#and then! sleep! and maybe light gambling

[b4kuch1n]

HAPPY YEAR OF THE CAT!!!

happy year of the cat!! 🐱🐈🐱🐈🐱🐈🐱🐈🐱🐈🐱🐈

#ask #linkedsoul #bakuspeech #hi it's lunar 1st! I ate well! a 2hr car ride but otherwise preddy good #now Im gonna get some work done. I should at least finish blocking out the base colors for this one #and then! sleep! and maybe light gambling #tho I have no hope of winning against this crowd... #hope ur lunar new year's goin well too!! hope ur eating good food and having good time. #have a good rest of the day! and the one after too!

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Part 2 to how the group cannot fathom how you and Zuko are so close with your angel of a self and Zuko being... well, Zuko

AN: OKAY! Look at me go, coming out with a part two. I think I might do a part two to some previous pieces of mine but we will see.

SO this is a part two, so you can read the first one here, it will give some context clues into this second part of the story (but can probably be read solo) : Part 1

Any who, ~2300 word count, enjoy :)

KIDDIE FREE ZONE

Good Friends

That's all you guys were. Good Friends. Zuko kept telling himself he had no reason to be so bothered by that statement, but he was. He didn't want to be just good friends, but you had given a better answer then he would have in your position. But now the Gaang has been flying for the past couple days and has given him lots of time for thinking. Especially having you for the majority of the time sitting with him leaning against his arm, grazing legs, as you were not shy to the general touch. You always seemed to start up the conversations with him, your way of speech held him in interest, but as already known, he never said much back, but always was happy to listen.

But ever since that last night of camp a few days ago he cannot let the thought go. Good Friends. He knew that the talks you two have, the moments you both cherish, and the secrets you two shared was enough of a connection to be more than just good friends, or at least in his mind it was. You two were absolutely glued to the hip, and seemed to be together, just without the title. Zuko was fine with no title, he would rather the group didn't know but for you two to have that clarity is what he was craving. He knew there were other things that were more important at the moment but it couldn't calm down in his mind. He had to know, he wanted to be together. Even if that became another secret you both shared he would gladly add it to the pile.

As the afternoon began to fall fast on the fourth day of travel, the Gaang was running low on rations and decided to hit the next market in the upcoming town. Upon arrival, Aang and Sokka grabbed Zuko to tackle their list as Katara and Toph grabbed you to get the remaining items. Zuko was hoping to buddy up with you but it would have to wait. As the group divided and conquered, Sokka was getting very nosy with Zuko about a certain someone. Zuko ignored all of his questions or what felt like more accusations. Meanwhile the girls had finished with their tasks and Toph had somehow gotten into a gambling match with the remaining money they had and won every time. You stood back leaning against a nearby wall smiling, not wanting anything to do with the situation but you weren't going to interfere either. You feel a brush against your shoulder and look up to see Zuko, you smile and greet Aang and Sokka. You ask how their huntings went and they all agreed it had gone well. Zuko looked at you and asked if Toph and Katara were seriously gambling the little money they had left. You laughed and were about to answer but before you could Toph came over with a large bag and tossed it at Zuko. He caught it effortlessly, and it jingled heavily. All of the boys eyes widened, and Toph said "We will be sleeping well tonight thanks to yours truly."

The Gaang walked around the town as the night grew darker and the many street lamps glowed near and far, Zuko's mind still buzzing with the taunting thought of good friends. Maybe he was over thinking it and there was already an unspoken agreement you two were together? Or was he being weird and obsessive? Or maybe you had a completely different view on all of it? Or maybe-

His thoughts were cut off by you linking your arm through his and pointing out the beautiful lights, from the shops, to concessions, to the fountains, to the groups of lively people. He looked down at you and for the first time, he wasn't really listening to you. He just looked at you, looked at your smile as if you knew this moment was made just for you. He would forever be in awe at how effortlessly you spoke as if you had already rehearsed it one hundred times. He feels your genuine happiness and spirit in your eyes as you look up at him and he wonders how you hold such grace through everything. All his thoughts left his mind as he looked at you and thought, yeah, that is my girl.

Once the Gaang decided to call it a night, you all looked for an Inn to stay at for the night. There was not much of an option in the small town, so you all entered the closest place and the lady at the front desk greeted you all with a warm smile. Aang went to talk with the lady and brought back a handful of keys. Everyone was confused as he handed everyone their own key and explained that they only had single rooms left for the night. Nobody really complained as everyone seemed they could use some time to themselves. Everyone shuffled into their rooms with quick goodnights, but before Zuko walked through his door, he looked over his shoulder at your direction, and there you were. Walking into your room and almost as if you felt his eyes you looked over your shoulder and stopped for a moment, you smiled at Zuko and gave a small wave of goodnight before stepping into your room and closing the door. Zuko's eyes stayed on your room for a moment longer, before a small tap on his shoulder made him spin around. It was Katara. Zuko was lost for words. Katara smiled and whispered "I won't tell, not that is isn't already so obvious, but you should really talk to her." Before Zuko could respond to her she waved goodnight and walked into her room. He stood in the hallway like a man who was shot and was too afraid to move. He looked back at your door, he felt the longing in every part of his being to just go and knock on your door and say everything he has been thinking just like you do. How you so effortlessly say exactly what you're thinking, that is what he wanted to do. He wanted to tell you what it meant to him to have someone like you become so close to someone like him. He wanted to tell you that the secrets you both shared with each other meant the world to him and he would take them to his very grave if you wished so. He wanted to tell you that every time you smiled it felt like it was for him and him only. But he didn't. He walked back into his room and shut the door.

