#definitely excited to listen to through the deep dark valley now to see what other self-titled ep motifs I catch :)

[soapcan18]

No because I was so caught of guard?? when I listened to Lay Me Down for the first time?? and was like lmao Second Child Restless Child instrumental and then?? THEY USED THE SAME LYRICS?? LIKE HUH HOW LONG HAVE I GONE WITHOUT KNOWING THIS??

#THOSE SONGS R HELLA CONNECTED IT CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD #definitely excited to listen to through the deep dark valley now to see what other self-titled ep motifs I catch :) #the oh hellos #ttddv #oh hellos #through the deep dark valley #the oh hellos ep #lay me down #second child restless child

[taechaos]

New Idea

pairing: Step-brother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

warnings: non-con, bondage, pseudo-incest, sadism, smut, mentions of killing

synopsis: You wished to hang out with your brother Taehyung when he wasn't home, only to realize he was better off staying away.

word count: 3.2k

It was late at night. Rain flooded outside, drops trickled down your window and puddles formed on the roads as they reflected the neon lit storefront signs beautifully. The tears from the clouds splashed against the cement loudly, and you watched the empty streets in boredom. With your cheek leaning on your palm, elbow propped up on the round wooden table across your window, you miserably yearned to feel some sort of sugar rush with a deep frown on your face. Things have been mundane, repeating the same old routines as days quickly went by. You wondered what Taehyung had been up to in the time that he’d been gone. You knew he could resolve your boredom instantly had he been right beside you.

Taehyung – your step-brother who was the embodiment of adrenaline, and was most likely awake with you right now. The man never slept, always staying up at night brainstorming ideas for what to do during the day that was no doubt just as exciting as the day before. Bags adorned his eyes that somehow fit his wild persona that never needed asking for permission to do things that were illegal most of the time. It was especially daring when having strict parents, and the only reason he wasn’t locked up in a mental institution was because he was the pride of your family with excelling grades in college that he rarely ever attended. They never approved of anything he’d done, especially not the teal hair he was currently rocking. You on the other hand, looked up to him as a role model.

What you’d do to see him right now. Sometimes he tagged you along with his adventures, such as exploring abandoned buildings and getting matching tattoos on your forearms that he chose. Despite the rebellious acts he put you through, he always defended you against your parents and got away with everything with a light scolding from his smooth tongue. Admiration wouldn’t begin to describe the amount of respect you had for him, though he was rarely ever around. Unbeknownst to you however, he never failed to go a day without pecking your cheek while you were unconscious. 

He was everything you aspired to be: a carefree soul with a creative mind and a heart filled with exhilaration. The only thing he hadn’t done was probably murder. It was a shame that absence made the heart grow fonder, because throughout the time you’d known him since your early teens, he hadn’t changed one bit with his disappearances that could go on for days. 

Taehyung never changed.

Was this what they called depression? Feeling numb and hating your life for how ordinary it was? You didn’t know, but what you knew was that you really needed Taehyung right now. It was 3AM and your parents were sound asleep in the apartment while you moped over how much you missed your step-brother’s presence. Not a single moment was dull with him, while you were too much of a coward to go through with any of your desires.

And as if your prayers were answered, a pound came on the door. The loud knock instantly gave away the person behind the door; Taehyung, who never cared for how loud he was unless he was on a stealthy mission.

Your heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and the silhouette of your step-brother entered before it was slammed shut with a lock. “You’re awake?” he asked in a whisper without moving an inch when he noticed your seated form.

“Can’t sleep,” you breathed, unable to hide the joy you felt upon seeing him in your tone. He couldn’t have picked a better time to visit you.

“Why not?” he walked over to you before kneeling. There was a smile on his face that matched yours, instantly giving away he came to your room with purpose. It was expected, for he never approached you if not to tell you about one of his newer ideas. 

“Was bored.”

“So was I,” a mischievous smirk graced his face. The street lights outside illuminated his messy hair that your hand itched to ruffle. “But I found us a solution.”

Your eyes gleamed with hope, your grin never faltering. “Tell me,” you impatiently urged, your knees already bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’ll give you a hint: we’ll both be having fun. But you need to listen to me,” he cautioned with a raised finger. You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he needed you to do. “Okay, stand up.”

You obeyed him and only then noticed the bag slung over his shoulder once you stood before him. “Let me do all the work, yeah? You just stand still.”

“I really want to know what it is,” you whined and bounced on your feet. 

Taehyung held onto your tits that bounced with you and you quietly gasped. “Better not be acting like this with anyone other than me. Naughty,” he scolded before unzipping his small pouch. 

“I don’t go out without a bra,” you rolled your eyes playfully. Taehyung was notorious for doing and saying things without a filter, uncaring of the effect it had on others. This was simply him looking after you without any boundaries, because he never set any with you.

He pulled out a duct tape from the mystery bag. “Turn around and hold your hands behind you.” You complied without protest, the ripping of a duct tape resounding in the room as he tore it with his teeth. He taped your wrists together like cuffs before facing you again by the pull of your shoulder. 

Confusion washed over you, but not a trace of fear. “What’s this about?”

“Now go lie down,” he ignored you and nodded at your bed. You sat on the center, your sheets already rumpled from all the tossing and turning you’d done in an attempt to sleep. His figure loomed over you and your heart raced in anticipation. “Don’t move, okay?”

You silently watched him with piqued curiosity as he pushed you down. The soft mattress dipped under your weight and you didn’t move a muscle until you felt him tug at your flannel pajama pants. “Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” he ignored you again and you furrowed your brows as he undressed you. “You’re going to like it.”

Without a single clue of his intentions, you expected him to change your pants after he took them off, but definitely didn’t expect him to aim at your panties next. The second he held onto the hems, you crawled away from him and repeated more firmly, “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

He yanked you back to him by your ankles. “Don’t you trust me? You said you’d listen to me.” 

“I don’t think I want to do this,” you strained and tried to pull your knees to your chest, but he tightened his grip on your ankles.

“It’ll be fun, just sit still,” he spoke airily, his tone unbothered compared to your worried one. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Once you felt somewhat reassured, you relaxed your legs and lied back down. The discomfort swallowed you whole when he undressed your bottom half completely. The chilly air hit your bare legs and left goosebumps in its wake.

“You shouldn’t be shy about being naked with me,” he chuckled and tapped your pussy carelessly. You yelped and bent your knees again. 

“Taehyung, this isn’t right,” you stressed and clenched your thighs together. You were growing wary about this ‘idea’ and you weren’t sure whether his pupils were dilated because of the dark anymore. He could be high. “Let’s try something else, please.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he scoffed and spread your thighs apart, hovering over your loins. “You’re going to love this, just calm it.” He grabbed the duct tape again and tore off a smaller piece before placing it on your mouth, making your efforts of leaning away fruitless. Your voice was muffled behind the sticky tape as you shook your head. “Don’t make me tape your legs too,” he warned as you tried pushing him away. He sat on your knees as he began unzipping his washed denim jeans, ignoring your babbling.

“Been watching a lot of porn lately,” he began casually as tears brimmed in your eyes. “I usually find it boring, but I came across a video that I couldn’t resist reenacting. Plus you were bored too,” he defended, “it’d be mean if I spared my little sister of this fun.” 

You didn’t know whether he was joking or not, but you were ready to start crying if he was actually doing what you were thinking. You sighed in relief when he reached for his pouch for a pair of scissors. It had to be a joke then–

Taehyung began cutting your shirt from the middle, and you whimpered when your tits were on full display. Your nipples hardened as a result of the exposure, and tears immediately began streaming down your face mixed with muffled sobs.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he exclaimed, “we’re not related by blood. It should be fine.”

When you continued crying, he said, “I’ll take off my shirt too, if it helps.” He heaved his t-shirt over his head, his firm chest hard to make out in the midnight dark. “I was thinking kissing would ease you into it, but only if you’re quiet.” Your cries grew louder instead. He sighed exasperatedly, “You can be such a crybaby sometimes.”

He started leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, and you whimpered at the feeling. You were ticklish and though you were completely terrified, the kisses were a bit soothing. “This is me being nice to you, because oh boy, that guy in the video was a fucking monster,” he laughed while going down the valley between your breasts. A finger flicked your nipple while his other hand rubbed over your folds. “Want me to eat you out first? You’re not wet enough.”

You shook your head in refusal, so he merely shrugged and began circling your clit instead, his fingers now pinching your nipple. His mouth latched onto your other nipple and he swirled his tongue around the areola, clashing pleasure with pain. The rain drowned out your involuntary moans but Taehyung caught them anyway; it wasn’t hard to miss when your arousal began coating his hand. He released your nipple with a pop and locked eyes with you. “You’re enjoying this? Not gonna lie, I was expecting you to cry longer but... you're a little slutty, aren't you?” He slapped your pussy experimentally and smiled when you moaned loudly. “Keep this up and I might just take off the tape.”

For a moment, he wondered if this was why people enjoyed sex so much; your moans were like music to his ears and your body was making his cock throb even more. He could really get used to this, he thought as he slapped your pussy over and over, the sound echoing in the room along with your high-pitched whines.

“Shit, I need to record this,” he mumbled before reaching for his phone on his back pocket. Your protests went to deaf ears as he began recording your pussy and spanked it, the microphone picking up all your sounds of pleasure. Once it reached the one-minute mark, he threw his phone on your pillow and took out his erect length from its restraints, giving it a few pumps as the tip oozed with pre-cum. “I never thought fucking you would be this easy. Thought about it every time I touched myself.”

You went quiet at the revelation and he smirked at your raised brows. “Why are you surprised? Whenever I’m home, you come hug me with your bare tits pressed up against me. Not that I’m complaining of course,” he chuckled hotly. “Want me to kiss you now?”

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, he ripped the tape off of your mouth without mercy and your eyes teared up at the pain with an ouch. He didn’t waste a second in enveloping his lips with yours as he cupped your pussy, smearing his pre-cum on your labia. He swallowed your moans as his mouth moved vigorously, tongue meeting yours as he explored your cavern. The smacking of your lips caused you to clench your hole, the sound arousing to your ears as you kissed him back.

“You going to stay quiet for me?” he murmured against your lips, his cock poking at your hole teasingly. You hesitated but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl,” he praised with a grin and lightly pecked you before properly positioning himself.

The reason why Taehyung was so eager to have sex with you wasn’t just because he was horny, but also because really wanted it to be your pussy that he fucked first, and maybe second, and third. He was a virgin who watched too much porn when he wasn’t outside, and now that you were 18, he thought it to be the perfect timing for you to lose your virginity to him like he’d imagined when he was 15. 

Due to his experience, he didn’t ease into your pussy and instead shoved his cock entirely. You screamed and he instantly put a hand over your mouth. “Too much?” he asked with a strained voice. His cock was just begging to be thrusted into you, but he couldn’t have you screaming and waking your parents. When you nodded with eyes shut in pain, he groaned to himself. He was twitching inside you, and after a few seconds, he began moving.

You were crying and bitching again, but he paid no mind to it as he pressed his hand onto your mouth while gently slamming his hips into you, his courtesy for now. You'd adjust sooner or later, but the stretch was excruciating; your walls stung and you started to bleed on him.

"Oh fuck," he giggled sadistically once he noticed the crimson fluid, "that didn't happen in the video." He gazed into your glossy eyes before quickening his pace, growing rougher. "You're crying again; what's new?"

Taehyung was laughing as he was moaning, but you couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded and you were struggling to breathe through your nose as he fucked you relentlessly. 

“I kind of feel bad for you,” he panted with a sinister smile. “Does it still hurt?” He took your sobs as a yes. “Poor baby,” he cooed with a pout before moving his free hand to your clit. “This might help.” You were struggling with your bound hands, but you couldn’t move your legs because of how much it hurt. Your fighting was useless, and your body was growing numb except for the thumb that made it less painful.

Taehyung removed his hand from your mouth to hear your moans clearly. Whether it was from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know, but he loved it. He wanted to be the only one to see you in this state. He’d gauge out any eyes that got to see you naked and stab any ears that got to hear your pretty sounds.

But it was a little difficult to savour it when he was reaching his climax so soon; damn inexperience and the low stamina that came with. He had enough self-control to pull out of you to finish himself off with his hand. He missed the warmth and tightness of your pussy and how it kept clenching down on him quickly, but it had to come at a cost – not cumming inside you.

“You fucking monster!” you yelled hoarsely, eyes blurred with tears and face covered in tears.

“Too loud,” he sighed and forced your mouth open to shove his length inside. “Try anything, and I’ll fucking kill you.” His cock was heavy on your tongue as you gagged on it every time he thrusted. It wasn’t long before he released in your mouth and you choked, swallowing his cum without a choice. Another loud moan erupted from him as his hips stuttered while gently slamming into you for the last time.

“Fuck,” he exhaled before collapsing on you with his palms holding up to not smother you completely. “Shit, you’re such a good fucking girl.”

When he raised his face from your shoulder, you spat on him. He laughed hysterically before wiping off your saliva from his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, damn.”

“You’re the fucking worst Taehyung,” your voice wavered as you insulted him. “I hope you rot in hell. I always saw you as my role model, but now I understand why everyone fucking hates you.”

“Sheesh,” he snorted, “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? It might hurt now, but it’ll feel a lot better when we do it again.”

“If you try-” he cut you off by going down on you, taking his clit into your mouth and immediately emitting a moan out of you. “Stop, stop, stop,” you chanted in gasps, trapping his head with your thighs and contradicting your words. He chuckled against your swollen pussy, making it feel even better and yet worse. This euphoric sensation wasn’t what you needed after being traumatized by your own step-brother, but it was what your body wanted after getting a taste of his tongue. 

He was slurping up your juices and spitting on your folds before abusing your clit again. The bastard knew how to distract you from your newfound grudge, but you weren’t going to forgive him after your orgasm. Your hips moved against him on instinct as his tongue ran up and down your labia. A knot formed in your stomach, your tears long forgotten as you became more persistent in riding him in this awkward position. He heaved your thighs over his shoulder to take full control, and with his vigorous sucking and pulling, you came undone with a spasm.

“Feels good, right?” he asked rhetorically and fell limp next to you.

“I’ve never hated someone as much as you,” you seethed while recovering from your high.

“You’re going to tell me that wasn’t fun? No way,” he stared at you in disbelief.

“You hurt me,” you sniffled and covered your face.

"I'm sorry princess," the nickname felt foreign on his tongue as he held your arm. "I'll leave forever if you want me to."

He hummed when you stayed silent with a runny nose. "I'll clean you up and go, okay?"

"No," you huffed. "You become my slave for a whole month."

"You want me to stay home with you?"

You nodded while rubbing your eyes with your fists. "You can't do that and just leave, and I hate you but I miss you."

Taehyung resisted the urge to squeeze your cheek and coo. He knew you'd regret asking him to stay, but he wouldn't say no to spending time with you 24/7.

Chuckling through his nose, he said, "I miss you too." He traced the tattoo on your forearm, a minimalistic mockingbird with an arrow slicing through the middle. He picked it because it represented you; an innocent little thing who didn't even look down at her wound, only focused on flying back to Taehyung, a hawk that waited with open arms - ready for his meal.

If you wanted him to stay, then that's what Taehyung would do. You'd fallen for his trap twice, the third wouldn't be so bad. He'd make sure you enjoyed it this time.

#bts #kim taehyung #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kth #thekpopnetwork #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It’s the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I’m so excited to finally share it with you.

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) ||| Also posted at AO3

—-

Chapter 5: Danger

I was blind // One step from the edge // Spin round and round // Out of my head...

Soundtrack: “Danger,” Mötley Crüe, 1983 [click here to listen]

Dinner passed uneventfully. Claire picked at her spaghetti, lacking appetite, listening to the conversations unfurling around her:

“…yeah, I remember that one time my buddy and I were watching TV and one of those Just Say No commercials came on, and we laughed our asses off as we took bumps of coke…”

“…the bed sheets are way too scratchy. I’m trying to get my husband to send me a set from our house, but those goddamn counselors and their goddamn rules and phone time limits mean I haven’t told him yet…”

“…what kind of meat do you think is in this sauce? If it’s beef then I’m morally opposed to it…”

Most people had finished eating and were now getting up and moving around to other tables, sitting with friends, catching up after another day.

Quietly Claire stood and slipped out of the dining room and onto the spacious deck. Breathing deeply the fresh air.

Jamie was already leaning against the rail.

She sidled up alongside him. “Don’t feel like socializing?”

His fingers drummed on the wood. “Not today. This may sound funny, but I really don’t like crowds.”

“You seemed fine at Group this afternoon. That’s a crowd, right?”

He looked over – and down – at her. Christ, he was tall.

“When the attention’s all focused on me, I’m fine. I’m with other people, but I’m separate from them – whether that’s on a stage, or in my house, or on my tour bus. But to be in a room with a lot of other people…”

“Yeah. It’s not just the noise, either. It’s…you just want to get away from it. Process.”

He shared a small smile. “You understand.”

She nodded. “I do.”

Together they watched birds flit from treetop to treetop, and the setting sun glint off of a waterfall far away, deep down in the beautiful valley before them.

“You said that your therapist told you to be honest, right?”

He nodded.

The hum of conversation drifted through the open door.

“Why have you taken such an interest in me? You have your pick of any of the women here.”

He jerked, almost as if she’d hit him.

“What the hell are you insinuating?”

“You told me yourself – you’re a sex addict. I don’t know if that was your way of telling me – ”

“Do you seriously think I just want to get into your pants, Claire?” His nostrils flared – his cheeks flushed – his hands shook. “No,” he said, quite emphatically. “Christ, no. Definitely no.”

Agitated, he scrubbed his hair with his hands. “I won’t lie to you, Claire – you’re a beautiful woman, even with the dark circles under your eyes. Maybe six months ago I would have pulled you into my dressing room and had my way with you. But there’s a reason why I’m here. I can’t be that man anymore. The alcohol always brought it out in me.”

She closed her eyes, shame washing over her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Claire, hey.” Softly, softly he reached for her clammy, shaking hands. Squeezed them. “I don’t want to upset you. I know you’re still getting used to everything here. The last thing you need is me in your life.”

She took a deep breath. “What we talked about in Group today – about clarity? Well, I fucking finally have clarity now that the Halcions are out of my system. I’m feeling for the first time in two years. Feeling so fucking much. I’m angry at Frank and I’m angry at my friend Joe and I’m angry at the pharmacist who had to know what was going on when he filled the prescriptions. And I’m so. Fucking Angry. At myself!”

She yanked her arms from his grip. Eyes wild.

“Fuck! How did it get to be so bad? How did I get here?”

“At least you’re here, Claire.” Jamie’s voice was quiet, calm. “It could be a lot worse.”

Tears wet the corners of her eyes. “You mean, I could be fucking dead?”

He nodded. “This is your second chance. Grab onto it.”

She completely deflated.

Slowly, slowly he gathered her into his arms. Tucked her head beneath his chin as she cried.

“Shh. It’s all right.” He ran a gentle hand up and down her back. “Trust me. It’s all right. I sobbed like a little kid every day for the first two weeks I was here.”

She inhaled deeply. A hurricane of emotion.

“I’m such a fuck-up,” she hiccupped.

“You’re not. You care about your own healing. Others care, too – that’s why you’re here. Right?”

She nodded.

He was silent for a long while. “There is a reason, Claire, why I – why I’m drawn to you. But I won’t tell you now, not when you’re so exhausted.”

She sniffed. Swallowed. Straightened in the circle of his arms.

It was almost dark, but she could see his eyes clearly.

Gently he brushed a curl away from her forehead. “Come on. I think we have chocolate pudding for dessert tonight. Let me get you a bowl.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

[boyswillbeboxes-archive]

My Way Back to You chapter 2

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Maxvid

Words: 5120

“Where are we even going?” Max asked, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket as he ambled along next to David in the dark woods. Lights out had been almost an hour ago, but David had asked him to meet out here. There was a time he wouldn’t have done anything the older man asked of him, certainly without kicking up a fuss. Things were different now. This…thing between them was still new, still exciting, and even though they had to be secretive, had to sneak around for any hope of being together, it had become something Max cherished.

“You’ll see soon enough.” The trees blocked the light of the moon, so they only had David’s shitty flashlight to ensure they didn’t step into any of the Quartermaster’s traps. It was with some relief that Max realized David had intentionally slowed his gait to keep pace with Max since, even after hitting his growth spurt last year, he was nowhere near the older man’s height.

Max could only barely make out David’s expression in the dark, so he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. They’d snuck out before, stole moments together while the others were busy elsewhere. But they usually stuck around camp for the most part. Hiking up, up, up into the hills surrounding the area seemed a bit risky.

But Max trusted David. So he continued to follow.

A rustling in the bushes had Max freezing, grabbing for David instinctually. The older man’s fingers laced through his as he swung the light around to face the rustling. A fox shot out from the bushes and scampered along down the path, disappearing in seconds in the inky black underbrush. David breathed a sigh of relief.

“Boy, that was scary!” Max could hear the grin in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it. “Come on, let’s go.” They began to walk again, Max noting that David hadn’t disentangled their fingers. He was glad for the darkness hiding the heat in his cheeks when the older man’s thumb brushed against his.

Eventually they reached a sort of plateau, an outcropping that gave a fantastic view of the valley below. David helped Max onto it, steadying him so he didn’t fall, then hopped up next to him to sit on the little shelf of rock.

“I come out here sometimes when I can’t sleep,” he explained. “It’s peaceful. Quiet. And you can see the stars really well too!” David clicked off the flashlight and slipped it into his pocket.

Max kicked his feet a little, definitely not sulking that David had dropped his hand. “We can see the stars at camp. There’s stars everywhere.”

David chuckled. “Well, yes, but…” He smiled over at Max, the moonlight making his face glow. “Before I came to Camp Campbell, I’d never known how many stars there were. I lived in a city with a lot of light pollution, and I just figured that’s what everywhere looked like.” He settled back on the rock, then opened his arm in silent invitation. He looked…nervous. It was gratifying to know David was as affected by this as Max was. He carefully scooted over, feeling the warmth of David’s arm over him as he pulled him close. Where his head rested on his chest, Max felt the older man’s heart beat just a bit faster.

Max closed his eyes and listened for a moment, a sense of peace washing over him. It was broken when David gasped and shook him. “Max, look! A shooting star!” He opened his eyes just in time to see it streak across the sky, then vanish just as quickly. “Make a wish!”

Max snorted. “You believe in that shit?”

“Well, sure.” Max didn’t need to look at his face to know David was sporting that cute pout he always wore whenever he was teased. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wished on a shooting star before.”

“Alright, I won’t tell you.” He chuckled at the little whine in David’s voice, and snuggled closer, letting his eyes slide shut again. He could feel sleepiness creeping in, David’s heartbeat the sweetest lullaby he’d ever heard. He’d even started to doze when David’s voice startled him awake, the rumbling through his chest seeming to seep into Max’s bones.

“Just look at all of them.” David’s voice was low and awed, his smile unusually serene and peaceful. “Isn’t it beautiful, Max?”

Max’s gaze fell on David’s jaw, the sloping curve of it leading up to cheeks dusted with the barest hint of freckles, up to his eyes which were so wide and reflecting the stars as well as Lake Lilac on a still night. He was in awe, then, for just a moment, before he tore his eyes away, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking just a bit on the single syllable. “Most…beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

--

“Hey, buddy, you can’t sleep here. Come on, wake up.” Max growled low in his throat as he cracked one eyelid open. Tyler the barista stood over him, looking vaguely annoyed that he’d actually had to speak to someone. Max could relate.

“Just fuckin…shut my eyes for two minutes,” he grumbled, dragging a hand down his face and straightening up. His back popped as he stretched.

“Dude, you’ve been over here for like four hours.” To his credit, Tyler didn’t look like he cared much, but the place had started to fill up with more people, and an older woman with a steely gaze was staring him down from behind the counter. “You gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Max stumbled a bit as he got out of the booth, still groggy. “’M goin’…” He strapped on his backpack and duffle, and took a moment to flip the woman behind the counter the bird before he stepped out into the bright light of early morning.

“Ugh.” He brought up a hand to shield his eyes. “Fucking sun…I’ll destroy you one day, you bright piece of shit.” He glanced down at his phone’s clock and sighed. 8:42. Still a while yet before he had to meet that weirdo. Well, that was fine, since his mournfully growling stomach was reminding him painfully how he hadn’t eaten since early yesterday. He walked aimlessly until he spotted the golden arches of a McDonald’s. Their coffee wasn’t as good, but he still ordered one, along with half a dozen hashbrowns and a biscuit.

He sat down in a windowed booth with his meal and pulled out his phone. Nothing on socials. Definitely nothing from his parents. That was fine as far as he was concerned. If he never heard from either of them again he’d consider it a life well lived.

With nothing better to do, he opened his image folder and scrolled to the private one down near the bottom. He tapped out the password and opened it, smiling faintly at the dozen or so photos inside. He’d almost lost these, had backed them up to a million different places online to make sure his parents couldn’t get rid of them, and had carried them on every device he’d ever owned for the last five years.

They were all of him and David, most of them from camp. David had taken them and sent them to Max over the time they’d been together but had to be apart. Some of them were from before, just quick candid shots where Max did his best to act like he didn’t even want to be in the same room as David. The last few, though…those were the special ones. David holding him close. David kissing him on the cheek. Max sitting in David’s lap.

It was hard to look at these ones. They were the ones that had ruined everything. But…he couldn’t make himself delete them. He gritted his teeth as he stared down at one with David kissing his temple. He should have been more careful. He knew he should have been. But his parents had never cared what he did before. He’d gotten sloppy, left his messenger open and…

They saw.

And suddenly Max was back there, with all the yelling, the questions, finding out David had been arrested while he begged and pleaded with his parents not to do this. He’d refused, every step of the way, to participate in the trial. He hadn’t given a statement, refused to testify against David on the stand, made the whole process as difficult for them as possible, to the frustration of his parents’ lawyer.

It had all paid off when the lawyer got sloppy, tried to forge his statement himself, and Max made sure he got caught. Not guilty on a technicality was still not guilty. It kept David out of jail, at least. The last time Max had seen him, he was being led out of a courtroom, his face haggard and drawn. He’d still managed a smile for Max, though. The last smile he’d ever seen.

After that, his parents wouldn’t let him return to Camp Campbell. They checked everything: his phone, his socials, even his room in case he was hiding some secret correspondence or something. Of course there was nothing. When they backed off a little he tried to look David up, tried to contact him. But of course they’d deleted his number in Max’s phone, and either David didn’t have social media or he had done a damn good job of hiding his identity.

So that was that. Only, it wasn’t, because Max hadn’t given up. He knew so long as he was a kid, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Emancipation was a bitch and a half, and even if he managed it, David would just end up in trouble again. So his only option was to wait, for five very long years, biding his time until they could finally reunite.

He’d only taken a few bites of the rock-hard biscuit and eaten maybe two hashbrowns, but he found himself pushing his food away at the flip of anxiety in his stomach. Of course he wanted to see David again. It’s all he’d been thinking about for years. While his peers had dated people their own age, he’d been so singularly focused on that goal that even if anyone had been interested he wouldn’t have cared.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous, though.

Finding the little shop turned out to be way more annoying than he’d thought. It was shoved between two other shops, set back a ways into the wall, with a peeling sign that was practically unreadable. Max passed it twice before he finally found it. He pushed open the grimy door and wrinkled his nose at the absolute mess inside. Yeah, this was definitely a front for some shady business, and not a very good front at that.

“Welcome, young man!” the man from this morning greeted him, his grin wide and showing off several missing teeth. He was addressing him as if they’d never met anymore, so Max responded in kind.

“Looking for a souvenir to take home to my mom,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets casually. “Got anything she might like?”

The man made a thoughtful face, then clapped Max on the shoulder. He fought the urge to either shove him off or bite him, feeling his whole body twitch with the effort. This man was being way too familiar, and ride or no ride, if he kept touching him, Max was going to end him.

“I have a few items a discerning gentleman like yourself would be happy to give to a loved one,” the man said, beaming. He didn’t know how close he was to certain doom, then. “Please, follow me.”

Max trailed behind him around the shop, thankfully without the presence of that hand on his shoulder, as the older man picked out items seemingly at random. If this was meant to put on a show, it was a lousy one, but he took the four items offered to him and followed the owner up to the counter.

When the man told him the total, Max shot him a murderous gaze. He had to pay for this shit? For a moment, he considered protesting, throwing the items to the ground and storming out. But only for a moment. He reached into his pocket and carefully withdrew the amount he needed, trying to hide just how much he actually had from the man’s beady eyes.

“I better get this back later,” Max growled through gritted teeth. The man didn’t respond, but his smile widened ever so slightly. When he handed back the change, there was a slip of paper tucked in between the bills. Max slipped the whole bundle into his pocket, gathered up his bag of absolute junk, and left to fulfill this weirdo’s task.

The slip of paper contained instructions on where to take each item, whose hands to put it in. He didn’t need to collect any money, since they’d paid in advance, just get the item to them, then get out of there. Under no circumstances should he linger in one place for too long.

Glancing over his shoulder, Max could see why. He was being tailed. Plainclothes cop, but sloppy. From the corner of his eye, he could see the bulge just under his shirt from where his gun was holstered. And his eyes were fixed on Max. He took a deep breath and kept walking, keeping his gait slow and relaxed. No big deal. He’d just have to ditch him.

Max ducked into a clothing store as he passed, casually wandering among the racks. He could see the cop near the entrance, acting interested in the collared shirts, but glancing up toward Max every few seconds. Amateur. Watch how a real pro does it, he thought.

He pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and studied it, making sure the cop saw him. Then he grabbed a random article of clothing (some denim shorts, it turned out. Gross) and made his way into the fitting room.

Now the clock was ticking. Max took the duffle and the backpack off and began switching out the items in the shopping bag for random items from his own bags. It was risky, but that creepy dude had been right about one thing: Max was willing to do whatever it took to get where he had to go. Even if he lost everything to do it.

The items he’d purchased from the knick-knack shop were small, easily slipped into a pocket or hidden in his waistband under his hoodie. Once he had them secure, he left the changing room, leaving his backpack and duffle behind, with the shopping bag peeking out enticingly.

Max breezed toward the exit, watching the cop out of the corner of his eye. Come on, he thought, You know you want to. The cop hesitated, shifting his gaze between Max and the bags left behind in the changing room. Just when Max was about to mourn the futile loss of all his clothes and try to make a run for it, the cop began moving toward the changing room, taking his eyes off Max entirely.

Internally, he cheered, the brilliance of his own mind astounding him as he slipped out the door and to freedom. He ran a few blocks, taking random turns and using back alleys to make sure nobody else was tailing him. It seemed like he was in the clear, so he slowed down and took a deep breath, trying to get his bearings.

So, bad news: he no longer had any clothes, or any of the meager possessions he’d brought from home. Good news: he still had his money, his phone and charger, and the clothes on his back, all while giving some meathead pig the slip. So, all things considered…could have been worse.

He remembered the creepy dude’s advice about lingering in one place too long. Giving one cop the runaround didn’t mean he was in the clear yet. So he began to walk, keeping his eyes sharp for any signs of being followed, sticking close to walls and alleyways when he could manage it.

When all was said and done, Max had thought pushing drugs would be a much more exciting time. As it was, he didn’t encounter a single other cop who looked at him twice, and somehow managed to find four people in a huge city based on some vague directions. It took him the better part of the afternoon, of course, but by the time he was done, there was still plenty of daylight left, and a promise to deliver on.

The shutters on the front of the store were down when Max returned, so he went around the back alley and banged on the door there. After a few minutes, the creepy owner opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Oh, kid! You’re back!”

“Sure am.” Max yanked the door open all the way and stalked inside. “And thanks to you, I lost all my shit. Had to drop it to throw off some cop who was tailing me.”

“Sorry, kid. That’s business.” The man gave a shrug which did not feel like an apology at all, and grinned toothily down at Max. “But ya did it, huh? I’m impressed. You got some real potential.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Max said flatly. “Now it’s your turn. Take me up to Sleepy Peak.”

“Aw, and here we were just getting acquainted.” The man spread his hands. “You and me, kid, we could make a good team. Ol’ Nestor and, uh…” He squinted. “What’s your name again?”

“I don’t give a shit, old man. We made a deal!” Max advanced on the older man, taking some satisfaction in the way he scrambled back. “Are you gonna deliver, or are we going to have a problem?”

“Hey, hey, I always keep my word,” Nestor said placatingly. “I just got a few things to take care of here, kid. Shouldn’t be…more than a few weeks.”

“What?!” Max reached out and grabbed the collar of the other man’s shirt, yanking him down so they were face to face. “Are you fucking with me, you pathetic waste of skin? I am not waiting here with you for weeks!”

Suddenly the man burst out laughing, seemingly unaffected by Max’s threatening hold. “Oh, kid…your face.” He wiped a tear from his eye and straightened up. “Yeah, I’m fucking with you. We can go now.” He grinned down at Max, a look on his face that seemed to resemble pride. “Pathetic waste of skin…that’s a good one. You got some real guts, kid.”

Max could feel his insides vibrating, every instinct insisting that he throw this man to the floor and kick him until he stopped moving. As Nestor moved to walk past him, he reached out to grab his arm with an iron grip.

