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lovingperfectionsblog · 6 months

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For What It's Worth - Chatper 4

Max Verstappen x Reader.

Chapter 4: How much whisper shouting can happen in a day?

Chapter Summary: You and Daniel have an impromptu date and Max puts his foot in it.

Warning: Swearing, little angsty, Max being a bit of a dick.

Word Count: 3786

Author's note: Well, here’s chapter 4 everyone. I really hope you like how I’m laying it all out. As one can tell, the story is generally from Max’s perspective, hence we don’t really see what goes on during the dates and we only get to see the debriefs, but the story is about how Max handles trying to get the girl :D I hope you all enjoy and I can’t wait to hear what you think :D

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“You’re looking for me?” Daniel glanced towards Max who had seemingly frozen on the spot, his eyes never leaving where your hand wrapped around Daniel's bicep.

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay?” You gave Daniel the sweetest smile you could and Max could hear his heart shatter the second he noticed Daniel’s eyes quickly dip down towards your lips. He lost you. There was no way Daniel was going to be able to resist you and there’s no way you’re choosing Max over him.

“Yeah, that’s no problem, what can I do you for?” By now Daniel was leaning against the door frame, not excluding Max from the conversation, but it was pretty clear that both of you had forgotten that he was even there now.

“I was just wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing something to drink with me super quick, you know, before FP2?” Your smile only grew bigger as Daniel nodded in response.

“Yeah, we’ll go now, could you give me and Max just one more second, and I’ll meet you out front alright?” You took a step back as he slowly closed the door, taking one last look at Max with the most excited look on your face, before fully leaving and making your way back down the hall, the noise inside the garage covering up your receding footsteps.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Max had to hold himself back from shoving Daniel against the wall.

“What do you mean what is wrong with me? I’m the one helping you!” Daniel whisper shouted back at Max in an attempt to make sure you couldn’t hear the argument.

“So staring at her lips while she asks you on a date is your definition of helping me?” Soon this conversation was going to be a full blown shouting match.

“Look,” the beat of silence that followed did nothing to calm Max’s nerves, “listen, she’s beautiful and I am only a man but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything! I promise I have a plan, just trust me.” and before Max could protest any more, Daniel had slipped out of his driers room and jogged after you.

Max stood there, staring a hole into the door, willing himself not to go after you, he could trust Daniel. He wasn’t going to interrupt your date. There was no way Daniel was going to do anything. He was going to help Max.

He also thought you were pretty.

You and Daniel had only made halfway to one of the food outlets that resided in the paddock before you heard Max calling after the two of you. Both of you swung around at the call of your names to see a charging Max heading straight to the two of you.

Max, between the slight pants that he was sure was more from panic instead of the fact that he hadn’t been following his training program as well as he should be, he couldn’t help but notice the both of you sporting the exact same look on your faces. Both questioning exactly what he was doing and why exactly he was so willing to interfere with their vastly different plans.

“Max, what are you doing here?” You might have sounded sweet when you had said, but Max knew better than that and he was going to take the chance anyway.

“I was also thirsty?” He fell in line with you and Daniel, forcing you into the middle of the drivers, hands deep in his pockets as he shrugged his shoulders forward, a quiet nudge to get the two of you moving along with him.

Reluctantly, both you and Daniel followed. A silence walked along with the three of you as well, a stark contrast to the previous chatter that flowed between yourself and Daniel.

Max tried to come up with something to talk about, these were his two best friends for gods sake, but suddenly the only topic he could think about was how badly he could not let this date go on.

“So, what can I get you?” It was Daniel who spoke up first after the excruciatingly silent walk finally ended in front of one of the many food stands that had littered this particular paddock.

“Oh, would you mind just grabbing me a water mate, thanks.” For the millionth time today, both you and Daniel had looked at Max like he could only be described as insane.

“Actually, that sounds like a brilliant plan, a water for me too please Danny.” He suddenly understood why Max fell for you, even simply asking him to grab you a bottle of water. There was a charm about you. You just had to flash that smile of yours and he’d do anything you needed. Daniel had been a part of your attention for less than 5 minutes, and Max had been under it for nearly a year and a half? No, Max was absolutely screwed.

Before he even knew it, Daniel was standing in line to grab your drinks and you had dragged Max slightly further away, glaring daggers at him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” It was strange, Max always thought that during the important moments in life, he would be solely focused on what was happening, it’s what made him feel so guilty about racing, he was never fully invested during the races, but considering that all the could think about right now was the fact that it was super weird how his entire day was filled with whisper shouting, maybe that’s what differentiated the normal moments from the big ones, the fact that you were suddenly aware just how different the small things in the moment was to everyday life.

“Listen, I just don’t think it’s Daniel.” He didn’t know how he could prove it to you without outing what he did, but he was going to try.

“And how do you know?” There was a hint of sincerity in your voice, because despite it all, you trusted Max the most out of anyone else, and if he said he didn’t think it was Daniel, well then, he may just be right.

“I don’t know how to explain it, I just have a gut feeling it isn't him.” Lie. It was a lie. He was lying to you and he hated it, but you didn’t look like you were buying it and the panic was setting in again, “”Plus, you’re not his type, he likes pretty girls.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“Daniel wouldn’t like me because he likes girls who are pretty.” You slowly repeated everything Max had just said to you, watching the blood drain from his face as you did, “You’re a dick Max Verstappen.”

Max grabbed your arm as you began to walk away, “I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant.” What he meant was that you were too pretty and Daniel couldn’t be left alone with you while you were going to be flirting with him because, shit, you don't even flirt with Max at all, but he had ended up so in love with you it was actually sickening.

“Then please Max, tell me what you meant?” You yanked your arm away from his grip, creating a healthy distance between the two of you.

“What did Max mean?” Daniel stood next to you, watching Max flounder as he tried to right his wrong.

“Please, just, later, at the hotel, please can we just talk.” He ignored both questions. He needed to buy himself some time to figure this out.

“Yeah,” you chucked the bottle of water Daniel had handed to you towards Max, “we can talk at the hotel, in the meantime, I think Horner wants to talk to you.”

With that, Max gave Daniel a curt nod, hoping it came out as a warning as he turned away from the two of you and made his way back to the motorhome, trying to convince himself that he was okay with losing you.

______

You could only assume Max was standing outside your hotel door with how timid the knock came across, and sure enough, as you swung the door open, there he stood, a bunch of flowers in hand waiting for you.

Neither of you said a word as he slicked in past you, making his way into the middle of your room, hand outstretched with the bouquet.

It was only after you had taken the flowers that he got the nerve to say anything, “I really am sorry, it wasn’t what I meant.”

The sincerity in his voice killed you and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you. Max was good like that. As much as people liked to believe he was the big bad Max Verstappen, you knew better. He was soft and he hated that he was seen as otherwise. So him saying this isn’t what he meant, well you knew it was true. This isn’t what Max meant.

“You were right anyway.” You moved to take the flowers to the bathroom and place them in the sink. It was a poor attempt at hiding your disappointment from Max. He somehow could always tell.

“It’s not because you aren’t pretty though.” The bathroom felt too claustrophobic to have this conversation in, Max felt like the smaller the room, the more vulnerable he had to be and if he was vulnerable around you right now, well then he was definitely going to tell you the truth. It seemed like you felt the same. He followed you as you moved through the room, content to be your shadow if that was the closest he could get to you. “How did it go anyway?”

The sigh you let out wasn’t a promising one.

“Honestly, what I expected.” You looked small, curled in on yourself in your embarrassment. “He was sweet, he let me down really gently.”

Max chose not to say anything, instead just sitting down next to you, gently taking your hand in his, a show of comfort. “Was he at least nice?”

“That’s probably the worst part, he was so nice.” The both of you giggled, knowing Daniel couldn’t be mean even if he tried. “It’s not even like I’m upset it wasn’t him. Like, he’s great and all, but I don’t think he’d be the one for me. I just guess I’m tired of not feeling like I’m enough for anyone.”

“You’re enough for me.” It just slipped out of Max’s mouth before he could even stop it and only when you shoved his shoulder playfully did he let the breath he was holding out.

“I’m the best employee you’ve ever had, of closure I’m enough for you.” He couldn’t even laugh along. Is this all he made you see yourself as? His employee? You were so much more and in his head he had always shown it, but maybe he wasn’t doing as good a job of it as he thought.

“You do know that you’re my best friend right?” You kept laughing like this wasn’t something important and Max needed you to see he wasn’t kidding. On impulse he grabbed your face, all laughter dying in your throat as he looked at you before slowly stating, “I need you to know that you mean everything to me. You know you’re my best friend right?”

The silence wasn't uncomfortable and in it, the sharp breath you took in could easily be heard before you nodded, signaling you understood, “You’re my best friend too Maxie.” He nodded in return. Feeling as though some balance had been restored between the two of you again.

“He did say something weird though,” The comment floated through the air as you lay your head against his shoulder, Max only humming as a response, scared the nerves in his voice would betray him if he spoke out loud, “He said that maybe the flowers came from someone I would have never expected. Said I should give them a try.” Max prayed that you couldn’t feel his heart begin to race, “Do you think he knows who the flowers are from?”

“I’m not sure, he might.” He does. He does and Max was a dick thinking the worst of his friend and he still did what he could to help Max without ruining it for him. He owed Daniel an apology.

“Do you think you’d be willing to ask him about it?” At some point Max was going to have to have a talk with you about flashing that smile because there was no way you didn’t know that he was willing to do anything and everything for you when you did.

“Of course, anything for you.” He already had spoken to Daniel about it, and he was going to again straight after he left here. If he could find out any information on this situation that he had royally messed up, he was going to.

You gave his bicep a squeeze as a thank you before the silence settled around you both again. Max couldn’t help but think that this may be a perfect moment with you. That he was willing to have your quiet breaths as the soundtrack to the rest of his life. The skin beneath his shirt where your friends previously gripped burned with the promise of something more.

Maybe, just maybe this was his moment to come clean. Maybe you wouldn’t think he was a creep. Maybe you’d look up at him like maybe you could love him just as much as he loves you. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he could actually be brave.

“I think I should try Lando next.” The shocked look on Max’s face didn’t escape you as you got up from your previous position next to him.

“Lando? Why Lando?” The previous moment was so calm and perfect and was so vastly different to the sudden panic Max was feeling, again, for what could only be the millionth time this weekend.

“Well, Daniel said it would be from someone I would have never expected, and yeah, Lando was already on the list, but I was definitely taking a long shot with him, so I guess, why not him next?” You shrugged as you stood again from fetching your next day's work clothes from your bag.

“I’m not sure it’s going to be Lando?” He hadn’t seen Lando all weekend and was nervous he wasn’t going to get an opportunity to speak to him first.

“Well, when I suggested it to Daniel, he seemed to think it was a good idea.” Why was Daniel determined to make Max’s life difficult?

A second later it dawned on Max, “Wait, you spoke to Daniel about this?”

“Well, yeah, he’s a good friend, he thought it was really sweet what the guy had done, and like I said before, I think he may know who sent it so I explained it all to him, told him the list, he joked about you t being on it and yeah, so Lando.” How had you so casually just dropped all of this information on Max without a second thought.

“Okay, Lando next then, what, next weekend?” He could sort this out in a week. He could speak to the entire grid in a week, get everyone in on a plan he still hadn’t worked out. Maybe Daniel could help him with it after the weekend.

“Oh, I was planning on talking to him tomorrow actually.” Only then had Max noticed the sundress you had laid out on the bed. Tonight. Max and Daniel were coming up with a plan tonight.

“We’ve got a really busy day tomorrow though.” Did they? Max didn’t know? Fuck, you would know if they did or not.

“We don’t actually, other than FP3 and quali, beyond that, it’s actually pretty relaxed.” Would it be wrong of Max to make a group? He could make a group with all the drivers?

“So Lando tomorrow then.” Max needed to see Daniel now, “Listen, it’s getting late, I have to go, are we good?” Max had already made his way to your hotel door, ready to bolt as soon as he knew things between the two of you were fine.

“We’re good, get a good nights,” The door slammed shut and Max was sprinting down the corridor before you could even finish your sentence, “rest.”

Approximately two minutes after Max had left your hotel door, he was standing outside Daniels, furiously knocking to get his attention.

Daniel had barely opened the door a crack before Max was storming into his room.

“She’s going to try with Lando next,” He was panting, his trainer would be ecstatic if he knew how much running around Max was doing this weekend, “tomorrow, she's talking to Lando tomorrow.”

Daniel stood silent at the wide open room door, trying to make sense of what Max was saying.

“She’s wearing a sundress tomorrow.” Suddenly it was like it had all clicked for Daniel and he swung the door shut, offering the two drivers some privacy.

“We need to talk to Lando before she does.” The urgency and surety of Daniels' voice alarmed Max.

“Why?” He couldn’t help how his voice jumped up an octave as he blurted out the question too loudly, desperately needing to know why Danile was so concerned.

Daniel stared at Max for longer than what could be considered comfortable before he finally gave in, “If I tell you mate, you cannot get upset okay?”

Max lied as he nodded. Of course he was going to be upset.

“Firstly, no one else on that grid other than you is in love with her, we all know she’s off limits and yours, but that isn’t to say one or two of them don’t have a crush on her.” Max was going to be sick.

“Who?” he demanded. He needed to make that group.

Daniel only shook his head in response before he continued, “and secondly, if she flirts with them, in a sundress, like she was with me today, they might not be as strong willed as I was mate.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? What happened today?” Max had fully intended on apologizing to Daniel after what he did for him today, but after hearing this, that may only come after a few harsh words have been said.

“Calm down, I can literally see the steam coming off your head. Nothing happened. She just, fuck, you should of warned me she’s as charming as she is. I can see why you fell for her mate.” Daniel felt like he was betraying Max by being this honest, but the truth was the truth, “Honestly, either Lando is going to completely fuck it up with his nerves or yeah, we might have a problem.”

“Lando wouldn’t do that to me though.” Max violently shook his, in protest and in an attempt to get that visual out his head.

“I nearly did that to you, so yeah, Lando definitely might.” None of this was helping Max.

“But you didn’t, right?” It was always so strange to see Max so timid, Daniel never got used to it, even after the years of friendship.

“I told her the flowers weren’t from me and although I think she’s wonderful, I think she needs to be honest with herself about who she wants to be with.” How Max had ever doubted Daniel was beyond him., Öh also I might have hinted that I knew who the flowers were from.”

“Yeah, yeah, she told me that.” Max pulled out a chair and took a seat at the small dining room table, “She also told me that you encouraged her to go for Lando, thinking he might be the one you were hinting at.”

“Jesus I hate this entire game of broken telephone. I didn’t tell her to go for Lando. After she explained the plan that you’re helping her with, which is insane by the way, an entire list?” Max nodded in agreement to the statement, “ And she explained Lando might be next to try, I simply nodded out a yes for the entire plan, made a joke about you not being on the list and commented that the flowers might not have come from someone she expected, meaning you.”

“Yeah, well, she thought Lando.” Max hated how frustrating this entire situation was, but he could only blame himself, “What do we do?”

“We?” The look Daniel received did indeed indicate that this was now his problem as well. “Well, firstly, we gotta talk to Lando, which should be easy, we can bully him, but if you intend to talk to that entire list before she gets to any of them, well, tomorrows a busy day for you mate.”

“I contemplated making a group.”

“A group?”

“Yeah, like, add everyone on the list to the group, explain what an idiot I am, ask them to just do me a solid if she flirts with them in fucking gorgeous sundress while I figure out how to tell her?” How Max had gravitated to the floor was beyond him, but somehow, this is where he felt safest.

“Don’t do that, that might be embarrassing for her. We’ll talk to them individually.” Max was thankful for Daniel being the voice of reason because in his panic he just wanted to get everything done as quickly as possible. “Tomorrow, before she comes down for breakfast, talk to Lando, the rest we’ll figure out from there.”

“Do I tell him everything?” Max was unsure how much he should be divulging here.

“We’ll tell him everything. Even coach him if we need to.” Max began getting up, ready to head to his hotel room for another sleepless night. “You’re going to get the girl mate, I promise.”

With a nod and a quick good night, Max headed back to his room, climbed into bed and readied himself for another stressful night when a message chimed through from you. He quickly opened it up and found a picture of you, in that beautiful sundress with a smile to match, asking if he thought Lando would like it.

With a quick thumbs up to you, because how could anyone not love you in that dress and after saving the image to a folder reserved only for you, that not even Daniel knew about, he opened up his messages again and typed.

Lando was just about to fall asleep before he heard his phone vibrate against the bedside table. Surprised by the late night message and even more so the menacing words it contained.

“We need to talk.”

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#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen #x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #forwhatitsworth #friends to lovers

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nerdestiwrites · 2 months

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predator and prey chatper six (hazbin hotel reader insert)

Alastor had been right when he said Charlie had a bunch of activities planned. She started it bright and early, having made everyone breakfast, in an attempt to bring everyone together to get some form of conversation started, to try and get everyone to build stronger relationships. You could admire the ambition that she had, and you were sure to thank her for the room and the mints that had been left on the pillow, even explaining how you hadn’t been serious about them but still appreciated them.

The princess asked what everyones favorite breakfast meal was, so she could keep in mind for the next time she decided to cook for everyone. She planned on circulating through everyones chosen breakfast at least once a month. Eight people, eight big breakfasts, the rest of the time breakfast would be a private ordeal. You hadn’t been a big breakfast person while alive. You enjoyed the food of course, french toast and muffins having been one of your favorites, but you never actively ate those foods for breakfast. It was either brunch or breakfast for dinner.

While Vaggie and Charlie were talking, it was Sir Pentious who spurred the trust exercises. He didn’t trust anyone in the hotel, which was a fair standpoint in your opinion. You both had just arrived and in Hell, niceness usually came at a harsh price. It also wasn’t unwarranted. You weren’t exactly being open and honest about your true reasons for joining the hotel and you weren’t exactly going to at any point in the future.

Alastor had left for the day, being forced to take Sir Pentious’ eggs by Vaggie, and you almost felt bad for the snake demon. While the eggs were a bit obnoxious they also held a sort of charm to them and seemed to mean quite a lot to him. You knew where the Radio demon had headed to, the Overlord meeting.

The trust exercises weren’t thrilling. Trust falls were a bit cliche in your opinion, and you didn’t know exactly what you would say. So when Niffty ran up onto the stage and jumped off, everyone took a step back, allowing the small demon to land face-first on the ground. Her laugh was one of hysterics, and she stood and ran back up onto the stage, just to throw herself back off, enjoying the pain it brought. Charlie dragged Vaggie off to talk for a few minutes just between the two of them.

“So, toots, you haven’t even looked at me twice today, am I not your type?” Angel asked as he slouched over the couch, his top set of arms crossing while the bottom kept him supported.

You raised an eyebrow as you turned to face the spider demon, “I don’t have a type.” Your answer was simple and blunt. Growing up you always had felt different from everyone, all your friends talking about crushes and their ‘firsts’. You never found yourself attracted to anyone, it never bothered you either. The idea of romance was something you only entertained when it was fictional, or hypothetical, but you could never actually see yourself be with someone for any reason, romantic or sexual. That was the reason you had died without even having a first kiss, it was never something you concerned yourself about.

Angel blinked twice before frowning. “Don’t have a type? Oh come on, I’m everyone’s type! Especially down here! I can be whatever you want me to be, toots.” He continued.

“I don’t have a type. Never was interested in sex, the act or idea.” You shrugged and watched as he seemed to mull over your words.

“Really?” Sir Pentious spoke up and slithered up to stand beside you, a look of interest across his face.

You nodded in answer. “Really. Just wasn’t my thing.”

Before any more questions could be asked by anyone else, Charlie returned with Vaggie, clearly excited as they explained that Vaggie would be taking over on the trust exercises from that point onwards for the day. The rest of the day had definitely gone more interesting as Angel had suggested going to a sex club to try and build trust, and when that didn’t work, Vaggie took everyone to the more dangerous side of the city. A current turf war between two lower demons who seemed to think they were hot shit was rolling through the streets, gunshots and screams could be heard all around. You opted out of the exercise, you knew far too many people on that side of town and didn’t want to be recognized.

You returned to the hotel and went to the kitchen. You had your phone playing music softly, just on shuffle as you didn’t have any particular mood you wanted to listen to. Luckily, and thankfully, most musicians seemed to end up in Hell for one reason or another, which meant you still got to consume new genres and new songs as well as listen to some of your old favorites. Even some of your favorite artists who had long since past you now got to listen to new music that the people back on Earth alive wouldn’t ever hear until they died.

You cooked a simple meal, a grilled cheese, as you didn’t have the energy for anything more than that. Grilled cheese has always been a comfort food of yours, especially when paired with tomato soup. Your favorite had been when your parents would cut the sandwich into different shapes when you were still just a child. Or when they’d make ramen noodles, the cheap fifty-cent packaged ramen, and would add food coloring to it to change the color of the noodles and broth, always called it something stupid like brains or guts.

