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azukiel · 6 months

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Nightfall Heir Chapter 6

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

Regrettably, Astarion had important tasks to complete and couldn't join you on your journey back. Despite your offer to keep him company at the Halls of Justice, he knew he would just want to keep riding you to oblivion after what had just occurred. He assured and promised to do so upon his return home. That had brought a deep blush to your cheeks, which only caused him to smirk and laugh.

“How long do you think it will be before you’re done?” You asked, sending him a telling gaze.

“Well,” he grinned as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. “I intend to make quick work of my reports.”

You grinned deviously. “Hurry home as fast as you can. I’ll have dinner ready,” you offered.

“We don’t need dinner, my love.”

You shook your head, chuckling, “You may not need food, but I do!”

“Oh, I know, but I intend to devour you entirely. Make sure you're well fed before I return.”

“Is that an order?” You fluttered your eyelashes bashfully.

“Yes!” He gave you a quick, teasing slap on your backside. “So when you get home, make sure you rest. You're going to need your energy tonight.”

“So ravenous,” you purred.

“Only for you,” he smirked.

“So you’ve told me,” you grinned, and brought him in for a hug and a last deep kiss.

“See you later,” he murmured, his ruby gaze fixated on your eyes.

“Try to hurry home,” you reiterated, staring back intently.

“I shall see what I can do.”

As the two of you unlocked your loving hold on each other, you rose to the tip of your toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “My heroic magistrate, off to do the law’s bidding.”

His smouldering gaze was all-knowing, but he chuckled anyway, rolling his eyes at your banter. “Off you go.”

And so you did, taking his advice and making the long walk back to your humble abode. Your mind lingered on the pleasant events that just transpired. Gods, there was something so pleasantly filthy - raunchy - in what you had both just done.

The memory made you nibble on your bottom lip and shiver from his promises. You needed to get home and rest, for he was going to utterly devour you. The events left you utterly depleted, and your mind continued to speculate on his recent insatiable appetite. The sudden occurrence happened even before menstruation, so there was no room for complaint. You resolved to discuss it with him at some later time. Perhaps he was just content to finally being free to control his own life; finally free to feel the true warmth of being loved and needed. Of being wanted. For many years, it was something you had desired. Astarion's fall for you introduced you to a love you had never known. The elusive feeling of a true love's kiss and the longing embrace of someone who truly desired you had always been out of reach. You had only ever known pain. You were grateful that the two of you could find such euphoric joy in one another. The partnership may not be seen as appropriate or respectable by everyone, but you felt no shame in his arms. With him by your side, you felt you could accomplish anything.

If the city was still in one piece, your walk would have not taken so long. Due to numerous collapsed buildings and broken roads awaiting repair, you had to take a longer route. With main roads still crowded with repair crews, merchants, and people going about their daily business, you chose the quieter back streets that had been cleared. With the many dilapidated structures, homeless people seeking shelter could find reprieve against the elements.

Your heart went out to those poor, innocent people. It agonized you to see the destruction that had been done by the Absolute.

Continuing on your way, you offered a couple of gold coins to the desperate people who approached you. Giving up a few coins for the greater good didn't bother you. Making Baldur's Gate a pleasant place to reside was necessary. Sighing, you continued on your way, reaching narrower and less populated alleys. You were heading into the bowels of the lower city now.

Your Drow senses quickly detected that you were being followed. The sensation of being spied on caused you to quickly look back, but there was nothing unusual in sight. Squinting your eyes, you sped up your pace.

You couldn’t hear the footsteps running up from behind you, for their movements were far too light for mortal ears to detect. But you felt them. The cold fury that surrounded your pursuer was like icy teeth latching onto your skin. Spinning on the spot, your magic arced up your fingertips in eager anticipation of a fight. You were not known to be cowardly, and neither did you like the idea of getting caught unawares.

You steeled yourself to counter any form of attack, whether physical or one of a magical nature. Yet, no matter how hard you scrutinised, there were no visible signs of any potential opponents. At first, you were confused and concerned. Were you just being paranoid? Had the many nights with Astarion clouded your senses?

Deciding it was just your nerves or your own imagination playing tricks upon you, you turned around, intent on continuing home. Only there was a subtle, melancholic humming in the air, as if singing a sad ballad. It sent your senses on a tingling wave, for the tone of it reminded you of the soothing murmur of the brooks and streams from home, deep within the Underdark. A home that, in truth, you did not miss.

Ignoring the musical notes dancing along the back of your neck, you continued on. Though you did so, your feet felt heavier with every step. A sinking feeling began in the pit of your stomach, a sensation that told you something was terribly wrong.

Glancing over your shoulder once more, you felt a chill breeze snake its way through the folds of your skirts. It made you shudder, and the melody seemed to hum louder, beckoning you into the unknown. Your senses were screaming at you.

Suddenly, your entire body stopped. Though it did not physically strain from the opposing force, the invisible chains of whatever spell that had been woven around you seemed to tighten their grip.

Despite the painful seizure of your body, you twisted your head around enough to see the figure a short distance behind you, cloaked in shadows. Through gritted teeth you muttered an incantation, and the twisting of the invincible chains vanished as the figure screamed, clutching the sides of their head. You knew it was wise not to linger and went to chant an invincibility spell, but no sooner did you open your mouth to mutter the words did you feel something being pulled over your head and tightened around your throat. The tingling of the weave which coursed through your veins vanished.

“No...” Items that could subdue your powers were virtually unheard of.

Your knees abruptly gave way, and you toppled to the ground. You felt every ounce of your breath being squeezed from your lungs. The cloaked figure, who previously tried to subdue you, approached while still holding their head.

“Mistress’ orders. She is not to be harmed.” Came the gruff male voice.

You heard a female scoff. “I know! You needn’t remind me! We need to bring her back immediately. She is fighting the collar. I do not know how long it will last.”

All you can remember is the blunt pain of a fist connecting with your skull.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion has a child with tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate astarion #astarion my beloved

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ddollipop · 2 years

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BITE INTO ME HARDER, SINK YOUR TEETH INTO MY FLESH. . . ! — ( KAEYA ALBERICH. )

#. synopsis! — while rummaging about in kaeya’s office, a first-time petty criminal paid off by the fatui finds herself caught a little too red-handed. a shattered wine bottle leads to the knight’s most coveted secret unweaving, and you quickly realize that the “wine” in that bottle is no alcoholic beverage. it’s blood. kaeya alberich is a vampire, and it’s been quite a while since he last fed from human prey. . . an agreement is reached .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , vampire!kaeya , petty-criminal!reader , begging , oral sex , blowjobs , vaginal sex , office sex , wall sex , bloodsucking , biting , light sub/dom dynamics , cumming on ass , cum eating , cum swallowing , dirty talk , apology sex .

#. word count! — 4.5k .

#. a/n! — this was obviously supposed to go up on halloween, but yk, took the L on that one. hope everyone enjoys anyway, even if it's roughly three days late lol.

Sometimes, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do; for yourself, and at some points, for others. A period of financial hardship recently fell upon your family, and though it’s mostly been resolved by now, the lingering fear that it could happen again has surmounted in you taking a rather. . . Foolish deal. Like most citizens of Mondstadt, you’ve been wary of the Fatui’s presence in the nation. They seem to be up to nefarious things that people like you aren’t privy to, and the prying eyes that sit deep behind their masks always unnerve you as you pass them by. Today, however, you were actually approached by one of them, —one who promised you a small fortune for a devious act.

Initially, you were quick to turn her away. Mora wasn’t worth working with the likes of the Fatui, you thought. . . But sometimes, moral sacrifices have to be made. You thought back to your scrambling family, uncertain of where their next meal would be coming from, thought back to the sleepless nights you spent doing odd jobs around the city that nobody else would touch just to be able to afford a few basic necessities. And then, against your better judgment, you accepted her conditions as long as she promised to keep you anonymous from her allies and request nothing of you ever again going forward.

A part of you wonders, even now that you’re trapped in the thick of it, if she’ll truly hold up her end of the bargain. You can only hope she’ll have enough decency to be true to her word.

With uncertain hands, you rummage about Kaeya’s personal office. All it took was a few minutes of begging and a few mustered up tears for you to be let in, —told that Kaeya was currently returning from a mission and would be back soon enough. You kept up the act; played the guards like a fiddle, and had to admit that there was a certain thrill in doing so that you hadn’t expected to enjoy so much. Sniffling, you thanked them profusely for their kindness, (for their stupidity,) and sat alone in the room until you were sure they’d gone on their ways.

That’s when the search began. Maybe there’s a method to Kaeya’s madness, but you certainly don’t get it. Then again, you’re not exactly sure what you’re supposed to be looking for either. It’s possible that the woman had simply approached you to test your limits, see if you’d be willing to commit an act of betrayal against your nation. . . When you think about it like that, it makes you want to run away from it all, offer apologies in advance for something you haven't even officially done yet.

But it’s too late to turn back now, and if the worst comes to pass again, you’ll need the Mora you’ve been promised. At the end of the day, your obligations are first to your family; not to Mondstadt as a whole. So, you continue forth with your rummaging, flicking through useless papers that would likely be of no interest to your commissioner. There were no specific instructions, but the last thing you’d want is to go through all this trouble only to be told that your efforts were in vain. As such, you’re left rifling through documents and letters, stationary items, and other miscellaneous things. Nothing that you would personally consider to be of note, —but maybe the Fatui will have some use for one of Kaeya’s personal letters to someone unnamed about the sweet taste of wine in the fall.

Frustration takes hold, your heart hammering like a drum in your chest as you try to listen for footsteps in the hall. The last thing you need from this is to be caught snooping around in the Cavalry Captain’s office.

With that in mind, —it seems you've jinxed yourself. In your attempt to be swift, you open a drawer much too quickly, and its contents spill out onto the floor. A glass bottle shatters, and with it, your nerves fry themselves into a dish unsuitable for even the wild animals of the forests. The distinct, metallic scent of blood fills your nose, and you reach up, thinking that the fear has left you with a nosebleed. However, you quickly realize. . . That’s not the case.

Rather, the pool of red liquid at your feet emanates the strong odor. You’re no wine connoisseur by any means, —but you’ve never smelled one that reeks of blood. That can’t possibly be normal. . . Right?

You bend down, dabbing the tips of your middle and index fingers into the substance. It clings much too well, feels thinly viscous when you rub it against your thumb, and it stinks of iron.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

You flinch so hard that every cell in your body seems to retract at the sound of Kaeya’s voice suddenly piping up from the corner. He stands nonchalantly, arms crossed over his chest, and that characteristic smirk clinging to the edges of his lips. In long, confident strides, he approaches you from the opposite side of the office, reaching out for you. His lithe fingers wrap around your wrist, —both soft, yet firm in grip.

When he brings your fingers to his mouth, you're stunned by the display he makes of licking the pads of them clean. The red liquid stains his tongue before he swallows it down, sucking on your digits for just a moment in what you can only assume is a gesture of good measure. You're too shocked to even think about pulling away.

"Ah," Kaeya clicks his newly cleaned tongue, "it seems we've run into a bit of a problem here, no?"

You swallow roughly, uncertain of what to say or do. You've been caught red-handed, very literally so, and you're at a loss as to where to go from here. A part of you wonders if turning on the waterworks will play out in your favor with Kaeya the way it did with the guards. Somehow, you doubt it. . .

"I'm sorry," spills past your lips before you have the chance to think it through. "I'm really sorry, just please—"

"You're sorry you got caught," Kaeya interrupts, but he doesn't sound particularly upset by it.

He speaks as if making little more than a casual observation.

"I'm sure you've got a tale to tell," he continues, "probably something sad, —a little sob story about your finances sinking into nothingness and a member of the Fatui approaching you with an offer you just couldn't refuse."

You swallow again, and his grip on your wrist tightens ever so slightly. Kaeya can tell by the look in your eyes that he's hit the nail on the head.

"Don't look so surprised," he scoffs, "—you're hardly special. I've met you ten, twenty times before. It always ends the same."

He's said so little, but has eluded to so much, and Kaeya loves the way your hand quivers in his hold.

The knight leans closer to whisper to you, warm tufts of breath fanning against the burning shell of your ear: "I will say though. . . You're the prettiest thief I've ever caught in my office."

He takes note of the way you inhale sharply at his compliment, interpreting it as a thank you.

"Now it's just a matter of how to punish you," Kaeya states. "I could always hand you over to someone else and have them deal with you, but where's the fun in that?"

Fun? Celestia knows that's the last thing on your mind right now as Kaeya's fingers tighten around your wrist again, further cementing his silent point of having no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

"That stuff on the floor," you say in a voice barely above a whimper, "—is it blood?"

He laughs. It's straight from the chest, so genuine and raw that it sends shivers up the length of your spine. To you, this is anything but funny. To him, it seems that he's more amused by you than anything else.

"You couldn't figure that out from the scent?" He questions. "Of course it is. But don't look so frightened. It's not from a human; it's the blood of a boar."

It’s as if he thought that anecdote would make having a bottle of the stuff in his office any easier to swallow, no matter where it originated.

"And you just. . . Drink it?" You question.

"That's what Vampires do," he nods. "We drink blood. It's in our nature, one might say."

Vampires?

You've long heard rumors about them across Teyvat, but had always chalked them up to superstition and the imagination of parents trying to keep their children in line. Every once in a while, you'd catch wind of a forest animal found somewhere off outside the city with its body drained of blood, —but again, you'd chalk that up to little more than gossip and idle chatter.

"It's been quite a while since I've dranken straight from a human, though."

He could practically smell the surge of anxiety that rippled through your body like the evening tide to the jutting rocks just off Starsnatch Cliff.

"I-I can fix that," you stammer. "If you agree to let me go, I'll let you drink my blood, and I promise you'll never see me anywhere near your office ever again."

Kaeya laughs again, and it's no less sinister than the first.

"You think you're in any position to be driving bargains?" He snickers.

Even so, it seems to you that he's weighing the options.

"Still," he muses, "I'll admit that I admire your ability to adapt so quickly. So just for that, —lean back against the wall and tilt your head to the side. I'll consider letting you go after I've had a good taste."

You oblige, against your better judgment, knowing that if your family were to find out about any of this, you'd never have the nerve to go home again. It would be bad enough if they knew you'd been speaking with a member of the Fatui, —but to have been driven to steal from a pillar of Mondstadt's community? Completely and utterly unheard of. Just like the real, genuine existence of Vampires is completely unheard of, —but here you are, about to have your blood sucked by one. Today’s been weird, —not that you really have the time to dwell on that right now.

"Don't make any sudden movements," Kaeya warns, brushing some loose strands of hair out of the way to have complete access to your neck. "The pain subsides faster if you keep your muscles relaxed."

Funnily enough, you hadn't considered the pain aspect of it up until now, but there was definitely no turning back. You glance at him, gulping nervously at the brief glint you catch of his fangs that have come out to feed.

"Do it," you whisper breathily, voice quivering as Kaeya's pupil seems to blow, his single iris beginning to swim with a bright, scarlet red color, replacing the striking blue that once resided there.

You barely have half the mind to register the quick breath that graces your skin before he’s sunken his fangs into your flesh. The initial puncture is the worst of it, —something akin to agonizing. It leaves you whimpering, barely able to keep yourself together to remain still. Your back is pressed against the wall, barely able to stabilize you as your knees begin to quake under the pressure and the pain.

Kaeya is quick about the ordeal, no hesitation to be found in his bite. It's been a long while since he's fed directly from a human, and you can feel the eagerness of his mouth when he laps at the puncture wounds on your neck. The rake of his tongue across your newfound injuries soothes you down swiftly enough.

Your blood tastes much better than any forest creature. It's sweet and dulcet, —so velvety as it flows into his mouth and plays on his tongue. Pain soon turns to a sick sense of pleasure, one so intense that it has your eyes rolling around in your skull. Arousal swims in your veins, blood pumping faster and your body in ruins. The wet, warm heat of Kaeya's mouth drowns out all reason and rationale, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

Pleasure and pain meld together, becoming indistinguishable from one another. A blissful sense of devastation lingers in the wake of it all. The Vampire feeds, getting his fill of you as he listens to the soft moans that fall from your lips every so often. He doesn't need to pull away to see the arousal written across your face, to see the hollow expression of dream-like ecstasy you’re wearing, —although the option is certainly available. Kaeya can smell the surge of hormones running rampant inside you, along with the rampant thump of your quickening pulse.

Arousal is normal during times of feeding. It’s encouraged by the bite of a Vampire, allowing them to feed faster as blood pumps more rapidly through the heart.

With your back pressed firmly against a wall in the Cavalry Captain's office, you close your eyes and listen to the silent story of rushing fluid as your blood spills into Kaeya's desperate mouth. He could have easily drained you dry of every last drop, but managed to stop himself before the possibility was even on the horizon. When he pulls away, the corners of his mouth stained red, you watch with half-lidded eyes as he licks it up, making sure that none of your glorious crimson fluid would go to waste.

Lazily, Kaeya looks at you and inquires; “You okay?”

With glazed eyes and a pit burning deep within your stomach, your legs quiver as your back slips down the wall until you're sitting on the floor. They’re practically useless for the time being, thrumming with. . . Something. Whatever this feeling is, you’re wildly unfamiliar with it, and you don’t have the strength to question it.

"Fine," you answer dreamily, thighs squeezing together irritably.

So fine, in fact, that your clit is throbbing against the soft material of your panties.

Kaeya has seen this before. It’s why he prefers to sustain himself on animal blood, and why he avoids feeding from humans, even when the taste is far superior to the staleness that often lingers in blood that comes from a bottle. Lust after a feeding session is both common and normal; almost to be expected. Some are worse off than others, with people like you being particularly sensitive to the rush of hormones a Vampire’s bite releases.

Moreover, Kaeya rarely indulges in sex. Attractive as he may be, with many suitors ready and willing to rip the clothes off his body and give him the ride of a lifetime, the knight has always preferred to take care of his needs himself. Occasionally, he’ll seek the assistance of a young woman from the city, but even those little rendezvous are few and far between (and never do they entail drinking anyone’s blood.)

Ah, but you. . . There was something special, —something different about you in a way Kaeya couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d known that the moment you bared your neck to him, offering your blood in exchange for his silence mere moments after learning that Vampires aren’t just mythical creatures of legend. The once clever young woman he’d caught in his office, snooping around through his things, is now sitting on the floor with a pair of puncture wounds on her pretty throat, her eyes staring off at nothing in particular. Far off and dreamy, your legs squeeze together, seeking friction from the little twists your hips make.

Call it instinct or gentlemanly obligation, Kaeya felt it was only appropriate to clean up a mess he had more than a fair hand in creating, —so he gets down on a single knee beside you, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your eyes.

“You’ve got two options,” he says. “You can take care of. . . All this,” looking up and down your languid body, “—by yourself, or you can ask politely for help and apologize for rummaging around my office without permission. Which’ll it be, darling?”