“My money,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I want it. Now.”

“Your what? Oh!” The old man tapped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. “’Course, ‘course…here, that should be it.” He handed Max a wad of bills. It was a testament to how far he’d been pushed that Max didn’t even bother counting it, instead just stuffing it in his pocket and walking straight out the door.

Nestor’s shitty little blue car looked like it barely ran at all, held together only by the grace of whatever deity happened to be paying attention at the time. But, it was better than walking, so Max slipped into the passenger seat without too much complaint. The dude did have way too many fast food bags on the floor, though. When he scowled down at them, Nestor reached over and started shoveling them into the backseat.

“Sorry, sorry…don’t usually have company.” The older man grinned apologetically. Max just ignored him, turning his head toward the window in a pointed gesture. He just wanted to get through the next hour and a half without opening the car door and throwing himself out. For about fifteen minutes, he held onto that dream, really truly believing it might happen. Then Nestor had to open his big mouth and ruin everything.

“So…what’s a kid like you doing going up to Sleepy Peak anyway? Not exactly a tourist destination.”

Max gritted his teeth. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m 18.”

“Really?” The older man whistled low. “Listen, no offense, you’re just…ah, a little vertically challenged.”

“Oh, really? Wow, you’re the first person to ever tell me, thanks.” Max kept his tone frosty, pointedly refusing to engage, but he’d underestimated his opponent’s curiosity and lack of social boundaries.

“Okay, so you’re 18. Doesn’t explain why you’d wanna go to a dump like that.” He paused. “Unless you’re heading to that summer camp, but…I don’t think anyone’s there during the off season.”

“There’ll be someone there. There usually is.” Max pinned his hands between his knees, suddenly unsure. He always assumed David stayed at the camp during the off seasons to keep an eye on things, but maybe he was wrong. “Anyway, it’s none of your business why I want to go there, I just do.”

“’Course, if you’re going there, you know what kind of reputation that place has, yeah?” Nestor was completely ignoring him and barreling ahead. Max chose to just stay silent this time, let the old man talk himself out. “There was a big scandal some years back. Counselor got caught molesting kids.”

Max’s shoulders tensed, but he remained stubbornly silent. Of course other people would know about the trial. It was all over the news when it happened. It figured that the details would be all muddled and media speculation would turn into declaration of fact once people got their hands on it. There had never been any evidence of David touching any other kids. Because he never had. Hell, he’d barely touched Max, to his great 13-year-old frustration. The guy loved to play at chivalry, said they should wait to do anything sexual until Max was older. Max had disagreed, but once David made his mind up, there was no changing it.

“’Course, the guy got off with no charges,” Nestor continued. “Technicality. That shit prosecutor didn’t know what he was doing, fucked with the evidence…but everyone knows he was guilty. Sick fuck.”

Max could feel that rage coiling in his gut again. Nobody should be allowed to talk about David like that. Not a single person. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know the whole story, or that the media had sensationalized it. They shouldn’t be allowed to even think about him.

“Buncha parents got all up in arms about him still being at that camp, though. Think they ran him off. Or killed him.” Nestor laughed. “Maybe he killed himself, who knows. Nobody’s seen him since.”

A door opened up, and Max’s stomach fell clean through, leaving him feeling faint and light-headed. “How…” Max’s voice came out croaky. He swallowed and tried again. “How do you know he didn’t just move?”

“Oh, plenty of people kept their eye on him after the trial,” Nestor said. “If he’d moved towns, someone would have tracked him down. Nah, he just up and vanished. Weirdest thing.” The older man shrugged. “Good riddance either way, I say.”

Max couldn’t catch his breath. He pulled his hood up to cover his face and went back to staring at the window, trying to process all of that. He hadn’t considered the possibility that David might be… he couldn’t even think it. Wouldn’t believe it. He had to find out what had happened for himself.

Nestor made a few more token efforts at conversation, but when it became clear Max wasn’t listening at all, he just turned on the radio instead. Song after song blended together as Max stared outside, watching buildings become farmland become dense forest, with the teasing shine of a river just visible through the trees. It felt almost painfully nostalgic, like he’d been longing for this place, and had finally come home.

The sun was just starting to set when they pulled into town. It hadn’t changed even a little. Still the same old shops, the same old streets. Hell, even the same old dudes sitting on their porch in rocking chairs. It was like being 10 again. Like something out of a time machine. He half expected to pop into the electronics store and see Neil behind the counter.

“Hey, kid.” Max turned with a scowl. “You know, I meant what I said. About us being a team. If things don’t work out with what you’ve gotta do around here.” Nestor pulled a napkin out of his pocket and scribbled down a phone number, then handed it to Max. “If you ever need anything, let me know, okay?” The older man smiled, and it was the first truly genuine smile Max had seen on his face. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Max didn’t know what to say to that. He stared down at the napkin, at the awful chicken scratch he could barely read. After a moment’s hesitation, he stuffed it in his pocket.

“I’ll find it,” Max said. Then he turned on his heel and began to walk.

There was no need for Max to go anywhere else tonight. As much as he desperately just wanted to get there, it would be too dark to walk soon. He’d have to find a place in town to stay until tomorrow, and then start the long trek toward the camp.

His stomach growled mournfully. But first, food.

When he saw the lights of the pizza joint in the distance, Max couldn’t help the smile that lit his face. After David brought him here when he was 10, after that awful parent’s day, it had become a regular place for them. The pizza wasn’t exactly good, but it was edible, and the atmosphere was cozy compared to the rest of the town. He made a beeline for it, already looking forward to eating his body weight in hot grease.

Like the town, it was exactly as he remembered it. The peeling booths along the walls, framed pictures of Italy at regular intervals, fine layer of grease and grime covering every surface…oh, yeah, he’d really missed this place. He sat himself down in a booth with a grin, then froze when his eyes caught on the only other patron.

She wasn’t paying attention to him, scrolling on her phone with one hand as the other hand shoveled pizza into her mouth. She looked bored. Tired. Her hair was pixie cut and ears pierced all the way up the sides. Since it was cool outside, she wore jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, much plainer than he would expect from her.

Despite the differences, he’d recognize those violet eyes anywhere.

Max stood and slowly approached the table, watching her become aware of his presence and glance up in annoyance. “You got a problem, buddy?” she asked, eyes flashing. “If you’re here to tell me how you saw my beauty from across the room and just had to come and talk to me, save it. Not interested.”

“No?” Max couldn’t help the amused grin. “That’s too bad. I really thought there was a spark between us at camp, Gwen. Don’t tell me it was just me.”

The girl froze, squinting at him for just a moment before her eyes went wide.

“Max?” she whispered.

Max grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “In the flesh.” He was nearly bowled over when Gwen threw herself out of the booth and into a tight bear hug. He gasped for air. “Gwen. Please. Need to breathe…”

“You can breathe when I say you can breathe!” If anything, she squeezed him tighter. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Since…” She paused.

“Since…the trial,” Max finished with a sigh. “Yeah.” She pulled back to look at him and he scratched the back of his head. “I wanted to come back. But, uh…”

Gwen nodded. “Yeah. I get it.” She pushed him down into the booth, then sat across from him with a wide smile. “So, what are you doing here? You know the camp’s not open right now, right?”

“Yeah, I know. What are you doing here, then?” Max helped himself to a slice of her pizza, raising a curious eyebrow. “You still working up at that shitshow? I thought you’d have moved on by now.”

“Well, sort of.” Gwen shrugged. “I’m not a counselor anymore. I legally still own the place, so I’m just doing all the admin stuff I did as a counselor, but I’m paying myself way more.” She grinned. “I’m just here to oversee some maintenance. The cabins need some repairs before next summer.”

“Oh, yeah?” Max chewed on his pizza slowly, thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Is it…just you up there?”

“Yeah. My counselors are all home, so it’s just me.” She sighed in exasperation. “It’s a drag to be up here again, but what can ya do? I’m used to working from home, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

“Yeah…” Max felt his stomach twist as he stared down at the table. “What about…other people? There’s nobody?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “What, you mean like Campbell? Dude’s long gone. Once he passed off the ownership and got off parole, he disappeared. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care.”

Max sighed. She was really going to make him ask, wasn’t she? “Gwen. Where’s David?”

There was a long pause while Gwen stared down at the table, her arms tight across her chest. “He’s…well, that’s complicated, Max.”

“Complicated how?” Max leaned forward. “Just tell me. Is he at the camp? Is he…okay?” He had to know. Even if it hurt, he had to know what had happened.

Gwen sighed. “He’s not at camp,” she said. “After everything that happened, he…stepped down. Relinquished full ownership to me. He didn’t want his reputation to cause the camp to suffer.” She glanced away. “As for where he is now…I’m sorry, Max. I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” Max snapped. “Come on, Gwen, just…a phone number? An address? Something.” He swallowed. “He’s not…he’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“What? Of course he is.” Gwen gave him an incredulous look. “No, I’m sorry, but the reason I can’t tell you is…he asked me not to.”

There it was again, the door through which his stomach made a swift and sudden exit. Max’s mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed. “What…what does that mean?”

“It means…” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Max. He doesn’t want to see you.”

#accidentally makes chapter 2 twice as long as chapter 1 whoops #uhhhhhh enjoy! #maxvid #noahsstuff

[ficsnroses]

Motorcycle Sex - Keanu Reeves x Reader

summary : your boyfriend, keanu, shows you his brand new motorcycle...then fucks you on it. hard.

warnings : nsfw, smut. cum heheh. lots of fluff too though! x f! reader.

words : 3.1k

❧ Requested!

notes : well...here ya go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I know you didn’t ask for smut, wonderful anon friend, but my brain did it anyway. hope you enjoy! please consider leaving comments and feedback, means a ton. xox

“I think you’ll like this one,” an enthusiastic Keanu spills, excited mocha eyes ecstatic, a gentle hold to your hand as he leads you to the garage of your home. A new model of an Arch had been released today, the first piece of its kind reserved for the man behind copious of the creative process. “I really like this one.” He chuckles, the bulk of his hand placed to the small of your back as he allows you into the garage doors first, holding the door open.

The piece stands bold, black, colossal; sharp Michelin tires, a sheened glaze of shined fresh charcoal black paint, stood stout on its carbon wheels. Gasping, your thumb rubs a soothe to the palm of your boyfriend’s hand that holds yours, comforting the rougher skin. “Is that the one, Ke?” You shine, holding back a cheeky grin.

This; spark in his voice, passion of craft coursing inside his flowing blood was your happy place. Him; this way, would always be your happy place.

Beautiful, radiant, his smile burns you piece by piece, the joy exhilarating off his skin is warm; something so au fait. Something special grows inside him, something special the crowds don’t understand.

Ambling up to the bike, you stand hand in hand with your love, his eyes glossing over the fine piece of machinery, before to a lock of eyes with you. There’s an inquisitive twinkle to his gaze, a gentle wonder of assurance brewing on his lips. Your opinion matters to him, you matter to him. “Well?” He asks, brining your bundle of interlocked hands up to his lips for a soft kiss to your fingers. “Neat, right?”

“It’s beautiful, baby.” You beam, soft skin of your dancing fingers velveting over the leather seat. His embrace is inviting, the curve of his neck a safe haven for your arms to loom around. Smiling into his lips, your hand cups his beard embroidered cheek, smiling a warm symphony his way. “Hey, I’m really proud of you.” Whispering, your sprightly fingers rest a squeeze to his skin. “You made something so, so beautiful.” Assuring, a kind kiss daubes to his cheek off your rose stained lips, in awe with the way his eyes décor over your features; stay lost in the embodiment of you. “Almost makes me want to ride one.” You roll a chuckle, feeling his warm hands embed around your waist.

“We could.” Keanu smiles, heavy palms gently moving along your back, soothing, comforting. His smile hardly contains, and the faint freckles speckled to his cheeks warm around a blushy peach hue.

Each day with him, as this, you fall further. Further into this sanctuary, this paradise he’s built with you.

You giggle, gaze downcast slight as your fingers smooth to his nape, twirling the ends of his dark chocolate locks. A nervous admission bubbles in your throat, and his eyes furrow ever so slight to your dropping gaze. “I’m just a little scared though,” Confessing, a thick sigh laces your tone, Keanu’s hands removing off your waist in a hearty chuckle, just before his hands hold to your arms, bringing them off his shoulders, in exchange for a loom around his waist. “Well,” He starts, drawing your body closer, flush against his chest. As your arms wrap around his larger body, Keanu’s own circle around you once again, cheeky smile plastered to his lips. “All you have to do is hold on to me.” He muses a deep, throaty chortle, features warmed the way of his love. “I know you can do that.”

Grounded, spellbound in his sincere hold, you absorb a moment to solely,

relish. To sink into the feel of his arms holding you, reminding you that all you have to do, to be alright,

is hold him.

“No,” Giggling, you add. “I meant like, I kind of want to learn how to ride. By myself.” You clear, toying a smooth to a wrinkle that cultivates on the fabric of his black shirt. Engaged, a knit of brows tints to Keanu’s dark, crisp features, a gentle smile twisting his lips to your admitting words. “I’d love to learn, actually; but I’m just…”

Keanu’s ears perk, awaiting the completion of your sentence; yet, as it dies half hearted in your throat, his fingers firm into the skin of your hips, thumbs circling a coax to your figure as he waits. “What, sweetheart?” He wonders, and the crumble of his engaged voice melts in your ears, smiling to the way he listens to each word, each vowel, each syllable that falls your lips. With a gentle bite to your lip, your heavy sigh punctuates with spoken confession, fingers raking a soft run through the dark mane of your boyfriend’s hair.

“I’m scared.” You frown, holding a locked gaze with him for a mere few seconds longer. Rich, Keanu’s chuckle flows through you, the sound of his amuse so delightfully, your beloved remedy. You blush, peachy pastel hues sputtered on curled cheekbones, a roll of eyes his way as he draws in closer, kissing a soft peck to your forehead.

“I was scared too, first. I could teach you, yenno, just how to sit on it, how to control it?” He offers, and his hold around you tightens. “And then, if you want to, maybe you could take a class?” Downcast, his eyes linger for a moment, fishing the right words. “I am a little wary because it can be dangerous, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart.” The joy in his tone rings in ripples. “But, It’s amazing, Y/N, the sights, the sounds, the views. It’s a heaven of it’s own.” Your gushing boyfriend praises, bulky hand finding yours below. “Is it really something you want to do?” He asks again, fingers interlacing a tender thread with yours.

And with a hopeful grin, you nod, hand coupled to his stubble ridden cheek, gently scratching. “I wouldn’t mind you showing me the controls.” Feverishly grinning, your hand trails suggestively low, groping his ass. “Hot teacher? Sign me up.” You wink, letting go of his frame to move towards the bike.

“How do I sit correctly on this one? It’s a little bigger than your other ones.” You wonder, touching the seat with a trace of your finger. With his hand on the small of your back, Keanu taps your thigh, urging it over.

“Bring this leg over,” He instructs, holding your waist, helping you on. “Alright, how does it feel?” He asks, once you’ve positioned on the leather seat. “Comfortable?’’ He probes, stroking your back in a gentle assure.

“Yeah, feels okay.” You declare, squinting your inquisitive gaze. “Gosh, Ke. How do you control this thing? It feels so heavy.” And with a rich giggle, your helpful boyfriend grasps your forearms, gently guiding them to the sturdy handles. “Hands on here, sweetheart. Annnnnd, rest your feet on the footrests.” He encourages, positioning your hands exactly where they need to be. “Alright, now lean forward a little bit, it helps with the balance.” Detailed with proper instruction, his hands hold your arms. Coincidentally, despite the bike being on its stand; stationary, and there being minimal risk of any harm protruding your way, Keanu still kept a hold on you, perhaps unconsciously; unknowingly.

For Keanu, your safety; you being alright, would always cast his thoughts.

You follow as instructed, leaning forward in optimal stance, smiling when you catch his whiskey gaze gloss over your figure, a knowing grin spread to his own cheeks.

Keanu breathes in a sharp inhale, drinking in the way your delicious figure displays on the bike. Spellbound, his earthy twinned pupils glaze over the curve of your breasts that purse together, hanging lower off your chest, in beautiful definition as you lean forward. To the hike of your hips, your ass looks beautifully plump, peachy from this angle, and he swallows tight; his hands smoothing their way down your arms, finding rest to a hold above yours on the bike handles.

“Wow,” He sighs, deep and gruff. “You look so sexy, baby. On my bike.” In his pants, a rush of warmth floods to his cock, and he attempts to quell the lust that cascades through his mind, the sinful thoughts of how he could ruin his deliciously beautiful girlfriend, right then, right there. He attempts greatly to shun the immoral depths, yet his efforts prove fruitless when you bite your lip, leaning further, pursing your breasts tighter together in allowance of your cleavage to bloom in front of him, the valley of your breasts on display for his prying eyes to see.

You understood the effect you’d had on him; a prominent tent slowly swelling to the seams of his manhood. Keanu watches you, simpering, smiling a smirk when you climb off the bike to the sight of his heavy hand palming his clothed cock, stroking his jean clad region, murals of your body painting his thoughts.

“You know, baby,” you whisper, suggestive. “You can touch me.” And with a nipped kiss to his jaw, you drip. “Nothing is off limits to you. Only to you.” And to the ring of your tone, Keanu groans a husky exhale, inquisitive palms finding the swell of your breasts, soothing over, gently kneading the soft flesh in his hands, thumbs circling your perked nipples that ache for him.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans, low, feeling the weight of your smaller hand travel to his pulsing length, palming over the clothed erection that bulges inside. His lips catch yours in a domineering kiss, before you travel lower, peppering small, mindless kisses across his chests, to his stomach, kneeling in front of him as your fingers work the buckle of his jeans, mouth watering.

Peeling the fabric of his boxers down, you admire his glorious cock in its entirety, beautifully erect, monstrous, rosy tip swollen to a blushy hue. It surrounds in bush of thick hair, similar to the drapes that flow off his head. Peering up, you feel his hand rake in your hair, locking the strands in a hold when your lips find his member, wrapping sinfully around in a warm, wet hold, slowly taking him in inch by inch.

He tastes of salty precum, with a tinge of something sweet, a faint trace of his delicious, creamy release a delicacy to your tongue. “That’s…that’s it baby,” He groans, gently pushing your head further down on him, yet cautious of making sure he doesn’t offer you more than you can manage.

Someday, you want to be able to fit his entire cock; tight, throbbing down your throat.

You’ll get there, someday. You’ll just have to keep practicing…

With an abrupt pop, you allow him to fall out your mouth, raising off your knees as you travel higher, hands resting to the broad of his chest, and his lips capture yours once again, sighing to the feel of your petite hand wrapping around his aching cock, slowly, leisurely pumping, jerking, twisting the sensitive skin that sends coils of shock building inside him. Your breath is hot against his lips, two of his fingers hooking to the waistband of your bottoms, slowly peeling.

“I want to fuck you.” He whispers, deep, gravelly, sending a bubble of want throbbing within your empty cunt walls that soaked, preparing for his taking. Nodding, your chest heaves breathy exhales, taking his hand in a firm lace, quick to lead the way inside, ready for his body to work you so fucking well within the silky sheets of your shared bed, similar to the way he often does, on frequent nights.

Nevertheless, Keanu’s body doesn’t move an inch, his hand gripping your waist before he stops your move, rejecting. “No, darling,” his hand moves to your mound, palming the fabric that shields your modesty from him. “I want to fuck you here, on my bike.” He gruffs, need flooding each inch of his body, the throb of his cock almost painful to how hard it swells for you, sore; tender; desperate to be buried inside your welcoming, warm haven.

Nodding, you feel the heat building inside, realizing this must have been one of your boyfriends sinful, envisaging fantasies.

He adores you, and he adores his bikes. Seeing you on one? It was a recipe for his sex starving thoughts and corruptly swelling desire. Nonetheless; you don’t mind.

Sex with Keanu is irresistible; his expertise, his skill, the girth of his cock and how perfectly it fits inside you,

Your body welcomes him, each and every time, slick arousal and frustrated whines far too frequent when he undresses your body slowly, delicately peeling the fabric off your figure for his eyes to devour. Once fully nude and exposed, Keanu’s lips trail to your breast, swirling a nipple with his warm and wet tongue as you continue to pump his member, slicking smears of dewy pre cum over his thick shaft.

“Here baby, sit on my bike.” He drools, heavy hands planting firm to your bare ass as he lifts you gently, positioning your weary, sex craving frame on the opaque seat of his brand new bike. You abide, trusting him full, devoutly as he tears off the texile of his shirt, exposing his bare chest for you; peppered with flushy patches of rosy pink, impending with need. For release.

“Bring your legs around my waist, sweetheart.” Keanu huffs, grabbing hold of your silken skin as it curls around his waist, and you blush. Despite being with him hundreds of times before, being on display for him, this way, your pussy completely vulnerable and exposed; you still feel your breath hitch when he sees you like this. Once sure that the bike is stable, and won’t collapse when he drills into you, Keanu drinks in the sight of your voluptuous body; stroking his cock in preparation, before gripping his length firm, tapping his shaft to your cunt a couple of times in anticipation.

“I got you, sweetheart, do you trust me?” He asks, holding your body tight in position, and you nod for him, a gentle smile his way. “Are you ready for me, baby?” He probes, lined up with your heated entrance, enhanced by his primitive desire and the weight of his cock resting on your cunt lips. You nod, swallowing tight before taking hold of his biceps for balance, feeling the pads of his callous thumbs sink into your waist. Keanu’s lips kiss you soft, quick, before slowly pushing his entire length into your cushy walls, feeling you tighten around him to the point that it burned, feeling his weight inside your small, fitted entrance.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He snarls gruffly, wasting no time before his needy cock beings pounding your core with an aggressive roll of hips, sweaty palms holding tight to your waist, sure to keep you safe on the limited space of the bike seat. Keanu is fucking you so hard, so well, so rough that you swore you could feel him in your stomach; lewd moans and breathy gasps bouncing off the cold walls of the garage. The raunchy sounds of his thick balls slapping against your pussy echo the walls, and he shivers, throaty growls released as his hands roam the bulk of your breasts, praising the feel.

“Fuck, baby,” He moans, rough and profound. Your walls feel delectably tender, warm, and he loses himself within you, the sounds of your whimpers and cries turning him on tenfold. “Ke, faster, faster,” You yelp, encouraging, feeling your cunt sore to his imperative pace and enticing whispers. “Make me cum, Ke, please make me cum,” You beg, sensitive, feeling him shudder as his thumb moves to circle your clit, toying harsh with the bundle of nerves.

His pace quickens, and he pounds into your body, piercing moans and stifled whimpers only encouraging him before you feel the bubble of ache within you intensify, your orgasm spilling in a tender, excruciating wash over each inch of your body, feeling his member stretch deep, deep inside your pussy as he chases his own nirvana. “Fuck!” You gasp, becoming oversensitive, yet still deliciously full of your boyfriend’s massive cock imploring inside, the baritone moans and breathy heaves of his chests, paired with the way his biceps look delectably toned and bulked as he holds tight to your hips; its all far too gorgeous, and you fall far too deeply within the entirety of him in this moment.

“You gonna cum for me, Ke?” You encourage, soft hand travelling below to massage the fullness of his balls, stimulating a delicate, tender wave of pleasure to his manhood.

“You’re so…so wet,” His breath hitches in his throat, and he slams into you harder, and harder, praises of your name, reciting acclaim for your heavenly pussy sashaying off his love drunk lips before channling a rhythem of fast, profound, hard, almost animalistic thrusts into you, his thick voice warning. “Where do you want it, baby?” In reference to bursting strings of creamy cum that would seep out his cock soon.

“On me.” Dark, lustful, in love, your eyes lock to his, and with a wave of absolute pleasure stinging each of his veins, Keanu’s moans roll deep in his throat as he spills your name, laced with satisfied groans,

His cock pulling out quick, spurting streams of his sticky, glossed white cum all over your bare belly, and you sigh, you moan and lose yourself in the way he looks, a heavy hand firmly wrapped to his relieved erection as he pumps himself, emptying his seed onto your body.

Lowering his head, he sighs, so content, holding your hips as he hovers over you on his bike. “Fuck,” Keanu sighs, breathes rugged as he catches his breath, his forehead connecting against yours as you both relish, floating in a paradise of joint euphoria after your orgasms.

His hair falls, draping, curtaining his eyes, a few tousled strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. Brushing it aside, you kiss his lips soft, brushing your tongue over the sensitive skin before planting your hand to his chest. Neither of you speak, collecting your breaths, smiling goofy grins at each other, thoughts hazed by what just happened.

Quiet, yet thoughtful, Keanu holds you to his chest, arms circled around your frame still positioned on his bike. “You okay babe?” A kiss from his lips to your temple. “Was I too rough?”

“Perfect.” You assure, smoothing your hands over his bulked biceps, sighing content. Below, however, you feel a mixture of your releases coat your thighs; trickles of your mess coating his bike seat. Lip bitten, you connect your eyes to his, concerned. “Shit, Ke, your bike is a little…dirty…” You frown, heart warming to the sound of his generous chuckle, and the weight of his cock still resting heavy on your thigh. Again, as a hundred times before, he’d quenched that satisfying long inside you. Fulfilled you so fucking well, even when you had no idea you’d needed it.

“Well,” He smiles, warm and contagious; a wet kiss to the silky dip of your neck. “At least we broke in the new bike.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves x you #Keanu Reeves

[fortunaamajor]

Sad Waters (George Weasley)

George Weasley x Reader

This story takes place during the second task of Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. George is dating Cedric’s younger sister, who ends up being taken into the Black Lake as part of the task... angst and worry ensues. I had to slightly change the results of the task for the story to work, apologies.

Fem!Reader, Hufflepuff!Reader, reader is Cedric’s younger sister who is in Fred and George’s year.

Warnings: Angst, some mild bad language, probably some lowkey bad writing

Word Count: 1.7k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

The buzz of hundreds of excited voices filled the misty valley of the Black Lake with electrifying chatter. Students looked down from the towering stands at the dark water, the morning’s clouded sky reflecting dully in the unbroken sheet. Within this crowd sat three ginger haired siblings: two identical twins and their younger sister - who they were currently in the middle of trying to calm down.

“It’s alright, Gin! I’m sure Harry has come up with something, he’s a champion for a reason y’know”

“But Hermione told me last night he was nowhere near, what’s he going to do?”

Ginny fretted as the boys craned their necks to try and get a good view of the wooden starting platform on the banks of the lake.

“Anyway I’ve not seen her since then, she must be down with Ron wishing Harry good luck...”

“Yeah, I think Y/N is already down there with Cedric, she seemed in a hurry to finish up breakfast this morning”

George had noticed his girlfriend’s odd behaviour earlier in the morning, but had simply put it down to nerves on behalf of her brother who was competing. Usually, Y/N took time to sneak over from the Hufflepuff table in the mornings, sometimes even slipping on one of George’s quidditch sweaters to look less out of place at the table beside him.

The whole Triwizard tournament had put a strain on all those George knew in some way or another - Fred’s mind had been ticking overtime trying to find a way to enter, Ron had (until fairly recently) been oozing anger and jealousy due to Harry being chosen to compete, and Y/N seemed to be constantly switching between bursting with pride for her older brother and chastising his stupidity for ever even entering in the first place.

As the the whistle blew and the task began, hundreds of eyes watched the four champions enter the water, which appeared to swallow them up and pull them under. Already there were cheers and chants brewing, the deeper tones of the Durmstrang students carrying through the mist. Ginny calmed down as she saw Harry swim confidently deeper and deeper into the water. George kept an eye out for Y/N, Ron or Hermione making their way up to claim the seats the twins had saved for them. Soon deciding that they were probably watching from the starting platform, his shoulders loosened and he began to lean forward, eyes darting across the lake looking for any signs of movement or flashes of colour in the dark, still mass of water.

However, he didn’t stay relaxed for long. Among the chatter there was a rumour spreading through the Hogwarts stands. It was one that George Weasley desperately hoped wasn’t true.

“Pssst,” he heard a Slytherin mutter behind him to their friend “... apparently there’s a friend or family member stuck under there for them to rescue before the time runs out, how’s that for pressure?”

Fred’s eyes met his brother’s and widened ever so slightly, just enough for Ginny not to notice. They then wandered, without him even being able to help himself, towards the three empty seats that had yet to be filled. George gulped, a wave of understanding washed over him feeling exactly like the icy water he was staring into. His girlfriend, brother and friend were all hostages below him in the piercing cold of the lake. “Anyway, I’ve heard that sometimes the merpeople can be quite nice,” Fred stammered “they don’t always attack I don’t think.”

Neither Ginny nor Fred had ever seen George so tense. Any glimmer, ripple or splash caused him to sit bolt upright and his lips had been pressed into a thin line for the last twenty minutes. “C’mon Ced, c’mon you can do it mate....” he muttered, his head rested in the his hands which shook slightly from their position on his jittering knees.

Soon Krum surfaced with Hermione, both were gasping but Krum appeared calm and capable as he wrapped an arm round Hermione to help lead her back to the lake’s grassy bank. George let out a low pitched groan mixed with a shaky sigh “Freddie, how long’s it been? what happens if-“

“It’s alright mate it’ll be ok. We know Cedric can do it, and even if he doesn’t - do you really think Dumbledore will just endanger student’s lives like that?”

Usually this answer would comfort George, if you asked him any other year he would be reassured by this thought. But today, he snapped in reply to his twin “If Dumbledore was so against endangering students Harry wouldn’t be in this bloody competition when everyone and their mother knows someone’s got it in for him!”

Silence fell among the Weasleys, Ginny had definitely noticed this unexpected outburst. She eyed her brother cautiously before her attention focused on Harry bursting through the surface of the lake at high speed, Ron bobbing alongside him. The stand promptly erupted in yells and cheers, “Thank Godric” Fred breathed, before whooping Harry’s name, standing to flash him a thumbs up and send off some celebratory red and gold sparks from his wand.

George stood suddenly, throwing down the banner that had been enchanted to read ‘Hip Hip Harr-ay’ - “Where the FUCK is Cedric!? This isn’t safe, Y/N’s been under there for almost an hour now” he hissed, shoving a poor unsuspecting first year aside and storming down the rickety wooden steps to the ground below him.

Fred and Ginny sat in an awkward silence once more , neither pointing out to the other that this was one of the only times they had heard George concerned about the safety of anything or anyone. Unebeknownst to his younger sister, Fred couldn’t help but notice similarities between George’s reaction to her being taken into that god-awful Chamber of Secrets. 

Hermione, Ron and Harry sat shivering on the edge of the wooden deck that made up the platform. Madame Pomfrey bustled around them supplying thick blankets and small vials of steaming orange potion. George barged past her without apologies and cornered Harry. Without a congratulations or even a smile, he looked directly at Harry with pleading eyes, “Is Y/N safe? Did you see Cedric?” Harry’s teeth were chattering and his breaths were still coming in long, heaving gasps. He nodded - “Cedric was right behind me, he was having some trouble with the merpeople but if you reason with them they do come round eventually...”

“Bloody fucking hell how’s he supposed to negotiate with them in time? What happens if they don’t listen Harry? How long is even left...”

George was now running his hands through his bright hair, his eyes trained on the serene surface of the lake, in which he could only see himself reflected and not either of the faces he so desperately hoped for.

At last, a streak of yellow broke through the still water and moved purposefully towards them.

In the stalls Fred and Ginny let out sighs of relief, still watching George as two sodden figures clambered onto the platform. He rushed forward and gathered Y/N in his arms, smoothing the wet hair off her face with warm hands and looking down at her intently. He felt as if his heart was going to burst...or stop. “Hi Georgie” she shivered, briefly leaving his embrace to thank Madame Pomfrey for the blanket and potion. George turned to Cedric, pulling him close and patting his back, rather hard Y/N thought, “Well done mate, thank you .... thank you.” he garbled. Adrenalin coursed through both boys, but through the look in his friend’s eyes Cedric could sense the relief that they shared.

The rough stone walls of the Gryffindor common room glowed in the firelight, George and Y/N had snuck up early from dinner with a small picnic. George whipping off his Gryffindor scarf and wrapping it round Y/N in an attempt to trick the Fat Lady in the portrait. This effort was commendable yet unnecessary. George was seriously underestimating the Fat Lady if he thought that during her time viewing the staircases she hadn’t noticed all the stolen kisses, loving glances and warm embraces he had shared with the Hufflepuff girl. She let the two in anyway, as over time she had developed a small soft spot for the pair.

George ushered Y/N towards the soft red couch, right in front of the crackling fire. “Get some rest love, I’ll be right here.” he advised her, tucking her head into his chest and pulling an arm around her. The two sat in silence for a few moments, although the wind was battering against the ornate windows of the tower - causing George to pull her in tighter. Breaking the silence, her voice was delicate and soft “I was always going to be alright y’know, G? They wouldn’t have kept us down there forever...” Y/N sought to comfort her boyfriend, who she could still feel tensed under her, rather than mock him. She felt him take a deep, shuddering breath and bring a hand up to stroke her hair. “I just, I was just- Godric Y/N I was so worried! Everyone was coming back up and you were still under there. I didn’t know...I just couldn’t imagine... what I would do...” he was getting worked up now, a tear or two slipping from his eyes as his brow crumpled. Sitting up, the girl in his arms pulled him towards her, nestling his head into her neck and rubbing his back in soothing, circular motions. “George, babe, it’s alright - I’m out now. Cedric got me, it’s all okay. I’m right here.” he nodded into her neck, relishing the warmth of her smooth skin and the heat of the fire. “You know, if it had been much longer I probably would’ve jumped into that stupid fucking lake to get you myself.”