You smiled sadly, fondly, at the memories as you watched the cheese on the two pieces of bread, waiting for them to melt. Your hand reached for your phone and you turned down the music, eyes narrowing as you thought you had heard your name being called. You paused the music next, turned to face the entrance of the kitchen, and waited for a second. Quiet, everyone was still out. You were the only one in the hotel still.

You push play on the song once more, keeping the volume quiet as you focus back on the sandwich, placing the two pieces of bread together once the cheese has melted to perfection. Again, your head snapped towards the kitchen doorway as you once more thought you heard your name, this time followed by footsteps rapidly approaching.

You turned the music off once more, grabbed the pan, and placed the grilled cheese onto a plate. You couldn’t help as your mind wandered to all the shitty horror movies you had watched while alive, it had been one of your favorite movie genres. The shittier the better in your opinion. You sat down at the island and took a bite out of the grilled cheese and gave a low humming noise in response. Not as perfect as the ones you used to make, but still good enough to get praise.

A text appeared at the top of your phone as you scrolled and you smiled. You tapped on the text and responded. Finally, someone knew something or someone who knew more about the damned Radio demon. You asked for more information and turned the phone off as you felt the air shift. You reached over and grabbed another plate from the cabinet underneath the counter and placed it beside you. Then without a word, you placed your other half of your sandwich on the plate and offered it to the demon who now stood behind you.

Alastor didn’t say anything but you knew he was there. You took another bite out of your sandwich and motioned for him to take the plate, or to take the seat beside you. A moment passed, then another, and then the sound of the stool beside you being pulled out filled the silent air. He sat down next to you and looked over the sandwich with slight suspicion.

“It’s not poison. I’m literally eating it right now.” You answered the unasked question and you glanced at him. He laughed twice, a dry laugh that you weren’t entirely certain was his actual laughter. He picked the half sandwich up and looked it over.

“I am not a fan of liars.” He said, the radio filter covering his voice ever-present as he seemed to pull the crust off the sandwich. You watched, amused, as you didn’t think that the great Alastor would be one to be averse to crust on a sandwich.

You wiped your mouth and grabbed up your now empty plate, your stomach only partly satiated for the time being, and placed it into the sink for it to be washed later. “I haven’t said a word to lie about.” You answered simply and turned to face Alastor.

He hummed once. “Last night. Your clothes.”

“Oh right, yeah I lied about that.” You shrugged, took a step toward the island, and leaned against it, resting your head on your hand as you watched the other closely. “And?”

“You were out much later than what it should’ve taken to pack a bag as small as the one you brought.” He finally took a bite out of the now-cooling sandwich and you grunted. It would’ve been better if he had eaten the sandwich when it was still warm.

You nodded, not denying the fact as you watched him for a moment before looking away. “You’re right. I got distracted. Really that simple, but not exactly a good first impression.” Make yourself seem unimportant and useless, and then the Radio demon won’t be interested in you any longer. Make him believe that you were a nobody, and even he wouldn’t be able to stop your plans.

Step one was already complete thanks to the help of Velvette. Start breaking the rift, the cracks in the relationships that held the Overlords together. It was weak already, barely holding on by a thread, all it needed was a few more hits and down it would crash.

For a split second, it looked like Alastor was going to ask another question but he stayed silent. He finished the half of the sandwich you gave him and threw the crust away, placing the plate on top of yours inside the sink. “I am sure today was a much better first impression with everyone then.”

You nod and stretch, hearing the front doors of the hotel open and the voices of everyone returning filling the otherwise silent hotel. “Oh absolutely. I just cannot wait to see where this all goes.” You said and you couldn’t help the second meaning slipping in with your words, that you knew Alastor picked up on by the twitch of his ears. You give a single nod and quickly make your way out of the kitchen to meet back up with everyone to see how the rest of the day had gone, leaving Alastor alone in the kitchen.

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A/N: Hey! I would first like to say thank you to everyone who's read the fic so far! I am so glad y'all are enjoying it! You have no idea how excited and happy I am to see y'all excited and happy LMAO. Secondly, because I'm silly and goofy and love making playlist, I went ahead and made a playlist for this! It's liked just down below if anyone of ya wanna listen!

tags: @luleck @rl800 @literalzxmbie

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uhohbestie · 5 days

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There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 15]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite the tensions between them. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chatper 15 - With Scar up and walking again, the group decide to move on from their ghost town. Scar and Grian manage to get some time alone on their continued trek north, but can you really reconcile and reconnect over something you've yet to properly talk about?

📝 Words: 10,269

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 15 on AO3

—

“I need you to stop treating me like I’m made of glass,” Scar says in the privacy of his and Grian’s room, sitting on the edge of what’s become their bed as he packs the little he has into his bag. “I know my body. I know what I’m capable of. Trust me, Grian. These babies can go for miles.” He says it with a smile, patting his thigh with ample confidence.

“What if you can’t, though?” Grian asks, arms clutched around himself, saying what he no doubt feels they must both be thinking.

“Then you leave me next to a cactus to die,” Scar replies, flat. “And you hope the next time we meet we’re in a world with magic so I can wizard my legs better with a healing crystal or something.”

His words catch Grian’s attention. A tender curl of hope maybe, nurtured by the past two days of civility they’ve enjoyed.

“You think we’d meet in another life?” He asks, gentler than Scar would’ve expected.

It’s a concept Grian would’ve shrugged off before the apocalypse.

Now Scar finds him clinging to it with curiosity.

Scar gives him a look, caught somewhere between fond and frustrated by Grian’s priorities. Instead of answering, he braces his hands on his knees, leveraging himself up with a wince that he manages to almost completely hide.

“Let’s get going.”

—

Here we are with another chapter of Zombie AU! Dipping back into Scar's POV in this calm before the storm. We hope you like it!

You can read the whole story thus-far linked below!

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

#trafficshipping #scarian #life series fanfic #zombie au #TAMN #TAMN fic

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orchid-mantis-petals · 4 months

Text

WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHATPER 5

/ Hey!! Hey!! As promised Chapter 5 is here!! I will not apologize for the length at which it took me to get it done. Or for how long it is!! hehe

/ Thank you again to @maximumkillshot and @taeminsung both are huge inspirations to my writing and now dear friends of mine. They are what help fuel some of the ideas for this story. So please give their blogs some love.

/ Lastly before we return to the scheduled programs!! I will be uploading another post tonight. In it will be the over all rules to this blog. If you wish to see my stories and participate in what is to come with WHBY please be aware of the rules.

/ Genre: Fluff, angst, comfort

/ Warnings: Nightmare, talks of body, dressing up, drinking, partying.

/ Summary:

“You’re drooling,” Lee Know stated between sips of his drink. Changbin scrunched his nose as he turned to pick back up his own glass.

“Am not,” the way Lee Know looked at him was evident of the way he wasn’t convinced. Hell, he didn't even convince himself at that moment.

Japan’s airport was just as packed as Korea. But to you it wasn’t a surprise, Like before you had it all planned out. Every step you took, was a step taken as a team. This time it all went smoothly. On one hand you had decided to move your two problem members back a few spaces. It allowed Han and I.N. to have a new pair beside them. A pair that did their job seamlessly as you walked the boys out to the vehicles. Later you’d meet them at the hotel. It seemed they had begun to show you trust. Which was more than just a little relief to you.

The week in Japan consisted of 3 broadcasts for television and an awards show. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the schedules these young men held were incredible, you wondered what time they had to rest. Or did they even want to. It was easy to see, on day one of the broadcasts they were put in front of a live audience. The ease at which each of them handled the stage and choreo was awe inspiring. All eight of them had smiles on their faces, ear to ear. Lee Know was the easiest to spot, that stage was his. To you, in the way he moved it was as though there was a fire lit inside him. Every move made with purpose, every lyric delivered with perfect ease. Seungmin, you watched as he sang with his whole heart, bore it right there for the world to see. If he messed up?? You would never know, the confidence that exudes off his body had your brain asking for more. You saw their love for this in each and every one of them.

Truly though, you began to understand why they loved it during the third broadcast. Unlike the first two this one had no audience. It was just the boys, a stage, bright lights, and the music. Each day you were witness to these shows due to your clear access as a Security Guard. A privilege you wouldn't abuse. As you stood at the back of the studio your eyes scanned over the stage. It was more sterile, there was less decor, less to fill the room. That was until Stray Kids walked onto the stage. Each of them filled the space. Each and every move they made was planned, rehearsed, and prepped. To you, they were different here. If they were having fun you couldn’t tell, not because they looked upset. But rather than that, in this studio they focused on the professionality of it all. Without an audience to rile them up you could see that they wanted to look clean. Each line was delivered with their entire chest. Changbin moved with confidence, his rap sharp, loud enough it echoed over the mics and along the studio walls. Hyunjin poured himself into every dance move. It was as though his entire body was under his control, if he wanted it he did it. It was incredible to see each of them focus on their work. With an audience you could see the freedom they allowed themselves to have fun. Here, in front of a camera, they were clean, well versed. Talent, and eagerness flowed off of them. It filled the room. Once it brimmed all of it fell in one go. They gave their all in everything they did. Plain and simple.

“Starlight!! How did we do??” it started a few days ago, Felix had begun to call you that. Asked you how they did in every performance. Though you had only seen three.

“You guys did great!! Hyunjin really put his all into it. I could tell,”

“You should tell him that. I know he would like to hear it!!” you nodded, you hadn’t quite figured out where you stood when it came to the tallest of the group. Really you weren't sure of anyone besides Felix, Chan, and Changbin. The rest were still a mystery to you.

“Lix, are you bothering Y/N again??” Hyunjin joined the two of you with a towel resting over his shoulder as he stood beside the younger blonde.

“I am not a bother Jinnie, right Starlight??”

“No, Felix. I enjoy it when we talk,” you smiled at him. The effect was immediate. His face lit up, eyebrows lifted to the bangs that hung over his forehead. That perfect smile you had come to love broke on his features. With a slight jaunt he turned to Hyunjin.

“See Jinnie, Starlight likes me!!” you and the taller both laughed at his palpable excitement.

“Alright, I believe you. But only because Y/N said so. Anyway, why are you calling her ‘Starlight’??”

“Because!! Jinnie just look at her!! Isn’t she pretty?? And, and!! She has freckles!! Just like me!! Though hers are cuter!!”

“Lixie, breathe,” you reminded the younger as his excitement raised the octaves in his voice.

“Ah, sorry!! I thought of it when I saw you watching our show the other day. And even now it's perfect for you. Our one woman audience. A shining star for us to focus on!!” you blushed at his comment. No one had ever really said anything like that to you, never in a way you felt they meant it.

“Ah thank you Felix,” deep down you wanted to question him, your broken soul begged for the assurance that he was not joking. But when you looked at him, his eyes were big and round as he spoke to you. How his smile beamed brighter than you could have ever imagined it. Your simple thank you was proof enough that he meant every word to you. “Oh, Hyunjin, you looked great out there. I could tell you really put your all into it,” honesty must run in this group, as soon as you said that Hyunjin’s face perked up. You watched as his lips ticked upward, it was slight but you could tell. And when he moved to tuck away some of his long hair you could see the tips of his ears were tinted in a slight pink.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, your compliment seemed to tug at his heart. Maybe, just maybe Hyunjin wasn’t as much of a mystery any more. One by one, with time you would gain their trust enough to let you in.

…. …. …. ….

“Y/N, my darling, oh little dove there is no reason to cry. You belong to me. Now come here, come to me,” his hand a vice in your hair as he dragged your face close to his. The soft tone of his voice was a lie, his other hand came to clasp over your jaw as he forced you to look him in the eye. “Don’t you see dovey, you belong to me,”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!” your cries went unnoticed by the world around you. The familiar voice still rattled around in your head as you took stock of yourself. Every breath you took was ragged, your chest rose and fell with the labored effort to try and gain a steady rhythm. Rivulets of cold sweat rolled down the column of your hunched spine. One hand fisted in the sheets below you, so tight your knuckles were white. The other rested against your chest as you willed yourself to breathe. When your vision finally cleared up you recognized the unfamiliar setting of your Japan hotel room. The evening light cast a golden glow over the floor of your room. In any other moment you would have found it pretty, the way the sun set behind the tall city buildings. Right now though you found it haunting, a reminder of familiarity, one you begged to escape from. One you left behind in America. His voice pooled behind the empty space in your head. A half choked sob broke from your chest as your hands came to rest over your ears. The heels of your palms pressed hard enough you knew you’d have a headache later. But you didn’t care, all you wanted was for the voice to go away for his voice to go away. After a few minutes finally peace settled over your body once more. Your body finally allowed you to take long full breaths. With slow efforts you removed your hands from your head, every muscle sagged as the tension fell from your body. The midday nap after the awards show probably hadn’t been your best idea. But there was no reason to dwell on it now. After your muscles relaxed you slipped from the bed, a shower needed to wash away the remnants of your nightmare.

Not long after you had gotten cleaned up you heard a knock at your hotel door. Through the peephole you could see Han on the other side. You watched for a moment as he stood there hands behind his back, he rocked gently back and forth from his heels to to his toes. The face he made, lips pursed, eyebrows lifted into his hair. It reminded you of a child waiting for instructions from their parents. You opened the door seconds later, his entire body language changed in an instant. You watched as his pursed lips split up into a soft smile, his hands dropped down to his sides as he moved to greet you.

“Y/Nie why aren’t you ready??” He questioned, your appearance ready for bed in your pajama pants and t-shirt. Hair still damp from your shower. It was funny how reactive these men were, his brows set into a furrow as he took stock of you.

“Ready for what Han??”

“The after party!! Come on Y/N staff were invited to go!!” Oh right, the awards show had a private after party. It was fairly exclusive to the idols that participated and attended the event. But invitations had been extended to staff and family should they desire to attend. Parties..weren’t your thing. Most of your team had gone out for drinks while you decided to settle down for your disastrous nap.

“Ah, Han. I don’t like parties..Plus I didn’t pack anything for an event like that,” you remarked hand still on the door. You watched his expression shift into one of disbelief, then a pout. You could see why the others called him and Felix the ‘sunshine twins’ neither of them capable of hiding their emotions or expressions unless they absolutely had to.

“No!! Please!! Please come, it’ll be fun if we have you there!!” Deep down you wondered what you had done to get these boys so attached to you. Maybe it was the airport?? Either way it settled something strange in your gut. It was something odd and bubbly down in the pit of your stomach. You laughed as you shook your head at him. “Please!!” He begged eyes big and round as he pushed out his bottom lip toward you.

“Alright, alright Han. I’ll go. Though I have no idea what I will wear..” you looked back into your hotel room and the large amount of nothing that you had brought with you.

“That’s a problem I can fix!!” In his excitement he stepped into your hotel room and grabbed what he thought you might need before he took you by the hand and dragged you out. Your slippers half on as you waddled awkwardly down the hall behind him.

“Han, where are you taking me??”

“You’ll see!!” His giggles echoed off the empty halls as the two of you walked your hand in his. Just around the corner on the other side of the hall he stopped in front of a door and knocked. “Jinnie!! Lixie!! I brought a friend!!” He called out. Behind the door you heard slight shuffling before it opened with Hyunjin in the doorway.

“Han, if you brought another bug just to mess with me I’m going to cry,” the tall blonde remarked as he looked Han in the eyes. He then shifted and looked down at you, his cheeks flushed lightly at the idea that he unintentionally called you a bug.

“Jinnie, what do you take me for?? I hate bugs. That’s Seungmin’s favorite game. I brought Y/Nie!!” At the sound of your name you heard more movement before the door was shoved open more. Felix this time entered your vision before he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Starlight!!” He dragged you into the room Han and Hyunjin at your heels. “Awe why aren’t you ready for the party??” When you looked around you could tell the three boys were dressed for the party. Their attire was immaculate like they were. Han had gone with a more grunge look, skinny jeans, a cropped sweater, and a leather jacket he held onto for the time being. His accessories included a light silver waist chain, black choker and his usual style of earrings. His makeup smudgy and mostly consisted of dark browns and blacks. It was a stark contrast to his bubbly personality, but you knew that no matter what any of them wore, so long as they were confident they looked good.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, chose something more classy, clean. Like his red carpet attire for the awards show. You were sure if you looked at the tags it was all more than likely Versace attire. Being a brand ambassador he adored the clothes they gifted him to show off. His pants were a deep gray, suit style. He paired it with an obvious Versace belt that was classic to their logo and style. His shirt was a clean button up in faded white, French tucked. The top 3 buttons were open to display his choice of chains. Each one thin and delicate against his pale skin. But gold in color to stand out. A jacket on one of the beds matched his night style so you presumed it belonged to him.

Felix was an enigma to you still. His style was a mixed contrast to the other two boys. A pale colored turtleneck shirt with no sleeves. The collar folded down a touch so it didn’t cover the entire length of his thin throat. He overlaid it with one silver necklace a little gaudy for your taste but you could see the Louis Vuitton logo on it. So it clearly was a gift from the brand. Felix chose more of a ripped pants look for his shirt with a baggy flare to them. The dark gray was a nice contrast to his pale shirt. A second jacket, more of a varsity style bomber. Its colors of cream and blue fit well with the rest of his clothes. Compared to you..in your pajamas..you felt so out of touch. It was as if you fell into the grace of gods as you begged them for some kind of obligatory reward.

“I didn’t pack anything. So I wasn’t going to go,” you remarked after having spent probably far too long ogling their own clothes and appearances. You wondered why Han dragged you here, in your jammie shorts and ratty tank. Surely it wasn’t to humiliate you.

“WHAT?!?!” Hyunjin cried, disdain written over his features. Eyebrows curved upward as his eyes widened. “How could you not pack for something like a party,”

“I don’t have clothes like that Hyunjin,” a statement that baffled the rest of the room's audience. Hyunjin gasped with all his dramatics.

“How could you not have clothes for a party?? Y/N what kind of life have you been living?!?!” In his huffed disbelief he pulled you down to the office chair that was in front of a small desk. Laid out where various makeup brushes and makeup. Your nose turned at the sight. Did he expect you to do this?? No way..the first and last time you wore makeup was to a high school dance of sorts. Never again did you try and attempt to wear any after that. “Guess I’m gonna have to doll you up little Cinderella,”

“I bet I’ll have something that will fit her!!” Felix cheered as he rummaged through his suitcase for belongings. Hyunjin sat on the desk and turned on a bright lamp.

“Don’t you dare move,” he began, with a brush in hand and a pallet in the other he made slow movements to begin his work. Every now and then he looked at Felix. In his gaze you could see he was helping the Aussie decide what to dress you in. Han had stolen the mirror at your behest to keep it all a surprise. There you sat, in your pajamas, hair still damp, makeup being brushed against your skin in gentle strokes. “I don’t have your color in foundation but I don’t want to cover your pretty freckles anyway,” you simply nodded, not wanting to be scolded for talking or moving. So you stayed as still as possible. Hyunjin busied himself with your makeup while Felix and Han argued over your attire and accessories. At one point you wanted to scold them for bickering at one another. But a hearty chuckle left Hyunjin’s lips as he reached for a lip pallet. “Let them bicker. It’s all in good fun,”

“Yah!! Hannie!! Sit down you don’t know anything about fashion anyway,” Felix waved him off finally. It seemed Han relented when he scooted the loose armchair close to you.

“Hey pretty,” he leaned over the arm of the chair, his eyes blinked in wonder as he watched Hyunjin do his work. You laughed a soft little chuckle that stilled the room a moment before Hyunjin applied the lipstick. He refused to let anyone see the slight blush tint his cheeks at the sound you let out. Though you saw yet, you didn’t say a word to the others around you.

“Han, go into my case, pick out her jewelry,” Hyunjin sighed as he tipped his head toward his suitcase to get the excitable young man away from his work. “It’ll keep him busy,” he smiled down at you once Han scrambled away. You smiled back up at him. “Now what to do with your hair??” At that moment you realized none of them had seen your hair down or in its natural texture. For work you always had it up out of the way. In the week that you had begun your work with them you did just that. You kept it up and out of the way. They had yet to see you outside of work. Aside for right now.

“It’s naturally wavy. Please don’t blow dry it,” when your eyes met Hyunjin’s you made sure to give him a slight pout. By now your hair was mostly dry from the time it took for the taller male to do your makeup. He leaned back to look at your hair from where it lay against your back. With your makeup done the blonde moved to play with your hair.

“I love your natural texture, it suits you,” he remarked as he began to twist and braid some small sections of it. He pinned them back before he undid them all. With a quick look behind himself to Felix and Han he tried again. With great success he beamed turning the office chair to show the other two in the room his work.