Zuko got ready for bed and laid down for a few minutes, he tossed and turned and his chest felt so heavy. He let out a sigh as he laid on his back and placed a hand on his chest with the other one behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling. Zuko let out a small grunt of frustration when he got up, deciding to go get some water. He grabbed the bucket from the small table in the room and walked towards the door. Zuko grabbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation and pulled his hand down his face, he went and opened the door and to his complete shock, there you stood. You looked almost as surprised as he did. You both stood in silence for a moment, and for the first time, Zuko spoke first. He asked if you were alright, because the last thing he expected was for you to be standing at his door in the middle of the night. You replied softly, saying you were ok, just had a lot on your mind. You noticed Zuko holding the bucket for water and offered to go with him to fetch some, he agreed. This time you both walked in silence to retrieve the water and walked in silence back to the rooms. You both came to stand outside Zuko's room and he asked if you were sure you were ok, and you replied that you were, probably just over tired. Zuko looked at you and asked you if you wanted to come into his room. You smiled softly and insisted you didn't want to intrude. He didn't respond and just motioned you inside, you accepted and walked in, Zuko shut the door behind you.

Zuko grabbed the ladle and poured you some water while you sat on the bed, he handed you the cup. You smiled and thanked him as you grabbed the cup and took a sip. Zuko sits next to you and rests his elbows on his thighs and looks down between his knees to the floor, he's not sure how he wants to go about tonight. He has no idea where to start, no idea how to talk or truly express his thoughts. He worries about sounding like a bumbling fool compared to your angelic soft spoken way of words. But before he could think further, the bed shifted and you were now directly beside Zuko with your head leaning on his shoulder. He looked up and he knew he wanted this, he wanted to be the one to call you his. He wanted to be by your side every step of the way and watch you regain the pride of being a fire bender. He wanted to have you by his side helping him with the path of change after the comet, and he didn't want to do it as good friends, he wanted to do it together. Zuko took in a deep breath, and asked "Do you really think we are just good friends?" and without a breath missed you replied "I knew your ears were on fire that night." you sat up with that comment, Zuko smirked and chuckled, you two were very close now, mere inches from each other's faces. "But no..." you replied, "I don't think we are just good friends, do you?" Zuko looked into your eyes, they seemed to shimmer the most beautiful shade of amber even with the liminal lighting in the room. "I don't think so either." He replied. Zuko saw your eyes dart to his lips and back to his eyes but the second your gaze connected back with his, he was already pulling you into a kiss. He put his hand just under your ear, along your jaw, pulling you in gently, as if giving you an option to back out. But you didn't, you leaned in and placed your hand on his arm and you kissed deep. Zuko lavished in this moment and if there was any way he could pull you in even closer he would. You pulled away first and looked at Zuko, he looked at you with so many emotions, "We are together." he stated. You smiled so wide and nodded, for the first time you were speechless and practically tackled Zuko to the bed, kissing him so deeply while he gladly reciprocated with the same action. You were straddling Zuko as he effortlessly flipped you over on the bed so he was now on top, you placed both your hands on his jaw and leaned up to give him a small kiss and then laid back down. "Would you stay with me tonight?" Zuko asked, you smiled, "Of course I will, I thought you'd never ask." Zuko rolls his eyes and leans down for a kiss but you halt his actions by asking, "What about the others, they will see me leaving your-" Zuko cuts you off with a soft kiss and after responds "I don't care, they can make their own assumptions." You smile so happily and nod your head, "But, they are going to ask questions-" you started but again Zuko cut you off before you can overthink, "So answer them however you want to, however you feel is right." He leans down and kisses you so romantically, and moves to your cheek, and down to your jaw, and making his way to your neck, you let out the smallest gasp. You could feel tingles all throughout your body, from your fingertips to your toes. This was the moment you were both waiting for, Zuko knew this is what he wanted, he wanted you now, tomorrow, the day after that, the months that follow and the years to come. You were his as much he was yours. He gave himself to you that night as you gave yourself to him. Both vulnerable to one another, savouring each movement, each touch, every breath you both shared. The night was exactly what you both wanted, it was what you both needed.

