she rolled over onto her stomach. 

Alex looked at her. “Where do you want to go?”

Rosa pushed up onto her knees and looked around. “I don’t know. What’s there to do in San Diego?”

Alex sat up on his elbows. “The zoo?” He tried to shrug. Rosa looked at him and shrugged in return.

“Let’s go to the zoo.”

---

Alex’s phone rang just as they left the Reptile House, Liz’s name flashing on the screen. “Rosa?” He called as she skipped ahead of him. Rosa turned back immediately. “What exactly did you tell Liz?”

Rosa walked back towards him slowly, his phone sending Liz to voicemail. “I left her a note. Told her I couldn’t stay. That I love her but I couldn’t be in Roswell.”

“That’s it?” Alex asked in mild disbelief. “You died, Rosa. I know it’s hard for you but Liz lost you once already and-”

“Alex,” Rosa cut him off with a glare. “I get it. I died and put my family through hell. But my being back was putting Liz through hell again and I couldn’t stay there and make it worse for her. Every time she looked at me she saw Max’s dead body.”

Alex shook his head. “No, Rosa, she didn’t. She’s just trying to-” his phone started ringing again, somehow more insistently this time.

Rosa nodded at where he clutched it tight. “Answer that. Tell her I’m okay but I’m not coming back. And don’t tell her where we are. Please, Alex. She’ll come after me and I need some space. She needs it too.”

Alex disagreed but he didn’t want to argue. He answered the phone before the last ring could cut off and watched as Rosa walked away from him. She didn’t go too far, though, stopping just far enough away that she probably wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

“Alex?” Liz’s frantic voice calls before he can say anything. “Do you know where Rosa is? I can’t find her.”

Alex wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or disappointed that Michael hadn’t told her that Alex was with her. “She’s fine,” he promised.

Liz let out an audible exhale. “Where is she?”

“She’s fine,” he repeated.

There was a pause. “Alex,” Liz’s voice turned hard. “Where is my sister?”

“Liz-”

“Where the hell is she?”

“We’re not in Roswell.”

“What? You’re with her? Why? Where are you?” Liz’s voice, calm a moment ago, was frantic again.

“Liz,” Alex replied softly.

“Don’t,” Liz barked. “Don’t take that tone with me, Alex. I just got my sister back. Tell me where she is.”

“She asked me not to,” Alex told her apologetically.

“Alex-”

“Liz, listen to me,” he stopped and waited but Liz didn’t say anything. “I- I was talking to her and I saw that look in her eyes and I knew she was going to run so I offered to drive. I didn’t want you to lose her again so I thought if I went with her you’d at least know she was okay and she might come back.”

“Alex-”

“She’s fine, I promise,” Alex continued over her. “But she needs some time and some space to process the fact that she blinked and missed ten years. And she thinks you need the same to process the fact that your sister isn’t dead anymore.” He paused. “She’s not wrong, Liz. I can’t imagine what you’re going through with her and with Max. Maybe it’s not a bad thing that you two take some time apart to figure out this new reality we’ve got. I’ll keep her safe, I promise.”

Liz didn’t say anything at first, the only sounds between them her shuddering breaths as she held back tears. “She’s my sister, Alex.”

“I know.”

“I’m gonna call you every day. You’re going to be so sick of me,” she warned and he let himself smile.

“Can’t wait.”

Liz didn’t say anything for long enough that Alex had to check that she hadn’t hung up. “Take care of her, okay? Or I swear I will kick your ass.”

“I promise.”

“And let her take care of you.” Alex opened his mouth to object but Liz kept talking. “She’s your big sister, too.” She hung up without letting him reply.

Alex stared at his phone. “She okay?” Rosa asked. Alex looked up in surprise. He hadn’t heard her come back over. “Is she mad?”

Alex shook his head. “She’s worried. And a little scared, maybe. But she’s not mad.”

Rosa looked away before squaring her shoulders and plastering a smile on her face. “Let’s go see the gorillas.”

Later, Rosa will steal his phone and snap a picture of an eagle trying to eat Alex’s hair as he holds it aloft on his arm. (Even later, he’ll send it to Michael.)

Later, they’ll go back to the beach and he’ll take a picture of Rosa with her eyes closed and the sunset reflecting on her face and he’ll send it to Liz. (She’ll send back a ’thank you’)

Now, he lets her drag him from enclosure to enclosure and pays for her food and her ice cream and a stupid stuffed animal all without comment. 

---

In San Francisco, Alex finally texts Michael back.

To: Guerin

Why’d you kiss Maria?

 They’ve been gone just over a week. He still hasn’t talked to Rosa about why he left but he left a nightclub with the taste of another guy’s lips on his and a limp dick and he’s drunk enough to ask. It’s late and he’s not really expecting a response until morning, if at all, but his phone buzzes less than a minute later.

 From: Guerin

Seemed like a good idea at the time

 Alex didn’t know what to do with that. He stared at the message until a new one appeared.

 From: Guerin

A lot happened that day and my head was a mess and I wanted something to make it better

 So Alex made it worse. On one of the worst days of Michael’s life, Alex would’ve only made it worse. 

He turned his phone off before Michael could send another text. 

It took him half an hour to find Rosa but eventually he collapsed next to her on the edge of the beach. She’d taken to spending all of her free time there. Didn’t matter what city they were in or where they were staying, Alex could always find her with her toes in the sand. 

“Have a good night?” She teased. She’d gone with him to the club but was turned away when they checked her ID. He’d tried to leave with her but she’d talked him into staying and having some fun for once. (Her words, not his) Alex didn’t answer as he closed his eyes. “Hey,” her voice softened. “What’s wrong?”

“Love sucks,” he confessed and it was like the dam broke. “I’ve been in love with this guy since high school but we’re always on different pages and we can’t communicate for shit and I thought I was ready for more, ready to try it for real and I told him. I told him and then he kissed someone else.” Rosa carded her fingers in his hair and didn’t say anything. “I, uh, I asked him why and he said he’d had a shitty day and he just wanted something to make it better. Apparently I would’ve just made his day worse. Because that’s what I do.”

Rosa hummed lightly when he stopped. “I thought I was in love with this girl,” she confessed quietly. “And then she killed me. Or I thought she did.” Alex’s eyes snapped open but she wasn’t looking at him. “I woke up or whatever and she didn’t remember anything about us. It was like we never happened and I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“My dad and my brother rigged up a facility full of aliens to explode and I had to talk him into leaving his mother behind inside.” Alex kept his voice soft. There was no one around but he couldn’t help but be cautious.

“My sister’s boyfriend killed himself to bring me back to life,” Rosa returned. “And I feel guilty but also angry?” Her hand never stopped moving through his hair. “It’s been ten years. I don’t recognize the world anymore.”

Alex didn’t know what to say so he stayed quiet. They sat and listened to the waves for a long time. “He loved her,” he finally said. “Be angry. Be fucking furious. But don’t feel guilty. Max knew what he was doing and he knew why he was doing it.”

“Who’d Guerin kiss?”

Alex sighed. “Maria.” Rosa’s hand finally stopped as she stared down at him.

“Did she know?” Alex nodded. “Have you talked to her?” He shook his head. “Jesus. What happened to you guys?”

Alex smiled sadly. “You died.” Rosa looked away. “You died and Liz and I both ran and Maria stayed. We kept in touch but it wasn’t the same.”

“Nothing’s the same.”

---

From: Guerin

It didn’t

 From: Guerin

It just made everything worse

 From: Guerin

I should’ve come back. You wanted to talk and I wish we had

 From: Guerin

But then Max died

 From: Guerin

I never look away Alex

 From: Guerin

But you always leave anyway

 Alex stared at the phone with groggy eyes. He’d forgotten to turn his phone back on last night. 

“What’s wrong?” Rosa asked from the other side of the room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” She paused. “Other than me, I mean.” Alex spared a glare at her for the tired joke before his eyes were drawn back to his phone. 

The first four messages were sent right after the one Alex had seen last night. The last two were sent hours later. Alex stared at them and tried to imagine Michael thinking about them and deliberating over sending them. He couldn’t.

“Alex?” Rosa was next to his bed now. “What is it?”

Alex shook his head. “Love sucks.”

She laughed. “What’s he got to say now?”

“He said kissing her didn’t help,” he replied, still not processing it.

Rosa raised an eyebrow. “That’s good?”

“I have no idea.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Well. I say ignore it for now. We’ve gotta check out in like half an hour.” Alex glanced at the clock and cursed. Thankfully, Rosa had already packed up their stuff so Alex only had to worry about taking a shower and making sure he was sand free before getting dressed. They were on the road before their check out time passed, the map firmly in Rosa’s hand.

“Where we off to next?”

“Yosemite?”

“Done.”

---

By the end of week two, Alex had a brand new identity set up for Rosa. She’d kept her name, kept Arturo’s even. Rosalita Ortecho was the youngest daughter of Arturo Ortecho and an unnamed mother. She grew up in foster care until she reached the age of 18 and went searching for her dad. It’s an unfortunate coincidence that she shares such a similar name to her older half-sister that she never got to meet. 

By week three Alex bought a new cell phone and forced it into her hand. Rosa was quickly becoming obsessed with the wonders of the modern internet age and he was sick of her stealing his phone at every opportunity. Plus, it was high time the Ortecho sisters communicated with each other and not through him.

Week four saw Alex pulling up to CU Boulder. Rosa had asked about Liz’s life in the past ten years and all Alex could really tell her was where she’d gone to school so Rosa insisted on a detour. They bought a shirt at the gift shop that said CU Boulder Family and she made Alex take a picture of her in it in front of the school sign. She sent it to Liz from her new phone and Alex made himself scarce when Liz called her immediately after. 

He hadn’t talked to Michael since San Francisco. 

The pictures he kept sending didn’t count.

The pictures Michael sent back didn’t count either.

On the one month anniversary of leaving Roswell, he called Maria.

“Hey,” she greeted. She sounded reserved, almost timid, and just like that Alex was over it.

“Hey stranger,” he greeted warmly. “What’s new?” It was how they’d started every conversation while Alex was stationed elsewhere and it cut through the tension like it was nothing.

They chatted for a few minutes, Maria filling him in all of the mundane things that had happened lately. Alex in turn shared a few stories from his and Rosa’s travels. 

“I’m sorry,” Maria said when the conversation lulled for a beat. “I wanted to be selfish for once. I should have talked to you but, honestly, I didn’t want to.” No one could ever accuse Maria of beating around the bush. She had a tendency to be brutally honest when needed. Alex wasn’t sure it was needed just now but he appreciated the lack of pussy footing around the issue. “And I should have talked to you after instead of avoiding you.”

“Thank you,” Alex told her. 

“Nothing’s happened since that kiss,” she told him. 

“No need to hold back on my account,” Alex said weakly.

He heard the sad smile in her voice when she replied. “Yeah I do. You love him too much for me to try anything with him. It was stupid of me to think I could be that selfish. And besides, he loves you too much. I deserve better than being his second choice.”

“He doesn’t-”

“Yes, he does,” Maria cut him off gently. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two because he won’t talk about it with me but he does love you. You should talk to him.”

“I don’t want to,” he protested. He ignored how close it was to a whine.

Maria laughed softly. “Alex. Running away isn’t going to solve your problems. Eventually, you’ll have to come home and they’ll still be here.” Alex didn’t say anything. “You are coming back right?”

“Eventually,” Alex allowed. It was all either he or Rosa could agree to at this point. He looked up as Rosa collapsed into the seat opposite him, her phone landing loudly on the table in front of her. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Definitely,” Maria promised. “...tell Rosa I said hi.”

Alex agreed and hung up before tossing his phone next to Rosa’s. “Maria says hi.”

Rosa arched an eyebrow. “You two good?”

“Yeah. Takes more than a guy to come between us.”

“Damn straight,” she nodded once. 

“How’s Liz?” He asked as the waiter dropped off his food and took Rosa’s order.

She waited until he was gone before answering. “Did you know a person can sound old?” She mused. “My little sister sounds older than me. She sounds…” she shook her head. “It’s like she’s Liz but not at the same time. She’s not my Liz.” Her hands twisted the napkin until it started to shred. “I can accept that music sucks nowadays, that the president is a racist cheetoh, that my phone is basically a computer. But I can’t wrap my head around the idea that my little sister is an adult. She’s older than me and she’s- she’s a grown up,” Rosa laughed mirthlessly. “It’s easier to accept that you’re a vet and you lost a leg in the Middle East than it is to accept that she was okay without me.” The last part came out so quiet Alex wasn’t sure he’d heard her. 

“She wasn’t,” Alex remarked idly. “I mean she was but she wasn’t.”

Rosa stared at him. “That made total sense, thank you for that.” The waiter came back and she leaned out of his way as he set down her plate.

Alex smiled. “You’re right, she’s not your Liz. She’s a Liz without an older sister. And she’s okay, she got her degrees, she found something she loves, and she’s okay. But she’s also not because she’s a Liz without you.”

Rosa fiddled with her straw and stared at the table. “I don’t know what to do with that,” she confessed.

“Who says you have to do anything?” Alex leaned forward. “Rosa, no one can tell you what to do or how to act. No one has any clue what the hell you’re going through. What you and Liz are going through. You’re both just going to have to figure it out as you go. I’m sure that’s terrifying but at least you can’t screw it up, right? Because there isn’t a right answer here.”

“You sure? Because I think I’m still gonna manage to screw it up. That’s kinda what I do.” Her lips twisted sardonically.

“No, it’s not,” Alex refuted. “You’re not a screw up, Rosa. You never have been.”

She laughed. “I’d heard that people romanticize the past or whatever but in what world were you living in where I wasn’t a screw up?”

“The one where you were the first person I came out to because I knew I was safe with you,” Alex smiled. “Maybe you made mistakes. But you were- you are a kid. You’re supposed to make mistakes.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t mean you are one.” Rosa still looked like she didn’t believe him but she didn’t argue anymore. “Besides, whatever mistakes you did make, you’re a damn good older sister. You always put Liz first, made sure she was okay.”