“Look at you starlight!!” Felix bounded over scooping you into a hug. You returned it, a familiar unsettling filled your gut as he pulled away.

“Why are you guys doing this??”

“Because we want to,” Hyunjin stated as he packed up his makeup.

“To say thank you for taking such good care of us this week!!” Felix pulled you up from your seat, a wad of clothes placed in your hand as he ushered you to the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed you sighed with a shake of your head you began to change into the attire Felix had given you. When finished you exited the bathroom only to be crowded by Han who spent minutes piecing together jewelry and accessories on your body. By the end you stood awkwardly half in and half out of the bathroom doorway. “Wow Starlight!!” you blushed as they took in their handy work. Moments later Hyunjin handed you a pair of shoes and a small hand bag for your belongings.

“With that, I think it's time we get Cindy to the ball,” as he scooped your hands into his he turned you to face the bathroom mirror. “See pretty girl, we just want to show you off,” your eyes widened at the sight of yourself in the mirror. In all your years you’d been around you never once remarked yourself as ‘pretty’ but here, and now, at the sight of what the three boys collectively put together for you. You felt stunning, like never before you saw yourself in that mirror and smiled.

“Thank you,” you whispered to them as Hyunjin guided you along to the door.

“No need to thank us Starlight. You’re pretty as you are. We’re just happy you let us doll you up,” when he said it, when they spoke to you like that you believed it.

**** **** **** ****

This wasn’t his entire definition of ‘fun’. Having sat at a bar as he waited with Chan and Lee Know for the other boys to show up. An after party wasn’t his usual taste in enjoyment after a high energy awards show. But the younger four had insisted they attend. Chan, also pressed some, having stated it was a good opportunity to relax and get to know some of the other idols who attended. Changbin would rather be in his hotel room, eating crappy hotel food as he worked on the next song he had stuck in his head. Sure they just dropped a whole album but there was more. He always had more.

“Cheers to us,” Chan declared as he raised his glass. Changbin followed suit before he sipped at his own glass. On the dance floor he watched as I.N. and Seungmin made friends with some of the others their age. It was nice to see them branch outside of their own group. But that also led him to the current predicament. Where in the hell were Han, Hyunjin, and Felix?? The three of them were the most excited to participate in this party. It was odd that they had yet to arrive. He was rather irritated to say the least. Another swig of his glass before he scanned the room for the thousandth time. Finally. Finally he watched the door open and in came the test of the boys. Han skipped over, his eyes dead set on them. They glimmered in the dim light of the party. When he approached he noticed the quirked up smile as he settled beside Lee Know.

“Sorry we’re late. We had to get Y/N ready,” at the sound of your name Changbin zeroed in on Han, what had he done?? Had he and the rest dragged you out along with them. He sure hoped so. Felix was the next to appear with Hyunjin behind him. The taller stepped aside, he gave space for you to fit in the small circle of boys. Changbin nearly dropped his glass at the sight of you. Lee Know with his fast reflexes managed to scoop the drink from his lax hands and settle it back on the bar. None of them blamed him though. You were a vision.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he took you in. It was clear Hyunjin worked his magic over your face, the pale colors soft against your skin. It brought out the hidden tones in your eyes, showed off the scattered freckles that danced on your skin. The attire was clearly Felix. His regular brand choice alone was a dead give away. There you stood in your pleated black shorts that settled neatly over the tops of your thighs. He was obsessed with how it matched the pale blue crop top, the fabric fitted to the size of your chest perfectly. Just below your breast the fabric crossed over itself, a familiar style Felix liked. The sheer fabric sleeves moved gently as you talked, your hands captivated with the simple rings, thin against your fragile fingers. But he knew better, you were anything but fragile. As you stood there and chatted with the boys Changbin was captivated with the entirety that you were before them. Your hair down and splayed across your back the natural waves flowed with every laugh you let out, the top section twirled and pinned up into a pair of messy space buns. Gods he was obsessed, he didn’t dare say it aloud but he was obsessed with you. Right there in front of him. If only you knew what the mismatched pink and blue thigh highs did to him. How he could watch you move all day.

“The garters were my idea,” Han whispered in his ear. Damn him, damn that Quokka. And damn you in all your glory as you stood before him in the soft colored lights of the party. He kept his eyes on you as you idled amongst them. Felix was whisked away by I.N. moments after his arrival, he muttered something to you as he pulled the young aussie away. Changbin watched as your cheeks flushed in a shade of pink, and now Changbin wanted to know what the younger had said to you.

“You’re drooling,” Lee Know stated between sips of his drink. Changbin scrunched his nose as he turned to pick back up his own glass.

“Am not,” the way Lee Know looked at him was evident of the way he wasn’t convinced. Hell, he didn't even convince himself at that moment.

“If you don’t go dance with her I will,” it was an obvious threat, there was no way Changbin would fall for the bait. His Hyung had a goal in mind, but there was no way he’d fall for it. Lee Know hated these parties more than himself. There was no way he would drag himself off the bar stool, away from Han just to fuck with him. Right??.. Wrong, in his hesitance he watched as Lee Know settled his half empty glass into Han’s hands as he unwound himself from the side of the younger. In his confidence he approached you. “Y/N let's dance,” he didn’t ask, he wasn’t the type. Changbin watched as his elder deposited your own drink into the hands of their tallest member as he walked you to the dance floor. His hands splayed over the hem of your shorts, ever the gentleman.

“You can’t be shocked, Hyung. We got her all pretty, someone had to show her off,” Hyunjin giggled as he sat beside Changbin. The older mumbled under his breath as he turned to face the taller.

“Oooo, he's ballsy” before he could say anything his head whipped to the dance floor, his eyes landed on you as you moved your body in time with Lee Know his hands skirted your frame. Even from this distance he could see the twinkle in your eyes as you laid your arms on his neck. Changbin felt an unfamiliar feeling settle in his guts. You were stunning as you danced alongside a man he knew incredibly well. Yet the subtle feeling of what he could have only described as a rock in his stomach. The chatter around him disappeared as he watched you on that floor, your hips swayed in time with the music. He watched as your eyes slipped closed, there was no thought behind the beauty you were as you swayed to an easy rhythm. He wanted to watch you all day, everyday.

“Fuck it,” with a heavy clink Changbin abandoned his drink. A silly little whoop from what he assumed was Han and Hyunjin, he stepped onto the dance floor and beside Lee Know. The older looked over his shoulder to smirk, the usual crooked smile he used when he won a bet or got what he wanted. His eyes narrowed before he stepped out and let Changbin take up the space in front of you. As he passed by he made sure to give one more sly remark.

“Good luck, don’t let her eat you alive,” if you did, he would die a happy man. With the elder gone he finally allowed himself to take you in. Your eyes were still closed as you let your body move to the music around you. He wasn’t sure what cheesy remix the DJ was playing. Though he was sure he didn’t care. Not when you opened your eyes to look at him. A sparkle settled in them, he noticed the hidden green in the deep brown of your irises.

“Changbin!!” you shouted over the music. “Dance with me,” when your hands touched his he felt a spark zip up his spine. But he had just been there standing awkwardly as he watched you move. The least he could do is dance alongside you. This scenario wasn’t the best for idle chit chat. He knew that. Truly he did. But he tried anyway. When you set the meat of his big palms over your hips he couldn’t help but drag you close to his body. He desired to feel every inch of you against him. He knew it was wrong, he'd only known you for such a short time. But the desire to know you was a flame that slowly burned brighter with more of the time that passed between the two of you. When the music settled into something softer, still styled to an after party he allowed himself to speak. Having trust that his voice would not fail him he leaned in close, his lips inches from your ear as he spoke over the noise of the room.

“Why Korea??” you took a moment to ponder, he watched as you danced eyes off to the side to think of an answer. When you had it you moved closer to him, your soft lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke to him.

“It was time I tried something new. I am so happy I did. I got to meet you. All of you. Something along the lines of ‘leaving my past behind me’ you know??,” he blushed at your words, your honesty refreshing to hear. And yes, he did know. He often worked hard to continue to move past whatever was left behind, the what ifs and whens never bothered him. Not when his goal was so clear ahead of him. This time when he leaned down to speak to you he made sure to keep you close against him.

“I hope we don’t disappoint you,”

“You never disappoint me Changbin,” you smiled at him when you pulled away, your cheeks rosy as you put some space between the two of you. He let you go, but only so far. His hands rested against the bare skin of your back as the two of you moved in sync to the music. The room was crowded around the two of you. Occasionally he bumped into another person, but he didn’t care. Not with you right there, his entire world zeroed to focus on you as you danced with him. Nothing, no one else mattered. Not with you at his side.

**** **** **** ****

13 missed calls: Caller ID Unknown

1 missed message: ‘I will find you Dovey,’

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

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faegoddessog · 11 months

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Seventy Two hours of Bliss- Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

WARNING:

Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons. Chapter specific warnings listed at the beginning of each installment.

Tipping is now enabled, should you feel so inclined. If not, that is totally fine. I just ask that you please enjoy the hell out of my story. 😈🔥❤️

Chapter 1: Hey, It's only dinner

Chapter 2: Behind Your Closed Door

Chapter 3: Dark Chocolate Ice Cream

Chapter 4: We have Demons All

Chapter 5: "Show Me"

Chapter 6: Slow and Relentless

Chapter 7: Pretty Shades of Pink

Chapter 8: The Goddess at Natural Bridge

Chapter 9: Dreams that Spill Into Reality

Chapter 10: Shower Kisses

Chapter 11: Glorious Surprises

Chapter 12: What Happens Under the Blanket...

Chapter 13: Big Spoon, Little Spoon

Chapter 14: Thunderstruck

Chapter 15: Snap.

Chapter 16: Lesson one: round two

Chapter 17: The Agony and the Ecstasy

Chapter 18: Just Be Us

Chapter 19: Over and Over and Over

Chapter 20: Le Roi

Chapter 21: Sixty Steps Away

Chapter 22: Unfinished Business

Chapter 23: So hot, I can’t stop

Chapter 24: Elvis in the building

Chapter 25: Be Brave

Chapter 26: Living on the Edge

Chapter 27: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you”

Chapter28 : A Glittering Night Out

Chapter29: Countdown

CHapter 30: A lil' Splash of Tea

Chatper 31: Quarantine

Chaper 32: Movin' on Over

Chapter 33: Overwhlem in the Stars

Chapter 34: Sweetness and buttplugs and cockrings, oh my!

Chapter 35: The Road Ahead

Chapter 36: What a girl wants

Chapter 37: Elysium's End

Chapter 38: Letters from the Ice

Chapter 39: Empty Apartments

Chapter 40: Mangoes and English Oak

Chapter 41: Now and Forever

#austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #known side effects: may cause dehydration #Austin Butler as sex god

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alyshiba · 1 year

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Lilagon hen zaldrizoti

Part Ten: Storm's End

Read on Ao3

Summary: AU where Visenya, Rhaenyra's only daughter lives and is born as her eldest child. To all of Westeros she is seen as the only trueborn child of Ser Leanor and Rhaenyra, but in truth her father happens to be Deamon.

Author's note: Hi, this a shorter, filler chapter. I do not really enjoy writing these, but they are needed towards the story itself. As per the previous chatper I'll live here the links to the two maps I use to find places, and calculate travel time, so that if you wish you can better follow the movements of each character. "this map of Westeros from AWOIAF which details every major point of interest. This way we all can know where anyone is at any given moment, and how might they get there, and the other is isochronic map of Westeros by Atlas of Ice and Fire which basically shows how many days of travel are needed to reach any place in Westeros. This last map is foundamental in creating a timeline I find. Of course, if any of you are also writing a ff, or planning to, look at this resources, they are amazing!"

Warning: Violence, burning, death by fire

As Balerion kept bathing the castle with his dark flames Visenya could clearly see the uppermost levels of the keep slowly turning red. The red hue became brighter and brighter every passing minute, so much so that it illuminated the surrounding areas to the round tower that made the main body of Storm’s End. It almost seemed like it wasn’t the dead of the night.

From below it must look like an eerie, terrible, sunset illuminating the castle grounds, if it wasn’t for the enormous beast currently blasting the tower with his flames.

From her position she couldn’t see much of the stone structure, or rather what was happening to it, but her mind held a rather specific image of what it must look like, for she had read about it, and she had seen Harrenhall once.

The shouts and terrible screams of those who were on the battlements had long since vanished. In truth they lasted moments, the fires so hot it incinerated, or melted, she didn’t know exactly, those people almost instantly. If indeed Borros Baratheon was amongst his soldiers, there was nothing left of him now.

Visenya lost track of the time, but she bid Balerion to stop his fires, and when the last of his flames died out in the wind, she noted how the battlements of the higher layer of the keep had melted down.

She hadn’t intended to burn the entire thing to the ground, but rather just to remind the stormlanders, or any other who might entertain the idea of opposing them, just how deadly the situation might get. How pointless it was to stand against the black dread.

She vividly remembered reading about Aegon’s battle at Harrenhall, how the riverlords had reported seeing the high towers of the keep melting like wax candles in the night.

Storm’s End was now no different, with the fire melting down parapets, merlons and parts of the walls of the keep’s higher level.

It indeed looked like a great, fat, candle melting down. She hoped it was enough of a message, she hoped she didn’t have to do it again. Balerion didn’t really care.

She also knew that the stone would maintain his red hue for hours into the night.

Visenya had Balerion landing on a nearby watchtower, to better inspect the situation down below.

Upon agreeing to send her here, her mother had ordered a small host to accompany her, or rather, to immediately prepare and march to Storm’s End. To assist her in conquering the keep, and to hold it. It was too vital of a spot to allow it into the enemy's end.

The host her mother ordered to follow her, which departed several days ago, could be seen in the distance. The faint flames of the camp’s torch a beacon in the dark night. They likely were already moving in her direction.

She waited to hear the distinct sound of the cavalry approaching before ordering her dragon to move and perch atop the walls and gates of Storm’s End, where she would address those who fled the castle.

None fought as the soldiers lined up and surrounded the group of people. And none spoke when she decided to join them on the ground to address them.

Balerion reluctantly climbed down the wall, and allowed her to dismount. He didn’t move any further, placing his huge wing talons on either side of her. To have better reaction time should anyone entertain stupid ideas.

<<When I came here last, some moons ago>> Visenya began, willing her voice to be loud, strong and unfaltering, <<Lord Baratheon swore allegiance to his rightful Queen, my mother. Some of you were present I’m sure>> she scanned the crowd and easily spotted the Baratheon girls still mounted on horseback, still flanked by what she assumed were loyal and selected members of their household guards.

The Targaryen host’s arrival had likely prevented their escape.

<<Yet not even half a year later he decided to break this oath, his own word, rebel against the crown and wage war upon his own blood>> She said this last peace looking at the eldest, Cassandra if she recalled correctly, directly in the eyes.

<<I’m sure that there is no need to remind you that my grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, is Lord Borros' own cousin.>> In truth she wasn’t even sure some of these people knew. How many years had passed since Lady Jocelyn’s death ? How many of them had been alive when her grandmother was born? Not many, she assumed, looking at the young faces.

<<The Ladies will be escorted back to King’s Landing, were they will be given protection and quarters befitting of their station, for they are, after all our kin>> She resumed looking at Cassandra, trying to understand what manners of emotions might show on her face. What her allegiances were. <<and my mother the Queen>> she stretched Rhaenyra’s title, <<does not wish for her kin to be harmed>> unlike the usurper and his rebellious lord, but she didn’t need to voice that part of the sentence.

<<Storm’s End now belongs to Lady Cassandra, as Borros’ eldest issue, unless he was to be recovered alive>> The girls faces were a mask, rage perhaps, or fear, either one of those emotions ruled their expressions, she hoped it was fear, it was the most useful out of the two options, <<the Queen expects your oath of allegiance as soon as you will reach the capital>>.

Visenya ordered her men to spare a unit to clear whatever parts of the keep were safe to enter, to find and assist any wounded. And bury whatever death could be recovered.

<<Consider it a mercy that I was the one who came and not the Prince Consort>> She said to the Baratheon soldiers and the girls when Visenya passed them to reach the camp.

<<How is this a mercy?>> Called one of the guards, a middle aged man clad in fine armor, their commander, perhaps, she turned to face him <<do you think Daemon Targaryen would have spared your lives?>> She didn’t need to hear the response.

Visenya then strolled to her tent, where she would spend the night, with Balerion curled up around it, for the castle’s sleeping quarters were either melted down or too hot to even be close to.

Upon entering the tent set up for her, she heard, and felt, Balerion's huge body wrapping around it, like a giant, fire breathing, wyrm. It immediately made her feel safer.

Visenya took one look at the map that was laid on a small wooden table close to her bedroll. A map of the stormlands and closest areas.

She ran a finger on the smooth piece of parchment, Cregan and Ser Edric should be closer to Bitterbridge now, if not past it already. If they didn’t encounter any obstacle at all in their travel. She prayed they didn’t.

Aemond should be in Oldtown however. Still she hadn’t heard any whisper, gossip or rumor regarding that matter. If it was a good or a bad thing, she didn’t know.

<<Princess?>> Shouted a voice from outside. Visenya regrettably moved towards the exit, Balerion shifting at the same time. The man in front of her was the commander of the unit, a knight formerly at the command of the city watch under her father. One of Daemon’s trusted.

<<Come in>> She said retreating to the tent.

Visenya sat on the bedroll, expecting a full report that came immediately, <<the Ladies have been placed in a tent guarded by my most trusted men, the soldiers that had accompanied them are being interrogated right at this moment>> to grasp any information on Aegon, armies, supply chains and whatnot. <<The men you ordered in the castle returned with some wounded: servants mostly. Still there were no tracks of the usurper, nor of the former Lord Baratheon. He likely perished on the walls>>.

She unceremoniously grabbed the small wooden table and dragged it in front of her, <<should we expect any attack from Borros’ lords?>> She asked, eyeing the closest castles.

Visenya had expected to find Storm’s End empty, arriving to find Borros, his daughters and any loyal men having fled at the news of a Targaryen host marching in their direction.

Her gender, maybe, made him too question her resolve to uphold her own word.

And for his stupidity, he burned. Likely melted down to be forever part of his own keep.

Daemon would find it rather poetic.

<<Not yet>> Not while the dragon outside lingers in the camp. Rebels or not, men are not stupid enough to walk in the maws of a dragon.

<<But Lord Baratheon had called his banners, and prepared a host>> Gone, that one, with Aegon probably, <<should they return, we expect a siege>> not a hill to die on, the commander was trying to tell her. But neither a keep to leave to enemies.

Half melted or not, Storm’s End is one of the most secure castles in the continent. His walls could withstand a long siege, and the rough seas beyond could provide a supply chain to make it long and tiring.

<<We are to hold Storm’s End>> Visenya said, remembering her mother’s order, Daemon’s words whispered to her hear the night before, she bet, <<I will personally patrol to locate any and all hosts nearing>>, she memorized the map in front of her, the castle, the terrain and which routes might be taken. <<I want the Baratheon girls to start the journey to the capital at dawn>> The man nodded, to have moving out of their liege’s lords territory as soon as possible, <<they are too valuable hostages to lose, so entrust them to your most loyal men, send half the host if you deem it safer. As soon as we send word, the Queen will dispatch a larger host to join us>>.

She resumed looking at the map, to decide what the better course of action would be. Holding and securing this part of the stormlands was vital to avoid being cut off completely by their dornish allies.

<<Send word to Tarth: they rather renew their allegiance to the Queen, or I shall fly Balerion to Evenfall Hall>> The man nodded, <<I don’t think there’s need to explain how vital the island is, should Storm’s End be sieged>> ensuring a supply route and any routes towards Dorne must be their priority.

<<Do the same with every lord of the stormlands, but the closest to our location have precedence>> She then unrolled another map: Dorne and the southern stormlands. It was given to her by Ser Edric; these maps indicated each and every passage through the mountains that connected the two kingdoms.

<<As soon as reinforcements arrive from the capital, I wish you to send a sizable host to hold Nightsong and Harvest Hall, to secure the prince’s pass>> Visenya pointed each keep on the map as she mentioned them, <<you will also send a smaller host to Balckheaven, you will do so in secret, to hold the boneway. It will be our main source of supply from Dorne. There are many watchtowers in the mountains between the two passes: as soon as they are both secure we must send men to mend and hold them, they will be eventually joined by the dornish.>>

Visenya finally dismissed the man with additional orders: to secure the rainwood, as soon as it was possible to send men, and keep the household guards in the dungeons of Storm’s End, to avoid any escape.

When she at last slouched on the bed she thought of Aemond, if he was indeed in Oldtown, if he had betrayed her already. Or if he was to keep true to his word.

—

The answer to that question arrived days later, with a messenger sent from the capital: the beacon on the Hightower glows green, the piece of parchment said.