Your insides ripple at the thought of it alone. It’s absolutely incredible what a Vampire’s bite can do to a lowly human being; one oh so susceptible to the want and need of it all in the fallout.

“I’m sorry,” you all but whimper, mustering up your best pair of puppy-dog eyes in hopes that it would hit any sweet spots the Cavalry Captain could have buried within.

Admittedly, he’s more intrigued by the glaze of lust that hangs over your stare.

“What was that?” He mocks, feigning ignorance as he rises to his feet and takes a few strides back. “I didn’t quite catch what you said there.”

You swallow, ignoring the bitter pricks of pain that have begun to jolt about along your neck.

“I’m sorry—”

“Wrong,” he interjects, clicking his tongue disapprovingly once again. “It’s basic manners to know that one should grovel on their knees when begging for forgiveness.”

The breath that follows his subtle command is shaky as it passes your lips. You give a quick nod before pulling your body forward, suddenly feeling much heavier than before without the weight of the wall to support you. Hands smoothing their way across the hardwood floor and knees trailing behind, you approach him like a scolded pet ready to beg for attention from your master after making a mistake.

“I shouldn’t have come into your office without permission,” you admit, attempting to tune out the incessant thrum of your arousal. “And I shouldn’t have touched your things without permission either.”

“Mhm,” he hums, reaching down to grab your chin.

Kaeya forces you to look up at him from your place just before the space between his long, slender legs.

“And?”

“And I’m very sorry that I did.”

You’re less sorry now than you were five minutes ago. Right now, the only thing you can manage to think about is the heat from the tips of his fingers scorching at your skin, —sending shockwaves through your body that you desperately need to feel alight inside you.

He smirks, a small scoff bursting forth as he studies your pretty face.

“You’re sorry?” He inquires sarcastically.

“Yes,” you reply in a small, needy voice, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“That so?” His hands fall away from your face to tug at his pants, allowing his half-hard cock to spring free. “Then go ahead and show me just how sorry you are.”

You glance between his sizable length and his one visible eye. Kaeya takes himself into a loose grip, before snapping another command as you move back to sit on your knees.

“Open that pretty mouth up and let me see your lying little tongue.”

He slaps the warm head against your exposed tongue once, twice, thrice, —then smoothes himself over the wetness, cock sliding with your saliva. It’s not long before he bores of this, however, instead ordering you to put in some extra effort.

“Put your lips around it,” he instructs, sighing softly in relief when you do as he says.

With your mouth suctioned loosely around him, you offer a few sloppy licks to the tip. His hand comes down to rest with the flat of his palm against the crown of your head, encouraging you to continue on; to take him in deeper and let him feel all the dips and grooves of your throat. As he relaxes into you, you go off script and follow the beat of your own drum, so to speak. Kaeya barely stifles a moan as you lick a solid stripe from the bottom of his shaft to the leaking tip of his cock.

“Look at me,” he says simply; to which you comply, staring up at him with the best doe-eyed stare you can muster up with a cock stuffed in your jowls.

Even as the effects of his bite wear off and your neck begins to ache, the lust remains hot and heavy, pooled deep within your gut. The burning embers are stoked further the moment you take him into your mouth again, wrapping your lips around his member before sinking down slowly. A tempo rises from the ashes, a sigh escapes past Kaeya’s lips, and you begin the melody: shallow and easy. As the pressure builds within you both, your sluggish, almost lazy movements become much more fervent, and Kaeya’s hand returns to the crown of your head once more. His long fingers press against your hair, the other cupping the side of your face, encouraging you onward.

You establish a steady rhythm, —one that wracks your lover to the core. Kaeya feels his insides quiver as you bob up and down on him, your mouth nearly ghosting the base of his long cock accompanied by tiny gags that leave your throat contracting around him. He gets louder, groaning and whispering filthy words, mumbling sweet nothings about how pretty you are when he’s buried in your maw. Still, the knight seems to be holding onto a small sliver of self-control; one that you’re determined to strip him bare of before this little escapade comes to a close.

The rest is nothing but messy enthusiasm. You feel him twitch against your tongue, only to solidly press your nose against his naval, swallowing around him to tip him over the edge. It works like a charm.

As you pull away, Kaeya leaves you with a mouthful of hot cum. It’s thick, mild in flavor, and all too easy to drink down.

You make a show of swallowing it, and then of wiping your bottom lip clean. He could likely cum again just watching you in the aftermath.

“Good,” he says simply.

Kaeya then removes his shirt and is halfway through stepping out of his pants before he stops to pause, glancing down at you as if to ask “what do you think you’re waiting for?” Suffice to say, you get the hint.

As you stand naked before him, Kaeya’s lips meet yours for the first time. He moves the both of you back until your ass is pressed to the wall again, offering you stability as he attacks your lips in bruising kisses and laps at the insides of your mouth with little care. He’s like a starved lion; fervent in every move he makes and all too desperate, but somehow composed enough to control the situation with ease.

“Turn around,” he growls against your lips, wasting little time in smoothing his lithe fingers over the plane of your shoulders.

His arm encircles your throat, pulling you close to him as he reaches out with the other hand, demanding that you spit into it. He uses your saliva to slick himself up, then presses your shoulders toward the wall, barely offering you any time to find your bearings before his fingers prod at your entrance.

“You’re dripping,” he laughs.

If you had enough humility in the moment to be embarrassed, maybe you would have been; —but this isn’t exactly the type of situation for that. Rather, you arch your back a little further, hoping it might offer him better access (and thus encourage him to fuck you faster.)

It works easily enough.

Kaeya pushes his saliva ridden cock inside your sopping cunt, presses further into your insides all the way to the hilt. He bottoms out, leaving you gasping as your pussy clenches around the thick of him. Maybe it’s all part of a Vampire’s impact; but you’re seeing stars even before he makes any attempt to move, viewing galaxies behind your fluttering eyelids as he digs his fingernails into your hip. Your head’s up in the clouds again. . .

“Fuck,” he groans, —and you love the breathless twinge that ghosts along your spine when his head falls closer to his chest.

It’s all too good the way your cunt moves around him, welcoming him deep inside. He thought your blood was good, —great—, but this is like stuffing his cock into the gates of Celestia itself. You’re obnoxiously proud of the way Kaeya loses himself inside you, as if abandoning his status as Cavalry Captain just to get a taste of what it’s like to be truly human.

He pulls out slowly, as if to tease you even in his blissed out state, before slamming back in with reckless abandon. It’s so intense that it makes your insides quake, —unbearably intense and much too pleasurable, perhaps in a masochistic sense of the word.

The tempo rises once again. It begins as something quick and frantic, but evolves into something much more desperate, sharper and harsher. The distinct sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, likely seeping from his office and into the halls; but you’re too lost in the moment to care, especially when Kaeya picks up the pace. When he angles his thrusts just right, hitting all the sweet spots inside you, the both of you are reduced to little more than loud moans and desperate pants.

The air inside his office is no longer tempered. It might as well have been suffocating, but even breathing itself seemed to pale in comparison as a necessity when pitted against the pounding of Kaeya’s cock.

A sob works its way up your throat, spilling past your lips excitedly. Your core is thrumming, pussy convulsing around him, —loving the way he fills you up as if his very life depends on it. His every move makes your body weaker by the second, pumping you full of adrenaline and ecstasy. It’s all so overwhelming in a way you simply cannot get enough of. You even love the way Kaeya leaves you struggling for breath, gasping for air in between the hammerings he offers right to your g-spot.

At the edge, Kaeya reaches between your legs to play with your neglected clit, and without warning sinks his fangs into your neck once more. This time, he drinks nothing more than what spills up to the surface, breathing heavily against the skin of your throat. You’re left trembling underneath him, eyes rolling back into your skull as ecstasy explodes from within. He leaves you mewling, cumming on and clenching around him.

It’s not long before Kaeya follows in suit, pulling out just in the nick of time to spill his seed along your ass. Your knees give way immediately, forcing you to the ground. It was, frankly, a miracle you’d been able to stand the entire time without collapsing before. His bite and the rippling impact of your orgasm have knocked all the wind from your sails, and you haven’t a clue how Kaeya is still standing tall after all of that.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, smoothing his hair back with a single hand, “—I’d say that apology suffices.”

You don’t even need to look his way to know that he’s got an annoying smirk plastered across his face.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader smut #kaeya alberich x reader smut #kaeya reader insert #genshin reader insert #kaeya reader insert smut #kaeya alberich reader insert smut #genshin impact reader insert smut #genshin reader insert smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut #kinktober

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nightingaletrash · 9 months

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Figured I'd write up some little summaries of Nem's friendships with her companions by the end of the game:

Lae'zel: they started out very much as an alliance of convenience with no real expectations of friendship or even mutual respect. Yet somehow, they've overcome the initial hostility, coming to respect each other's nerve and resolve, and have since become firm and loyal friends. They may never see each other again, as Lae'zel left Faerun to free her people from Vlaakith's rule, but they will make sure that no one could ever forget the role each of them played in the liberation of their homes from the so-called gods who crave them. Lae'zel's name will be told in song and story, and Nemeia's will be etched in slate. Their friendship will endure from Faerun to the Astral Sea.

Shadowheart: surprisingly, they warmed up to one another quite quickly despite the blatant secrecy and evasiveness on SH's behalf. And when the time came in the Shadowfell, it was Nemeia who SH listened to. And when she defied Shar, it was Nem who helped her to stay standing long enough to really process and accept what she'd done and what had been done to her. After the defeat of the Absolute, Shadowheart stayed with Nem the longest, as she still had to decide what came next. They're practically sisters now, and the bond they share runs deep.

Astarion: this friendship was a real slowburn, especially on Astarion's behalf. Nem accepted his vampirism with grace, allowed him to feed on her the first time, and she generally agreed to have his back, but she genuinely came to believe that he just didn't like her. It wasn't until act 2 that he stated otherwise; in reality he just didn't trust her to be capable of living up to her word. She's just too much of a reckless do-gooder and is vastly underestimating what Cazador is capable of. Yet as time goes on, he comes to believe that she might actually be someone worth putting his faith in. And in the end, she doesn't just save him from Cazador, she saves him from his own fear. She helps him break the cycle of abuse and helps him to be more than what he was made for. After he's forced to flee the sun, Nem is genuinely unsure if she'll ever see him again, but he shows up at the celebration after the sun goes down because he refuses to skip out on the party that he's more than earned. And he feels like he owes Nem a proper goodbye before he leaves.

Gale: these two get along like a house on fire from the get go, and it's thanks to him that Nem's view of Elminster takes a dip because how dare you tell my friend to kill himself on behalf of the goddess who could have helped him and chose not to. Still, they had their moments of friction whenever the Wizard Hubris started to show. Nem had to frequently talk him down from ideas of reforging the crown and dissuade him from the notion that he needs to be More to be worth something. While she still didn't believe that Gale ought to chase Mystra's forgiveness, she did encourage him to let her handle the crown because it was clearly a bad idea to leave it in the hands of mortals. After the Absolute's defeat, an agreement is settled upon: they have a bi-annual meet-up where they come to visit each other's homes and catch up. Tara still can't believe that Nem won't side with her on the matter of Gale's beard.

Wyll: another fast friend and one whom Nem was quick to offer her support to after his transformation at Mizora's hand. She tried to help him adjust to the change, offering him advice for dealing with the horns and trying to help him find foods that taste good. They've not made much progress on that front, but the effort is appreciated. Ultimately, Nem encouraged him to break his pact at the cost of his father because Mizora is toying with him and there might still be a chance to find his father without her help. And ultimately, she was right. They saved Duke Ravenguard without Mizora's help and Wyll was freed of his pact, leaving him free to decide his own fate as the Blade. They meet up for the occasional adventure, and Wyll knows that there's a place waiting for him when he needs a rest.

Karlach: oh boy. There were instant sparks there, and they got on super well from the start, so it was only a matter of time before they fell hard and fast for each other. They enjoyed each other's company and had each other's backs in every fight. Nem went out of her way to help fix Karlach's engine, and genuinely believed that they could find some way to fix it so that she could stay in Faerun and live a full life, filled with love and music and excitement. Even in the face of the inevitable, Nem kept picturing a life together with Karlach and refused to believe that there was no way out. So imagine the heartbreak when, right as they've won and defeated the Absolute, Karlach's engine finally gave out. Nem made sure that she got a headstone with her parents and makes sure to visit, but the thought of staying in the city is a bit too much for her. So she preserves Karlach's memory in every way she can - in stories and songs and art, so that no one can ever forget Karlach the Fearless. There's also a really mean goat named after her. It's what she'd want.

Halsin: considering that he was the first person who could actually offer any substantial help that wasn't a poison or a deal with a hag/devil, Halsin earned Nem's respect and friendship pretty early on. She actually pestered him about druidic practices too because all she ever knew about her own father was that he was a druid, and she wants some kind of connection. Then oops it turns out that Halsin is her father! There was definitely a spike of complicated emotions there, but they worked things out and talk about how they feel regarding the revelation, and they decided that they'd give this whole 'being family' thing a go. After the defeat of the Absolute and once she had sorted out her business in the city (such as Karlach's funeral), Nem joined Halsin in his new community for a time to get some distance from the city, heal from her grief, and to build a bond with her father.

Jaheira: the Cub and the Crow, that's them. Nem isn't much like Fianna at all - she's a fast talker who can talk someone into killing themself to spare herself the trouble of fighting them (and she's done exactly that. Multiple times!) - yet she still reminds Jaheira of her Bhaalspawn kid in her determination, her staunch belief in doing what's right, and her fierce loyalty to her friends. It wasn't hard for her to fall into the role of the motherly mentor (even if her brand of motherly is more sarcastic hardass than you'd expect). As for Nem, well, she likes to give Jaheira a hard time every now and then, but that's because the last legend she met told one of her friends to kill himself and this one threatened to kill her, so she's ready to push boundaries rather than fawn, and it turns out that Jaheira loves that shit. It's refreshing that she can take a few prods, and she has the exact kind of experience they need for taking on literal gods. Even after they go their separate ways, they stay in touch, and Nem has written a song about Jaheira that leans more into her being a prickly old woman than some legendary warrior. Jaheira prefers it to any of the other songs ever written about her, which means that all of her kids sing it whenever she comes home. Next time she sees Nem, she's grounded.

Minsc and Boo: Nem grew up in the Wide, so she's more than familiar with the stories of Minsc and Boo, and so she thought she was more than prepared for dealing with their quirks. As it is, the hamster is definitely the sensible one. Nem doesn't dislike Minsc in the slightest, but it'd be nice if he actually learned from his mistakes instead of trusting Jaheira to clean up his messes. But he's all in on stopping the Absolute, and he has his own strange brand of wisdom that is surprisingly insightful... but Boo is definitely the brains of the operation, make no mistake.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #nemeia #lae'zel #shadowheart #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #wyll ravenguard #karlach cliffgate #halsin #jaheira #minsc #boo

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #contemplative writing #vampire! geralt

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spoopy-fish-writes · 2 years

Note

sorry if there are too many letetr, you can split the ask in two sorry I forget you take only three words per rewuest, now to the most seriosu request can i ask something along the lines jeand and his s/o had an argument, and so his s/o went sleeping in her own room, but later that night a storm happened and she is scared of thunder so she seek solace in his room crawlingh in his bed near him? i hope you liek it otherwise i will change it have a nice day >:)

—Solace

Suitor(s): Jean

TW: Thunder storms, arguments, insecurity, self doubt

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Notes: Jean x Julie (requester's oc) || Aw, don't worry about the sfw alphabet ask, I've done the same thing once or twice myself 😅 || Have a nice day too dear and take care 💜 || I hope I managed to get Julie's character right but I might have gone a bit too hard on the fear of thunder...

Julie hated when she argued with Jean. That was probably when she was lowest, when even her own mind was against her.

Criticism after criticism plagued her mind as she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to focus as the argument ran through her mind again. What had it even been about? The fact that she couldn't remember only made her sink further into her mental pit of despair. To her, that meant that it was something irrelevant. Something small that they could have resolved if she weren't so stubborn.

She refused to even entertain the thought that it had been Jean's fault, or that maybe he was the one who had spurred on the argument. After all, she was the one who was refusing to sleep with him, currently bundled up in her bed. She had made the decision to avoid him even when he had shown that he held no ill will towards her despite what had happened that day.

She was too stubborn for someone as understanding as him. He deserved someone that wouldn't be so rash and be so petty and prideful. Not someone that would turn such an insignificant argument into something so big. Not after everything they had been though with each other.

They were vampires for god's sake! Was something so small really worth such a reaction? She didn't think so but perhaps that was just the dark cloud that floated in the back of her mind speaking. She wasn't sure but it was a crash of thunder, so sudden and splitting the silence that stopped her train of thought.

She jolted, immediately shooting up in bed. She had heard the rain earlier but she didn't think that it would get this bad. A storm and now of all times! The panic was already heavy in her mind and she didn't think twice as she tossed the covers off of herself and ran on shaky legs to Jean's room, the bang of her door slamming open in her panic surely having been heard in the mansion.

Green eyes became shiny with tears as she ran down the hallway, almost tripping over on multiple occasions in her haste.

Normally it wasn't this bad, she was more composed during thunderstorms, but her prior thoughts had only left her more desperate to be close to Jean and taken over her ability to think rationally.

She knocked rapidly on Jean's door, her knuckles quick against the wood as she mentally pleaded for him to hear her and open the door.

The door opened and she was greeted with Jean entering her vision but another crash of thunder and she threw herself into his arms.

She was crying, tears falling from her eyes and soaking Jean's shirt and chest as sobs wracked her body and she tripped into him tightly, trying to block out the noise of the thunder that shook the earth outside.

"Julie..!"

Jean froze for a second as his lover collapsed against him, her body trembling in fear. He was quick to wrap his arms around her and lead her into his room.

What-?

Another boom of thunder, louder this time, and the girl whimpered, a barely concealed yelp escaping her as she gripped his shirt tighter. Normally she would be extremely conscious of the fact that she was ruining his shirt but she was too far gone to take note of it.

Each strike of lightning which was soon followed by the bang of thunder only threw her deeper into her panicked state. She couldn't think, she couldn't speak; she could barely breath as each breath she attempted to take left her choked up.

She hated the thunder. Each crash in the sky shaking her to get very core, making her feel so vulnerable and weak. She couldn't even string a coherent sentence together, desperately gripping onto anything to keep her sane.

It was so loud; so, so loud as though it was drowning the entire world and she felt helpless but Jean felt perhaps even more so.

He could do nothing more than hold her close, hand brushing softly through her black hair as he attempted to get her comfortable. She would wear herself out eventually and she would need the sleep and, until then, he would hold her and comfort her, reminding her that he's there until her breaths evened out and the tears dried against her cheeks.

"Sleep, mon ange," he whispered as she began to drift out of consciousness. "I won't leave your side."