The next morning Zuko woke up with you laying on his chest and his arms wrapped around you. Both of you spent the morning getting ready and just smiling at each other, no lingering feeling or questions of what ifs. You could both just be together.

It was time to check out and continue the journey, so you both gathered all your belongings and walked to the door. You both stopped and you looked at Zuko, "They are going to ask." you stated, and Zuko looked right back at you, "Then answer." he replied. He opened the door and the Gaang was waiting in the hall. Katara was the first to see you both exit and she tried to hide her smile with a polite hand, the others turned to look and were caught a blank. Zuko shut the door with you standing by his side. You greeted everyone and you both walked towards the group, "What are you all staring at, let's head out." Zuko said so nonchalantly, everyone stood in silence for a second longer and proceeded on like nothing happened.

#prince zuko #zuko #atla #zuko fanfic #zuko x reader #atla fanfic #avatar zuko #grumpy x sunshine #fluff #smut #imagine zuko #imagine #x reader

[kirishwima]

me, about to go to sleep when i see a small light flickering in the corner of my desk

me, realizing its my cactus-shaped jar with fairy lights inside it whose batteries i havent changed in ages

me picking it up only to see the switch for the fairy lights is turned OFF but they still continue to flicker on and off

#im :)))) who needs sleep anyway right #sure would be a horrifying time to think of all the ghost stories ive read over the years #just might take a gamble and sleep w the lights on tonight sjdjdj #mr incredible meme #delete later #burrito talks #i hid the jar behind some of my plants and m just hoping itll stop #i switched the on off switch a couple times before turning it off #maybe it wasnt fully turned to switched off? idk

[kotoku]

Hello! Could I request Aventurine with a musician and singer reader? I'm just imagining them singing to him while he rests.

ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄɪᴀɴ & ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - aventurine x musician and singer! reader

content - a couple headcanons before the small oneshot at the end, pre-relationship to established relationship, mainly fluff but there is some angst i sprinkled in, aventurine having nightmares about his past/trauma, reader comforting him to sleep, gender-neutral reader, comfort fic (?) for aventurine lol

warnings - none, besides some slight angst

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Aventurine’s first encounter with you would be an event that is taking place in a casino that he frequents

↺ You know how bars have those karaoke nights where people can come up and sing? Something like that

↻ When he first saw you performing, he could recognize some of the songs that he overheard from his subordinates and coworkers

↺ They seemed to be fangirling over whoever the singer was, gushing about their appearance and music to each other before noticing Aventurine and skittering off to their work

↺ He didn’t question what they were listening to, returning back to whatever he was doing in the first place

↻ When you started singing on stage, he was enamored with your voice, the lighting of the casino complimenting your looks and making you appear ethereal 

↺ Aventurine couldn’t focus on his gambles for the rest of the night and days to come, distracted by your performances

↻ He started going to the casino on days that you were performing, making sure to get a seat near you to be able to have a closer look

↻ Aventurine often times finds himself daydreaming, lost in the movements of your hands as they played to the tune of your voice

↺ He was lovestruck, but he would never admit that to anyone, maybe not even you…

↻ Unbeknownst to Aventurine, you had noticed his frequent appearances during your appearances and were delighted to have someone of his position enjoy your performances

↺ You’d catch his lingering gazes, the flustered look on his face when he caught himself staring for too long, his stuttered movements when he returned to whoever he was milking money from

↺ You decided to wait a little longer, wanting to see just how long it would take for Aventurine to make his move before you do

↻ Honestly, you would have never guessed that you’d bump into Aventurine after one of your performances, spotting him waiting near the back entrance to where you had some of your equipment stored (it seems you needn’t wait longer for your encounter with him)

↺ He was the first to approach you, clapping his hands and giving you a sly smile

↺ “What a performance. You always know how to put on a show.”

↻ From there on, he’d catch you after you had finished your act for the night, striking up a conversation that could last for hours

↺ You’d end up sitting by the bar with him, talking and laughing the night away as the two of you grew closer and learned more about each other

↺ It wasn’t long until Aventurine asked you out to dinner, a much more romantic setting compared to late-night bar trips

↻ Aventurine, despite his cunning attitude and sly looks, had a much softer and clingier side to him, you discovered further down the line 

↻ When the two of you started sharing the same bed, cuddling and holding the other close, you learned of the frequent nightmares he often experienced

↺ He hated to admit it, in fact, he never wanted you to find out about the nightmares he faced each night

↺ Those unforgiving and relentless nightmares that opened wounds of the past, were never meant to be shown to you but alas, it was only a matter of time before you found out

-----

It was another night that Aventurine had grown accustomed to. Those unforgiving nights when his past had come back to haunt him in the form of nightmares, in which he woke up in a cold sweat and felt his heart beating out of his chest. Invisible hands seemed to tighten around his throat, the fading heat on that damned mark on his neck lingering for a second too long. It almost made him want to scream and cry, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

Not when you were lying peacefully beside him. 