“I was running away,” Rosa reminded him with a scoff. 

“Sometimes you’ve run,” Alex shrugged. “Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone else is make the right choice for yourself. If you’d stayed in Roswell just for Liz, do you think you would’ve regretted it? Then or now?” Rosa nodded without hesitation. “Then staying would’ve only made you resent her. So leaving was the right choice.”

Rosa thought about that and they made it halfway through their food before she spoke again. “Is that your excuse?”

Alex looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“Is that what you tell yourself? That leaving is best for both of you? Because if you stayed you’d resent him?”

“I-” he blinked. “I don’t know.”

She nodded like he’d just confessed something important. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Rosa hummed. “Where we going next?”

---

They made it to the Atlantic. It took them another month and a few unfortunate detours north wherein they were quickly reminded that they grew up in a desert and winter was not for them but they got there. Rosa wriggled her toes in the sand as the waves washed over them. 

She looked up at Alex as he took a picture. “It’s warm.”

“It’s February,” Alex furrowed his brow. They had the beach to themselves and he’d parked his butt on the edge of a pier. 

 “I know. And yet it’s warm.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean it’s freezing but it’s warmer than the Pacific.” She looked around. “I wonder how warm it would be if we went further south.” They’d hit Virginia Beach because it was the easiest for them to get to but they were only about halfway down the coast. 

“You wanna go south?” Alex sighed.

Rosa grinned and nodded.

They went south.

---

“We literally cannot go any further south,” Alex laughed when Rosa suggested it again. They both looked up at the buoy proudly proclaiming this spot to be the southernmost point of the US. He took a selfie of them with it and sent it to Michael. They still hadn’t actually spoken but he refused to stop sending pictures until Michael asked him to. It felt like a lifeline. Like if he stopped, then they stopped. And he wasn’t willing to do that.

“Come on,” Rosa tugged his arm. “The beach is calling my name.”

“The beach is always calling your name!” He laughed. She shot him a wicked grin over her shoulder and skipped off ahead of him.

---

Somehow they found themselves in New York. Alex blamed Rosa. Rosa blamed Alex. 

---

Boston was 100% on Alex.

---

“It’s literally a ball of twine,” Rosa gawked. 

“It does appear that way, yeah,” Alex agreed. They both tilted their heads to the side as if it would be more interesting from a different angle. It wasn’t.

---

In Austin, Alex finally called Michael. It had been almost four months since they left and it was almost three o’clock in the morning but he’d walked away from a really hot guy with just enough alcohol in him that he didn’t care.

“You pick now to call?” Michael’s grumpy voice answered. “Was three p.m too hard?”

“I can’t get it up with anyone else,” Alex complained. “He was really fucking hot and he knew how to use his tongue and yet nothing.” He thumped his head against the wall. “He had curly hair and all I could see was you.”

“...I don’t know what you want me to say here,” Michael admitted.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

Michael sighed and Alex heard the sheets rustling as he moved around. “Because I was a mess and I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s not an excuse and it’s not an apology. It’s just what it is. If I could go back would I do it differently? Probably.” He paused. “Why’d you leave?”

“Because Rosa was,” Alex answered. “And I didn’t want to let her go by herself.”

Michael hummed. “That the only reason?”

Alex sighed. “You kissed my best friend,” he accused softly.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “I did. That’s all I did, by the way.”

“I know,” Alex assured him. “She told me.”

“Yeah, she mentioned she’d talked to you.” There was an accusation in his voice. Alex ignored it.

“What do you want from me?” Alex had to ask. “What do you want from us?” Michael didn’t answer right away. “Do you even know?”

“Do you?”

Alex hung up.

---

“Isobel called me,” Rosa announced as they drove through the endless corn fields of Kansas.

“Oh?”

“She said she remembered some things from back then but she didn’t know what it all meant.”

Alex waited.

“Why do I have to tell her?”

“You don’t.”

Rosa looked at him. “But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know who we were to each other.”

“And that sucks for her, really it does. But that doesn’t mean you have to make yourself uncomfortable to remind her. I know she’s a painful subject and I can’t imagine trying to talk to her about her would be any less painful.”

She looked out the window. “It’s not.”

“If you want to talk to her, then do it,” Alex advised. “But don’t do it if it’s going to hurt you. Remember it’s okay to pick yourself first.”

They made it to Nebraska before either of them said another word.

---

“How’s Guerin?” Rosa asked in Nashville.

“How’s Isobel?” 

Rosa shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’m putting me first,” she smiled around her straw. “Guerin?”

Alex let out a heavy sigh. “We don’t know what we want.”

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“Talked? Austin.”

“Texted?” Alex’s phone buzzed then, Michael’s name flashing on the screen as if summoned, and Rosa laughed. “So?”

Alex shrugged and turned the phone face down. “It’s a work in progress.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Good? Or…?”

“I don’t know,” Alex sighed. “And that’s the problem.”

“But you love him.” She didn’t phrase it as a question because by this point she knew better.

“And yet we don’t seem to be good for each other.”

“Says who?”

Alex stared at her. “The past ten years.”

Rosa pulled the straw out of her shake and sucked a chunk of ice cream out the other end. “Sounds like you’ve never actually tried before. So how do you know if you’re good for each other or not?”

Alex didn’t have an answer for her.

---

They went to Vegas for Rosalita’s 21st birthday. The less said about that weekend, the better. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and all that jazz.

(except for the three drunken phone calls to Michael, the unintelligible message on Isobel’s machine, the 27 texts in a group chat with Liz and Maria, and the four videos sent to Kyle - those unfortunately did not stay in Vegas)

---

Rosa drove them back to California so she could learn how to surf. Alex found a bar that reminded him of the Wild Pony with an open mic night and a guitar for him to use. 

They stayed there for two months.

---

It was almost eight months after they’d left when their phones went off almost simultaneously in the middle of the night.

Five minutes later they sat in silence, the dark room suddenly oppressive. 

“They’re going to wake Max up,” Alex broke the silence. 

“She wants me to meet him,” Rosa admitted quietly. She waited half a beat before she was up and out the door. Alex let her go. Sometime in the last few months, Rosa had taken to literally running her stress off. Alex wasn’t sure if three a.m. was a good time to go running by herself but they were in a small coastal town in Maine and he wasn’t too worried.

Instead of following her, he shifted on his bed until he was sitting up against the headboard and he waited. 

He didn’t wait long. Maybe ten minutes after Kyle and Liz called them, his phone rang again.

“Kyle and Liz already called,” he answered.

“You asked me what I want,” Michael replied. “I want you. I want you here and I want you with me when I get my brother back because I want my family here and together and I can’t have that if you’re on the other side of the country.”

He said it like it was that simple. 

Maybe it was.

“Okay.” 

They both hung up after that, no need for any more words. Not when they’d see each other soon.

When Rosa came back half an hour later, sweaty and panting, she took one look at him and nodded in resignation. “We’re going back.”

“I’m going back,” Alex corrected. “You have to decide what’s best for you.”

She flopped onto her bed. “What if I don’t know what that is?”

Alex considered his next words. “Well. You’ve tried running. How about you go home and see about staying?”

She rolled over to look at him. “The entire town of Roswell thinks I’m dead,” she reminded him. “My dad still thinks I’m dead.”

Alex turned to face her, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. “We just tell them your cover story. They might not buy it but I think they’ll accept it in the face of literally any other explanation. And I think it’s time your dad knew, don’t you?”

“I don’t know, Alex.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” he reminded her. “I can leave you the car and catch a plane back. You can keep traveling.”

She shook her head and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going back to sleep.” Alex let her go.

He managed a few hours of sleep before getting up and taking his own shower and packing his things. In the fifteen minutes he spent running out for breakfast, Rosa got up and packed everything else.

“What?” He stared at the room when he got back, greasy take out in hand. Everything was packed and ready to go. For both of them. 

Rosa took the food from him without meeting his eyes. “I miss my sister.”

---

It took them two days to get back. Truthfully it probably should’ve taken them three, maybe even four, but they only stopped for food, gas, and a few hours of sleep when neither one of them could keep their eyes open anymore. 

They rolled into Roswell at almost midnight the following night and Alex dropped Rosa off at the Crashdown with a smile and a (gentle) shove out of the car. He waited just long enough to see Liz come downstairs with a bat only to drop it in shock. The two of them collided in a hug so fast Alex honestly wasn’t sure he could say who moved first. 

He left them to their reunion and turned towards the scrapyard. There was a fire dying down when he pulled up and a light on in the Airstream. The door swung open as Alex turned the car off and got out. The headlights stayed on just long enough for him to almost close the distance between them before Michael got a good look at him. 

“Alex?” Michael breathed.

“Hey,” Alex replied softly, twisting the keys in his hands. Michael hadn’t exactly asked for him to come by when he got back into town but Alex had assumed…

Michael was wrapping his arms around him before Alex registered that he’d left the doorway. He pressed his face into Alex’s neck and held him tight. Alex tensed in surprise before returning the hug in kind. “How was Bar Harbor?” Michael mumbled into his shirt.

“Bah Habah,” Alex corrected with a small grin. Michael pulled back just far enough to raise an eyebrow. Alex shrugged. “It’s how they say it. It was nice.” He smiled. “Good to be home, though.”

“Yeah? Didn’t think you missed Roswell all that much,” Michael questioned.

“I didn’t,” Alex shook his head. “But I got back into town an hour ago and I wasn’t home until just now.”

Michael grinned. “Wow.” He laughed and shook his head. “That was so cheesy.”

Alex blushed and started to pull back. Michael didn’t let him go far before he was pulling back in. He cupped the back of Alex’s head and kissed him gently. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Alex confessed before kissing him again. 

---

They woke Max up two days later. The first thing he did was ask for Rosa. 

The first thing she did was slap him upside the head. “Don’t ever die on my sister again.”

He laughed breathlessly. “I won’t if you won’t.” 

Alex was a little afraid Liz’s face was going to break with how wide she was smiling. 

---

 Three months later Rosa left again. This time, Alex stayed and Liz went with her. They had a going away party and Arturo gave both of his girls hugs before waving them off. Alex had been right when he’d said the people in Roswell wouldn’t believe Rosa’s new life story but they’d accept it over the truth. No one really questioned how or why Arturo suddenly had a new younger daughter named Rosa who looked exactly like the old Rosa. They didn’t want the answer if they did. 

As they drove away, Michael tightened his grip on Alex’s waist. “You want to join them?” He’d already asked Alex that no less than eight times since Rosa announced she was ready to hit the road again. 

“No,” Alex answered anyway. “Besides, next time I leave, you’re coming with me.”

---

(Rosa and Liz were gone for almost four months. Max was a mopey mess the entire time but the two came back with a stronger bond than ever and the absolute certainty that Rosa and Vegas are a bad combination. They all had the messages to prove it.)

---

(Alex left a year after they got back. He took Michael with him. They didn’t come back for almost two years. Thank god for Airstreams.)

#very long so if the read more doesnt work i'm deleting it #malex fic #roswell fic #rnm #my fic

[mrneighbourlove]

Wake Up Leere

A Sequel to Evil’s Bane. Happy Halloween!

“Wake up Leere. Please wake up. We need you.”

~

“NOOOOO!!!”

Leere Dragmire rose from her bed awake in startled manner, gasping for air after screaming furiously. There was so much rage in her heart, and she had no idea why. Taking a few moments to breath and lower her heart rate down, Leere finished off with a little chant to herself. “No worse shadows than the ones that come from closing your eyes. You’ve had enough sleep for the day.”

Throwing her feet off the bed, she leapt off to get changed. Sunny must have already awoken for work around the ranch. Getting dressed, Leere walked to her office door, only to find it locked. “Oh, come on.”

Fiddling with the lock, Leere started to get frustrated. She told her daughter in the past to never lock her out of her office. “Alright now Joy, open up. If I have to come in after you, I’m going to be very upset.”

She knocked on the door a few times. When no answer came, Leere decided to peer through the lock hole. Maybe her daughter wasn’t in there after all and the door just happened to be malfunctioning. Bending down to look through the lock, Leere was met with the ghostly image of herself looking right back at her. This startled the woman to jump back. “What the hell?!”

To make matters worse, the ghostly version of herself walked through the door to smile down at her. “Finally awake? Good morning Leere.”

Leere’s first instinct was to try and bind the ghost with her magic, but it wasn’t working. “Stay back spirit!”

“Leere. You can stop that. Your magic isn’t going to work here.”

The Sage was reluctant to listen, but the results were speaking for themselves. “What do you want with me? Who are you and why do you look like me?”

The ghost Leere rubbed her chin, nodding along. “All good questions. As for why and who, that’s simpler to answer. I am the angel of purgatory, Katha. The form I take is one that mortals can easily process. Themselves.”

“Purgatory?” Leere started to feel sick. “Wait. That’d mean I’m…”

Katha looked at the door and opened it open. What as on the other side was not Leere’s office, but instead a block of town covered in a deep, deep foreboding fog. “Come with me Leere Dragmire.”

Once again, the Sage was reluctant, but didn’t see other alternatives. Stepping out of her room, Leere breathed in the fog. It tasted oddly like her sister in law’s cotton cherry candy. “Why-?”

“Does it taste like something slightly tasty when you breath in the fog? The fog wants you to grow comfortable here. I rather you not.”

The town blocks Leere and Katha walked through had small businesses on the sides, or three-story rooming. Everything was tight together, but even so Leere could only make out a building when it was 15ft in front of her. Clearing her throat, she asked the question anyone with mortality feared. She’d seen it enough from spirits she communicated with in the past. “Am I dead?”

Katha turned to her with a straight face. Were they mad? It was frightening to see her own blood-soaked face look at her like that. “No. Not yet.”