The message was sent from Honeyholt, the seat of Lord Beesbury, the man, Ser Westerling said, that Cole had killed after he had sworn allegiance to her mother.

The man soon after strode off to King’s Landing with her own message to deliver, and left Visenya to study those she received. Her father had included the original piece of parchment in the midst of all the orders he had for the man in the camp, the same she had already given days ago. She let a bit of pride unroll in her mind.

She studied the small piece of parchment, a message via crow, given the small dimension.

It was written in Aemond’s handwriting. That was why her father had included it.

It was a silent request: why is your husband in the middle of enemy territory and not by your side? Visenya, back then, didn’t include her father in her planning. Didn’t mean to even now, or else any and all chances existing, however small they were, to settle this war fast and with little casualties would disappear, gone like tides early in the morning. Daemon was not a man of peace.

She decided to simply ignore her father’s implications, and break her fast at last.

Visenya was now located within the castle, since it cooled down enough to allow men inside, in the last days.

Slowly the entirety of the host was moved within the castle grounds: those of higher station were given room inside the keep itself, yet a lot simply had moved the tents from outside the gates to the main courtyard.

At least they were within the safety of Storm’s End’s high walls.

Visenya readied herself for flight after consuming her small breakfast, composed of hard bread, cheese and dried meat. There had been no point in bringing fancy foods to battle.

Today she would fly off towards Nightsong later, but in doing so she would soar above the rainwoods, and each of the stormlands’ houses whose loyalty was uncertain.

The lord of Tarth had sworn his loyalty to the Queen, the other neighboring keeps however had been emptied of all their fighting men, all of which she knew, now lined with the army of her uncle, who had still had to make an appearance.

He would strike when he was sure the dragons were as far away as possible, surely. And with Daemon in the riverlands, only Meleys and Syrax remained in King’s Landing.

If Aegon was indeed in Oldtown, she had to hope that her plan would work. If he had fled, she had to ensure the blow was so great he needed to respond.

That thought accompanied her towards her dragon. Balerion was licking his thumbs, he had just broken his fast himself, and was more than ready to fly off. Not to battle today, though, a host had already secured the vital keeps they needed, but to make sure everyone on land saw her dragon, and remembered what had occurred merely days ago in Storm’s End. What could befall on them.

—

Storm’s End burned.

Rather, it melted down on itself, like the great towers of Harrenhall. Just like she had promised.

Aemond gripped the handles of his chair until his knuckles became white. She had burned one the greatest keeps on the continent to ground, or halfway to, the reports were blurry.

An eerie silence fell on his great uncle’s council room. No one believed that it could happen again, that Visenya would indeed do as she promised, that she would stomach going to war herself.

She had been already, he had said to Lord Ormund, to the Stepstones, and won’t shy away from battle, he had hoped they would listen and cease this nonsense, Yet the council of Lords had declared that his wife’s womanly instincts would make her turn away to the safety of the capital, no matter the dragon she rode.

How wrong they had been.

<<Your sole hope, great uncle, is to cease this nonsense>> He quietly said, <<Aegon is dragonless, thanks to my wife, Daeron is hostage in King’s Landing, Tessarion locked in the pit>> He said for what felt like the millionth time, <<and I won’t accourse my name and honor in riding to battle with my own wife>> sue for peace, he wanted to say, sue for peace be content that I could sit the throne when it passes to Visenya.

He knew it was pointless to voice this idea, Aemond one-eye, they called him, as if the missing eye made him half a man. Useless save for his dragon and his wife.

Aemond stood unceremoniously when the lords at the table began talking again. Ignoring what he had just said.

The ache on his face was pungent now, as if Lucerys’ blade was still cutting his flesh open, even years later. It would never go away, the maesters had said, the cut was so deep that he had to live the rest of his life with painful consequences.

He quickly strode towards the chambers that had been assigned to him, fast, but not fast enough to give the impression that he was in a hurry, or in pain. He reached the old wooden doors, pushed them open and quickly locked them behind himself.

The wound pulsing under his eyepatch.

Aemond had quickly learned the patter of his pains: sometimes it would be like needles picking at his skin, other times he would feel the sapphire scratching at the back of his head, other times, like this one, the pain slowly began so much and so acute his only hope was essence of nightshade. To fall asleep and pray all of the seven he could sleep long enough that when he awoke, the pain would be gone.

So Aemond discarden his eyepatch, strode towards his nightstand, where the nightshade was always waiting for him, a new cup each day. Downed it and shut the blinds, to create absolute dark. The perfect condition to quickly fall asleep.

In the dark he clawed at his face, as if the pressure from his hands would somehow ease the burning pain he was feeling, he was almost out of breath.

By memory, as he had been forced to do since those fateful days, he found the bed and fell on it. He always had to memorize rooms, halls and any other space, if he hoped to navigate them without showing any problems with his sight.

With that thought in mind, Aemond fell asleep. And dreamt of castles and towers melting down, surrounded by black flame.

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itsagirlwithglasses · 1 year

Text

A Shadow’s Tale - Chatper Two

Azriel x Pirate!FReader

Chapter Two

Summary: Y/N tries to bargain with the High Lord, ends up stuck 10,000 steps above ground in a house full of secrets.

Word Count: 3,000+

a/n: I was not expecting the amount of love I had on chapter one!! Thank you so much!! I hope you love this one as much!! Can’t wait to hear your thoughts? Happy Mother's Day!

Warnings: none

Of all the lessons you got growing up, swordsmanship was always something you loved. You were good at it. Too good. Your father always proud of having such a weapon tried his best to keep you hidden, safe, but your wild spirit didn’t allow you to keep it to yourself. You were eager to grow up and fight, and train with the others. Even if it displeased the great Captain Hook. You knew you had a target in your back when everyone found out about the daughter of the incomparable pirate of the seas but that never stopped you.

You quickly learned how and when to pick your fights. And that’s why your hands were tied behind your back with shadows. You knew it was work from the spymaster. A shadowsinger, a myth that turned out to be such a weird reality. Who controls lights and shadows? How?

The High Lord was walking a few steps ahead of you. You kept silent, accessing the dark walls and the dim lights on the ceilings, certainly to intimidate.

A door at the end of the corridor was open by some force and a room with a table and a few chairs was beyond it.

The three of you walked inside and Azriel signed for you to sit. You did as told and the High Lord turned around locking his gaze on you. You felt those same claws in the back of your mind and you knew it was him trying to access your thoughts or perhaps your memories. You took a shuddering breath and then you heard his voice in your head.

We can either do this the easy way or the hard one. Luckily for you, I’ll let you choose.

Daemati. You thought as you recall the lesson on magics of the mind.

You saw him smiling darkly and he came closer sitting on the table in front of you.

That’s correct. Now, tell me.

You huffed trying to adjust yourself on the chair as your hands were still restrained. You took a look at the spymaster and then looked to the High Lord. You licked your lips before starting talking.

“If you know who I am, you know why I am here.”

“Let me tell you what I know, sweetheart.” He purred venomously and you lifted your chin almost in defiance. “You and your crew sailed into my court, through my wards, uninvited.” He smiled narrowing his eyes, “How?”

“You tell me.” You spat not breaking the eye contact and you saw his smiled faltering as recognition hit him.

“It’s impossible, they’ve been lost at sea since…” He stopped himself and you cocked your head smiling. “How?”

“I know humans are the ones who write the stories about us, just like they do about you fae, what do they tell you about pirates… Rhysand?”

The room became very quiet suddenly but no one moved.

“Where is it?” He said suddenly and you could feel the darkness of his power on your skin. His emotions coming through his power. Your smile never faltered even if your heart was trashing wildly in your chest.

“That will depend… Do I and my crew have your blessing to stay and recover after Hybern’s hit?”

“You want an alliance?” His eyebrows rose and he laughed mockingly scratching his chin. “Your father was allied with Hybern, you all helped attacking the Summer Court, I had to send my Illyrians and my army to help stop the bloodshed… And now you come into my court wanting alliance?”

“Now, don’t put us all in the same bag Rhysand.” You spat his name, “My father’s choices were never my own.”

“You all crawled from the same sack, I don’t care if you had a say in it, I don’t trust you, why should I after everything?”

“Hybern does not know of the existence of these objects, or better said, that I have them in my possession… They could be the difference between winning and losing the war.”

“Who else knows about them?”

“Me, my second, now you and the creep in the corner.” You took a glance at the spymaster and winked mockingly.

“I want to see them, then I’ll make a decision.” He got up from the table and you furrowed your brows.

“You see that’s not gonna happen.” He looked at you with a death promise in his eyes and you stood face to chest to him and looked up. “You know they’re real and you know I have them, after all how could I have sailed past your wards?” You noticed Azriel stepping closer and preparing to jump on you if you did something to his High Lord. “We will do this my way, or we can forget this meeting at all and I’ll sail somewhere else… I kind of miss the spring anyways.” You raised your eyebrows defyingly and you felt him in your mind before he spoke.

Do not disrespect me in my court Ms Hook. And be careful with the game you’re playing, let’s all hope you’ve got it in your arsenal to back up all that talk.

Is my alliance such an ordeal for you that you can’t see beyond your hatred?

I’ll think on it.

What about me and my crew?

“There’s plenty of lodges and apartments in the city, your crew might visit and stay while we negotiate the terms of our… situation.” He said and nodded to the spymaster who stayed put with his gaze fixed on you. “Everyone will be closely watched, one foot out of way and I’ll know.” He came closer to your face and you swallowed, your confidence and adrenaline slowly leaving your body. “And you will be the one paying for it.”

You only nodded as he started walking out of the room.

“What about me?” You looked at his back as he walked away but he only waved his hand dismissing you and you scoffed. “Entitled prick.” You muttered and felt a cold hand on your elbow.

“You’re coming with me.” Azriel said with zero emotion crossing his face and wondered if Rhysand also had been talking to his spymaster this whole time. Suddenly you felt like a fool but quickly shut out the thought.

“Where? Back to your five star hotel?”

“No, this one has a better view.” And without another word he and threw you over his shoulder making you yelp.

—

Flying. You were flying.

You couldn’t help the giggle that left your mouth at the sight. The city underneath was so small the people looked like ants. The cold bite of the wind and the adrenaline pumping your blood made your cheeks flush. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being so far away from the ground. You took one look at Azriel’s face and you saw some sort of amusement in his face but he quickly concealed it.

His grip on you was firm and you felt him everywhere. It was intoxicating, his touch, his scent. Not once he spared you a look, his focus was ahead and you look in the same direction seeing the building you were approaching.

It was breathtaking and you couldn’t help but gape at the view.

“That’s where we are going?” You shouted over the wind in his ear and he didn’t give up any reply.

His wings kept beating at a steady pace and you observed them curiously.

After you left the dungeons, he made you promise to behave if he were to unrestrained you. You agreed and when he picked you up bridal style you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“Flying is the easiest and fastest way to get to where we’re going.” He had told you, “I hope you don’t get flight sick.” He said before taking to the skies making you hold onto him tighter.

You reached a hand towards the base of his left wing feeling how waxy the membrane was and then you were screaming as you lost some altitude. You gripped him tighter closing your eyes preparing for a hit. But it never came, you were still in the sky as he quickly recovered.

“Don’t.” He snarled at you, “Ever touch my wings again.”

You looked in his eyes and you saw the hatred and darkness in his gaze. There it was was. The ruthless killer you always heard people talking about and fearing. And you were in his arms, hoping he didn’t decide against his High Lord and drop you and make you go splat on the city grounds.

You made no more sounds, only looked away. Finally you reached the balcony and he dropped you on the ground not so gracefully.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” You blurted getting on your feet but he had already gone inside the double doors. You took a few deep breaths trying to contain your emotions.

You were not going to cry over that idiot treating you like shit just because of an innocent touch. Not after all you’ve through with you father and Hybern. You waited a few minutes breathing the fresh air and then walked inside. The room was silent and you looked around trying to find Azriel but there was no sign of him. You frowned.

“Who are you?” A feminine voice came from behind you and you quickly turned to find a girl with golden brown hair and grey-blue eyes staring at you with her arms crossed over her chest.

She was wearing what you recognized as Illyrian fighting leathers but you frowned at the pointy ears and the lack of wings.

“Is… This place your house?” You lifted your chin and she walked closer.

“Sort of,” She frowned, “Who brought you in?”

“I did.” Azriel appeared from other room, which you guessed was the kitchen as he was holding two cups of water.

At least his anger seemed to ebbed away as he walked towards you offering you one of the glasses. You eyed it suspiciously and then looked at him, he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not poisoned, just take it.” He forced it into your hands and you took it offering him a fake smile.

“Always the gentleman,” You said and took a sip. Your throat felt immensely better afterwards.

“You’re a pirate?” The girl asked directing my attention back to her.

“Sort of,” I answered just as she had and she chuckled.

“Fair enough, are you hungry?”

“Starving.” You replied and walked towards her.

Something about his girl just attracted you and for some reason you knew you could trust her.

“I’m Nesta,” She guided you towards the dining room and plates with food appeared at the table magically. You gawked at it and you heard her laugh. And it was such a lovely sound.

You took a sit. “This is a lot of food even for me,” You joked and she simply smiled taking a seat on your left, Azriel sat on your right.

You heard it then, the commotion and the voices and laughter. Your smiled faltered and you stood there between them staring at your empty plate as the table filled up with other fae including the now familiar dark presence.

The silence settled and you felt all their eyes on you. You swallowed and then you heard him.

“This is Miss Hook, she will be joining us for a while.” The High Lord spoke amidst the silence and you finally looked up at him in confusion.

Be nice. He talked into your mind and you lifted your chin nodding slightly.

“What’s with the costume?” A red hair male asked in confusion taking in your clothes and you looked at him. He looked so out of place in this court. In your best guess you’d say he belonged to the Autumn Court.

“I’m a pirate.” You replied softly and slowly taking in his surprised reaction. Then looked around the room and frowned.

No one else seemed surprised by this, the High Lord must have warned them. But there was a female with fae features, golden brown hair and brown eyes who also seemed surprised and curious.

“A pirate? Like from the human stories?” She asked, her voice was soft and her beauty made her look so innocent like a fawn, you only nodded. “They are myths amongst mortals… Do you have a ship?” She was smiling in awe and you chuckled.

“Yes, I could show you someday if you wish.” Azriel went stiff next to you and you looked at him.

“It’s not that great, I’ve seen it.” The general, who was sitting across the table from you said and you looked at him narrowing your eyes.

“You clearly have a lack of taste then.” Nesta on your side laughed lowly into her napkin and you saw the general chuckling too as they exchanged a look.

You felt like there was some joke you were missing out on and suddenly felt like a fool. Silence fell again and everyone started eating.

“I’d love to visit it someday.” The female spoke again and you looked at her with a grateful smile.

“So you’re he daughter of Captain Hook, just like in those stories?” The female sitting next to Rhysand asked.

“In the flesh.” You answered dryly tired of being the bottom of the joke and you gained a glare from Azriel, the general and Rhysand. “What?” You swallowed your food looking at them one at a time.

“Be careful how you speak to my High Lady.” Azriel narrowed his gaze and you looked between the males and the female, Feyre Archeron.

You had heard all about her. From Under the Mountain to the High Lord of Spring, to Rhysand. You nodded in recognition.

“My bad… Your majesty.” You saw her rolling her eyes but not at you, at them.

“Ignore them, and please… don’t call me your majesty.” She snorted a laugh and you gave her a polite smile.

She would be a great ally in order to get Rhysand to accept an alliance with you and your crew and you made a mental note to try to get her alone to speak.

—

After dinner the food and plates vanished with the same magic they had appeared and you looked at the now empty table curiously.

“Are you going to take a drink with us how are you going to keep gawking at the table?” The tall blonde female appeared holding out a glass of wine for me and you took it from her mumbling a thanks.

She was about to leave the dining room to join the others but you grabbed her delicate hand stopping her. She turned to you with her eyebrows raised and a smile, “Yes?”

“What’s your name?” You gave her your best smile.

“Morrigan, but my friends call me Mor.” She gave me a bigger smile this time, “My cousin can seem all big and scary but the fact that you’re here and not stuck in the dungeons means he trusts you… Well, kinda.” She laughed and you only nodded.

“What did… What did Rhysand told you… about me?” You asked in almost a whisper and she looked at you as if she was searching your face for something.

“Rhys is… not very trusting, specially if people come through his wards and sail in unannounced.” She chuckled and you joined, “He is a good male, and I don’t know what it is but… There’s something about you... Different. Good.” You swallowed trying you best not to react at that, “And I know he sees it too.”

You only nodded and you both joined the group. You walked to the balcony appreciating the cold air the castle in the sky gave you. You closed your eyes and took a breath in thinking back to your crew, to Bonny and Sebastian who were probably worried sick about you. You had to go to the city and find them. Make sure they were alright. Make sure that the High Lord had kept his promise.

How could you trust any of these people? What if Bonny was right and this won’t be as easy as you thought? What if you just walked into a trap? How far up are you right now? How the hell do you reach the ground floor from here? You walked back inside taking in the group that was now sprawled around the living room.

Azriel was in a corner talking to the beautiful female from earlier. They were super engage in a conversation mostly whispering. The red head male was talking to Rhysand, his posture was tight, just as it had been during dinner, as if he was uncomfortable around them in a way.

Morrigan was sipping her wine and talking to Feyre in one of the couches.

Nesta and the General were cozying up on another couch and realization hit you. Mates. You could definitely smell it now that they were close together.

“I’d like to go to back my crew now.” You announced to the group and Rhysand looked at you smiling darkly while shaking his head.

“You’re free to take the stairs if you dare, but you’re staying here otherwise.” He said and you chuckled.

“I’ll take the stairs then.” You said decisively and you heard some chuckles. You’re a fool. Your brain seemed to scream at you but you shook off the thought walking towards the door that was hiding the stairs.

You opened them and inhaled loudly.

“How many?”

“Ten thousand.” It was Nesta who had replied and you closed your eyes taking a deep breath. You turned to the group.

“Can’t one of your bats take me?” You bit off annoyed.

“My bats are not mules, so no.” He replied with an irritating smile on his lips.

“Where am I supposed to stay then?”

“Nesta will show you to your rooms,” you saw the female glaring at him but getting up all the same and making you to follow her.

You asked for some alone time once you got there and she let you to explore the room that was huge. A four poster bed against the further wall in the middle, a walk-in closet and a door that gave access to the bathroom. To the right of the window there was a ceiling to floor window that opened to a balcony. Everything was decorated in Night Court style and it seemed incredibly cozy despite the dark decorations.

You turned towards the door locking it and then decided for a bath. You took your time in the bath and noticed that the water did not get cold despite how long you were under it. You smiled saying a little thanks, to who you didn’t know… Magic. You chuckled a little playing with some bubbles and then playing with the water creating water balls in between your hands and fingers. The buzz of creating magic making your heart beat a little faster.

You really liked magic, but as no one else knew about it, you could only yield it in private, where no one could see you. Despite the feeling you had of being observed at that very moment.

-------

Who is it? Are you paranoid or is someone actually watching you? What do you think is going to happen next? I can't wait to hear your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3

Next Chapter

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writereleaserepeat · 1 year

Text

Hear No Evil - Chapter 4

Previous // Next

CW: bbu, bbu-adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, dehumanizing intent by using it/its pronouns, ableism, food mention, starvation

[A/N at the end of the chatper]

Rowan spent fifteen minutes pacing in his hallway before he settled on who he would call. A lump lodged in his throat every time he passed by the box the boy arrived in - what was he even supposed to do with it now? - and his heart fluttered whenever his finger hovered over his chosen contact.

“How are you supposed to help this victim recover if you can’t even make a phone call, you idiot?” Rowan chastised himself as he rubbed his palm against his brow. Rationally, making a call was the best way to get himself and his new houseguest some help. Rationally, Rowan knew that this had to happen sooner or later. But rationality hadn’t exactly been governing Rowan’s choices over the past two days.

It took another two minutes of anxious pacing before he sat at the kitchen table, hit the call button, and heard the phone ring once, twice, three times and-

“Hey there, Rowan,” the familiar and ever-cheerful voice said, and it hit Rowan like a ray of golden sun. “What’s up, man? You doing alright after the liquidation event yesterday? I know those are hard on you.”

Rowan paused, took a breath, and closed his eyes. Now or never.

“Listen, Grey, I might have done something a little impulsive when I was there.” The entirety of his admission wasn’t quite ready to come to Rowan’s lips. All of a sudden his throat was dry, and his knee bounced beneath the table.

“Please don’t tell me they clocked you,” Greyson groaned. Greyson - just Grey to Rowan - was the current Vice President of the Pet Liberation Front, North American Division. Greyson also happened to be Rowan’s best friend. They’d known each other since they onboarded at PLF together more than a decade ago, and although their paths had diverged, a common mission still united them. Grey had taken on pet liberation as his full-time job, and Rowan had stuck with the weekend volunteer gigs.