The steady rise and fall of your chest, your incoherent mumbles, and your body heat reassured him that you were there and that you wouldn’t leave his side anytime soon. Yet the shackles of his past still persisted, dragging him into the depths of his own loneliness and despair. 

Aventurine had quietly shuffled off the bed, sitting on the edge while feeling the cool night air filter through the window. He glanced over at a nearby clock and found it to be 1:24 AM, nowhere near daybreak. His shaky hands ran through his hair, eyes shut closed as he tried to stabilize his breathing. 

To his dismay, he felt you move in your sleep, a groggy voice calling out to him from behind.

“…Aventurine..? Are you okay?” 

Aventurine reluctantly looked over his shoulder, plastering that same smile he gave you when the two of you first met.

“Of course, I just needed to use the bathroom.” He lied, yet he knew that you would see through him as you always did. That was the most damning part about you, your ability to read people’s emotions despite any obstacles. 

“…Aventurine, did you have another nightmare?” He heard you speak, your figure moving to sit beside him. He felt your hand gently touch his shoulder, moving to rub comforting circles on his shoulder blades. Aventurine relaxed at your touch.

“I—..sigh… Yes..I did.” Aventurine admitted, his gaze never meeting your own. “It’s the same damn nightmare, nothing special…” 

When his body turned to face yours, you saw the dark circles that began to form from the countless nights he found himself having trouble falling asleep. Your face softened at his disheveled appearance, hands moving to cup his face which he leaned into.

“Oh Aven, you can always tell me when something is bothering you but I’ll never pressure you.” You hummed, fixing his loose strands of hair. “I’ll never leave you to face your troubles alone.”

Aventurine could feel his eyes start to water, but he blinked them away, turning his face to kiss the palm of your hand. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

“Of course.”

There was a brief silence between the both of you but it wasn’t an awkward one. You had moved to let Aventurine lay down, spooning him in your arms which held him close and played with his hair. Although he’d complain about being the little spoon, he would always sink further into your embrace despite his protests. This time, however, he didn’t say a word. 

Aventurine could hear you start to hum a small song, one which he recognized as the song you first performed at the casino. It was a slow and comforting one. Its tunes melted away his previous stress and allowed him to grow lax in your arms.

Your humming combined with the faint sound of your beating heart slowly lulled him to sleep. His eyes started to grow heavy and his breathing had evened. The light strokes of his hair had him leaning towards your touch.

Aventurine could feel himself slipping into the realm of dreams, which would now be filled with scenarios of you. 

At last, his eyes have closed and your humming never ceased, following him into his slumber.

“My thoughts will follow you into your dreams and soothe your worries. Rest well, my dear.”

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - did you guys get the reference at the end? ( ❛ ͜ʖ ❛ )

#writing➠ #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #fluff #musician & singer reader #comfort fic #aventurine having nightmares #lil bit of angst

[nu-suave]

WHO FALLS FIRST, WHO FALLS HARDER? (pt. 2) feat. toji, suguru one, two

word count: 706

summary: who falls first, who falls harder? a/n: sorry i didn’t post the past few days… i did but i made myself angry at what i wrote so i deleted it all. you’ll be missed nanami kento x reader oneshot

Toji falls first, you fall harder. There aren’t many people he’s been able to be completely emotionally and physically vulnerable with; when you first openly offer that and show him no ill will or disdain, he doesn’t believe it. As time passes, though, he comes to accept it as a fact of your character - you simply are a safe person to him, and that’s a very unfamiliar feeling. Things rapidly become a lot more meaningful than he originally intended. He was going to mooch off of you, take a warm bed to sleep in or idle company while he gambled or meaningless conversation at the grocery market. It landslides from there. Physical affection, usually a means to an end, becomes something he genuinely wants. A lot of things about you become wants. He wants to touch you, wants to spend time with you, wants to get you things. It’s hard for him to recognise at first and, in all honesty, freaks him out. He doesn’t see himself as someone made for affection or domesticity or the kind of normal thing romance proves itself to be. It causes him to overcompensate at first - he makes biting comments and is a bit more reserved. He tries to scare you off, almost. He fails.

When you fall, it's about as graceless as Toji was. You’ve been friends for a while now, and in that limbo in between for nearly just as long. He hasn’t flirted with you or tried to push you into a relationship. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s because he thinks you’re too good for him - you deserve better than what he’s currently able to give you. Unfortunately (or maybe, more accurately, very fortunately) for him, you don’t feel the same way. When your feelings for Toji hit you, they hit you hard; you’re doing something mundane, like patching him up (an increasingly common occurrence) or chatting with him while he lazes on the couch, when he makes you laugh and the entire weight of your feelings hit you over a three-second period, leaving you numb with shock. Here’s to hoping you’re more proactive about your relationship than Toji is - you might be left in that period of requited pining for longer than either of you would like, until either you gain the courage to confess or he finishes attempting to pull himself together enough to feel like he can be something good for you.