Arriving at a bench, Katha took a seat, urging Leere to join them. When both of them sat down, Katha let out a sigh. “You are a very special case Leere Dragmire. It seems every spirit wants you. Ba’puu wants you back alive and going back to protecting Hyrule. Zarazu and some of the other gods think you’ve put in enough time in protecting the world, should stop cheating death, and let your soul be reincarnated so that the next shadow sage can be selected amongst the mortals.”

“My sister in law wants me dead?”

“No, no, no. The actual goddess of death Zarazu.” Katha waved their hand to dismiss the silly thought. “Heaven and Hell both want you dead and in their possession. Yet you’ve hung on thanks to your own stubbornness and those of your friends.”

“If I’m not dead, then why am I here?”

“Sorry, I have to tip toe around this, because if you remember too quickly, we’ll kickstart events far too quickly.” As Leere raised an eyebrow at them, Katha continued without breaking pace. “In this realm, most of the time, I look after souls who are so damaged, so broken by the circumstances of their deaths they are too weak to linger on the living world as spirits, but not ready to go to a Heaven or Hell yet. Sometimes, there are souls who are split down the middle with all the good and bad deeds they’ve done. Those souls take special trials to decide where they’ll end up.”

Leere felt a hot tingle run up her spine when Katha grinned at her with the image of her own skin growing leathery by every passing second. “Then there’s those like you. People with a strong connection to magic or the spiritual who suffered a horrific near-death experience to both the body and soul. Your soul becomes separated from your body until both are healed.”

The Sage felt angry at herself, but why? She couldn’t recall, but she felt like the facts were just under the surface ready to be uncovered. “Why? What happened to me?”

“If you want to return to your body, all you have to do is have the will to find the door. Your soul was recovering its need to use magic and hold its strong connection to the spiritual. Afterall, you nearly sacrificed yourself for the greater good. Isn’t that Leere Dragmire?”

‘Why are you so foolish?! So unbelievably stupid?! You never listened to him… why couldn’t you just listen?’

A familiar voice echoed in Leere’s head, and a spike of pain hit her backside, traveling up her spine up to her head. A horrifying memory of fighting a demon filled her mind. It was going to devastate the world if she hadn’t put a stop to it. Her quest to stop evil meant sacrifice itself. “Oh, sweet goddess.”

Around them, a wailing siren of souls echoed out in the town, hidden by the thick layer of fog. “Well, you’ve remembered how you got here. Now they’ll want to keep you here.”

Leere got off the bench, looking around. “Who does?”

“You’re an interesting soul Leere. Despite the good you’ve done; you’ve done vile acts as well. Such as the souls you turned into energy for your blood magic. Except you didn’t even use all of their soul matter. Now those men cling to your soul as vile ghosts. Not to mention the little demonic residue that lingers on you. They will want you to leave too. Only the exit they want to take you too is far more gruesome than the living world.”

Leere looked around for a weapon to use, or a way to escape to. “How do I know what to look for?”

Katha got up, picking off the flesh on their check. “Trust your instincts Leere Dragmire. You’ll know when you see it.”

As Katha walked away into the deep fog, Leere decided just standing around wasn’t going to cut it out for her. With a fast start, the Sage took off sprinting down the streets. “Instincts. Trust my instincts. Do I really sound so fucking droll when I’m preachy?”

Coming from an alley way, something ran at her. It was a man’s body twisted into the shape of a dog. Only their head was screwed 180 degrees backwards. It was an odd sensation, but as Leere kept running past the shambling creature, she knew exactly who it was. Larry the Dog Butcher. A sickening piece of shit who killed puppies in Danjur as a way to make money. She knew he did it primarily for fun. The human mutt groaned aloud, running at her with an awkward sprint. Even when it caught up at her, all it could do was manage to punch her in the back.

With a furious determination, Leere spun around on the monster, reeling a kick to its head when it lunged at her. The hound squealed and whined, turning tail. Leere hated that it mocked the cries of innocents to make her pity it. Turning her around, she realized the fog had a funny way of sneaking things up on her. There was just enough visibility to reveal a courtyard leading to a large factory. What looked like a smoke stake revealed a large tower up ahead.

Just as she was about to start walking towards it, a loud snapping sound was heard behind her. In the fog, the wail of the hound was heard, being replaced by a trumpeting vibration. Leere decided to book it to factory doors before whatever that thing was saw her. Let her demons tear each other apart for once.

Arriving at the doors, Leere had to smash her shoulder into them a couple times to get them open. She never looked back, but she heard the vibrations getting closer as she was breaking in. Pressing the door closed, she found an iron bar to bring down to lock the entrance. Catching her breath, she expected whatever was outside to try and force itself in. Instead, she was only greeted with silence.

Turning around, she saw that she was in a narrow hallway with barbed wire walls. It was so thin that she had to walk sideways to avoid being cut up by the walls. At the end there was a door way. It would be a slow hop over, but she could make it unscathed if she was careful. Halfway through, she was spooked out of her mind seeing Katha again. “Well done Leere Dragmire. You picked the right door.”

Leere nearly threw up when she saw Katha use her body to crawl through the barb wire, keeping up with her pace. “Why can’t I use my magic here? This is my soul. Magic is supposed to be connected to the soul.”

“Because you’re still too weak. Even if you return to the land of living and reunite with your body, it could take years for you to have mastery of your abilities again. Maybe it could be less than a month. Or maybe you’ll never have it again.”

Leere winced as the barb wire snagged Katha’s arm, only for them to keep pressing forward and having it ripped apart. “Besides the needless reason to show me having my own image tortured, you don’t seem like a cruel angel. Why not just lead me directly to the exit out of your realm?”

“Oh, I can’t do that. Otherwise you’ll never be able to leave. Only your will can do that.”

Deep within the sea of barbed wire, wails grew loud as a red and black aura filled the room. Staring into the Abyss, Leere saw bodies upon bodies of Mortuus tore apart by the wires. As she keeping moving down, her face of horror told Katha exactly what was on her mind. “Yes. Them. Terrible. An entire country of souls all damned. They started coming here, but very quickly, they leave, their souls forcibly taken.” As they spoke, a few of the wailing souls appeared to be torn down to the molecule, stripped down layer by layer from the skin to muscles to bone. “You stopped the Evil from destroying the world, but it cost Malus.”

‘No… no gods why. Why did it have to be like this?’

Was that Sunny? Leere gripped her head, those words echoing her very own thoughts. When some of the Mortuus in the wire reached out to her, she didn’t know if they wanted help or to drag her in. Guilt in her heart drove her to believing it was more the latter. “I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard to save you.”

It seemed like they were getting closer to Leere, one even grabbing her by the hair. She had to punch a poor woman in the face just to escape. “I’m truly sorry.”

Katha’s word could be heard behind Leere as she pried the next door open. “Be careful. There are those who you couldn’t save, who you murdered, and who you damned. Context on how you killed them matters.”

Entering the next room, the black and red hues were replaced by a dark blue. There was an instant shift of temperature as Leere felt her body plummet to a cold shiver. The area was so cold that a thick mist floated around her as she walked through it. Pushing through a plastic tarp, she was greeted to a disgusting smell. Rows and rows of meat were lifted up on hooks.

‘Mommy. I baked you a meat pie. Can’t you wake up and eat it with me?’

The voice of her daughter poking inside her mind gave Leere a boost of confidence to venture past the wretched setting. Some of the stacks of meat the Sage had to physically push to the side. Just as she was getting used to the touch, she pressed her palm against something that made her skin crawl. That was no cow. Looking up, her eyes became transfixed on a human body strung up on a hook.

Backing away from the body, her back hit another body. Scanning her surroundings, she realized that all of these meat hooks were holding up human bodies. Why were there so many dead bodies here? She couldn’t puzzle it together until she saw the body of a Hasai Warrior on one of the hooks. Looking at another body, she recognized the face of a bandit she had to kill on one of her journeys around the world. All the bodies lightly swung back and forth, almost appearing to look directly in her direction. Why wouldn’t they? Every body on a hook was someone she killed in her life.

Feeling a stomach knot twist inside her, Leere backed away from the bodies, hoping to find another door out, when a hand reached out and grabbed her on the arm. This body was built like a scarecrow with straw, yet was filled to the brim with knife wounds that still bleed blood. On their shoulders, two pinks crows were picking out his ear drums. It looked like an existence of pain and misery. That didn’t stop them from smiling with flies in their teeth. “Icky caught you. You stop his angel. Now Icky stops you.”

Leere couldn’t stop the man from screaming out an ear-piercing screech. “Now Revenge is ours!”

The Sage pulled away from him, getting her shoulder cut apart by the grip of his nails. Moving through the meat, she saw the figure of her childhood demons push its way past the bodies to reach her. Being over eight feet tall, they had the same height difference now as they did decades ago. Only this time it was exaggerated to horrific proportions. Any part of their body that wasn’t clothed by the yellow jumpsuit was a deep pitch black to silhouette their hands and head. Only two piercing white eyes broke up the void of darkness. And both of those eyes were wide and looking squarely at Leere.

The colour of the environment changed dramatically to a grey scale. The only colour came from the man in the yellow jumpsuit with his clothing, black shape, and white eyes. If Leere had to face past traumas and lingering victims of hers, this would be the most powerful left over.

Leere’s first instinct was the freeze, but she quickly fought against that thought as the giant’s hand reached out to her. Running away proved to be difficult, however. Her with her sense of colour gone, everything looked the same to her. All the swinging sacks of meat down to walls gave her zero idea of direction. Feeling the air shift behind her, she ducked low to avoid the giant’s hand from grabbing her.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She was angry. This speck of nothing held no more influence on her. And like hell it was going to be the death of her.

‘We miss you Leere. We know you can pull through.’

That voice in her head. Was that Rinku? Sunny? Both equally urged her on to keep holding on. Glancing about, she saw a gleam of colour through the sea of bodies. The colour purple. She knew that others could easily misinterpret that as an ominous hue, but, to Leere, it was her colour. Running towards it, she heard a static rumble behind her. The yellow bastard must have not liked what she saw. It let out a rattling croak that sounded like it was just behind her ear.

Long ago, this might have rattled or faltered her. Now, in all her experience, she’s seen worse. And the dead were the least of her problems. Breaking past all the bodies, she saw that the source of the purple light was a mirror. It held the reflection of herself, and just behind her, the yellow pursuer. Their eyes looked down on Leere with intense hatred.

Breaking out more into a sprint now, Leere followed her instincts and dived at the mirror with her arms covering her face. It was time to escape this tacky haunted ride of her mind.

Her body smashed through the glass, and she gained all of her colour back. Her body fell into free fall, now falling down a long tube of images. As she fell downwards, Leere saw a silver string. Grasping it, she stopped her fall. It seemed this string had the force and girth of a rope. Gasping to catch her breath, she glanced all around at the images. They were patchworks of her entire life playing back to her. Every good memory, terrible memory, and anything in between.

Looking down, she saw foggy town in the distance. As she peered down, the structure of the town shattered apart. Every building shifted around with the fog. With this bird’s eye view, Leere could see the town turn into the shape of a face. With a grin, the voice of Katha spoke out to her. “Looks like you are ready child. What a strong will you have.”

“Katha! The town. Is this another one of your tricks?”

“I can turn my realm of purgatory into whatever I desire. It is my maze. And you passed. Now, its up to you if you want to return to the land of the living, or cross to the land of the dead. Follow the string. Goodbye Leere Dragmire.”

The image of the face broke apart like dirt falling through a crack. All that was left was the foreboding fog. Leere gripped the string tightly. Looking up, she saw even more fog. Each end of the cylinder of memories was the same. At the top of the string, she felt a sense of light. Comforting even.

As Leere started to climb up the string, she looked downwards. Down below, against the walls of the cylinder, the literal demons of her soul started to climb upwards. They attempted to jump and grab the string, only to fail. Leere gasped, determined to climb higher now.

As the demons raced upwards to attempt their luck at grabbing her, Leere continued to climb the string upwards. Finally, she felt a sense of calm as she felt like she was getting close to the top. Almost their, she was about to push herself for the final stretch, when she saw a woman look down at her.

Her face was neutral, but her eyes were devoid of joy. It was a subtle gesture, but she shook her head at Leere. The woman gripped the string tightly, looking up and down. Below, on the sides, there were demons coming out of the walls, birthed from the bad memories in Leere that played on loop. Hell wanted to drag her down. Looking up, there was a peaceful sense of light and warmth, but the woman told her not to go up. Why?

In a moment of clarity, Leere understood. Rising to the top was simply a different afterlife. One of tranquility, but still the death of her. On all sides of her was hell. If only she could plant her feet in some earth instead of dangling in the air.

Leere’s red eyes suddenly shot up with adrenaline and understanding. Kicking a demon in the face away from her, she looked down. Exactly below her. The string went down into the fog, but no demons were coming up to climb the string itself. She needed to fall back to earth. With a couple deep breaths, Leere thought about the faces of Joy and Sunny one more time. “Hope I’m right. I’m coming home baby.”

With only one hand on the string, Leere let her feet and other hand go. Sliding down the string, all the demons dove after her. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of even a glance. Just as she hit the fog, Leere closed her eyes.

“I wonder what we’ll have for dinner.”

#One of Two Halloween Stories today! #Leere #Leere Dragmire #Short Story #Will lead into a future story starring Joy and Sunny #Coma

[inatowncalled-murphy]

CIA-0014██ - CONFIDENTIAL

You step out of a government-issued vehicle, squinting at the shape in the distance, distorted by the heat emanating off the sweltering earth. The bright sun burns your eyes despite the sunglasses perched on your nose, but the shape on the horizon is unmistakable: a sparse little town with a tall, dark mass at its center. You duck back into the car and look over at the driver, nodding.