“I love you Georgie.” she chuckled slightly under him. “I love you too Y/N, I was so scared to lose you today, even just for that hour. For now please can we leave all this tournament nonsense to your brother?”

A/N: First post! This kind of just invites a post-third task story of Y/N and George doesn’t it? Obviously more angsty vibes,  if you want that let me know...

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #george weasley one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #harry potter fic #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #hp fic #hp imagine #hp one shot

[fortunaaamajor]

Sad Waters (George Weasley)

(This was previously posted on my old account that has now been moved here, sorry if anyone is seeing this twice.)

George Weasley x Reader

This story takes place during the second task of Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. George is dating Cedric’s younger sister, who ends up being taken into the Black Lake as part of the task… angst and worry ensues. I had to slightly change the results of the task for the story to work, apologies.

Fem!Reader, Hufflepuff!Reader, reader is Cedric’s younger sister who is in Fred and George’s year.

Warnings: Angst, some mild bad language, probably some lowkey bad writing

Word Count: 1.7k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

The buzz of hundreds of excited voices filled the misty valley of the Black Lake with electrifying chatter. Students looked down from the towering stands at the dark water, the morning’s clouded sky reflecting dully in the unbroken sheet. Within this crowd sat three ginger haired siblings: two identical twins and their younger sister - who they were currently in the middle of trying to calm down.

“It’s alright, Gin! I’m sure Harry has come up with something, he’s a champion for a reason y’know”

“But Hermione told me last night he was nowhere near, what’s he going to do?”

Ginny fretted as the boys craned their necks to try and get a good view of the wooden starting platform on the banks of the lake.

“Anyway I’ve not seen her since then, she must be down with Ron wishing Harry good luck…”

“Yeah, I think Y/N is already down there with Cedric, she seemed in a hurry to finish up breakfast this morning”

George had noticed his girlfriend’s odd behaviour earlier in the morning, but had simply put it down to nerves on behalf of her brother who was competing. Usually, Y/N took time to sneak over from the Hufflepuff table in the mornings, sometimes even slipping on one of George’s quidditch sweaters to look less out of place at the table beside him.

The whole Triwizard tournament had put a strain on all those George knew in some way or another - Fred’s mind had been ticking overtime trying to find a way to enter, Ron had (until fairly recently) been oozing anger and jealousy due to Harry being chosen to compete, and Y/N seemed to be constantly switching between bursting with pride for her older brother and chastising his stupidity for ever even entering in the first place.

As the the whistle blew and the task began, hundreds of eyes watched the four champions enter the water, which appeared to swallow them up and pull them under. Already there were cheers and chants brewing, the deeper tones of the Durmstrang students carrying through the mist. Ginny calmed down as she saw Harry swim confidently deeper and deeper into the water. George kept an eye out for Y/N, Ron or Hermione making their way up to claim the seats the twins had saved for them. Soon deciding that they were probably watching from the starting platform, his shoulders loosened and he began to lean forward, eyes darting across the lake looking for any signs of movement or flashes of colour in the dark, still mass of water.

However, he didn’t stay relaxed for long. Among the chatter there was a rumour spreading through the Hogwarts stands. It was one that George Weasley desperately hoped wasn’t true.

“Pssst,” he heard a Slytherin mutter behind him to their friend “… apparently there’s a friend or family member stuck under there for them to rescue before the time runs out, how’s that for pressure?”

Fred’s eyes met his brother’s and widened ever so slightly, just enough for Ginny not to notice. They then wandered, without him even being able to help himself, towards the three empty seats that had yet to be filled. George gulped, a wave of understanding washed over him feeling exactly like the icy water he was staring into. His girlfriend, brother and friend were all hostages below him in the piercing cold of the lake. “Anyway, I’ve heard that sometimes the merpeople can be quite nice,” Fred stammered “they don’t always attack I don’t think.”

Neither Ginny nor Fred had ever seen George so tense. Any glimmer, ripple or splash caused him to sit bolt upright and his lips had been pressed into a thin line for the last twenty minutes. “C’mon Ced, c’mon you can do it mate….” he muttered, his head rested in the his hands which shook slightly from their position on his jittering knees.

Soon Krum surfaced with Hermione, both were gasping but Krum appeared calm and capable as he wrapped an arm round Hermione to help lead her back to the lake’s grassy bank. George let out a low pitched groan mixed with a shaky sigh “Freddie, how long’s it been? what happens if-“

“It’s alright mate it’ll be ok. We know Cedric can do it, and even if he doesn’t - do you really think Dumbledore will just endanger student’s lives like that?”

Usually this answer would comfort George, if you asked him any other year he would be reassured by this thought. But today, he snapped in reply to his twin “If Dumbledore was so against endangering students Harry wouldn’t be in this bloody competition when everyone and their mother knows someone’s got it in for him!”

Silence fell among the Weasleys, Ginny had definitely noticed this unexpected outburst. She eyed her brother cautiously before her attention focused on Harry bursting through the surface of the lake at high speed, Ron bobbing alongside him. The stand promptly erupted in yells and cheers, “Thank Godric” Fred breathed, before whooping Harry’s name, standing to flash him a thumbs up and send off some celebratory red and gold sparks from his wand.

George stood suddenly, throwing down the banner that had been enchanted to read ‘Hip Hip Harr-ay’ - “Where the FUCK is Cedric!? This isn’t safe, Y/N’s been under there for almost an hour now” he hissed, shoving a poor unsuspecting first year aside and storming down the rickety wooden steps to the ground below him.

Fred and Ginny sat in an awkward silence once more , neither pointing out to the other that this was one of the only times they had heard George concerned about the safety of anything or anyone. Unebeknownst to his younger sister, Fred couldn’t help but notice similarities between George’s reaction to her being taken into that god-awful Chamber of Secrets.

Hermione, Ron and Harry sat shivering on the edge of the wooden deck that made up the platform. Madame Pomfrey bustled around them supplying thick blankets and small vials of steaming orange potion. George barged past her without apologies and cornered Harry. Without a congratulations or even a smile, he looked directly at Harry with pleading eyes, “Is Y/N safe? Did you see Cedric?” Harry’s teeth were chattering and his breaths were still coming in long, heaving gasps. He nodded - “Cedric was right behind me, he was having some trouble with the merpeople but if you reason with them they do come round eventually…”

“Bloody fucking hell how’s he supposed to negotiate with them in time? What happens if they don’t listen Harry? How long is even left…”

George was now running his hands through his bright hair, his eyes trained on the serene surface of the lake, in which he could only see himself reflected and not either of the faces he so desperately hoped for.

At last, a streak of yellow broke through the still water and moved purposefully towards them.

In the stalls Fred and Ginny let out sighs of relief, still watching George as two sodden figures clambered onto the platform. He rushed forward and gathered Y/N in his arms, smoothing the wet hair off her face with warm hands and looking down at her intently. He felt as if his heart was going to burst…or stop. “Hi Georgie” she shivered, briefly leaving his embrace to thank Madame Pomfrey for the blanket and potion. George turned to Cedric, pulling him close and patting his back, rather hard Y/N thought, “Well done mate, thank you …. thank you.” he garbled. Adrenalin coursed through both boys, but through the look in his friend’s eyes Cedric could sense the relief that they shared.

The rough stone walls of the Gryffindor common room glowed in the firelight, George and Y/N had snuck up early from dinner with a small picnic. George whipping off his Gryffindor scarf and wrapping it round Y/N in an attempt to trick the Fat Lady in the portrait. This effort was commendable yet unnecessary. George was seriously underestimating the Fat Lady if he thought that during her time viewing the staircases she hadn’t noticed all the stolen kisses, loving glances and warm embraces he had shared with the Hufflepuff girl. She let the two in anyway, as over time she had developed a small soft spot for the pair.

George ushered Y/N towards the soft red couch, right in front of the crackling fire. “Get some rest love, I’ll be right here.” he advised her, tucking her head into his chest and pulling an arm around her. The two sat in silence for a few moments, although the wind was battering against the ornate windows of the tower - causing George to pull her in tighter. Breaking the silence, her voice was delicate and soft “I was always going to be alright y’know, G? They wouldn’t have kept us down there forever…” Y/N sought to comfort her boyfriend, who she could still feel tensed under her, rather than mock him. She felt him take a deep, shuddering breath and bring a hand up to stroke her hair. “I just, I was just- Godric Y/N I was so worried! Everyone was coming back up and you were still under there. I didn’t know…I just couldn’t imagine… what I would do…” he was getting worked up now, a tear or two slipping from his eyes as his brow crumpled. Sitting up, the girl in his arms pulled him towards her, nestling his head into her neck and rubbing his back in soothing, circular motions. “George, babe, it’s alright - I’m out now. Cedric got me, it’s all okay. I’m right here.” he nodded into her neck, relishing the warmth of her smooth skin and the heat of the fire. “You know, if it had been much longer I probably would’ve jumped into that stupid fucking lake to get you myself.”

“I love you Georgie.” she chuckled slightly under him. “I love you too Y/N, I was so scared to lose you today, even just for that hour. For now please can we leave all this tournament nonsense to your brother?”

A/N: First story! This kind of just invites a post-third task story of Y/N and George doesn’t it? Obviously more angsty vibes,  if you want that let me know…

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #george weasley one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #harry potter fic #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #hp fic #hp imagine #hp one shot #george weasley

[tree-wizard]

White Night Fantasy

@promiseddifferent @roseprincess1994

My second fic! I got insanely carried away with this one and wrote like 7 pages of Scroldie just laying bed????

Anyways, this takes place right after that implied Prisoner of White Agony Creek scene. So lots of mention of sex but nothing explicit in any way. Lots of introspection and fluff.

I was very intentional with the way I wrote Goldie passages vs Scrooge passages but no one is probably even going to notice.

Title is a Nightwish reference as always. The lyrics of that whole song are perfect.

And oh I made both Scrooge and Goldie Demi .... BEACUSE I CAN HEHEHEH

Goldie starred up into the darkness. She’d gotten a bit carried away in the last hour but now she had to focus on what this had all been for. The nugget. She started to run through different plans but then suddenly stopped. She’d already stolen it. She’d literally had it in her hands last night. Along with the rest of the lockbox with its deed. That was the whole reason why she even let him take her to this isolated barren place. He was knocked out, she had a ride to Dawson, it was more perfect than she could have imagined. But then she saw a curl of her golden hair. The one he’d stare at every night. And she came back. She came back.

Had the sex been for no reason then? She’d always had a reason. Money, future favors, stolen treasure, something. It was always pleasurable once she was in the depth of it but she never had the urge to do it just because. But this time was different. She actually longed for it, without having anything to gain. Except him. She’d longed to have his rough hands move over her body, to have his lips bless her, to feel his breath. She’d never felt like this about anyone before and had no idea sex could be like this.

And in the midst of it all she wasn’t thinking about angles. She wasn’t plotting future moves. All that had matter was being with him. Her defenses had lowered. The defenses she’d gotten so used too, she forgot that they were even there, that she had existed at some point without them. But, oddly, she hadn’t felt exposed. It had felt natural, she felt present and secure. It had just felt right somehow. 

And now he was in her bed with her. Wait, no, she was the one who was in his bed. She passed her hand over the wood. His bed. It just dawned on her that he had slept where she lay every single night before she was here. He broke his back over the same stiff wooden frame, held the same blankets tightly to his shivering huddled body. The heat of the stove would warmly embrace his legs, making him relax his shoulders after a long day of work and convincing him to give into the awaiting rest. What did he think of—those days when he wasn’t too exhausted to think at all as she was sure was the case most nights—before slumber overtook him? His family back in Scotland? All his past travels and endeavors? The fortune he wished to find? Did he face the wall or the open room? Did he squirm in his sleep a lot? What dreams did he have, if any? 

Did his spirit linger all the days she slept here?  He’d always been with her in that case but now he was actually here. They were sharing the bed. In a sense it was theirs. That felt bittersweet for some reason. As if she knew she was lying to herself and she had to forget about such stupid fantasies and grow up. But she pushed the uneasy sense to the back of her mind and tried to focus instead on the warm comfort spreading through her. Their bed.

Scrooge lay in bed waiting to cool off and catch his breath. The rush of the last hour was settling down, leaving his head clear for reflection. The contentment was turning into nervousness as he realized that she was lying only a few inches away.

He had a hard time believing what had just happened. It felt like his whole world had shifted slightly and now everything was slightly off. He presumed that it was actually a pretty normal thing and something that typically happened much earlier than thirty. But it never really crossed his mind at any point in his life. He didn’t care for women, or anyone for that matter, before. He couldn’t understand why other men would go all googly eyed and waste their money on random bar girls. Why would they go crazy at seeing a woman with slightly lifted skirts. He didn’t pay attention to all the dance hall girls in Dawson and that’s probably why he could work besides Goldie whereas any other man would probably be losing their mind the whole time.

But as the days working next to Goldie had passed, he’d felt an unusual twisting warmth take up a home at the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to reach out to Goldie whenever he looked at her lately. He wanted to be near her. Wanted to have that warmth envelope her too. He would heat up when she kissed him and he burned when she went further than that. He didn’t know what was going on with his body. Why was it betraying him, now after thirty years? 

He used to think that if he ignored it, it would go away, but it had only grown, the warmth spreading through his whole body. He used to want to get rid of it but now he didn’t mind that much. He’d felt so much relief and pleasure when they made love. He felt special and he liked to see her enjoyment too. He wanted to be with her. 

It seemed that everything around him stopped when she kissed him. There was only mindless passion. The hard exterior he kept up, especially around her, and all his doubts about himself and her all disappeared. But now that they were done, Scrooge didn't know what was going to happen. Were they just going to wake up tomorrow and go back to their constant bickering, eyes filled with rage? Had it all just been some weird slip up?

Or worse, had it all been a trap? Maybe all that just happened was just a way for her to seem innocent, to make it look like she cared for him, to spin his head so that she’d have time to run away with his gold. He didn’t drink her coffee, her poison, earlier that day so this was plan B. Using her seductive powers to enchant unsuspecting men just long enough to steal their gold was her specialty. She was a siren, ready to drag men that passed her into deep dark waters. He’d already fallen for it once and he’d always curse himself for that. 

Except he didn’t feel too bad about it now for some reason. NO NO! He had been foolish and he couldn’t let it happen again. He wasn’t like all those other men. He couldn’t show any kind of care for her. That would be giving in. She’d know she had him in her grasp. He was smarter than the smarties, tougher than the toughies, sharper than the sharpies. He had to be.

 But he felt his cheeks warming up. Maybe the need to constantly mask his feelings wasn’t just because he needed to keep her from having an advantage over him. Maybe it was easier to pretend that he hated her than to confront the reality: she hadn’t only been able to do the impossible and turn him on, he had truly fallen for her. Find gold, send money to his family, make his fortune. That’s all he planned for, all he had focused on for the last two decades. This was not part of the plan. He couldn’t get distracted when he was finally so close to reaching his goals.

And yet simply going back to the way things were and pretending  that this night never happened seemed impossible. He could just tell her to leave tomorrow morning.

But could he just let her go like that? Make her leave? Never see her again? Remain in this infinite loneliness?

He turned to look at her. With the aid of a moonbeam, he could make out that she lay on her back, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes closed. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and she seemed to be thinking about something. She seemed so soft and peaceful like this. He’d seen her face when it was furious, annoyed, exhausted, focused, lustful (an image that sent electric shivers down his spine) but this one seemed the most precious.

He silently whispered her name. Goldie.

He thought about her all the time and wondered what she thought of. What she was feeling? As much as she was truly the Ice Queen of the North, he could tell that she had a tender heart. Maybe so much that it made her swear to keep up her walls, be strong and never vulnerable. Just like him. They really were so alike. She loafed around and complained a lot and barely did any work in the first few days but he’d watched her slowly get more and more focused until she was just as determined as him. She tried to hide it but he’d noticed how excited she got any time she found some nuggets. He smiled to himself. She really understands now how rewarding hard work is. And she definitely could rise up to the challenge, to all his expectations, and seemed eager to prove herself. She was like a hearty gold veil, full of vigor. Head held high. And she was just as beautiful and shone just as bright as one too. He loved to see her proud with herself. To see her wipe her hands at the end of the day, look proudly down at her findings and smirk at him, with a hint of a giggle, claiming to have found more gold than him. Of course he always replied with a cold stare and a disapproving sigh but he actually really loved when she did that. He loved to see her rare giggles and genuine laughs, and when she’d playfully punch him or make faces at him or throw snowballs in his face. He loved it when they would settle down for meals and she’d listen to him retell his adventures with curious soft eyes. And when she’d talk about her own past and her success with her saloon. He loved that wistful look in her eyes. He loved how she’d sit with her face nestled in her hands, around their evening fire, and just attentively look out ahead, taking in the quiet beauty of the valley painted by the glow of the setting sun. The alpenglow on the mountains in the distance. The grandeur and purity of the Yukon wilderness. He just loved having her work and sit beside him, hearing her breath and feeling the whispers of her feathers.

He loved her.

But such affection was foreign to him. Even if he let himself admit it was there, even if he let himself give in to it, he had no idea what to do with it and that scared him. Fighting with her, keeping her at bay was the already well trodden path, the matted snow. But there on his side was fresh new snow where he hadn’t been before and as much as it was beautiful and glistening and tempting he had no idea what lay under it. It could be jagged rocks or feet upon feet of just snow that he would fall through once he took a step into it. 

He had no idea what Goldie even thought about him. She’d kissed him and then she’d hit him and threw the coffee pot and a bunch of plates at him and then she’d made love to him. He didn’t know what to make of that. He could understand why she’d be angry with him. He’d taken her against her will. He’d taken her away from her business and who knew what would happen to the Blackjack now? He’d essentially kidnapped her. She had to stay with a stranger in an unknown land. And he forced her to work every day too. He felt very ashamed of all this now. She had stolen his gold but she hadn’t deserved this. He could understand why she’d want to get away, even if she didn’t take his gold. She’d return to her home, to the business she had made from nothing and that meant everything to her, where she was in control and where her name, her name, mattered.

She’d told him earlier that if she’d wanted to steal his gold again she would have done it long ago. Maybe she cared for him at least a little then. It definitely felt like she did when they did it but that was most likely because it was his first time and he didn’t know better. He felt so special and adored then, like it was only the two of them in the whole world. But she’d probably had countless similar encounters before. He’d taken her away from the saloon, from Dawson, and she hadn’t seen anyone for a whole month. She probably just finally decided that the clueless virgin was her only option right now. And now she’d return to Dawson, to better men. Did he really believe that Glittering Goldie, the Star of the North, the Ice Queen, would actually love someone and if she did it’d be him?

He felt his chest ache from all those thoughts. He desperately wanted to touch her. To feel her warmth and at least pretend that she cared for him. He turned to face her again and froze.

Just do it, you big dope. Reach out to her. You are the Master of the Mississippi, the Buckaroo of the Badlands, the Terror of the Transvaal, the King of the Klondike and you’re scared of this? You’re Scrooge McDuck, for God’s sake!

At that Scrooge slowly extended his hand and moved away a strand of her face and stroked her cheek. Goldie jerked from the sudden contact and then turned to him with a mischievous smirk, and a catty look in her eyes. But he noticed her expression soften and her eyes become full of longing. He was suddenly reminded of when he came home from shoe shining when he was a child in Glasgow and Matilda would run up to him all upset because some mean boy had teased her and all she wanted was to be scooped up and embraced by her big brother. Her eyes would glisten with a prelude of tears but they’d also be brimming with joy at seeing her brother.

Goldie turned to him with her default expression but suddenly felt herself melt. There he was. His nervous innocent face. Less than a dozen inches away. With those curious big brown eyes. The clear pearl blue moonlight, speckled with floating dust angels, trickled over him. She was so close to him and it felt so intimate and peaceful. She could almost see the warm fuzzy tension in the air suspended between them. She felt herself blush. She wanted to lay here and look at this cute miner forever. The night was endless. It was just them in the cabin, in the same bed, under the same blanket, and her past, the outside world, time itself seemed to fade to the background.

She shifted closer to him and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. Scrooge’s eyes widened. He certainly hadn’t expected her to reciprocate his touch. She pulled the sheets closer over them and started to move one of her hands in small circles over his chest feathers. The movements sent a warm stream through him and pulled him out of his stupor. He finally grew accustomed to what was happening and rested a soft kiss at the top of her head. Goldie smiled at that and pulled him closer, Scrooge wrapping an arm over her back. He closed his eyes. She’s in my arms.

Goldie could feel his heart beating fast so she started to coo quietly in hopes of calming him down (and herself- her own heart wasn’t beating much slower). He squeezed her shoulders. Did he really stare at her curl of hair every night? Could he really love her? For something other than her body even. She felt so comfortable laying in his arms. And this was new for her. She didn’t let other men come this close before. They were foolish and mean and repulsive. But she liked being in this duck’s arms. They were strong and gentle. It seemed like he wanted to press her as much as possible to him, to his heart, but didn’t want to crush her. 

She lifted and turned her head and pressed her beak softly against his.

“With all that anger you usually direct my way, I didn’t think you could be this careful, sourdough.”

Scrooge got flustered at the sound of her voice. He shifted his head a little bit to look into her emerald shining eyes. 

“I’m surprised ye aren’t running away with mah gold.”

She frowned at that. He’d probably never really see her for something other than a thief.

“I know you don’t trust me and I understand that, but I don’t want to steal anything from you anymore.”

Goldie felt his sigh waft over her head. “You can go back to Dawson tomorrow then.”

Goldie stayed quiet. She knew that made sense, but she almost felt upset with him for saying that.

“After everything that happened this month?” She heard herself ask, surprising herself. She didn’t fully know why that mattered. Why she felt like she had to push back at his suggestion.

Scrooge blinked a couple times. “Wha...I...I don’t understand.”

Goldie shut her eyes and leaned closer to him, clutching a handful of his feathers.

Scrooge suddenly felt his chest get damp. Alarmed, he shifted to the side and turned to face her. He clasped his hands over the hand that had been holding on to him.

“What’s wrong, Goldie?”

“Why are you such an infuriating warm sourdough?” She asked, slapping his chest.

Scrooge shifted nervously, unsure how to respond. 

She sighed and looked away. “I don’t think I want to head back to Dawson just yet.”

She turned back to him and stared determined into his eyes. 

“Look, I know I stole from you and I know you think I’m a distraction-”

“Goldie, I-”

“Just listen! You’re trying to find your fortune, and support your family back in Scotland and rebuild your ancestral castle, I get that! I know you care about hard work and being tough and making things square, and you think I’m just some lying, stealing, lazy, dance hall girl. But I want to be part of your world, and not just by being the woman who stole your gold.”

Goldie let out her breath and turned away from him, her face all flushed. She couldn’t believe she’d just said all that. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?

Scrooge’s eyes welled up and he reached out and cupped Goldie’s face, turning her towards him.

“Goldie, you...you’re already more to me than that. I’m so sorry I captured you and took you here and made you work really hard every day. I thought you hated me for that. But...but, I think I love you.”

Goldie smiled and shifted closer, wrapping an arm around him. She rested her forehead against his. 

“Me too, Scroogey”.

#scroldie #fanfic #scrooge mcduck #Goldie O’Gilt #i was going to make it fit in with canon but oops #also million dreams reference in here

[words-writ-in-starlight]

okay, i'm taking that as an invitation: PLEASE post your annotations for the kencyrath playlist?

OKAY SURE TWIST MY ARM I GUESS

Actually this playlist is...long as hell, BUT there’s only like twelve people in this fandom and I’m in a group chat with half of them, so everything is here but it’s got a cut for length because my annotations are Specific.

THE BASICS (in no particular order)

Can’t Cheat Death by the Ballroom Thieves, for Jame, no further comment, I am Correct

I spilled blood in the water Then let the storm roll in I put my hands in the fire Watched my welcome wear thin Salt in my wounds and spit in my eye I burned the path you walk on And I let none survive

Thistles and Weeds by Mumford & Sons, for Torisen, who is a good leader and also falling apart

Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind

Hey Brother by Avicii, for Jame and Tori, in all ways

Hey brother, do you still believe in one another? Hey sister, do you still believe in love, I wonder? Oh, if the sky comes falling down For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, for Kindrie Soul-walker, out of his depth and doing his best

Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind Thinking I can see through this and see what's behind Got no way to prove it, so maybe I'm lying

Soldier, Poet, King by the Oh Hellos, for the Tyr-ridan (I have considered learning to draw SPECIFICALLY to do a comic of this song featuring Jame as the soldier, Kindrie as the poet, and Tori as the king, but I couldn’t pick a verse because it’s not a very long song)

Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, for Jame and Tori, which I would ALSO do a line-by-line breakdown of as a duet, because I love it for them

(Tori) How dare you love me like you've never known fear When you've got more troubles than minutes in the year (Jame) And a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free Well that may be, but you're walking home to me

Dear Wormwood by the Oh Hellos, the ORIGINAL Bane/Jame song, for which I could easily do a line-by-line breakdown cast as a duet between them, the song that I, personally, would set over their last conversation before Bane’s death and over Jame’s flight from the palace, if I was making a TV series, just, you know, if anyone wants to kick me a couple million bucks

I know who I am now And all that you've made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney, for the Kendar, survivors to the last

Do you walk in the valley of kings? Do you walk in the shadow of men Who sold their lives to a dream? Do you ponder the manner of things In the dark?

Delilah by Florence + the Machine, for Jamethiel Dreamweaver, the first unfallen darkling, the finest weapon and cruelest victim of the Master’s schemes, and for her daughter, who saw more and ran faster

Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around

We Have It All by Pim Stones, for Tyrandis, just...listen to it, I’m right

There's glory ahead, but our love will be forgotten If my heart was still mine, I would go to the bottom And apologise to you until the day it went rotten

Mercy Down by Shayfer James, which is THE definitive song for the entire Kencyrath--half-desperate for their missing destiny, half-terrified of that destiny when it shows up at their door.

It’s getting mythical now You better pick your weapons up And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down

THE EXTENDED STUFF (loosely sorted by topic)

Control by Halsey, for Jame, heir to the Dreamweaver, Snare-of-Souls, and learning to dance and running away

They sent me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, with shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

Little Boy by Barns Courtney, for Torisen holding the bones of a little girl who died at the same age as his long lost twin sister

Little boy inside my chest Breathe some life into my bones I've been lost and wandering Down and out and missing home

The Draw by Bastille, for Torisen and the shade of Ganth and the promise of madness on a sleepless night

Don't listen to your friends See the despair behind their eyes Don't listen to your friends They only care and want to know why

Carry Your Throne by Jon Bellion, for Jame and Tori at their best, kissing in the ashfall and dancing in Tentir

Two crowns and a gold cup And they're coming for the throne, love But if your heart is a dog fight Then I'm ready to go to war like

Coming Down by Halsey, for Jame and the twin she loves, who is always, always running away from her

Every single night pray the sun will rise Every single time make a compromise Every single night pray the sun will rise, but It's coming down, down, coming down

Graveyard by Halsey, for Jame and Tori and dreams and the soulscape and running and chasing and trying

I keep running when both my feet hurt I won't stop 'til I get where you are Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads I woulda followed all the way to the graveyard

Thick as Thieves by Shinedown, for Jame and Tori, who can barely have a civil conversation but still manage to be each other’s answer to the concept of ‘home’

Evidently, we can't work it out I guess that courage ain't allowed Evidently, you're not in the mood And everything I say just bothers you

The Horror of Our Love by Ludo, for Bane and Jame, and blood and binding, and shadows crossing continents

I'm a killer, cold and wrathful Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom I've murdered half the town Left you love notes on their headstones I'll fill the graveyards until I have you

Irresistible by Fall Out Boy, for Bane in Tai-tastigon, a prince of the city and a monster in his beloved’s kitchen

Too many war wounds and not enough wars Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores Too many sharks, not enough blood in the waves You know I give my love a four letter name

Hellfire by Barns Courtney, for Bane, giving your soul to the wrong person, and the Lower Town

Run in an alleyway Through a dead end street Murdering promises That I just can't keep

Punch Drunk Grinning Soul by Flogging Molly, for all the Kendar who keep surviving disasters while their people fall all around them, and especially for Marc and Brier

But these tired eyes are crashing down on me While the paint never dries on these four walls that now suffocate me But tonight, maybe tonight all will be free

Sleepsong by Bastille, for soulscapes and locked doors and armor and hidden gardens and a whole race with a collective unconscious who still manage to be awfully lonely

Oh, in the strangest dreams, walking by your side It is the hole you impose upon your life When you're out, loneliness, it crawls up in the ground It's what you feel, but can't articulate out loud

Bad Decisions by Bastille, for Tentir and all the children there who thought they were immortal

Do you remember what you said to me? 'Cause we lost track of time Yeah, we lost track of time You always let me down so tenderly So live fast and die young and stay forever numb 

For The Departed by Shayfer James, for every Kendar who’s ever sold a soul, broken under Honor’s Paradox, died in service, and gone unremembered

So dry your eyes and count to ten They'll have me on the pyre by then Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily

Bones by MS MR, for death banners, and for the dead of Kithorn, and for Dalis-sar, depending on my mood

Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Let her find a way to a better place Broken dreams and silent screams Empty churches with soulless curses We found a way to escape the day

I Am Stretched On Your Grave by Dead Can Dance, for sisterkin, for the massacre of the Knorth women, but especially for Brenwyr and her ghost and her maledight madness

Calling out to the air With tears both hot and wild Oh I grieve for the girl That I loved as a child

NFWMB by Hozier, for Brenwyr and Aerulan (and could be for Jame and Tori but he’s, you know, an ostrich with his head buried in his own trauma)

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves? Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay? Ain't you my baby, ain't you my baby?

Church by Fall Out Boy, for everyone who’s ever fallen in love with Jame, from Dally to Torisen

Oh, the things that you do in the Name of what you love You are doomed but just enough

Renegades by X Ambassadors, for the good times in Tai-tastigon with Dally and Canden

It's our time to make a move It's our time to make amends It's our time to break the rules Let's begin

Breath of Life by Florence + the Machine, for everyone who’s ever fallen to the Knorth glamour and paid dearly for it

But I needed one more touch Another taste of heavenly rush And I believe, I believe it's so

#kencyrath #chronicles of the kencyrath #jame priests bane #torisen black lord #kindrie soul walker #and...everyone else basically. eventually. #i have BIG thoughts about some of these (like dear wormwood and home to me and hey brother. just as a sample.) #and others (like punch drunk grinning soul) i just threw on there because I Vibed With It #THERE'S NO SYSTEM except also the system is elaborate #i certainly can't explain it either way #this was a delightful way to cruise comfortably down off a day of hyperfocus #i love these books so much #i love the music i put together for them #it all just FEELS very on point to me personally #AND IN A FANDOM THIS SMALL WHAT ELSE MATTERS #well actually in any fandom what else matters #i think i am losing focus here #a queue we shall keep and our honor someday avenge #smallblueandloud #asked and answered

[allsassnoclass]

my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

I have had the great fortune to participate in @ashesonthefloor‘s Halloween fic event this year!  Honestly it was a blast and I’m super excited to see everyone else’s creations!

Event Masterlist

For this event, we all were assigned a pairing, then got to choose from a list of prompts.  My prompt was as follows: “You’ve told me three separate times now you have a vampire kink and I’m starting to wonder if you know I’m a vampire.” Or, pretty explanatory. One person is a vampire. The other has a vampire “kink”. (Can also be them saying they like the aesthetic, or trying to hint that they know and don’t mind. Literally do what you want with it) I strayed a little bit, but the prompt idea is still there!  Hope you enjoy!

Michael is having a hard time figuring out if the amount of vampire jokes and references is due to Ashton knowing his deepest, darkest secret, or if that's just his sense of humor.

Read on ao3

1.

The first time it happens, they’re heading to their first date.

Michael hasn’t really dated anyone since the 90s, because dating is complicated.  He doesn’t age.  He can’t eat regular food.  Going out in the sun is dicy at best and results in extremely painful sunburn at worst.  He shows up in most mirrors now, because they rarely have silver backing anymore, but pictures are a no-go because his eyes cause a lens flare.

The last person he went on an actual date with was Calum, because they’ve been friends for centuries and figured they might as well give it a go.  Michael wishes they could have worked, but it took some making out before they both agreed that, as much as they love each other, it’s all platonic.  The date itself was fun, but there were no romantic butterflies to be found.  Michael has seen Calum naked many times before, and while he can appreciate a handsome man, when it’s Calum it does nothing for him.

Ashton is very handsome.  He’s also funny, and passionate, and he’s got more than enough snark to speak Michael’s language.  He’s got tenacity and determination, and for some reason part of that determination got directed towards getting Michael on a date with him.