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#ikevamp jean x oc #ikevamp #ikemen vampire oc #ikevamp oc #ikevamp jean #angst with a happy ending #tw thunderstorms #tw arguing #tw insecurity #tw self doubt #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

Text

Oh, Loverboy: Part 7 (everyone x everyone, Star x Fem!Reader Centric)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: roasting Michael, slight angst, anxiety, vampire lore, canon divergence begins here folks, Michael canonically acts like a total dick in this scene so-

Word Count: 1.8k

"And don't tell me it doesn't make her a bad person, Mike!" The little boy yelled as he cowered under his covers. You stood there, staring at the brunette. The tension was thick, and all the adoration and kindness he'd held for you had left. You could see the apprehension in his eyes, and the anger mingling within it.

"Why did you let David take me there tonight, y/n?" He said, and you clicked your jaw. You could've guessed he would've been upset, but you didn't expect him to shift some of the blame onto you. It wasn’t like you had wanted to show him. And what other choice did you have? Cause a scene by arguing with David? Let him go without you?

"Who's David?" The little boy interrupted, and you shot him a look. One that made him clam his lips together and hide his face from you. Your eyes turned back to Michael, and you moved your fingers. You were trying to think of a way to explain, a way to ease the tension. The only thing you could think to say was,

"You wanted to go with them, Michael. What- What was I supposed to say?" But you were interrupted again, and you smelled her before you even heard her voice. You turned your head, just a fraction of a second before her voice rang out,

"Michael! Y/N!" And you swore under your breath. Part of you wondered if she even knew what had happened, but that didn't stop you from turning and hanging your head out the window. She stared up at you, worry clear in her eyes. "I have to talk to you and Michael! Can I come up?" She asked and you sighed. This is why you wanted them to turn. If she was fully one of you, she wouldn't be so out of the loop. But you pushed that argument off for another day and waved her up.

It only took her a second, and, by the time you'd turned around, she was by your side. You reached for her hand, holding it tight. It felt good to have her next to you, to have her hand in yours. Especially when Michael was going to be this way. Even if she might agree with him more than you liked.

"You know where they took me tonight. Don't you, Star?" Michael said, and you felt Star give your hand a squeeze before she was stepping closer. You didn't like that he was targeting her and you moved with her, just a step behind.

"Yes. It's my fault. If you hadn't met me, if I hadn't liked you." And you made a small noise and reached for her waist. It wasn't her fault, but you knew Star had a tendency to blame herself. To let others walk all over her. It wasn't like Michael hadn't followed you around the entire boardwalk. She turned to give you a look, and you didn't say a word. You turned your eyes back to Michael, and she continued, "We tried to warn you." She said, and that part was true. You'd tried to get David to let him leave, to let him go home. Star had even told him that it was blood.

"It was that night at the cave, wasn't it? That wasn't wine they gave me to drink. It was blood." And you gave him a look. It seemed he'd finally pieced it together. Took long enough, you thought. "It was David's blood." You were half tempted to correct him, to speak of your sire, but an earlier command made you bite your tongue. And the kid shrieked,

"You drank somebody's blood? Are you crazy?" And you nearly wanted to give the kid something to scream about. Still, Michael had seen that you'd wanted to speak, and he stared at you. You were too busy looking at the girl besides you, who's eyes had cast down to the floor. You saw the look in her eyes, the regret on her face. You could already imagine what she must've been telling herself.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" He snarked, his eyes trained on you. And that was it. Any resolve you had snapped. Your eyes flicked to him and you took a step forward, passing the girl next to you.

"I know you're upset. I know you're hungry. I know you want someone to chew on." Your words were hard and heavy. Heavy enough to even silence the boy cowering in the corner, and especially the boy standing in front of you. Michael watched you come closer, seeming to lose a little bit of his hot air as you came closer. As if he was remembering what you'd done less than an hour before. You took a step with end of your words, until you were only a few inches from him. "But, it's not gonna be me, and it's not gonna be Star. Got that, loverboy? You followed us the first night, you came with us to the cave, and you drank from the bottle." You punctuated your words with a hard jab to his chest each time, your eyes flickering yellow as you stared into his baby blues. "We're not the ones that tricked you, and we're not the ones that have been hazing you. I went there tonight to watch out for you and I came here to make sure you were okay, because I care about you and so does Star." You gestured to yourself and then to the girl behind you. "So, cut the attitude or you're on your own, loverboy. And trust me, our kind doesn't last long by themselves." The threat lingered in the air, and you watched as Michael clicked his jaw. He smiled for a moment, before looking away and lightly shaking his head. But he exchanged whatever smart remark he had for,

"So, what? I'm just like you and David now?" He asked, and you frowned. His voice had cracked, and his face had changed. A sliver of fear, of distraught, had poked through. You didn't like how he said it. How he seemed to think that this was a bad thing. You looked away for a moment, and Star spoke up behind you,

"No, you're not. You're like Laddie and me. We're not like them until-" But it seemed the kid had no problem cutting off Star.

"Until you make your first kill!" And the three of you were silent. Michael stared at the both of you, but you could feel the weight of his eyes gravitate towards you. You'd never felt like the odd man out before. You had your place, you belonged to the coven. But, now? Surrounded by humans and halfs? You gulped and shifted your feet. You felt Stars hand slide into yours, and you tightened your fingers around her. Michaels voice shook as he asked,

"Why didn't you two kill me last night?" And you stared at him. You were almost shocked that he'd even asked, and the words were leaving your mouth before you could even think about them.

"Because you're one of us, Michael. We would never let anything happen to you." And Michael laughed, like what you said had to be a joke. But it was the truth. Even if the boys hazed him, Michael was one of you. And covens protected their own. You frowned, your eyes quick to turn into a glare. Before you could snap at him again, he said,

"One of you? Why am I even one of you? Why didn't you kill me the first night?" You paused. You had to admit, that was a good question. It was something you'd started to wonder yourself. You looked over at Star. Her mouth opened, but she hesitated. As if she didn't know what to say. And, as you watched the water pool in her eyes, you decided to break a rule. One that you were sure that would bite you later on.

"I think- I think it had to do with my dad." You started, and you watched as confusion took over Michaels features. He seemed to forget all about that awkward first meeting, and you didn't necessarily blame him. After the feeding, you were sure he wasn't thinking about much else. "He- The boys don't just turn anyone. It's a big, big, decision. Usually. But they," You trailed off. You remembered that night, how you'd gotten a bad feeling. You were starting to feel the same one now. "David talked to my dad that night. They told me to go inside. I thought it was just- y'know, coven stuff. But-" Your eyes were flicking between different spots on Michaels chest, before they flicked up to his eyes. His clear, baby blue eyes. A thought occurred to you then. A thought that made the bad feeling crawl into your throat, as if to stop whatever words were threatening to spill out. "I think my dad told David to turn you."

"Your dad?" Star asked, in just a whisper, but you didn't pay her any mind more than a simple nod. You were trying to piece this together, trying to find an explanation.

"Max." You said emptily into the open air, and the word stung your tongue. Of course, Star knew. She had to. She knew what you were, she had to know what your dad was. Even if he'd tried to keep it from her as long as possible. And Michael knew. He'd met him. So why did it feel like you were disobeying him?

"But he passed the test!" Sam exclaimed, and you turned your eyes towards him then. He'd been so quiet that you'd forgot that he was there. Your own eyes filled with confusion. Test? He seemed to shrink away from your gaze as you finally put together what he'd been saying. How he knew the things he did. He'd known you were one of "them", known about the first kill, and now he was testing your dad? You realized then that you were staring into the face of a baby hunter, and your hand gripped Stars tighter as panic spiked up your spine.

"What tests? What tests, Sam?" Michael asked his brother, and you watched as the little boy pushed himself up. You nearly shrunk back, stepping towards the wall. Blocking the girl next to you half-way from view. The urge to flee filled you as the little boy, now known as Sam, rattled off a series of tests,

"Garlic, water- He even had a reflection!" And you scoffed impulsively. Garlic didn't even work, regular water didn't burn, but a reflection? While that was tricky, it was an easy fix. Before you could stop yourself, you said,

"Well, someone invited him in." And you realized a moment too late that maybe you shouldn't have said that.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #star the lost boys #the lost boys star #sam the lost boys #the lost boys sam #michael the lost boys #the lost boys michael

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alj4890 · 3 years

Text

I have a few things I’m still working on. This weekend I had planned to write and post more, yet a family emergency completely destroyed that notion. Here’s some (longer than usual) peeks into what I’ve been creating in case anyone is interested. I will be posting the next chapter to And The I Left You within the next couple of days. That series will be wrapping up soon and I’ll be posting for these next ones along with requests and such. The three I’m sharing are the Dark TRR AU All Through the Night, The Thomas Hunt Worth the Wait What If AU to this series, and my first Open Heart series, Mixed Signals

Tagging those who might want to see what’s coming next 😉

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms @sophxwithers @flyawayboo @trappedinfanfiction

All Through the Night

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah!” Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

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

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

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

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

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

Worth the Wait (RCD/TRR What If AU)

Amanda grimaced once more over her swollen eyes. Thank goodness she had gone with waterproof eye makeup. At least she only looked swollen instead of a puffy eyed racoon.

Her stomach gurgled when Thomas opened the door.

She hid her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I've not eaten since I threw up a muffin this morning."

He couldn't help but smile at her embarrassment. "You don't have to worry about what I think when that happens.

When she lifted her head, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"You've been crying." He gently took her face in his hands.

"Hormones." She wondered how she was able to say such a falsehood so easily.

His hands lingered, thumbs brushing her cheeks, then dropped to his sides. "I should forewarn you. Rachel and Stephen are here."

Amanda stepped back, nearly falling backwards off his front stoop.

Thomas caught her in his arms, turning them both until she was safely between him and a wall.

"Are you all right?" He could feel her heart thumping against his chest.

She nodded. "Just caught off guard." Biting her lip, she lifted her eyes to his. "Did you tell them about," she gestured toward her belly.

"I did."

"And?"

"And they are thrilled with the knowledge that they will have a niece or nephew before the year is through.”

Amanda finally asked the question that was really bothering her. “Do they, of course they must, but do they hate me too much for my,” she took a deep breath, “for ending things between us?”

If Thomas was to go with how his sister had not only readily jumped into planning a wedding for them as well as becoming angry over his not proposing to Amanda yet, he seriously doubted she held anything against his ex.

“They don’t hate you at all.” He kept an arm around her waist. “Come inside.”

Leaning a bit closer than necessary to him for comfort, she allowed him to lead her to his living room.

Rachel jumped up and hugged her, pushing her brother out of the way. “I’m so excited!”

Amanda laughed when Stephen thanked her for getting pregnant.

“Now Rach will stop pestering me about getting a puppy or kitten. All her time will be spent in preparation of becoming an aunt.”

“We will get one of those if my niece or nephew wants one.” Rachel snapped at him.

She ignored his teasing grin and focused on Amanda. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She lied.

“She suffers with severe morning sickness.” Thomas corrected.

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Who is taking care of you?”

“Me.” Amanda said with a laugh that wasn’t quite sincere. “Servants, occasionally my friends, and of course Thomas when we are together.”

Rachel glared at her brother. “She needs help all the time.”

He glared back, knowing she was heavily hinting that they should get married.

“I’ll be fine. Hopefully by my next appointment it will have lessened.” Amanda said, wondering at their sudden irritation.

“And if it doesn’t?” Rachel continued to stare Thomas down.

“Then I’ll do what I have been doing.” Amanda shrugged. “I really don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

She moved away from them to sit down.

“Some people have a choice.” Rachel muttered where only Thomas could hear.

Ignoring her, he asked Amanda what she felt like eating.

“I’m not sure. This baby and I have very different views on what I should eat." She tried to joke.

He had to stop himself from brushing her hair back from her face. That lopsided grin of hers had a way of making him feel the need to comfort her.

"I was thinking of taking you to The Palm for dinner."

Her surprise made him smile. It used to be one of their favorite places to eat. Thomas hadn't been there since they broke up. For some reason, he had gone ahead and made a reservation for them.

"The Palm?" Rachel leaned forward. "What kind of food do they have."

"Italian." Amanda smiled at him. "I have had a craving for tomatoes recently."

"Then hopefully you'll be able to enjoy a meal for a change."

"We'll go to the guest house and get cleaned up." Rachel tugged Stephen up out of his chair. "What time should we be ready?"

"You have thirty minutes." Thomas warned.

"Thirty?!" Rachel dashed out.

Stephen chuckled. "How long do we really have?"

"Forty-five minutes." Thomas replied. "But I know my sister and if i say forty-five, she'll take an hour or more."

Stephen snorted in amusement. "Yes, she will."

Once they were alone, Thomas sat down across from Amanda.

"The Palm." Her smile dimmed some over the memories of romantic evenings spent at that particular establishment. "I can't remember the last time we had dinner there."

"November." Thomas fought squirming when she looked up in surprise once more.

"I'm looking forward to it." Amanda said to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between him.

"So am I." He got up to get something to drink. He offered to get her something just to have something to do.

He could feel her eyes following him out of his living room. When he was out of eyesight he pinched the bridge of his nose. He still didn't know if he could risk his heart again. He knew she was leaving soon and that things between them were up in the air.

And he was wanting to settle once more into how they once were.

But then that would bring up whether or not they should go ahead and marry.

Should we? If it doesn't work out, how much more will it hurt to walk away from her and our child? To break the life I once dreamed of having with her...should I really jump into it without seeing if it's worth the chance?

He didn't know. He knew his fear was keeping him from so much. Yet...hadn't his fear kept him from horrible decisions in the past?

Or had it kept him from something great?

He prepared her a glass of ginger ale and brought it to her.

He grasped on the topic of what she planned to do once back in Cordonia while he debated on what to do.

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

Mixed Signals (Open Heart AU) exert

A few minutes later, Bryce motioned for her to follow him to the cafeteria. It was for the most part empty, save for a couple of doctors grabbing a late lunch.

"You want anything?" He asked.

"No thanks." She sat down at a table while he went to get a snack.

He grinned as he sat down across from her. "Here." He pushed a bag of peanuts toward her. "You should eat something."

Her nose wrinkled. "I haven't really got my appetite back yet."

She noticed the concern in his eyes so like her roommates' and knew she would have to force down some of it just to make it stop.

"So?" She tried not to gag on what once was her favorite go to snack. "How have you been?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He bit into a burger. "I mean," he said between bites, "of the two of us, you've been the patient."

"Yeah." She slumped some in her seat. "I wasn't too sick to talk on the phone though." Her eyes narrowed somewhat on his. "Or have visitors."

Bryce winced. "Sorry about that, Chris. I guess I didn't know what to say or do?"

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed more.

How often had she stressed to him within the past year that he was important to her, that she wanted to be with him. Then when he wouldn't say he wanted that too and reverted back to calling her a friend, she gave in to trying something with Ethan.

Only for both men to keep her on a yoyo string to pull back and forth whenever they needed her.

What do I see in them to keep swallowing my pride and allowing them to basically use me for sex whenever they want?

Chris was fed up. The longer Bryce stammered about his busy schedule and not wanting to disturb her rest, the more she wanted to chunk the peanuts at his stupid, much too handsome face.

She didn't even want the damn things. Might as well use them as a quick release to her frustration.

Her fingers curled around the bag. Her bicep tightened in preparation to throw them, when Sienna walked up.

Her friend's excited hug and squeals of seeing her at work again were what saved Bryce's overly confident face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?!" Sienna sat down next to her. "I would have made celebration pancakes this morning!"

Chris couldn't stop from smiling. She could always depend on Sienna's sweetness to boost her mood.

"I didn't really decide until you had left for work. Then Farley came by to check on me and he wasn't feeling too good..."

She continued to tell her about his diagnosis of lime disease.

"Hate to break this up, but I have to get ready for surgery." Bryce smiled at them both. "Take it easy, Valentine. I don't want to have to operate on you next."

Chris bit back a bitter retort that he better hope she needed surgery. It would be his only chance to catch her naked again.

"Meet us at Donahue's later!" Sienna shouted. "We will celebrate Chris being back."

"There's no need." Chris began.

"Yes, there is!" Sienna squeezed another hug out of her. "My best friend is back with us and I'm over the moon about it!"

Bryce smirked at her. "She's right. We have to celebrate our friend's return."

Our friend. Chris despised the word, friend. Why did she keep placing her hope on him seeing her as something more than a mere friend?

And to make things worse, Ethan walked past.

"Dr. Ramsey!" Sienna called out before Chris could stop her. "Come have a drink with us tonight in honor of Chris's return!"

Ethan hesitated. That action nearly earned him peanuts in his much too handsome face too.

Gawd, I hate that look. The sad, yearning eyes. The slight frown. Man up and either say you want to date me or leave me alone for good! This back and forth is killing me worse than the poison did.

"Where at?" Ethan finally asked.

"Donahue's." Sienna beamed when he said he would try and stop by on his way home.

Chris mumbled a goodbye as Bryce left and Ethan headed off to find something to eat.

"Who else should we invite? I know Rafe is still too sick to get out." Sienna tapped her fingers on the table while scrolling through her contacts. "We can invite the rest of the diagnostic team and Ines and--"

"I'll send an invite to Tobias." Chris decided.

"Tobias? Who's...oh!" Sienna's eyes widened. "Dr. Carrick, right?"

"Yeah." Chris sent a text to him before she could think too much about it. "He did rush over with Aurora to try and save my life."

"I thought he was the enemy?" Sienna whispered while her eyes cut to Ethan. "Don't they have bad blood between them?"

"Something like that." Chris grumbled. "They can get over it."

Her phone vibrated with Tobias's response.

You want me to come deep into Edenbrook territory for a drink?

She snorted while answering.

Too scared, huh? And here I was longing for your company.

Well hell, Chris. I've never been able to refuse someone longing for my company. I'll be there. Just make sure no one sticks a scalpel in my back.

Don't worry. I'll protect you.

My hero.

Sienna leaned over, her eyes growing larger with each of their responses.

"Oh my gosh! You like Tobias!"

Chris's smile disappeared. "I don't hate him. But like like him? No."

"You're flirting in your texts!" Sienna giggled. "That is so cute. I haven't see you like this since our first year with--" she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Uh huh." Chris pushed her chair back. "Anyway, I'll see you after work." She patted her friend's shoulder as she walked away. "Don't worry, I'm not upset with you over the name you almost said."

"Yeah, but." Sienna chased after her. "There is also another person who is interested in you."

"If you mean the one I think, then no. He made it perfectly clear this morning that we can't."

"No!" Sienna wrapped a comforting arm around Chris. "Why not?"

"He's still my boss." Chris mumbled. "And he won't abuse that. No matter how often he gives in to temptation."

"I think he's in love with you." Sienna whispered.

"Not enough to be with me." Chris grumbled.

#choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices open heart #sneak peek #upcoming series #choices fanfiction #rcd thomas hunt #trr liam #oh ethan ramsey #oh bryce lahela #oh tobias carrick

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missysvault · 4 years

Text

Playing with Food

Summary: “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” It’s Halloween and you want to watch your cheesy movie marathon in peace. Missy has other ideas.

Warnings: NSFW. Blood is mentioned, it’s present in a sexy way, but also serves a functional purpose on account of Missy being a blood-sucking creature, MIHOW

Word Count: 2970

A/N: Yes I know it’s mid-November.. Yes you’re still getting this vaguely October themed fic, I just wanted to write Missy as a vampire

The TARDIS should not be as dark as it was. Usually it was well-lit and easy to navigate, sympathetic to your poor sense of direction. Tonight though it wound endlessly and you were sure you were lost; you hoped someone would find you before you got in too deep. “Poppet, what are you up to all the way back here?” So this was her fault. The tone of Missy’s voice told you there was no way she’d just innocently come across you. Sometimes when she wanted a captive audience she’d get you so disoriented you had to rely on her to get back to a familiar area- it happened at least once a month.

“If you wanted to play hide and seek, I would’ve liked to be told first.” You turned to face her, but she was much closer than expected and you stumbled back against one of the many doors on the wall. She was on you in a second, arms boxing you in on either side; you were a little taller than her, but she was by far stronger. Missy had you in her grasp as soon as she’d laid eyes on you. Her teeth shone in the dark hallway, just barely reflected with the wall-mounted candlelight. Of course, she’d bother you on Halloween with her hunger, how appropriate. “Moreso, just ask if you want to bite me.”

Missy’s face dropping into an exaggerated frown, making a disappointed noise. “Oh you’re no fun. Fine, let me bite you.” She said it matter-of-factly, not even bothering to make it sound like a request. If she was quick with it, you wouldn’t have minded, but theatrical as she was, Missy was determined to always make a long show of it and tonight, for once, you had plans.

“No, Missy, I’m busy.” There was a movie marathon calling your name tonight and being late was not on the agenda. In a moment of boldness, you tried to escape her cage, but to no avail. One strong hand shoved you brutally back into the door, the heel of her palm digging into your abdomen with so much force you knew she was bruising you. “That hurts-“

“And being rejected hurts. We’re in the same boat.” She was being a child, most likely because she hadn’t eaten in a while. She did look a little bit more pale than normal, but her strength was clearly still present so it couldn’t be too bad, still enough to make her irritable. “I am letting you live here even though you’re no help to me,” Missy stepped forward, pressing her body to yours and sandwiching you between her and the door, “The least you could do is help me once in a while.” Her fingers ran over your neck, checking your pulse, all the while staring deep into your hesitant eyes. How dangerous she looked shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was and yet...

You sighed, trying to play off much cooler than you were. She’d never hurt you out of malice, but what she was capable of always stuck in your mind whenever the two of you butt heads. “We both know that’s untrue.” Missy wouldn’t let you touch anything critical without supervision if you’d tried, but she enjoyed your presence and so did the TARDIS. She was the one to ask you to stay. “Would you like to come watch cheesy 80’s Halloween movies with me, Missy?” Maybe you could distract her long enough to get through a film or two if you held out long enough. Your arms wound around her waist despite her hand still painfully pinning you to the closed door; sometimes a hug softened her for a short moment. The bared teeth grin on her face no longer scared you for things such as this; she had the complex of a small dog.

“What I would like is to mark up that pretty neck of yours.” Missy’s gaze fixed to your throat, seemingly entranced, slowly moving forward until her mouth was at the base of your neck. Her tongue marked out the exact spot she sought to feast on, she did bite, digging into your skin until you were whimpering, helplessly caught between her and the door, but you never felt the sharpest of her teeth. “I could've been done by now.”

“You wouldn’t unless I say you can,” you wheezed, clinging to whatever resolve you had left. Determined as she was, she’d bide her time until you gave into her willingly. It tastes infinitely sweeter that way, Missy always claimed. You didn’t know if that were true, but it certainly gave you some leeway in persuading her to wait.

Missy pulled away, her face still too close to be read properly, but the challenge was clear on her face, “Yes I would.” This back and forth game amused you; maybe you could have more fun than just your traditional movie night alone. It was Halloween after all, some new entertainment would be a treat. Missy faltered for a split second and you gave one good push back against her and thankfully, her hand eased long enough for you to move more freely.

“No, Miss, you wouldn’t.” Hand fully out of your stomach, you pushed off of the wall with Missy still in your grasp. With a small kiss pressed into her hair, you released her and took a few steps backwards down the hallway until you were a safe distance away, not daring to break eye contact with her. “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” You were being braver than usual and you didn’t know why, perhaps the late hour made you more ambivalent to Missy’s threats, but why she was letting you get away with it was a bigger mystery. One thing you loved about Missy is how plain emotions read on her face. It took awhile for her to open up to you in such a way, but now you could read her like a book and when her expression mellowed from irate to complacent, you knew you had her for at least a bit. “Is it a movie then?” She stalked past you without a word and you followed, knowing she’d find your room faster than you could.

You only expected to watch one movie with her; she wasn’t obligated to watch an entire marathon deep into the night, especially with how harshly she judged them. “Why is she running towards the lake?” You sighed and slumped down, resting your head on her chest. Missy was nice enough to insist you lay on her while you two binged the constant stream of cheesy 80s horror and you certainly weren’t one to ever protest that.

“Why are you still watching if you’re so upset?” It wasn’t that the movies were good, per se, but they were in season and you watched them every year, just for tradition. Usually it was a solo activity, free from criticism, but this year you’d spent more and more time with Missy and after your latest harrowing adventure, she’d convinced you to stay aboard the TARDIS with her a while longer and before you knew it, October was upon you. You’d missed out on a lot of things this year for her, but this was one event you could still enjoy and you thought sharing this with her might be nice. “No one’s forcing you here.”

Missy groaned, her head hitting the headboard as it fell backwards. “I can’t spend time with my little human? I didn’t know how badly you wanted me gone.” Her hurt voice made you wary, of course you wanted her around. Hardheaded as she could be, you did love her.

“It’s not that, Miss, I just… watching these every year means a lot to me.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to the arm she’d draped over your chest hours ago, patting her soft skin lazily with a gentle hand. “I am enjoying watching them with you though, no matter how much you say you hate them.”

Missy huffed, but pulled you into her nonetheless, kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I don’t despise them…but they are taking your attention away from me.” She nuzzled her nose into your hair, calm and sweet as opposed to the young teens being slashed at on screen. Missy would never say it, but spending time with someone else was a big reason she’d asked you to stay; you’d heard her talking to the Doctor about how lonely travel could get, especially when gone for long stretches of time. You’d missed her when she set off for what was supposed to be quick, but ended up as five months and when she asked you to come with her again, you did, not wanting to chance losing her again. Watching dated horror movies wasn’t together wasn’t top on the list of things you’d expected to do while aboard, but you wouldn’t complain.

Once the third movie started though, it seemed all bets were off. It was innocent cuddling at first, giving you gentle squeezes every once in a while and whispering funny Jason Vorhees jokes into your ear whenever the film tried to be too dramatic, but she had ulterior motives. Once she judged your guard lowered enough, Missy slid her hand over your inner thigh, rubbing in small circles with her thumb in a way she knew all too well you had a weakness for. This was her game; she’d waited for hours until you were sleepy, effectively weakened from laying securely in her arms all evening, poised and ready for the perfect time to strike- and you’d fallen right into it. Asking her to sit through a movie she had no interest in, why would she ever agree. No, she was interested in you or really, what you could provide for her. The hand not poised for attack at your hips now held your upper body securely against her where it had once been a lazy, comforting hold and as you tried to push yourself up and wiggle away, you realized you were effectively caught. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a funeral, my darling.” Her mouth still rested behind the shell of your ear and you could feel her predatory grin as she slipped past the stretchy waistband of your loose sweatpants. “Now, I’ve indulged you in your little Halloween fun, I think it’s my turn now, don’t you?” Mostly you were mad at yourself for falling into yet another one of her traps; you thought you’d diverted her, maybe that she’d given in and that was your fault. It was all you could do to try and focus on the television, but even there teens were hiding away in a barn to make out despite the murderer still on the loose. “Maybe if I take you out to a secluded lake like them, I could have you all to myself. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You rolled your eyes noncommittally, much too distracted with how she was bunching your shirt into her hand, exposing your nipples to the cold air. “No, you only have me on a spaceship floating throughout the galaxy, too many other people to daydream about here.” Missy would drop you off in the middle of nowhere just to keep you to herself and the concept was way too appealing.

“And yet you wouldn’t give me what I wanted,” she tsked, grabbing at your breast and rolling the tight bud under the cool pad of her thumb. “How disappointing.” It was awful really, how quickly and efficiently Missy could manipulate you like you were her own treasured piano. Your friends, Bill especially, would laugh if they saw how easily you folded for someone you were so heavily warned about, but it was worth it. “And here I thought you’d be my good girl.”

“Missy-” She cut you off with a tug on the ear with her teeth, making you hiss. Movie all but forgotten, you wiggled under her, trying to shift your hips against her fingers to no avail, whimpering to an unsympathetic ear. She pinched hard at your flesh as a warning and you stopped squirming immediately. “Please? I’ll be good, promise.” You tilted your head to lock eyes with her, pleading silently for her to finally touch you properly and meeting only a borderline sadistic smile, you knew all was going according to her plan.

Her fingers went wandering down your abdomen, a gentle touch turned harsh as she scratched her blunt nails back up, leaving bright red lines and spotty drops of blood in their wake. “Pleasee, I’ll be good, promise.” Missy was mocking you, taunting your change of tune from earlier that evening; she did that when she was particularly unforgiving, mocked you for giving into her. “You, dear girl, are lucky that I’m so nice.” Not the word you’d use to describe being lured into a trap with short-term domestic bliss, but nevertheless, you shuddered when she grabbed you through your underwear and as hard as you thought about putting up a fight, the idea of just melting into Missy and letting her take you over for however long she wanted was so hard to resist. So you didn’t. “Open up for your mistress, dear.”

You did as she said, parting your legs to a sugar laced that’s a good pet that had you wetter than you’d ever admit and lithe finger slid past elastic fabric and over slick folds. “Don’t you ever get tired of getting exactly what you want?” It didn’t sound nearly as daring as you’d like, but it was all you could manage. A singular sure fingertip circled around your clit, teasing until your thighs twitched for her.

“Hmm..” Missy pondered, tapping her fingertips against you as you thought, “nope!” She slammed into you, two fingers deep, giggling at your surprised yelp as she stretched you with her curling digits. “Quite love it this way.” You bent your knees, planting your feet into the mattress for any kind of purchase against the sudden rapid assault below. There was no need for teasing tonight; Missy had you where she needed, now she wanted you riled and wanton, begging for her as soon as humanly possible and it wouldn’t take her long at all.

In a matter of moments you were breathless, on the verge of collapse, clinging to Missy’s legs on either side of you, aching for her presence to ground you even as she mercilessly thrust into you. “Missy, I am begging you, just please-“ She expertly wrenched every moan and cry you could offer her, reveling in the power she held over you, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Ooh, desperate now, are we?” Soft lips grazed over your neck, calm and cool where your blood pumped hot and fast, trying desperately to keep up. “Let me taste you and I’ll give you whatever you could possibly want.” You knew you were going to let her; it was a matter of when instead of if, especially as she held your orgasm in her hands. There was a pain that came with it, you knew from experience, but it was worth it for the thrill that came right after. Missy didn’t bite you often for your own good, she didn’t need to anyways, but when she wanted to, well, she always found a way. “I’ll clean up after, no mess this time.” Occasionally she left you bloody simply for the aesthetic of it all and you complained of ruined clothes and sheets, but honestly tonight you didn’t care either way.

Your nod was barely there, easily could’ve been mistaken for just a twitch, but she understood. With a reverent kiss over the hickey she’d made in the hallway hours before, sharp fangs pressed into the thin skin of your neck, piercing with the swift accuracy of a needle. It hurt just like you remembered, but Missy was shushing you before you could cry out, cupping your head with her free hand, thumb brushing over your flushed cheek as an implied I love you while she held you close against her mouth. You were coming before you realized, overwhelmed with the combined rush of endorphins from her bite and the orgasm she tore mercilessly from your body. It should be impossible to feel this blissful, possessed, and so deeply wanted at the same time and yet… You made a passing note to your future self that you didn’t know why you ever resisted this at all- but then you realized she was forever intent on taking every ounce she could from you before you passed out. “You’re going to kill me…”

She would never, not really. The first time you agreed, you were sure she’d quite literally bleed you dry, but she was careful, always in tune to when you’d given enough. Missy pulled away as you came down from your high, the dreaded sting on your neck promptly soothed over by her wet tongue. “Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. I could do a lot more.” And she could, but she loved you and you amused her so she wouldn’t. If you had more control you’d reach to kiss those blood red lips, but you felt akin to a pile of jelly and it was all you could do to hazily smile in her general direction. Thankfully, Missy was aware how ‘lovey’ you could be and pressed her lips to yours, granting you a purposely messy kiss. You could feel her grin before she pulled back, fingers also slipping from you and placing them on your lips. She tapped your wet, parted lips until you let her in, sucking on instinct. “Be a good girl and suck, maybe I’ll let you come again.”

#missy x reader #missy/reader #gomez!master x reader #doctor who imagine #the master x reader #yes hi hello I've written this and it's my first published reader fic #soooo #my fic.

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

or set your teeth against my throat (1)

warnings: vampires, blood, injury, violence, abduction, non consensual blood drinking, depressive thoughts, mild hypnosis, murder mention

Vampires, Roman was finding, seemed to have an even more shit sense of hospitality than he’d previously assumed.

Maybe it was ungenerous of him, considering this was the only coven he’d interacted with up close and personal, but he wasn’t really feeling particularly generous at the moment. When he’d been cornered, isolated from the rest of his pack, he’d expected a quick and valorous death, fighting to the last. Not… this.

Another rock made contact with the bars of his cage, the clang of stone on metal vibrating around him. His ears twitched down to flatten against his skull without his input, and he snarled low in his throat as a jeering laugh rose from the crowd.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, being taken hostage for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind, bound and muzzled like some common animal, no, they had to parade him through the streets and batter his cage with pebbles and glass and whatever other projectiles the bloodsuckers thought fitting to torment their captive audience with.

None of it could get through the enchantment on the bars, so he wasn't struck, but it was still rough on the ears. And his feelings.

Not that they cared. That was probably the point, actually.

Gathering his resolve, he forced himself to remain still and unflinching as another shard of rock hit the cage and spun away, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. None of this mattered. It didn’t matter what they did to him, because he would not break. He wouldn’t tell them a single thing about his pack, not one scrap of information.

He would die first, and without regrets.

As it turned out, the coven-- Kin of Æternam, they called themselves-- didn’t seem to care for information. Not a single vampire spoke to him as he was moved further and further into the town, and he couldn’t exactly initiate a conversation himself with a gag in his mouth.

Instead, he watched, and found to no surprise that he didn’t like what he saw.

He’d known many vampires were nomadic, but it was one thing to distantly know and another thing entirely to see the human town around them, half the houses smoldering and the other half looking uncomfortably ransacked. He could see the dark splatters of dried blood along walls or among the dirt, though mercifully it seemed like it had been long enough since their invasion that any remaining human bodies had been cleared away.

Roman didn’t risk interacting with humans often. He knew the tales that were spread about werewolves, and the last thing his tiny pack needed was an angry mob on their tails. Even with his reservations, though, he would never wish something like this upon them. Upon anyone.

The Æternam vamps walked among the ruins casually, as though this was everyday scenery, and Roman supposed that for them, it probably was. Simple routine; find a human settlement, feed to their unbeating hearts’ content, hold revel, and then depart again. Rinse and repeat.

It was enough to turn his stomach, and he was almost grateful when his view of the town was blocked off by their entry into the large stone fort that loomed over all else. Almost.

His opinion of the place went downhill as soon as he saw the ostentatious throne and the vampire sprawled across it, both placed on a literal gilded pedestal. Dark raven hair, corpse-like skin, and glowing red eyes painted the picture of the archetypal tyrant vamp. He found himself strangely disappointed by the lack of originality in the man’s presentation. If he was going to die to a bloodsucker, couldn’t it at least be one with a sense of style?

One of the attendant vamps pulled the door of his prison open, and Roman lunged against his restraints with all his might, snarling past the muzzle. The attendant flinched back, but the iron cuffs that bound him held firm no matter how hard he strained. The vampire on the throne laughed, the way one might at a child throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, you are a spitfire, aren’t you? All the better.”

Roman tried to convey how much this guy’s villain aesthetic sucked with his heated glare alone. He was pretty sure Virgil could have created a better evil persona than this guy in his sleep. At age twelve. While feverish. It was sad, really.

The platitudinous prick-- Roman instantly decided to alternate between very clever and very rude nicknames for the guy in his head-- beckoned, and the attendant unlocked the chain keeping him bolted to the floor of the cage. They proceeded to grab the connecting bar between the cuffs locked around his arms and maneuver him up the steps to the pedestal with probably more force than strictly necessary.

Roman had been riding in that cage for hours, and as such, had time to prepare for a lot of potential scenarios. He grew more and more tense the closer he got to the trite enthroned bastard, mentally readying himself for what was likely to be at best an assault on his person and at worst, a horrifying and gory death.

Instead, he was steered to the side of the throne, and then shoved to his knees, at which point he realized that a horrifying and gory death might not be so bad after all. Because now the attendant was locking his cuffs into a new platform, one that was designed to force him to stay hunched over and kneeling at the side of the throne. He growled, prying at the restraints, but there was little give in the cuffs. He was stuck like this, practically on display for the world to see.

“Perfect, right where a mutt like you belongs,” Vlad the Contemptible smiled sharply, as though proud of his pitiful insult.

Were all vampires this insufferably smug? Like, was it part of the package, along with the dumb looking fangs and the tacky glowing eyes? He was glad that werewolves had eyes that merely reflected light, like the respectable, well-designed creatures of nature they were.

It was possible that Roman was rambling, mentally, a little bit. He wished desperately that he could protest the indignity of it all, denounce these freaks and their humiliating tactics, but in this state, there was little he could do but glare impotently.

The bloodsucker seemed entirely too content to ignore him and his glaring hatred entirely for the next few hours, which confused Roman at first. Clearly, he was still alive for a reason, and he felt as though he’d done more than enough waiting to learn about his fate at this point. Plus, his knees hurt.

At the very least, the pain in the neck on the throne next to him seemed like the type to gloat, so why wasn’t he?

As dusk fell, Roman got his answer. More and more vamps filtered into the wide stone hall, filling the space with their corpse-cold bodies and idle chatter. Once the last bit of sun had faded over the horizon, the Toothed Tyrant slowly straightened up in his seat, drawing all the eyes in the room to him. This was what he’d been waiting for.