"That's it," you affirm, pressing the cigarette lighter on the dash. The man behind the wheel takes a deep breath, adjusts his spectacles, and turns the ignition. Irritation prickles across your scalp with the knowledge that the lighter wasn't getting hot until just now. However, the hot vexation behind your eyes quickly simmers into lukewarm bewilderment as the engine whines and fails to start; once, twice, thrice... You're soon out in front of the car and looking at its innards as though glaring at the great wad of tubes and chambers will spontaneously start the machine.

There is nothing wrong with the vehicle save the mysteriously unyielding engine. In a sudden fit of rage, you swear violently, kick the bumper and chuck your sunglasses as far as your arm allows, rousing your counterpart from the car. After a long pause, he gestures tentatively to the now half-buried sunglasses, small against the rippling sand,

"D'you want me to fetch those?" Your temper bubbles up in your head like a kettle, making your already very hot face even hotter and you shoot him a nasty look. Even so, you refrain from shouting at him because he doesn't deserve it; he isn't stupid and knows just as well as you do the situation that you're both in. You're stranded, with no transportation, in the middle of a desert with only one option in the face of death by heatstroke under the hateful sun.

You slam the hood of the car and peer over your shoulder at the horizon. The small, far off blob feels somehow sinister, a solitary monument in the oppressive, burning ocean. You steel yourself, beckoning to your partner, and abandoning the obstinate vehicle.

You follow your ill-tempered partner - his unlit cigarette now tucked behind his ear - less than 100 paces before you hear a long, pitched sound from the direction of the car. Your brain is computing in time-lapse as you command the attention of the stout man, now 10 paces ahead of you. He looks back at you scathingly and you feel safe enough to stop and look back at the car, still struggling for air in the near-distance. Just as you turn, the time-lapse of manuals, internet searches, and general knowledge flickering through your mind locates the most likely cause of the ghost-vehicle. As your head swivels, however, the solution slips from your mind like a bar of soap. The air is silent and heavy, and the car, which should have been well within line-of-sight, is gone as though it had never even been there. The desert before you now in that direction resembles nothing that you saw driving up. No dilapidated dirt road, no distant sign, not even the little boulder that would have been near the car - just the vast expanse of sand and heat as though you have always been here. You turn back to your partner and, to your dismay, he too is completely gone. The only thing in all directions is the inanimate undulations of the desert and the single far-off shape of your destination. You are alone now.

You get a strange unshakable feeling, as though you're underqualified to be here, like an archeologist standing before a great and terrible monument that whispers secrets about god. The world around you feels as though it's looking at you as you trudge onward.

The town can't be that far, can it?

You feel like you've been walking for hours upon hours – or has it only been 20 minutes... The sun hasn't budged from its boiling throne in the center of the sky and after so much time, patches of your exposed skin are feeling hot and tender beneath its glare.

It should at least be night by now, but the sun is anchored to its place high above you and you are so tired. Your feet sink deep into the sand and it takes all of your energy to push away again and keep walking, rather than sink further down, down into the dark, hot earth.

When you look down, your feet indent the sand the way they always have. You reassure yourself that you will not be pulled below the blistering waves and that there is nothing below you but dirt.

Blisters are rising on your hands and feet, and probably your face. The sun takes no pity and neither does your destination that grows no closer. You weep dry sobs with no tears, suppressed back into silence by the heavy air.

Every grain of sand, every particle of the cruel, heavy sky watches you like a suffocating beetle in a mason jar.

You awaken. When did you fall asleep? You stand still on hard, smooth sandstone at the edge of a precipice. It is so deep that you can't see the bottom even in the glaring sunlight, and a cool current can be felt brushing past you, down into the vast pit. It smells old.

The hole is a wide ring of near-white sandstone and from its bottomless depths rises a massive obelisk covered in small etchings that must be runes; however, you cannot discern what kind. The obelisk, also made of what seems to be sandstone, reaches high into the burning sky, it's long, dark shadow stark against the white sand.

You look at the shadow as the wireframe of your glasses burns hot against your already blistered skin, but something feels wrong about it. Something feels wrong about the entire monument. Voices echo distantly from the depths of the pit – you think.

You want to get a closer look. You feel like, perhaps, you may be able to see the bottom if you stand just a little closer to the edge – push your luck a little for the payoff of seeing just what's down there – maybe hear it a little more clearly.

The world is so loud. You can feel the particles of air moving past your ears, up to the sky from the searing sand beneath your tired feet - like rushing water.

You are so thirsty, the cool air flowing in and out of the chasm reminding you of what water must have once felt like against your now-cracked lips.

The tugging of dread in your stomach sends gooseflesh prickling down your arms and across the back of your scalp. You yearn desperately to step forward just a little and down, down into that cool dark abyss. The chilly upward flow of air as you fell would soothe your burns and at the bottom-

You would die.

Your gaze traces the tall pylon from its very point - silhouetted against the angry star, ever at its peak in the suffocating ocean above and around you - to what you think to be its midpoint where it disappears into the hole.

The distant overlapping voices from below continue their siren’s song and you allow your tired eyes to slide shut for just a moment.

Fractal shapes spiral in and out of existence behind your eyelids, imagery flickering through your mind. You take a deep breath of the cool air, opening your eyes again, and turning away from the site.

In all directions is the same bright, hot sand. You scan the horizon for your destination, finding nothing but dunes.

You once again begin to walk – a simple straight line away from the sculpture, returning to the oppressive heat.

You resume the repetitive trudge across the barren ocean, the flickering images and thoughts in your mind now slow, as though not thinking might preserve what little energy you have left.

After some time – you no longer worry yourself with such things as the exact amount of time that has passed – you come to a large dune and begin your steep and mindless ascent.

After a while, it becomes so steep that to keep your pace constant, you must crawl.

Your hands sink deep into the soft, hot sand, and below you can feel your fingers barely brushing something before you pull your hand out again and continue to climb.

You can feel your body getting tired. The scorching tomb coaxing you beneath the earth is somehow inviting. You could just lay down and sink beneath the sand.

But you get the feeling something awaits you at the top of the dune – not that your intuition has been much help thus far. Even so, you have nothing else, so you keep crawling.

At the apex of the massive sandbank, you stop and look forward across the desert.

However, there is no desert, and below you isn’t sand but concrete – asphalt, precisely. You look about you wildly enough to give yourself whiplash.

You now kneel in the middle of a long, paved road, and before you – albeit a little way down the road - is your destination: what appears to be a ghost town. From your position, it looks to be mostly residential except for some strangely shaped buildings surrounding what you and your partner initially came here for, the tall black cathedral at what looks like the center of the town.

As you shakily get to your feet, you can better see how the colossal basilica dwarfs the rest of the buildings in town, it's tall, skeletal spires puncturing the stifling heavens. You are instinctively afraid of the structure, even at this distance.

A door chimes and you look, startled and confused, to find a gas station only about 100 paces in front of you that you somehow overlooked. Exiting the gas station is your partner, looking exactly the way you last saw him. He holds a 99-cent lighter and a bag of chips and has a brooding sort of look on his face.

He spots you almost right away standing in the middle of the road, and drops his cigarette, begins swearing, then makes his way over as quickly as his stout frame will allow.

He begins to question you about where you’ve been for all these hours, and you stop him.

“I’ve been gone for days,” you assert, staring at him. He looks bewildered and shows you his watch, displaying the date you both arrived.

It feels like so long ago when you stopped to check on the car – more than a week. Could it have only been a few hours?

Your mind scans the events in your recent memory, and the sun begins to set behind you, a cool breeze blowing across your back and through your hair. You find no logic in the recesses made by your possibly imagined struggles, no rhyme or reason.

If you imagined all of that, then where were you? You stare down at your hands. They’re no longer blistered, but when you recall, you can remember the pain deep inside your skin – the hot tightness that rendered your fingers useless stubs.

You squeeze and release your hand, contemplating.

“It’s getting dark.” Your partner's voice pulls you from your thoughts. His cigarette is now lit and glowing in the dim twilight. The scent is the single familiar thing in this unfamiliar wasteland, and it grounds you.

You nod, gesturing down the road toward the town. You both begin to walk.

#writing #anthology #horror

[avengerscompound]

When She’s Away

When She’s Away:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  2364

Warnings:  Smut (F|F, oral, vibrator and strap on use)

Synopsis:  Natasha is away a lot.  The two of you hate the time apart.  That is until Nat finds a way to keep you entertained when she’s not there.

When She’s Away

Being the partner of an avenger could be trying.  It meant getting left at home a lot worrying they wouldn’t come back.  It meant pretending that you hadn’t been worrying when they got home.  It meant them pretending they were in no real danger all along, to keep your mind at ease.  It meant pretending they didn’t know that you knew they were lying.

It meant that you bonded with everyone else that had to stay behind too.  It helped to have people to talk to.  People who got it.  No one got it as well as Pepper Potts.  She had become like the group mom of anyone who dated an Avenger.  Whether the relationship lasted a few weeks or the years you had been with Natasha.  The thing that helped her cope, was making sure everyone else was.  Which was a lot to take on considering she was also running Stark Industries.  Where she got the energy from you’ll never know.

So when she asked you to be a bridesmaid at her and Tony’s wedding, of course, you said yes.  She deserved to have people help her out when she’d done so much to help others.  You were looking forward to being in the line up beside her.  Getting to dress up.  At least for something that didn’t end in your girlfriend busting the place up.

You had been meeting with a designer, florists, and bakers with her along with her wedding planner.  Not that you were a lot of help, but her closest friends and family lived on the other side of the country and while maybe her friendship with Natasha had been going for longer than the one with you, you weren’t always dragged away on missions.  You didn’t mind, even though half the time you felt like decoration.  Sometimes just having someone there to ask their opinion when you weren’t sure, who had your back, helped.  So you didn’t mind being that person.

It kept you busy while Natasha was out of town in any case.  Looking at flowers and tasting cakes and nodding and agreeing about dress designs you had no idea about distracted you from the fact that Natasha had been completely radio silent for two weeks now.

It turned out, she had been busy too.  She appeared completely unannounced with a present for you.

“It’s got both clitoral and G-spot stimulation.  You can wear it while I do other things to you the way we do with the bullets only twice the stimulation.  I can set each side to vibrate at different intensities,”  She explained as you pulled the vibrator out of its sleek box.  It was small, purple and ‘U’ shaped with two ridged bulbous ends.  It came with a large white charging station that it fit snugly into.  “It’s actually what they call a couples vibrator.  When they say couple they aren’t speaking about our more sapphic kind obviously, but if you were interested I could fuck you with a strap on while that toy was inside you.”

You turned it over in your hand and ran your fingers over the silicone.  It looked like a good toy but not any better or worse than any of the almost countless others the two of you owned.

“You know what the best part is?”  She asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“No, what?”

She smirked and came closer running a finger from your stomach down to your cunt.  “It’s small enough and snug enough to wear around during the day and it comes with an app that works from the other side of the world.”

Your eyes lit up and you gave her a little shove.  “You dirty girl.”

She chuckled and pulled you back close against her.  “Oh, I plan to be.  Can you imagine?  I’m out of town.  You have it here.  We can facetime and I can watch as I get you off from the other side of the planet.  Or, even better,”  She gripped your ass and ghosted her lips over your neck.  “You’re at work and I switch it on just when I get the urge and you have to pretend you’re not about to come in your panties.”

You squirmed where you stood just thinking about all the things she could do to you.  “Fuck.  I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Really?”  She asked and pushed her hand down into your shorts.  Her fingers slid up your folds, collecting up your wet.

“Tasha!”  You yelped pushing her.

She grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind your back as she continued to move her fingers up and down your pussy.  “We should give it a try.”

“It has to charge first.”  You whined.

“So go and charge it then,”  She teased pulling her hand out of your pants and slapping your ass.  “I’ll make us something to eat.”

You giggled and risked giving her ass a playful smack before running down to the bedroom with the toy.  You cleaned it off and set it up to charge near the bed.  You decided to set up a few other things too, to save Natasha the trouble.  You got out the harness and a red pyrex dildo and a water-based lube and lined them up next to it.

When you returned to the kitchen, she had made a salad and heated up a pirog that you had in the freezer.  She served them at the kitchen table with two iced teas you were already sure she’d spiked with vodka.

"How was the trip? Just spend it sex toy shopping?" You asked sitting down in her lap.  Even with her slight frame, you weren’t worried about her taking your weight easily.  She was much, much stronger than the average person.

She wrapped her arm around your waist and took a drink from her iced tea.  “It was fine.  I can’t really tell you much, but it was me and Clint and you know what he’s like.”

“He lets you boss him around.”  You said.

“Mm… that he does.”

“Who would have thought you like being in control.  What a revelation.”  You teased.

She pinched your thigh and laughed to herself.  “Such a smart ass, mishka.”  She teased.  You snuggled down against her.  Happy she was back and you got to be in her arms again.  “What about you, my darling?  How have you been?”

“Good, work’s been fine.  Same as always.  Being Pepper’s bridesmaid is… interesting.  I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.  Tony has a scary amount of money.  Like too much.”  You said.

“You’re telling me.”  She joked.

“At least I don’t think I’ll be wearing pink or tonnes of frills.  I think she wants us to wear white too.  Which… is weird right?”  You asked.

She shrugged.  “She has style.  Trust it.”

You finished your food and got up and stacked the dishwasher and returned to her lap.  You nuzzled into your neck and sighed contentedly.  “You’re being very affectionate,”  She said, running her fingers down the side of your neck.

“That’s because I love you,”  you replied leaning back and kissing her.  She slipped her hand back into your pants and lazily started to finger you as you kissed.  When she finally pulled back she pushed you to standing, pulled your pants and underwear off in one go and then turned you and sat you on the kitchen table.  You spread your legs wide for her as she guided you so you were lying back over it.