“No, nothing like that,” Rowan said hastily. “No cops, no drama, no one suspected a thing. I even got all the footage you asked for. But I uh… I saw a victim there. He was just different, okay? I can’t tell you what it was, not exactly, but there was something about him that I’ve never seen before. I looked at him and I just- I couldn’t say no, so I- I rescued him. Cash upfront for a lifetime contract, signed on the warehouse floor, delivered this morning. He’s in my spare bedroom right now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Grey muttered, and Rowan could picture his exasperated face from hundreds of miles away. The other man only continued after releasing a deep sigh. “You aren’t trained as a rescuer, you haven’t been assigned a rehabilitator, and there’s no way we can get him in for a medical work-up on such short notice. You're in way over your head with this.”

“I know, I know.” Rowan could concede that he fucked up, just a little, or maybe more than a little. But the boy was alive in that spare room rather than being burned to ash in the industrial cremator. That had to count for something, right?

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” Grey asked this over the sound of distant keystrokes, the frustration in his voice already dissipating. “You purchased him at a liquidation event, which means there's something they determined was defective, so this isn’t even a standard rescue case. Give me some details and I can try to connect you to a rehabilitator for emergency intervention. If you send me scans of the purchase papers - they should be in his box with the instruction manual - I can also open a rescue file in our system for him.”

Rowan let out a soft breath of relief. Grey had shifted into his rescue-oriented mindset, which meant that if he intended to continue scolding Rowan, it would at least come at a later time.

“I- I don’t know why he was sent for liquidation. He’s only been here for a few hours, and I’ve been too focused on not making a mess of things to figure it out. The WRU agent said that he had stopped listening to direct commands, but that’s all the information I got. He hasn’t reacted to a single thing I’ve said this whole time. Physically, he seems to be in decent shape. Walking, kneeling, any kind of movement, he had no problem. There’s the usual scarring and some fresh wounds around his cheeks, ears, and neck, but that’s it.” Rowan thought back to the deep wounds gouged into the boy's head, and again wondered what sort of torment would cause such persistent injuries. A shiver crept up his spine, but Grey cut in before Rowan's imagination could get the best of him.

“Hmm. Alright. It looks like our roster has one volunteer rehabilitator about five miles from your address, an Allison Herrera. She’s been with the PLF for four years now, and she’s assisted in more than ten successful rehabilitations with different rescuers in your area. I’ve sent her your contact information, and she doesn’t have any other cases at the moment, so you should expect to hear from her soon.”

“You are a miracle worker, Grey.” Unlike just a few minutes ago, Rowan was no longer in this alone. Help was on its way. Of course, as the rescuer, he knew he would have to do most of the work. The most a rehabilitator could offer him was guidance, advice, assessment. But by god, Rowan was going to take it.

Grey gave a soft, strained chuckle.

“No, you’re the miracle worker today. You gave that boy a second chance at life, and that’s worth more than all the money in the world. I wouldn’t ever recommend doing what you’ve just done, but I know you did it with a good heart and good intentions.”

“Yeah. I just… I couldn’t let him go. Not this one, not this time.”

Grey sighed again, and Rowan liked to imagine that he was smiling.

“Now get back there and try to settle your new houseguest in. Remember, it's firm suggestions, not commands, are the best to begin the transition process. Conversational tone, soft voices, lots of praise. Read through the PLF rescue manual, and then read it again. Allison will tell you more when you end up connecting.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best. Thank you, really. I promise I’ll try to call you at some point when I’m not in crisis mode.”

“Not holding my breath, bud. You just take care and keep me updated.” And with that, the line went dead, and Rowan was back on his own.

---

Pet almost let one tear fall down its face as it soaked in the newness of everything around it. Kneeling was hard after so many hours in the box, but that was okay. Pet had done things that were so much harder. These floors weren’t even cement, so it thought maybe it could even kneel all day without its knees bruising.

The food Master left was still just out of reach, and Pet's stomach was filled with the daggers of hunger, but Pet remembered Master’s words with gospel-like reverence. Don’t eat. So it didn’t. If this was Pet's first test in its new home, it would prove itself to Master, it would show just how obedient it could be.

Usually it was easy for Pet’s mind to grow empty, for it to submit to the nothingness, to surrender wholly to a place without pain. It wasn’t meant to think, it was trained not to. But today, Pet was struggling not to think. There was too much new. It was more frustrated than ever that it couldn't quite hear its new Master’s voice. It couldn’t tell if it was a scratchy voice, or if it was a soft one, or if it was a warm, deep roar. All Pet knew was that there were distant, muted words that floated beyond its grasp.

If Pet was going to be good, it had to learn fast. Even if it didn’t have the exact words, it had to learn what Master wanted, and what Master expected of it. The better Pet anticipated its Master's needs, the less it got punished. A reliable pet was a good pet.

Even when it got hard to hear its old Master’s commands, Pet knew him well. Pet knew what time breakfast was to be prepared, how Master liked his floors cleaned, and which tools to offer up for punishment when Master was angry. It was routine, predictable, and even if it couldn’t hear every exact command, it was comforting to Pet. Every day was the same. There were no guesses, no surprises. Days and pain all bled into one another as the silence grew. Every day was the same, every ache anticipated.

That was, until it was dropped back off at the facility for re-training. Discarded.

Not all of this new was bad. New Master smelled like no other Master that Pet had ever had - he smelled almost like bread fresh from the oven. The house had soft wooden floors, not cold tile, and the light came from soft, yellow bulbs. It was warm here, and the space was snug with narrow halls and close walls. It wasn’t particularly clean, at least not as clean as its old Master would have expected, but Pet didn’t mind.

And since it hadn’t heard its new Master yell, then Pet thought that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t suffer much more pain today. The idea of punishment made its heart flutter uncomfortably in its chest.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t flinch. Don’t think. Calm down. You belong to Master. Master can do with you as he pleases. You are Master’s property. Your only concern is to listen to Master, please Master, obey Master’s every command.

Before Pet could try to escape to blissful nothingness once more, Master’s feet appeared in the doorway. They sidestepped the plate - still untouched - and came closer to Pet. It braced its muscles as subtly as possible, preparing for the inevitable strike. There was another mumbling of words, just as indistinct as before.

Pet stopped breathing when a hand touched its chin, ever so gently, and titled its face upwards.

---

A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much for the outpouring of love I have received for this story. I must admit I abandoned it back in October as my life got busy, but I have a total of fifteen chapters currently written, with more on the way. So yes, this work is continuing!

Reading the kind tags and comments so many folks have left genuinely brought tears to my eyes. Your kindness has been overwhelming in the best possible way. Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

I think I got everyone who asked to be tagged for this, but please ask if you would like to be added! Please let me know if you have been added in error, and you will be promptly removed.

Taglist: @honey-is-mesi @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @tragedyinblue @clairelsonao3 @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @peachy-panic

#bbu #whump #pet whump #whump community #whumplr #whump writing #tw dehumanization #hear no evil #chapter 4

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thisismysecondrodeo · 1 year

Text

Twitter Famous (Jason Sudeikis x Reader) EXTRA

AN: Surprise! It's just smut y'all. Set around the beginning of Chatper 10

Content Warning: Mutual masturbation, casual marijuana use

wc: 1.8k

Story Page | Story Tag

You knew Jason smoked weed and it didn’t bother you at all—most of your friends smoked, after all. But you could count on one hand the number of times you’d actually seen him smoke and even then it was only when someone else offered it to him. As much as the two of you spent time in private, you were starting to wonder why you’d rarely seen the man high. It made sense when the kids were around that he abstained, but this weekend on a break from tour, sans-children, you decided to ask about it.

“Do you think I don’t like it when you smoke?”

Jason’s head was in your lap and you were carding your fingers through his hair as the two of you watched something mindless and colorful on TV. You didn’t mean for it to come out so accusatory, but Jason shuffled around to face you with a smile.

“You don’t smoke, so I was trying to be considerate. I’m a gentleman like that,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not like morally opposed! I do edibles on occasion, smoking just hurts my throat,” you pouted and he chuckled. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to switch up your whole lifestyle just ‘cause I’m here.”

“I can’t think of a better reason,” he responded, a charming little glint in his eye, “but I have edibles too…Y/N, do you want to get high with me?”

“Sure,” you said automatically, but you knew there was an anxious look on your face. “Just know I’m a lightweight…and I, uh, get freezing cold when I’m high.”

Jason gave you a curious look as he clambered off the couch and found his child-proof stash box on the highest bookshelf. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?”

You avoided making eye contact, unpredictably embarrassed. What you weren’t telling Jason was that weed made you incredibly horny and always had. At this point, you and Jason had slept together many times, and you weren’t afraid to talk about or initiate sex, but the experience of regularly getting high alone and masturbating is something you’d never talked about with anyone. But Jason wasn’t just anyone, and the thought of Jason being able to lend a hand with that situation….well it was certainly making you a little braver.

“This feels like weirdly vulnerable, but getting high makes me…really fucking horny,” you said as you took the offered edible and he was so surprised he nearly dropped it into the gap of the couch cushion instead.

“Were you worried I was going to think you were trying to seduce me,” he laughed, his eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with him. “Or that I’d ask you about all the high sex you’ve had?”

Jason took his own edible and returned to his place in your lap, looking up at you with open curiosity. You dropped a hand onto his chest, your thumb rubbing gently back and forth over his collarbone. He was wearing a t-shirt from your tour and it was already getting that lovely worn-in cottony feeling from how often he wore and washed it. “I haven’t actually had high sex,” you answered with a smile. “I get really high and I touch myself and it fucking rocks and somehow that felt like too vulnerable a thing to mention.”

You laughed which gave Jason permission to laugh, a high-pitched giggle that always made your heart swell with affection. You could already tell the weed was starting to take effect a little—things were funnier than they would have been sober. You hadn’t thought to ask about the dosage, but you knew Jason wouldn’t have given you something too strong. Jason brought the hand you were resting on his chest up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then the inside of your wrist; he might as well have kissed your clit with the way arousal coursed through you. “First of all, that does fucking rock. Second of all, we absolutely do not have to do anything but I hope you’ll let me know if you, ah, need any help with that.”

You smiled sweetly down at your boyfriend, “Actually there is something you can help me with…I wasn’t lying about getting cold.” Jason got up without complaint, dropping a chaste kiss on your lips while he went to retrieve a hoodie for you.

Hoodie on, the TV switched to standup, you and Jason giggled your hearts out with matching bloodshot eyes. Jason didn’t press the issue, not that you expected him to, but you were surprised that he didn’t notice every light touch and accidental brush was making you vibrate with barely contained lust. You untucked your legs, swinging them into Jason’s lap since he was now sitting up next to you. Without looking over he snaked his long fingers around your ankle, massaging gently, and you whimpered before you could catch yourself.

Jason looked over at you with a small smirk. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you responded slowly, sinking deeper into the couch and closing your eyes. You felt floaty and light and cozy in Jason’s Thundergong hoodie, but then you would register the touch of his hands on you again and a shock of heat would hit your core. It was a mix between an incredible amount of desire and being so comfy and safe you wanted to become the couch itself.

Jason leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and turned the television off so the only light came from a floor lamp in the corner. You opened your eyes and Jason was looking at you intently, the warm light emphasizing his jawline and making his eyes look like pools of honey.

“Will you show me what you do when you get high?” His voice was low and a little gruff and it made your clit throb. You knew exactly what he was asking and it sent a little thrill through you.

“You want to watch,” you asked, your tone flirty and he smiled. “Yeah, I do.”

Jason’s hand never stopped rubbing small circles on your ankle, no higher or lower, as the two of you talked and you could easily imagine those circles elsewhere. “Okay,” you nodded, and you wasted no time, wiggling your sweatpants down to your ankles. Jason helped tug them over your ankles and tossed them onto the arm of the couch. Your legs brushed his growing bulge as you got comfy and he sucked in a breath. You were pleased he was seemingly as affected as you were.

His eyes were on your hand as you slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear. “Fuck, I’m so wet,” you cursed at the first caress of your fingers, dipping just a little into your opening before dragging your finger back up to your clit.

“Yeah?” Jason asked breathlessly. One of his hands had migrated to your now bare knee, the other pressing against his erection.

“Oh, you can’t see can you?” You immediately shuffled your underwear down your legs, and again Jason slid them off and placed them on the arm of the couch. “Better?”

Jason looked over and groaned as you started circling your clit in earnest. You expected to be nervous knowing he was watching you, but each touch felt electric, and Jason’s close attention only ramped up the feeling. You touched yourself exactly the way you would if you were alone, and Jason seemed wrecked as he watched, grunting lightly when he noticed you growing wetter. Your fingers made a lewd sound when you slid two of them inside of you, and you moaned, wanting more but not wanting to break the moment, not wanting Jason to stop watching you.

His mouth was slightly agape, and his gaze focused. You nudged him with your knee, and he looked up at you with a smile, before whispering, “you’re gorgeous.”

“Touch yourself,” you sighed, a soft demand that Jason wasted no time meeting. He shifted and pulled his hard length free, his boxer briefs and sweats resting around his ankles. He pulled your legs back into his lap, with just enough room for him to stroke his cock as he massaged a hand along your calves. Your fingers found the right speed against your sensitive bundle of nerves again, alternating between circles and a flicking motion that had you cursing as you watched Jason’s first stroke of his cock. His head fell back against the couch with a groan, but his eyes stayed locked on your center. You inserted two fingers again, stroking against your inner wall for a few moments before you sat up. Jason’s hand stop moving as he watched you lean close to him.

“Is everything ok—”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, your tongues meeting, as you used the hand that was just inside you to stroke his cock, making Jason gasp into your mouth. “Keep going,” you said softly, before laying back down and watching him stroke himself in earnest, the movement now slicker.

“Can I help you,” Jason asked, clearly wanting to return the favor, and you nodded, taking his hand from your leg and sliding it under your shirt. He immediately understood and gently ran his thumb over one nipple and then the other, drawing soft whimpers from you, before tweaking them a little harder and making you cry out.

“Fuck, Jase, I’m gonna—” He was watching so closely you knew he could tell without you saying anything, but he encouraged you anyway.

“Please, baby, let go for me. I wanna see you.”

With a little more pressure from your fingertips and Jason pinching gently at your nipples, you came hard, reaching for Jason with your free hand and digging your nails into his forearm. Your eyes closed as you came, but you could hear Jason’s hand picking up speed, and you opened them just in time to watch him come into his fist with a guttural moan. His t-shirt caught most of it, but between the cum and your wet spot you knew the couch was done-zo. That was a concern for later though because right now you just wanted to be close. You swung your legs off of Jason, reaching for a tissue from the coffee table to clean off his lap. Jason was still breathing hard, his chest heaving, and he looked surprised at you cleaning him up, a small smile on his face. You straddled his lap and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sorry about the couch,” you said as you pulled away, and Jason laughed. “But that was very fun. I like watching you.”

“Problem for another time,” Jason said easily, his hands running up and down your thigh. “I like watching you more.” The two of you stared into each other’s eyes for a beat before you shivered, catching a chill because you were both naked from the waist down. “What do you say we quit Winnie the Pooh-ing it, and go upstairs to, ah,…watch each other some more?”

You grinned, nodding, “I’ll meet you up there if you UberEats us some Taco Bell.”

“Deal. Deal, deal, deal.”

#jstwitterfamous #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis writing #jason sudeikis fan #jason sudeikis fan fic #jason sudeikis reader insert #jason sudeikis x yn #ted lasso #ted lasso cast #jason sudeikis x reader #jason sudeikis x you #my fanfic #rpf #jason sudeikis rpf

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ladyveravincent · 10 days

Text

Birthday Wishes

Excerpt from Chatper 19

Elain, now completely winded and worried, had frantically searched for hours and hours with no end in sight. The fire in her lungs was thoroughly kindled as she ran up and down the cobblestone streets to look in every dark corner and alley, all her efforts grossly in vain.

Where was she?

In all her years on this Earth, Nesta had never missed Elain’s birthday.

The hurt of her sister’s absence sent her into a panic, remedied through dedicating the rest of the day to find a, nowadays notably absent, Nesta. In the Seer’s naive and foolish mind, she hoped her elder sister merely planned an elaborate surprise, or perhaps lay in wait for the party at the Townhouse to die down before she sought out Elain. She clung to that hope that it was merely Cassian’s presence that warded Nesta away, instead of her own.

But she knew that was a lie.

Nesta had become a stranger after the war with Hybern and spent more time in the bottle than out of it. Elain, who attended a very delightful party with most of her family in attendance, only wished for one thing when she blew out the candles on the cake Nuala and Cerridwen so beautifully decorated:

For this nightmare to end.

Though her visions now only visited her in dreams, she had lost her father, eldest sister, and fiance, now was forced to live amongst strangers in a strange body. Not to mention that ghastly feeling that made her ribs sore.

Much to her dismay, the redhead crossed the threshold moments before cake was served, to bestow a quick but pre-meditated visit filled with good wishes and a sheepish offer of a bouquet of goldenrods.

“I was delighted to find out you were born a few days before Autumn equinox. Where I’m from, we hold a large celebration on the day, filled with lots of dancing and bonfires," he delivered with a nervous grin. All busybodies watched as he extended the bouquet to a noticeably embarrassed Elain, who found solace by fiddling with the pearl on her iron engagement ring, and offered the fox a polite nod in thanks. What a wretch she was; she couldn’t even say anything.

If Nesta was there, a sharp tongue and some frigid words would’ve put a stop to that Fae mate nonsense. She barely had two bites of lemon cake before she was out the door, the early autumn air still warm.

The brilliant star-speckled sky of Night Court marked the end of another birthday, and the hope she clung to withered and died. Her relentless pace started to slow, and finally, her lungs caught some breath outside a small Tavern on the outskirts of the city. Between the sputters for air, the call of loud, lively music and the laughter of its patrons beckoned a curious Elain closer, desperate to remedy her disappointment.

She peered into an open window to discover hundreds of scantily clad Fae females and males wildly dancing, drinking, and flirting. With red cheeks, she watched couples kiss lips and shoulders (and perhaps in other places that were best experienced behind closed doors). What a strange place. Her human sensibilities left her prudish in Velaris, for she still wore modest gowns and went to bed at dusk. The warm light from the window cast an iridescent glow on the pearl ring, and she mindlessly twisted the iron band until her finger turned red.

Grayson. She had loved him, dearly, and upon the thought of her fiance, the painful memory of the previous birthday surfaced. He had taken her to a large flower market in a neighboring village, and the lovers spent the day laughing between the orchids and dahlias, honey cakes in hand while they watched the birds soar above. Gods, if only she knew that was her last birthday as a human. Now, the years of immortality that stretched before her threatened utter oblivion. Was this the beginning of the end? To spend the rest of her life running from her mate, her family, herself? She’d rather be dead.

Elain was always well-liked but kept few friends. It was Nesta that she often spent time with, and upon that fact, a pang of guilt seared throughout her gut. Feyre and she always had a sweet and amicable relationship, but not a deep one. The past months gave the two the opportunity to grow closer, but Feyre interpreted Elain’s quiet nature as a fault. She wondered why her sister thought her demure demeanor was something that needed to be remedied rather than respected. But, she didn’t dare tell Feyre what thoughts swirled in her mind, especially what words sat in the books under her bed. All she knew, was that this unfortunate experience would, hopefully, be a very temporary roadblock to a happier life with Grayson.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a couple engaged in a rather passionate kiss moved aside to reveal the back of a slender, blonde Fae seated at the bar.

Nesta, Elain hoped. Crowds still bothered her, greatly. But, spending her birthday without her sister was worse. Without a second thought, she left the window to open the door, and the smell of liquor and sweat hit her face like a wall.

“Pardon me!” Elain tried her best to keep her gaze glued to the floor, but she failed. Twice.

“If you fuck me good, then I promise to call you whatever you want.”

Nope. Now, three times.

Cauldron on Ramiel! Was this who Nesta traded her family’s company for?

“Found you!” she cried and playfully tagged the shoulder of the blonde Fae female. A face that did not belong to her beloved older sister turned and looked at Elain in confusion.

“Oh, I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought- I…” Tears welled up in Elain’s eyes as she slowly started to back away from the blonde. She needed to leave, go home, and accept that Nesta did not want to be found. But before she could head towards the door, the tendrils of shadows beckoned from the corner of the room.

“There he is! Gods, he’s just as handsome as you described.”

“I know, look at those muscles! Makes you wonder what those wings can do.”

"My friend said he's quite the lover, but he stopped talking to her almost six months ago."

Three pretty Fae females whispered in glee while they admired something in the corner, which prompted Elain to push her way through the crowd of giggling females to get a better look.