You fall first, Suguru falls harder. He has a kind of effortless charisma that initially draws you to him; he’s charming, likeable, conscientious, and good looking to boot. You know from the very beginning that he’s the kind of person you usually fall for - you’re not wrong. It’s a spark that lights quickly, and it’s a gradual blurring of feelings until you look back on the early days of your friendship and wonder if there was ever a time you weren’t in love with him. He’s thoughtlessly respectful, never stepping over or pushing your boundaries - and sometimes picking up on them before you even need to say anything. It’s like he’s just tuned into your behaviour, and never crosses a line that’d make you uncomfortable. You never feel lesser in his presence or like you’re second place, even as you battle Satoru for his attention. Just by existing, Suguru makes the people around him feel heard.

When he falls, it’s over the course of a conversation. You’re both out with your friends, and Suguru is noticeably checked out of the conversation; he doesn’t talk much, is keeping to himself in the corner, replying to any attempts to engage him unenthusiastically. You pull him aside, asking how he is and if you want to ditch them together so he can get some fresh air. He does. During that night, it mounts and mounts; you engage him in light conversation, at some point just sitting beside him and not saying anything at all. You’re just there, an unobtrusive presence. It’s more comforting than you know, and as you bid each other goodbye at the end of the night, it hits him - how long has he been feeling this way about you? How long have you been this silent support for each other?

i really hate suguru's part lmao

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader

[karlyboyyy]

In all seriousness, I really do think it’s entirely plausible that Kazuki and Rei can (and/or will) fall in love with each other, but I don’t necessarily see them as suddenly looking at each other with attraction and having that “why am I having these thoughts about another man?!” panic moment that seems to be a common trope in anime whenever gay romance is involved. Their relationship isn’t that simple. No, I think it will happen over time in a more subtle way. And I feel like we’ve already begun to see this unfold.

In episode 7, we learn that Kazuki struggles with his grief of losing his wife and unborn child, all while feeling overwhelmed and under-appreciated for all he does for Rei and Miri. He then tries to have a night of fun by gambling and surrounding himself with women, all things he would normally enjoy. But by the end of the night, he’s still miserable. Then he has the conversation with his sister-in-law, and we find out that he feels guilty about moving on and finding happiness for fear of forgetting his past love. But she reassures him that it’s okay to continue living his life. It’s what her sister, his wife, would want. And a small weight is lifted from his shoulders. And when he finally goes back home, and finds a sick Miri sleeping peacefully with a clearly-worried Rei sleeping at her bedside holding her hand, we see Kazuki gazing fondly at the two of them. The look on his face says “These two are my happiness.”

And I think that realization will continue over time. Now that Kazuki no longer feels as guilty about moving on, I think he’ll start to really see Rei as family. As someone he can build a life with. Someone he enjoys spending time with. Someone he truly loves and cares for. And a day will come when maybe he’s out running errands while Rei is at home with Miri, and a woman starts talking to him. Kazuki doesn’t think anything of it at first, but then he realizes she’s hitting on him… and surprisingly, he doesn’t feel any particular way about it. In fact, his mind instead wanders to “I wonder what Rei and Miri are doing. I better hurry back home.”

And Rei… he’ll start to open up more around Kazuki, and show his vulnerabilities. He’s already started doing this with Miri, but I think we’ll begin to see him telling Kazuki more about his past. Maybe not even in a dramatic reveal type of way, but more so in off-hand comments or random stories that he suddenly remembers. And without realizing that things have changed so much, he’ll find that he’s truly enjoying his life with Kazuki and Miri, that he can actually laugh about things and feel relaxed. And one night, as he’s trying to fall asleep in his bathtub, maybe he’ll struggle to get comfortable. So he instead finds himself going to Miri’s room and curling up on the floor next to her bed, and quickly falling asleep. Kazuki walks in to find him, laughs to himself, and without even thinking about it, picks Rei up and carries him to bed. Not Rei’s bed, though. No, Kazuki subconsciously realizes that Rei needed the comfort of having someone next to him while he slept, so without a second thought, he brought Rei to his own bed. And when he went to lie down next to Rei, he was careful not to get too close. He didn’t want to disturb him after all, and it’s not like he had any other intentions but to simply sleep near each other. But the next morning, Rei wakes up to find Kazuki’s arm around him. And it doesn’t even occur to him to move Kazuki’s arm. Instead, he just looks at Kazuki’s sleeping face, feels the warmth between them, and thinks “this… is nice actually.”