She nuzzled at your pussy for a moment, placing small kisses along the inside of your thighs.  You hummed and relaxed, letting her take her time, enjoying that she actually was for a change.  When her tongue finally swiped up your folds it startled you a little and you moaned arching your back and pushing your hips up, chasing after her mouth.

She grabbed your hips and held them down as she started to lap wide over your pussy.  She sucked at your folds and placed large open mouth kisses over them.  Your hand went to her hair and you pulled on it.  It seemed to focus her.  She made a soft growl sound and sucked your clit into her mouth.  Her tongue flicked back and forth over it sending a shiver from your cunt right up your spine.   You moaned and rolled your hips up against her face.

Pleased little sounds were coming from her as she used her mouth on you.  Soft hums and moans.  She was enjoying eating you out as much as you enjoyed her doing it.  Her pleasure seemed to add to you.  You relaxed more, not worrying about anything except how good it was to have her mouth on you.

She stood suddenly and picked you up, wrapping your legs around her tiny waist.  You thought for a moment how funny you must look, but you didn’t care.  You loved how easily Natasha could carry you.  You tangled your fingers in her hair and kissed her as she carried you down to the bedroom.

When she got there she dropped you down on the mattress and pulled her shirt off.  You scrambled to remove the rest of your clothes as she undressed in no particular hurry to take off the rest of hers.  She picked the vibrator up from the charging dock and started to apply lube to it as she turned it over in her hand.  You crawled up after her and pulled her close, placing a large kiss on her pussy and swirling your tongue around.  She moaned as the salty/sweet flavor of her fluids filled your mouth.

She let you kiss and suck at her pussy for a moment, moaning in pleasure as you used your mouth on her.  After a little while, she cupped your jaw and tilted your head up and kissed you deeply as she pushed you back on the bed.  You spread your legs and she eased the vibrator into your cunt, getting it into position so that it sat snuggly against your clit and pushed against your g-spot.

She stood back and looked down at you and picked up the remote.  “How does that feel?”

“Good.  Feels good.”  You said.

She turned the remote on and a slow mellow buzz started up against your clit.  You moaned and pushed your ass up off the bed like you were trying to chase the feeling it was giving you.  She started fingering herself as she changed the intensity, it went from slow and mellow to fast and intense and anything in between.

Natasha watched your reactions closely as she slowly rolled her finger over her clit, her devious little half smile playing over her lips.  You moaned and bucked and writhed in front of her.  When you reacted the way she seemed to like best, she put the control down and put on her harness.  It had a toy on the inside too, and she lubed it up and slid it inside of herself and added a bullet vibe against her clit.  She then lubed up the dildo she planned to use on you.

She pounced on you and you wrapped your legs around her and she slid the toy in.  It stretched you out and filled you more, but was in no way uncomfortable.  The addition of the dildo pushed the vibrator harder against your g-spot.  You groaned loudly as it sent a current of pleasure through you.  She started to slowly roll her hips against you.   Each roll added pressure to the part of the vibrator resting against your clit and increased the intensity of the buzz against it.  The buzz traveled out from your cunt through the rest of you.  As the dildo moved inside of you the vibrator would press hard against your g-spot.  Press and release press and release.

You started to pant.  Natasha cradled your head with her arm and looked right into your eyes.  Her mouth hovered over yours, her breath coming in hot and shallow.

“How’s it feel?”  She asked, her green eyes blown out with lust.

You leaned up and bunched your hand in her hair.  She captured your lips with her and you kissed her desperately, pulling her hair and dancing your tongues together.

“Fuck.  Fuck, Tasha!  Fuck!”  You cursed as she broke the kiss.

“Me too, mishka,”  She growled.

An orgasm took hold of you.  It crashed down making you cry out.  She kissed you through it as you clung to her, your fingers digging into her back.

She started to thrust harder, panting as her own orgasm neared.  Each thrust made the vibrate dig against your g-spot.  Your whole body seized up and you came again, gushing around the toys.

“Fuck,”  She groaned and came, her head falling back in pleasure and her body stilling.

You both lay there panting for a moment as the vibrator still buzzed against your swollen and sensitive clit.  “Okay, okay, need it to stop.”  You said pushing her off you.

You both removed the toys you were wearing and turned them off, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed as you curled up in each other's arms and let yourselves enjoy the endorphin highs you were riding.

“That one's a keeper,” you hummed.

She smiled and kissed your neck.  “Yes, I think it will do quite nicely.”

You walked your fingers up her side and trailed it under her breasts.  “Having this makes the idea of you going away again a little more exciting than I usually find it.”

She hummed and your whole body seemed to just relax.  “That’s what I had hoped.  I do very much like the idea of getting you off from a whole other country.”

You leaned in and brushed your lips over hers before nuzzling into her neck.  “Can we get you one too?”  You asked.

She chuckled softly.  “I don’t think a mid-mission orgasm would be wise.”

“No, but when we skype.  And maybe, when you’re having meetings with Steve.”  You said.

She laughed a little louder and kissed your cheek.  “The thought of him hearing is very good, but we shall see.  I’ll think about it.”

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #femslash #femslash saturday #when she's away

[missblissy]

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

((Hello, I had to get this chapter put up because I had so much fun writing it!! Reader/MC is here!! I will have the next chapter up very soon!! The next chapter will also be in second person POV!! Future chapters will go back and forth between Reader/MC and Arthur!! Things are about to get really good!! I can't wait to get the good parts when you and Arthur start falling in love~~ That's so far away still >:) Have fun reading until then.))

Description:

Dutch put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He had this sad look on his eyes and he said, “You know what to do,” And walked away to finish taking care of the parents of this poor girl. Arthur held the girl as she cried and thought about Dutch’s words.

....Because it’s the right thing to do.

He had to pry her away from him. She held on like it meant life or death. It was so bizarre because he was a total and complete stranger to this girl but she had gone from hating him to loving him in just a second. He could never see himself trusting someone so easily. Then again he wasn’t a child anymore.

“What’s your name, miss?”

She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

____________________________________________________________

How long… has it been? The lantern was barely flickering alive. It could die any second. This train just didn’t want to stop. As each moment passed, whether it was an hour or a few minutes, it got colder and colder stuck in that train car. It had to have been more than 20 hours, possibly more. Arthur was tried, he couldn’t sleep. He was hungry and regretted not eating much the day before.

Dutch was sitting beside him with blood covered fists. He took the rings off his swollen knuckles. It had been so long that his wounds had scabbed over, rock hard. He punched the walls so hard trying to escape that he was pretty sure he broke a finger. He couldn’t feel it though, so it didn’t matter that much.

There was a God though because Dutch had a flask he kept in the pocket of his vest. So it wasn’t all that bad, “Should of brought a book,” He joked while passing the rum to Arthur.

Arthur chuckled, “Yeah, like I can even really read one,” His voice dripped with dark humor as he tried to laugh at his own shame. The satchel at Arthur’s side had burned him with the thoughts of the book he had in there. It was his mother’s journal so there was no way he was going to share that with Dutch, “If only Hosea was here… He has that stupid pocket watch on him he stole from that funeral.”

They both chuckled at the memory. That was a very unfortunate day… for the family they robbed. Well, Dutch and Hosea robbed them while Susan provided get away. Arthur got to watch from where they left him near a saloon, he had only been with them a few weeks at the time. He was the one that found out that tip that a funeral was happening soon and told Dutch about it.

A shiver cut Arthur’s memories in half. The cold started to become painful. He looked to Dutch you seemed unfazed, “Can I have some more of that rum?” Dutch passed him the flask, and to Arthur’s surprise, it wasn’t empty.

He took a swig and cringed as the dark liquor burned on the way down. Thankfully it warmed his belly and soon the rest of his body too. The cold was still a problem, just less of one for now.

“Where do you think we are headed, Dutch?”

The older man took in a deep breath and brought his hand up to his chin, “North. That’s for sure. It’s February. It’s not spring yet. But I know its only this cold up in the most northern parts of this god damn country around this time of year.”

Arthur let those word sink in. How far north was north, “Like… Illinois?”

Dutch shook his head.

“….Ohio?”

Another no.

“How far, Dutch?”

Before he could answer the train’s whistle called out while bells rang. They were coming to a stop. Dutch and Arthur shared a glance and stood up at the same time. They had been sitting so long though, Arthur could barely feel his legs. The cold rushed in again and Arthur wobbled forward. Dutch caught him before he could fall.

Dutch pushed Arthur towards the front of the car so they were hidden in the dark corners behind the ladder. There was an unsettling scream as the breaks of the tracks fought against the cold. There was an echo that rang far and wide that Arthur could hear even inside the steal and iron car. His gut told him he was far from home, and his heart hoped his gut was wrong.

Several minutes passed while the listened to muffled yelling. It made Arthur’s heart sink every time he heard a burst of powerful wind slam against the train. Finally, after what felt like forever, someone had started walking above. The hatch was slowly peeled open and as light pooled in from the cold snowy world outside, Dutch and Arthur held their knives close. If they could get out of here without making a sound, they could probably live to see another day.

A man started climbing down the latter. He was covered in layers of clothes. Arthur shivered and held back groan when the icy winds whooshed inside. The man didn’t see them, but he saw the mess they made. He started to call for one of his friends but he was cut off as Dutch jumped forward and slit his throat. Thanks to the corners of darkness, Dutch and Arthur could hide from sight. His friend was already on his way coming down the ladder so Arthur was forced to be smart. Staying unseen, Arthur waited for the second man to get to the ground. He jumped from the side and tackled the man to the ground, stabbing him quickly in the neck while covering his mouth to muffle his screams.

Bloody and cold, they took the chance to swap clothes with these guards. It felt nice to put on heavier clothes. Too bad they had blood on them. It didn’t matter at this point.

They weren’t doing this to blend in they were doing it to stay warm. Dutch was torn between taking the money or the gold bars. He knew he’d need as much as he could to get them back to the open west. He hated the thought of not having enough to take back home to Hosea and Susan.

He chose the money. It was the easiest to hide. He stuffed as much as he could in each pocket and had Arthur do the same. They had about a thousand each on them. There was thousands more they had to leave behind. There was no way they could walk around hauling bags and satchels full of money without horses to escape on.

Dutch climbed up the latter, keeping his pistol ready to fire if need be. He poked his head outside and had to squint at the blinding whiteness that was his view. The sun was in the middle of the sky and slowly rising. He looked around and noticed they were stationed at a town that was busy despite the weather. No one was around so Dutch took this as the chance to escape. He waved Arthur to climb up while he kept watch, “Go!” He whispered, “Jump down in the snow, get as much blood off you!”

Arthur nodded and crawled to the side of the train. The jump intimidated him but he didn’t have any other choice. He flung himself into the snow and hoped it would break his fall. It did, but not really. His knees buckled when his feet crashed into the icy ground under a couple feet of snow. He was knee deep in snow and he fell to his side in pain. At least he was getting the blood off him.

Dutch landed less gracefully than Arthur but fought through the pain. He brushed snow up and down the dark coat he was wearing. Arthur was unfortunately in a gray coat so it was harder to hide the stains. He did his best to hide them or wet the rest of his coat with snow.

After a few minutes, they rushed away from the station and towards town. Arthur groaned at the sight before his eyes. It was busy and packed with people. Brick roads and light pools. Horses and carriages. It wasn’t a city. But it was a town on the verge of busting at the seams.

There was a sign on the walls of the train station. Arthur slowly tried to read it. He whacked his hand at Dutch and pointed to the sign, “New York,” He said.

“Dunkirk...” Dutch’s voice was barely above a whisper. The second some walked by he snapped out of his frozen gaze and approached the man with an unfordable about of smoothness. With a smile on his face he asked the man, “Excuse me, friend, can you tell me where I am? I miss my stop a few miles back, where is Dunkirk located in New York?”

“It’s about a four your train ride south of Buffalo, sir, ” The man was so helpful. It was like he got asked that question a lot. He kept his frown on his face though and then pushed aside to get back to his day.

Dutch wasn’t done though. He sidestepped and blocked the man again, “H-how far from Pennsylvania?”

“Three hours north by train,” The man was not happy but Dutch let him go. He got his answers.

“Arthur!” He ran over to Dutch’s side quickly. Something was very wrong. Dutch looked like he saw a ghost. He stared hard at the ground the franticly looked around, “New York!” He said sharply under his breath.

“H-how we gonna get back?” It scared him being this far north. Arthur had never been this way, he knew trouble was up here. He knew there was so much law that if anyone of these pricks knew his face they’d turn him in for the sheer joy of it.

Dutch didn’t say anything but he made a sharp turn into the train station. Arthur followed close behind him. The heat in the station was welcoming but the smell inside was spoiled by the number of people in there. It was cluttered with folk getting on and off trains. Waiting for trains. Waiting for carriages to avoid the cold. Seems everyone had the same idea. This wasn’t a problem for Dutch, he just shoved his way past people. He made it to a window after cutting in line. The teller was startled and taken aback when Dutch smiled at him.

Funny how Dutch looked like a crazy mad man and he didn’t seem to notice. Arthur was sure he was watching the man have a break down of some kind. Dutch did his best to keep his cool and ask, “Do you have a train that would be heading southwest? Texas? The Arizona territory?” He tried to speak slow, but his words still mumbled together.

Arthur watched from a few feet back as the teller shook his head, “Not for another three weeks, no. Can’t go that way with the weather right now,”

Something snapped in Dutch and he almost lost his temper. Again, he spoke slowly, this time with an underlying irritation to his tone, “How in the hell did that train from Arizona get here?”

“It came in as the storm hit, sir. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s more snow here than we know what to do with. No trains are allowed to leave the state until the weather has let up,”

Dutch stood there for a few seconds. He didn’t want to take this as his answer, but he had no choice. Arthur rushed to follow him outside. He could hear Dutch muttering under his breath.

“Fuck!” He said sharply. A few people looked at them. Arthur did his best to ignore their stares, “I hate New York,” Dutch said more quietly. He started walking into town.