Oh. Someone else who had been absent from her party.

Azriel sat on a wooden booth in the corner of the room with a sultry redheaded female in his lap, a well-endowed blonde leaning over his shoulder, and an underdressed brunette between his legs on the floor. The redhead twirled his silky raven hair in between her fingers, and the blonde let her lips brush up against the side of his ear to whisper something that caused a slight, sly smile to grace his lips.

Oh yes, he was handsome. Very handsome. But also very different in this smoky tavern than the Azriel she thought she knew.

Nesta was not the only one avoiding her after the war. The Shadowsinger, the gallant hero who had rescued her from Hybern’s camp, and gave her the dagger that brought a King to his knees, made himself scarce. Her skin crawled with embarrassment when she remembered that kiss placed on his cheek when he rescued her after she was, very foolishly, captured by the Cauldron. They exchanged polite conversations when she was a human, and in the hazy fog of her memory, recalled that he visited her every day to make her a cup of tea. And even as she gave him Truth-Teller after Hybern’s corpse fed the crows, his fingers lingered on her wrist for a slight moment. The gaze from his hazel eyes was so piercing and pretty, that Elain wondered if he saw through her poorly concealed affections and sensed she slightly fancied him. But, like a coward, she merely walked away once the dagger was safely placed into scarred hands.

When they returned to Velaris, she couldn’t put her finger on what she had done to make him so avoidant. Over the petals of summer blooms, she not so subtly stole glances at the Shadowsinger, who often liked to sun his impressive wings and biceps while his handsome face was buried in stacks of reports. He never once approached her, and whenever she started to walk toward his direction or pitifully wave hello like the wretch she was, he would clear his throat, and then scurry away. Her presence must have annoyed him, for halfway through the summer, he traded the veranda for the library to read his reports inside, so enraptured in his work he never once looked outside the windowsill where he sat.

She wondered why the male who had treated her so kindly now seemed to forget about her existence.

Well, the truth was as plain as day. She was not the kind of female that could hold his attention. He was the pinnacle of pure male prowess and energy. Silent, cocky, brooding, with a whiskey in his hand, those ethereal shadows, not to mention the large harem around him, Elain realized what a fool she was to think he even would look at her in that way.

She was too prim and naive, and probably bored him to tears with talks of pastries and flowers. If Cassian was tasked with watching Nesta, then Az must have drawn the short stick and got stuck with boring Elain. Oh dear, she was ashamed! How she wished she was more alluring, or at least not as painfully shy and bland.

Mother always said she was pretty but warned not to eat so many honey-flavored sweets or else she’d get round, and not to talk too much for she was dull and dimwitted. Unfortunately, Elain’s hips and ass reflected her sweet tooth, and her tongue remained mostly mute in the presence of males. She was not as endowed as Nesta or Feyre, or lucky enough to possess their stunning grey eyes and sharp tongues. She was so terribly plain and modest compared to the voluptuous female Faes that held Azriel’s seductive gaze.

Besides, her heart belonged to Grayson, whose jovial boyish spirit was a far better match for her than a strapping, powerful, and quite popular warrior.

Not to mention, and it intrigued her a little too greatly, his profession as an executioner. Her father was a merchant and despite the inconsistent revenue, considered quite respectable. Though she dearly loved and mourned Father, the fact remained that he was not of strong ilk. But an executioner? What sort of stuff must he be made of to be trusted to torture? He most likely scoffed at females such as she, those who floated in frilly dresses and sat in silence at mealtime, and burned for those who understood how to toe the line between danger and pleasure.

She recalled with tremendous guilt that she once thought whoever Azriel’s wife was would be a very lucky creature, and after she learned he was not married, let herself daydream about what sort of male he was behind closed doors. Now, she knew. Such a cunning male certainly would not be impressed with her or her silly pastoral pastimes.

Before she got the courage to drag herself away from the scene, a flash of red and a thud on the floor followed by a chorus:

“Oomfp! Hey! Ouch!”

And then

“Elain?” Her face was almost the color of the female’s hair that was in Azriel’s lap, now trying to stand up after being tossed onto the floor.

“AA-aahh!! HA! Ha? Ha! I guess you found me.” Oh, great giant fiddlesticks. Real subtle, Elain. Tell him you were spying or worse, ogling.

With a guilty look, her head raised to meet the handsome Shadowsinger, and suddenly recalled how tall he stood as his muscular build towered over her shaky frame.

“What are you doing here?” As usual, his face was unreadable, but his jaw slightly ticked, and a slight tremor ghosted his fingers as they slid into his pockets.

“Oh, um- I was looking for Nesta.” He merely nodded, as a sad understanding passed between them. In those closed meetings she sometimes eavesdropped on, she overheard his reports about Nesta’s whereabouts and scandalous activities.

“Sorry, I uh, I haven’t seen her.” Before Elain allowed herself to get lost in his hazel irises, the giggles of females pulled her out of her trance.

“This is a lovely place. Do you come here often?” Elain asked quickly, shocked by her forwardness and then embarrassed at how stupid her statement sounded. She knew very well why he was here. He smirked and suppressed a small laugh, his silky low voice so resonant and warm, slightly gruff from whiskey.

“Lovely? Hmm, I’d say that’s too generous. I come here sometimes, not often.” Her gaze rested on those breathtaking wings, and he stretched them wider.

The harem squealed.

Hello? Elain?! You sap, go! As usual, she had made a fool of herself, and it was time to get out of the way between Azriel and his midnight delights. Two females waved at Azriel, who followed Elain’s gaze to look in their direction.

“Oh, well, have a good evening, I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your… friends.” She turned quickly, ready to make a dash for the door in a futile attempt to save her dignity.

“Wait!”

The light brush of his scarred hand grabbed her wrist, and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped at his soft, searing touch. His cheeks were almost as pink as her dress, and when on Earth did the music stop?

“Happy birthday,” he said gently.

“Oh, thanks.” And then she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry! I- I just,” she blubbered as he gingerly guided her to the door.

"Cauldron alive, is that your friend he stopped talking to?" murmured a Fae female.

A sea of Fae parted for the wailing female, and the laughs and scoffs from various voices grew quiet when her lungs drank in the cool night air.

“Oh Gods, I- oh, dear. No, no, I’m fine, I’m fi- waaaaahh- ne!”

In her sorrow, she did not notice that the scent of cedar and mist hailed from Azriel’s hug.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmured over and over, stroking her hair.

“I miss them!” she wailed.

“I know, I know.”

“I miss Nesta, and Father, and Gray-” she looked up, the terrible realization that she was in the very handsome Fae male’s arms who rescued her from the danger of her stupidity for crying about that same man.

“I’m sorry- I…” she pushed herself out of his grasp and quickly wiped her cheeks. He looked slightly stunned and hurt, but blinked it away and merely bowed his head.

“Don’t apologize- It’s I who should…” he cleared his throat. Oh Mother above, how pathetic she was to cry in the middle of a tavern, and be ushered out like a child.

“Um, may I walk you home?” Oh. How odd . A gentleman at heart, he was probably just being polite.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother. I already made a fool of myself in there. Oh, your friend! She’s probably waiting for you.” He suppressed a small smile.