He didn’t have to work very hard.  Michael said yes at the first opportunity.

For the first date, Ashton asked if he could pick him up, so Michael waits nervously in his living room, listening to his grandfather clock ticking.  (He’s had it since 1733.  It was made specifically for him by the clockmaker, a parting gift because if Michael stayed in the area for too much longer, his lack of ageing would get suspicious.)

(This is such a bad idea.  Even if this date goes well, Michael can’t be in a relationship with a human for very long before his secret will slip.)

His phone vibrates with a message, and he nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes that it’s just Calum, not Ashton about to cancel or spring a sudden change of plans.

Cal: have fun on your date ;) wow him with your Biting sense of humor

Michael: i hate you the puns got old centuries ago

Cal: you love them

Michael’s doorbell rings, startling him enough that he fumbles his phone and effectively cutting off any sort of argument he may have started to get into.  Michael stands from the couch, takes a deep breath, and answers the door.

Ashton looks really fucking good.  Michael has only really seen him in their work clothes, when Ashton is writing up articles about the local music scene and Michael is busy approving things to put on the website, but he dresses up very nicely.  His hair is artfully tousled in a way Michael knows must take a little bit of time, and Michael thinks there might be just a hint of glitter under his eyes that would make his heart palpitate if it still did stuff like that.  His shirt is short sleeved, showing off his arms nicely, and there are roses printed against the white fabric that match the ones in the bouquet in his hands.

Michael doesn’t know the last time someone gave him flowers.

“Hi,” Ashton says.  “You look amazing.”

Michael feels like he’s underdressed now.  He’s got on a black long sleeve, because the sun hasn’t fully set yet and he’s trying to cover as much skin as possible, and a pair of black jeans.  It’s a nicer shirt of his, something name brand that he can afford due to decades of saving here and there, but he’s well aware that his overall style leans more casual than dressy.

“Thanks,” he says.  “You look absolutely fantastic.”

Ashton glances down and smiles, pleased.  Michael likes that he can make him react like that.

“I got you flowers,” Ashton says.  “I hope you aren’t allergic.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d feel silly.”

“I’m not,” Michael smiles, taking them from him.  There are a few sprigs of lily of the valley tucked in amongst the roses and ferns, and he takes a deep inhale.  He loves the sweet scent of roses and how lively fresh flowers can appear to be even when they’re dying.  Maybe it’s self-centered, but he likes to think there are some similarities between him and the plants.  They’re not alive anymore, but they’re still going, and they can still bring people a little bit of joy for a few impermanent moments before moving on.

“I’ll put these in some water.  You can step in for a second, if you want.”

He had excessively cleaned the entry and living room earlier in the evening, paranoid in case something like this forced Ashton inside.  At least now he’s certain that there’s nothing incriminating lying about.

“Nice place,” Ashton says.

“Thanks,” Michael replies, already booking it for the kitchen to grab a vase.  Once he gets there he takes a moment to try to stop the slight shake to his hands and compose himself.

You are an ancient, immortal being who has lived through the fall of empires, he scolds himself.  You can handle one date with a cute boy who brought you flowers.

Ashton beams when Michael says he’s ready to go.

“I was thinking we could walk, if that’s okay,” he says while Michael locks the door behind them.  “It’s not far.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, yet?” Michael asks.  Ashton mimes zipping his lips.  The only information he gave Michael was that it’s going to be a pretty casual setting (and yet he showed up to Michael’s door looking like that) and that Michael won’t have to eat.  That’s something he specifically requested, making up a bunch of excuses about being gluten free and severely lactose intolerant and giving a list of other allergens a mile long.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ashton laughs when he pouts.  “Come on.”

He grabs Michael’s hand to start leading him down the street, and Michael absolutely will not admit to himself how nice it feels, warm and alive against his.

They go through some basic small talk on the way there, touching on current work projects since they’re in different departments and learning a bit more about each other’s families.  Michael makes an excuse about his being in Australia and tells Ashton about Calum instead, and Ashton fills time by describing his mom and siblings.  It’s cute to see the way he lights up, seeming radiant in the light of the setting sun that Michael has to squint harshly against.

“Wow, you really don’t like the sun,” Ashton says eventually.

“What? Oh, not really, I guess.”

“I should’ve known, but I wasn’t sure if all of you are fully nocturnal or not.”

“What?” Michael asks, alarm bells ringing.  “Why would you--what makes you say that?”

Ashton shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know.  You’re just so pale and pasty,” he says, obvious tease in his voice.  “Definitely closer to a creature of the night than an early bird, I’d guess.”

He’s joking.  Ashton has not, somehow, discovered his secret ten minutes into their first date.

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs.  “Not all of us can have perfect natural tans.  I burn really easily.”

“Do you glow in the dark, too?  Turn fluorescent under blacklights?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he leans a little into Ashton as he says it to let him know that the banter isn’t unwelcome.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means before Ashton is pulling him towards the doors of a large building.  He holds it open for him like a gentleman, and Michael misses the contact of their hands but appreciates having all of his senses free to process the new environment, which is full of a plethora of new sights, sounds, and smells.

“Roller skating?” Michael asks, looking around the large arena.  It’s dim, but his eyes adjust immediately to take in the wondrously tacky carpet outside the rink, highlighted in brief bursts by rotating colorful lights.  Loud music plays over the speakers, and in the arena people in small groups or pairs are making their way around the track.  He can smell fried food and various types of beverages coming from a bar in the corner, mingling with the scent of unfamiliar people.  He takes it all in for a moment, then dials back his senses to make it more bearable.

“It’ll be fun,” Ashton says.  “Willing to give it a go?”

“Definitely.”

They go get their skates, and Ashton pays for the shoe rental and the entrance fee.  Michael hasn’t been roller skating in probably around a decade, and he’s excited Ashton picked this as their date location.  So many date ideas these days have to do with food, the only thing Michael absolutely can’t participate in, but Ashton found something that will hopefully be fun while still allowing them to talk and get to know each other better.

“Ready?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods, and then they step out into the rink.

Ashton, it turns out, is worse at roller skating than Michael is.  That makes sense, because Michael did it a lot in the 70s and 90s and has gone a few times since to keep it fresh, and Ashton isn’t awful, but there are a few instances where he wobbles and his hand immediately reaches out to grab at Michael’s arm before he rebalances and apologizes.  Michael laughs at him good naturedly and does a few circles around him until Ashton huffs and Michael slips an arm through his.

“Come on,” Michael says.  “Once you’re used to this in about fifteen minutes, I’ll race you around the track.”

Michael wins the first race, but Ashton wins the second, although Michael is giggling too much for it to count, in his opinion.  They spend a lot of time making laps and talking, and Michael skates backwards to show off at every opportunity while Ashton dances to the songs that come on over the speakers to make him laugh.  It’s one of the best nights Michael has had in a long time, and by the time they leave they’re both walking slowly, stretching their time together as much as possible.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ashton says when they finally reach Michael’s door.  His front light makes the glitter under Ashton’s eyes sparkle, and Michael technically doesn’t have to breathe, but his breath still catches.

“Me too,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So...do you want to do this again?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.  I’ll take you out, next time.”

“Okay,” Ashton smiles, ducking his head.  Michael catches a faint blush on his cheeks, blood rushing up to color them, and he loves that he sees Ashton like this.  At work, he’s always cool and level-headed, confident in what he says and strong in his opinions.  Michael has managed to turn him bashful, and that is possibly the best thing to come out of the date.

“I should let you get on with your night,” Ashton says eventually.  Michael tries to find some sort of excuse to get him to stay, but then Ashton leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s cheek, soft and lingering.  When he takes a step back, Michael wants to pull him in again to memorize the scent of his skin and feel of his warmth.

“Good night,” Ashton says.

“Night,” Michael makes himself reply.  Ashton smiles again, then sets off down the street.  Michael watches him, smiling when he glances back and waves again, and continues to stand on his front stoop until Ashton is fully out of sight, even for him.

His phone buzzes as soon as he steps inside, and Michael pulls it out in case it’s something important or work related (or Ashton).

Cal: how was the date? or are you two still going…?

Michael: really fucking good

2.

On the third date, Michael gets to see the inside of Ashton’s apartment.

Michael took them stargazing for their second date.  There was a meteor shower he wanted to try to watch, anyway, and he found a good spot outside the city where it would be mostly visible.  Ashton likes being outdoors, and Michael doesn’t mind it at night, so he drove them out of the city, made the trek up a hill, and laid out a blanket for them to cuddle up in.  All in all, it was a great night.  Even the car ride to and from the location was amazing, because Michael told Ashton to make a playlist for it and they spent the entire time discussing favorite songs.  Ashton is such a snob about it sometimes, since he’s a music journalist and is always evaluating in his head, but there were a few surprises that he put on there simply because “good music doesn’t always have to be good music, Michael.”

Ashton kissed him on the cheek again when Michael walked him to his door.  Michael thinks that something so simple shouldn’t occupy so much space in his thoughts, but he’s been replaying it in his head over and over.  It’s a little distracting at work, especially when he gets one of Ashton’s articles to upload to the website.

They head to Ashton’s right after they both clock out.  Ashton doesn’t live far and typically walks (he really likes walking places, Michael has noticed), but Michael drives them so he’ll have his car handy at the end of the night.  It’s a relatively nice building, and Ashton holds the lobby door open for him, which counts enough as an invite to allow him to enter.  They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, then Ashton unlocks his door and steps in.

From what Michael can see, it’s a nice apartment.  The entry, kitchen, and living room flow easily together, and there’s a hallway off to the side that Michael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.

He can’t step over the threshold.  He hasn’t been invited in this time, not explicitly enough for him to freely enter despite knowing that Ashton wants him there.

“My roommate is out for the night.  I swear I cleaned before I left for work today,” Ashton says, puttering around the living room and picking up what looks like a stray sock, righting the pillows on the couch and straightening some books on the coffee table.  Michael leans against the doorframe and watches him.  Fluffing the pillows doesn’t really matter to Michael, but if it makes Ashton feel better it’s no hardship on him.

Ashton finishes, then glances around until he spots Michael still in the hall.

“Oh.  I didn’t really invite you in, did I.”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do,” Michael teases.  “I’d hate to intrude, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Ashton says, coming forward and taking both of Michael’s hands in his.  “Michael Clifford, I formally invite you into my home.  You are welcome here whenever you’d like.”

“A simple ‘hey, come in,’ would’ve been sufficient, but thanks,” he laughs, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says.  “If you’re going to be vampiric about entering my home, I’m going to treat you with the proper respect, Count Clifford.”

Apparently the vampire jokes are going to be a thing.  Michael can work with that, instead of panicking over it.  If he turns it into a bit, maybe Ashton will brush things off longer.

“Thank you, mortal.  Now, I vant to suck your blood,” he says, exaggerating the awful stereotypical (absolutely false and insulting) accent.  It gets a laugh from Ashton, though, which is what he wanted.

“If you manage to beat me at chess, I’ll let you,” Ashton says.

Michael hasn’t let himself think about Ashton’s blood.  He can control himself very easily around humans, and bloodlust isn’t really a thing with him unless he hasn’t eaten in over a week.  He has a specific concoction that he picks up from the magic shop like clockwork, a mixture of animal blood, some herbs, a few drops of human blood (humanely donated), and whatever the fuck is the flavor for that batch, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely forgotten how amazing it tastes to drink pure, living blood.  It’s incredibly intimate, and Michael hasn’t been that close with a human in a very, very long time.

“Okay,” he chokes, once the silence has stretched on too long.  Ashton quirks an eyebrow at him, but moves to get the board games without comment.

Michael loves board games.  He loves all games, really, and he mostly deals with video games now to keep as up to date as possible (and because he doesn't have to invite friends over to play most of them).  What’s nice about games, though, is that they can change every time.  Michael has been playing chess since it was invented, but he’s never played against Ashton, and it’s going to be an entirely new experience.

Unfortunately, Ashton is extremely good at chess.

“What the fuck,” Michael says, king toppling after a five-move checkmate.

“Darn,” Ashton replies, faux innocent.  “I guess there’ll be no bloodsucking tonight.”

“Wait, I want a rematch.  I’m good at chess, I swear.”

Ashton wins twice more before they move on to another game.  They cycle through a few before landing on a card game from Ashton’s family, one that Michael hasn’t heard of or played before.  It has a lot of complicated rules, and Ashton walks him through it slowly.  If Michael feints misunderstanding more than necessary just to have Ashton’s focus on him, leaning close to look at his cards and explain the best moves, then that’s his business.

Michael doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Ashton’s stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.

“How is it already nine o’clock?” he asks.  “Shit, you haven’t eaten yet.  You could’ve had something.”

Ashton just shakes his head.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you if I don’t have anything to feed you, too,” he says.  Michael wishes it were possible for him to digest human food, because while Ashton does have a nice amount of blood he could tap into with permission, somehow Michael doesn’t think that’s on the table

“I have a weird meal schedule, anyway,” he says.  “I eat a really big lunch, then only something small late at night.  I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll remember that for future reference,” Ashton says.  “Although someday I hope you let me feed you.”

It is such a good thing that breathing is an option for Michael, rather than a requirement.  Ashton may not have any clue how what he’s saying sounds, but that doesn’t mean Michael isn’t affected.

“We’ll see,” he says, although there’s no chance that’ll ever happen.  “I should probably head home, anyway.”

Ashton checks the time.

“You can stay longer if you want.  My roommate will be back soon, but he wouldn’t mind.”

Michael wants to stay, but he’s not sure he’d ever leave if he did.

“I think I’ll go.  I’m not sure we’re at the “meeting the roommates” stage yet.”

Michael stands, and Ashton follows to walk him out.

“I had a good time.  Again,” Ashton says as they walk down the stairs.

“Me too, even if I think you were somehow cheating at chess.”

“Hey,” Ashton complains, then pauses.  “I was going to say that jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but everything is a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Michael says.  “That’s not true at all.  I have made some bad fashion choices in the past.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ashton says.  Michael wishes he could show him the pictures from the 80s, as embarrassing as they are.  They reach the bottom landing entirely too soon, but Ashton walks him out to the parking deck until they’re standing next to his car.

“So,” Ashton says, squaring his shoulders.  “We’ve been on three dates so far, and I really like you, Michael.  Hanging out with you has been some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  I was wondering if you wanted to officially be my boyfriend.”

Fuck.  The smart thing would be to cut this off now, before either of them get too attached, because Michael already thinks it would absolutely shatter his non-existent heart if Ashton found out and thought he was a monster.

“Absolutely,” he says instead, because he’s an idiot who wants what he can’t have.  “These past few dates have been the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”

Ashton beams, like the sun breaking through clouds.  He has dimples, and Michael really wants to press his fingers into the divots.  He just wants to touch Ashton everywhere, really, to feel the soft skin and know that there’s blood bringing heat to it from his heart to every corner and crevice.

There’s something so absolutely tantalizing about how alive Ashton is.  Michael knows that he can’t be more like him, not even if he was actually alive still, but he’s content to have him near.  He’d be content to watch from a distance, honestly, but if Ashton wants him close then Michael is going to stay close.

He should not be this whipped after only the third date.

“Well,” he says once they’ve spent too much time grinning at each other silently.

“I should let you go,” Ashton says.  “I’ll text you.”

“I’d like that,” Michael says.  He goes to open his car door, but Ashton’s hand on his wrist stops him.  He leans forward and to kiss Michael on the cheek, just like the past two dates, but this time it lands a bit lower and closer to the middle.  The corner of his mouth hits Michael’s and lingers there for just a second longer than he can bear.

“For fucks sake,” he breathes, then slots their lips together properly.  Ashton smiles into the kiss before he can get it under control and properly kiss back.  Maybe it’s dramatic to say that this kiss feels like it’s filling some hole in Michael that he didn’t know was vacant, but Michael is a dramatic guy, and there’s something special about the way their noses bump and how instinctual it is to shift closer.  Michael doesn’t really want it to end, so he gives Ashton another peck before pulling away fully.  Ashton’s eyes take a moment to flutter open.

It’s definitely far too early to be in love, but Michael is very self-aware after being around for so long, and he knows he’s going to have to actively try not to fall head-over-heels for Ashton.

“Have a good night, Ashton,” Michael says.

“You too.  Drive safe.”

Michael keeps his composure as he pulls out of the parking space, aware of Ashton’s eyes on him.  He manages to keep it together all the way home, actually, but the moment his door shuts behind him he’s leaning against it, giddy with a crush and wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

3.

Movie nights become a bit of a thing.  It’s a low-maintenance way to spend time together, and sometimes they’re both too tired after grueling work days or hard weeks to be around a lot of people.  Michael’s house has a pretty nice tv, and he has an extensive movie collection, including some horrible b-movies on VHS that Ashton finds endlessly amusing.  A lot of Michael’s favorite moments are spent snuggled up on the couch under Ashton’s arm or with his feet in his lap, watching the way the light from the screen plays off of his face more than the movie itself.

Ashton hasn’t seen the Twilight movies, which is almost a travesty.  Michael watched all of them in theaters with Calum, both of them weirdly captivated with how completely bonkers and inaccurate they are, and they’ve seen them often enough to quote them almost completely to each other at the drop of a hat.  Michael is tired today, and he wants something he doesn’t have to pay much attention to.

He sleeps significantly less than humans do, but that doesn’t mean that staying up for the past week and a half straight was a good idea.  He was also on his feet more than usual at work, and everything is hurting a little.  His body has better-than-average healing, but it’s also over a few centuries old.  Today, he’s feeling it.

Edward has just gotten the first sniff of Bella and looks like he’s about to puke when Ashton turns to him.  Michael is leaning against the corner of the couch, head lolling to the side and feet tucked up next to him.  He’s been looking at Ashton and letting his thoughts drift, and he should probably be more embarrassed than he is that he was caught at it.

“What’s up with you today?” Ashton asks.  “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Tired,” Michael says.  “My feet hurt.”

“I can help with one of those things,” he says.  “Give me your feet.”

“What?”

Ashton gestures until Michael uncurls, stretching his legs out until his feet land in Ashton’s lap.  He starts at Michael’s ankles, gently rubbing and then moving to the bottoms of his feet.  Michael jumps when he presses down on a particularly tight tendon, but it’s already feeling leagues better.

“I can’t believe you’re touching my feet,” he groans as Ashton presses a knuckle into the center, making his toes curl.  “That’s so gross.”

Ashton snorts.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll wash my hands after if it makes you feel better.  I just want to make you feel good.”

Michael’s face would be completely inflamed if he had the blood for it.

“Shut up.  This better not be a fetish for you.”

Ashton laughs this time, a full belly laugh that Michael would enjoy hearing more if it didn’t make him stop the massage.

“Would that be a deal breaker?” he giggles when he’s calmed down enough.  Michael takes a moment to evaluate if he’s actually joking or not, because he really likes Ashton and has loved being his boyfriend for the past couple of months, but feet might be where he draws the line.

“No, I don’t have a foot fetish,” Ashton says after a moment of Michael staring at him like a deer in the headlights.  Michael lets out a sigh of relief.  He can be adventurous about stuff like that, and he’s been around long enough to try basically everything, but someone being aroused by his feet will always be just a little too weird.

“Do you have any embarrassing fetishes or kinks?” Ashton asks conversationally.  “Just… for future reference, if that’s something you want.”

They haven’t done anything besides some lazy making out, which Michael is grateful for.  He likes that they’re taking their time with it.  He doesn’t want to rush this, but the thought has crossed his mind before.

He swallows.  Ashton’s alternating between glancing at the tv and paying attention to his massage, and Michael doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he’s not trapped under that gaze or upset that he doesn’t have Ashton’s full undivided attention.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Michael says.  “I’m open to a lot of things, but I really like being taken care of.  I’ve been told I can be demanding and needy.  Sometimes I like… being held down, I guess.  Nothing excessive, but…”

He’s an extra-strong, extra-resilient being.  Every time he feels like someone else has the control, it’s a special kind of rush.

Ashton glances at him from under his eyelashes, the blue-green light from the tv casting strange and otherworldly shadows over his face.  Michael swallows thickly again.

“I like taking care of my partner, so that works out,” Ashton says.  Michael nods.  Ashton turns back to the tv and tilts his head in consideration, putting his neck on full display.

“You know,” he says, “I never really was into biting, but now…” He trails off, then brings a finger up to his neck, tracing along the length of it subconsciously.  At least, Michael hopes that it’s subconscious.  The air is thick with tension, and if Ashton is doing this on purpose than he knows a lot more about Michael than he’s let on.

“It might be nice to be marked up a bit,” Ashton says.  He glances at Michael, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile.  “Maybe Bella had the right idea, going after a vampire.”

Michael snorts and the tension dissipates like a balloon popping.

“I hardly think anyone in this movie counts as a real vampire.”

“You don’t think real vampires sparkle in the sun?” Ashton asks.  “Darn.  What’s the point of vampires if you have to dump glitter on them for the sparkle effect?”

“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs.

“I’m the idiot?  You’re the one who’s all the way over there when you have a perfectly good boyfriend right here who’s ready to cuddle you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and shifts to tuck himself against Ashton’s side.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Very,” Ashton says, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them.  It’s cozy.  Michael sighs in contentment.

“Do your feet feel a little better?” Ashton asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you want to take a nap now, you can.”

Michael hums and seeks out Ashton’s other hand, tangling their fingers together sloppily.  He’s tired, but he probably won’t drift off.  He has all night for a power nap, and right now he doesn’t want to miss a second of his time with Ashton.

4.

The door bangs shut behind them, and Michael doesn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Ashton is on him again, lips incessantly seeking his and body caging him against the wall.  Michael’s own hands are already slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel the warm expanse of his back and pull him even closer.  He’s always run cold, even before he was turned, but right now he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, flames igniting with every point of contact between them.  Ashton gets a hand in his hair and tugs, and Michael makes a noise he wasn’t expecting to come out of him.

Don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, he repeats to himself.  It’s typically effortless to keep his fangs retracted and unnoticable, but he hasn’t done this with someone he truly likes in a very, very long time.  He can’t allow himself to get so mindlessly overwhelmed that they slip down.

Ashton detaches their lips to take a breath, and Michael takes the opportunity to trail kisses over his jawline and down the column of his throat.  Ashton hums into it, the sound reverberating through his vocal chords, and Michael nips at his throat to turn the hum into a groan, sucking at it again to ease the sting.

There’s a particular feeling of satisfaction at leaning back briefly to take in his progress, knowing that the blood is pooling just under the surface of Ashton’s skin.  When he returns to his ministrations with a slightly harsher bite, Ashton jolts, rocking into him.

“Fuck, Michael,” he breathes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Michael asks between kisses, trailing over his collarbones now because Ashton never buttons his fucking shirts.

“Anything.  Everything.  I--” He’s cut off by another groan that dissolves into a breathless laugh.  “You’re so fucking distracting; get back up here.”

He tugs on Michael’s hair again, guiding their mouths together.  It’s easier than breathing to let Ashton take control, and Michael could stand here all night and let himself be kissed against the wall if there weren’t other things he wanted to be doing in the bedroom.  Still, he whines when Ashton pulls away.

“I know you don’t sleep, and I’ll keep up as much as I can,” Ashton pants.  “I can’t fucking wait to take you apart.”

“So do it,” Michael says, not able to care about how desperate he sounds.  “No one’s stopping you.”

“You’re such a mouthy little shit,” he says, leaning back in for a kiss that Michael feels all the way down to his toes.  They don’t part again until they’re in the bedroom and falling onto the mattress.

-/-

Afterwards, Michael watches, amused, as Ashton fights to keep his eyes open.  They never turned on the lights, but Michael can see just fine with his vampire eyesight and the early rays of sunshine beginning to paint the sky outside in pinks and oranges.

“Just go to sleep,” Michael laughs, tracing another mindless pattern onto Ashton’s ribs.  “We’re done.  I can’t handle anything else.”

“Weird to sleep when you’re not,” he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed again.  “Can feel you watching me.”

“I won’t watch you,” Michael says.  “I’ll probably fall asleep right after.”

Ashton snorts halfheartedly.  Michael rolls his eyes, then nudges Ashton onto his side and fits himself behind him.  Ashton sighs and relaxes again almost immediately, a heavy weight at his front while Michael slides one arm under the pillow and anchors them together with the other.  He gets a great view of Ashton’s sweaty and tangled hair, and that’s about it.

“There,” Michael murmurs.  “Now I can’t watch you.  Happy?”

Ashton hums.  He’ll be out in less than a minute.

Regardless of all of Ashton’s jokes about Michael never sleeping (he resents that he looks tired enough at all times for that to be an assumption), Ashton managed to tire him out.  He doesn’t need to sleep right now, but there’s no harm in it.  He lets the steady push and pull of Ashton’s breathing and the heartbeat he can barely feel under his palm lull him, and he drifts off soon after.

5.

“You want me to meet your family?” Michael asks, eyes wide in the face of this new information.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ashton says nonchalantly, but the way he’s avoiding Michael’s eyes tells him this conversation is anything but casual.  He’s focused on throwing things into a blender, raspberries and peaches joining ice cubes and yogurt for a smoothie that Michael has watched him make dozens of times before.  Michael can drink smoothies if they’re blended enough, and honestly he’s got a bit of a blood hunger going on because the last batch of his concoction from the magic store tasted gross and he’s supposed to go in today to get the new one.  Still, a smoothie wouldn’t help with that, and he turned down Ashton’s offer in favor of a cup of coffee, wanting a warm mug in his hands.  He’s glad to have something to keep his arms from flailing at this new curveball, in any case.

Ashton turns on the blender, the angry sound filling the previously-serene morning.

He can’t meet Ashton’s mum and siblings.  He’s a vampire, and he’s already entirely too attached to Ashton as it is.  It’s easy to fantasize about revealing his secret and Ashton being okay with it when it’s just the two of them, but there’s no way he can get to know his family only to break their heart when he has to leave Ashton for his own good.

Michael can’t watch Ashton grow old without him.  He could do it for a few years, maybe a few decades, and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but eventually it would get too hard.  Michael’s good at running, and he’s good at being alone.  It’s harder to do both of those things with a family involved.

“That’s a big step,” Michael says once the blender stops.

“I’ve met Calum, and you said he’s closer than your family.”

“Against my will!”

Calum had insisted on meeting “the guy who’s got you wrapped around his finger,” and Michael had been powerless to stop it.  They get on like a house fire and Michael gets teased about five times more than he used to, but he secretly loves it.  Calum and Ashton are by far the two people he loves most in the world, and it’s nice to see them also enjoy each other.

“Michael,” Ashton says, pouring his smoothie into a glass and still refusing to look at him, something unfamiliar in his expression, “I’ve never gone this long without introducing them to someone I’m serious about.  They really want to meet you.”

“I--I want to meet them, too, but…”

Ashton sighs and finally faces him head-on.  Michael has never felt this small.

“Are you serious about us?”

“Of course,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and he watches something shutter in Ashton’s eyes.  He turns back to the blender, starting to dismantle it so he can rinse it properly, always trying to keep the kitchen neat, and Michael knows that he has to say something to try to fix this, anything to stop the sad slope of Ashton’s shoulders and that hurt look in his eyes.

“Ash, I have to tell you something,” he says before he can think twice.  Ashton hums, and Michael steels himself for whatever reaction is about to occur, whether he has to bolt for the door or not.  “I--um, well, I…”

He hasn’t had to confess to someone in over forty years.  He doesn’t know how to do it anymore.  He swallows and tries again.

“I don’t really know how to say this, but… I mean, I--”

“Shit,” Ashton exclaims, something clattering in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, and a second later the metallic tang of blood reaches his nose.

“Cut my thumb on the blender blades,” Ashton says, turning around and sticking the pad of his thumb in his mouth.  Michael stares at him, unable to move.

The thing is, Ashton’s blood smells really good.  He knew it would, because if he loves everything else about Ashton it makes sense that he would love him down to the blood in his veins and the DNA it carries, but this is the first time Ashton has split skin in his vicinity, and it’s more to handle than Michael thought it would be.  He’s hungry, and he’s upset, and Ashton is right there in front of him, bleeding.

He shakes himself from that train of thought.

“Are you alright?  How bad is it?” he asks.  Ashton takes his thumb out of his mouth to check, and that just makes the smell intensify.  Michael feels a bit of saliva pool in his mouth and swallows it back.

“It’s not too bad,” Ashton says.  “It mostly just hurts, but once the bleeding lessens I’ll put a bandaid on it and it should be fine.”

He goes to put it back in his mouth and glances up at Michael, freezing at whatever he sees there.  Michael doesn’t know what his face is doing, or why his posture feels so stiff, or what the fuck he’s supposed to do with Ashton just standing there with a bleeding thumb, and for a long moment they just stare at each other.  Michael forgets to breathe.

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a startled animal towards him, Ashton reaches out his hand towards Micheal.  A drop of blood drips off his thumb and onto the floor.  Michael couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“You know,” Ashton says, low and calm, “you could help me stop the bleeding, if you wanted.”

Michael stares at him, not comprehending the words, when he feels two pinpricks on the inside of his bottom lip.

His fangs dropped.

“I have to go,” he says, scrambling out of his seat and hastily putting his coffee on the table.  He probably spills some, but he can’t look back to check, shoving on his shoes and sprinting out the door, Ashton’s questions echoing behind him.

Shit.  Shit shit shit shit shit.

He’s scrambling for his phone as he tries to unlock his car, tears starting to cloud his vision with the panic.  He presses Calum’s speed dial as soon as he gets the door open, tearing out of the parking space without putting on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” Calum finally answers.

“My fangs dropped,” he says, consonants coming out in that strange way they do when his mouth has more teeth than usual.

“What happened?” Calum asks immediately.  He knows how serious something like this can be, especially for someone like Michael, who tries so hard to avoid it.  He sniffles and blinks the tears out of his eyes so he can see the road better.  Calum’s house is close, and he just needs to get a few more blocks before he has backup.

“I was with Ashton and he cut himself on a blender.  I--we had a fight, or--I made him feel bad, in any case, and I haven’t eaten enough, and then he cut himself and I felt the fangs and ran out of there with no explanation.  He’s going to hate me.  I’ve ruined everything!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Calum says, but it’s not like Ashton is his boyfriend.  Michael doesn’t know how to recover from something like this.

Calum tries to console him for the rest of the short car ride, stopping once Michael pulls into his driveway to turn an assessing gaze on him instead.  His expression tells Michael that he’s leaving much to be desired right now.

“Alright, Mikey.  Let’s get you out of the sun, yeah?  We’ll figure this out.”

He holds out his arms, and Michael falls right into them, letting Calum lead him into the house.  His fangs still prick at his lips, a sharp reminder of everything he ruined due to one second of lousy control.

+1

The bell to the magic shop digs as they enter, and Michael pulls down his sunglasses.  Calum got him to stop crying and gave him a bit of his own leftover concoction, because he hadn’t drunk all of it due to the taste, either.  It was enough for Michael to be able to get his fangs back under control, but it doesn’t stop how miserable he feels about the way he left, or the conversation they were having beforehand.

He can’t let himself be around Ashton if his fangs are going to drop like that.  He would never hurt him, he knows that, but there’s still the potential that he can’t ignore.  Ashton’s safety and comfort isn’t something he can risk.  Even if Ashton was somehow okay with him being a vampire, they wouldn’t work.

Michael has known this since the beginning.  He let himself fall in love, anyway.

There are three missed calls and over a dozen text messages that he still has to try to answer on his phone.  There’s no way to do that without breaking both of their hearts, but Calum told Ashton that Michael is physically okay and that he’d talk to him tomorrow.  For now, he needs to sort through his own feelings and calm down, and for that they need to pick up the weekly blood supply.

“Hi!” the witch at the counter says.  His name is Luke, and Calum’s been flirting with him ever since he started working there.  It would be cute if it didn’t make these excursions so tedious, and if Michael himself wasn’t currently mourning what is soon to be the end of an absolutely spectacular relationship.

“Our usual, please,” he says curtly.  Luke glances between him and Calum, who gives a beaming smile, then heads to the back storage room.

“Maybe it’ll taste less like shit this time,” he mutters.  Calum nudges him, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the bell over the door chimes again.  Michael knows who it is before he turns around, the scent and rhythm of his heartbeat as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Ashton freezes in the doorway.  He has changed into a sweatshirt, the one he wears when he’s having a bad day because it feels like a perpetual hug without having to be touched, and Michael is probably going to cry again.  Out of the three of them, Calum pulls himself together first.

“Hello, Ashton.  I didn’t know you frequented this shop.”

“Ashton!” Luke says, returning from the back with their order in a crate.  “Did you bring it?”

Michael finally notices the tupperware in his hands when he hands it to Luke, who opens a corner and sniffs.

“You know each other?” Michael asks.

“Oh, sorry!” Luke says.  “This is Ashton, my roommate.  I’d never eat lunch if he wasn’t there to bring it to me.”

“You’re the roommate?” Michael asks.  In all of their months of dating, he never managed to meet the roommate, even though Ashton has known Calum for weeks.  Weird schedules and Michael’s aversion to meeting and possibly getting attached to more people prevented it.  Luke looks between Michael, Calum, and Ashton, and then a lightbulb hits.

“You’re Ashton’s Michael!”