And eventually the both of them will realize that they would do anything to protect one another, do anything to make the other happy. And maybe one day they’ll start to see each other in a different light. Maybe Kazuki will begin to notice the way Rei’s eyes light up when he gets a new video game, or maybe he’ll see that one piece of Rei’s hair that refuses to stay in the ponytail and think “hah, that’s adorable.” And maybe Rei will start to compliment Kazuki on his cooking more because he knows it makes him happy, or maybe he’ll take Miri shopping to find the perfect birthday gift for Kazuki but ends up getting several things because this thing reminded him of Kazuki’s smile, and this thing is Kazuki’s favorite scent, and this thing reminded him of that inside joke they had, and this thing…

So instead of looking at each other one day and thinking “why am I having these thoughts and feelings about a man?!”, I think they’ll look at each other and think “this feels right. This makes sense. Of course I have these thoughts and feelings about him.” Because at that point, the love is already there.

#i spent way too long on this #started out as my own analysis of the show but turned into a mini fanfic 😅 #anyway these two make me wanna scream #I love their dynamic so much #and I’m excited to see where it goes #even if none of this comes to fruition in the show #I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think their relationship could evolve into something like this post canon #buddy daddies #buddy daddies rei #buddy daddies kazuki #buddy daddies miri #suwa rei #kurusu kazuki #unasaka miri #buddy daddies anime #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #kazurei

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 9 - Partance

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: A tiny touch of spice... some making out, celebrations and some more late-night confessions.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when we find out if their whole gamble pays off... Happy Valentine’s Day! This is my gift to you 🫶 Also, be warned that the rating will increase in the next chapter. 😉 Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

You awaken early to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. A glance into the living room, as you wander downstairs towards the enticing scent, shows the sofa is already rearranged and blankets neatly stowed, as if not slept on at all - a little twinge behind your ribs at Benedict’s forethought around the ruse you shared a bed last night.

Almost reluctant, you enter the kitchen, and there he is, pouring two cups from the cafetière, the sunlight catching the ring on his finger as he does so. Your husband. Benedict Bridgerton. He twists, and you see he is wearing glasses, taking you by surprise. On the table, you spy a newspaper open. You are momentarily embarrassed that you are married to a man you know so little about; you didn't even know he wore reading glasses.

“Good morning,” his greeting is soft but apprehensive. 

“Good morning,” you mumble back, taking the proffered cup from him without quite letting your fingers touch.

Guilt eats at your soul as you take a seat, the creak of the old chair as you sit down seeming so loud in the otherwise silent room - guilt about pushing him too far with kissing, guilt about your confession, as if you burdened his sleeping subconscious with an unfair weight. It makes the need to talk about anything else bubble up within you.

“I had an idea,” you break the silence as he takes a seat. He says nothing in response, just looks at you expectantly. “We could pretend our relationship developed long distance. Say that we met through Eloise a few years ago? But were both with other people at the time. Perhaps we wrote to each other and, over time, grew close? I thought we could write some ‘fake’ love letters this morning. Fold them up, make them look a little old and creased, you know, and then exchange? Carry the letters as if we truly sent them to each other. It doesn't have to be many. Maybe 3 or 4? Backdated, of course.”

As you talk, his face lights up. “It’s brilliant!” he enthuses quietly, whipping off his glasses. “It's the perfect explanation! Then it makes sense I rush to Paris to rescue you! And my sister. The outbreak of war made me realise what you truly mean to me,” he spitballs, talking fast, gesturing animatedly. “It would explain our whirlwind marriage too - that we couldn't live another day apart without…. without being together with the looming uncertainty of war.”

His chair drags loudly across the tile as he stands up rapidly, grabs your hands, and hauls you up and into an embrace, lifting you off the ground and twirling around—a spontaneous celebration.

“You are brilliant!” he exclaims fervently, and then your lips find each other impromptu. A kiss that starts as a mere brush to seal the pact rapidly morphs into something else. Before you know it, your mouths are open, tongues tangled, and he is hoisting you higher in his arms, his hands grabbing your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your nightgown rides up to your hips, the heat of his pelvis crushed against yours through thin cotton pyjamas….

And that is the sight which greets the returning homeowners and Eloise. 

A loud squeak from Marie has you rocketing apart, sliding down his torso back to your feet, cheeks aflame. But it's too late. There is no way to deny what they walked in upon-–you wrapped around Benedict’s body as you kiss fiercely.

“Wow… I miss that passion,” Jerome wisecracks in a bid to break the tension.

Although she is silent, the look on Eloise’s face is one you won't soon forget—shock, abhorrence but a streak of inquisition, as if taking on new information and filing it away. 

You and Benedict both mutter apologies in unison, which seems to charm your hosts even more into good-natured joshing as they unpack croissants and jams from a wicker basket.

“A breakfast for our newlyweds,” Marie chimes with a wink. “I’m sure you need sustenance after a night like yours.”

In some ways, although mortifying, you cannot deny the cinch they caught you in does not exactly hurt the illusion of you being a real couple.

And so you all take a seat and begin breakfast together. Each treat on the table is delicious, and the conversation flows easily.