“I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“If you’re sure? I wouldn’t mind.”

~~~

The first few moments of the walk were spent in peace, but it was not intentional. A panicked Azriel was mortified that of all the creatures in the Bog, Elain would be the one to discover not one but three females in his lap. What a rakish, bastardous cad he must seem in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I missed your party.”

Great, Az. Now you’re just an ass, too.

“Oh, no it's ok! I didn’t expect you to be there.”

Of course, she wouldn’t. She had a mate for Cauldron’s sake. Which led him to wonder…

“Did you at least have a good time with, um, everyone?” She scoffed.

“Oh yes,” she said curtly. He tried to contain his glee.

In an attempt to preserve his dignity, Azriel kept his distance from her once they returned to Velaris after the war. He ignored the pull toward her upon their first meeting, for she was an otherwise engaged and very mortal woman. Then, as a newly Made-Fae, he kept her company out of concern the lovely gardener who treated him with such kindness seemed to suffer alone through a silent and deadly fight. But, when he carried her over the threshold of the Townhouse, something shifted, and as they sat in the garden the day she called him beautiful, he suddenly grew self-conscious of his incredibly primitive looks and manners in the presence of a true Lady. When the war happened, he put aside pleasantries to protect her, but being back in Velaris reinstated that barrier.

His summer routine was quite rigorous; up before dawn to train rigidly for at least three hours in the ring, bathe, try to smooth his uncooperative hair, and then work up the courage to sit in the Townhouse garden. Each day he tried and miserably failed to calm his nerves while he soaked up the sunlight and stole glances at the Seer, who once or twice politely waved, but in his panic, pretended not to notice. Were his wings wide enough? He hoped they weren’t too small or droopy, a silly insecurity of his from boyhood. Would she even care about such things? Besides, she’d never consider him in that way. And usually, his cowardice got the better of him, for each time Elain trod up the garden path, he would bolt.

He read about squabbles on the continent, that Eris Vanserra often traveled to Day Court, and that Elain sunbathed after she sowed camellia seeds. One or two times during meetings with Rhys, he almost revealed too much of what he learned from those reports he studied so religiously each day.

“Any news from Spring?” Rhys asked on a particularly balmy day.

“Yes, the pe-” noies are almost at full bloom, and after the ivy leaves are pruned, there’ll be room for some tulips.

“Uh, ahem, people from Spring seem to still be leaving for either the continent or seeking asylum in Autumn.”

Two weeks into his summer routine, he caught a glance at himself in the kitchen window and crumbled in humiliation. His smoky shadows and black linens looked ridiculous against the sunshine. His gaze shifted to the reflection of sweet Elain, clad in a lavender dress with daisies in her hair, and the shame of his affections and dumb tongue made him leave the garden for good. But like the brute he was, he couldn’t stay away, so he worked in the library next to a large window that overlooked the garden.

From the iron and pearl ring on her finger to the mating bond with Vanserra, Azriel knew the female he so desperately pined for missed her family and fiance and needed her space. But, his mind often wandered to Truth-Teller triumphantly held within her grasp. Did she suspect his feelings for her?

She was probably relieved to not have his annoying and brooding presence souring her days outside. As the summer faded, long missions took him away from Velaris, and that fall he found himself unsure whether or not to celebrate her birthday.

When he heard Lucien was to attend the party, he pocketed the small gift he had bought her and decided to drown such sorrows in liquor. The females that climbed into his lap were old friends, and in a drunken haze, a poor but necessary decision was made. He needed some sort of distraction, for he had no desire to sit around in rooms for centuries to come where Elain’s lovely honey scent was ruined by Lucien’s musky oud and tobacco. Autumn Court males, and their suffocating scents, he and his shadows thought in disdain.

Despite his mother’s encouragement, he knew it was utterly hopeless to fall for a mated female. And besides, she desperately missed her fiance. Though he did not understand what about Grayson captured Elain’s heart, to watch her so loyally hold on to the hope that he would come around shattered Azriel’s blackened one. Poor, poor sweet lovely creature. She was meant to be a Lady, and here she was, in a new body in a strange land. But her undying love for such an immature and stupid man? What did Grayson do to deserve such a prize?

He was in awe at her steadfast devotion. Such a pure, tender heart she carried. Each time he watched her carefully water sunflowers, he heard the screams of those he scalded, their flesh almost as red as the berries she baked into pies. The crimes he committed, the evils that lived in Hewn City and his mind were so shameful, that she should know what lay in his heart, he hoped for her salvation she would reject his affections. Tonight was a good example of what a roguish brute he was deep inside, entertaining three females to forget about one. Gods, his head ached.

What was worse was that he had lied to her that evening. A few moments after the redhead (her name, lost) started to murmur sweet nothings into his ear, he saw Nesta Archeron at the bar in another male’s arms. The two exchanged cold glares, each raising a glass to the pain of holding someone else in their hearts. He rubbed his temples, and the stress of everything gave him a terrible headache.

“When’s your birthday?” Elain’s melodic voice interrupted his guilty thoughts.

“Oh, it's around Samhain.” She giggled.

“Makes sense.” He chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“Because of your personality.” His cheeks warmed.

“And what’s that?” he asked letting his stupid curiosity get the better of him, and she held out her hand to allow a playful shadow to swirl around her fingers.

“Dark and powerful.” He heard absolutely nothing but the blood rush to his ears. He puffed out his wings as wide as they could go, let his siphons blaze, and cleared his throat.

Azriel, you fucker. Az. No! Do. Not…

His shadows swarmed around Elain, and the night around them disappeared. Her beautiful eyes widened as they stepped into the dark and smoky void where his shadows dwelled, and the whispers surrounding them echoed off of the darkness.

“Oh, powerful then?” he teased, a hard edge in his deep tone. He was thankful the alcohol helped him find some confidence. What a poor female she was to be the object of his affection.

Her face went from shock to joy and she merely laughed and played with the swarms of his shadows. She seemed too enthralled to care she had made such a bold statement.

“You trying to get me to say it twice?” Her voice echoed, and the shadows whispered her words over and over.

Dark and Powerful

Trying, trying, trying

Say it twice

Ah, there it she was, that clever, clever girl.

“No, I just didn’t hear you the first time,” he permitted himself to indulge in her honey and jasmine scent a little longer than usual. She raised her chin to give him a sultry glance.

“Hmm, maybe your friend down at the tavern can repeat it for me.” Oh, what a perfect creature she was, for if he ever got his hands on her, he would devour those beautiful lips and that clever, witty tongue.

“Which one?” he asked with a cocky grin. She merely tipped her head back and laughed, the shadows swirled around her to catch and amplify its music until its bell-like tone rang out everywhere.

“Hmm, depends on your preference. Blondes, brunettes, or redheads,” she said cooly, but playfully.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” he said in a husky tone, but the flirt was received with an eye roll and the tip of a perfectly pink tongue. There it was, that ease they seemed to find after the initial shock of each other's presence.

“Oh please, I bet it's first come, first serve.” Azriel knew he was fucked, and he loved it.

"What is this place?” she asked, while her outstretched hand encouraged the shadows to fall into her palm.

“It’s where my shadows dwell.” Subtly, the hand behind his back commanded the shadows to transform into birds that flew around the void, and her musical giggle rang out as they flew through her curls.

“Hello!” Elain cried and tipped her head back to hear the echo reverberate.

Thousands of hellos came back to greet her, each in various tones, some her own and some higher.

Elain! Elain! Elain!

His shadows sang over and over, happy she heard them.

“Oh, there they are again” she sighed, and suddenly, Azriel felt very hot. He had not realized she heard his shadows before. When could that have happened? His shadows often sought her out, and sang her name into his ears, sometimes to bring him the hum of her voice in the kitchen or her breathlessly reciting a garden itinerary for the day.

Could he be selfish and let her know how much his shadows looked for her? Maybe, even tell her how lovely she always looked, but especially now?

The pearl ring on her hand stopped those hopeful thoughts, and within seconds the shadows and whispers disappeared. Her eyes slightly dulled when she realized they were back at the Townhouse, and then a polite smile graced her lips.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. He nodded, and she turned to head up the path.

“Elain!” he cried, more desperate than he anticipated. As she turned around, he extended a small wrapped box to her, and her hand raised to cover her slightly parted lips.

She opened the gift to find a small bag of jasmine flower seeds, and as she examined them, she gifted him a wide wondrous smile.

“Happy birthday,” he said. She breathed out, her enchanting gaze examining his face.

“Happy early birthday to you, then.” What was she thinking behind those beautiful brown eyes?

He decided the only way to find out was to no longer stay away.

~ A Court of Bones in Bloom A03

IF YOU EVEN READ THIS FAR! Wow, hi, thank you. Secondly, what signs do you think the ACTOAR characters are (besides our Sag/Cap queen Feyre)?

#a03 fanfic #elain #elain x azriel #elriel #fanfic #azriel #azriel and elain #acotar #azriel x elain

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 7 months

Text

Begin Again: Chapter Five | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Chatper Five: Ninety-Nine Percent

<< Chapter Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC!Charlotte Morris

Warnings: Implied sexual intercours, making out, a little bit of angst

Author's note: two posts in one day, who am I? This also concludes this mini-series. Thank you for reading! :)

Words: 2.3K

Spencer and Charlotte didn’t even realize they had been left alone by their friends/coworkers. Both of them were too engrossed with one another to notice anything or anyone else. Hands were roaming one another’s bodies, tongues were twirling in heated dances around one another.

“You, uhm,” Spencer started, then kissed her again chastly. “You wanna take this–” Another kiss. “Elsewhere?” he asked, then allowed her to kiss him again, deep and long.

Charlotte broke away from him for a second to nod her head before diving back into the kiss.

“We should probably–” Kiss. “Go–” Kiss. “Then–” Kiss.

After five more sweet pecks and one long, deep kiss, the two of them get out of the pool and dry off, tugging on a bathrobe before heading up to Spencer’s room. There, the bathrobes were quickly shrugged off and the wet underwear went flying about the room just as fast.

They were all wet skin against wet skin, fingers grazing and tugging at hair, kisses shared. Everything Spencer had ever dreamed of ever since he had been old enough to understand what love-making was.

“This was…” Charlotte sighed, resting her head on his bare chest. “Something.”

Chuckling, Spencer pressed her closer against his chest and kissed her head. “That was something.”

With a grin plastered on her face, she turned her head, chin propped up on his chest. “I liked it though,” she beamed.

“Me too.” Spencer leaned forward, meeting Charlotte in the middle for a proper kiss.

The two of them fell asleep together with limbs tangled, Charlotte’s head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her. And that was the way they woke up the next morning, too. It was nice to wake up next to someone that made her feel so calm.

“Morning,” she greeted and kissed his jaw before disentangling herself from him and trying to find any clothes.

His eyes were focused on her as she moved about the room. “Good morning.”

“I don’t have any clothes here, fuck–” she muttered to herself before her eyes landed on Spencer, who was looking at her. “I’m gonna–” She grabbed one of the bathrobes and shrugged it on. Before turning to the door, Charlotte bent down and kissed his lips quickly.

She quickly went downstairs to the spa where they had left their clothes last night. Glancing over at the corner where she and Spencer had spent the night, making out, Charlotte smiled. Though everything had started out with a string of murders, their story was starting to become increasingly more beautiful.

The thirty-something made her way back to Spencer’s room where she found him fast asleep again. A soft smile crept onto her face as she put his clothes on the chair. She turned towards him and watched him for a second. Like this, he looked like that twelve-year-old she met seventeen years ago.

She shook her head, trying to lose the thought. Thinking about Spencer as a twelve-year-old now would be kinda weird.

Instead, she pushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, revealing his beautiful hazel eyes. “Hi,” he muttered and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “I must’ve fallen asleep again.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Charlotte smiled, then a shriek followed when Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her on top of him. “Spencer!”

He held her against his chest and sighed contently. “Your hair smells like chlorine,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

“I wonder how that’s possible,” Charlotte chuckled, then breathed in deep through her nose. The scent of bacon and eggs filling her nostrils. “You smell that?” she asked, her face lighting up at the idea of breakfast. “That’s a Tommy breakfast for ya.”

“If it’s as good as last night’s dinner, sign me up,” Spencer said, grinning and kissing the top of her head.

“Oh, I promise you, Tommy’s breakfast is even better than his dinner,” she promised before pecking his lips and wriggling herself free from his grasp. “Let’s go, Doctor.”

She dropped the bathrobe and put her dress back on, no underwear underneath, ignoring how the man on the bed was staring at her with the same look in his eyes as he did last night. Once her dress was tied up again, she leaned down and pecked his lips.

“Close your mouth, genius. You’ll catch a fly,” she muttered, repeating the same words from last night. As he put his clothes back on, Charlotte started stripping the bed to help out housekeeping later. Once both of them were ready, they headed downstairs to the breakfast room where they found Spencer’s coworkers already munching down on Tommy’s breakfast.

“Damn, Reid,” Morgan smirked. “You dawg!”

A chorus of chuckles echoed through the restaurant as Spencer and Charlotte slid their chairs underneath the table. Spencer’s cheeks flushed a bright red while Charlotte couldn’t help but smirk, too.

“Did you have a good night, guys?” she asked, putting her general manager hat back on.

She leaned across, pressing her chest against Spencer’s upper arm as she reached for the croissants. The action caused Spencer’s cheeks to flush even redder.

“Pretty great, actually. The beds here are heaven!” Penelope exclaimed excitedly and everyone quickly agreed, making Charlotte’s heart happy. She loved it when people were happy after staying at her hotel. The exact reason why she was doing it anyway.

“I bet Spencer had an even better night’s sleep,” Valencia teased, earning a glare from her best friend.

After the laughter died down and Spencer’s cheeks went back to its normal color, the group fell into pleasant conversation. The BAU team wanted to know everything about Hartford while Charlotte and her friends asked them about the cases they had worked on. It was one of the nicest breakfasts Charlotte had ever had and she never wanted to be elsewhere.

The rest of them had wrapped up their breakfast pretty quickly while Charlotte and Spencer stuck around. They were wrapped in conversation, both of them so comfortable that she set a foot on the edge of his chair, his arm wrapped around her thigh and shin, his thumb caressing her skin all while her fingers toyed with his curls.

“I-I’d love to do this again,” Spencer told her shyly. “You know, take you out on a proper date.”

Charlotte’s movements stilled as she retracted her hand from his hair. “Spencer,” she sighed. “I like you, I do. It’s just–”

“We don’t really have a job that allows any form of romantic life,” Spencer finished her sentence and she nodded in agreement. “It’s fine. I get it.”

Her fingers moved back to his curls, a pout pulling at her bottom lip. “I want to, Spence, I really do. I had so much fun last night and getting to know you again.” Her thumb smoothed out the furrow between his brow.

“I had fun too,” Spencer smiled and grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. “And you know, the chances of us bumping into one another again in our lifetime is actually pretty high.”

“How high?”

“Like, ninety nine percent chance.”

Charlotte smiled. “What about the one percent?”

Shrugging, Spencer leaned in closer, mere inches away from her lips. “Some leeway for us in case we lose our way back to each other.” He pressed his lips to hers, which she gladly accepted by deepening the kiss immediately.

“Spence,” JJ’s voice interrupted their moment. When the two of them looked up, they saw the rest of the team passing by the breakfast room with their luggage, ready to leave. “We’re leaving. Are you coming?”

Spencer hummed and nodded his head. He glanced over at Charlotte and took her in as if it was the last time he would see her. From her blonde hair to her green eyes to the soft smile playing on her lips.

He then got up from his chair and exited the breakfast room, leaving her to her devices. Charlotte started on cleaning up the breakfast, quickly getting help from Val, Nisha and Thomas. Halfway through cleaning up, Spencer knocked on the doorframe, capturing the gang’s attention.

“We’re leaving,” he told her.

Charlotte dropped the dirty napkins and bounded towards the hallway, her friends in tow. The BAU team was gathered in the hallway, ready to go back to Washington DC. It was sad to see them go. She actually liked having them around in an empty hotel.

“So, you guys are off to DC again?” she asked. That bittersweet feeling washed over her.

“Thank you for hosting us, Charlotte,” Hotch reached out his hand for her to shake, which she did, gladly. “Come visit us in DC sometime.”

“I will, thanks, Agent Hotchner.”

One by one, the members of the BAU took Charlotte into a hug or kissed her cheeks to say goodbye. All but one. Spencer stood back and waited until every single one of his coworkers had said goodbye to Charlotte and her friends.

“So…” he started, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“So…” she repeated, stepping closer towards him. “Ninety nine percent, right?”

Spencer nodded his head. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to kiss her so badly, but knowing that if he did, he would want to kiss her forever. So, instead, he planted a kiss on her forehead and squeezed her hand.

“I’ll see you later… Lottie,” he hesitated with the nickname, but it rolled over his lips so easily and it sounded lovely, too.

A smile fell on her lips, which she tried to bite away by taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She softly nodded her head and watched as Spencer made his way to the door.

“Hey,” she called, making him turn around again with a quizzical look on his face. “The last bus leaves in five minutes.”

A wide smile befell Spencer’s lips before he turned on his heel and joined his coworkers by the SUVs. Charlotte couldn’t help but stare at the space he just vacated. Her chest felt heavy and her stomach churned while also filling with butterflies.

“Lottie Lot’s in love with a genius,” Thomas singsonged while his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s shoulders.

Charlotte pushed him off her, though she couldn’t keep her smile off her face. Though she didn’t like to admit it, Thomas wasn’t entirely wrong. She had a soft spot for Spencer and she knew she would like to kiss him every single moment of every single day and hold his hand in hers, feeling safe and protected from all things wrong.

For weeks, she thought of him.

When she woke up, Spencer was on her mind. When she went to sleep, he was on her mind. She could not stop thinking about the man she had met seventeen years ago and kissed mere weeks ago. All she wanted to do for weeks was go to him and kiss him.

“You should go to DC,” Nisha told her when she was helping around during breakfast.

Charlotte’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You keep thinking about him, so you should go to him.”

Scoffing, Charlotte turned on her heel, trying to shake Yanisha off but she was quick on her feet. “No, I do not. I am busy and he is busy. It would be a terrible idea to go visit him because then I don’t think I would return.”

“So you admit it,” she pointed out.

“Admit what?”

Yanisha sighed and grabbed Charlotte’s hand, stopping her from walking away from her. “That you have not been able to stop thinking about him and that you want to kiss him and hug him and repeat the events from that night in room 122.” It all came out in one breath.

“You’re right,” Charlotte said with a pained expression.

Her lips curled up into a smirk. “I know.” Charlotte hesitated, thinking it over. “Go. I’ll help Val around here. We can manage without you for a little while.”

It wasn’t something she could just decide on a whim. She thought about it for a couple more days, made sure everything was set in the hotel for her absence for a couple of days, and then took the first flight to Washington DC.

Equipped with coffee for the entire team, Charlotte made her way to Quantico. After having gone through security and securing her visitor’s badge, she went up to the sixth floor with a nervous flutter in her heart.

As the elevator doors opened and she walked into the bullpen, she was greeted by Emily, Rossi and JJ. All three of them were happy to see her and even more so when she offered them the coffee. Their excitement quickly lured Morgan and Penelope, and even Hotch had to come take a peek to see what was going on.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Morgan called when Spencer walked into the bullpen. The young genius didn’t even notice the visitor as she was shielded by his coworkers. “Want some coffee?” He offered the last cup Charlotte had brought.

“Yours has five packets of sugar,” Charlotte added, stepping back to look at him and catching his reaction to his surprise. “Hi Spence.”

“Charlotte–” he chuckled, unsure of what to think or what to say.

“I-I’m sorry to just waltz in like this. I should’ve called, but I just–”

The rest of the team dispersed, leaving the Las Vegas kids alone. Spencer’s eyes were glued on her, feeling like he was dreaming. The girl of his dreams was actually standing in front of him with that beautiful smile and those sparkling green eyes.

Before his brilliant brain could string words together, it decided to act instead of speak. He swiftly swooped her up into his arms and kissed her on the lips, something he had been thinking about since returning from Hartford.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I just– I had to see you,” she told him between kisses.

Spencer smiled. “Ninety-nine percent.”

“I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn, and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again” – Taylor Swift

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist:

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess @sylvcaplath @tillypettitt @mordechaisworld @ssameadows @spikedhe4rt @spencers-bookworm @littlemissaddict @kirbybean

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!oc #spencer reid x oc!charlotte morris

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slutforstabbings-archive · 11 months

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Clean Again

Chatper 9: SOMETHING FUCKED UP read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras! (see a mini-playlist for this chapter on tumblr here)

A fun night in ends up kinda heavy.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - stalking, passing ref to hard drugs, marijuana consumption, arson, assault (non-sexual), passing mentions of sex/arousal

5,152 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the tag list 💕

Thank fuck it’s Thursday.

You and Corey have gone three days or more apart since you started seeing each other. It’s not the length of time so much as it being intentional. It was easier to spend any number of days apart when any second you might text him or call him to ask him to come over. Knowing that text wasn’t coming made Corey fidgety. Last week he was beside himself, riding his bike for hours, on routes that just happened to pass by all the places you regularly go. I was just in the neighborhood. His route always ended at the library, loitering until they closed, checking out old cowboy movies he watched when he was little. He hoped they could distract him, keep him company when he was awake for 37 hours straight.

This week, to keep himself from sitting outside your apartment just hoping to get a glimpse of you, he called the elderly couple to see if they needed any help. Monday evening after work he rode his bike to the edge of town, following the familiar path as the paved roads gave way to dirt, scattering dogs and chickens as he roared into the yard. In the amber light of late afternoon, he deposited seeds in rows in their vegetable patch, tomatoes and sweet corn and summer squash. Tuesday evening Phil led Corey across several acres, deep into the center of the property, where he’d had to abandon his riding mower after it gave up on him that morning. As a man of a certain age and economic station, Phil knows a thing or two about a thing or two, and he ran Corey through the list of of valves and fluids he already checked before leaving him in the field to figure it out. Corey found the problem but didn’t have the part to fix it, so Wednesday evening on the way out to the farm he stopped to pick it up. Part in hand, the repair was a cinch, and he spent the rest of the evening on the porch with old lady Joanna, smoking cigarettes and listening to stories about her life.

But he finally gets to see you today. He makes record time from the garage to his apartment, then to yours. He bangs on the door with one hand, holding gifts for you in the other, a fresh bouquet and 18 eggs from Phil and Joanna’s chickens.

“Eggs?” You ask when he hands them to you.

“Fresh eggs. Free range. Laid just in the last couple days. I uh.. I know the chickens that laid them.”

You giggle at the expression. “You know the chickens? Are they close personal friends of yours?”

“No,” he says, laughing too. “I just help out on the farm where they live sometimes.”

“Well, thank you. That's really cool. I can’t wait to eat these. Send my regards to the girls,” you joke, placing them in the fridge.

The task he’s assigned himself tonight is oiling all the hinges and tightening all the knobs on your cabinet doors. Something you could easily do yourself, but he’s come to the point where he's scraping for projects, and he's more than happy to take care of it for you. He gets started while you fill an old peanut butter container with water for your flowers. They spill lazily over the wide mouth of the jar as you place it in the center of your kitchen island, a posture you mimic as you lean against the edge and watch him work.

“You do have a vase,” Corey says when he gets to the cabinet under the sink. He sets down his screwdriver and pulls something out. A glittery object that caught his eye deep in the shadows.

“I do?” You ask, confused.

He holds up a glass vessel, 10 inches tall, with a big belly bottom that tapers into a narrow tube towards the top.

“Corey!” You snort. He can tell you think he’s joking, but he doesn’t understand why. He looks at you blankly, trying to get it, and watches your face change as the realization dawns on you. “Oh! You really don’t know?”

“It’s not a vase?” He asks, turning it around in his hands. “It is weird that it has a hole in it, I guess.” He puts the tip of his pinky in the opening in the vessel’s belly.

“It’s a bong, Corey. A water pipe. For smoking. It’s just missing a couple pieces.”

“Don’t you only smoke cigarettes sometimes at bars?” Corey asks, still not fully grasping the concept.

“I don’t smoke tobacco out of it,” you say slowly.

“Oh…” he breathes, eyes widening in recognition. Corey had some inkling that there were different kinds of pipes people use for smoking weed, but he’d never seen one before now. At the parties he snuck out to in high school everyone had just smoked joints.

He’s always been curious, but when Momma was still alive he had been too worried about how she would react if she found out, her bloodhound nose easily defeating paltry pieces of gum and spritzes of cologne. Since he’s been on the run it hasn’t seemed like a good idea to seek out drugs. He's thought about it often, especially on cold nights with a stiff neck, sleeping on the floor of an abandoned house and wishing he hadn’t survived. He thought about things far more destructive than marijuana. But he’d never bought drugs before and an interaction with an undercover cop seemed like way too big of a risk.

“Do you smoke a lot?” He asks

“Not so much lately.” You shrug. “I think I still have some though.”

“Could we…? Do you have the missing pieces?”

“Yeah, if you’re sure you want to,” you say, face shifting from surprised to amused. Corey nods. “Okay. That needs to be washed because it’s been under the sink for a while.”

He turns to the sink and runs the water while you go into your bedroom. He hears you opening drawers and clinking glass objects while he washes the bong, using a sponge on the outside and a bottle brush on the inside, unsure of how thorough he should be.

“Put like, two inches of cool water in the bottom and meet me in here,” you instruct, standing in the archway with your hands full.

In the living room you’re lighting candles. On the coffee table he sees an ashtray, a little canister full of weed, two glass objects he assumes are the missing pieces, and another container.

“I didn’t realize it was so involved,” he says.

“It’s what you make it. I want you to have a good first time,” you say.

You move to your sound system. You start to put a record on the turntable but change your mind, pulling something up on your phone instead. Gentle indie music fills the room. Corey sets the bong on the coffee table and sits down on the couch while you draw the curtains and turn on a lamp. He’s excited and a little nervous.

He likes drinking well enough. His only experience being out at a bar is the Halloween party at Velkovsky’s, which ended badly, but he’d had a good time before he bumped into Mrs. Allen. Other than that he’d had a beer here and there, getting buzzed extremely quickly thanks to his practically non-existent tolerance. And there have been a couple nights with you since he started sleeping over, the two of you sitting at your dining table with a bottle of sweet white wine, getting progressively worse at Scrabble. He likes the numb feeling, everything happening without really happening. Pot can’t be that different, right?

You pop the top off the mystery container and Corey sees it’s filled with metal teeth. He watches as you break apart a little ball from the canister, a “nug” you call it, and lay it over the teeth. Your fingers work delicately but deliberately. You put the lid back on and hand it to him.

“Twist,” you say. He does as he’s told. You put one of the glass pieces in the hole in the side of the pipe, then reach out to take the grinder back. As you open it he realizes it has multiple chambers that unscrew independently, a nice design thing he appreciates. You pinch a little pile of shreds out of the chamber, dropping them into the other glass piece, which looks like a tiny goblet with a handle.

“This is the bowl,” you tell him. “To hit the bong, you gotta start with the bowl in the downstem.” You drop the bowl into the hole in the side of the bong, then pick the whole thing up with your left hand. You explain the process of lighting the bowl, inhaling, and clearing the bong.

“That sounds easy enough,” Corey says.

“It’s deceptive. It’s not like cigarettes,” you say. Then you take a hit to demonstrate. “Breathe deep, with the bottom of your lungs.” Your voice sounds dark and warped around the smoke. Then you release a huge plume toward the ceiling.

You hold the bong out to Corey and he accepts it.

“I should probably light it for you, your first time,” you say, holding up the lighter.