“How many other vampires named Michael do you know?” Ashton asks, and Michael reels back, Calum’s hand on his spine the only thing keeping him upright.

“You know?”  Ashton frowns.

“Michael, I’ve known since the first day I met you.”

“Wh--you never mentioned it!”

“I made some references, then figured it wasn’t something you were comfortable talking about.”

“Wait,” Luke says.  “You know Ashton is a minor deity, right?”

“What? ”

Michael turns desperately to Calum, because none of this makes sense, but Calum is having some sort of silent conversation with Luke.

“You two need to talk,” he says eventually.

“I need to show Calum something in the back, anyway,” Luke says, grabbing Calum’s sleeve and tugging him around the counter, shutting the door to the storeroom behind them.  It’s not the slickest move that Michael’s ever seen, but he’s having a crisis and can’t be bothered to laugh at Luke for it.

“So,” Ashton says.  “It seems there’s been a bit of miscommunication here.”

“You’re a deity?” Michael asks.  Ashton starts to blush, which is cute.  He clasps his hands together and nods once.

“Yeah, my entire family is.  The religion died down centuries ago, so it’s mostly our belief in each other that’s keeping us alive.  I’m basically just an immortal human now, but I’ve been around long enough to recognize other non-humans when I see them.”

“And you’ve known I was a vampire the entire time?” he asks.  Ashton nods.  “Oh.”

“I thought that you knew that I knew,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Michael says.  “I thought you would hate me when you found out.”

“I could never hate you,” Ashton says, taking a step forward and reaching for him before he aborts the movement.  Michael looks at his feet and wonders if what he says next will change that.

“My fangs dropped earlier, when you cut your thumb.”  His voice is steadier than anticipated, but he can’t help but brace himself for Ashton to back away or run screaming.  He doesn’t do either of those.

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

He nods, shame pooling in his stomach.

“I was offering, you know?  I wouldn’t have minded if you had a taste.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time,” Michael says, focusing on the shame so he doesn’t do something horrible like start thinking about what it would really be like to have some of Ashton’s blood.  “I just… lost control.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let myself.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ashton says gently, stepping closer until he can put his hands on Michael’s arms, then sliding down to grasp his hands.  “Can you look at me?”  Michael tries, then shakes his head.  “That’s okay, and your fangs dropping earlier is okay, too.  You had a lot on your mind, were probably a little hungry, and I was waving my bloody finger under your nose, even if you didn’t recognize it as an invitation.  What’s important is that you didn’t try anything without asking.  You didn’t hurt me; you removed yourself from the situation.  I would say that that’s keeping things pretty under control, wouldn’t you?”

“But I could’ve hurt you, even if I didn’t.”

“Michael, you’re not a mindless beast,” Ashton says.  “The fact that you’re this upset about your body’s natural physical reaction shows that.  You’re not going to do anything to hurt someone else like that.  You have to trust yourself.”

Michael wrinkles his nose, then finally makes himself meet Ashton’s eyes.  There’s nothing but compassion there, no fear or disgust.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Ashton repeats.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Michael agrees.  “I can trust myself with that.”

A grin breaks out on Ashton’s face.

“Good,” he says.  “I trust you, too.”

“And, about meeting your family,” Michael starts.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ashton says.  “I was a little pushy.  We can talk about it and figure out something that works for both of us.”

“I was going to say that I’ll do it,” Michael says.  “Half of my worry had to do with me being a vampire and you and your family being unsuspecting humans, but that’s not an issue anymore.”

“What about the other half?”

“Just normal meeting-the-family jitters,” he says.  “They’re really important to you, and I don’t want them to hate me because I didn’t meet them earlier.”

“They won’t hate you,” Ashton says.  “You’re a delight.”

“I hope they share that thought.”

“They will.  I love you, so they will, too.”

Michael feels like he’s going to burst.  He also feels menally exhausted from this entire affair and the emotional whiplash it’s giving him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  Ashton answers by leaning forward, and Michael sinks against him, melting into the feeling.

“So,” Calum says loudly, startling them both.  “Are you guys good now?”

“What do you think?” he snips.

“I don’t know, Luke,” Calum says, turning away from Michael and towards him.  “Do you think that they’re good now?”

“They did look rather cosy,” Luke says.  “In fact, I’d say that Ashton looked ready to pledge himself to Michael as his personal blood bank.  His little ketchup packet, if you will.”

Calum bursts out laughing.  Michael tries to be affronted, but Ashton starts laughing incredulously next to him.

“Ketchup packet?  Is that what I’m reduced to?”

“There are worse titles,” Calum says between bouts of laughter.  Luke looks ridiculously pleased at this development.

“Please never refer to him as my ketchup packet again,” Michael says.  “I’m begging you not to.”

“If the fangs fit,” Luke says, which makes Calum dissolve into laughter again.  It’s not even funny.  Honestly, they deserve each other.

“Come on,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back to my place.  I want to hear all about your vampire antics from the olden days, now that I know you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Only if I get to hear stories about being a minor deity,” Michael says, grabbing his part of the blood order.  “Cal, you’re paying for this one!”

They’re out the door before Calum can protest, and Ashton puts an arm around his waist as they walk.  It’s uncomfortably sunny out, but Michael feels no rush to get back inside.  They’re both immortal, and they’ve got the rest of their lives.

#5soshalloweenevent2020 #my writing #mashton #5sos fic #this was super fun #I had a great time tbh #I like being forced to write au fics because I do so many canon-verse ones #disclaimer there is a joke at the end that I felt compelled to include #due to it being so ridiculous #but it is ainslee who originally said it. I cannot take credit :)

[carriagelamp]

April 2020 Book Review - Quarantine Brain Fry Edition

This month of quarantine was much more challenging for me that last March... I suppose because we’re really in the throws of it, and the “extended spring break” feel has worn off. Between general World Anxieties and the incredible challenges of trying to adapt my work into an online setting, my brain has been absolute mush -- and I have a feeling I’m not the only one. Most of my books this month are either very easy reads (comics and children’s novels) or rereads or both! Honestly, I’ve been playing a lot more Animal Crossing than I have been reading...

So the theme for this month of reading? Treat your brain to a rest, and go reread that favourite comic or picture book or graphic novel from when you were a kid. We don’t have libraries or book stores at the moment, so dig deep into your shelf for something you love that you haven’t touched in a while. Here’s what I read:

Ghost Hunters Adventure Club and the Mystery of the Grande Chateau

I’m going to start with best and most unexpected book that I read this month (although this is actually a New Book and not a reread, so maybe it’s a bad start). It’s a Hardy Boys parody novel, and yes it’s by the Game Grumps. The only reason I even found out it existed was because my brother heard about it and we decided that this would be our next Sibling Read Aloud. It made a great read aloud. I was rather skeptical at first, but it was genuinely very clever and very, very funny. There characters were fucking delightful, as they bumbled their way through the mystery, and we ended up accidentally reading almost half the book in one sitting because we couldn’t put it down once we got to endgame. If you like satire and Classic Youth Mystery then do yourself a favour and give this a go. I am desperate for a sequel.

ISHI: Simple Tips from a Solid Friend

A picture book that was recommended to some of the local elementary children who are dealing with isolation from school and their friends. Its beauty is in its simplicity. It shows Ishi, a very simple white stone, experience challenges that it must then find ways to cope with. Things like loneliness, feeling empty or scared, being sad... all things children (and adults, I very much appreciated this little story) may be experiencing. This is definitely a picture book, not a self-help book, but it’s still very encouraging and makes me want to go and create my own Ishi. There’s a reading of it is online, and if you’re feeling like having a solid stone friend reassure you, I would recommend going to listen to it!

Bone 1-5

So, the first in my long list of books that I reread: I’ve started rereading the Bone series for the first time in years. Hands down one of my all time favourite graphic novel series. If you haven’t read Bone, it’s a classic and one of the best example of American graphic novels imho. It’s about Fone Bone and his cousins who, after being driven out of Boneville by Phoney Bone’s money-grubbling stunts, have found themselves across a desert and in a strange, fantastical valley where nothing makes sense. The three of them get drawn into the strange mysteries and adventures of Thorn, her grandmother, and the village of Barrelhaven. Such a perfect blend of beautiful art, comedy and off-the-wall cartoon-level hijinks, as well as really intense, dark adventure and tension as the story unfolds.

Also created this sequence, which may be the funniest two panels ever drawn in a comic

Here Is Greenwood v1

A charming ‘90s manga from my stash that I decided to reread. Honestly one of my favourite feel-good mangas, because it’s such a simple, pure, good-hearted slice of life without some of the gimmicks that other manga use. It’s about Kazuya starting at an all-boys school partway into the year, and moving into the school’s dorms. The entire book is just about him being constantly pestered by the well-meaning characters that share the dorm with him. It’s just goofy and fun, and has the fantastic aesthetic of a good ‘90s manga. Also, it was one of those books that, while technically not ~queer~ was also ~queer enough~ for my deprived teenage soul.

Blood Of Elves

The fourth book of the Witcher series that I’ve finished. I’ll be honest, not my favourite. I really enjoyed the beginning, the whole espionage thing with Dandelion, and then Ciri with Geralt, the Kaer Morhen witchers, and Triss. That was all really fun. It felt like it dragged a lot more though after Ciri joined Yennefer... And yet I love Yennefer as a character, she is hilariously snide and clever and really sweet with Ciri. But it felt like a scene that could have been done in a couple chapters took up half the book. Maybe that’s just because, as I said, my brain was mush and I couldn’t deal with it. I have the next book and as soon as my brain doesn’t look like chicken noodle soup anymore I will be starting it!

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You know I love a good animal adventure story, and this is one that I adored as a child. The story of Ralph, a young mouse living with his family in a rundown motel, and how he and a young human boy discover that they can understand each other through a shared passion for vehicles... in particular a red toy motorcycle. There’s just something heartwarming about Ralph racing around a motel on a tiny toy motorcycle that runs when he makes motorcycles noises. I’ll have to find the second one as soon as libraries are open again.

Kit: The Adventures of a Raccoon

Another animal adventure story from my childhood, although this one is more of a chapter book than a true novel. This is a book that I’ve been lowkey hunting for years and finally came across in a school library. It’s a more realistic look at what a raccoon’s life is like, from birth to adulthood. Rereading it, it’s not a particularly exciting book and wouldn’t have otherwise stood out to me, but there’s still something that calls to me. It’s very gentle and makes this raccoon’s growing and learning feel very soft and compassionate, even if there are tragedies and death.

A quick edit because it was only just now that I realized that this is a Canadian lit book! Always exciting to discover that a favourite is Canadian!

Calvin and Hobbes: Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat

Calvin and Hobbes, yet one more bullet to add to the list of Comfort Comics that I’ve pulled out to keep my mind entertained while I can’t quite process Proper Novels. I doubt there’s anything I can say about Calvin and Hobbes that hasn’t already been said. You’ve either read these books already, and are nodding along with  me, or you haven’t and therefore are not a human being I can relate to.

Spy vs Spy

I dug out some of the old Spy vs Spy comics we had as kids. They’re basically falling to pieces, but it was fun -- like so many other books on this list -- to revisit something so familiar but which I haven’t looked at in years. These were a very odd experience to reread, because on one hand Spy vs Spy comics have such a simple, goofy premise it’s hard not to just grin and laugh while you read them, but also like... yup they sure are old and kinda ~problematique~ eh? Whatcha gonna do.

The Twisted Ones

The read aloud my brother and I did before Ghost Hunters, although we technically finished reading it at the very end of March, but too late for it to make that book roundup post. Look, I’m not going to defend myself here. Yes, I’ve read an obscene number of Five Nights at Freddy’s books. The first one of this series The Silver Eyes was honestly better than I would have expected. This sequel was not as good, unsurprisingly, but the main character is still so fucking bizarre, so different than the sort of protagonist I would normally expect from a series like this, that I can’t quite bring myself to stop reading them. And when I had a moment of Realization, about what might be in store for the third book, I genuinely screamed at my brother who was reading at the time. So yes. Somehow this youth horror is better than it has any right to be -- not good but better than it should be -- and yes I will be reading the third the second the libraries open again.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

Another reread! This was a book I got as a birthday present when I was in... probably preschool? It’s a cross between a large picture book and a chapter book. It’s essentially a “novelization” of the original Disney movie, and it has such cute art to go along with it. Winnie the Pooh has always been a favourite of mine, and reading this old book was like a warm hug. Makes me want to see if I can get my VCR set up so I can watch that old movie again...

Frog and Toad Together

A friend found someone reading this book in a very asmr-style on youtube and recommended I listen because they found it super chill. And they were right! It is ridiculously chill. I’ve never read a Frog and Toad story before, but it’s really just a very cute old book that immediately launches you right back into grade one.

The BFG

This is my first time reading the BFG and it has all of Dahl’s usual charm and quirkiness. A young girl gets plucked out of an abusive orphanage by the Big Friendly Giant, who brings her to the terrifying Land Of Giants... all of which are bigger and crueller than the BFG, and who have an appetite for human flesh. It was quick and fun, and it’s always hard not to fall in love with Dahl’s sweet characters, especially this big eared, dream-catching giant.

#book review #book reviews #april book review #roald dahl #bfg #fnaf #the twisted ones #calvin and hobbes #bone comics #winnie the pooh #disney #beverly clearly #the mouse and the motorcycle #the witcher #blood of elves #ghost hunters adventure club #the ghost hunters adventure club and the secret of the grande chateau #manga #90s manga #here is greenwood #spy vs spy #mad comics #shirley woods #frog and toad #picture books #novels #graphic novels #chatter #canadian literature #canlit

[a-deadly-serenade]

The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 8: She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724856?view_full_work=true

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The warm months of summertime slowly began to cool, an early warning of fall slowly creeping in with her long, colorfully chilled breaths. You had picked up on the crispness to the air, an icy feeling settling into the back of your throat as you trekked to the greenhouse especially early the following morning.

Plants that preferred the warming months were starting to become especially stuffy about the noticeable frostiness of the breezes that funneled through their leaves and branches.

Pots of large, lush saragundi would cry out for your help if one of the windows was open near them, their feather-like leaves quivering from the cold. The neem trees that were potted not too far from them, would grab at your arms, and ask you to use that spell again, just one more time!

You would shoo them away, and tell them that they had to stop being so dramatic. If they couldn’t deal with a little cold, then they would be of no use to you; you needed strong, resilient strains that would only grow more potent with each generation.

That usually shut them up.

Actually, you began to note that most of the plants had started trying to lure you in for some extra attention ever since you had shown them all that spell. You had simply hung moon and sun stones all around the greenhouse, and then uttered a quick health and harvest spell that would amplify the rays! They thought that you were the one who always blessed them with just the right amount of sunshine or moonlight. No matter how often you pointed to the stones that twirled above your head, they would write those off as decoration-- not that they didn’t enjoy them though, they were awfully pretty!

You knew that you would get side-tracked from your original purpose when you finally entered the greenhouse. Once the plants sensed that it was you that had walked in, they knew they could begin their griping and whining about whatever it is they needed, because you would always do anything they wanted. It was a little frustrating at times, especially when you really needed just one trimming or one jar of herbs, as you did now. It would really put a dent in your schedule.

You needed to start being more firm with them.

As you continued to shove past extended branches and clingy vines, you picked up on the sound of laughter and excited chit-chat. Craning your neck in the direction of the tiny voices, you noticed that you were standing beside one of the fairy gardens you had helped set up.

There was a group of four fairies playing and lounging on large brown mushrooms with domed tops. Their little hands were cupped around the heads of lily of the valley that they used as goblets, sipping daintily on the fresh water that streamed down like tiny waterfalls from the aqueduct. Others played amongst the plush moss and tiny flowers that bloomed near a small puddle that had formed from many rains ago. They twirled the flowers in their hands and made tiny crowns with the moss.

It was a charming scene, but you realized that none of these fairies were Aria, so you felt a little awkward just standing there and watching them.

One of them finally noticed your presence, her big, honey colored eyes looking up at you. She had deep red hair that was pulled up into a bun on the top of her head. She wore golden earrings that sparkled with tiny sapphires. She had golden gauntlets as well, and her dress pooled at her feet, a beautiful white top that faded into a rich red. Her wings looked like butterflies, well, if butterflies had translucent wings.

She flew up to you, a curious look on her face as she assessed you. “Hmm…���

You lean forward a bit, and offer the palm of your hand out for her to stand on. “Um… hello…?” your meek greeting certainly made you cringe, but you hoped that you hadn’t somehow offended her in any way, what with the critical look she was giving you.

“Are you the girl that Aria’s been telling us about? Lisa’s student?”

“Uh… uh…” you stuttered. “Yes, that’s me.”

Did she really know who you were?

She gave a quiet hmph, and put her hands on her hips. “You do not appear as ‘splendid’ as Aria has been toting that you were.”

A lump settled into your throat as she said this, and you suddenly felt very self-conscious. You had tried so hard to make peace with the fairies that lived here… you wanted to be friends with them, to see if you could work with them in producing some especially formidable healing magic. But hearing what this… rather haughty fairy had snarked your way, honestly stung your pride a little.

“Well… I…” you fumbled over your words, face turning red from either embarrassment or anxiety, you couldn’t tell. “If there was something I did… I just-- I just want to apologize--”

“Oh there is nothing for you to apologize about!”

Another fairy, with short blond hair that curled into a cute bob, drifted swiftly through the air on the back of a newly plucked caladium leaf, of the fancy variety too! She had large, icy-blue eyes that sparkled in the morning light, a big, friendly grin on her face. She wore a cute white top and light blue shorts, some tiny golden ankle bracelets jingling softly as she jumped up and down excitedly.

“Don’t listen to cranky old Athena over here!” she shouted, and stuck her tongue out at the red-headed fairy.

Athena gave an offended gasp, her wings fluttering quickly as she bristled with anger. “How rude! I cannot believe you would say such things to me Livy!”

Livy, the little one that had come to your rescue, only continued to stick her tongue out at Athena, even adding her hands on the sides of her face in a mocking jester.

It was obvious that she had to be much younger than this Athena character, her behavior was even a little jarring for you.

“Now now, what is all of this commotion!”

A fairy with lilac colored hair tied into braids flew into the scene, her pale arms folded across her chest. She groaned, and rubbed her dark blue eyes, her massive amount of hair swaying alongside her as she flew beside Livy. It was all tied back by an elegant blue ribbon, one that matched in color to the beautiful dress that covered her tiny frame. The very tips of her wings seemed to curve in, almost forming a heliocentric shape, and bright purple fairy dust rained around her feet as they fluttered quickly in the air.

“Athena was being rude to the nice lady!” Livy pointed to you, and this new fairy gazed up at you as well.

This was quickly becoming too much for you to handle, and you could feel your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in as more fairies became aware of the situation. You would have acted upon said instinct as well, if this new fairy hadn’t replied,

“Athena, how many times must we tell you that she is genuine! Do I need to go and fetch Lockette so that you can get a quick refresher?”

At the mention of this ‘Lockette’, Athena stiffened, and she gave you a quick (but rather forced) bow, before she flew away, her grumbles lingering in the wind as she disappeared into the plants.

The fairy that had scared Athena away gave a quiet cough into a tiny handkerchief, before looking up and offering you a smile.

“I am terribly sorry about that, usually I am the one to greet anyone that may happen to stumble upon our tiny village. My name is Tune, it is a pleasure to meet you.” she gave you a curtsey, and you suddenly felt very awkward.

This was… unexpected, to say the least.

“I um… I appreciate you helping me out. I… didn’t really know what to say to her,” you admitted, feeling a little dejected.

Livy flew up and landed on your shoulder, giving a harrumph. “Don’t you listen to a thing she said! Athena can act so mean sometimes!”

“Now Livy, there’s no point in getting all up in arms over this. It was dealt with, there’s no point in lingering in the past,” Tune said.

Livy blinked, before the tip of her nose turned pink, her eyes downcast. “I mean… yeah, but she didn’t need to be so harsh to this nice lady! She’s done so much for us!”

You gave a bashful smile, and gently stroked Livy’s head with the tip of your index finger. “Thank you, little one, but I haven’t done that much--”

“Nonsense!” Tune interrupted. “This greenhouse is brimming with magic! I can’t remember the last time I felt such strong energy flowing inside these plants. Our magic is the strongest that it has been in years!”

You were astounded. You looked down at your hands, and flexed your fingers. Had you… had you transferred more of your magic onto these plants than you thought? I mean sure, you had used a couple simple spells here and there, but… there was no way that’d be enough to assist the fairies as well.

“Aria was right!” Livy exclaimed, which made you glance over at her.

“What? What did she say?”

She flew off of your shoulder, and hovered right above the tip of your nose. “You really underestimate yourself!” she bopped your nose with her finger, and you felt the undeniable prick of magic when she did that.

“I… I had no idea,” you said.

Tune gave a firm head nod in agreement to Livy’s statement. “You’ve really been such a wonderful addition to this garden.”

You definitely felt your heart tug at that one.

She gave you another kind smile, and then winked. “If you ever want to talk to us, we’re usually in the rose bushes near twilight, playing with the fireflies. I’m sure Aria will want to see you, as well.”

“Thank you… I… I will definitely accept your invitation. I will see you tonight, then,” you waved at the two of them as you gathered your things (and what you had come in here for in the first place), and made your way out of the greenhouse.

The sun was now high in the sky, and you decided that it would be best to head inside and grab some breakfast before finally meeting up with Adrian for your first day in combat training.

To be honest, you were a little nervous. You weren’t usually a very confrontational person, better to keep it to yourself than burden your feelings on others--

Huh, that thought seemed to call you out more than you’d like it.

Anyways, you never thought to be aggressive in situations, you learned that it never really solved anything to act out in a rage. And the only experience you had with anything remotely looking like a sword, was the knife you used to cook, and the various tools you used in gardening and medicine.

You hoped Adrian would be a good teacher… you could get frustrated at new tasks, and did not accidentally want to snap at him for something as silly as sparring. You huffed, and drew your cloak tighter around you as you walked up the stone path that lead to the backdoor.

The white doves instantly started cooing and flocking around you when they recognized your presence, but you shooed them away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them today.

Pushing open the door, you pull back your hood and toss the cloak onto a nearby chair. You were wearing a white top with sheer sleeves that rested delicately on your shoulders, and a pair of loose, worn, comfortable brown trousers. You realized that morning that your undergarments had to be especially supportive today, and made sure that your chest was bound a little more tightly than usual.

Your black flats were silent as you trekked across the plush floor of the hallways, the possibility of missing breakfast urging you to go faster, because you did not want to start the day on an empty stomach.

The scent of fresh baked bread kindly greeted your senses, and you let out a delighted hum as its warmth seeped through you. Walking into the kitchen, you find that Lisa has just taken a loaf out of the oven, the rest of the breakfast options already laid out on the table. There was yogurt, made fresh from the village, and butter as well, along with an assortment of vegetables from the local market.

Vlad sipped on a strong cup of coffee, and nibbled on some salted tomatoes while his son ate the yogurt he had helped himself to.

“Oh! There you are!” Lisa exclaimed, as she shuffled over to the table, bread basket in hand. “I went to go wake you, and you were already out of bed! I assumed you just went to the garden?”

You nodded your head and took a seat beside Adrian. “Yes, I’m… I’m sorry, I should have told you that I went there.”

Lisa waved off your concern, and cut off a slice for you. “There’s no need to worry about it, my dear. It tickles me how dedicated you are to your work.”

The bread was still warm, and it heated up your slightly chilled skin as you held it within your grasp. You grabbed your knife and started spreading blackberry jam on top, before you gave a slow nod. “Yeah… I… I guess I can get too carried away sometimes.” you took a bite, and then poured yourself a cup of orange juice.

You swallowed, and then grabbed a couple spoonfuls of the strawberry yogurt. It wasn’t like you could admit that you gone there so early because thinking about a certain dream had practically kept you up all night.

“Hmm… yes,” Vlad mused, as he sipped his coffee. “You’re quite the avid academic.”

You smiled, but it did not reach your eyes. “Thank you… I guess I’ve just always been fond of learning.”

“Well, it’s certainly intriguing that your interests can also lie in something much more physically demanding.”

You frowned, and wiped away a glob of yogurt that had missed your mouth after hearing what Vlad said. “What are you talking about?”

He blinked, confused, and then points one of his long nails at his son. “I thought Adrian had agreed to teach you how to properly use a sword? Was I mistaken?”

A flush crept up your neck, and you grew embarrassed that his parents had managed to find out about your little deal. Well… it’s not like you couldn’t guess who had told him, what with the shit-eating grin that was currently on his face.

You couldn’t believe him!

It was then you realized that you hadn’t answered Vlad’s question, and you divert your eyes away from his practically cackling son to say, “No… no you are correct. I just… I just didn’t expect for Adrian to tell the two of you.”

“It’s not as though I had promised not to,” Adrian replied, as he took a bite of his bread and butter.

Ooh, sometimes you just wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face--!

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Lisa said, which snapped you out of your enraged reverie. “If you ever need tips about anything, you can come to either of us for advice.”

“Wait…” you started, and then your eyes widen. “I can come to either one of you?”

“That’s what she said,” Vlad replied. “I would think a woman such as yourself would not be fazed by the knowledge of my dear Lisa being skilled at the blade.”

“Oh… oh, well, um, no… that’s not what I meant!” you fumble over your words, but one kind smile from Lisa is all it takes to settle your rampant heart. “I…” you take a deep breath. “I just… was surprised is all, especially after making acquaintance with said sword.”

Both of his parents heads swivel to look at Adrian, their eyes widened just slightly. “You showed her your familiar?” Lisa inquired.

Adrian looked at them both, and took a sip of his tea before responding, “Of course. She’s met all of them.”

“Even Matthias?” Vlad spat, and made a crude noise. “Pah! I’m sorry you had to put up with that fool.”

You laughed. “Oh… well, I’ve heard worse, although it certainly did take me by surprise.”

“What exactly did he say?” Lisa asked after her husband.

“He asked me if I had sipped on any blood lately,” you chuckled, and swiped off a stripe of jam off of your bread. “Cuz I’m a witch, see?”

Lisa rolled her eyes, and reached over to put two sugar cubes into her coffee. “I try my best to be patient with him, but it’s even a hassle for me.”

“If he’s so terrible,” you comment. “Then why even have him as a familiar?”

“He was cursed,” Adrian replied. “Wherever it was he served as King, one of his final acts was condemning a woman to be locked up in a tower and she cursed him. She proclaimed that his soul shall only find rest after serving a family of vampires for one hundred years. It was something she added in as a special touch, considering rumors had floated about around her being a vampire-- which were completely untrue.”

“How did you even find him in your care?” you were all too interested to find out more about this ghost.

“He had been living in my castle for about… ten or so years before I met Lisa?” Vlad recalled. “I had not personally interacted with him all that much, but my old librarian friend would certainly remind me of how much of a headache he could be sometimes.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who’s head he wants to bite off.”

“Don’t worry about him too much, Adrian’s other familiars are much sweeter!” Lisa cooed.

“Oh yes!” you said in agreement. “Cereza was especially sweet to me when I met her. Oh! And Hatred gave me some sort of card?”

“A card?” Lisa echoed.

You could not tell if she appeared at all unnerved by this information, and took a sip of juice to calm your nerves. “I… well, I’ve never really interacted with demons before, so I just took it. Was that bad?”

She turned to look at Vlad, but he did not appear at all worried. “Fret not, it’s just a simple calling card. All you must do is project your location onto it, and Hatred will appear to assist you in whatever way he can.”

“He did say that’s all it was,” you mumbled, as you remembered that adventure you and Adrian undertook together in the caverns beneath the castle.

“Yes, he’s harmless,” Vlad insisted, and carved off three thick pieces of dried sausage, and then popped one into his mouth. “So when do you think you’re going to begin her training?”

He was looking at Adrian, who peered over beside you. “We can start immediately, if that’s what she wants.”

You felt your heart rate pick up again, and you quickly scarfed down the rest of your bread and juice. You wiped off your top lip, and shook the crumbs from your shirt as you got up out of your chair. “Then let’s go!”

Adrian blinked up at you, and then quiet chuckles tumble from his lips. “I see your fierce dedication does not only lie within the realm of academia either.”

“Once I’ve set my mind to something, there’s no going back,” you stated firmly. “Are you prepared to teach me?”

His eyes flashed dangerously in the low light, and caused a chill to run up your spine. “Now, I appreciate dedication, but there’s no need to get cocky.”

Your cheeks heat up again, and all you can do is start walking out of the kitchen as Adrian follows you and instructs you how to get to where it is he practiced.

“Those two are certainly quite the pair.” Lisa quietly whispered to her husband, a coy smile on her lips.

“Yes… quite the pair indeed.”

                                           ____________________

Adrian walked ahead of you, his quick footsteps hardly making a sound as he lead you down hallways and down several flights of stairs. When he pushed open a large wooden door, you discover that the floors are no longer covered in long, red carpet, but instead, are covered in beautiful marbled tiles.

This entire stretch of the castle seemed to be completely decorated with marble, save for the large, bronze statues of elegant Grecian women that lined the corridor. It was impressive, how every single one of them was different, from their facial expressions, to their hair, down to even the tiny details on their outfits.

You hear Adrian call after you when he noticed that you’d straggled behind his swift pace, and you quickly jog over to catch up to him.

“I was just admiring the sculptures,” you said.

“I know, but we don’t have that much time. My mother wants the two of you setting out to Lupu just before mid-day.” he explained, and gave an irritated sigh when you got distracted by another piece of artwork.

You couldn’t help it, this castle was almost like it’s own personal gallery with how much art decorated its halls. But this one especially… it was a massive painting that nearly took up an entire wall.

A bizarre depiction of an ancient Greek civilization with temples and pantheons, was overrun with the dead that had been killed by winged skeletons wielding scythes. People cowered in fear below the most ominous figure in the painting, a terrifying skeletal figure with boney wings and a cloak of darkness that seemed to swallow the sky itself.

The hollow pits of its eyes seemed to draw you in, coaxing out the primal fears that you had long since forgotten, the kind that you would leave swirling deep within the recesses of your mind. It was almost as if… you could hear the very faint whisper of your name emanate from its menacing mouth, and you felt unable to move, as though you had been frozen on the spot by its deadly gaze.

Adrian calls your name again, and you feel as though you’ve been pulled out of a fog, and you suddenly feel dazed and confused. That had been so strange…

“Are you just going to stand there all day, or are we actually going to get some practice in?”

Your eyes linger on the painting for another brief moment, before you pull away and join Adrian at the top of a long, winding set of stairs that he promised would be the last you’d need to descend.

The walk down was a lot longer than you had anticipated, and you nervously followed close behind Adrian, who lit the way ahead with the torch that he held in his hands. You were worried that you might trip, the steps were small and the staircase spiraled down to the bottom, but you were too prideful to ask for Adrian to slow down or… goddess forbid, hold his hand.

So you held your tongue, and put all of your focus to reaching the bottom, and once you finally made it, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

This area of the castle was certainly the strangest part you had ever been in. It appeared much… older, with its stonewalls being weathered and covered in scrapes and deep, jagged cuts. Large, crossed iron spears stood behind a brazier torch, and as you continued walking deeper into this place, you noticed that there were several stone carvings on the wall of a warrior, a gladiator by the looks of it.

The massive hallways seemed to shrink as you hopped up a small set of stairs that lead up into a large arena, torches burning with bright blue flames illuminating the place. There was no doubt in your mind that you currently standing inside of a massive colosseum, in awe of its large marble pillars and the rows and rows of seats that curved around the battle arena.

It made no sense for something like this to be here, but you thought back to the intricate series of underground caverns that you had explored a few weeks ago, and came to see that this castle was a lot more impressive than you thought.

“This… this is where you practice?” you said, finding it hard to hide your shock.

Adrian nodded, and made his way over to the rack of weapons that stood nearby, easily picking out his from the rest of the stack. He unsheathed his sword and grabbed a firm hold of the hilt, letting it rest against his side as he moved over to let you inspect the array of blades available.

As you looked over the line-up, it became very apparent that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing. You had never used a sword in your life, so you hadn’t the slightest clue on where to start in order to find the right blade for you. All of these looked much too long for you to be able to confidently control, not that you were too confident in the first place.

After a few more moments of silence, you finally admitted, “I… don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for here.”

Adrian hummed to himself, and then started gracefully circling around you with his long, lithe legs. Admittedly, it made you a little nervous, since it felt as though he was scrutinizing every little thing about you.

A breath you don’t remember holding slipped past your lips when his attention went back to the swords.

“I use a longsword,” he explained, and rested part of his blade in the palm of his hand. “It’s double-edged, and with it being so long, it makes it easy for me to attack foes that are wearing a full set of armor. However... ”

He grabbed one that was much smaller, but the blade was much wider than his own sword. He twirled it easily with his free hand, and placed the hilt within your hands. “This, should do nicely. It’s called a falchion, and think it similar to a dagger, in which it is one-handed, and can be easily controlled.”

You took the sword, and lets its weight rest inside your hands. It was heavy, sure, but… You took a firm grip of the hilt and sliced through the air a few times, and you slowly grinned at how effortless it felt.

“Yeah,” you said, and looked up at Adrian. “This’ll do.”