Arthur followed close by. He couldn’t keep asking the same question. He knew he had to give Dutch time to thing. He for one was at a total loss and found himself helplessly and totally dependent on Dutch to survive.

They went into a general store and Dutch and Arthur bought some much-needed supplies. Dutch asked the owner if there was any place in town to buy a horse or a wagon. There was a stable but they were closed for the winter season.

For now, they got some cans of food, some booze, a map that the store offered of the local county, and two leather-bound empty journals. As they walked out of the store, he handed one to Arthur. For some reason, he thought he had escaped the role of being a school kid. But to his disappointment said to him, “It’s gonna be while until we get home. You should write. I know you ain’t good yet but you can keep up the practice. It’s something to do at least,”

Arthur didn’t argue like he normally did. He took the smooth black journal with a slight nod of his head in thanks. He tucked it away in the new satchel he got. He traded it for half the price of the old one which was falling apart. This one was made of wolf fur.

“Got a plan yet?” Arthur finally asked as they worked their way around this upbeat town.

“Yes and no,” Dutch said, “We can’t sit around waiting for the weather to get good. My face is too well known in these parts. I’m thinking we steal a horse… just one. We ride out on it and find some kind of.. farm. A ranch. There has got to be some even up north. We’ll get a wagon and ride back west to Cleveland. Get on a train there and see ourselves home,”

It sounded easy enough. But Arthur knew he had a few weeks ahead of him living on the road. As the walked further into town Arthur found himself looking at something truly spectacular. It was one of the great lakes. Erie, infect. The entire lake as far as he could see was frozen over. It looked like an icy wasteland out there. Dutch pulled him from his thoughts once again.

“We need to get word back to Hosea that we’re alive,” They set off for the post office. Arthur had to go in because they could have had wanted posters of Dutch inside. Arthur was only wanted in one state and they stopped searching for him a while ago. Dutch was much more popular with the government though.

Arthur sent out a letter to a man by the name of James Henry Garrison. It was the current pen name they had set up to keep in contact with one another. Arthur chose it when he joined the gang. His vocabulary was limited and his handwriting looked like chicken scratch. Arthur shook his head while he started the letter, pushing down his irritation at himself.

Dear brother, Me and Pa made it to New York. It’s colder than hell here. Talked to the teller about another train heading west. Says no trains will be leaving N.Y until the weather lets up. The factory didn’t pay Pa. So we don’t have a lot of cash. Just enough to get us back home. Tell Ma to not worry and if she has to clean up and move around then let her. Won’t be home for a few weeks. Gotta head to Cleveland by horse. We’ll be taking the next ride west from there. Hopefully. Will write back when we make it to Cleveland.

- Brandon

Arthur hoped the letter would make it to Hosea safe and sound. And hopefully soon so that he and Susan didn’t have to worry too much. The letter was short and sweet, it wasn’t like he could really write more because he didn’t exactly know how.

Back outside again, Arthur and Dutch meet their next task of stealing a horse. Dutch had been eyeing one while Arthur was in the post office. It was a large workhorse, strong enough to tread through the thick layers of snow. The huge horse was black with white spots and had a crazy mane. It looked nastier and meaner than any outlaw they’ve ever come across.

“How in the hell are we going to steal that thing?” There was a hint of attitude in Arthur’s voice. He wasn’t looking forward to being bucked off a horse two feet taller than him. Seeing as he would be riding at the hind end anyways, “Let’s say we get on it, then what? Walk out of here with all these people around?”

Dutch had a plan, he always had a plan. He shook his finger and went, “Ah, ah. Have faith in me, boy. Follow my lead,” The horse was hitched outside some kind of barn.

Arthur could smell the molten iron leaking from inside the makeshift blacksmith's barn. The horse was already agitated and didn’t seem pleased to be out in the cold. There were some low lives scattered around here an there but none of them seemed to be paying attention to anything. Dutch had started sneaking across the road, walking fast and quickly to the side of the barn. He waved Arthur over and the two stood there looking around the corner. Dutch had picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it a few times in his hand before took all his strength and pelted it at the window across the street into someone’s upstairs store. The two of them quickly hid behind the barn’s walls and watched the show start.

The store owner came running outside and instantly started yelling at the low lives that had been loitering around to behind with. It created the perfect distraction. Dutch gave Arthur a quick shove and rushed to the horse waiting to be taken. Within the chaos, Dutch mounted the horse and pulled Arthur up. As they left, someone noticed them stealing the horse and called out in alarm. Thank god this horse was huge and fast, they made it out of town before the law was able to show up and hopefully no one saw their faces either.

The wind bit at his neck and ears, and Arthur wished he had more clothes on. The horse that he had nicked name Bucky -because any second this horse would buck him- trotted through thick snowy paths. Arthur watched the coast of Lake Erie as they made their way west. The landscape changed from open fields to thick forests. He could still see the lake splashing out between pine trees. While Arthur was looking in the forest he noticed something.

“Dutch-” He tapped his shoulder, “Look. A house. I think it’s abandon. Or no one is home.”

Dutch slowed Bucky and gazed into the trees. There was a stone house that blended in making it hard to focus on. He squinted and spurred the horse towards the house.

There wasn’t any light coming from inside and the chimney was free of any smoke. There was little to no tracks, no horse, no sounds. There was a barn though that was busted slightly open. Dutch saw in there an unused wagon. He smiled and began to chuckle with joy, “Good looking, Arthur,” He praised, “Let's see what’s happened here,”

Arthur slid off Bucky while Dutch went for the wagon, “See what you can find inside. Get anything that seems useful,” Arthur followed orders and kicked his way through the snow to get to the house.

It was just as cold inside as it was outside. The door didn’t even need to be unlocked. Arthur pushed the heavy door aside and tried his best to see inside the dark house. It looked empty, but not in a good or safe way. As he pushed inside he found himself in a kitchen that was fully stocked. It was like who ever lived here had just up and left everything behind. There were pictures everywhere. Rugs, curtains. This was a house owned by someone rather wealthy but it was funny because it was so small and cute.

Arthur pulled out his revolver just in case some animals had snuck in, or if there was a chance someone was home.

He made his way into a living room and found a massacre. It made sense now, the house wasn't abandoned. It’s owners were killed in cold blood, left to freeze and rot on their living room floor, “Dutch!” Arthur called, “We got some dead folk in here!”

There were a man and woman, probably married from all the pictures hanging about. The looked high class in nice clothes but covered in frozen blood. They didn’t die peacefully. It looked like they suffered. Dutch had walked into the house. When he saw the bodies he let out a sigh that expressed grief, “A shame,” he said, “Snows too deep for the wagon,” It didn’t take him long to get back to business, “Seeing as our hosts are no longer with us… I don’t think they’d mind if we stayed a little longer. Go check the other rooms, see if anyone else is home.”

Dutch had gotten to work and removing the dead while Arthur searched some more. He found the master bedroom with the biggest bed he ever saw and a bathtub right there in the god damn bedroom. Right across the hall was a smaller bedroom. Arthur pushed the door open and was greeted with heat. He instantly pulled out his gun and aimed it blindly in the room. There was a lantern, lit and flickering, there were cans of open food on the floor. He saw something moving behind the bed.

It was hard to make out what he was looking at, at first. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he found himself looking at a child. A girl. She made it very obvious where she was hiding and she was even staring back at Arthur. When he pointed his gun at her she screamed loudly as if she was about to die. Arthur quickly lowered his gun and move into the room, “No! No! It’s okay! I put it away!” He stuffed his gun into his holster and raised his hands up, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The girl stayed in her place and let out a cry, “Go away!” She sounded sick. His voice was high pitched and stuffy. She coughed a few times then yelled again, “Get out!”

The commotion caused Dutch run over. He stood in the doorway and caused the girl to scream again. She picked up a stuffy animal she had and threw it at them. Dutch dogged the toy and shuffled into the room, “Miss! Calm down! We ain’t here to hurt you!”

“That’s what the other men said!” She threw another toy, this time it was a wooden horse and it hit Arthur square in the chest, “They killed my mom!” She cried out. Arthur got a good look at this girl. She was young but definitely not much younger than him, “They killed my dad! They just killed them for the fun of it! You came back to kill me too!”

Arthur took a few steps towards her, he was trying his best to not snap at her for all the toys she hit him with, “We ain’t those men,” He said slowly, “We saw what they did to your mama. We ain’t bad like them,”

She clutched tightly to a doll that looked like a princess. She took a few steps forward as she started to calm down, realizing she was in no immediate danger. She broke into a run and threw herself into Arthur’s arms and cried, “They killed them!” She sobbed, “What am I gonna do now, mister?”

Dutch put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. He had this sad look on his eyes and he said, “You know what to do,” And walked away to finish taking care of the parents of this poor girl. Arthur held the girl as she cried and thought about Dutch’s words.

Because it’s the right thing to do.

He had to pry her away from him. She held on like it meant life or death. It was so bizarre because he was a total and complete stranger to this girl but she had gone from hating him to loving him in just a second. He could never see himself trusting someone so easily. Then again he wasn’t a child anymore.

“What’s your name, miss?”

She rubbed her eyes to clear away her tears, “(Y-y/n)… (L/n)…”

She sniffed hard and coughed a few times. She seemed to be really sick, “How old are you?” he kept a hand on her arm, lightly holding it but also to keep her from clinging to him again.

“12,” He voice was so sad and raspy. He felt sorry for her. She was only three years younger than him but he could already see the innocents she had was gone. He almost saw himself in her. He remembered when he was 12 years old. He cried a lot then too, “I’m scared, mister,”

“It’s alright, (Y/n),” Arthur stood and as he did she took his hand in hers. It caught him by surprise but he didn’t make her let go, “We’ll take care of you. My name is Arthur,”

As they left her bedroom and made their way into the open end of the house, the bodies were gone but the blood remained, “He’s Dutch,” Arthur pointed at his mentor who was digging around in the cabinets.

“Why?” She asked, “Why take care of me?”

He stopped his snooping and Dutch met up with (Y/n). He gave that heartfelt smile of his. It was soft and only half a smile but it carried so much weight behind it. For a killer and outlaw, Dutch smiled a lot, “Because… It’s the right thing to do. You’re just a kid and you won’t make it on your own. I’ve always wanted children but no woman would stay with me long enough,” He and Arthur laughed at that, “You’re a lot like my young friend here,” He gestured to Arthur, “I plucked him from the streets too. He ain’t had nobody until I came along,”

She shyly hid behind Arthur’s arm and said, “Are you guys going to send me to the orphanage?” He remembered the building all the low live hung around back in town.

Dutch shook his head quickly, “No,” He sounded so sure and his words stood as firm as he did, “Not unless you want to go.”

(Y/n) shook her head quickly and clutched harder onto Arthur’s hand, “I don’t want to,”

“Well then, hello Miss (L/n). It’s my pleasure to formally meet you. I am Dutch Van der Linde, at your service.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #red dead head canons #red dead 2 #rdr #rdr 2 #arthur morgan #athurmorgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #Young!arthur #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #x reader #reader insert #you #/ you #/ reader #arthur morgan/ reader #slow burn #friends to lovers #fan fic #chapter #four #pre game #pre gang #canon times #head canons #rdr head canons

[ksmutty]

Dangerous(Taehyung/Reader)

Author: Admin Sunflower

Genre: Smut 

Warnings: Pegging, Oral, Mild dirty talk

Word Count: 2.2k 

A/N: I don’t really remember writing this lmao.

Summary:  “OOooo can we get a fic pegging Taehyung from BTS for the first time? It’s my biggest dream TT_TT” -Anon

“C-can I choke you?”

You never imagined that four little words could change your sex life so drastically. The first time you asked Taehyung if you could choke him, you were terrified that his eyes were going to pop right out of his head. Instead, he nodded timidly and and looked almost too excited. You had no idea that he would enjoy it so much, nor did you expect to cum so hard to the sound of him whimpering beneath you. Those four simple words brought you here just two short months later - looking for a strap on dildo in a sex store two hours outside of town.

“I still don’t understand why we had to leave town for this…” you nudged him with your shoulder. “Because,” he laughed awkwardly, “What if my friends are just as freaky as us and we bump into them? How would we explain ourselves?” “I’d hardly call us freaky.” He sighed a bit too dramatically. “Babe, just… stop. Help me.” You chuckled to yourself. Help how?