Corey nods his head. He closes his eyes and tries to empty his lungs completely. Then he leans down to put his lips on the bong, looking up at you through his eyelashes as you flick the lighter. Everything goes well until he pulls the bowl to clear the pipe. He panics immediately, coughing and putting the bong on the table still filled with swirling smoke. He coughs so hard tears come to his eyes. You look at him with a combination of pity and mirth.

“What the fuck!?” He chokes, wiping his eyes.

“It’s deceptive!” You say, suppressing a laugh. “Are you okay?”

He looks at you with a dark expression, embarrassed and slightly betrayed.

“Poor baby,” you pout.

Poor Baby. His breath hitches. Even hearing it sarcastically, the pet name strikes him hard. Twice as hard as the other week when you called him sir. Since he’s been in the south the occasional old lady has called him some term of endearment in a grandmotherly way. It always flusters him, the way these women so casually dole out maternal affection, something his own mother wielded like a weapon. But no one has ever, ever called him baby like that. He’s grateful that the coughing fit gives him an excuse for being so red.

“There is a way that might be easier,” you coo. “You can get it second hand.”

Corey clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what you mean, but you seem to want him to guess. You sit there patiently.

“Show me,” he finally says.

Grabbing the pipe from the coffee table, you take a much bigger hit than before. He’s astounded at the apparent capacity of your lungs. You hold it in as you lean closer to him. When the tips of your noses almost touch you say one word in your growly smoke-filtered voice.

“Inhale.”

Then you blow the smoke into his face in a long, even stream.

Corey inhales and fills his lungs, breathing to the bottom like you told him to. He closes his eyes and hears you taking another massive hit as he exhales. You lean back into him, so close that your lips brush his on the second syllable.

“Inhale.”

Corey parts his lips and you breathe into his mouth. You keep your face close to his as he exhales. Then you kiss him, once, twice before pulling away.

“How do you feel?”

“Uh…” He feels very flustered but he doesn’t think it has much to do with the weed. “Normal?”

“Give it a couple minutes,” you say, nodding. Then, sort of suddenly, “There’s so much you haven’t done, isn’t there?”

Ostensibly it’s a question, but you know Corey well enough to know it’s a statement of fact. Of course there’s a lot he has done, things that most people never will. Most people will never look evil in the eye. Most people will never commit a murder, on accident or on purpose, much less 10 of them. Most people will never meet a beautiful girl while they live in hiding, waiting every day for the other shoe to drop. But none of it’s the kind of thing you can put on your resume. He's painfully aware of how sheltered he was for most of his life.

“You’re a strange man, Corey Carpenter,” you say. The sound of his fake name from your lips stings, but your tone soothes him. The way you say you’re strange, it might as well mean I love you.

Corey swallows hard. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels huge. Why is his mouth so dry? His lips stick together. “Can I have something to drink?” He asks hoarsely.

“Cotton mouth huh?” You say, patting his knee. “It’s working.”

You go into the kitchen and Corey hears you making two glasses of water. It seems like you’re gone forever, like each second lasts a year, like the world is in slo-mo. His heart rages against his ribcage. His head feels like a helium balloon, floating up and bumping against the tall historic ceilings, so far away even the string is out of reach. He thinks about calling your name, and feels like it takes several business days for his mouth to actually follow through.

You pad in from the kitchen with the waters. You’ve been gone for 90 seconds. He calls your name just as you come into view, and he feels like he’s done a magic trick.

“How do you feel?” You ask again, handing him his glass.

“Weird,” he says.

“Good weird, or bad weird?”

“I can’t tell.” He looks at you for guidance. “I think I can feel my skin more than usual.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim. “You’re stoned!”

You sit down behind him on the couch. He tries to turn to face you, but you grab him by the shoulders and turn him back around. You gently scratch his back with both hands.

“How does that feel?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, he’s too absorbed in the sensations. He writhes around, trying to get whatever park of his back is currently under your nails closer to you. When you move one hand up his neck to his scalp, he leans so far into your touch that he falls backwards against you. You bring your face down to his, keeping your hand in his hair. You look into his half lidded eyes.

“This is cool,” he says, and giggles. His nerves are electrified, your nails on his scalp sending tingles radiating through his whole body. He looks down to check because he could swear he’s hovering six inches above the couch. He feels so immaterial that he’s surprised he doesn’t phase right through you. “I’m a ghost,” he whispers.

You cackle. “You’re a ghost, Corey?”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing too. He tries to fight off a full blown laughing fit. What’s even so funny? He’s not sure. His thoughts feel like they have to swim to get to him. If he doesn’t focus hard enough, they drift away. He sits up and turns to face you.

“What do you feel like you want to do? Is the music okay? Do you need anything?” You ask.

He considers. He had forgotten all about the music until you mentioned it, but now he’s falling into it, absorbed in waves by the guitar riffs. He picks up his glass and only means to take a sip, but finds himself chugging. He looks around the apartment, glowing warm from the lamp and the candles, and he looks at your face, soft and dreamlike in the light. He can feel himself grinning stupidly, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face. Your questions swim hard to get to him.

“The music… feels nice. Like I’m inside it,” he says.

“I love that feeling! But if you really wanna feel inside it, you need something fuzzier than this,” you say, scrolling through your playlists.

“Fuzzy?” He asks. You put a finger up. Hold on a second.

A new song starts playing. It is instantly cacophonous. It sounds like it was made by bees. It is fuzzy, that’s the perfect word for it. It feels like it’s massaging his brain. Even the singer’s voice is raspy and more like an instrument. He can’t understand the lyrics at all, but the vocals evoke a strong feeling anyway. The sound wraps around him like a warm blanket.

You grab the remote and turn the music up a little bit, swaying along serenely. Corey feels hypnotized watching you, your movements like a pendulum swinging in front of his eyes. You are so gorgeous, and you look so happy. He impulsively reaches out to touch your face. You nuzzle into his hand, and he feels like his heart stops beating.

He wishes the moment could last forever, but a new song comes on and it’s much faster than the last one. You spring off the couch and throw yourself around the living room, dancing with abandon.

Corey hasn’t danced in over a year, not since the Halloween party. He has not so much as tapped his foot, even with all the new music he’s enjoyed at your suggestion. Every time he wants to do something with you he did with Allyson he feels hesitant. He’s still avoided giving you a ride on his bike, and he hasn’t met anyone else in your life, although he suspects he can’t hold off on meeting Veronica much longer. But he feels so warm and tingly right now, and you’re having so much fun. He jumps up and joins you.

The two of you circle each other like sharks. You lunge forward and grab his hands, pulling him close to you, then pushing him away. He lets you swing him all around the living room. You spin under his arm and then into it so your back is pressed against him with his arm around your waist. You and Corey bounce and sway as a unit, sensing and anticipating each other’s movements. He feels you give into your impulse to grind on him and it makes his knees weak. The way you wiggle your hips back against him is torturous. A pained little noise escapes despite his efforts to stay quiet as he wills himself not to get hard. It’s a losing battle. Oh my god. He’s not sure if he thinks it or says it, but you press against him one more time, harder and slower, before spinning back out of his arm.

He’s not gonna let you get away that easily, using his hold on your hand to pull you back to him, and wrapping his other arm around your waist. Your giggle comes out like a squeal. You look up at him with wide, starry eyes. Another new song begins. He’s not sure why, but Corey feels like it’s the kind of song that would play at prom. He didn’t go to his prom, he didn’t go to any school dances. Momma never would’ve allowed it, so he just didn’t ask. Slow dancing is pretty intuitive though. He keeps you clasped against him tightly as the two of you rotate slowly in the candle light.

You sigh contentedly into his shoulder and press your hips against him. Every sensation feels amplified, and the softness of your belly against him through his jeans is insane. He puts his face in your hair and grinds against you, reveling in your smell as his breathing gets heavier. Nothing exists except you and the music. He wants to be inside you. With his cock, yes, as deep as he can get it, but also with his soul. He doesn’t have much, but he would give you everything. He wants to say I love you despite knowing it’s too soon. It would be okay if you didn’t say it back, if you just needed time. But he wouldn’t be able to take it if it scared you away, so he keeps quiet.

“Corey,” you say, ending his trance. “Tell me something fucked up about you.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, suddenly nervous.

“I don’t know. Something that follows you from your childhood, or… Something you think about a lot even though you know you shouldn’t. Something you hesitate to tell people, or that you’ve never told anyone.” You pull away slightly and meet his eyes, searching.

“Oh, I…” he starts then trails off. He looks away. What is he supposed to say to that? There’s no shortage of fucked up things about him, no end to the things he hesitates to tell people.

“You’re safe with me, Corey,” you coax him.

He knows you think you mean it, that you would accept him for a petty criminal record, a weird kink, an ugly divorce. Even if he told you his whole life story, he believes that you would hold his hand, right up until… Well, he’s not sure where the boundary is. Jeremy? The homeless man? Luring Doug to Michael, the first time he ended a life completely intentionally?

Not knowing the boundary isn’t as scary as the questions. He might say something well within the safe zone, but anything he says at all could lead you to ask questions. Questions the internet would happily supply the answers to even if Corey didn't. Questions with answers that would bring you well outside your limits, wherever they are. Finding out just who exactly has been sleeping in your bed would certainly mean the end of the relationship, and probably the end of Corey’s life too.

He looks back to you and then, up through the fog, he thinks of something he can tell you. A story that stands on its own, a story that you can’t google.

“When I was twelve,” he starts, “I found a lighter in the seat on the school bus.” The events play like a movie in his head, and he’s transported back to an autumn when he had just a tiny bit of freedom. Momma had burned all the bridges at her old job and her new one wouldn’t give her her preferred schedule yet. She hated when Corey would be home alone for any amount of time after school. But being a single mom trying to keep food on the table meant that for a few months she didn’t have the option of getting off in time to be home when he got there, temporarily granting him the luxury of being a latchkey kid.

“I put it in my backpack and kept it on me all day at school. I just kept thinking about it, like I could feel it in there, waiting. When I got home I knew I had a couple of hours alone. I spent it burning stuff. Pieces of cardboard from the garbage or whatever. I thought it was so cool how the fire could just… completely erase things. I wanted to watch something bigger disappear.

“My neighbors across the street had a car up on blocks. It didn’t have an engine. It had been sitting there for as long as I could remember. One of the windows was rolled down, or maybe just missing, so it was full of trash and leaves. I waited til nobody was looking and I lit a piece of cardboard and dropped it in. Then I ran home and watched it from my bedroom window.

“It was awesome. All the shit inside caught so fast, then the seats, then the frame. You wouldn’t think metal would turn to ash and float away, but it does. Cars are paper thin. I cut through them with a torch at work all the time.

“The fire got really fucking big. A lot bigger than I expected. I thought when the car burnt out, the fire would disappear, like it did with a cereal box. But the grass was super dry. It spread across the yard and caught my neighbor’s garage. I ... I didn’t call 911 because I was scared they would know it was me. Eventually someone else called, but the garage was gone by the time the fire department came.”

Corey basks in the rapt look in your eyes as he tells his story, still holding you close and swaying slightly. It feels so good to just be honest with you about something. Not to have to tiptoe around his secret. He can’t believe the way you eat it up.

“Then what?” You ask, awed.

“I don’t know. They never found out it was me.”

“Holy shit. You could’ve burned down the whole neighborhood, you little arsonist!” You poke him in the chest and laugh. "I should've known you were a firebug, Mr. Lights His Cigs with Matches."

“Guilty,” Corey says. Guiltier than you know. “What about you? Are you gonna tell me something fucked up about you?”

You pull out of his arms slightly, not to get away, but to bring him with you to the couch. He sits down with you, one arm still around your waist. You hit the bong. As you exhale you gesture to offer him more, but he’s still plenty stoned and he wants to focus on whatever you’re about to say.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you say.

Corey is confused until he realizes you’re presenting your arm to him. The Carrie tattoo. He runs his fingers over it. With his sense heightened, he feels like he can read it like braille. He thinks back to the night the two of you watched Carrie. How you had unknowingly validated him. How he hoped you could find a way to feel your feelings about Carrie, about him.

“There was this guy. He used to be hot shit in the music scene here. I think at one point he was in… four different bands? I knew we had all these mutual friends, and I saw him around all the time. I mean, he was almost impossible to avoid. And he was cute, and he was talented. I thought that maybe he and I could really be something. But we just didn’t click like I hoped we would. Not like I click with you.

“I kept going on dates with him, even though I wasn’t feeling it. I wanted to feel it, or … I don’t know. It makes less sense the longer ago it happened. I guess he never picked up on the fact that I was pulling away. He was gone on tour a lot and I kinda hoped he would just get distracted and forget about me. But he didn’t. Even after I spelled it out for him, he still acted like we were together. I had to start avoiding shows his bands played, certain bars I knew he liked. I would still see him everywhere though. He would put his arm around me, try to make plans with me, whatever. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer, for months. It was so bad Veronica would physically get in between us so he would leave me alone.”

Corey clenches his jaw. He remembers the way Doug disrespected Allyson in front of him. Doug had treated Corey like shit too, threatening him when he arrived on the scene after the accident with Jeremy, making Corey’s handcuffs too tight. He deserved what he got just for that. But the thing Corey really couldn’t take was the way Doug pretended to be interested in Allyson, to care for her, while making her visibly uncomfortable. The way Doug acted like he owned her, like she owed him something, like she was too stupid to make her own choices. That was why Doug had to die. And as you talk, Corey silently promises that if he ever sees the guy from this story, he’ll have to die too.

“So on Halloween we did a bar crawl, everybody from work. And we all dressed up like Stephen King characters. I was Carrie and Veronica was Wendy from The Shining. Have you ever seen it?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, Veronica was a character that carries around a baseball bat for part of the film. And she went to the bathroom and she had me hold her bat.” You pause, making a sour face.

“Oh my god… I just realized. He must have seen that I was with people and waited. I thought the timing was a coincidence, but maybe it wasn’t. He was shit-faced, but I guess he wasn’t too far gone to realize he could only get near me when she and Rose left. That fucking asshole!

“Anyway, Veronica went to the bathroom and he came up behind me and put his hand on my stomach and tried to dance with me. And I just got so fucking angry… I broke his nose and three fingers.”

“You beat him with the bat?” Corey asks, trying not to sound too excited. You look at him with narrowed eyes, like you’re trying to figure something out. He looks down, not wanting to give himself away.

“I didn’t beat him, exactly. When he put his hand on me I just kinda…” You grab the three middle fingers on one of Corey’s hands. He looks back up, meeting your eyes, and holds his breath. You bend his fingers sideways, gently but firmly. First it’s a nice stretch, then it hurts. He doesn’t react. He trusts you not to actually break his fingers, but he almost feels like he would let you if you wanted to. You hold his fingers at that unnatural angle for a long moment. Then you let go.

“Like that. But harder, and faster. I didn’t think they would break so easy or that it would fuck up his tendons and stuff, but I was tipsy and full of adrenaline and I just… Did it. And then I hit him in the face with the bat, once. Once was enough.

“I was dressed like Carrie, and it felt kind of supernatural the way my instincts just took over so I could defend myself. I didn’t know I had that in me. I got the tattoo so I would never forget.”

Corey is completely smitten. He takes your hands, pressing his palms into yours, knowing you’ve both felt the vibration of someone else’s bones breaking. His impression of you as a huntress was more correct than he could’ve ever hoped. You’re genuinely dangerous.

His desire to say I love you floods back to him, but he bites his tongue. He has to figure out the perfect way to tell you.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #mine #fan fic

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sidhewrites · 3 months

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Chapter 1! Here we meet our main character Zanna and her friends, and see the faire where she works. I'm still debating whether to have a year-round faire or take a more realistic route and have her be a barista the rest of the year. We'll see. Till then, read ye well gentlefriends!

Project Info

Next Chatper

Zanna was boiling under five layers of hand-sewn fabric, practically melting under the southern California sun. Granted, it was entirely her fault for deciding to make a perfectly accurate costume, rather than the more-breathable pieces most of her coworkers opted for, but it was the principle of the thing, damn it. Even if she was more sweat than woman. Olive, who was dressed as Queen Elizabeth, was similarly miserable, her little hand fan doing hardly anything as they looked down at the jousting ring below.

"Take your thirty after the joust," Zanna whispered, in that elegant, conspiratorial way expected of renaissance noblewomen. "If you don't strip down and jump into the lake, I will."

Olive bit down hard on her tongue, fighting not to break character, and she kicked Zanna as subtly as she could.

Not that anyone was looking at them anyway. But, again, it was the principle of the thing. They were positioned in a box of seats, about fifteen feet above the sandy arena surrounded by benches and pennants. The first two knights and their squires paraded in a circle around the arena, to the cheers and jeers of their guests. It was a normal crowd for a Saturday, with a mix of people in regular clothes and sunscreen, costumed visitors, and two furries. Zanna would have been sure they had dissolved into a puddle of sweat by now, were they not as enthusiastic as the rest of the crowd, if not moreso.

Olive kicked her again as [Name] announced the Blue and Red knights, and out came the biggest, beefiest man Zanna had ever met, and the most beautiful woman she'd ever known. Sir Carter and Lady Ellie had been dating for two years now, but that didn't make Zanna's heart leap any less as she turned her horse to the queen's box and raised her red flag in salute before trotting a ring around the arena, followed by Carter. Zanna wanted so badly to hate him for dating the woman of her dreams, but they were both incredibly -- almost painfully nice -- people, who always made sure there was enough water bottles in the cooler, and Carter offered shoulder massages to anyone who looked like they needed it.

"How are the sword lessons going?" The only reason Olive didn't waggle her eyebrows at Zanna was because she was good at staying at character, but there was enough smarm in her voice that the effect was basically the same.

After making sure her expression didn't move an inch, Zanna leaned over and muttered, "I'll kill you."

"That's treason. I'll send you to the pillory."

"Would you two shut up?" another one of the nobles muttered.

"That's treason," Olive answered.

"Send him to the pillory," Zanna added.

The nobleman groaned.

The joust went on. There were three rounds, and Ellie performed poorly in all of them. In the first, the knights had to hook three hanging rings onto their lances for a certain number of points, and Ellie managed to only get the largest one. In the second, the knights had to pierce a small shield, which she missed entirely. And in the last round where the nights went up against each other in a true joust, Carter unseated her in the first round, earning him enough points that it wasn't worth continuing. She made a show of not minding, waving to the crowd with a smile, but Zanna made a note to check on her as soon as they were done here. She would not be happy with her performance, but everyone had off days.

The crowd applauded, and Olive descended the stairs to the field they called backstage, followed by the rest of the group in the noble's box. Three different trailers held costumes and props, and, most importantly, air conditioning and refrigerated drinks. Musicians and actors dressed as lesser nobility had been enjoying their break, but they clocked back in and prepared for the procession as Olive hopped into her sedan chair. Zanna spared a glance to the stables on the other side of the field, where the knights were tending to their horses.

Ellie sat on a barrel, face in her dirt-covered hands. She'd torn her red hair from her ponytail and it hung over her face. Carter did his best to brush it back, but she shoved him off, and cursed something Zanna couldn't hear from her spot in the procession. They lined up in pairs, and four of their strongest men lifted the queen's sedan, while the caller raised his pennant and the drummer began.

"Make way for the queen!" he shouted. The drummer set their pace, and the procession made a slow trek out from backstage into the main walkway where Faire guests ambled about, spending far too much money on food and convincing themselves they didn't regret buying a turkey leg. Many of the more experienced guests knew to bow as the queen went past, waving and smiling, while the rest either photographed or ignored the procession entirely. Zanna kept her facade for most of the way, keeping a serene smile, but beamed at the sight of two little Black girls dressed as princesses with sparkly plastic tiaras. They couldn't have been more than four, maybe five. Zanna herself was one of only three Black actors in the procession this year, and she wasn't about to pass by without waving. She'd have to go find them after checking on Ellie and give them something special.

They crossed the entirety of the fairgrounds, past the food court and the line of shops, the various stages and performers, the fairy garden, the petting zoo, and the small dirt-paved street that was lined with games, both on-theme and bought secondhand from an amusement park that shut down a few years back. Finally, they arrived at the Queen's Tea Garden, a lavishly decorated outside salon with benches and tea and flower garlands. Park goers payed extra for the honor of being allowed to dine with the queen, enjoying finger sandwiches and iced drinks, and where Zanna shone.

Four times throughout the day, Zanna provided etiquette lessons to the guests, offering a mix of humor and accuracy and giving a shallow overview of Renaissance clothing, manners, theater, and miscellanea. She also had two less historically accurate shows where she tried her best to provide lectures, but the Washing Wenches* would always hop in and ruin her serious, boring lecture with bawdy jokes and songs. At some point they usually wound up sitting on the laps of burly men in the first few rows, while Zanna obliged their demands with a few raunchy tales of history as well.

But first, break. The procession passed the Queen's Tea Garden. Olive was released from her sedan, and Zanna made a beeline over to take her arm, and force her to clock out for her thirty. "Drink water, okay?"

"Okay, mom. Thank you. Love you."

"I love you, too. Be good or I'll put you in timeout." Olive blew her a kiss, hiked up her skirts, and made a mad dash around the back to the stables to check on Ellie. A new layer of sweat painted her face, and a few of her microbraids had fallen out of her updo. Still, she managed to make it there alive, and slowed to a walk as she finally neared the stables.

As sexy as Ellie looked riding around on Squidney, or in her tank top and jeans brushing the horse down, Zanna had no interest in getting near an animal that big and that easy to scare. She stood ten feet away and put on a terrible western accent to say, "Howdy."

Ellie looked up with a tired grin. "Hey. You look wet."

"Oh. I..." Don't think about it like that, Zanna forced herself to say, gesticulating uselessly to her face. She's straight, don't you dare. "I ran over here, and it's April, so..."

"Gross. Get some water."

"I will. I just wanted to check on you first."

"Check on me? Why?" She huffed a breath out, blowing loose horse fur out from her nose.

"You're having a seriously off day. You doing okay?"

"Eh."

"Eh?"

"Eh."

"You want to elaborate, or...?" She gestured uselessly again.

"No, I just... I dunno. I didn't sleep last night. Neighbors kept setting off fireworks."

There was more to it than that. There had to be more to it than that, but Zanna didn't want to push too hard when Ellie was still in a bad mood. They'd been friends ever since Ellie joined, fresh from her stunt woman job and ready for literally anything else that didn't require her dealing with actors or wigs for the rest of her life. This was close enough. So instead, Zanna got as close as she dared to Squidney and tried to reach out and pet her nose. She was a beautiful brown horse with a white stripe down her face. She also was probably eight hundred pounds and could bite Zanna's fingers off.

"Stop it," Ellie said without looking up.

"What?"

"Stop it. You hate horses. Stop trying to be nice to her. She doesn't care."

"Sure she does. We're best friends. Squidney loves me."

"She has the object permanence of a toddler, and she only cares about you if you have food. You don't have to be friends."

"But we love each other. It's a forbidden romance. But we can never be together because our parents are kings of warring countries and they'd never approve."

Squidney sorted. So did Ellie. "God, you're so weird." She finally stepped away from the mare's side to stick out a foot. It was too hot and Ellie was covered in too much dirt for a proper hug, but Zanna returned the gesture, tapping their sneakers together. "What the hell are those?"

"My shoes." Zanna pouted.

"Ew. Why?"

"Let me live." The shoes were necessary, much to her eternal chagrin. She had flat feet and her knees never stopped hurting after that last growth spurt in high school, and the special inserts she'd gotten only fit in specific shoes meant for old people.

"Literally never."

"Have you had any water yet, or have you just been brushing your baby and brooding?"

Ellie shrugged.

"I'll get you some from the break room. Snacks?"

"Apple please."

"I mean snacks for you,"

Ellie scoffed, indignant. "It is for me! I want an apple!"

Zanna made a face, and waved her away, turning towards the break room trailer. "Okay, but if you give Squid even one bite before you're done eating it--"

"I only did that once! And I was done eating it!"

Zanna waved without looking back, which she thought looked extremely cool.

She found Carter in the break room, downing a sandwich like he'd never eaten before, and he looked up with a grin. He'd swapped out his chainmail and tunic for nothing at all, and sat in his shorts directly in front of the fan. Ever the ray of sunshine, Carter tried to open his mouth and say something nice, but managed nothing more than a houmf, and flushed.

"Indeed, Sir Carter. The day is as lovely as your biceps." She rooted around the fridge while he finished his bite.

When he could talk again, he said, "Sorry. I wasn't expecting you. You see Ellie? She's having a seriously off day."

"Yeah. Apparently the neighbors were setting off firecrackers or something?"

"Honestly. You know it's illegal here, right?"

Zanna scoffed, and stood up, examining her treasures. Two apples, and four bottles of water, one of which she tossed to Carter.

He caught it effortlessly, and made a face. "It's like you want everybody to pee so much."

"I fainted from dehydration once. I'm not letting anyone else get heatstroke on my watch."

He blew a raspberry. Zanna returned the favor, and stopped before leaving the trailer. "We still on for sword fighting lessons after work?"

"Always."

"Awesome. See you then."

She skipped back to the stables once more, and hoped she'd burnt enough calories with all that running to justify not going to the gym ever again. She handed one apple to Ellie, and then stared Squidney down with a set jaw.

Ellie, perched once more on a barrel, downed half the bottle of water and sighed. "Literally stop. You literally suck."

"We're best friends."

"Hold your hand flat or she'll eat your fingers."

Zanna did so, holding out the apple in the middle of her palm, standing as still as she possibly could. Squidney sniffed at it, flicked her tail, and picked up the whole apple at once. Her lips were gross and weird and slightly fuzzy against Zanna's skin, and she fought the urge to rub it against her skirt to get the feeling off. Squidney managed to get one bite in before the apple fell to the grass and rolled just far enough away that she couldn't reach it. She nickered in complaint, and Zanna stepped back, unwilling to deal with that again.

Ellie tilted her head, one brow raised. "You are the pinnacle of animal handling."

"I think I'm going to die."

"She barely touched you."

"Goodbye. This is my death."

"Stop."

Zanna did stop, but only because her phone buzzed in her pocket -- the only other historical inaccuracy she allowed herself. The shift manager wanted to know where she was, probably because there was some tiny issue he didn't want to deal with himself, and Zanna was willing to do almost anything if they asked her nicely enough.

"Your lord summons you, Lady Suzanna."

"Until tonight, Lady Ellie."

She frowned before remembering: "Oh shit, sword lessons are tonight? Text me what kind of burrito you want, I'll get you something."

"I would die for you."

"I'd kill you." Ellie grinned, and they tapped shoes once more before Zanna made her way back to the other side of the park, where Olive had dropped her wig in the dirt. Zanna, being Zanna, had a full costume maintenance kit, and set to brushing it without disturbing the elaborate heart-shaped updo or the countless pearls and jewels sewn in to complement the removable crown. As thanks, Olive slipped into plainclothes to sneak out and get her a smoothie from one of the food kiosks.

Zanna put up a small fight about it, but not too hard, because, smoothie. But it was what she did. Nobody worked at a living museum/theme park because it paid well -- it didn't -- or because they liked standing around in hot clothes in ninety degree weather. They were all here because they loved what they did, and Zanna wouldn't let any of that be compromised because of a bit of mud or a stain on a skirt or one of the countless spilled beers from a careless guest.

By the time her break ended, the Queen Elizabeth wig was looking brand new, and Zanna had downed half an acai-blueberry smoothie. She'd take care of the rest of it and eat her lunch later. For now, though, she fixed her hair, and put on a smile to face the public.

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