He gave you a smile in return. “Excellent. Now, I would like to see your form.”

“Uh…” you chuckled, and cocked your hip out as you leaned on one side of your body. “My what?”

“Your form.” Adrian repeated plainly, although it appeared as though his meaning was still lost on you. He sighed, and snapped his fingers as he tried thinking of another word, “Your form… your stance-- the way you hold yourself in a fight.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. You suddenly felt very awkward, as you stiffly moved your limbs around to show off this stance of yours, which really ended up resembling more of a strange crouch.

Adrian raised an eyebrow at your display, and you immediately felt your face flush out of embarrassment. It wasn’t your fault that no one had taught you how to properly present yourself, you were a healer not a fighter!

“Well, you’re not entirely incorrect. But, I do suggest straightening your back up a bit more, it’s going to help absorb a lot of the blows. Same with the knees, I would straighten those up a bit as well.”

You took his advice, but by the look on his face, you could sense that he was still unimpressed by what he was seeing. “Why don’t we… why don’t we just try? So you can see my fighting style?”

“I’m not going to start until you’ve improved your form, I don’t want you unnecessarily hurting yourself,” he stated.

“How do you know what I need to improve on unless we actually try fighting?” you countered, hands on your hips.

Adrian was silent for a moment, but then nodded his head. “Very well. For the sake of practice, you will turn around and we shall each take three steps. Once I am done counting, then it is fair game to make your move. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” you said with conviction, and raise your sword to rest against your chest, emulating the position that Adrian had taken.

“On the count of three,” Adrian declared.

“One,”

Your heart began to race, and you took a deep breath in order to calm your nerves. Sword fighting couldn’t be that complicated, could it? Surely you would be able to figure it out.

“Two,”

Your mouth felt dry, but you had to keep reminding yourself that Adrian was not going to hurt you, he was there to teach you! Plus, you don’t think Lisa would be all too happy if her apprentice got injured during sword practice.

“Three.”

You spun on your heel and found yourself face-to-face with Adrian, who had swiftly lowered his sword.

Neither of you moved, and as you continued to stand there, an awkward laugh threatened to escape because you were so unsure as to what to do.

“Anytime you want to strike--” your words were cut short as he charged towards you, and you barely had enough time to raise your sword and parry the blow.

Your feet fumbled in the dust, and you were pushed back a couple inches from the force of his attack. You heard the whoosh of steel cutting through the air, and clumsily side-stepped to avoid getting stabbed in the stomach.

“Hey! Watch it!” you cried out, and blocked another two blows. The way you held your sword was quickly becoming less favorable by the minute, and you cringe as you felt your right arm sting from what could only be a sore muscle.

You attempt to slash at Adrian when he gets too close, but he easily maneuvers out of the way, and the last thing you remember is him spinning around in front of you, before landing onto the ground with a loud oof.

As you grumbled about your sore behind, you freeze when the sharp pointed steel of his blade presses against the column of your throat. All you can do is stare up at him, wide-eyed, as he withdraws his sword and plants it firmly into the dirt.

“You need to pay attention to an opponent’s feet, as much as their hands,” he said, and offered his hand to help pull you up.

Begrudgingly, you take it, and rise to your feet, pride a bit more scorned than you would have liked as you dusted off your pants. “There was no need to show off…”

“Show off?”

“You could have at least gone a little easier on me!” you cried out. “I nearly tore a muscle with how hard you were swinging that thing,” you continued to grumble to yourself as you rubbed said shoulder and put away your sword.

“But… I was going easy on you,” Adrian walked over and gently placed a hand on your sore shoulder. “You’re just not used to moving your body this way.”

You gave an irritated sigh, as you tried not to snap at him. It wasn’t his fault, well… mostly.

“Yeah, sure, you’re right… I just need to practice more.”

You felt dejected, and told him that it would just be best if you stopped for the day, noting that you should probably head back up to begin preparations for that afternoon.

After putting away his sword, Adrian lead you out of the colosseum, the walk back to the castle quiet and a little tense. The higher you climbed, the guiltier you felt for getting so agitated at him earlier. He was trying his best, and you shutting down was not going to exactly help your cause.

When the two of you exited the marble gallery, he gave you a polite curtsey before taking the split path and disappearing down another part of the castle. Your heart ached, you could sense that you had hurt him somehow, but… you had to get ready, your first day as Lupu’s newest doctor started today.

You pulled open your bedroom door and grabbed a hold of your bag, shifting through its contents to assure that nothing had fallen out the night prior. Everything you needed had already been packed, since you hadn’t had the chance to use any of it after retiring so early.

Jars of tonics and vials full of herbs clinked around inside as you raced downstairs to meet up with Lisa in the castle courtyard. Upon exiting, you find Lisa tying provisions to the back of her horse, Cinder, who whinnies as you approach.

“Ah, perfect. You always seem to show up just as I need you,” she said, and gave Cinder a scratch behind his ear. “I sent Adrian to go and get Clara for you, and I’m going to need you to carry that bundle over there-- seems I’ve overloaded Cinder.”

The horse gave a flick of his tail, and nudged Lisa with the tip of his snout. You could guess that Cinder was more than a little grateful that he didn’t have to carry all of her cargo on his own.

You picked up on the sudden sound of hurried footsteps, and from the corner of your eye, a big white blur emerged from the side of the castle, and out came Clara with Adrian trailing behind her.

When her round, black eyes landed on you, she slowed down to a trot, and let out a loud puff of air, head lowered so that you could stroke her mane.

“How cute,” Lisa cooed. “It makes me so happy how fond she already is of you.”

You moved some of her mane away from her eyes, and gave her nose a good scratch. “I’m grateful as well. I know all too well how much of a nuisance it is to ride a horse that does not like you in the slightest.”  

“Oh?”

“It was one of my grandmother’s horses, a great big black stallion that hated everyone but her.” you chuckled as you recall the memory. “Brutus, was his name. He made sure to make every trip to the village an absolute hassle.”

You looked down at Clara as she grazed at the grass around your feet, and gave her two pats on the back before hauling the supplies up to tie behind your saddle. “This little one has definitely redeemed horses for me.”

“I knew she would be a good fit for you,” Adrian said, as he finally caught up to Clara. He gave his mother a wave as she sat upon her horse, and he listened to her recount what it is you’d both be doing today.

As you prepared to hoist yourself up, you felt something tug at your heart again. You fidgeted with the straps around the bundle of blankets and towels that you wrapped up, thinking over your words, before you turned around and called out, “Adrian?”

He slowly faces you, hands behind his back as he waited for what it is you want to say.

“Um… would you like to meet up again tonight? Once I’ve returned from the village?”

His eyes widened slightly, and his lips curved up into a smile, and your heart fluttered when you picked up how much happier this request had made him. He grabbed hold of your hand, and kissed the top of it, like he always did.

“I would be delighted. I shall… see you tonight, then?”

You nodded, and pulled yourself into your saddle, a little breathless after noticing that Lisa had been watching the two of you. As you waved him goodbye, your mind stubbornly reminded you that you had to see the fairies, or else risk another night of restless sleep.

It’s alright… I’ll just try and make it back around before sunset, you thought.

It was a nice compromise, for even if you practiced for awhile, you would head to the garden at just around midnight, when the moon would be nice and high in the sky; a perfect time to run into magical folk.

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or are your cheeks flushed a rosey red, my dear?”

Lisa’s lilting voice snapped you back to reality, and the question just made your face heat up even more.

You looked away from her, looking straight ahead in an attempt to hide your growing embarrassment. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her delighted laughter rings all around you, and you sulk into your seat. You just hoped that the clinic would be busy enough so you wouldn’t have to discuss your complicated feelings for her son.

                                               ____________________                                                        

The sun was high in the sky by the time the two of you pulled up to Lisa’s cottage, the bustling sounds of Lupu from below the hill allowing for a pleasant buzz to ring throughout the area. You both descended from your horses and got to work untying and unraveling the bundles of supplies that you’d brought from Castlevania.

While Lisa was inside, restocking shelves and making sure that everything was generally in order, you tended to the horses, and gently removed the bit from their mouths. They both gave an appreciative whinny, but Clara stayed around a little longer to get a few more pets in before she galloped after Cinder, who was currently trying to snatch a low-hanging apple off of a nearby tree.

You patted your hands down on your pants, and headed inside to unpack your own bag. It wasn’t much, and you handed Lisa the vials of fresh herbs that you had picked this morning, and she accepted them with an elated thank you.

Next, you pulled out a copy of Herbarium, a notable piece of text that you had been astonished to find within the medical library. It was one of the few existing works that detailed many of the viable herbs that you could find in Europe, and it also described their identifiers and even offered simple recipes. You had also brought along a copy of Maior’s Opera Medicina, Magnus’s De Vegetabilibus, and various incunabula on herbology-- not to mention, all of your own personal notes. Although you were certain that you’d do fine today, it was nice to have something to lean back on if you ever felt a little overwhelmed.

You hadn’t been sitting down for more than a minute before the door was already pulled open, and in walked the butcher, Petre.

He was a large man, someone you instantly knew had been a warrior sometime in the past, with his square shoulders and big buff arms nearly the size of logs. He was a bit older, and bald, the greying of his prickly beard being one of the few indications of his age. His apron was already speckled with blood, from what, you could only guess. He held two dead roosters in one of his hands, while the other arm was cradled against his chest, a dirty cloth wrapped around his forearm.

When he noticed you, he gave a delighted cry and walked over, his heavy footsteps making the wooden floor creak and groan out in discomfort. Petre slammed the chickens down on the table, a bundle of feathers erupting off their corpses.

“Thought you might enjoy these for lunch, seeing how you just arrived. A little ironic that the butcher is the one who needs looked at for a wound, eh?”

You looked at the two dead birds on the table and swallowed, unprepared for such a bizarre...  gift. You offered him a shy smile, and urged him to sit in the chair beside you so you could look at his wound.

Petre lets out a low hiss as you peeled off the cloth, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why did you put such a filthy thing on your cut?” you scolded, pouring some hot water into a bowl.

“It was the only thing I had on me,” he replied. “At least it managed to stop the bleeding!”

You frowned, and gently began to wipe away at any dried blood or dirt that remained. “Next time just wash your hands and use that to cover it before coming here.”

He laughed, but nodded his head in understanding. “Will do lass,” he said, letting out an alarmed cry when you dabbed on some ointment.

“Quit your cryin’,” you snapped, and continued applying it until you were satisfied. Grabbing some clean cloth from a fresh bundle, you wrapped it tightly around his arm and tied the ends together when it had been properly bandaged. “That should do it.”

Petre flexed his arm a bit, testing the durability of the wrappings, and then offered you a kind smile. “Thank you, lass. I will try and be more careful today so as to try and avoid getting more of that ointment rubbed all over me!” he gave another hearty laugh as he bid you farewell, leaving you with the two chickens he had gifted you and Lisa.

You picked them up by their feet, and moved them to hang beside the fireplace so that you could wipe down the table; it was frankly unsanitary having them so close to your workspace.

Cupping your hand at the edge of the table, you collected all of the stray feathers and tossed them out of an open window. You could hear Lisa walking out of her lab as you washed your hands, and you chuckled at her reaction of finally noticing the chickens.

“I see that Petre has already been here.”

“Yes,” you said, and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out several knives and a bucket. “If you want, I could clean off these birds while you attend to patients?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you grabbed them and began to head out into the backyard. “If you ever need me for anything, just call for me and I’ll make sure to scrub off any chicken guts.”

Lisa laughed and gave you a kiss on the cheek, a gesture that filled you with warmth and appreciation. “Will do.”

You spent a good hour or so getting the chickens cleaned, gutted, cut, and washed, with intermittent breaks where you would assist Lisa with a patient. The day was going by smoothly, and after cooking up a quick meal of chicken and rice for lunch, you spent the rest of the afternoon tending to whoever and whatever walked through that door.

Several expecting mothers had come in for their monthly checkup, while other mothers pulled their rowdy children inside, complaining about bruises and scuffs after the latest skirmish. Farmers had bandages replaced, and fresh wounds tended to, with a few receiving tonics for some persistent coughs.

A handful of elderly townsfolk had stopped by as well, including Miruna, who had come in for a refill of mullein that Lisa had been prescribing to help her breathing. She was a sweet old woman, and as you ground up herbs for her, she recounted about the ‘healers’ they had here in Lupu before Lisa had become a doctor.

“We had an old wisewoman,” she said. “Who turned out to be an absolute scammer! She sold powder to people as a medicine, but it turned out to be her dried foot skin!”

“Foot skin? ” you blurted out, almost knocking over the contents inside the pestle from shock. “She gave you foot skin?”

“Aye!” Miruna replied. “I don’t know how we managed without doctor Tepes. And with two excellent healers in this town, I’m sure we don’t have to worry about any sort of maladie anymore!”

You gave her a kind smile, and handed her the mason jar filled with mullein. “Pour this in with hot water as you would any other tea, and make sure to drink it twice a day-- in the morning, and right before you go to bed. That should help with the irritation you’ve been feeling as the days get colder.”

“Thank you so much, I’m so happy that doctor Tepes has such a wonderful assistance to help her.” her old eyes crinkled with another big smile, and she waved you goodbye as she left the clinic.

It felt nice to be given the opportunity to use the information you’ve learned to help people. Even though everyone at your coven said that you were destined to be a healer, it made you feel proud, as though you were finally honoring all of them working here in Lupu.

“You’re a natural at this,” Lisa said, from the doorway of her office. The sleeves of her light-blue dress were rolled up past her forearm, and she had a white apron wrapped around her waist, dotted with stains. “The way you’ve been handling patients is almost as though you’ve been doing it for as long as I have.”

Her comment made you blush, and you smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Lisa… I just, I don’t know, I just feel so comfortable here…” your voice trailed off for a moment, and you seemed lost in thought. “My… my family said that they knew I would make a wonderful healer someday, that that was the path I would follow throughout the course of my life. Being here, with you, and being able to see my talents actually help people-- well, it’s been amazing.”

Lisa’s bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the windows, and her pink lips were curled up into a grin. “I am so happy that I’ve been able to help you achieve this sense of accomplishment,” she walked over and reached out her hand to give your shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been such a welcomed addition into our lives.”

You choked up a bit as she said this, and laughed to try and prevent any tears from actually falling. “Thank you, Lisa. Thank you… thank you for giving me my life back.” you got up from your seat and pulled her into a tight hug, and you felt content, and you felt complete.

The rest of the afternoon practically zipped by as you and Lisa continued to tend to the villagers that visited the clinic. You recognized most of the people that came by, and it was interesting to interact with them in a completely different setting.

Valeria had stopped by to pick up an ointment that Lisa handmade herself, a lotion made of aloe and honey that helped to treat any patches of dry skin. Marian had dragged her sister Lorena in to visit, after she had managed to pick a fight with a rather feisty young buck who had gotten trapped in one of her snares. Diana stopped by as well, and while she had originally come by to stock up on some rubs that would treat any burns Marius sustained during his work, she ended up sticking around for an hour or so, chatting with both you and Lisa as the sun started to set behind the mountains.

Throughout the day, you had managed to stop yourself from slouching as much as you usually did. You realized after having sparred with Adrian, that you had gotten into the habit since you spent so much time reading at a desk, or crouched over plants as you gardened. As you and Lisa bid farewell to your final patient of the night, it appeared as though your diligent self-coaching had worked, for your back was substantially less sore.

You stretch your arms a bit, reveling in the momentary silence, before you grab your bag and start packing up for the trip back home.

“I’d say today was a success, wouldn’t you?” Lisa inquired, as she wiped down the table and used the leftover water to douse the fire.

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “I’ve learned so much, even after just one day. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.”

“I can’t wait either,” Lisa replied, and followed you out of the clinic. She locked the door with a quiet click, and adjusted the bag on her shoulder as the two of you mounted your horses and began your trek back to Castlevania.

                                           ____________________

The ride back was uneventful, but peaceful. By the time you had arrived at the castle, the sun had long since set and the moon was slowly rising into the sky. There was a chill to the air, one that made you tighten your cloak and goose pimples erupt on your skin. You were grateful to go inside, and Lisa told you that she’d take care of putting your things away, and said that you should help yourself to any food in the kitchen.

You weren’t that hungry, but you needed to eat something before rejoining Adrian for practice. You were surprised to find a small spread on the kitchen table of breads, meats, and cheeses, and you made yourself a sandwich, sipping on some red wine as you scarfed it down.

“I see you’ve made it back home.”

Nearly choking on your food, you cough into the crook of your arm to stifle the sound of almost hacking up a lung. You whirled your head around to find Adrian leaning against the marble countertop, a smirk on his face.

“Do you get some sort of enjoyment out of scaring me?” you asked, and grabbed a handful of grapes from a golden bowl.

“Whatever made you think that?” he replied.

You sighed, and got up from the table to join him where he stood. “Just a hunch,” you said, as you narrowed your eyes slightly at him.

He chuckled, and craned his head closer to you, golden eyes glittering in the candlelight. “How was your first day as a proper assistant?”

You smiled at him, and propped yourself up onto the counter. “It went very well, actually. Your mother tells me that I’m a natural at being a healer.”

“That’s no surprise,” he said. “But how well did you get along with the patients?”

“I hadn’t a single complaint. They treated me as though I had been their physician for years.” you playfully shoved him when you noticed him roll his eyes, obviously trying to feign offense at your jab at his inexperienced people skills.

“You just wait till you get someone coming in asking for powdered horse dung to treat an infection, then we’ll see how they feel about you.”

You threw your head back and laughed, which caused your hand to slip a bit on the smooth marble. Your fingers grazed against Adrian’s, and your eyes snapped open to glance over at him. It appeared he noticed as well, his gaze lingering on your hands, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn that he inched closer to you, but you quickly pulled away and nervously swept some hair out of your face.

Your body leaned away from him, ever so slightly, and you awkwardly cleared your throat to break the tension that had filtered its way into the room. “Well… uh, I guess I’ll have to hope I never encounter someone like that.” you hopped off the counter and quickly ate the rest of your grapes, tossing the stems into a nearby bucket used for compost.

A hush fell between the both of you, one that made your nerves stand on end and caused you to fidget uncomfortably where you stood. You needed to say something… something else, to try and change the subject, this silence was stifling.

“Sorry, do you think that--”

“Forgive me, but how about we--”

The two of you stared at each other, but then joined in soft laughter after interrupting one another.

“We’re both acting pretty ridiculous, huh?” you asked, arms folded across your chest.

Adrian gave you a smile, and nodded his head. “I suppose we are.”

You hummed to yourself, and took a few tentative steps closer to where he stood. “I guess I should follow through with that offer I made you this morning, and head down to the colosseum to practice?”

“Oh yes,” a sense of relief washed over him at your suggestion, and the two of you made quick work traveling down to the ancient battle arena.

This time, you were determined to prove to Adrian that you were capable of doing this… even if fighting with swords still made you a wee bit nervous. You firmly grasped the hilt of your blade, and took deep, calming breaths as you heard Adrian count down from three.

When you turned to face each other, you were prepared to block a direct, oncoming blow, but instead, Adrian had put one arm behind his back and was effortlessly sporting the weight of his sword with his other hand. He made no effort to approach you, much to your dismay, so it seemed it landed on you to make the first move.

You made quick strides across the dusty floor and positioned a strike aimed at the side of his body. This was easily parried, and every other attempt you made at hitting him were stopped dead in their tracks. An irritated growl rumbled low in your throat, so you decided to go for another tactic.

You recalled the move that he had used on you this morning, so you thought that it was time to test it out yourself. As you directed your blade to stab him in the chest, you stuck out your leg and spun around, hoping to knock him off balance and gain the upper-hand.

Brilliant as you believed your plan was, it did not go as planned, and Adrian vanished before your very eyes as he transmuted to your right, where you were barely able to block the long swing of his sword.

“That’s cheating!” you exclaimed. “You never said that we could use magic! ”

“Yes, well, fights are hardly ever fair, small lady.” the bluntness of his tone certainly made you take a few steps back, but you had little time to think of some witty comeback as he continued his attack.

As the two of you went on with your sparring, you began to doubt if this had been a good idea. Adrian seemed to think that pushing you like this was the best way to achieve any sort of results, and although you were familiar with the concept of ‘tough love’, you knew that this was not helping you improve in the slightest.

A particularly powerful blow caused your arm to throb in pain, and as you backed away to catch your breath, you mumbled, “Stop.”

“What?”

You stared him down, sweat dripping down your back as your eyes narrowed slightly out of annoyance. “I said stop.”

Adrian’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, obviously surprised that you wanted to quit practicing so early. “Is something wrong?”

You scoffed. “Something wrong? You… you keep berating me!”

“Berating you?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, and waggled your finger at him. “‘Straighten out your back’, ‘No, your posture for a stab is completely off’, ‘Don’t just focus on my sword’... will it ever cease?”

He was silent, and lowered his weapon before planting it into the ground. “I thought you would benefit from criticism--”

“Adrian,” you began, and sounded completely exasperated. “How am I to improve any of these things if you don’t teach me how to properly do them!”

“I just thought--”

“I told you that I have never fought with a sword before,” you said, and shook your own blade to emphasize your point. “So charging at me like I’m an experienced warrior isn’t exactly helping either.” you sighed, and run your fingers through your hair. “Maybe… maybe I should just call it a night.”

As you made to put away your sword, Adrian grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you to a stop. You were angry, frustrated, and tired, but the way he said your name made you pause, and you decided to at least hear out what he had to say.

“I’m…” his voice trailed off, his hand gently squeezing yours as he turned you around to face him. “I… apologize, if I’ve been too hard on you. I should have realized sooner that all of this would have been too much for a first day.”

You chuckled. “You think?”

He tugged you closer to him, your hand sliding out of his grasp as he walked around to stand behind you.

Your heart began to race when you felt one of his hands on your hips, the other resting on the small of your back. “What…” your voice was quiet, soft, like a whisper in the wind. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you fix your posture,” he replied, and eased you into a more suitable position for fighting. “That’s what you asked me to do, is it not?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, startled that he had taken such an intimate approach. “Oh… right, yes, I did.”

A shiver ran across your arms when you felt his hands trail up your body and rest on your shoulders, where he helped adjust the way you held your weapon.

“Does that feel better?”

You were certain that your face was as red as a ripe tomato at this point, and you felt his own heart beat gently against the dip of your shoulder blades. After several failed attempts at forming a sentence, you managed to squeak out a, “Yes… thank you.”

The warmth of his embrace fizzled away as he went over to pull his out his sword, and he took up the same stance that he had been using earlier. “I promise that I will not be as… unrelenting this time. I underestimated my own strength and… I should have been more understanding of your learning style.”

You looked down at your sword, and felt a fire light in your heart, a new sense of determination burning in your eyes as you looked at him. “Thank you, Adrian. I think… I think I’m ready to try again.”

He nodded his head, and even though he still charged at you, the weight behind his attacks were far less strenuous than before. You made note of the way Adrian had shown you to hold yourself, and after getting the hang of it, you could not help but smile at how much easier this all felt.

“That’s it,” he said, a grin slowly forming on his own lips. “You’re doing much better.”

He continued to encourage you as the night wore on, and he easily picked up on how well you responded to these affirmations, making a mental note to keep that in mind for future sessions.

Personally, hearing him praise you on your improved efforts made you feel ten times lighter, and although you still had a long way to go, you knew that significant progress had been made tonight.

Adrian drew the practice to a close when you found yourself with the edge of his blade against your throat, but this time, you laughed and admitted your defeat.

You wiped some sweat away from your brow, panting from exertion as you followed behind Adrian to sheathe your weapon. “I think that was a pretty successful practice,” you said, and gave him another smile. “Thank you… for not giving up on me.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he replied. With a flick of his wrist, his sword slid itself back into its sheath, and he smirked at you. “It’s actually quite impressive how much you’ve improved.”

“What can I say?” you gave him a smirk of your own. “I’m quick to pick up on things-- especially when I have such a good teacher.”

“Oh really?” he smiled, and his fangs glowed an eerie white under the hue of the bright blue flames. “You’re a fast learner, you say?”

“Call it whatever you like, it’s the secret as to why I’ve always been such a good academic,” you teased.

“Well, that certainly leaves me wondering on what other secrets you will reveal to me as we continue to spend more time together.”

Your laughter slowly fades away as you both look at each other, and your heart starts to hammer inside your chest when you pick up traces of pink in his aura, circling around him like the thick clouds that dot the sky during a sunset.

The language… the voice calls out to you, and your gaze subconsciously flicks down to gaze at his lips, before going back up to eyes… those beautiful golden eyes. At times, you felt almost like you were drowning when you stared at him for too long, losing yourself within his sea of liquid gold.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and slowly leaned in closer, the whisper of your name invading your every sense.

It’s as though you had been rudely awakened from a dream, and you draw away from him when you realize just how close he had been… he had been to--

“I…” you lose your voice as your throat closes up, feeling so ashamed for interrupting such a perfect, tender moment. “I think… I think I should head to bed.”

All at once, his eyes cloud over, and he backs off, the hurt in his expression palpable. “I… see.” he curtsied, and he politely smiled, but you knew that he did not mean it. “Get some rest. I will… see you tomorrow.”

“Yes… tomorrow.”

He gave you one last parting glance before exiting the colosseum, and when you were certain that he had gone, you let out a loud, frustrated groan.

“Why… why is this something that I have to worry about?” you muttered to yourself. “I just… I just wanted to be a healer, to be Lisa’s apprentice…Why did you have to go and... ” you pinched the bridge of your nose, and although your mind was going a million miles per minute, it was about time that you visited the fairies.

The bright white moon welcomed you into the courtyard, the faint glow of an occasional firefly lighting up within trees, helped illuminate the path that lead beyond the greenhouse and into a small alcove filled with flowers.

Large willow trees swayed gently in the soft breeze, and you felt several of their long, tendril branches graze against your arm, as though welcoming you to this place. The smell of roses and honeysuckles warmed your chilled bones, and you gasped once your eyes landed upon a bush of common night glories-- also known as moon flowers.

Finding a comfortable spot in the grass, you let your fingers delicately trace the contours of their soft petals, overjoyed to have found them shortly after blooming.

“Beautiful, are they not?”

You jump, frightened by the sudden sound of their voice, before you realize that it’s a fairy.

A trail of red fairy dust sprinkled down from her green, iridescent wings as she flutters before you. She had gorgeous rich blue eyes, and long, fiery red hair that was decorated with tiny flowers. Her dress was a light pink, with red ruffles at the top, and her skin was a soft amber that complimented her hair.

You nodded, and gave her a smile. “Yes, they are. These happen to be one of my favorite flowers.”

She smiled at you, and flew over to sit on your knee. “They are pretty, but I think roses are my favorite flower.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s the fairy of love.”

From the bushes emerged four more fairies, Livy, Tune, Aria, and one other that you were not yet acquainted with.

She had short, purple hair that was cut into a bob with bangs. Her eyes were a startling green, and you noticed that even her eyelashes were the same color as her hair. She wore a long, laced pink dress, and had large blue wings that curved into swirls at the very ends. In her hand, she held a tiny scepter that turned into the decal of a butterfly at the top, and you could instantly pick up that she was much different than any of the others that you had met.

Aria and Livy were the first to branch off from the group, excited to see that Tune had indeed not been lying about you promising to visit them tonight.

“It’s so nice to see you again, small lady.” you said, and popped the tip of Aria’s nose.

“It has been awhile, hasn’t it?” she said, and put her hands on her hips. “I trust that you and my master aren’t getting into too much trouble?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it trouble.” the fairy dressed in pink cooed.

You looked down at her, confused. “What does she mean?”

“Oh that’s Amore!” Livy replied excitedly. “You don’t have to worry about her like you did with cranky old Athena. She’s the sweetest fairy I know, which makes sense for being the fairy of love.”

“Love?” you repeated, and then laughed. “Well that’s… interesting.”

“Interesting indeed,” Amore agreed, and took off into the air, hovering just above your chin. “I can see into your heart, my dear. It’s… very confused, but, it beats for one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You would do well to not ignore what Amore tells you, my dear.”

All the fairies went silent as the one with the scepter flew up to you, her face stern, but eyes laced with understanding. “The path to your heart, it seems… clouded, as though you are preventing yourself from coming to terms with your feelings.”

You grew nervous, and your eyes darted away from looking at her. You had come here seeking advice on a dream, not to get read for filth about your complicated emotions…

“I…” you began, but were interrupted by Tune flying over and clearing her throat.

“Lockette, please,” she said. “It’s clear that this discussion is making her feel unwelcomed.”

The fairy before you, Lockette, took in Tune’s council and nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, I can see that now. I apologize for being so fortwright about things you wished to keep hidden, my dear.”

“Oh…” you began. “I… well, I don’t-- I…” you sighed, and brought your knees up to your chest. “It’s… not your fault. I… I just haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“Hmm,” Lockette hummed. “I sensed just as much.”

“What’s been bothering you, dear?” Tune inquired.

“Well it all started when I had this… strange dream the other night.”

“Dream?” Aria repeated.

“Yes… I had been walking through these woods. They looked like no other forest I had ever been in before and yet… there was a sense of familiarity. I… I sensed the spirits of the forest there, walking amongst the trees.”

“The spirits?” Lockette appeared surprised. “They showed themselves to you?”

“No… um… sort of. It was strange… it’s as though they were leading me through these woods, and shortly after, I found myself in a clearing, face-to-face with a big white wolf. I pet him, and snuggled up next to him, but when I opened my eyes, he was gone, and in his place, was a red hibiscus.”

The group went quiet, and the five of them fluttered around you, as though taking in everything that you had just said.

“A white wolf… you said?” Aria asked, the first to break the silence.

“Yes. Is… that relevant?”

“Oh!” Livy chimed in. “I think I remember seeing a big white wolf walk through the forest a few times!”

“She’s right!” Tune concurred. “I’ve seen it too! But… what does that beast have to do with you?”

You sighed and flopped down to lay on the grass. “If I knew, do you think I’d be coming to you for advice?”

“I suppose not,” Tune replied, and sat beside you.

“You mentioned a flower,” Lockette said, and flew over to join Tune, the other three following her. “What did you say it was again?”

“A red hibiscus.”

“Oh, dear,” Amore gasped. “You know what a red hibiscus means in the language of flowers, don’t you?”

The language…

“What did you just say?” your head whipped over to face Amore, your heart pounding in your chest as that voice spun around inside your head.

The language… the language…

She smiled up at you, and with the snap of her fingers, a red hibiscus had materialized from a burst of magic. “A red hibiscus,” she said, and flew up to rest the flower into the palm of your hand. “In the language of flowers, it means that you’re in love.”

You sat up, the flower tumbling into your lap as you did so. It felt as though you could hardly breathe, as though you were suffocating, but the reality of it all was staring you so plainly in the face, that it was as if you had just been pulled out of a dense fog.

Sure, the symbolism of the wolf didn’t yet make much sense, but…

You picked up the flower and spun it between your fingers, a shy smile on your lips.

“I can sense that you’ve opened up your heart a bit more, my dear,” Lockette said, and landed on your shoulder. “But… there are still doors that require the correct key to open them.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lockette shook her head, her expression soft and eyes twinkling with a wiseness even beyond your years. “It is not my place to say. You will find out in due time my dear. For now, I am happy to see that at least one of these keys has been found.”

Her attention focused on the hibiscus, and you let out a dreamy sigh.

“There’s no need to act so proud,” Amore teased, and lovingly gazed down at the flower. “It’s okay to have feelings for someone. It’s okay to be in love.”

“Love, huh?” you repeated, and brought the flower up to your nose so you could give it a sniff.

You laid back down on the grass, the fairies chatting and playing around you, with the hibiscus resting above your heart.

At least out loud… I won’t say I’m in love.

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard fahrenheit tepes #alucard tepes #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes #lisa tepes #vlad dracula tepes #reader #female reader #original female character #original male character #original characters #alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard/reader #alucard tepes/reader #adrian tepes/reader #fan fiction #multi chapter #romance #fantasy #the shield and the sword #chapter 8 #she loves me she loves me not

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Nine

Word Count: 5 684

It seemed as if after the incidence with the stolen bus, fate seemed to have turned around for you. Most of the drive was during the night, Bill driving, and later Lucas. It felt good to be sleeping in your own bed again after all the excitement during the past days.

It amused you, yet let your heart swell, when you realized that by now you had taken the bunk bed on the bus as “your own bed”. It gave you the feeling to have grown into the team even more.

When you woke up in the morning, the bus had already parked at the venue, and the rest of the day went by as all the other days, which you had spent preparing concerts.

But the concert that night was different from anything you had ever experienced. It was not only the crowd, all of them well aware how lucky they were that the bands had gotten their equipment back, and therefore celebrating even harder than any crowd before.

It was also the musicians on stage.

Jay had a wide grin etched into his face the entire time, and even Dallon, who preferred wearing his cool stage persona mask, could not help but break into happy smiles time and time again.

It was a relief to see everybody so happy and grateful for this unexpected bit of luck, which the crew seemed to have caught, and for a while you even forgot that you were not doing so fine yourself.