You brushed your fingertips across a row of dildos hanging proudly on display and they swayed back and forth. You guys had no idea what you were doing and you hadn’t even heard of pegging until Taehyung asked you about it. Well, you knew what it was technically, you just weren’t aware that it had a name. Your train of thought was subtly wrecked by Taehyung’s voice. “What about this one?” “Tae, I don’t mean to be brash but - it’s your ass.” You smiled upon seeing him blush. “If you think that one is going to be perfect, then it’s going to be perfect.” You could tell he was nervous by the way he chewed at the inside of his lip. You grabbed his hand and gave it a firm squeeze and the moment his eyes locked with yours you gave him a confident smile. It wasn’t like this was going to be the first time Taehyung had a toy in his ass. You were both experienced in the department so you couldn’t completely comprehend what he was so nervous about. “Are you okay, baby?” “I don’t know. Yeah - no, I don’t know.” He frowned and you gave his hand another squeeze of encouragement. “It just feels like this is a big deal. I get that it’s basically stuff we’ve done before, but I realized you’re literally going to have complete control over me.” You tried not to laugh but still snorted. “Taehyungie, I always have complete control over you. You’re beyond what they call submissive, babe.” “I’m just nervous, I guess.” He finally admitted with a sigh. “I mean, I’m really excited, but I’m really nervous too.” “We can take it slow, babe. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You set everything out on the bed. A bottle of lube and the strap on with a sleek, black, silicone dildo that Taehyung had picked out. You could tell he was still nervous and you suggested the two of you take a shower and relax. It seemed to help until you were standing naked in your room staring at the contents of what you bought the day before. “How do you feel baby?” Taehyung nodded excitedly, but sighed. “I’m worried you won’t enjoy this.” “I love pleasing you.” You kissed his neck and pulled him closer. “I enjoy the sweet little sounds you’re going to make because of me. Trust me, I’ll enjoy it.” Taehyung kissed you a bit too roughly - too needy. You were caught off guard at first, but melted into the kiss quickly. His tongue pressed against yours and you pulled him down on top of you. You dragged your nails down his bare back and he hissed, biting your lip as he pulled away. He kissed down your torso and made his way between your legs. He loved going down on you and you vaguely remembered at the tip of your mind an article the two of you had read explaining how lots of foreplay makes for a more relaxed pegging experience, so you didn’t protest. Instead, you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. He ran his tongue from your ass to your clit. His eyes locked on yours as he sucked your clit into his mouth drawing a soft moan from your lungs before repeating the cycle again. Your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged at the tufts, rocking your hips against his face. He pressed his tongue into you roughly and his nose was brushing against your clit. He was making the utmost vulgar sounds and his fingertips were pressing painfully into your thighs. “Fuck, Tae!” You squeaked. His eyes locked on yours again and you felt him smile against your labia for a split moment before delving into your arousal once again. You were so close to your orgasm already and you knew he could tell because he started sucking harshly on your clit knowing that that always pushed you over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head and with one last moan of his name you felt the coil in the pit if your stomach snap - spiraling you into your orgasm. “Oh, oh my god,” you tugged at his hair and tried to steady your breathing as he kissed his way back up your stomach. “I don’t know about you,” he pecked your lips as he paused. “But I am definitely relaxed.” You giggled and licked across his jaw humming as you tasted the remnants of your orgasm on his skin. Taehyung sighed and you both glanced over towards the stuff still lying haphazardly on the bed. “Can I put it on you?” You nodded happily, all too excited to finally get down to business. Taehyung left you with one last quick kiss and jumped off the bed with the strap in hand. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He kissed your calf as he slid the waist strap followed by the thigh straps up your legs. You lifted your ass to help him get the straps up to your hips and resting properly against your pelvis. Taehyung laughed as he adjusted the straps on your hips. “You look better with a dick than I do.” You burst out laughing and stood up on the bed so you could thrust your hips and get a feel for the motions you’d be using. Taehyung doubled over in laughter and you attempted to roll your hips around to swing the dildo in a helicopter motion. “What’s so funny?!” you choked out. “This is what you look like every single day! What do you call this again? The Hellicockter?!” The two of you were lost in a fit of laughter until Taehyung swiped your feet out from under you sending you tumbling down on the bed. He climbed on top of you and pinned your arms above your head. “Stop teasing me.” He smirked and brushed his nose against yours. You smiled and tried to kiss him but he lifted his head just enough to dodge you. You sighed in defeat as he ghosted his lips across yours but still wouldn’t kiss you - until you whispered right against his lips. “Let me fuck you, Tae.” You took your time as you prepped him, making sure he was relaxed and comfortable. Soft whimpers passed his lips as your fingers slipped in and out of the tight ring of muscle and you were thankful that you guys decided on the more expensive lubricant making for an easy and pleasurable stretch. He rocked on hands and knees into your fingers as you pressed gently against his prostate. He was already a writhing mess beneath you but you cautiously pressed a third finger inside of him and watched as chills crawled up his back as his upper body melted into the mattress. “Oh fuck,” he whined. “Babe…” “Are you ready, Tae?” You cooed, running your left hand soothingly up his back and back down again. He nodded, wiggled slightly to get comfortable with his face pressed against the sheets, and continued rocking back against your fingers until you pulled them from him. He watched over his shoulder as you rubbed the dildo down with a generous amount of lube before you lined it up with his hole and slowly pressed into him. “Is this okay, baby?” He moaned and arched his back while sputtering a broken ‘yes just like that’ and moving his ass in slow circles. You waited for him to adjust himself to the girth of the dildo. He rocked slowly into you, fucking himself against your strap on. You bit at your lip trying desperately not to think about the way your own arousal was dripping down your thighs already. The sight of Taehyung becoming a whimpering mess in front of you - because of you - had your clit throbbing and desperate to be touched again. “Babe.” Taehyung whined, his voice snapping you out of your small daze. “Fuck me. Please…” You smirked and at a steady pace began rocking your hips into him. You took your time as you pulled out and slid back in - getting a feel for the motions. Your nails dug hastily into his hips and you admired his lust-stricken face. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth hung open just enough to let beautiful moans slip past his lips, and occasionally his teeth pressed into his bottom lip as he whined. You tightened your grip on his hips as you quickened your thrusts and his knuckles began turning white as he gripped at the sheets. You smiled and let out a grunt of encouragement. “Such a good boy, baby.” You moaned. “Fuck, you look so good letting me fuck you like this.” Taehyung buried his face into the bed as a strangled moan ripped through him. It only fueled you to thrust harder and faster causing the bed frame to smack loudly against the wall. His legs were shaking and even with his face down in the sheets he was still being so loud. The entire scene was intoxicating. “Do you want to cum for me, Tae?” You watched, mesmerized, as he moved his hand underneath himself to squeeze his throbbing cock. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was near cumming untouched. A smile tugged at your lips and you grabbed his forearm to pull his hand away from his painfully erect length. “Don’t touch yourself.” You commanded. “Be a good boy and tell me how good I fuck you.” The moan that came from him drove chills down your stomach straight to your aching clit. You felt your walls once again clenching against nothing as you thrust into him with much more force than before. “Sh- I - Fuck!” He stammered through his whimpering. “You fuck me s-so good, babe. Oh fuck, just l-like that!” “Can you roll over?” An idea suddenly hit you. You wanted to see his face while he came all over himself. While he came for you. Because of you. He nodded, and you slipped out of him just long enough for him to lay on his back and position yourself against his ass once again to press slowly inside of him. He looked so fucked out; his bangs stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. With each gasp and moan his stomach tightened and his cock twitched. He was already dripping so much cum against his stomach. It pooled perfectly beneath his belly button and your only thought was how desperately you wanted to lick up the mess you’d made of him. Taehyung’s thighs began to quiver in your hands and he desperately tried to speak some type of warning that he was coming undone, but all that fell from his mouth was a slew of broken curse words and throaty moans. You slammed your hips against his with as much force as you could muster in four quick thrusts and watch him squirm as he shot cum all the way up to his chest. You were wide eyed and in shock at how hard he came and especially how much. You stilled inside of him, waiting for him to speak or breathe properly, but neither happened until you pulled the dildo out of him and plopped down on the bed next to him. You smiled as you watched him trembled and bite his lip, still living in his orgasm. You ran your finger through the string of cum splattered beautifully across his body and sucked your finger clean of the mess. “Are you okay?” You asked, trying not to giggle. “You came so much…” Taehyung laughed and finally opened his eyes to look at you. You smiled, running your finger through the mess on his chest this time and he sighed. “You are fucking dangerous.” You cackled and licked your finger once again before he pulled you on top of him- making a mess of both of you and you squealed even though you never really cared about being sticky with his cum before. He kissed you until he was out of breath again. “You’re dangerous, and I am fucking obsessed with you.”

#BTS #Taehyung #bts v #btsfanfics #bts fan fic #bts smut #taehyung smut #v smut #taehyung fan fic

[nonopiimagines]

Fandom: Fallout: New Vegas: New California Pairing: Ben Kurtz x f!Star Player/f!Courier Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2360 Author Notes: This mod makes replaying New Vegas almost a completely new experience.

part v.

Fort Daggerpoint. You would have easily dismissed the rumors about it being haunted, full of demons, or the epitome of all evil if your worldview hadn’t been so suddenly shattered just a few weeks prior. Talking about what existed outside of the vault felt like a dream, some fantasy made up by you and the other kids. You all knew you were born out there, but as you grew up, that might’ve all been a dream as well. Something unreal, unreachable. You were sure you were going to live and die in that metal tomb. It was almost unbelievable that you fell asleep in that dream and woke up in a burning hell hole, the bodies of your siblings scattered around you. And you had to crawl out of it into another hellish landscape that you never expected to have to fully realize and operate within.

So even though it would’ve have been easier to dismiss everyone’s claims about Fort Daggerpoint--including Ben’s-- you didn’t. It only took one earth shattering moment to teach you that everything was real at some point and though the words may have been twisted over time, their meanings still lay within.

---

It hurt like hell. You were afraid it was going to end just as it started: with your busted leg. It was just barely returning to normal and now you were paying the price without a full recovery. But you couldn’t let it end here. Your ears were ringing, your sweaty hair stuck to your face, tears pricked at your eyes, but your head felt clear in its objective: get the fuck out. Run. You have to tell someone.

Everyone was back in the Fort. You had to make it there. There were at least twenty super mutants standing between you and them. You didn’t even have your armor. You grabbed whatever weapon you could find and you just ran, ignoring the furious cries of your captors calling behind you.

It was the dam that made you the most nervous. You had to weave your way between the super mutants and dodge whatever weapons they were swinging or firing and you had to do it all with your hurt leg. You kept telling yourself that they needed you. If you didn't come back, they would fade into the dunes of The Pass and you could not allow that to happen, they deserved better. You deserved better.

So you were quiet. You gritted your teeth, held your breath, and hobbled along. It was easier than you had imagined, using the vehicles as cover, crawling underneath them when you felt too vulnerable.

You were clawing through the door of the fort, urging your legs to carry you farther and farther, just a little bit longer, up the vehicle ramp. You didn't realize how good it could feel to see the familiar faces of your friends and the relief of knowing that you had done so well. Coming back for them. They had been waiting for you.

It was easy to collapse into Jamie's arms, unable to speak as the stress finally caught up to you in the form of uncontrolled tears streaming down your face. They all looked at you, in your vault-issued underwear, your pistol still gripped tightly in your hand. You saw faces of confusion and concern but Jameson's face betrayed the horror he felt inside. He had sent you to your death but you survived. Maybe he thought he was seeing a ghost or the living dead, his guess wouldn't be that far off.

Ben followed your gaze and saw the same look you did before Jameson quickly regained his composure. It looked almost as though Ben was going to demand answers then and there, but after a moment of hesitation, he knelt beside you. In a moment of tenderness you didn't expect, especially in front of others, he pushed your sweat-soaked hair off your forehead and bore into you with his steely eyes. “y/n, what happened?”

You could not explain the rush of feelings overcame you when you heard his voice. It brought feelings of safety but also encouragement. This was not over. You still had to evacuate the Fort. You had to lead them to safety. So you took a deep breath and wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. “I was captured by super mutants but I managed to escape. We've got to get out of here though, they're looking for me and there's only one way I could've gone.” You spared a moment to glance at the ramp you were stumbling up just minutes before. “I need a stimpak--”

“Way ahead of ya.” Eric was bent over his backpack, rooting around for a moment before finding what he was looking for and tossing it to Ben. A super stimpak.

Before you could oppose, Ben ripped open the packaging and stabbed it into your naked leg, the audible release of the medicine signaling it was too late to protest. You stared at him as he discarded the used needle and tubing, his face more relaxed than it was a few moments ago.

“I grabbed this from an empty house in Union City,” Kira said quietly as she deposited a pre-war dress into your lap. “It's not much, but I want it back!” You gave her a brief smile, appreciating the way she always tried to lighten the mood, intentionally or not.

Already feeling the effects of the super stimpak, you sat up, shooing away Ben and Jamie. The dress fit you well enough, though you knew it would do a whole lot of nothing against bullets and grenades. But it was better than running around in your underwear. Grabbing your pistol, you turned to everyone and nodded. “I'm ready. We better get moving.”

---

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”

You were sharing a bed again, up in the loft of Dr. Marius’ house. Kira's snores could be heard from a cot on the ground level. Jamie and Eric went into town for a drink. It was just the two of you.

Sleep had consumed you for a few days after you arrived back at Union City. You had dreams of returning to Fort Daggerpoint, wandering the large, cavernous rooms but this time it was empty. No super mutants, no ghouls, none of your companions. It was just you, walking in complete silence, following your footsteps until you reached the door to Father’s chambers. You would never enter, you weren’t ready to face what was behind that door.

As you dreamed, your leg had healed itself fully. You weren’t sure it it was just a combination of the stimpaks and rest or if the parasite inside you was restoring your leg to near perfect condition. When you awoke that morning, you were able to walk back into town without any pain or hobbling. Everyone told you it was a miraculous recovery, but you hesitated to call it a miracle.

You slowly rolled over to face Ben. He lay on his back, chest exposed, with one arm behind his head resting on the pillow. You saw the faint outline of his scar peak over his shoulder and you wondered if he even remembered when it happened. His memories seemed incomplete at times and though he wasn’t afraid to admit it, you knew what it felt like to have a part of you that was foreign. Something you knew nothing about, but was there to remind you every day that your brain was imperfect and you were part of something beyond yourself, whether you wanted to be or not.

You continue to study him, your eyes dragging over his angular features, cascading down his chest and out to his toned arms. He was becoming an extremely adept spear thrower for someone who was kicked off the vaultball team. It was becoming harder and harder to bring to mind Vault 18, trying to imagine yourself and Ben sitting a table in the diner in the atrium or remembering the faces of your siblings when they were playing card games or recalling the way you felt when you showed Dr. Rossman a terminal you hacked. That wasn’t your reality anymore. The dry San Bernardino dunes, the uncanny red ferns in Black Bear Forest, the war between the raiders, the Enclave, the super mutants, and the NCR--those were your reality now. This was your reality. Sharing your bed with this man who you trusted without a doubt, who believed in you when you didn’t, who was ready to follow you into the sunset without a word. You both had seen and lived though unspeakable horrors but to share a moment like this--vulnerable, exposed, uncertain--was comforting and human. It was something to keep you going.

Ben deserved the truth.