What was the point in gloating about your evil deeds without an audience to lavish you in praise for it?

“Kin of mine. As I’m sure many of you have noticed, we have a... guest with us this evening.”

Roman shivered as those icy, glowing gazes moved towards him, jeering or morbidly curious or hungry. He pulled at the chains once more just to have something else to focus on, the shift and clink of the metal drowned out by his rapid heartbeat in his ears. He wondered if the vamps could hear it, too.

The pitiful excuse for a villain was still talking. “... fullest potency once the full moon hits, and our hunt will decide who claims such a reward.” His half-lidded gaze slid over to Roman. “A beast like this one has engaged in plenty of hunts before, I assume? Though, probably not as prey. I’m sure it’ll get used to the sensation eventually.”

Even with the gag, Roman could snarl as fierce as any wolf, and the rumbling growl emanating from his chest made some of the closer vamps lean away.

It didn’t seem to have any effect on the worst human leech of them all. He just smiled in a satisfied sort of way before rising to his feet. “What a rebellious spirit. Perhaps you should save that for the hunt, mutt?”

Think up some new nicknames, you absolute bore, Roman thought at him, just in case those rumors about vampires reading minds were true.

The vamp walked closer, until he was at the edge of the platform and Roman had to crane his head back to see his face.

“Let’s give us both a taste of what’s to come, then.”

Without pause, there were suddenly hands on his shirt, dragging him upwards until the restraints threatened to dislocate something. One moment, he was nearly face to face with the vamp, meeting those eye-searing red pupils. In the next, his vision blurred as sharp pain shot through his neck.

The vamp had sunk its nasty fangs in on either side of his jugular, not deep enough to kill him, but enough that it would only take the slightest twitch of the head for his throat to be ripped right out. His body kept frozen even as he began to choke, his mouth tasting of iron and salt.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t escape, couldn’t attack, couldn’t even die until these monsters allowed it. The more he fought and resisted, the tighter their grasp on him would become, and the more he would suffer. It would be better to just give up now, save himself the trouble.

(Why am I… That’s not right--)

Roman only realized the vampire was withdrawing when those sharp teeth finally pulled away carelessly, causing a new wave of pain to roll through him. He automatically tried to reach for his throat, to stem the bleeding, but his bound hands could barely rise a few inches. He bent his head down instead, his pride stinging silently as a cacophony of mockery sounded all around him.

Once his fingers touched flesh, however, he could only feel shallow cuts rather than the gaping wounds he knew should be there. He coughed wetly, and red splattered across his hands, but he could breathe once more. However bad the bite had been, it had healed near instantly.

Of course. It was beginning to sink in that they wouldn’t let him perish that easily.

The vampire king was speaking again, eyes brighter than before, and his words blurred together and slipped away from Roman’s understanding. He could only notice the smear of deep red on the vampire’s face, and shudder where he lay as a chill set into his bones.

Time passed in a haze, marked by the constant flurry of vamp activity in the fort around him, the occasional meal to keep him alive, and his connection to the ever-waxing moon.

He felt a faint sense of concern about the way days seemed to slip away, and also about how far away and hard to grasp the concern itself felt. There was something seriously wrong when the growing light of the moon felt more like an approaching deadline than a relief.

The one other thing marking the time, he would much rather forget. Every night without fail, no matter how he fought, the same vampire would drag him up and plunge dagger-like teeth into his throat, leaving him drained and weak on the cold floor afterwards.

Roman wasn’t a fool; he knew that the bites were the reason he felt so exhausted and fuzzy. He just couldn’t do anything about it. The feeling of helplessness only grew stronger and stronger after each night, and slowly, he began to lose the will to fight the dreary feelings off.

By the time the night before the full moon hit, hope was hard to find.

He was slumped awkwardly against the ground when the door to the chamber creaked open, and the noise jolted him out of his dozing as quick as anything. His muscles went rigid and tense.

The head vamp hadn’t drank from him yet today, having left in the middle of the day with an extensive entourage for… something. It had probably been mentioned in earshot-- they weren’t very careful about what he did and did not hear-- but Roman hadn’t been paying enough attention. Maybe they were scouting out new territory?

Regardless, he had sort of been hoping it would keep the bloodsucker out of his hair for long enough that he could recover even just a bit before… before he ran out of time. So much for that.

To his surprise, there was no trace of the vamp’s normal arrogant strides. In fact, there was barely any sound at all. Roman could only tell that someone was approaching by the shifting of shadows and that dusty undead smell.

Suddenly, there was a cold palm on his arm, and he jerked up with a jagged snarl, his mind screaming at him to do anything to prevent being bitten again. The palm was yanked away instantly, and Roman could see the silhouette of the vamp before him.

It definitely wasn’t the head vamp. Smaller, and with curled hair that reflected the torchlight. He couldn’t see his expression, and his mind still screamed dangerous. His growl increased in intensity as the vamp extended a hand again, but he’d called Roman’s bluff: he had no way to defend himself in the restraints. Whatever the vamp was going to do, he couldn’t stop it.

The vamp’s other hand rose, and Roman couldn’t stop himself from flinching.

It made it all the more surprising when he heard the clank of a key in a lock. His eyes shot open, and to his disbelief, the chain connecting his cuffs to the platform went loose, no longer attached. A moment later, the vamp’s hands were on his cuffs, but rather than grab them and drag him, there was another clank.

For the first time in days, fresh air grazed his wrists. His hands were free.

A surge of adrenaline hit him, and he twisted quicker than the vamp could react, pinning him to the ground with a knee to the abdomen and a hand over his throat. It would keep the creature from getting enough air to call out an alarm. With his other hand, he immediately tore at the muzzle, his nails going claw-sharp to tear through the straps. He spat the remnants of the wretched thing out, and turned his attention to the vamp.

Cold hands curled over Roman’s own, like he wanted to pry the hand off his throat, but other than that, he wasn’t struggling against Roman’s hold. Oddly enough, his chest was rising and falling in an uncanny mimicry of panicked breathing, and even his eyes seemed oddly dark for a vamp. Roman would have thought him a human if not for the unmistakable fangs.

His grip tightened at the reminder. “You’re not getting any more blood out of me,” he growled, his voice rough and crackly. His whole body felt out of practice. If he stood up and bolted, he risked falling flat on his own face, and if he turned and the vamp lunged…

No. Easier to just… just vanquish the vamp so he couldn’t do anything. One less thing to worry about during his escape.

He lifted his other hand, claws pinched together as a makeshift stake. The vampire twitched once, his mouth opening briefly as though to speak, and then seemed to slump. His hands stopped tugging at Roman’s fingers around his neck, and he pinched his eyes closed, bracing for the blow.

Roman frowned. Was this a ploy for sympathy?

He could feel the way the vamp trembled under him, unnaturally lifelike.

… It was an effective one. Shit.

He lowered his hand slowly, loosened his grip, waiting for the moment the stranger dropped the ruse and lunged. It didn’t come. He just kept waiting for Roman to hurt him.

He abruptly felt a little sick to his stomach. He let go of the vamp’s throat. The guy opened one eye slowly, like he thought it was a trick.

“If you get up from this spot, if you even twitch before I’m out of this building, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Roman threatened, a growl under the words and his lip curling up slightly to bare his teeth. “You won’t get mercy twice.”

The vamp’s expression did something complicated (Confusion? Relief? Disappointment?) but when Roman scuttled back, he stayed laid out on the floor, not moving a muscle. Roman let a breath out slowly, some of the tension fading from him. “Well… good. Keep doing that.”

He could practically hear Virgil sighing as his awkwardness overwhelmed any menace his threat might have instilled. It wasn’t his fault he was off-script, okay? This vampire was… weird.

Roman shuffled back a few more steps on weak legs, and then, once he was sure he was far enough away, he let the shift wash over him like a warm breeze. Four unsteady legs were better than two, and if he leaned a little on his instincts, his inner wolf would make his gait mostly smooth. It was a small but invaluable aid as as he sprinted down long, musty halls until he was finally, finally out of that cursed fortress.

Roman was so relieved he could have cried. He was still weak, and his head was still foggy, but he didn't stop until there was finally trees around him and dirt under his feet. As he collapsed, the night air still tasted like victory.

#sanders sides #vampire au #fantasy au #ts roman #ts patton #blood tw #violence tw #hurt/comfort #more comfort next chapter lol #writing #my writing #bthb #or set your teeth against my throat #osytamt #werewolf au #this ones a little dark and sad at first but this is only the first chapter!#murder mention #ok i think thats everything #im tired im taking a break for the rest of the day

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

you & I (just meant to be)

Author: @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt: This silly, silly ditty was inspired by two (count ‘em! two!) lovely prompts which are as follows “Peeta can’t stop staring at Katniss in her costume :0” and “Everlark meeting at a fancy dress party dressed as a ‘matching’ pair, although they don’t each other - maybe a famous couple but who don’t need the other … Joker and Harley Quinn, Batman and Robin or my favorite: Anna and Elsa from Frozen … Peeta would make a wonderful Anna” - I thought these two went well together, and took a couple of creative liberties to make them jive. Hope you lovelies like! [submitted by @deardiaryithinkiamaghost and @wendywobbles]

Rating: T, for implied Everlark shenanigans

Author’s Note: Thank you to my dear @archersandsunsets for her second pair of eyes on this one and to all the lovely moderators and coordinators of @seasonsofeverlark, the true MVPs. It’s been a busy month, so I apologize for any incoherence. Sometimes, the heart just wants goofy modern AU fluff. Alrighty, Chatty Cathy is done … enjoy!

____________

“Katniss, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Prim exclaims, though it sounds pretty pathetic with her congested, pinked nose. “You make the perfect ice queen!”

“I don’t think that’s usually a compliment,” Katniss says dourly, plopping down on the couch where her sister is situated with several fuzzy blankets, a box of tissues, and a large bowl of ice cream. She can’t taste it very well, but it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. Prim is in denial.

“I wish I could go,” she whines, holding the “o” in a long, dramatic note.

“I wish I could stay,” Katniss shoots back, holding the “ay” just as long.

“No you don’t,” Prim shoos. “You love our friends.”

“I do,” Katniss sighs, plucking at the silver sequined sleeves of her—well, Prim’s—Elsa costume. It’s too long on Katniss, with her sister’s good half inch on her, but it’s all they’ve got. Her original plan was to pull the classic black top and pants plus cat ears, but when it became apparent Prim wasn’t budging from the couch this Halloween, the real snowy blonde princess of the family had insisted Katniss take her outfit.

“You can’t show up to Finnick’s in a slapdash, last second costume, Katniss,” she’d said. “The man lives for Halloween. Don’t insult his extravagance with plastic headbands and tails.”

“I do love our friends, but … I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m tired.”

“Just half an hour,” Prim says. “Snag me some candy, make some pleasantries” — “okay, Jane Bennet” — “and then come home. At least one of us needs to show up. Just pretend to have a social life for thirty minutes, okay? For me.”

Katniss rolls her eyes as she gets up from the couch in a twinkling of blue overlay and snowflake hair pins in her braid. She does a quick once over of her shadowy makeup in the hallway mirror as she grabs her car keys. “What do you want?”

“Chocolate. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. I’ll save it for when I can experience taste again,” Prim calls back. “Oh, and if Delly’s cousin is there, all of the cupcakes he brought.”

“Mmkay. All the chocolate and cupcakes, coming right up,” Katniss says with a resigned smile. On her way out, she clicks on her phone. It’s just now eight. She resolves to be firmly ensconced in bed by nine at the latest. She gives her sister a wave, keys jangling. “I’ll be back. Soon.”

At ten thirty, Prim looks up from her Harry Potter induced doze to find she’s received a text from her sister.

Staying a little later. Fifteen minutes maybe. Have the treats.

Prim checks the time stamp. The text was sent forty five minutes ago. This might be cause for alarm were it not for the text underneath Katniss’s, from Finnick. It’s a photo, taken in front of a makeshift photo op with purple and silver and orange streamers in the background and cutesy little bat and pumpkin and vampire fang cardboard props for people to hold up. It’s captioned “You can’t marry a man you just met!”

Prim brings her hand to her mouth to catch a laugh before it turns into a cough. Her sister, Elsa costume sparkling in the flash, is pretending to shake her finger disapprovingly at her “Anna” counterpart. The laugh breaks free this time. Prim grabs for her tepid tea to soothe her throat as she cracks up over the really incredible image of Peeta Mellark, Delly Cartwright’s stocky older cousin, in a red braided wig, and strikingly accurate green rosemaled gown, sitting quite comfortably, if amusingly, over his athletic build. He’s pretending to gripe back at Katniss about why exactly he can marry Hans of the Southern Isles. Their mock scowls barely contain smiles.

Prim quickly fires a text back to Finnick: How??? Did that happen???

Finnick’s text comes through a second later: The Lord works in mysterious ways! Idk!

Okay but like?? Yes??

I know!!!!

Some people are worth melting for????

Her cold never bothered him anyway? *finger guns*

Omg.

Katniss arrives back at the house at five to midnight, and Prim pretends to be asleep, watching with one eye cracked half open as her sister unstraps her silver heels and dumps them by the front door, drops her keys into the bowl. Sets down a full bag of what Prim can only guess are cupcakes and sweets.

She’s humming under her breath. It sounds like the chorus of “Love is an Open Door.” Prim wonders if it’s possible that her folk and indie music loving sister actually listened to a Disney album on the way home. Katniss unbraids her hair and shakes it loose, dropping the pins on the side table as she sinks into the squashy chair kitty-corner to Prim’s couch. She curls up, knees to chest, making her look like some sort of ice mermaid as she takes out her phone and taps something on it, still humming. Prim watches her chew her cheek pensively, as if deciding to send the text. She takes a deep breath and taps one final time on the screen, then drums her phone nervously against her lips for a moment. Prim’s nerves are firing with anticipation.

They wait a silent minute. Two. Three. Three and a half —

Katniss’s screen lights up again and she flips the phone up to stare at the reply. Her whole face softens. Eyes, brow, edges of her mouth. Katniss bites her lip and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the chair cushion with a contented sigh. “‘You know what’s crazy?’” she sing-songs in a mumble under her breath. “‘We finish each other’s sandwiches … I’ve never met someone who thinks so much like …” She yawns. “Me.”

“You know,” Prim says, and Katniss shrieks, sending her phone flying to the carpet, “Peeta Mellark strikes me more as a Kristoff than a Hans.”

“Prim!” Katniss yelps, going red. “Wha — what? What do you mean?”

“So we’re done with stupid plastic cat ears for Halloween then I take it?”

[the very next Halloween]

“Whoa. Okay.” Peeta sits up from the pile of cushions at the head of their bed, eyes wide and staring in approval, pupils gone dark. “Katniss Everdeen in cat ears is not something I knew I needed until this moment.”

“Oh sure,” Katniss laughs. “Because it’s definitely the cat ears that are doing it for you. Not these.” She hoists one stockinged leg up onto the bed like a mountain climber posing for a magazine.

“Well, those are certainly part of the appeal,” he teases, reaching for her leg, running his hands up and down the silk tights. “As is this lovely number.” He toys with the hem of her dress, a strapless black velvet thing that falls just above her knee. “Where’s this from?”

“Jo,” Katniss sighs. “She says if I’m going to be a cat, I need to be a Gretchen Wieners level cat.”

“For whose benefit, I wonder?” Peeta muses, cheek nuzzling gently at her lower thigh.

“You wonder?” Katniss laughs, taking her leg away and flopping onto the bed. She glances over at him, eyes sly and somehow soft at once. “I don’t.”

“I can’t help thinking,” he muses. “that this is something of a counterproductive plan on Jo’s part. Because now, I have a sudden and distinct interest in staying in tonight.”

“Oh?” Katniss raises a come hither eyebrow and pushes up on her elbows to accept the kiss he plants on her lips as he crawls over her, urging her back to the headboard. “Is it the cat ears?” She reaches up to give the (already molting) plastic and faux fur ears a flick.

“The Kat ears,” he says. He nips softly at her real ear and she shivers. “The Kat nose.” He kisses that too. His nose nudges her head back, inclining her neck at the perfect angle for him to plant a stretch of kisses down it. “The Kat neck.” His mouth wanders down the front of her dress and he scoots down the bed with it. “The Kat’s cradle.”

“You have that,” she says, hiking her legs up to hug around his middle because her arms can’t reach to hold him. “You’ll always have that.”

“A piece of that Kit Kat bar.” He kisses her stomach. “The whole Kit and Caboodle,” he teases and she laughs loudly, but on a dime his tone is changing, from silly and playful into husky and dangerous, as he moves lower. “Kitten,” he murmurs and her fingers curl in the bedsheets at the name. “Grab my phone,” he tells her, hooking his fingers around the band of her tights, “Tell Finnick we’re going to be late.”

An hour or so later finds the cat ears lost somewhere among the remains of their costumes and a hasty snack of pepperoni rolls cooking in the convection oven. Peeta, festooned in boxers and an old apron, presides over the food like it needs a baker’s supervision. Katniss perches on the counter, wrapped chest to toes in the white sheet she pulled from their bed, feet batting absently at the cabinets.

“This is a good look too,” he tells her, gesturing with the salad tongs he’s using to handle the pepperoni rolls.

“What is? This sheet?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of sexy ghost.”

“Or sexy Roman senator,” she laughs, tossing one edge of the sheet over a bare shoulder. “Sexy Julius Caesar.”

“You’d make a good Julius Caesar,” he says.

“Why?”

“You’ve got that “came, saw, conquered” vibe. Least that’s how I felt that night at Finnick’s party.”

“Conquered?”

“I was gonna say seen, but — yes. Conquered too. I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He snaps his fingers. “Sexy ice queen? Definitely.”

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of Freudian analysis one could make on falling in love with the guy dressed as your fictional sister but — ”

Peeta shrugs as the timer beeps, and he sets to fishing the pepperoni rolls onto a plate for them to share. “I choose to think of it as a metaphor for how the two people you love most in the world are your real, actual sister …” He sets the rolls beside her on the counter and sets his hands gently on her sides. She lets the sheet fall and pool slightly around her waist to cup his face as he leans in to kiss her forehead, very gently, thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. “And some loser who has the luck of … oh, I guess having the same first initial and hair color as she does,” he jokes.

“And the same beautiful heart,” Katniss corrects in a whisper. “I mean that.” She’s rarely so sentimental to anyone except him. She smirks. “And I haven’t even started drinking yet.”

“Well, my pretty kitty,” he starts, wrapping both his arms around her middle and hoisting her off the counter. She rolls her eyes, even as her hands card through his hair. “The night is still young.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #rosegardeninwinter #submission #octoberlark 2020 #octoberlark

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

Text

I Know What You’re Going To Say - Chapter 3

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: A Beauty and the Beast style Vampire AU. Vampire!Virgil has picked up Logan off the street and is holding him captive under the threat of killing his friends if he tries to escape.