After the show, everyone helped clearing the venue, and loading the bus. Dallon and Ryan used the time to meet fans, sign autographs, and take pictures. Whenever you walked past them, carrying a heavy box filled with cables, or a case holding instruments, Ryan’s eyes quickly met yours, and he shot you one of his beautiful smiles before he turned back to the person he was talking to.

After the bus had taken off, this time it was Lars who had to drive, everyone else met in the small lounge area. You ended up squeezed between Luis and Lisa, both of them laughing happily, and you felt like tonight you were stuck in a bubble of happiness, of carefreeness. Even the heavy and suffocating feeling around your heart which you had noticed acting up during the day was gone all of a sudden, and you were more than willing to make the most out of the time without the dark shadow over your head.

It had been a couple of days, if not longer, since all, or rather most of the crew had come together, just for the sake of having a good time.

The “Three Beats” had, in a fit of party spirit, bought snacks and sodas for everybody, successfully catering the little get together. In the end you were not even really sure what everyone had been talking about. All you remembered were that at one point Bill had declared his undying love for his younger brother Charlie, and then almost got into a fight with Luis, who insisted he loved Charlie more. The most amazing thing about the interaction was that neither of them had been drunk, or on any drugs, for that matter, yet everyone felt high on the endorphins that were still flooding through their systems.

It was about two in the morning, when the bus pulled to the side of the street and came to a halt. Most people considered this the signal to go to bed, but you were too bubbly to be even thinking about sleep. So, pulling on a pullover and your shoes, you climbed out of the bus, deciding you needed some fresh air.

The landscape was barren, not much to see, especially at night. The bus had halted directly in front of a huge bridge, which immediately drew your interest towards it. Slowly, lazily rather than carefully, you walked onto the bridge. The balustrade was broad, almost three feet, making it hard to look over the edge to see what was right beneath you. From what you could tell, it crossed a wide, but not deep valley.

In the silver light of the slim crescent moon, you saw a small brook run along the rocks and sand, bushes and flowers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The question startled you, but almost as soon as your mind had processed the words, you recognized the voice to be Ryan’s. You turned to him and smiled gently.

“Very,” you agreed.

“I love empty landscapes at night,” he confessed, propping his hands on the balustrade, and lifting himself up, until he was seated on the broad, metal railing. “It makes everything seem so far away, as if nothing could ever come and catch me.”

“Like running away, but not really having to,” you mumbled.

You leant your elbows on the balustrade, and rested your chin in your hands.

For a while both Ryan and you were listening to the sounds of the night, to the gentle wind in the dry bushes, to the crickets in the grass. The headlights of the bus had been turned off, and the road was deserted, no cars approaching, not even in the distance.

“Join me?”

You looked up at Ryan, who had turned to look at you, holding out his hand for you to take, offering you to sit next to him. Imitating his actions from earlier, you climbed onto the balustrade, and settled down, dangling your feet off the edge, just like he did.

“If you would have told me that I spend the night sitting on a random bridge somewhere in the nowhere two months ago, I would have told you that you confuse me with somebody else,” you randomly mentioned, wondering about your life back then.

Right now it seemed impossible that your real life, your everyday life was at an office, with regular working hours, a home you returned to every evening, and a restaurant where you picked up your food at least three times a week. It seemed so boring, and you wondered how you had been able to stand it for so long.

Ryan did not respond to your statement, only hummed in agreement. He sat so close to you that you could feel his jacket brush against you every now and then, and sometimes he shifted a little, until he eventually sat so close to you, that your knees were touching. He leant back, leaning on his hands, head in his neck, and looked up to the sky.

“Sometimes as a kid I wondered if anybody ever tried counting the stars,” he remembered, making you smile.

“Did you? Try to count them, I mean,” you asked.

“No, or rather, well, yes, but I gave up at about twenty,” he told you, making you giggle. “Hey! At least that was the moment I knew that there were more than twenty stars!”

“How much did you freak out when you found out that not all of these dots in the sky are stars, but also planets and galaxies and moons, or just some space station,” you wondered laughing.

“A lot, I guess,” he replied, turning to look at you.

You had leant your head back as well, looking into the cloudless sky.

“Do you think there is life out there?”

He gave your question a few seconds of thought before answering.

“Not the kind of alien life as we know from movies, if that’s what you mean,” he contemplated, “but just considering how many galaxies are out there, and all these galaxies have so many solar systems… I mean it’s unlikely that there isn’t anything out there. And if not now, there definitely will in the future.”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s what I think too,” you agreed.

After a few moments of silence, you turned to look at Ryan. The silver light of the moon made his skin look pale. His eyes glimmered in the dim light as he looked up at the sky, marvelling at the wonders of nature, and his hair, reflecting the white light on the blue strands, was hanging into his neck.

When Ryan noticed you were watching him, he sat up straight, and looked back at you.

“Everything alright,” he asked concerned, making you smile.

“Yeah, I just- I’m fine,” you answered, tearing your gaze away from him.

Slowly you started to feel cold. The clear night sky allowed the heat of the day to escape into the vastness of space, and you started to feel tired, adding to the slight shivers that ran down your spine.

“I’m getting cold, I think I’ll go back to the bus,” you eventually announced, even though you wished the moment would never end.

“Here, take this.”

Quicker than you were able to register what he was doing, Ryan had taken off the leather jacket he was wearing, and had pulled it over your shoulders. Immediately the warm and familiar smell of him engulfed you, and you would have almost sighed at the comfort it brought you.

Scooting even closer to you, Ryan wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and pulled you into his side, resting his chin on top of your head.

You had expected your heart to do some sort of excited cartwheel or something, but instead, you felt yourself relaxing against him. He was so warm, and you could hear his heartbeat. With Ryan you felt safe, even when you were sitting on the balustrade of a bridge. With him you were safe. Sleepily you closed your eyes.

~*~

After the night you had spent on the bridge, it felt like the relationship between Ryan and you had started to shift. Insecure gazes and nervous smiles turned into comfortable winks and relaxed conversations. There was a tension between the two of you, had been for a while now, but it felt as if both of you had acknowledged the mutual attraction at the same time, turning the “if” into a mere question of “when”.

Personally you were not really certain what exactly it was, that followed the “when”, was it a confession, a kiss, a relationship even? But you tried not to overthink it too much, and instead to go with the flow.

And it was a nice flow, it was refreshing and exciting, yet safe and just perfect, and you did not mind it anymore that Ryan’s chocolate brown eyes, and his breath taking smile drew you in closer and closer, day by day.

It was a lovely Thursday afternoon in Des Moines, Iowa, the first week of September. The insufferable hot weather had given way to warm days, and refreshing nights, and you found yourself enjoying the change. Finally your clothes were not sticking to your body anymore as soon as you left the bus and took a step outside, under the clear blue sky. Instead the warm air gently engulfed your body, promising to take you to amazing places.

So it was understandable that Dallon and Ryan felt repulsed to spend the afternoon in a radio studio to give an interview, but they had little say in the matter. Lucas had offered you to join them, so you could take pictures for the band’s social media, and the radio company, as soon as they realized you were a photographer, immediately asked if they could have one or two pictures for their website.

You had never been in a radio studio before, so you were quite excited when the young man, who had picked you up at the entrance, lead you to the studio. Admittedly it was less cramped than you had imagined. The room you had been lead into was not the recording studio yet, but a control room from which you were able to look through a huge window into the studio, where a moderator was just announcing a traffic jam. He was standing at a table, eyes fixed on one of two screens, speaking into a microphone. To his left, a wide window let in the sunshine, and a few plants were lined along the windowsill. As far as you could tell there was a sofa next to the door, and a coffee machine stood on a sideboard in the corner of the room.

When the moderator was finished with the traffic announcement, he looked through the window and waved his colleague to come in, who encouraged Dallon, Ryan, and you to follow him.

After everyone had introduced themselves, the moderator, a middle-aged man called Joseph, explained what kind of questions he was going to ask, and how Dallon and Ryan had to speak into their mics.

You spent the few minutes standing around in the background, soaking in this new environment curiously. Joseph explained that while they were playing music, everyone was able to talk freely in this room, but as soon as he turned on the microphones, everything they said would be sent out on air.

While the men were discussing a few more details you started photographing. At first you captured the studio, then you took a few snaps out of the window, before turning to your friends, and focusing the camera on them. After all, it was you job to document them most of all.

After a couple of minutes, Joseph gave the signal that he wanted to go on air, and everyone except for him, Dallon, Ryan, and you left the room.

Joseph did some cheerful announcement, introducing the band, and telling the listeners a little bit about the band’s background before he started with his questions. In the beginning they were like pretty much any other interview questions, asking how tour had been so far, what show had been the most fun to play, and which songs they enjoyed playing live the least.

“Now, a big part of the tour, which most people never get to see, is being carried by your crew, right,” Joseph asked, making Dallon and Ryan nod violently.

“Of course, without the crew, there’d be no tour, we’d be lost,” Dallon agreed.

“So how many peeps are you on tour with?”

“Ahm, it’s the two of us, plus “Three Beats”, Lucas, our tour manager, Lars, who does the lights, Lisa, who sells merch, (y/n) for photography, and Bill, who is basically the girl for everything,” Dallon listed, counting along with his fingers, “So ten people.”

“Is that a lot?”

“For a band our size, yes,” Dallon laughed, “We’ve also been touring with just two other people, that worked too. Having a person just for lights, and our own photographer is real luxury already!”

“And I heard (y/n), who by the way is kneeling on the floor by the window taking pictures of us right now, was a last minute addition to the team, is that right?”

This time it was Ryan who answered. “Yeah, Martin, the photographer our label had assigned us, broke his arm two days before we took off, so we needed an emergency replacement.”

“And, is she doing a good job,” Joseph asked grinning, making Ryan and Dallon laugh.

“Definitely,” they booth agreed in unison.

“She’s taking really amazing pictures every night. Actually all the pictures on our band’s Instagram page, since the beginning of tour, have been taken by her” Dallon added.

“And she puts up with our bullshit, which means a lot,” Ryan laughed, sending you a wide grin, that you returned, while you captured his expression on your camera with the slight pressing of a button.

“You gonna keep her then?”

“If they let us, of course,” Dallon shrugged smilingly.

“Oh that’s no problem, we’ll just kidnap her,” Ryan joked, making everyone in the room giggle.

“Totally, that’s a deal,” Dallon agreed.

~*~

Several days and shows later, on Sunday, you found yourselves in Colorado Springs. The weather pretty much was still the same, sunny, warm, and perfect for an afternoon in the park, but as almost every day, work was calling. With a small sigh you left the later summer air, and stepped into the hotel, where Lucas was already collecting the keys and making room arrangements. Since there were four rooms, he decided the “Three Beats” should share one, while him, Bill, and Dallon would share the other room with three beds.

“And I guess that leaves (y/n) with Lisa,” he threw you a key with a tag, “And Lars with Ryan.”

You nodded at Lisa, as if to agree on the arrangement, but she did not see, instead she was sharing a glance with Lars before her attention directed itself to you, and she walked over.

“Hey,” she greeted, and you could tell immediately that she was about to ask a favour, “would you mind sharing a room with Ryan, instead of me?”

You shrugged, pretending to be indifferent towards that suggestion, but in reality your heart had started speeding up. In all of the five weeks you had not shared a room with Ryan yet, and immediately your mind came up with all sort of unlikely scenarios that would end up with you and Ryan getting together.

“Great,” Lisa handed you her key, and snatched the other one from your hand.

“Have you asked Ryan?”

As much as the idea excited you, it also scared you a little. Never before had Ryan and you been practically forced to spend several hours alone, even if they would be spent sleeping, and for some reason it felt as if your brain was already searching for ways out.

“He’s fine with it,” Lisa grinned, and turned around, walking straight over to Lars.

For the rest of the afternoon, your mind continued leading you back to the different possible and impossible scenarios that might occur later in the night. Would you find the courage to tell Ryan how much you liked him? Would you manage to steal some cuddles, like you had done earlier on tour? Or would he not like any of this? Would he be upset that he had to share a room with you?

~*~

It was supposed to be a show as any other so far, yet something seemed off that evening when you got out from backstage where you had spent the rest of the afternoon working on the photos, distracting yourself from your thoughts.

There seemed unusually few people around. From what you could see, it seemed as if only the first few rows, maybe thirty, or forty people, were filled. Furrowing your eyebrows, you climbed over the barricade to take a glimpse into the foyer, where the merch was being sold. Barely anybody seemed to be around.

You started feeling uneasy, and pulled out your mobile. Ten minutes until the “Three Beats” would go on. Where was everyone? Turning around you, spied Lars, who also had taken a look at his wrist watch. When he noticed your helpless and confused glances around the venue he waved you over.

Following his invitation, you leant against the console to be able to understand him better over the sound of music that was playing from the speakers.

“Why is it so empty,” he asked, leaning in to speak closer next to your ear.

“I don’t know! Is the show starting later today?”

He shrugged in response, so you turned away, desperate to find out why there were so few people, compared to all the other shows so far. The venue was not even filled to a quarter.

Flashing off your backstage pass to the security guard at the barricade, you climbed back over, and almost ran into Bill, who fanatically was punching his thumbs against his smartphone screen.

“Why are there so few people, where is everyone,” you asked, starting to feel panic rising in your chest.

You did not want the bands to see how empty the hall was. How would they feel if they saw that barely anyone had shown up?

Bill was quiet for a few seconds, still tapping on his screen. A deep sound, a mixture of a suppressed scream and a growl escaped the young man’s throat, and for a moment you got scared you had been too noisy, but then he basically pushed his phone into your face.

“We sold 50 tickets,” he told you, holding the screen so close to your nose that you had to lean back in order to read it properly. “50 tickets sold, out of 300.”

Taking the phone out of his hand, you took the time to read through the statistics that were displayed on the screen, and Bill was right.

You could tell he was bursting, uncertain what to do, when suddenly an idea came to your mind.

“Tell the people at the entrance not to check for tickets anymore, we’ll invite people from the street,” you suggested, handing the roadie back his phone.

At your suggestion he perked up.

“To fill the room? That’s better than having the bands play in front of an empty venue. Let’s do this. I’ll talk to security; you go and invite people in. Go!”

Nodding, you quickly climbed over the barricade yet again, and ran through the hall and out of the door, not caring about your camera punching into your side with every second step. Outside you stopped. The air had cooled down drastically since this noon, and you almost felt cold in the shorts you were wearing.

Looking around your heart sunk. This venue seemed to be in a part of town where people did not spend much time outside in the evening. A single car came down the street, but nowhere were any pedestrians in sight. But you had to find at least a few people somehow. So you looked down the street. A restaurant, a wash saloon, a bar and a gas station were in sight. And maybe you would find something else in one of the smaller streets.

As quickly as possible, you crossed the street, and speed walked to the restaurant. Taking a second to calm down, you pushed open the door. Inside it smelled of delicious food, and the golden light of candles welcomed you. Walking up to the counter, you smiled at one of the waiters.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying to sound as relaxed as possible, “I’m from the venue on the other side of the street, and there is a free concert tonight, and I was wondering if I could quickly tell your guests, in case anyone is interested.”

The waiter eyed you, the way your slightly sweaty strands of hair were sticking to your forehead, the shaved side, the camera around your shoulder.

“You can make a general announcement, but I would like you not to walk from table to table. Our guests come here for a good time, and we don’t want them to feel bothered during their meal.”

Eagerly you nodded.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, before clearing your throat.

Damn. You were probably the worst person to do something like this. You had never been the most outgoing person, and speaking to a whole restaurant filled with strangers, asking them to come do you a favour, was definitely not your thing. But here you were so you might as well do it.

“Hello everyone,” you spoke up, swallowing as all eyes in the room suddenly focused on you, “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, but I would very much like to invite you to a show tonight, in the venue on the other side of the street! Entry is free for everyone, and there will be two life bands playing music for a few hours. If you feel curious, or want to mix up your evening, feel free to come over! We’re looking forward to seeing you there. Thank you for your attention!”

The looks that were thrown your way said more than a thousand words, and before you could feel embarrassed about what you just had done, you quickly walked over into the bar, repeating the game. In the wash saloon, you invited an elderly woman, who only laughed, as if you had told her a joke, and a young man, who only rolled his eyes. The gas station was, apart from the petrol pump attendant, entirely empty. Unluckily the small streets were deserted as well, no restaurants, no bars, no anything.

Your heart was beating anxiously as you walked back into the venue. Almost one and a half hours had passed since you had left there, all the time spent walking bigger and bigger circles through the streets surrounding the venue, but it was as everyone had decided to leave the town all of a sudden.

When you walked through the doors, you already heard Dallon singing. And the hall was still more than half empty. At the very back you spotted some middle aged men, who you recognized from the bar, but other than that nobody seemed to have taken up your invitation.

With shaking fingers you turned on your camera, and started snapping pictures. Both Dallon and Ryan on stage seemed not to mind that there were barely any people around. They made their music as always, pulled off their show as they were used to. But you knew them so well by now, that you noticed the lack of cheerfulness in Ryan’s drumming, and even Dallon’s overly confident stage persona seemed a little off today, but only to the trained eye. You were amazed how they pulled off the show, not at all seeming intimidated by the lack of people. Dallon even came off stage as he always did. But it felt strange none the less.

How bad it really was, you only figured out once all of you were back on the bus. The moment the door closed behind Dallon, the happy smiles in honest joy over the fans that had said their good byes, fell away, leaving behind a group of beaten people.

The “Three Beats” were used to the fact that barely anyone came to see them, but they felt terrible for Ryan and Dallon anyway. After all, the duo was headlining. Almost every evening they had at least two hundred people singing their songs back at them, and tonight, only a quarter of what they had hoped for had turned up.

Lucas was driving the bus back to the hotel, so it was impossible to say what kind of expression he was wearing, but Bill, Lars and Lisa all looked as helpless as you felt. You desperately wanted to cheer your friends up, make them laugh, smile, or at least distract them somehow, but anything that came to mind felt inappropriate.

Dallon was sitting in his seat, holding an envelope he had been giving and stared off into the air, while Ryan was clinging to a sheet of paper, on which someone had painted a beautiful portrait of the drummer. He was holding onto it so tightly that it started crumbling under his fingers, but you did not dare saying anything. Instead, unable to stand the tension any longer, you turned your head and looked out of the window.

Back in the hotel, everyone went back to their rooms without saying good night. You had been secretly looking forward to this evening the whole day since Lisa and you had changed rooms, but now you were insecure about what to do.

You had hoped to maybe steal some snuggles from Ryan, but now you were scared to even talk to him. He was quiet, did not even look at you once during the entire time, and while you knew it was his way to deal with the disappointment, you would have understood if he snapped at you.

When you stepped into the room, he walked over to the king sized bed and flopped down on it, face first. Standing in the room for a couple of seconds you decided to speak up eventually.

“Do you mind if I shower first,” you asked, and when you got no reaction, you decided that he seemed not to care.

A cold shower later, which rinsed off all the sweat and dust of the day, you already felt a little better. But Ryan was still lying on the bed when you walked back out of the bathroom.

“The shower’s free if you want,” you offered.

Not making a single sound, Ryan got up from the bed, and grabbed a small bag, which probably contained shampoo and all the other things he needed in the bathroom. He did not look at you once before he closed the bathroom door behind his back.

Sighing you sat down on the bed. The part of the blanket where Ryan had been laying was warm.

You hated this silence. You knew it was not because of you, but you hated it anyway. You hated seeing Ryan like this. You cleared your throat to chase away the suspicious itching, and rubbed your burning eyes.

What use would it be if you cried now? It would probably only upset Ryan.

Should you talk to him when he came back out? What should you say? “Nice show”, as if nothing had happened? That would be pretentious. “You played great today,” as if he wasn’t aware of it? “I’m sorry so few people came,” as if he had to be reminded?

By the time the water stopped running, and Ryan came out of the bathroom again, you still had not figured out what to say. He was wearing an oversized shirt, which made him look small and fragile, an impression which got underlined by the baggy sweatpants he had put on. His hair was hanging down on both sides of his face, wet strands, like a picture frame.

Before you could even say anything, even if it was just to ask how he was feeling, he had crawled onto the bed right next to you, and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, pulling you down with him. Surprised you hugged him back, not sure what exactly was happening. For a while both of you were quiet.

Slowly Ryan’s arms loosened around you, relaxing, but you made sure to keep holding onto him. In the silent room, the only thing you heard was his breathing, and distant traffic from outside.

With every inhale, you felt his chest rising up against yours, exchanging warmth between your bodies. Over time he started relaxing more, his head eventually resting on the pillow underneath him, and you adjusted carefully, trying to find a position in which you did not have to put so much effort into holding your head up either.

Eventually you ended up facing him, your arms wrapped around his middle, holding him close while his breath caught in your hair, and you gently moved your fingers over his shirt. Beneath it you could feel his skin slide against the fabric, muscle strands that reached down his back, and his ribs and spine.

A strange feeling of awareness overcame you, as if for the first time you understood how fascinating it was that life this complex existed, and holding it in your arms like this made your heart almost explode.

You had almost assumed Ryan had fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke up.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you earlier,” he whispered so close to your forehead that you could have sworn his lips almost brushed against your skin.

“It’s okay,” you answered, soothingly running your hands up and down his back.

“No, it’s not. It’s not your fault this few people appeared, it’s not the fault of those who came either, it’s nobody’s fault really,” he sounded tired, and you understood what he wanted to say. “As a musician you have to be prepared that these things happen, it’s within the statistics. I just got too used to be playing for almost sold-out venues…”

“That’s not your fault, Ryan. Everyone’d get used to that. It’s okay to be disappointed, it’s human,” you whispered your reply, feeling how Ryan, who had tensed up, slowly started to relax into your arms again.

“I’m mostly disappointed in myself for having expectations that won’t always be fulfilled,” he mumbled from between his teeth.

“That’s normal, no reason to beat yourself up about it, you hear,” you tilted you head to look at him, “and it’s okay to be sad, or angry, or disappointed, sometimes. As long as you don’t let it eat away on you, it’s completely fine.”

Ryan looked at you, his chocolate eyes glowing almost whisky golden in the light of the lamp on the bedside table. For a long while you just looked at each other, studying each other’s faces, features, the little pattern in his eyes.

You noticed how towards the edge of his iris the brown turned darker until it was almost black, the little waves in his iris, the tiny wrinkles around the corner of his eyes, the long, brown lashes beating against his cheeks with every blink, and the gently swung form of his soft, pink lips.

“You are perfect.”

His words were merely a breath of air in the space between you, but you were certain to have understood him correctly. Smiling softly you shook your head.

“Far from it,” you disagreed.

“Not flawless, but the right amount of flawed to be not the kind of person who makes you feel uncomfortable to be around them. Just… perfectly imperfect,” Ryan whispered.

You watched his lips as he spoke, feeling the same urge to kiss him as you had had during the night which you had spent in the hotel lobby when the bus had gotten stolen. But instead of acting on it, you blinked slowly, feeling the exhaustion of the day claiming its tribute.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

You felt your eye lids getting heavier and heavier with each blink, and your eyes stayed closed longer and longer, until they eventually stayed closed, and Ryan’s presence, his even breathing against your chest, and the warmth that sept into your body, lulled you into sleep.

“You’re perfect, and so, so beautiful,” he whispered, hoping you were tightly enough asleep to not have heard him.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @a-tired-vampire @angelevansfalls

HSWKYS: @honimello

#ryan seaman x reader #ryan seaman x reader fluff #ryan seaman fluff #ryan seaman imagine #multi chapter #mulit chapter #fanfiction #fanfic #cute #fluffy #angst #his smile will keep you safe

[aridushku]

Take my hand

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: Amar a Muerte, Juliantina

Rating: M

Relationship: Juliana Valdés/Valentina Carvajal

Summary: Valentina plans a surprise trip to celebrate their first anniversary.

For the next chapters, go to AO3 :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598101/chapters/41482229

A/N: This is my first fic in a reaaaally long time, so please let me know what you think!

A/N: The song mentioned in this chapter is Take My Hand by Picture This, make sure you listen to it while you read.

“But you have to promise you won’t peak!” Valentina laughs nervously, while adjusting her girlfriend’s blindfold.

Juliana rolled her eyes behind the blindfold, holding back a smile. For weeks now she had been suspicious of Val’s actions. More than once she had witnessed her talking on the phone at strange hours and blocking her phone as soon as she approached. One night Valentina used even sex to avoid having to explain who she was texting.

Despite all this, Juliana wasn’t worried. Their relationship had been through so much in an year. They had to be strong together so many times through dark moments. She loved and trusted her girlfriend. She knew Val was up to something, just as she had some surprises of her own planned out. Except Juliana’s surprise took place during this morning, when she made them breakfast and then had sex on the kitchen top.

“Well, this should be a new tradition” Valentina said, coming back to breathe.

Juliana moaned deeply “yes, I definitely agree. We have to do this every year now”, she opened her eyes slowly to marvel on her girlfriend’s swollen lips, her hair all over the place.

“Year?? I was thinking more like everyday” Valentina laughed and licked her lips.

“Come here” Juliana pulled her in a deep kiss, tasting herself while slowly running her fingernails all over her girlfriend’s back.

Valentina escaped the kiss for a second to glimpse at the clock. She then fought the urge to deepen the kiss even further, knowing it would only lead to a few more hours, on the kitchen top or even on the floor. “Let’s take a shower, it’s time for my surprise!” She clapped in excitement and jumped on the floor, taking one last look at Juliana’s naked figure.

Juliana noticed Valentina’s hungry eyes and decided to take her time “right now?” She pouted “I thought maybe we could go to bed and...”

Valentina licked her lips again. That was in fact an amazing proposal, but all her planning could go to waste if they were late “aaand, I love you so much but we really need to get going. I promise it will be worth it.” Val wrapped her girlfriend around her arms to help her down the counter just to feel her hot body pressed against her, her nipples still hard and begging to be sucked. “Please let’s hurry or I’ll have to eat you just one more time.” Val whispered on Juliana’s ear, knowing it would make her shiver.

“Fine, you win!” Juliana smiled, taking her hand upstairs. The valley house really was starting to feel like home for them. Now that her mother was safe from the cartel and had Panchito watching her back, she was finally starting to enjoy her life with Valentina. The majority of her clothes was already in Val’s closet, and she tried to remember if she even kept a toothbrush at her mom’s anymore.

“Juls, can you run the shower? I’ll just... see if I can find the dress I want to wear, ok?”. Juliana nodded and smiled, shaking her head. She was such a lousy liar. Maybe she was still figuring something out for her surprise, but Juls decided to let herself be surprised. It was really a miracle, considering almost every other surprise she planned, she ended up ruining herself, for telling something earlier or even seeking Juls for her opinion.

Juliana smiled at the memories. Recalling they left the house with Val wearing skinny jeans and a blue silk blouse, which matched her eyes beautifully. No dress insight. A lousy, but oh so cute liar.

“So, any tips about where we’re going?” Juliana casually asked as she felt the car moving. It was new having Val driving her around. She was not the best driver — mostly due to the fact that she had chauffeurs all her life — but she was trying her best to give them more privacy, even if that meant having an extra security car behind them.

“Well...” Valentina was dying to tell her everything. The past few months had been torturous. She wanted to know Jul’s opinions and suggestions but it could ruin everything. More than once she caught herself almost spilling her plans. Hiding something from her loved one didn’t feel right, but she knew it would be worth it to see the look in her eyes. “I promise you it will be the best surprise ever!”

“Oh, so better than mine? Sorry about the pancakes and sex then” Jul shrugged and crossed her arms against her chest.

“No! Babe! Never!” Valentina pressed the brake pedals a little too strong, wanting to kiss Jul’s pout away.

Juliana laughed, knowing she had got in Valentina’s head, but still worrying about the breaking and crazy curves “okay, I’m kidding. Are we too far? It’s starting to feel a lot like Bird Box with the blindfold and the driving...”

“Aw, c’mon” Val knew Juls loved to tease her on her driving, even though she didn’t know how to drive herself. “Here, let’s put your playlist on. We won’t be there for another...” she looked at the car’s GPS “30 minutes or something”

Juliana agreed and sighed in relief she made them a Spotify playlist. Their first weeks driving around all Val wanted to hear was Eso Es Amor in repeat. It was a cute song, but it got old really fast. She leaned back against the leather on the car seat and let her body rest, still a little sore from their morning activities. She realized that being blindfolded really heightened her senses. She could smell Valentina’s shampoo separately from her perfume, as well as the flowers in the backseat. Just as she took a deep breath, concentrating in the lights flashing on the street, she felt her girlfriend’s hand touch her thigh. This was probably the best part about them being alone in the car.

“I really love this song” Juliana caressed Valentina’s hand softly, feeling every inch of her skin.

“Me too. If costume design isn’t for you, you could be a DJ.” Valentina laughed, turning up the volume.

“You're all that I'm needing You're all that I'm feeling And I'll be the one that's kicking and screaming When you have to go every evening

Your feet in the sand And mine in the water We can explore these hills if that's what you want to do You know I can't stand, when it gets cold in the evenings And I'm standing there freezing, but my clothes look so good on you

You play with my hair like there's no other And I'm no longer scared of your older brother He said, "we're cool, man, I know you love her"

Juliana smiled at the mention of older brother, knowing how much Guille had been supportive of them the whole time. “Speaking of brother, does Guille know about your surprise?” She tried figuring something out from a different approach.

“Well...” Valentina measured her words, not wanting to give anything away “Yes, I’ve had help from some people.” Val replied, looking for signs to point her in the right direction “We’re almost there” her smile widened when she saw that all her preparations were in sight and everything looked amazing.

As soon as Juliana felt Valentina shut the car off, the music stopped and external noises filled her ears.

“Ready?” Valentina asked, removing her seat belt and running to the passenger door to help Juliana out. “Take my hand so you won’t fall”

Juliana had to speak a little louder “Val, I love you but I know we’re at the airport, I can hear engines everywhere” her heart beat a little faster. The idea of an adventure was indeed fascinating and she couldn’t wait to find out their destination.

“I know, just... you need to take like more 10 steps” Valentina guided her and she followed until she felt a smooth ground beneath her feet. “Ok, ready?”

Juliana smiled widely “Yes!” She expected to find Valentina holding a plane ticket to some beach and the usual airport sight. But not in her wildest dreams she could picture the scene in front of her.

No busy terminals, no lines, no baggage claims, no screaming children running around, not even the smell of yesterday’s bagel reheating in some dirty café.

She looked up to see Valentina smiling like a kid on Christmas. Behind her was their car, surrounded by more than ten security personnel. Her feet touched an incredibly smooth red carpet. In front of her a shiny white private jet. The golden details almost blinded her in this morning light. The Gulfstream G650 golden writing beneath the cockpit window caught her eye, as it was being polished by the local staff. Everything seemed perfect like in a movie, and immediately she noticed Valentina had put so much effort into making this perfect “Val, I...”

“Happy anniversary, my love” Valentina hugged her tight, caressing her hair as she tried to calm herself. The stress of the planning and of coming to this moment had worn her out.

“Ah... Happy anniversary” Juliana felt her knees weak and felt grateful Valentina had such a strong grip on her. She couldn’t believe her girlfriend had planned all this to so much detail.

“Come on, you need to see inside!” Valentina pulled her as they climbed the small steps.

Juliana could hear her playlist softly playing. To the left she noticed two female pilots talking inside the cockpit. They seemed incredibly professional, discussing the weather enroute and navigation charts. The woman on the left seemed more experienced, her blonde hair mixing between some white ones. The brunette on the right was definitely younger, but her voice tone was so calm and collected as she stepped out to the greet the passengers “Ms. Carvajal, Ms. Valdés” she formally greated “it’s a pleasure to have you aboard. We hope you enjoy your flight.” She smiled and respectfully lowered her head.

“Thank you, Sarah! We will!” Valentina excitedly pulled Juliana closer to continue the tour.

Juliana tried to collect every detail. The bar, the seats positioned to form a private cinema, the small kitchen, the bedroom at the end of the plane had roses on top of the bed. Suddenly the girl realized how far from her reality she was. The only plane she had ever been on was the one coming from San Antonio, which couldn’t compare to this even in the slightest. “Val, everything looks great, but is also looks really expensiv...”

Valentina jumped to stop her “Juls, I know what you’re thinking. But really, this plane belongs to my father’s best friend and he’s been offering me for years now.”

“I know, and it’s amazing, but there’s also all this...” Juliana didn’t know if she would address the fancy champagne, or their favorite chocolates, or maybe the flowers spread around the airplane.

“All part of my surprise from me to you, baby. Please, I know it’s a bit more than we’re used to, but I wanted to do this so bad!” Valentina had her puppy face on. She knew this would be an issue, but she wished it wouldn’t.

“I know, but we could travel by car, or normal planes even, they get you places as well you know...” Juliana didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but everything felt a bit overwhelming for her.

“Yes, but can’t I do this just once for you? Pleeease?” Her blue eyes widened as she begged.

“You are annoyingly cute when you do that face and you know that” Juliana rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“So, it’s a yes?” Valentina almost jumped in excitement.

“Well, yes!” Juliana smiled widely, not even sure what she was concenting to. “But where are we going?”

Valentina hugged her tightly, kissing her deeply “ Hmmm... I can’t tell you that.You’ll have to wait a little bit longer.”