“You do know Solene will be mad she was not invited to the wedding,” Eloise remarks offhand at one point.

“Pssh! Let me deal with my sister,” Marie counters with an almost stereotypical Gallic shrug and a dismissive chuckle. 

—

With a couple of hours until your sailing, you pack the few things you unpacked in the last couple of days and then turn to letter writing as Eloise reads. You sit outside, a delicate breeze over your sleeves as Benedict joins you. You agree on some dates and then fall silent as you pick up pen and paper and compose letters. 

Yours don't feel sophisticated, but they feel honest - writing about actual events back home and more recently in Paris to lend an air of believability, interspersed with words of affection, longing, and hope to be reunited. Your final letter is dated the day war was declared, expressing a need to see him as soon as possible.

You have no idea what Benedict is writing, but his intensity and speed impress you, pages seeming to pile up around his elbows as you see glimpses of his elegant, looped script.

“I just have much to say, that’s all,” he responds, somewhat enigmatic when you express your concern that his letters appear much longer than yours.

—

Before you know it, Jerome and Marie are dropping you off at the port in Le Havre, hugging you all so tightly with promises of letters, telegrams, and phone calls. You will certainly miss them and Solene; they have been so welcoming to you, even for such a short period.

Benedict wraps an arm around your shoulder as a porter loads your cases onto a trolley and accompanies you to the boarding queue.

“Just like we practised,” he turns his head and murmurs into your ear so only you hear. 

And then he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you, instantly opening your mouth under his, your pulse racing even among the crowd.

“Do you mind?” Eloises hisses, disgust evident on her face.

Breaking the kiss, you giggle and bury your face in Benedict's shoulder as he shoots her his trademark elder brother look of derision.

“Do you want your best friend to come with us to England or not, sister? Because we have to look married and madly in love,” he points out, his arm stroking your back.

“You don't have to swallow her face,” Eloise grouses, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes as she pouts, looking aside.

“The more convincing, the better,” he counters, but their dispute is interrupted by your being called forward to the desk.

After asking for your tickets and passport, the surly young man looks at your passport and frowns.

“Are you planning to remain in the UK?” His ask is terse.

“Yes,” you reply, clear but polite.

“Reason?”

“She is my wife,” Benedict cuts in, that arm back across your shoulders.

“Do you have proof?” the man looks sceptical.

Benedict produces the marriage certificate from a folio in his case. 

The man scans the document, his frown deepening. “You got married yesterday?” His questioning tone raises the attention of others nearby.

Your heart leaps into your mouth as a face you recognise materialises from behind a glass office. It's Theo Sharpe - the young soldier Eloise met in the bistro a few days ago.

“Is there a problem here, Jones?” he asks with an official tone.

“These two just got married. I have concerns…”

Theo peers at Benedict and you as if assessing you as a couple.

“What sort of concerns? They look in love to me…”

“We have letters!” you pipe up, nerves jangling.

“Letters?”

“Love letters we have written to each other over the months.” Benedict takes over. “When war broke out, I had to come and rescue the woman I loved. And then I could not resist proposing. And yes, we married yesterday. Sirs, you likely know better than anyone - war brings clarity to a man’s heart like nothing else. I could not go another day without her being my wife…” his speech is reserved but impassioned, and when he is done, he tucks you under his arm, kissing your forehead. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise frown as he hands over your letters, and you do the same with his from your handbag. Theo takes the pile and unfolds them, his eyebrow rising at something in one from Benedict’s pile.

“Jones, tell me that is not the sign of a man in love,” he tilts the page to his fellow soldier, seemingly pointing to a particular line.

The man coughs and runs a finger into his collar.  “Oh… well… yes…” he seems to stumble, his cheeks heating.

What on earth did Benedict write?

“I think we can safely say they are a real couple, can't we?” Theo argues, refolding the letters and handing them back to you.

“Yes, yes, I think so…” the man agrees hesitantly.

“Well then, please issue the lady with the paperwork for residency,” Theo prompts, almost impatient.

You can barely contain the furl of excitement as the man dutifully grabs an official certificate and transfers your details, passing it under an embossing stamp and placing it inside your passport.

“Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mrs Bridgerton,” he smiles tightly as you see Theo shoot Eloise the briefest of winks behind the man’s back.

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, almost stunned into a quiet silence, as again you are in Benedict's strong embrace. 

“Well done, you were perfect,” he assures a few moments later as you walk up the ramp onto the ferry, his arms never having left your shoulders since. 

With reality finally setting in, relief and elation radiate from inside - like the sunny day seeping into your being, making you feel the lightest you have felt in weeks. You can't help the grin you shoot him and drop a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“All thanks to you,” you demure as you cross onto the deck, “I owe you my life.”

“You owe me no such thing,” he counters immediately and sincerely. “Your idea - the letters - that is what sealed your future. You are much smarter and stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he adds, his tone ardent, a hand tenderly cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your cheek. 