Word Count: 4275

Chapter Warning: Mentions of Parental Neglect/Control, Mind Control, Crying, Corruptions, Mentions of Police (Let me know if I missed anything!)

---

Janus stirred the coffee in front of him quietly as he peered out the window of the decrepit all-night diner. He felt a tightness welling in his chest as he traced back the night's events that had somehow ended with him here. Rain pattered on the window. Each wet streak glowing with the reflections of the bright pink, neon signs that the owners had seen fit to hang on nearly every surface of this godawful place. His lips twitched with disgust as he glanced down at his watch, checking the time yet again as he stared down the near empty streets.

The kid was late. Ten minutes. The simple thought made his stomach twist with anxiety. After leaving Virgil, finding his prisoner’s friend had been almost comically easy. Virgil had his home address. A quick flight had him peering through the man's windows in under half an hour, but the passing glance he'd gotten was enough for him to guess where man had gone.

He was already half the way down the street when a message from Virgil confirmed that the man’s work address. Less than an hour after leaving Virgil, he was being served by the very man he for which he'd been searching. Janus smirked at the simplicity, humming to himself contentedly as yet another car swept by outside sending wave of dirty water onto the curb.

Still, Janus could hardly complain. Virgil had certainly sent him on worse missions, and though the dingy, over-lit diner was an eyesore, the man serving him was putting on quite the show as he flitted between the glistening, chrome surface of the bar. The subtle eyeliner flared to a perfect point as winked at the cook through the serving window.

Janus smiled, eyes lingering a bit too long on the handsome waiter as he distracted himself from the empty streets outside. Truly, he was grateful for the late night hours as the lack of customers meant minimal effort for him to keep prying eyes away from his all to recognizable face. Being a vampire had its perks, after all. On a mere whim, the other customer’s gazes slipped over him like he was a mere shadow. Only the charming waiter he was currently staring had been allowed to catch a glimpse of him sitting alone in the booth.

The waited with the golden hair had immediately recognized him upon bouncing up to the table to take his order, but fortunately, the guy didn’t seem to be the squealing type. A note which Janus would very much be filing away for later as he watched the man melt under his control. It had only taken a few, short words to make the man forget he had recognized Janus and hand over his phone.

Janus bit his lip at the memory. The sight of the flamboyant waiter suddenly soured in his mouth as he remembered why he was here. The texts he’d read on the man's phone had indicated the kid was supposed to be here at midnight. His eyes flicked up to the retro-looking clock as it read a quarter past the hour. From the texts he’d gleaned that the kid's parents had reluctantly agreed to drop the kid off with his starry-eyed server, Roman, but the mystery of the late-night hand-off had not been resolved by the golden boy's texts.

Janus tapped his fingernails on the cheap plastic tabletop as the golden boy himself glanced up at clock above the bar nervously. He stared curiously as his façade of nonchalance broke for the first time, revealing the underlying anxiety brewing behind the sweet smile. Janus blinked as the man disappeared behind the bar, allowing his attention to drift back to the rain-soaked window once more. He stirred his coffee absently as watched the glowing headlights rush past.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, barely obscuring the hazy view of the streets outside. He'd almost turned back to watch the golden boy when a slim black car caught Janus’ attention. The sleek, tinted windows of the strange car stood out among the tattered, worn down streets. Janus sat up straight as the car pulled up next to the curb and the back door popped open to reveal the reddish-brown hair of the kid he'd been waiting for.

Not a moment was spared on goodbyes. The kid immediately bound to the door of the diner, slamming the car door behind him. Janus didn’t see that it mattered however, as the car was gone before the kid even made it to the door. He let out a soft breath, turning to watch as the golden boy gleefully rush to the door with a slightly manic look in his eyes.

The interaction should have filled Janus with relief. Seeing the kid in the man’s arms meant the most difficult part of his job was done. All he had to do now is watch the kid for a few days, but something about the simple interaction he'd just watched set him on edge.

Janus’ tension only seemed to ease as he watched the golden boy sweep the boy up into his arms, whispering to him in hushed tones. They stayed like that for a solid minute, before the bouncing waiter finally started to drag the kid to a booth. A few moments later, they were walking towards his booth and his former human instincts and he averted his gaze. Logically, he knew their gaze would pass over him, but the compulsion to be polite seemed to be far stronger in his brain.

“Where’s your coat, Pat?” The man whispered as he guided the kid into the seat behind him.

“He—uh, he didn't let me take it.”

The kid’s mumble was almost incoherent as the man stopped abruptly next to the booth, staring as the kid slid onto the vinyl seat behind him.

“What?”

There was a long pause as the golden boy stared down at the kid. Janus could almost feel the heat in the kids cheeks as he squirmed behind him. “He said, if I thought I was an adult, I could act like it—and my stuff would be waiting when I came to my senses and went back.”

“What a goddamn asshole, Pat.” The golden boy whispered in disbelief. Immediately, he seemed to backtrack until the kid interrupted him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t swear in front of y—"

“They also said some nasty things about Lo before I left.” The kid's voice trembled as he tapped on the cheap plastic table

“It wasn't true. Whatever they said, Logan has done nothing but care about you.” The golden boy's deep voice reassured him. “He has everything set up. You won't have to worry about a thing.”

“I know. I just—”

Janus' heart twisted with guilt at sadness in the kid’s voice.

“Where is—"

“Listen, I'm going to grab my jacket for you, Starlight. You’re absolutely shivering. I'll be—” The man stopped him abruptly. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Okay, Ro.”

Ice seized Janus' heart at the confused tone of the kid's and he jerked his head around to watch the golden boy’s head disappear behind the bar.

He doesn’t know his brother is missing.

The realization hit Janus like a brick wall as he glanced over his shoulder at the back of the kid’s head. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned forward to fidget with the basket of sugar in front of him. Janus blinked as he turned around, barely able to process what was happening. As he slunk back into his seat, Janus slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Virgil in his phone.

J: Got eyes on the kid.

V: he's safe?

J: He's fine I think.

V: what does that mean?

J: Kid doesn’t know his brother’s missing, Vee.

V: what

V: wait how close are you?

A sudden, sweeping motion in his periphery caught Janus’ attention and he turned his head to see the golden boy making his way back in their direction.

V: Jan what's happening?

J: Update later.

Janus bit his lip guiltily as he typed the quick response, shoving his phone back in his pocket. His phone immediately buzzed a response. He turned his head, casually reaching into his pocket to silence his phone as he watched the pretty waiter make his way back to the table. The man was effortlessly balancing three plates on top of carrying the jacket he had swung over his arm. He moved quickly across the room and only stopping to gracefully slide the plate across the table to the kid and throw the jacket at him.

“Eat up, Pat.” The charismatic waiter’s voice almost seemed deflated now. His tension seemed to release now that the kid was here, replaced by a much more somber tone. “I'm taking off early tonight so we can get you to sleep at a decent time.”

“Where’s—”

“—I'll be back in a minute to grab you.” Janus’ stomach tightened as the golden boy tactfully brushed off the kid’s question. “Hopefully the rain will let up for the walk home not to be a miserable affair. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay.” The kid whispered, sounding a little deflated.

“Hey, don't be like that.” The waiter's incredibly charming voice echoed in his ear from behind him. Janus could feel a scuffle in the booth behind him as the waiter ruffled the kid's hair. “It’s good to see you here, Starlight, but please just try to cut me a little slack tonight.”

“Sorry. I promise to be patient.” The kid’s shy whisper shook slightly as if taken off guard by the waiter’s light reprimand. “Thanks again for letting us stay with you, Ro.”

“You don't ever have to apologize to me, Starlight.” The golden boy seemed to tense slightly at the kid's change in demeanor. “Even if it weren’t for Logan, my door is always open to you. You’re family, kid.”

Janus heart twisted at the bittersweet sentiment. This kid really had no idea what was going on and Janus wasn’t even sure the server planned on telling him. Stirring his coffee absently, images of the kid's brother tied tightly in Virgil’s binds flashed through the front of his mind. His eyes flicked to the side as the waiter backed away from the table, still talking with poor child.

Soon, the server returned to his duties, leaving a heavy silence hanging over him. A bitter taste settled into the back of Janus' throat as his thoughts fell into a dark spiral. Virgil could be feeding on the guy now, as his brother innocently picked at his food. Even if he wasn’t, Janus could still see the red, irritated welts on the guy’s wrists perfectly in his mind. He—

“Excuse me.”

Janus nearly jumped out of his skin as the kid tapped on his shoulder from behind him, somehow breaking straight through his glamour. Fortunately, his instincts kicked in and he dropped his head, keeping his face hidden from the child leaning over the barrier and into his booth.

“Can I borrow your ketchup?”

“What?” Janus incredulous tone must have registered as odd to the kid, because he suddenly started to explain the simple question.

“The bottle at this table is almost empty and I—”

“Yes. Take it.” Janus snapped, cutting off the kid's explanation as he hastily shoved the red bottle into the kid's open hand.

“Thanks.” The kid's voice sounded almost hurt and almost certainly taken aback at Janus’ abrupt cut into his attempt at a friendly inquiry. “I'm sorry to bother you, sir.”

Janus' stomach twisted as the kid turned back around and slumped back into his seat. He cast a quick glance back at the kid, stilling as the kid’s body language slouched. He knew for a fact, it wasn’t worth getting involved, but despite his wariness, Janus was getting the idea this kid was used to being shoved aside and he didn’t want to be the one to do that to this kid.

Fuck. Virgil is going to flay me alive.

“You didn’t bother me.” Janus whispered hesitantly, forcing himself to keep staring forward as the kid turned toward him.

“What?

“You surprised me is all.” Janus muttered. “No harm done, kid.”

“Patton.”

Now, it seemed it was Janus’ turn to turn back over his shoulder, dumbfounded, but the kid had already faced forward.

“And I'm not a kid.”

Janus smirked, turning forward to stare out the wall of windows. “Come now. You look like you can't be more than fourteen.”

“I'm sixteen.”

Sixteen.

Janus blinked in disbelief at the kid's age and chewing his cheek at the kid’s slight defensive tone. “Still it’s a little late for someone as young as you to be out and about on this side if town .”

“Legally, I'm adult.” Patton muttered. “I'm—I'm emancipated.”

“Legal don't mean shit here, kid.” Janus stared down at his coffee, remembering the look of despair on the kid's brother's face as Virgil had loomed over him. “You’re going to have to learn that real quick, if you plan on staying here.”

“I'm staying.”

“No offense, kid, but I saw the car that brought you here.” Janus whispered, stirring his coffee absently. “The streets are going to eat you alive, if you aren’t—”

“My brother knows what he's doing.” The kid snapped, though he seemed to be losing steam. “He's got a plan. I know he does.”

“I sure hope he does, Patton,” Janus paused, chewing on his thoughts as the kid’s name passed his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy’s new guardian making his way back to his table, so he quickly pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the table for the coffee he had hardly touched. He tensed with resolution as he moved to leave the booth. “But even if he doesn’t have a plan, I think you’ll find he has allies in unexpected places.”

“What?”

Janus could hear the kid turn around as he stepped out of his booth, but he didn’t even pause. He straightened his hat on his head as flared up the collar of his long coat.

“Don't give up, kid.”

“Wait—What are you talking ab—”

The kid's call died out as he strode out of the restaurant, pushing past the concerned waiter who was rushing back to the table to collect the kid. Janus sighed, frustrated as he pushed open the double doors of diner and swept down the street, taking a swift turn into the alleyway behind the restaurant.

Janus’ breaths came in short gasps as he paced the alleyway with a fierce intention. Fury flared in his chest as his body filled with indignation on the kid's behalf. His pace had nearly peaked when he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He snarled as he noticed the already lit screen, barely resisting the urge to smash the phone into the wall as he caught Virgil’s name on the screen. Janus' pacing stilled. His anger burned white-hot as he considered letting Virgil worry, but his sudden desire for a fight won out as he clicked the green button and snarled into the receiver .

“What?”

“What the hell, Janus?” Virgil growled into his ear. “You don’t get to just ghost me whenever you feel like it—”

“I can’t do this.”

The line went silent for a long minute as Janus breathed into his cell. He sighed, releasing a bit of his anger as he leaned into the wall.

“This kid is already asking questions about his brother. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes he's not coming home.” Janus hissed. “Even this guy’s friend seems like a decent human. He's still planning on taking the kid in even knowing his friend’s gone—”

“Janus—”

“No. Tell me, Virgil. When did we start doing shit like this to good people?” Janus leaned off the dumpster behind him as his diatribe intensified. “I didn’t sign up for th—”

“Maybe, if you gave me a chance to speak, I’d—”

“Where’s my brother, Roman?!”

The blood-curdling shriek sent Janus flying behind the dumpster. He'd barely managed to crouch out of sight he heard a scuffle at the entrance to the alleyway.

“Quiet!”

Janus hesitantly peeked around the corner to catch a glance of the golden boy dragging the kid into the alley. His fangs started to extend as the full-grown man pressing the kid into the wall of the other building, covering his mouth with his hand so he couldn't call for help. Adrenaline shot through Janus’ body as he prepared to lunge into action.

“I need you to relax, Pat.” The waiter’s deep voice sent shivers down Janus’ spine, but his tone was kind and patient. “I'm going to tell you, but your father can’t hear about this. If he does, you’re going to end up right back at home.”

Janus’ muscles eased as the golden boy's grip slackened, even though the kid seemed far from settling as he squirmed in the man’s arms. Feeling the tension drop, Janus edged further into the shadows as he glanced at his phone, grateful that Virgil seemed to have picked up that he needed to remain quiet.

“Come on, Starlight. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The man’s voice trembled, nearly fading to silence. “I'm lost, too.”

The kid, Patton, seemed to go slack in the man's arms at the slight tremble in the man's voice. Janus’s heart ached as he stared at the kid. The wet streaks on his face glistened in the light of the streetlamp and he looked even younger than he had in the diner.

Just a kid.

“I don't know where Logan is, Pat. He disappeared last night.”

Janis could feel the energy in the air shift as the kid started to shake his head violently. He threw his whole weight into the man holding him against the wall, knocking the man's hand free of his mouth.

“No—no, no, nonono—”

“Don’t panic. We're going to find—”

“What happened, Roman?” The kid's voice cracked as he backed away from the man, swaying unevenly on his feet.

“I don’t know, Patton. We were walking home from the diner last night and—” Roman hovered close to the kid, desperate to comfort him but cautious about antagonizing him. “I don't know what happened after that. I woke up in my bed, and—and Lo never came home.”

Janus leaned closer, staring as his fangs slowly retracted. Patton continued to sway dangerously until the man came up to steady him from behind.

“What did the police say?”

Janus watched curiously as the man's expression shifted and he suddenly gripped the kid tighter. “I couldn't call them, Pat.”

“What?!”

A shiver ran down Janus’ spine as the kid's shriek filled his ears and it a was a long moment after that before he even processed the man's words. He glanced down at his phone, knowing Virgil was probably listening as intently to this conversation as himself.

The guy didn't call the cops.

“Logan was very clear about what he wanted me to do if something happened to him. His priority was always making sure you were safe first—”

“Not if he's missing, Roman.”

“He told me exactly what he'd want me to do if he went missing, Patton” Roman whispered staring over at Patton. “and that means making sure the police don't find out he's gone.”

“Why—”

“Your father has the police under his thumb,” Roman stepped closer to Patton, wrapping his arm around him. “One of the conditions of your emancipation was having a place to live with your brother. If he’s gone, the judge could throw out the decision, especially with a district attorney whispering in his ear."

“He knew?”

“God, no. Pat, he wanted to be here waiting for you. He planned to be at the diner when you arrived,” Roman stepped forward, gripping the kid’s shoulders as he forced him to make eye contact. “but Lo spent hours planning for anything that could possibly go wrong. He wanted to know that you were taken care of, even if something happened to him.”

Patton continued to stare at the ground, shaking. “Roman, he could be hurt—”

Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, glancing down at his phone.

“I've already got Rem on it. We're going to find him.” Roman whispered. His voice dropped quiet enough that Janus could barely make out the words. “I'm not giving up on him. Okay?”

The kid's face paled and Janus could only guess he was barely standing by the way he continued to sway. Silence hung over them for longer than Janus was comfortable with, but the man holding his shoulders waited patiently until the kid responded.

“Okay.”

“Good,” Roman turned the kid's shoulder to walk him out of the alley. “Now, let’s get you to bed."

“Ro—” Patton slowed

“Don't argue, Pat. You’re not going to do Lo any favors by depriving yourself of sleep.” Roman placed a hand on the Patton's back in gentle reassurance. “We'll meet up with Rem first thing in the morning and go from there.”

“’Kay.”

The kid's mumble faded as they left the alley and Janus rose out of the shadows as they turned the corner out of the alley. He bit his lip, staring after them as he unmuted his phone and lifted the receiver to his ear.

“Do you feel like an asshole yet?”

“You know,” Virgil’s voice growled in his ear. “Your biting sarcasm loses its charm very quickly.”

Janus bristled as Virgil brushed him off. “I'm done, Virgil. Return the guy or I'm—"

“No.”

Janus snarled silently. “Fine, then I'm out. Best of luck with whatever bastard plan you’ve—”

“Stop.” Virgil muttered, his voice full of reluctance. “Please, just hear me out.”

Janus' thumb hovered over the button, but the subtle plea in Virgil’s voice gave him pause not to hang up. He sighed, raising the phone back to his ear. “You have exactly thirty seconds to change my mind, Virgil.”

Virgil didn’t hesitate a second with his response. “Do you remember when I got into that fight a few years ago?”

Janus paused, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He slowed his pacing, staring curiously out the alley in the direction the kid had left as he replied hesitantly to Virgil. “Yes, I do.”

Virgil's let out a long breath into the receiver. “This guy is the guy I fought, Janus.”

Janus blinked, mouth hanging agape. “Oh.”

“I know how this looks, Jan,” Virgil breathed quietly. “but this dude put me in the hospital because I said something he didn't like. However upset the kid is about his brother being missing, he’s safer without this monster.”

Chewing his lip, Janus paced back and forth in the alley. His body tensed as he tried to process his friend’s words.

“Janus?”

Janus let out a long sigh, pressing his thumb into his temple. “I'm here, Virgil.”

Static crackled in the phone's speaker as the silence hung over them. Janus glanced up at the amber street light tapping his fingers on his arm as a group of people passed the alley. Their laughter broke the fragile silence, grating against Janus’ ears.

“I'm not the only bad guy.”

“You’re not—” Janus repeated back without hesitation. “You’re not a bad guy.”

He could hear Virgil’s breathy snort through the phone as he stifled a chuckle. “You seem awfully sure about changing your tune so quick.”

“I am.” Janus muttered, stepping towards the street.