“Val, c’mon... you know how curious I am. And to be honest, I would be glad if it were just the two of us here, with the doors closed and...” Juliana played with her hair, teasingly. 

“Well, what do you know?” Valentina pulled her inside the room and closed the door behind them “Voilà” as soon as they got closer, Valentina’s hand was already inside Juliana’s shirt, feeling her tight stomach beneath her palm. She could tell her breathing was erratic, matching her own.

“Ok, I get your point now, Ms. Carvajal...” she teased, adding a sexy tone. She urged herself not to throw Valentina on top of the bed and make love to her. The whole environment made it very difficult, but also Valentina’s hands caressing her were driving her off the edge.

They were stopped to the sound of a light buzzer and Valentina sighed in disappointment, but still answering the phone “Yes? ...ok, sure. Is Kit here yet? Fine, we’ll talk to her in a few... Yep, ok, no problem, thanks.” Valentina hung up the phone in a hurry, looking forward to resume their makeout session.

“Everything ok?” Juliana asked, not breaking their distance.

“Yeah, just... We’ll be taking off in 10 minutes. They told us to wear seat belts” Valentina shrugged.

“Ok, so, what are we waiting for?” Juls pulled her girlfriend outside, just to notice the outside cabin was now also separated by another door, making a small and cozy living room with a wide TV and snacks all around. “Everything looks so nice, baby” She pulled her in another kiss, before seating in the couch trying to find her seat belt.

Valentina sat beside her, gently helping her secure the seat belt as they began to feel the aircraft slowly taxiing towards the runway. “Well, thank you for choosing Juliantina Airways” she giggled, fastening her own seat belt this time.

Juliana laughed at how silly happy her loved one looked. “Oh, no problem. I feel like I’m getting the VIP treatment over here...” she watched outside the window and could already spot larger planes leaving the ground. “So, are there no flight attendants on this flight?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“What?” Valentina frowned, not getting the question until she realized her girlfriend had never been on a private jet. “Oh, no, there is!” She promptly responded “that is me, ma’am” she extended her hand “I’ll take very good care of you. But first you should hear about our safety instructions” she put on a straight face, but saw Jul was having a hard time taking her seriously “in the event of an emergency I can scream really loud and if there is a depressurization I can provide a wonderful mouth-to-mouth” she ran her tongue along her lips, trying to hold back her laughter.

“Oh my god you are so silly” Juliana bumped into her lightly, the aircraft was now moving a lot faster, and in less than a minute she could feel them off the ground. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Well, you could tell me again...” Valentina joked, proud of herself for making her girlfriend look this happy in such a special day for them. She watched fluffy white clouds go by as their plane climbed up to its cruise altitude.

A/N: Please let me know what you think, and if you have any clue where Val might be taking them!

#juliantina #amar a muerte #juliantina fanfic #f/f #juliana x valentina

[erinysceidae]

Legend of Zelda: Requiem of Power

Happy NaNoWriMo! 

Instead of actually participating, I am posting some things I’ve been working on.

 This is my Legend of Zelda fan fiction, which I want to finish, but I also want feedback on... I don't want to post it to AO3, or FF.N, because it’s just too big an audience, but I’ve got a handful of followers, many of which may or may not be Zelda fans or Fan fiction readers, so this should only reach a handful of people? 

If you do read this, comments are desired and critiques are heartily encouraged; I’ve done a lot of editing, but editing is no my forte, so I apologize for spelling errors.

Gosh, I am 34, I can not believe posting some writing is making me so anxious, haha.

Chapter 1 - The Boy among Ghosts

The sun was just beginning her journey into the pale, scorched sky; the holy valley held the shadows of night tight in her stony hands. Poes drifted from from memorial spire to monument headstone, occasionally stopping to chitchat with one and other, to themselves, or to no one at all. They went about their routine seamlessly, just like they had every day before for decades; some for centuries.

The golden light of morning slid over the cliff top and upon the stone relief over the entrance to the Shrine of the Fierce Goddess; the translucent desert marble glowed in the shadowy gloom. The entryway, still frigid from the windswept night, slowly illuminated as sunlight poured into the valley.

From the temple entrance a tiny green-clad Poe came zipping, whirling and giggling with glee. "Oh my Goddesses! So exciting-- so excited!" she squealed, embers spilling and spiraling from her lantern as she spun recklessly through the air.

The narrow valley was full of grave markers of all shapes, sized and materials. One specific mausoleum was the source of the little poe's attentions; an open gazebo of white marble, aged shrouds tied around the narrow pillars to block out casual peeping eyes and the twisting winds that managed to get into the valley.

"Wake up, wake up! It's time to wake up!" the Poe squealed, passing through the shrouds and diving toward a makeshift bed. She grabbed the top blanket and yanked it away. 

The bedding below-- several layers of fraying woven grass mats-- was unoccupied.

"Oh land, life and law, he's gone!" she squeaked. "I lost the Prince!"

"Ghola? I'm right here," came a voice from behind her.

In the center of the small mausoleum, sitting calmly in lotus position, was a young Gerudo boy. His only scrap of clothing was a loincloth, but his ears were lined with golden hoops and studs, and a gold and ruby ornamental crown rested on his forehead. He rolled his eyes at the frantic poe.

"I thought I'd lost you!" The tiny poe, Ghola, squeaked, "she woulda killed me if I lost THE PRINCE!"

"You're already dead, you can't..." he started to explain, but stopped as he noticed that she wasn't listening. She continued to wail and lament her imagined punishment. 

He stretched his legs, leaned back and watched her gestures and flailings for a moment, before turning back to his meditations. Instead of returning to the lotus, he rolled backwards onto his shoulders and lifted his feet further and further over his head until his toes rested on the ground. As his weight shifted, the crowd slipped off his forehead, thin golden chains slithering to the floor. He grunted in frustration.

"But I found you! Yay! No one gets in trouble and we can both go see Maman!" Ghola concluded.

"Maman?" He swung his legs back over his head and pushed himself upward, landing on his feet. He didn't stay on his feet, however; gravity and his thin, gawky body conspired against him, and he landed unceremoniously on his rump.

"Ow! Every time," he muttered.

"S'cause your so tall. You were this tall once," Ghola said, sinking to a foot from the floor. She dipped down and grabbed the crown before rushing upward and draping the chains into his unruly hair, "But now you're this tall, big gangly Gangrel."

He ducked away from her tiny hands, quickly sorting out the chains and replacing the ornament upon his forehead. "Don't call me that in front of Maman," he said sternly as he grabbed his pants from the foot of the bed and pulled them on.

"Why, are you embarrassed? Gang-grel?" Ghola teased. 

"No, I'm not. I like my name, it's the only one I've got, but Maman ordered me not to leave the valley. Falon's ranch is definitely out of the valley, and 'gangrel' is not exactly a respectable name for a Prince," he snipped playfully, fastening his belt.

"Oh Goddesses, you're right! She's gonna be so mad if I mess up!" Ghola gasped, hiding her face in her hands. 

Gangrel slipped his boots on, shook his head, tossed the curtain aside and headed out of the gazebo. 

"Okay! I promise I won't mess up at all, okay? Gangrel?" Ghola said, bobbing confidently, then looking around the empty room. "Gangrel, where'd you go?! You need to eat before we go!"

"Are you coming, or not?" He called.

---

The Gerudo Prince ran his dark hands along the cool, softly glowing stone hall. Ghola floated along behind him, watching motes dance in the slim beams of light that drifted from the ceiling. To either side of the main hall stairways wound up to private chambers, long empty. There was an alter between the stairs, and beyond that a long torchlit hall, extending deep, deep into the mountain.

"Wow," Gangrel whispered, "I've never seen the temple lit up and open before. It's a lot bigger than I thought."

"The temple is way bigger than what you see here," Ghola said, lowering her lantern. "There are small prayer halls, sleeping chambers, store rooms and if you keep going down the hall you come to the temple proper. Those lanterns haven't been lit in like ten years. The Poes don't need them, and normals like you aren't allowed any further, so I wonder why..."

"Normals? I am the future King of the Gerudo, I can go where I want," Gangrel informed her.

"You're not a priestess, so no you can't. Only a follower of the Fierce Goddess can enter." Ghola gave a loud raspberry to the indignant prince. "The memories and memorials to Gerudo come and gone are locked within. The secret to entering the temple proper died with the last acolyte. She took up all her courage and for that the Fierce Wolf spared her, but then there was light, and She died. Her secrets were buried in no grave, lost to the dust."

"Ghola, are you... Wait, did you say wolf?"

The tiny poe spun in a circle and bobbed cheerily, "am I what? Courageous and amazing? Yes. I am."

"Y-you didn't really see a wolf, right? It was an illusion, or a dream... It had to be."

"Of course I didn't see a wolf, I wasn't there-- She was, and She did, but She's dead now," she said, twirling her lantern and throwing shadows across the halls. "Maman, there you are!"

Gangrel wasn't able to inquire further before a husky chuckle fell upon his ears as Maman materialized beside him. An enormous poe, easily as tall as the eleven year old Prince and-- lanky as he was-- many times as wide. Her tattered robe had once been of the same sage green as Ghola, but the centuries of ceaseless existing had faded her very essence, making her seem pale. A glimmer-y golden sheen of a crown, similar to Gangrel's own, rested on her shadow-hued brow.

"My Prince," she said, bowing low, "Sister Ghola."

"Maman," he replied, bowing lower.

She swatted the back of his head, nearly loosing his crown again. "A king bows to no one-- how many times must I tell you?"

"For as long as you are my Maman," he replied, looking up at her.

"Humility does not suit a king, you must be strong and stalwart-- but I can not be mad at you," she replied, her thin, bony hand brushing his hair back. "My handsome little Prince. You have said your prayers today, yes? You practiced the holy steps?"

"Of course Maman," he said.

Her eyes burned dim, and her face, though so dark as to be featureless at a distance, was full of concern, and sorrow, and agelessness. "You remember the tenets?"

"Of course, Maman."

"Speak them."

"The Three Goddesses created all," he recited. "They gave us life, the land and the laws. It is our duty to use our skills to protect these sacred things. Those with courage must do all they can. Those with wisdom must teach all they know. Those with power must protect all without. Strive to have these holy attributes. There is no sin in fear, only cowardice. There is no sin in foolishness, only ignorance. There is no sin in failure, only surrender."

"Hold them in your heart, my Prince, the kings of the past forgot them..." Maman said, placing her pitch black hand over his heart. She closed her eyes and began to chant. "Praise the Goddesses, creators of all--"

Ghola coughed, "uh, Maman? Focus."

"Hmm?" The ancient Poe intoned, looking between the two as though she had forgotten they were there. "Oh, my Prince, good morning, you have said your prayers?"

"I understand the importance of the tenets Maman," Gangrel said, hoping to get her back on topic, "but I'm sure you didn't call me here to hear me quote holy words."

"Yes, yes, I recall now. I have an important task for you-- and urgent task. One that will take you out of the valley, far into the desert. Are you ready to explore your kingdom?"

"O-out? B-but you said not to leave the valley-- not until I was an adult," Gangrel said obediently.

"I did, I did." Maman said, her glowing eyes narrowing, "and did you listen to me when I said that?"

Gangrel looked to the side, grimacing, "yes... I listened."

"Did you, Gangrel?" she said. "I know about the goatherd girl, Falon."

His dark cheeks blanched; shame pulled his gaze to the cold, dim floor.

"Oh no! I didn't tell, I swear!" Ghola squeaked, waving her arms. "I promised I wouldn't, and I didn't! Not even a little!"

"I know, I believe you," his eyes turned to the tiny green Poe, and he gave a small smile before turning back to Maman, "I'm sorry Maman. Yes, I listened to you, but I didn't obey you. I tried to stay in the valley's shadow, but once I got into the sun there was so much to see. I had to know what was out there. I made a friend-- and I trust her."

She sighed, a dry and dusty sound. "I will not punish you for curiosity, Prince. I forbade you from leaving for my own well being, as much as for your safety. I worry, greatly, for you my little, little Prince. The world is much bigger, and much harsher, than you know." Her wide, luminescent eyes closed. "I will not punish you for breaking my rules, but time will tell if you will punish yourself for the consequences."

"...Maman?" Gangrel asked softly.

"No, now is not that time," she said. She twirled in the air, summoning her own large, bright lantern. Blackened by time and soot, the lantern was of an older style, different from the oil lamps and candle cages most of the poes carried. Maman twisted the fasteners on the top and opened it, causing the light within to pulse and twist. Holding the lantern with one hand, she reached in with the other and pulled out a long, glowing, indistinct shape-- far longer than the lantern itself. She held the glow out to Gangrel.

"Those with Power must protect those without. Will you accept your duty as a Prince? Will you protect those less powerful?"

"I-I don't have power."

"You are the Prince of the Gerudo, Son of Dragmire. You do have power. How will you use it?" she thrust the light-obscured item toward him again. "Will you protect those who cannot  protect themselves?"

Gangrel reached for the proffered items, but hesitated and looked at his own hands for a long moment. 

He'd been barely a toddler when he'd last seen another Gerudo-- or so he had been told. They had dark skin and wide eyes, red hair and golden jewelry, just like him, the poes said. The Gerudo villages were always heavy with incense and song. They were happy and peaceful people; studious, strong and brave.

He wanted to say he remembered them; that he remembered something: flashes of color, certain smells, distant voices, anything.

He didn't. He'd never known them. If the words he’d heard outside the valley were true, he never would. He was alone in the world. A boy amongst ghosts.

He remembered fear. He remembered a bright, cold flash and being dropped into the sand, a warm, guiding light and then nothing but growing up in the Memorial Valley.

It made him angry. 

It made him furious; a burning hatred festering in his heart toward whomever had done it, whomever had ordered it, for those who had allowed it, for those who hadn't defended themselves, for those that had died and left him alone, for himself not fighting harder-- No.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Violence was not the answer. It was never the answer.

He prayed, for the power to restrain himself, for the courage to keep going, for the wisdom to know that the past couldn't be changed, but the future was open. He pushed the anger down, bottled it up and turned it away.

Opening his eyes, he reached and took the item from her, pulling it close and clasping it in both hands, "I will. I swear, on the sand, the wind and the water, that I will. I will protect those who can not protect themselves. I will be a Prince-- I will be a King-- that you can be proud of."

The glow abated and revealed, clasped in his hands, two swords. Just over a foot each, but so sharp they nearly sang. Etched on the base of the blade was the symbol of the Gerudo and several old Gerudo runes, which meant nothing to him. The hilts were simple time-hardened wood and metal, with long red clothes tied around the blade collar.

He turned his arms and looked at the shining, deadly blades. There was power within the metal. 

At his feet the dust began to prickle and sway.

The power to fight. 

Power pulsed within him, with his heart beat.

The power to avenge. 

The sand gave the power shape, concentric circles of scales dancing around him, crackling with power.

The power to kill.

"No!" He dropped the swords to the stone and stepped back; the dust fell still. "No, I changed my mind, I don't want it!"

With a sharp flash of light, the blades returned to him, materializing in two scabbards hooked to a belt around his waist.

Maman sighed heavily, "it was never truly a choice."

"No, life is sacred, I must protect it, not end it! I'm not a killer!" He screamed, pulling the swords from his belt and discarding them again. 

"You made a promise to protect."

They returned, again.

"No, no, no!" he whimpered, this time trying to loose the scabbards themselves from his belt, "I won't be a murderer! I'm not a monster!"

Maman simply watched him struggle, her lantern distinctly dimmer now than before. "You must," she said, and nothing more.

Ghola flew to him, "Gangrel, calm down. Hey, look-- look at me-- look at this," she said, holding up her lantern.

Confused and struggling for composure, he looked the lantern; thin braided leather cords bound a cup of green glass; luminescent smoke drifting over the rim and inside a small, but bright orb of light rolled in slow circles. He stopped struggling with the scabbards and his eyes flickered between the lantern and Ghola.

"Hold out your hands," Ghola said.

Slowly, he brought his hands up, cupped in front of him. 

She set the lantern in his hands, letting the unnatural warmth from it soothing his shaken nerves. Floating up to his face, she set a tiny hand on his cheek.

"You don't have to kill anyone. Swords are not for killing, they're for protecting," she said, drifting beside him and stroking his hairline gently.

"I don't have anyone to protect," he whispered.

Gangrel went silent, his eyes falling to the lantern in his hands. It was small, but glowed with a fierce, courageous light.  

"For now, you just have to protect yourself," Ghola whispered. "Don't worry, I'll go with you. I'll protect you. I'm good at that."

The lantern was heavy in his hands; he'd known Ghola as long as he could remember. Though silly and somewhat carefree, she was the most lucid poe in the valley, always concerned with his safety and well being. She was protective to the point of annoying, always bugging him to eat more, not to climb on things, not to pick up wild animals and insects, and to not have any fun unless she was involved. Whenever he got out of her sight, he always ended up messing up, or getting hurt, and she would have to clean him up, saying nothing, but never forgetting.

"Yeah, you are," he admitted.

"You mustn't dally, you must go beseech the Goddesses for their blessings," Maman said. "The Great Goddess, the Merciful Goddess and the Fierce Goddess. The Desert Colossus, the Oasis Library and the Memorial Hall."

"He's not a priestess, he won't be able to get into the Hall proper," Ghola said.

"He is the Prince. I imagine the Goddess with make an exception for him," Maman said.

Gangrel stuck his tongue out at Ghola, also holding her lantern out to her; she raspberried back, snatching her light back.

"Children, this is a serious time. Please." She twirled, holding a length of cloth as she came to face him again. She wrapped the cloth over his head and shoulders, "this will protect you, from the heat of the sun, and the chill of the moon. Go now. Pass through the Memorial Hall and speak to the Fierce Goddess. Beyond the hall you will find the Haunted Wasteland. The spirit guide there can take you to the Desert Colossus and the Desert Oasis. Go now, and be safe."

Gangrel nodded, running his fingers along the soft, cool shawl on his shoulders, "I will return-- and I will keep myself safe without killing anyone, I swear."

"Do what you must."

#legend of zelda #fan fiction #Ganondorf #wip

[zippdementia]

Part 62 Alignment May Vary: Valley of the Fane

This is the ongoing journey log of my longest running Dungeons and Dragons campaign, started in October of 2016. The campaign will be broken into five parts, the fourth of which you are currently reading. For the first part, which focuses on adventures in the Moonsea, click here. For the second, which focuses on the search for the Tomb of Haggemoth, click here. For the third, which focuses on the confrontation with the Red Hand of Doom, click here. 

Imoaza leads the companions to the Vale, a large valley looking down upon a ruined tower that reaches into the sky like a man-made mountain. Before they can go down into the valley, they are waylaid by five serpentine figures: Imoaza’s brethren have been waiting for her to try to enter the Vale and had one of her daughters, Hecaté, a Yuan Ti who hatched after Imoaza left her people, set a trap for her. 

Hecaté weilds the Malnora, a hexblade scimitar capable of cutting through space time to allow Hecaté to warp all around the battlefield. Still, it proves no match for Imoaza’s Drosselgreymer and Hecaté was not preparing Imoaza to come with companions. Because of these missteps, the players make surprisingly short work of the Yuan-Ti, defeating them while taking barely any damage. Only Hecaté survives, using Malnora’s power to dive through a tear she makes in space, promising that she will return. After this, the players make their way down to the tower.

The part of the adventure is meant to be a puzzle. Getting into the tower is the first part of that puzzle. This leads to a climbing sequence which becomes unintentionally funny when Aldric continually fails his strength check despite his massive strength score and keeps plummeting down a hundred feet or so to the last climbing check point he made. Level 11 characters are built tough!

After the fight, Aldric has a sad moment as he realizes that he can’t bring Anope, his horse (and second to bear the name), with him. So he releases her into the wild, telling her to “find her way back home.” She runs off, leaving behind this adventure, but maybe starting another one... more on that in a future blog.

Carrick also notices a few very odd things as they climb the tower. First, in their journey to this valley, they have seen nothing indicating the presence of an army. No marks on the land, no signs of campgrounds, and definitely no hobgoblin encampments. Are they actually heading to the right place? Also, this tower is odd. It’s made of a a strong material, maybe like iron, that Carrick cannot identify. What was its purpose?

Finally managing to scale the tower and create a path for the others using rope, Aldric pulls himself through a crack in the tower wall and onto a huge ledge. The companions find a nest here, filled with large warm eggs, and a skeleton near it that gives Aldric quite a shock: when he finds the skeleton’s magical +2 longsword, he realizes that he knows the blade and its owner.

The sword is Mistreaver and the man is Longrimor. He was a member of the Green Company, a chronicler of their exploits, who left the Company not many years before it was destroyed by the Behir, saying that he was seeking a great treasure, the “greatest of treasures” in a lost valley. His journal details his final days:

... found the tower, precisely where the legends and the sage suspected it would be. If my theory is correct, this changes everything we thought we knew about (here the writing is illegible). I cannot turn back now. I will sleep in the shleter of the (illegible) tonite, meditate on my discoveries, and in the morning press on.

And then there is one final hurridly scrawled entry: THE LIGHTS!

Aldric mourns the man’s death and keeps the sword but continues to use Blackrazor for the time being. Which, speaking of Blackrazor, the dark sword has gone eerily silent on Aldric, refusing to speak or to use any of its powers outside of its base magical strength. This began right after Aldric first witnessed Imoaza summon her Drosselgreymer during the fight against Hecate and the blade’s sudden change in nature concerns Aldric, though he has no idea what it means.

The inside of the tower contains a forest, at the edges of which they can see a small lake. The sun is setting fast, the rising peaks surrounding the vale cutting off the light that much faster, and the shadow of the tower hangs thickly on the woods beneath them. A roar and the sudden movement of trees below signals that the woods contain unseen dangers and the companions decide to settle for the evening here on the ledge rather than face those dangers in the dark. Also there is the note to contemplate: what did Longrimor mean by his final words? What are the lights?

Oakshadow

“I grew up listening to stories about you, mother. I heard what you tried to do. It was admirable, impressive even. But you failed and you should have accepted what that meant. Instead you stole our most holy of weapons and fled from us, like a coward. You made your choice back then, mother: you chose to die. Now rejoice, because you finally get what you asked for.”

~ Hecate

I need to note that the next bit of the adventure was inspired (and in parts copied) from an MT Black adventure called Expedition to the Lost Peaks. It’s not my favorite MT Black adventure (it ends a little too quickly and the pacing isn’t great) but like most of his adventures, it is unique and interesting and I recommend checking it out!

 The night does not pass without incident. The nest turns out to belong to two mated Wyverns, who attack during the night, divebombing the companions. The fight goes exceptionally well for them: none of the heroes take damage, though Carrick narrowly avoids being shoved off of the tower when a Wyvern charges him. Aldric blocks the attempt and Carrick is only pushed to the very edge of the tower, teetering for a sickening second on the edge of a deadly fall.

With the Wyverns dead, the companions decide to eat the eggs. It’s not a good idea: Wyvern eggs are vastly poisonous. Only Imoaza thinks it is a delicious meal, but then she is immune to poisons.

Rather than clamber down the tower again, Imoaza casts fly on the three of them and they all float down towards the lake. Why the lake? After the Wyvern fight, Aldric was too enervated to sleep. He decided to stay up all night and during this watch saw lights in the distance, coming from the lake. They lasted for hours, only fading with the dawn.

Right before reaching the lake, the party is startled by the trees moving beneath them. They land, prepared for a fight, but instead meet a friendly Treant. The Treant, who calls himself Oakshadow, is surprised to see the three of them and isn’t quite sure what they are. Oakshadow has been here for as long as he can count time. He says he simply remembers sprouting from the ground and seeing stars falling around him. The world as he knows it only exists within the walls of the tower. He cannot comprehend anything beyond its walls. When he awoke, his world was one of destruction and decay, but over many years he has used his powers to grow the forest, which he cares for deeply. The lake is not his doing: that was once a deep crater, but centuries of rainfall have filled it.

It seems he has no knowledge of humanoid creatures, saying that it is only him, the hunters, and the Black Beast in the forest.

“They come at night, mostly,” he rumbles. “They hunt along the edge of the lake. They seek flesh, so they do not bother me nor my plants. But they would make quite the meal of the three of you.”

He does mention something that perks all of their interests: there have been many little earthquakes lately. It seems like a small thing but it does make them think that something might be going on underground.

Heeding Oakshadow’s warning that the night around here is dangerous, the trio decide to move forward and tackle the lake right away, while the morning sun is still shining down on them all.

Submerged

The lake ends up being my favorite part of this part of the adventure. Now that we’ve left book material behind for the most part, I’ve changed the style of my DMing to being more of a sandbox scenario presentation. This means that I present a challenge to the players and then after that I become almost entirely reactive, improvising responses to their solutions rather than running them through pre-built encounters. To prepare for this, for each situation I write down three or four “interesting” ideas, things that I think would be fun or exciting or cinematic for the players to encounter and then I use these if the situation feels like it is appropriate.

For the lake, the secret is that the lights at night come from actual giant lights embedded in the ground at the bottom of the lake. Finding them and following them reveals a hidden passage that leads out of the lake and into the next area. Some things I felt would be interesting here were an encounter with a huge black beast, the thing that was pushing through the trees in the evening, who chases the players through the water, some buried treasure in the silt of the lake, a deer which can the players can save from a predator to gain some unexpected help from Oakshadow in getting to the next area, and a storm passing through the area which disturbs the lake waters and makes swimming difficult.

That last scenario would have been really easy to instigate with the Rod of Storms but, honestly... I forgot that they have the rod of storms at this point! The problem is that no one is attuned to it right now because no one is the right class to use it and they all have other items they want to use. So I keep forgetting that it should be making the weather poor. Instead I describe a sunny day, with a lone deer peacefully drinking from the lake’s edge a litle bit away.

As usual, the players surprise me. I think their most likely choice is to camp by the lake until night, so they can see and try to understand the lights. But they are too nervous about what might be coming at night, so they take the safer route and Aldric dives solo into the lake to explore, using a potion of water breathing to make it a little easier.

This creates a really fun underwater adventure, where Aldric is trying to figure out what to do in the lake. He quickly finds the great black beast and recognizes it as a huge version of the one he faced at Brindol. However, I want to reward the players for being smart, so the beast is asleep, simply a looming threat that makes the entire underwater journey a little more tense.

Also, because I didn’t expect the party to split up, I have to find something for the other players to do. So I grab a creature out of Kobold Press’ Tome of Foes, the Vapor Lynx, and stage an attack by two of the predators.

Carrick tapped Imoaza on the shoulder. “The deer,” he said. “It’s run off.”

Imoaza immediately began sniffing the air, opening her mouth slightly to let the taste of the air run over her tongue. She looked then off into the woods, narrowing her eyes at a mist that was rolling through the trees. She didn’t tell Carrick to be ready. In her mind, if the Half Elf couldn’t see what was coming at them, then he deserved to be ambushed.

The mist reached them far too quickly to be a normal fog and as it came it formed teeth, claws, and a long sleek body that sat low to the ground, its powerful back legs curled under it in readiness to pounce.

This is a fun fight. The Vapor Lynx can release a poisonous cloud of fog and then hide in it. Being able to see through it, they can launch a sudden surprise attack from almost anywhere. Carrick and Imoaza display their very different fighting styles. Carrick likes to use ready actions to let enemies come to him, using his high AC and health to take a hit in trade for getting them close and striking them with a readied action. Then, once they are close, he tries to keep them there, unleashing a barage of physical attacks and only healing at the very last moment. You can tell the character is used to fighting alone, as he sometimes strays too far from his other companions to be of use to them in healing, a cool little character trait that makes him feel more individualized than “just another paladin.”

Imoaza, on the other hand, is a boss killed. Once she pulls out Drosselmeyer, she has so many options for attacking. She can hook them with the scythe then launch eldritch blasts directly into her enemy’s face. She can pull it apart into two weapons, spinning and swirling in a dance of death. She has unusual magic, too, that can change the combat situation in a single action. She uses one of these magics here when the Vapor Lynx gets in past her swirling scythe and mauls her, leaving her badly injured. She encases herself in an ice crystal for a turn, removing her from combat until the Vapor Lynx gets bored trying to cut through her crystal and turns to join the fight against Carrick... at which point Imoaza bursts free from the prison and attacks again.

It’s a tough combat and there are no real victors: the Vapor Lynx’s eventually flee back into the woods, having been dealt enough damage to chase them off. Imoaza and Carrick are hurt, but neither fell in combat, and as they take stock of the situation, Aldric paddles back to shore: “’Sup guys?”

Enter Stage Left

What Aldric found in the lake was a series of glass circles embedded in the floor of the lake. He doesn’t know that they are lights, but he suspects a connection. He followed them across the lake floor, coming eventually to an opening covered by a jelly like substance that he eventually gathers enough courage to push through. It’s not a slime as he at first thinks: it is a forcefield!

He leads the other two now to the other side of the lake, roughly right above where this opening lies, about 20 feet down. The companions all dive into the lake: Aldric does a cannonball; Carrick does a graceful swan dive; Imoaza painfully belly flops on the surface of the water.

Finding and entering the forcefield, the companions find themselves in a long cylindrical tunnel, down the middle of which flows a small stream of water, coming in from where the forcefield is not perfectly sealing off the tunnel. The tunnel is cold, the walls (made of the same material as the tower) doing little or nothing for insulation. They travel it for several hundred yards before their way is blocked by massive cobwebs. Aldric lights a torch and tries to burn away the webbing, but then...

Imoaza looked up and hissed a challenge (and a warning). The ceiling above was pulsating, unfolding its dark mass into eight massive legs attached to a giant fur covered body. The lazy yet deliberate movements of the giant tarantula   reminded her of a hand slowly opening and stretching. The beast shuffled and shook and bits of its fur fell down around her, all of them thin and razor sharp, one of them leaving a trail of blood across her cheek where it sliced her. There was other movement now, too, and clittering and clattering. Soft padded feet moving on metal. Mandibles clicking together. They were coming: a horde of spiders to drink them dry.

There are nine giant spiders here, led by one giant tarantula (a creature I converted from Pathfinder). The fight was designed to be even sided, but my players didn’t heal after their lake escapades, putting them at a disadvantage.

Five of the spiders swarm Imoaza, webbing her in place so they can get close. Carrick is targetted by the rest, while Aldric strides forward to block the giant Tarantula’s way. The Tarantula has its own defenses: its barbed hairs act like a razor sharp shield, cutting Aldric every time he lands a hit on the creature and eventually poisoning him. However, he keeps fighting, not only bringing it down to half life, but stopping it from getting past him to attack his waylaid party members. Eventually the Tarantula retreats up the wall to launch barbs at range at Aldric instead of engaging in melee. Aldric blocks them with his shield and turns to help his fellows.

But by now, things have gone poorly. Imoaza falls under the swarm of spiders, her last action a spinning death whirl with her blades that takes three of them with her. Carrick, poisoned and webbed, continues to fight off his own spiders, killing them surely, but not quick enough to come help Imoaza. So it falls to Aldric to save her. He runs over to the pile of spiders about to feed on her and slashes Blackrazor in a wide arc, slashing through hairy legs and bulbous bodies alike. With the spiders cleared, he takes a defensive stance over Imoaza and...

“Kill her.”

The voice surprises him and it takes Aldric a moment to recognize that it is Blackrazor speaking to him.

“Stab her in the back, man.”

It’s been a moment since the sword last spoke to him. Now Blackrazor’s harsh rasp holds an element of command and determination that makes Aldric raise his blade over Imoaza’s prone figure.

“Take her down. Take her down and inherit the power she wields. Do it.”

Aldric actually has to roll a Charisma save at this point to see if he will do it or not. He fails, badly. Still, he manages not to murder Imoaza and to ignore the blade. But his failure leaves him influenced by Black Razor: a new flaw he gains is that he doesn’t like Imoaza and will actively work to oppose her. And a time may come in the future when he will again be compelled to arrange her demise. Now, if he had rolled a critical failure here...

While this drama is playing out, Carrick finally dispatches the last of the giant spiders and the Tarantula, enraged, stomps back into the fray. Aldric and Carrick face it together, Aldric bravely using his alchemy jug to spray the Tarantula with oil and then setting its face ablaze with his torch. But a critical hit from the Tarantula brings Aldric down and Carrick is forced to flee back up the tunnel to heal himself and consider his options while the great beast rages in pain from the fire. It is certainly going to murder Aldric, who set it ablaze and made so many cuts on its body, but then it pauses as a whistle sounds up and down the tunnel. Despite its still aflame face, the Tarantula goes mostly still, its back bobbing slightly as it lowers its face to the stream and rests it in it, putting out the fire.

From past the cobwebs emerge several tall slender figures garbed in grey and black. Elves, but dark skinned elves that Carrick recognizes immediately as Drow. They point poisoned arrows towards him and order him to surrender and with no further choice, he does. Then one of them approaches, a tall female warrior.

“You certainly did a number on our pets,” she says, and her voice is not kind.

“They certainly did a number on us,” Carrick answers, but before the words are fully out the female drow has driven a needle into the side of his neck and the world goes black.

#Dungeons and DRagons #DND 5e #Treant #Alignment may vary #zippdementia