“The super mutants wanted me. That’s why we went to Fort Daggerpoint. The NCR knowingly hand-delivered me to them.”

“Jameson?”

You nodded.

He just closed his eyes, his breathing was slow and steady, but the clenched fist behind his head betrayed his anger.

“Why?”

This was your only uncertainty. Ben had expressed to you his feelings about super mutants or demons, as he called them. Repressing his memories for so long only made the pain of remembering his childhood escape from the super mutants that much more potent. They killed his friends and family, they took away his home, his freedom. He was lucky to escape with his life. You were afraid to tell him that you were a super mutant. This parasite made you one of them and it was something you couldn’t deny anymore.

You could feel it in your throat first. The burn of the tears as they welled up out of your eyes and silently slid down your face. It was difficult to go back there. You were already there every time you went to sleep, aimlessly wandering. But you didn’t want to remember how it felt when you woke up inside the glass chamber, how cold the metal was under feet as you were beckoned into the vat of FEV, the lidless stares of the super mutants as they watched you, so proud of what you were about to become. You wanted to throw up, to crumple to the ground and wail until you awoke from this nightmare. But you had to keep going. To tell dumb jokes with Kira again, to discuss alcoholic beverages of the Wasteland with Eric again, to shop for guns with Jamie again, to be near Ben again, to hear his voice, to be close to him, to share everything with him.

What scared you even more than remembering the Fissure of Sorrow, was upsetting Ben, losing his trust, becoming strangers.

“I…” You sniffled, your nose accommodating the wetness of your eyes.

Ben’s hand that wasn’t behind his head slid underneath the blankets until it found your hand, enclosing it within an iron grip. “Don’t cry.” It wasn’t an order. He never demanded anything from you. It was a reassurance. You didn’t need to cry because everything was okay. Everything will always be okay.

Relief rushed over you, forcing a small laugh out of your mouth. Even just small gestures like holding your hand eased your worries. You didn’t feel like everything was closing in on you. It grounded you to the present, the unyielding now. It gave you the strength and confidence to continue.

“The super mutants in Fort Daggerpoint, they’re in a cult. The Father wanted me because I have a parasite inside me. If I come into contact with FEV, I will become the perfect super mutant, capable of becoming the progenitor of new generation of super mutants. I escaped before their plans were fully realized.” You felt years pass, the words slowly coming out of your mouth, your whispers permeating the air. But you felt lighter.

The silence stretched on for a while, your hand clutching Ben’s as hard as he was clutching yours. “They will have to go through us if they want you.”

---

Continuing to support the NCR felt like the worst decision you had ever made. They tried to sell you out to prevent the super mutant uprising in the valley, but here you were and nobody could leave Union City without running into a patrol of super mutants and bellringers. They couldn’t ignore it anymore but above everyone else living in this valley, they were the only ones who could possibly stop the threat.

So you nodded in silence as General Silverman blabbered on about killing the raider king, wondering if he was really any better than that slave-loving bastard. Wondering if he would make the same mistake twice.

---

You all snuck in together with the help of Wilco Wilson. But you were the one who slipped into the mines, found Juan Maxon-Elsdragon, and let your plasma pistol do the talking. You didn’t let him say anything, you didn’t let anyone around him say anything. It was get in, get out. No heroic speeches about comeuppance, about getting what he deserved for all the people he tortured. As the life left his eyes, as you cradled a bullet wound on your arm from one of his bodyguards, you wondered briefly if it would really end here. His daughter would have something to say about her father’s death. But your thoughts stopped there. The NCR could deal with the fallout of their actions.

As you jumped back into Wilco’s wagon, you sat next to Jamie. You stared in front of you, letting her look at your wound, asking Eric for a bandage or a stimpak, Kira waving her hand in front of your face, asking how it went. You just nodded, a fake smile trying to work its way onto your face. “It went fine.”

Your eyes flashed over to Ben who stared openly at you, a mixture of concern and frustration flashing through his eyes.

#fallout imagines #fallout fan fiction #fallout: new vegas fan fiction #fallout reader inserts #fallout: new california fan fiction #Fallout: New California #nonopi new fics #nonopi take me home

[sinnobuns]

Dangerous (Taehyung/Reader)

Author: Admin Guki Pairing: Kim Taehyung x female reader Words: 2.2k Warnings: Pegging, oral, mild dirty talk Prompt: "OOooo can we get a fic pegging Taehyung from BTS for the first time? It's my biggest dream TT_TT"

“C-can I choke you?”

You never imagined that four little words could change your sex life so drastically. The first time you asked Taehyung if you could choke him, you were terrified that his eyes were going to pop right out of his head. Instead, he nodded timidly and and looked almost too excited. You had no idea that he would enjoy it so much, nor did you expect to cum so hard to the sound of him whimpering beneath you. Those four simple words brought you here just two short months later - looking for a strap on dildo in a sex store two hours outside of town.

“I still don’t understand why we had to leave town for this…” you nudged him with your shoulder. “Because,” he laughed awkwardly, “What if my friends are just as freaky as us and we bump into them? How would we explain ourselves?” “I’d hardly call us freaky.” He sighed a bit too dramatically. “Babe, just... stop. Help me.” You chuckled to yourself. Help how?

You brushed your fingertips across a row of dildos hanging proudly on display and they swayed back and forth. You guys had no idea what you were doing and you hadn’t even heard of pegging until Taehyung asked you about it. Well, you knew what it was technically, you just weren't aware that it had a name. Your train of thought was subtly wrecked by Taehyung’s voice. “What about this one?” “Tae, I don’t mean to be brash but - it’s your ass.” You smiled upon seeing him blush. “If you think that one is going to be perfect, then it’s going to be perfect.” You could tell he was nervous by the way he chewed at the inside of his lip. You grabbed his hand and gave it a firm squeeze and the moment his eyes locked with yours you gave him a confident smile. It wasn’t like this was going to be the first time Taehyung had a toy in his ass. You were both experienced in the department so you couldn’t completely comprehend what he was so nervous about. “Are you okay, baby?” “I don't know. Yeah - no, I don't know.” He frowned and you gave his hand another squeeze of encouragement. “It just feels like this is a big deal. I get that it’s basically stuff we’ve done before, but I realized you’re literally going to have complete control over me.” You tried not to laugh but still snorted. “Taehyungie, I always have complete control over you. You’re beyond what they call submissive, babe.” “I’m just nervous, I guess.” He finally admitted with a sigh. “I mean, I’m really excited, but I’m really nervous too.” “We can take it slow, babe. We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

You set everything out on the bed. A bottle of lube and the strap on with a sleek, black, silicone dildo that Taehyung had picked out. You could tell he was still nervous and you suggested the two of you take a shower and relax. It seemed to help until you were standing naked in your room staring at the contents of what you bought the day before. “How do you feel baby?” Taehyung nodded excitedly, but sighed. “I’m worried you won't enjoy this.” “I love pleasing you.” You kissed his neck and pulled him closer. “I enjoy the sweet little sounds you're going to make because of me. Trust me, I’ll enjoy it.” Taehyung kissed you a bit too roughly - too needy. You were caught off guard at first, but melted into the kiss quickly. His tongue pressed against yours and you pulled him down on top of you. You dragged your nails down his bare back and he hissed, biting your lip as he pulled away. He kissed down your torso and made his way between your legs. He loved going down on you and you vaguely remembered at the tip of your mind an article the two of you had read explaining how lots of foreplay makes for a more relaxed pegging experience, so you didn't protest. Instead, you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. He ran his tongue from your ass to your clit. His eyes locked on yours as he sucked your clit into his mouth drawing a soft moan from your lungs before repeating the cycle again. Your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged at the tufts, rocking your hips against his face. He pressed his tongue into you roughly and his nose was brushing against your clit. He was making the utmost vulgar sounds and his fingertips were pressing painfully into your thighs. “Fuck, Tae!” You squeaked. His eyes locked on yours again and you felt him smile against your labia for a split moment before delving into your arousal once again. You were so close to your orgasm already and you knew he could tell because he started sucking harshly on your clit knowing that that always pushed you over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head and with one last moan of his name you felt the coil in the pit if your stomach snap - spiraling you into your orgasm. “Oh, oh my god,” you tugged at his hair and tried to steady your breathing as he kissed his way back up your stomach. “I don't know about you,” he pecked your lips as he paused. “But I am definitely relaxed.” You giggled and licked across his jaw humming as you tasted the remnants of your orgasm on his skin. Taehyung sighed and you both glanced over towards the stuff still lying haphazardly on the bed. “Can I put it on you?” You nodded happily, all too excited to finally get down to business. Taehyung left you with one last quick kiss and jumped off the bed with the strap in hand. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He kissed your calf as he slid the waist strap followed by the thigh straps up your legs. You lifted your ass to help him get the straps up to your hips and resting properly against your pelvis. Taehyung laughed as he adjusted the straps on your hips. “You look better with a dick than I do.” You burst out laughing and stood up on the bed so you could thrust your hips and get a feel for the motions you’d be using. Taehyung doubled over in laughter and you attempted to roll your hips around to swing the dildo in a helicopter motion. “What’s so funny?!” you choked out. “This is what you look like every single day! What do you call this again? The Hellicockter?!” The two of you were lost in a fit of laughter until Taehyung swiped your feet out from under you sending you tumbling down on the bed. He climbed on top of you and pinned your arms above your head. “Stop teasing me.” He smirked and brushed his nose against yours. You smiled and tried to kiss him but he lifted his head just enough to dodge you. You sighed in defeat as he ghosted his lips across yours but still wouldn't kiss you - until you whispered right against his lips. “Let me fuck you, Tae.” You took your time as you prepped him, making sure he was relaxed and comfortable. Soft whimpers passed his lips as your fingers slipped in and out of the tight ring of muscle and you were thankful that you guys decided on the more expensive lubricant making for an easy and pleasurable stretch. He rocked on hands and knees into your fingers as you pressed gently against his prostate. He was already a writhing mess beneath you but you cautiously pressed a third finger inside of him and watched as chills crawled up his back as his upper body melted into the mattress. “Oh fuck,” he whined. “Babe…” “Are you ready, Tae?” You cooed, running your left hand soothingly up his back and back down again. He nodded, wiggled slightly to get comfortable with his face pressed against the sheets, and continued rocking back against your fingers until you pulled them from him. He watched over his shoulder as you rubbed the dildo down with a generous amount of lube before you lined it up with his hole and slowly pressed into him. “Is this okay, baby?” He moaned and arched his back while sputtering a broken ‘yes just like that’ and moving his ass in slow circles. You waited for him to adjust himself to the girth of the dildo. He rocked slowly into you, fucking himself against your strap on. You bit at your lip trying desperately not to think about the way your own arousal was dripping down your thighs already. The sight of Taehyung becoming a whimpering mess in front of you - because of you - had your clit throbbing and desperate to be touched again. “Babe.” Taehyung whined, his voice snapping you out of your small daze. “Fuck me. Please…” You smirked and at a steady pace began rocking your hips into him. You took your time as you pulled out and slid back in - getting a feel for the motions. Your nails dug hastily into his hips and you admired his lust-stricken face. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth hung open just enough to let beautiful moans slip past his lips, and occasionally his teeth pressed into his bottom lip as he whined. You tightened your grip on his hips as you quickened your thrusts and his knuckles began turning white as he gripped at the sheets. You smiled and let out a grunt of encouragement. “Such a good boy, baby.” You moaned. “Fuck, you look so good letting me fuck you like this.” Taehyung buried his face into the bed as a strangled moan ripped through him. It only fueled you to thrust harder and faster causing the bed frame to smack loudly against the wall. His legs were shaking and even with his face down in the sheets he was still being so loud. The entire scene was intoxicating. “Do you want to cum for me, Tae?” You watched, mesmerized, as he moved his hand underneath himself to squeeze his throbbing cock. You hadn't even thought about the fact that he was near cumming untouched. A smile tugged at your lips and you grabbed his forearm to pull his hand away from his painfully erect length. “Don't touch yourself.” You commanded. “Be a good boy and tell me how good I fuck you.” The moan that came from him drove chills down your stomach straight to your aching clit. You felt your walls once again clenching against nothing as you thrust into him with much more force than before. “Sh- I - Fuck!” He stammered through his whimpering. “You fuck me s-so good, babe. Oh fuck, just l-like that!” “Can you roll over?” An idea suddenly hit you. You wanted to see his face while he came all over himself. While he came for you. Because of you. He nodded, and you slipped out of him just long enough for him to lay on his back and position yourself against his ass once again to press slowly inside of him. He looked so fucked out; his bangs stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. With each gasp and moan his stomach tightened and his cock twitched. He was already dripping so much cum against his stomach. It pooled perfectly beneath his belly button and your only thought was how desperately you wanted to lick up the mess you’d made of him. Taehyung’s thighs began to quiver in your hands and he desperately tried to speak some type of warning that he was coming undone, but all that fell from his mouth was a slew of broken curse words and throaty moans. You slammed your hips against his with as much force as you could muster in four quick thrusts and watch him squirm as he shot cum all the way up to his chest. You were wide eyed and in shock at how hard he came and especially how much. You stilled inside of him, waiting for him to speak or breathe properly, but neither happened until you pulled the dildo out of him and plopped down on the bed next to him. You smiled as you watched him trembled and bite his lip, still living in his orgasm. You ran your finger through the string of cum splattered beautifully across his body and sucked your finger clean of the mess. “Are you okay?” You asked, trying not to giggle. “You came so much…” Taehyung laughed and finally opened his eyes to look at you. You smiled, running your finger through the mess on his chest this time and he sighed. “You are fucking dangerous.” You cackled and licked your finger once again before he pulled you on top of him- making a mess of both of you and you squealed even though you never really cared about being sticky with his cum before. He kissed you until he was out of breath again. “You're dangerous, and I am fucking obsessed with you.”

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