“Janus,” Virgil’s sharp inhale stilled Janus pacing as he awaited Virgil’s response. “we're good?”

“We're good, Virgil.” The corner of Janus' mouth twitched up at the relief in Virgil’s voice.

“Good.” Virgil’s voice wavered with emotion and Janus smiled at the subtle show of vulnerability. “Now please, make sure that kid gets home safely.”

“I will.” Janus smiled, leaning into the stone wall across the alley from the diner.

“Thank you.”

Janus paused for a moment, smile faltering as the situation that had just unfolded before him continued processing in his mind. "Vee?"

"Yeah, Jan?"

"He didn't call the cops."

"I know. Something's up with these people," Virgil's voice dropped as he let out a long sigh. "We'll figure out what's going on, but for now, let's just be glad we don't have heat breathing down our necks. Okay?"

"Okay." Janus nodded absently, trying to relax. "You're right."

"It'll be fine."

"Right. I know."

"Jan, relax." Virgil whispered patiently. "You're safe. There ain't nothing bigger or badder on those streets than you."

Janus cracked a smile, chuckling as he stood up from the wall. "Oh, I know."

"Keep me updated."

Janus grunted an affirmation, and a moment later, the line disconnected. He sighed, quickly dropping his phone from his ear into his pocket, feeling a familiar numbness settle into his limbs as stepped out onto the sidewalk. The scent of the golden boy’s cologne was easy enough to catch as he turned down the street towards his target. He swept around the next corner, thoughts wandering as the streets began to blur together. He bit his lip, shoulders curled forward even though he couldn’t feel the sharp bite of the cold. The amber lights illuminated him as he closed the distance between him and the kid, not that he noticed the buildings as they blurred past as he disappeared into the night.

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I Know What You’re Going To Say Taglist:

@theoddkidnextdoor @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @im-actually-ok @justanoymous

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts janus #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #I Know What You're Going To Say #villain writes

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resinatingbeauty · 3 years

Text

Witchcraft & Expectations

What do you really expect from the Craft?

I had considered writing this for a while before actually doing it just because I didn't want anyone to feel like they were being attacked or singled out. Offending you isn't the purpose of this post, so please do not be discouraged by anything you read here. There is no wrong way of practicing your Craft and to each their own. I was just curious about perspectives when it comes to your expectations regarding Witchcraft, magick, and spirituality as I have dealt with many different people following many different paths since focusing more on my Craft and art through my shop which began on Mercari and grew enough to become more established on Etsy.

I do sell many spiritual / witchy items from personalized spell kits to witchy mystery boxes compiled with Intuitively chosen and my own handmade, one of a kind items. Among the most popular spiritual offerings are my 'buy one get one miniature spell jars,' which allow my customers to select two general purposes or a personalized request from which I assemble and enchant a miniature glass spell jar containing herbs, crystals, essential oils, and other objects based on their needs and requests. I wanted to make these little portable vessel talismans more available to everyone price and purpose wise, compared to others that have been charged with a more specific intent or devoted to a specific deity.

I have a long history of using spell jars myself for various purposes whenever I feel compelled to create one or a special occasion arises. I'm picky about larger jars and bottles, however, so they are usually created in small corked jars or in larger jars that I will sometimes embellish or try new things to integrate that allow the spell jar to also be an appealing or intriguing piece of handmade everyday decor while serving its spiritual purpose, such as the one in the photo above.

For the most part, I have found a surprisingly amount of success with my spell jars. Not just myself, but others as well have reported events that they thought were directly related to their spell jar. I had created one for my neighbor a couple weeks ago who had been searching for a better job than the one she had at a preschool. The day after I gave her the jar, she received a text from an old coworker who notified her that a position at a bank she had applied at months ago that had nothing available at that time had just opened up.

This actually exceeded my expectations. In my experience, magick takes time. Others who have commented on the success of their spell jars or magick in general would contact me a few weeks or so after using their spell kit or receiving their spell jar. I created a spell jar back in January to help jumpstart my small business selling my crafts and Craft and didn't really start to see a huge change until mid-March-April where I was more successful than even I anticipated.

This was about on par with what I expected in terms of time, as most spells I've ever done have taken days, weeks, or even months to start manifesting results that couldn't be passed off or ignored. To be sure, I include a scroll with each of my kits and jars explaining how they are best utilized, to have patience, how to set a purpose and intentions, the power of thinking positively, and that magick rewards those who are willing to work and make sacrifices for what they desire. To me, all of these things are virtues that this path teaches us and are part of what makes the Craft so empowering overall. Whether it was the spell or your hard work, you are the catalyst for change. You made things happen. I mean, what is more empowering than that?

This is part of the reason why I personally chose to over spell kits and magickal tools rather than offering to cast spells or perform rituals on one's behalf. It was my desire to make YOU feel empowered and you are the one ultimately responsible for your own success or failure, whether spiritually or otherwise. I'll gladly steer you down the road of success and provide you with my knowledge, experience, and guidance, but I am always clear about what to expect.

Unfortunately, we live in a time where instant gratification is anticipated and expected, which I never considered in terms of Witchcraft. I knew that no matter how many times I write 'set realistic expectations, focus on your purpose, be patient, and keep doing what your doing' that some people would just blow through all that hoping that they just bought a quick fix for all their problems for $6.99 + a buy one get one deal.

Two weeks or so ago, I had received an order for said jars from a young man who simply said he wanted a personalized spell jar for lucid dreaming and dream work and selected his second 'free' one for self empowerment. I reached out to clarify and answered some of his questions. My immediate impression from him was one of discord. He expressed a lot of turmoil in his life over the past few months and claimed to have taken on a lot of responsibility. He seemed young and eager, with a ton of questions regarding magick in general. I answered his questions the best I could, but reiterated the same values I expressed in the previous paragraph when asked why such and such spell wasn't working, 'should I not have done this,' etc. Magick takes time to manifest, especially when it comes to financial purposes like he explained which are inherently unlikely to resolve themselves overnight.

He seemed happy enough with his purchase and said as much when he received his package. A couple days later, I received a notification about a review he had left which was negative, saying one of his spell jars didn't work with a message delivered in tandem asking what purpose I had set for his spell jar.

Let me say this: I am not upset with him or complaining about his review. He is entitled to his own opinion, although I was annoyed with how quickly he had come to the conclusion when in the instructions I provided him I specifically said that these things take time to work. Anyone who receives results instantly or within the next day or so are exceeding my own expectations. Which is great! Hooray!

But this is definitely not the standard I've come to expect in all the years I've been practicing the Craft.

I continued chatting with and answering this young man's questions and ultimately uncovered that he was upset about a variety of things that had been going on in his life. In his mind, he felt entitled to have these things work for him sooner rather than later and was frustrated and angry that nothing he tried had been working out the way he expected.

In the time that I have opened my little shop, I have (thankfully) only run into one other person like this- where their understanding of Witchcraft seems to have been compiled from television and movies. After the first, I learned to tread lightly around these individuals because, whether it's their fault or not, they have been mislead.

Television shows like old school Charmed and the newer Salem and Witches of East End are really entertaining. I enjoyed watching them, but they are the absolute enemy of those who practice magick / witchcraft as a form of religion or spirituality. Sure, some of these shows actually do their research. Even Buffy the Vampire Slayer was ahead of its time introducing Wiccans, Technopagans, and New Age practices to pop culture and in many ways helped to show people an obscured version of the truth during the 'Satanic Panic' period when even witches hated being called witches and the pentagram / pentacle difference became an actual difference that wasn't just a choice of words.

Newer generations growing up with Harry Potter, which is hardly a great introduction into magickal traditions, were at least more open minded than the previous generation to the actuality of witchcraft and magick as a spiritual practice.

I mean, who doesn't want to snap their fingers and make the house tidy in one fell swoop?

I sure do. But even when I first started practicing at 11 I understood that that just isn't how it is.

This young man who was saying he lead a coven sounded more like he was LARPing than legitimately asking for spiritual guidance. I realized real quick that I couldn't do anything for him. What he wanted and expected, no matter how many times I referenced the instructions I provided (he evidently hadn't acknowledged) and relayed to him my own experience and expectations, he was looking for that 'quick fix' and someone or something to blame for when it didn't work the way he thought it would. The main reason for his complaint? The night after he received his spell jar, he said he just dreamnt about the moon.

My understanding of lucid dreaming was having direct control over ones dreams. The more I talked to this person the more it became clear that this wasn't his understanding of lucid dreaming. I tried to ask what he had tried to gain that control, as many of you know that I suffered from sleep paralysis for years and taught myself how to realize and 'break out' of it over time. He referenced making offerings to a goddess. I had to stop.

I'm sure that another business minded witch would have sold him something else or offered an exchange. I (stupidly) tried to make him understand that he has the power to manifest his desires. All I did was provide him with a tool to help things along.

This was the same for the woman I had dealt with months ago who said that she had been told by this coven owned business that she was a vampire reincarnated to be with her lover. That was the ultimate end of our conversation because she didn't seem very open to anything I suggested. Whether the things she bought were 'effective' for her or not we will never know. When she started messaging me to the point of harassment I deleted her messages and flagged them as spam. All this time and effort spent consoling someone who really isn't in the right frame of mind for magick or witchcraft.

The main point in writing this ranty post is to get the perspective of the community. What are your expectations for your own spells? What do you tell others when they ask? If you are also a 'witch shop' owner or own your own spiritual practice how do you deal with clients that have set unrealistic expectations for you and your Craft?

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 4 years

Text

You're So Warm (ii)

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader

Summary: After his meeting with Y/N, Max is grappling with the fact that he couldn't turn her into a vampire. He invites her back to his office to continue what he started.

Warnings: Language, SMUT! Fingering, oral (f receiving), fucked on Max's desk. My first time writing smut so probably shitty writing? No editing, we die like men.

part i part ii part iii

After a week of Max's tireless efforts, things at the office had finally started to quiet down. He had taken care of the people that needed to be taken care of and he had put legal at ease with some quick solutions about their little problem. However, Max's mind was still racing. He couldn't stop thinking about her. He could still feel her skin burned into his. No one had ever held as much power over him as this little mortal did. He was going out of his mind pondering what she had done to make him feel like this. It couldn't have just been her warmth. He could have gained the same sensation from a microwave. There had to be something else. He couldn't gain control of himself anymore. He couldn't stop himself from becoming distracted by thinking of her. The thing about all of it that had truly gotten under his skin was the fact that he couldn't find the willpower to change her. Every time he nearly bolstered up the courage, he thought of her heat and he couldn't bring himself to do it. This had to stop. He was in control. This was his company. He made the rules.

He paced the floor of his office, hands resting behind his back. Max glanced eagerly at the small clock on his desk. She would be here soon and he would take care of things. At exactly 5:00 on the dot he saw her skitter into the office and towards her desk. He stopped pacing and stood by the windows of his office to study her movements. Max's gaze became predatorial as he watched her set her bag down and smooth out her skirt. She was very gentle with her things, putting them in their proper place. His tongue shot out to lick his lips as he intently studied her hands. Before she could sit down, he flung his office door open and stepped outside. "Miss Y/N?" His voice startled her, causing her to jump. "May I speak to you privately for a moment?" She nodded and watched him turn and walk back into his office.

He was waiting for her just inside the door frame. When she stepped in cautiously, he pushed the door closed and motioned for her to take a seat. She did so promptly, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. She found herself unable to look up from her hands. "It's nice to see you again, Y/N." Before he approached her, he quickly shut the blinds on his windows so that he could proceed freely.

"It's nice to see you again, too, sir." She said in that same shy voice. He ambled towards his desk, stopping when he was in front of her. She realized she was avoiding eye contact and looked up. "May I ask what this is about?" He smiled at her blunt question and began to unbutton his suit jacket.

"Of course." She watched him peel his jacket off, fold it neatly, and place it on his desk. Max placed his hands in his pockets and put on his kindest smile. "Do you remember what happened the last time you were here?" This made her skin tingle as she remembered.

"Yes, sir. I do." She had only dreamt about it every night since. He nodded and walked around to the other side of the desk.

"So do I. And do you remember why I asked you into my office that day?" He placed his fingertips on the surface of the desk and leaned forward, waiting for her answer.

"I believe you mentioned a promotion, sir."

"That's right, I did. Good memory. Of course, we didn't exactly get around to discussing the promotion, did we?" She began to feel flushed as she shook her head. "I would like to finish our original conversation, if that is alright with you." She let out a small breath.

"Of course." Max gave her another warm smile which she offered in return. He began to unbutton the sleeves of his tight dress shirt, rolling them up to his elbows. She swallowed thickly as she watched his fingers. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed the way he looked as he showed off his powerful forearms, his shirt tight against his frame.

"As I have said many times in the past, what we sell here is dreams, right? We help people achieve more. That's why they buy from us because we are giving them something that is bigger than themselves." His hands moved fluidly as he spoke, illustrating the point he was trying to make. "Of course, I need people on my team that are going to help me achieve that goal. That's why I want you, Y/N, in a position with a little more power. I can tell that you are a dreamer. You are someone who believes in what we do and that is one of the most important things I can ask for. There is something very special about you." Max wished she knew how true his words were. He wasn't just spouting his normal sales bullshit. There was something special about her and he wanted her on his team. So, why didn't he want to change her?

Y/N watched him intently as he spoke, hanging onto each word. She found herself enchanted by him, feeling her heart twinge when he told her she was special. Max let out a sigh and came around the desk to sit next to her. As she watched him come down to her level, she felt a warmth begin to grow between her legs. When he sat with her like this last time all she felt was nervous, but something had changed in the last week. There was something more electric and tangent between them now that made her ache. She wondered if he could feel it, too.

"I like you, Y/N. You're a very capable young woman. I want to see you succeed." Warmth radiated between their bodies and Max could feel his resolve slipping away. "Is that something you want?" It was now or never. All she could do was nod, her breath trapped in her chest. He took a deep breath and moved closer, scooping her hand into his. His head was immediately swimming with a million thoughts that he tried to push away. Her neck was so close now. Just one bite and all of this would be over. "I want to help you." He whispered, leaning over so that his lips were hovering right above her neck. "I want to make you better." Finally, he pressed his lips against her neck and the feeling consumed him. Her pulse was beating wildly against him, the warmth of her skin shooting straight down to his cock. He felt himself twitch as he breathed in her scent. Without a prayer to stop it, he felt his aggression melt away into need as he began kissing the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes, leaning away to give him better access. His lips explored her, taking in everything. He let his tongue press against her before sucking her neck lightly, leaving purple spots in his wake. He then brought his hands to her face, bringing their lips together. She let out a small whimper as his tongue played across her own. In that moment, he allowed himself to say what he had been denying all week. "I want you." All she could manage was a small nod and he laughed at her pitiful attempt at consent. "What was that?" He pulled away from her.

"I want you, too."

"Good girl." That was exactly what Max needed. He brought his lips back to hers as his hands trailed down to her breasts. Y/N let out a moan as he pinched her nipples, which were already hard. He travelled beneath her shirt to gain better access. He growled sharply at the feeling of her warm, pliable flesh beneath his hands. They both stood up, needing to be closer. Max's eyes drank in the sight of her as he wasted no time ripping her shirt off over her head. She wore a black lace bra which did a terrible job of covering her. He bit his lip harshly as he admired her.

"Was this for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes." She mumbled, her answer inaudible as she looked at the floor. Max took her jaw in his hand, pulling her up to meet his gaze.

"Speak up." He demanded. "Confidence is key, darling." She laughed lightly.

"Yes. Ever since you kissed me I've been dressing up, hoping you'll notice me."

"I already notice you. It's not just that, is it?" She shook her head as he looked at her. "You wanted me to fuck you. A kiss wasn't enough, was it? You needed to feel me deep inside of you, making you scream my name as I make you mine. Isn't that right?" His words took her breath away completely. "I said, isn't that right?" He said louder now.

"Yes, sir." He nodded, grinning widely.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to give you exactly what you want." Still holding her jaw, Max brought their lips together, running his tongue along the inside of her mouth.

Y/N grasped at him wildly, trying to anchor herself. He felt her spinning out of control and held onto her shoulders tightly. "Come here. Let's see how wet that little pussy is for me." He pressed himself against her back, leading her forward. He took both her hands in his before pressing them solidly against the surface of his desk, bending her over. Admiring her ass which was on display for him, Max ran both hands along her skirt.

Y/N folded her arms in front of her, resting her head against them as she felt him pull her skirt up over her ass. His hands were big, caressing her skin so nicely. Max hissed as he explored her flesh. Every piece of her body was warmer than the last, driving him insane. She wore a pair of lace panties that matched her bra. It was a nice touch that made him smile. He hooked a finger into them, pulling them aside so he could access her. He pressed his finger against her slit, drawing it slowly all the way down to her clit. The contact pulled a small whine from her lips. Max rubbed his finger back and forth against her folds, collecting her wetness. He brought his finger to her lips which she eagerly sucked clean. "See how wet you are for me? Do you want more?" She nodded frantically, his finger still in her mouth. He pulled it away, bringing his hand back down to where she needed him most. He teased her entrance with a finger, which made her moan. He pushed into her as deep as he could, moving in and out of her with ease. Her fingernails dug into her forearms as he added another finger. The sensation was electrifying as he moved quicker and quicker.

"Does that feel good? Do you like the way I finger this tight little pussy?" His words made her walls clench around him tightly.

"Yes, sir." He added another finger which made her mouth gape. He kept the same fast pace, groaning loudly at the feeling of her. She was warm and slick and her moans only invited him deeper. His cock was rock hard now, straining against his tight pants. He curled his fingers upward, hitting the perfect spot inside her. "You feel so fucking good. I love the way you feel." Max pulled out of her without warning, causing her to whimper at the loss of him. He knelt down behind her, bringing his lips forward to her slit. He kissed her sensitive clit, sucking on it lightly. She tasted exquisite, better than blood. Better than anything. He lapped her up eagerly, enjoying the way she dripped for him. His tongue flicked along her slit to her entrance, delving inside her. He bobbed his head back and forth so that he could fuck her with his tongue. She sounded heavenly, calling out his name as she rocked back against his face. One of his hands gripped her waist while the other worked at taking out his cock. Once he had released himself, he began lazily stroking himself in time with each thrust of his tongue, causing him to groan. The sound vibrated in her clit, making it nearly impossible not to scream. "How does that feel, sweetheart? Do you like my tongue inside you?" He asked between licks.

"Yes! Oh, god yes!" She gasped before biting down on her forearm. He smiled against her.

"Are you going to cum for me?" She mumbled a yes through her teeth, embracing the warmth that was building in her stomach. "Do it. I want to feel you gush on my tongue. And when you're done, I'm going to fuck this sweet little pussy. Do you want that darling?" She could only nod now. "Good. Then cum." It only took a few more long licks before she came apart against his mouth. He used both hands to hold her hips steady as he helped her ride through her orgasm. She twitched as she came down off her high. Max took his mouth away, standing up behind her. "Did you like that, darling?" She knew her voice was useless and stuck with a small nod. He leaned down, pressing his body flush against hers. "Taste yourself on my lips, sweetheart." She obliged him happily, turning her head to kiss him deeply.

Max pulled away, taking her with him as he helped her stand up. She leaned against him, not trusting her legs. Holding her close to him, he made quick work of clearing a spot off his desk for her. When he was done, he turned her around and helped her lay on her back. Max couldn't help but take a moment to enjoy the view; his human employee laying on his desk, legs spread wide for him. "Fuck, you look good enough to eat, sweetheart." He bit his lip, giving his cock a few strokes. She looked up at him through heavy lids, waiting patiently for him. He took a moment to pull her panties off, throwing them into his chair. He didn't want any obstacles. Max stepped forward, lining his cock up with her entrance. "Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She nodded eagerly. He didn't wait another second before slipping the head of his cock into her. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to get accustomed to the warmth of her slick pussy wrapped around his thick cock. It was almost too much for him. She watched him get lost in the ecstasy. When he was ready, he pushed his hips forward until he was fully seated inside her. She moaned as she felt him stretch her open. Max brought both of his hands to either side of her head, steadying himself. Both of them were in silent awe at the feeling of being so closely intertwined. Her warmth enveloped his entire being as he stood there, buried deep inside of her. He opened his eyes, locking them with hers as he pulled slowly out of her before pushing back in. "You feel so good. Fuck, Y/N! You're driving me fucking crazy." Standing back to his full height, Max played with her clit as he pumped slowly in and out of her. She became lost in the pleasure, knowing nothing but him. He began to quicken his pace, thrusting in and out of her harshly. He rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts, causing her hips to jerk upwards against him. He brought a hand to hold her hip down tightly against the desk. "Do you like that? Like when I rub this aching little clit? Am I going to make you cum?" His thrusts became faster, delving into her even deeper now which made her cry out. Their skin smacked together crudely, the sound echoing around the office. They knew that everyone outside could surely hear them but they didn't care as they both felt their orgasms building. Max's thrusts became sloppy as he got close. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum. God, you're going to make me cum so hard, sweetheart." His words were all the encouragement she needed as his fingers worked her clit aggressively. She released around his cock as he worked her through her orgasm. He gritted his teeth tightly as he gave her one last sharp thrust before pulling out. She brought a hand up to stroke his cock hard until thick ropes of his cum coated her stomach. She continued to stroke him as he came down from his high, milking every drop of cum he had onto her stomach.

They both panted heavily, heads spinning from the pleasure. Max tucked himself back up, zipping his pants as he went to find something in his office to clean her up with. He was lucky enough to find a box of tissues in the corner and made quick work of wiping away the mess he'd made. When she was certain she wouldn't pass out, she sat up and Max helped her off the desk. "That was amazing, Y/N." He commented as she picked her panties up and slid them on. "I've never felt anything so extraordinary." She rolled her eyes a bit and walked towards the door to retrieve her shirt. He watched as she finished dressing herself, crossing his arms.

"You flatter me, sir." They both let out a light laugh. She turned to leave and Max reached out to grab her wrist before she could.

"Where are you going?"

"Wasn't that all you wanted?" He was taken aback by the question. Had he come across as that much of an asshole to her?

"No." She raised her eyebrows at him. "I want you to be my personal assistant." She shook her head, trying to gather her wits.

"Right ... the promotion." He smiled warmly.

"Do you accept the job?" She contemplated the offer. This definitely wasn't what he'd had in mind when she came into his office, but especially now he knew there was no way he could bring himself to change her.

"Yes, of course." She replied with a grin.

"Good. I'm glad. I'll debrief you on your duties tomorrow but for now, you can go home early. I think you've worked enough for today." She giggled at this and nodded. She turned towards the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and letting herself out. Max watched as she disappeared, his head spinning. For the first time in his life, he had met someone who was a better human than they were a vampire. Right then and there, he knew he would do anything to make sure it stayed that way. Maybe Max didn't mind losing control after all.

Tags: @zeldasayer @talesfromtheguild @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @bobafvtt @lannister-slings-and-arrows @madadlorian @otherthingsinhead @readsalot73

#max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #max phillips smut #vampire #my first time writing smut

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cheemerthelizard · 4 years

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May I request Jonathan, Jotaro, and Dio headcannons with their girlfriend? She used to not really get along with her mother, and used to get into really bad arguments, occasionally getting physical, and she would just end up forgiving her mother for everything she does right after she does it, and therefore forgives everyone who does her wrong. Whenever someone gets upset and even slightly moves she flinches, and is completely confused when someone apologizes to her.

No lie, I woke up at four in the morning, saw this in my inbox, and worked on it until eight thirty. Sometimes I can write a thousand words a minute, sometimes I can barely think of a storyline, who knows what’ll happen? To those of you waiting on yours to be done, I am working on them I promise.

Jonathan:

-You and Jojo were going into Ogre Street to find the apocrathy that sold Dio’s replacement “medicine” for Jojo’s father, when someone (not Speedwagon) comes and jumps the two of you.

-Of course, this is 1800’s England, so he jumps the girl first, since he assumes she can’t fight back.

-That was a grave mistake.

-When Jojo punched the criminal in the stomach, he started begging for mercy and apologizing profusely.

-“It’s okay, Jojo, just let him go.”

-Jojo was very confused. He hadn’t even gotten your stuff back.

-“He said he was sorry, so I forgive him. Let him go.”

-When the whole fiasco with the man who jumped you made Jojo realise that you must have been given a false perspective of when someone is actually sorry, and how much they should repent for their actions. He still made sure that any stolen belongings were returned, and then tried talking to you about realizing how sorry someone really is.

-“You see, that man was only apologizing to get out of trouble. He wasn’t sorry that it happened; he was sorry that he got caught.”

-When the two of you eventually do come across Speedwagon, Jojo decides to use him as a good example of when to forgive someone.

-“See? That man was truly sorry for his actions. He made sure that none of the other men harmed us, because he wanted to repay us for his wrongdoings. That’s when you can forgive someone.”

-Obviously, it’s going to take more than these two encounters for you to break out of your habit, but that’s okay, because with Dio and his followers, you’ll have plenty of time to figure out.

Jotaro:

-You and Polnareff were cowering in fear over Alessi, who had turned you both into children.

-If it weren’t for Jotaro, both of you would have been killed.

-Once Polnareff was back to an adult, and you your regular age, both men started giving that man what he deserved: a hard beatdown.

-Of course, this made you try and pull both of them away.

-“Stop! Stop! It’s okay! I’m back now, there’s no reason to beat him up!”

-Jotaro was left dumbfounded. How could someone just let that creep get away with something like that?

-He soon realized that somewhere in your childhood, someone treated you wrong, and made you soft.

-Not that softness was a bad thing most of the time, it’s just that… to this degree? Yeah, it was a bad thing to forgive someone so easily after making you a literal child so that you would be easier to kill off and almost getting away with it.

-For that reason, he asks you to punch Alessi, just once.

-Just as he expected, you instantly say no.

-However, he insists that you give him one hard punch, just one. It’ll make you feel better.

-With as much strength as you can muster, and closed eyes, you feel your fist connect to a cheek, and sigh with relief before promptly crying.

-Poor Jotaro doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he just lets Polnareff beat up Alessi while he tries his best to comfort you.

-“I just feel awful for hurting another human being, and I never want to do that again.”

-“Hey, you did good. I’ll bet that punch hurt him at least a little bit.”

-“That’s what I’m so worried about!”

-“Nevermind, nevermind. I think it did next to nothing.”

-“Next to? So you’re saying it still hurt him?”

-Eventually, you calmed down, and Jotaro hugged you tightly, telling you that you deserved much better than for your judgement of a person to be swayed by just one apology that wasn’t even sincere.

-Just like with Jonathan, you’ll have plenty more encounters with Dio’s followers so that you’ll eventually learn not to just give someone mercy on a whim.

Dio (idk if you want part 1 or 3 so I’ll just make one that can work with both):

-One of Dio’s lower subordinates was starting to get jealous of how much attention his master was showing you, when you didn’t even do anything in the first place.

-He was planning on killing you, and making it look like an accident, so he might get some attention for his hard work.

-However, right before he had you in his grasp, you noticed him and screamed.

-It didn’t take long for Dio to find you, backed up against the wall, being cornered by his loyal follower.

-“What do you think you’re doing?!”

-The man froze, shivers sent down his spine from Dio’s voice alone.

-“Do you think, that even for a moment, I would let you even DARE to lay a hand on my (Y/N)?”

-The man gulped, knowing he was in for it.

-In an instant, Dio had his follower in his grasp, draining all of the blood from him.

-This, of course, terrified you.

-“Dio! Stop! I forgive him already! You don’t need to do this!”

-“Darling,” Dio said with a sneer, “he tried to harm you. Anyone who tries to harm you deserves nothing other than the fiery lake of Hell!”

-Once there was no blood left in his subordinate’s body, he turned back to you, breaking down in tears.

-Oh. He did not think this through.

-He decided to hold you in his arms, making you feel better. Thanks to his charisma, whenever he asked about why you were so quick to forgive others, even when they did you so much wrong, you told him everything. About your mother, about how she argued with you all the time, about the times it got physical, and every detail you could remember about the most vivid memories.

-Dio was furious. He asked why you hadn’t asked for him to get your revenge yet.

-“Same reason I begged you to show mercy to that guy.”

-Now Dio got it. You weren’t over it. You would never be over it, so long as you were human, at least.

-That’s it! He thought of the perfect way to help you. He told you to stay where you were, because he had a special surprise for you.

-When he got back, you saw a strange-looking mask in his hands.

-“This is the mask that got rid of my humanity,” Dio explained. “With even just a drop of blood, you can become like me. Then, all of your problems will be gone. Human resolve will always be flawed. I can make you more than what you are. I can let you live forever with me. I can make it so you won’t feel the need to forgive so easily.”

-His words were smooth, and very convincing. With the way he talked, who wouldn’t want to become a vampire? Plus, you did want to overcome this whole forgiveness issue, and you did want to live with Dio forever. You instantly agreed, and Dio gave you a smile.

-“I just want you to know, it hurts at first, okay dear? But the pain quickly subsides, and it’s very much worth it.”

-When you put the mask on your face, Dio cuts open his skin with his long fingernails and uses some of his blood to smear. Just like he said, it hurt at first. The pain was almost unbearable. But, soon after, you felt nothing. No, literally nothing. Not even the floor. You were completely numb, almost as if you were dead. Then, starting from your face, you felt an incredible amount of power seeping through your veins, allowing you to stand back up with ease. You removed the mask from your face, feeling the brush of your new fangs against your lips. He had done it. You were a vampire now. None of your human-like setbacks bothered you anymore, and you had Dio to thank.

-“Now, darling, how about that revenge on your mother?”

-“I’d gladly appreciate it.”

#jonathan joestar #jotaro kujo #dio brando #jonathan joestar x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #dio brando x reader #jjba #jjba x reader #headcanons

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

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Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a little bit of an unusual fic. Not sure how you feel about writing smut, but I would really enjoy reading a Dwayne/ Star one where Dwayne is very dominant and very teasing/taunting with Star. Again I know it’s an unusual pairing but I just think those two are very sexy together 😜 especially the way that he’s so big compared to tiny, petite Star lol. But again, if you’re not comfortable with it it doesn’t even have to be full smut!

So!!! This ask has been living in my head rent free for the past couple of days and I hope you enjoy!!! (Just a ps. I don't necessarily characterize Star as a straight sub so be aware of that before reading)

Just a Crush (Dwayne x Star) fic

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1704

Star didn't know when it had developed. The boys weren't necessarily mean to her, but ever since she'd rejected vampirism they hadn't been the same. They used to be her friends. Now, she was an unfortunate fifth wheel. Between Marko outright ignoring her, Paul dismissing her, and David constantly acting as if she hadn't made up her mind, Dwayne was her only solace. He talked to her as much and basically the same as he had before, which hadn't been much. Still, he was always kind to her.

Perhaps that's why she'd started to develope a crush on him. It was just something small, and she knew it was only because he was the nicest out of the four. She never even planned on doing anything about it, and she knew it was silly to begin with. He was just nice. It was the only explanation as to why she would sometimes find the brunette running through her mind, or why her gaze would rest on him a little bit longer before she left for the pier. It's just a crush. That's all.

Those were the exact words that left her mouth that night.

The boys had gone out again after their hunt, having cleaned themselves up. They were ready to get back out there and cause chaos. Her mind had drifted to the brunette for only a moment, barely lingering on the details of his face. The quirk of his eyebrows, the curve of his lips. She had to admit, while she mostly liked him because he was the nicest, it helped that he was attractive. She was usually so careful to keep those thoughts to herself, away from prying minds.

Star had planned for a quiet night at the cave, having put Laddie to sleep already, when someone caught her wrist.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but she calmed when she turned and saw the other brunette. He was smiling at her, though it was small and almost not noticable. The firm grasp on her wrist loosened, and his large hand dropped her wrist. She was quick to replace his hand with her own, holding it to her chest. She could still feel the coldness of his fingertips, even when her hand wrapped around it. She was quick to say,

"Oh, jesus, Dwayne. You scared me. I thought-" But he, surprisingly, interrupted her. His voice was a low rumble, like a roll of thunder, when he said,

"That I left?" He finished. And like that, a sudden realization hit her. She had forgotten that the boys could read minds, and that Dwayne had a habit of communicating mainly through their mind-link. She clammed up, and a larger smile spread across his face. He took a step forward, and Star had to crane her neck to look at his face. She refused to step back and tried to keep her mind blank as she watched him look her over, searching for a flutter of an expression that would betray what she was feeling. She was immensely embarrassed, and her mind would've been a rush of wondering if he had heard her if he hadn't said, "You've been thinking about me a lot lately."

Just like that, she knew. She knew that he had heard her. He tilted his head, a smile still plastered onto his face, and he took another step forward. While he had been close before, now he was unbearably so. Another inch and they'd be pressed chest to chest. She tried to fight the blush that was climbing up her cheeks, and she kept her voice level as she said,

"Why didn't you go out with the others?" She asked, trying to change the subject. Perhaps he had forgotten something. Perhaps he would be leaving in a few minutes and she could be embarrassed in peace.

"Seemed like it'd be more fun to stay home." He said, and part of her resolve broke. He reached for her waist, placing a hand there. But he didn't try to reach or grab. It seemed he had done the action just to make her flustered. While Dwayne was the kindest, that didn't mean he was immune to teasing. It seemed he planned on doing so the entire night. Or at least until she admitted it. She flushed red then, and she balled her hands up in fists. Star was never quite so easily pushed over by the boys, and she tried to defend herself, and cut the teasing short, by saying,

"It's just a crush. That's all." And Dwayne's lips pressed closed. As if he was trying to hide his smile. He ducked down a bit, his dark brown eyes mirroring hers. He was so close it was nearly making her breath hitch.

"A crush, huh?" He whispered, his tone just slightly teasing. The deepness of his voice and the way he stared at her made her feel small. She couldn't help but look over his handsome face. She didn't think he'd ever been this close to her before, and his scent was nearly overwhelming. "That's all?" He echoed, and she stared at his lips. Her voice was just as quiet as she whispered,

"Yeah." And then there was a small pause before Star was reaching out. He was pulling her closer just a moment faster, and the two crashed into eachother. Dwayne was never nearly as rushed as he was at that moment, but Star wasn't letting him take the lead. Her kiss was hungry and her hands had woven their way into his hair, already pulling. He was surprised when she licked into his mouth, but his own tongue was quick to greet hers. Quick to battle her back.

Even when he took her to her bed, the pair careful to be quiet, she was cupping his face and holding him. Almost as if she was trying to guide him. Dwayne grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. Dwayne was almost never quite as dominant as he was now, but it was the simple act of her not letting him have the lead, of her pushing back and trying to lead him, that made him snap. He was able to hold both of her wrists in one hand, and the other was quick to shed the clothing separating them. His kiss was dominating and slow, but her legs had wrapped tight around his waist. Even when he palmed at her chest, tugged and twisted her nipples, or dug his hand in-between them to tease her, she still didn't submit. Even when he whispered,

"Just a crush, huh?" She simply tried to draw him back into a kiss. She silenced all of her moans and noises with his lips, and she rolled her hips down against his hand. She was pulling him closer, testing him, and it wasn't until he slipped inside that her fight for control finally faltered.

She let out a small, breathy gasp, and the way her back arched made all of it worth it. Dwayne smirked, and he set a slow, steady pace. He didn't hold back any strength, knowing that, whether she was willing to accept it or not, she had the same ability to heal as they did. Every sound he managed to pull from her lips was music to his ears, and he couldn't help but tease her relentlessly for it.

"Have you thought about this before?" He asked her once, and he was answered by a flurry of thoughts in her mind. He laughed, the hand holding her wrists tightening as he reached to grab one of her legs. He held under her knee, hiking her leg up so he could drive himself deeper. Make her moan louder. "You gotta keep quiet, Star." He taunted, even though he was the reason she was struggling.

"Shut up." She responded, earning a laugh from the brunette. He mouthed at her jaw, grazing his teeth against her neck as he sucked hickeys into her skin instead. Star let her eyes flutter closed, desperately trying to bite her lip as each thrust sent shockwaves up her spine.

He let her wrists go, but only so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. He pulled back, lifting her up and sitting back on his knees. He had her in his lap, his member still nestled inside her and driving her crazy. He lifted her hips up and down with easy, spearing himself inside her while she desperately clung to him. She buried her face into his neck, clutching his shoulders and hair as he whispered into her ear,

"You know, the boys will be back soon. I'm sure they'd love this surprise. Especially David." He taunted, his words almost malicious. They made her whimper, but she could barely think to form a response as Dwayne moved her hips faster and faster. Her orgasm was building, and her nails were digging into him painfully as he continued, "Though, I like having you all to myself." He said, and his voice was breathy. It was the only signal that he was close, and he ran his hand down her side. His calloused fingers feeling the softness of her skin. He dug his hand into her wild tresses of brown curls just to pull her back. To connect their eyes before he said, "Come for me, Star. C'mon, I wanna see you come." Just before the waves of her release crashed down onto her. He saw the pleasure fill her features, heard the beginning of her cry. But he was quick to clamp his mouth over hers, to silence her before her sounds could reach their crescendo.

He pushed her past her own release, until he was coming himself and groaning softly into her mouth. Her tongue massaged his as he came down and he lowered her back onto her bed. The two laid down besides eachother, lightly panting and wrapped up in a half-embrace. Both of them had gone back to being quiet, the only sound between them being their labored breathing. It was Star that broke it.

"Yeah," She started, pushing her curls out of her face. Dwayne looked over at her, a little confused as to what she was talking about until she finished, "Just a crush."

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #star the lost boys #the lost boys star

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