Again, you find yourself lost in his eyes.

“God’s sake, you can quit the mooning now, you idiots,” Eloise gripes and elbows Benedict unceremoniously out of the way, drawing you into a bear hug. “I’m so happy!” she chimes into your ear.

“Me too,” you reply, laughing joyously, hugging her back as fiercely.

“I may have planned for this,” she winks, withdrawing to pull a bottle of champagne from her bag with a flourish. 

And so, as the ferry pulls out of port and enters the English Channel, the three of you raise a toast to France as you watch the shoreline slip away. A kaleidoscope of emotions washing over you - a bittersweet farewell to your all-too-short French adventure, but also excitement and apprehension for the start of something new. A stay in England. And a new husband, well, sort of. For the first time, the future feels completely unwritten in a way that is freeing.

—

When you arrive in Portsmouth that evening, you immediately head for the stately Royal Maritime Hotel by the port. But there is a snag when you get to the check-in desk. The late hour and no reservation means only one room is left—with one double bed. 

“I will sleep on the floor,” Benedict offers, ever the gentleman, as you all accept the room, knowing it's likely a similar story in all the other hotels with this many people escaping mainland Europe.

After dropping your luggage, you all head to dinner, which becomes drinks in a local bar, all of you wanting the celebratory mood to last a little longer. You nurse just one drink while Eloise seems determined to drain the port city dry, tipsily wandering off to the little dancefloor in the back room. 

At some later point, while Benedict is at the bar paying the tab, Eloise returns, sidling up to your seat and loops her arms around you.

“You know how much I love you…?” 

“What do you want, Eloise?” you chuckle, patting her elbow as you let her sway you with her hug.

“I've met someone,” she whispers excitedly, her breath sweetened by brandy, “and I realllllly like him. His name is Phillip. He’s lovellllyyy,” she singsongs.

“That's nice. But what does that have to do with me?” you ask, amused.

“If I were to spend the evening with him, would that be okay? With you?” 

“You've never asked my permission to enjoy your previous dalliances, El; why now?” You are finding her thoroughly entertaining.

“Becaaaaause it means you will be stuck alone in a room with my brother,” she spells out. “And no woman should have to endure that,” she counsels with faux gravity, only mildly undermined by her comedic look of horror.

Your stomach vaults at the idea of a night alone with Benedict in a hotel room, but you must school your face to one of casual indifference.

“El, I shared a cottage with him last night; I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yes… and what in God's name was this morning all about?” she suddenly shifts the topic, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

You do your best not to choke on your sip of cocktail. “We saw you all coming up the path. Benedict thought it best for the ruse if we were caught in a compromising situation,” you bluff, waving your hand dismissively, even as you feel your cheeks glowing at the mere memory.

She side-eyes you momentarily but seems to accept it, giving you one more squeeze before bidding you goodnight. Her farewell to Benedict at the bar appears to be a smack on the arm and a warning with a pointed finger—ever the loving siblings. Then, with a flutter of butterflies under your ribs about the night ahead, you and Benedict head back to the hotel.

“Thank you again,” your tone is sincere as he unlocks the room. “If we had only known Theo would be at the port, maybe we wouldn't have had to go through all we did,” you point out wincingly, still apologetic, as he secures the door closed.

“We did what we had to. We were very fortunate he was there today; it was a wonderful coincidence, but we had to prepare for any circumstance. Besides, it is all water under the bridge now. You have your paperwork. You have your residency,” he points out brightly.

“But you had to marry me….” you point out, unable to let it go, guilt still shadowing your heart. “That was a huge sacrifice.”

“I am not the one who had to break a promise to another,” he counters softly. “You had to be the brave one here. You should not think of yourself as selfish. And you should feel free to pursue whatever you want in this world, y/n.”

Something in the choice of words in his heartfelt petition seems oddly reminiscent, but you cannot pinpoint it.

“I will still sleep on the floor,” he adds reassuringly, removing his coat.

“We… we could share…?” you feel your heart pound as you extend the tentative offer. 

The look on his face is indecipherable, but you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction. “I promise not to kick…” his response is a genial callback to your discussion days ago.

You giggle, feeling that lightness in your being again. “And if you do, I’m sure I could find plenty of rope to remedy that. We are right by a port after all,” you can't help but banter back, gesturing to the harbour outside the window.

His responding warm laugh is like a balm.

He excuses himself to shower, and while he is gone, you unpack some basics. As you are delving in your bag for your hairbrush, the pile of letters Benedict handed you spills out. 

Intrigued, you unfold them—curious to know what Theo had seen. The letters are a thing of beauty; you find yourself crawling onto the bed to read them properly. Pages of lyrically crafted praise that make your correspondence seem entirely lacking, more akin to a boring newsletter. You find yourself swept up in reading - lines of poetry, yearning sentiments and a few racier epithets that make your breath catch and your blood run hot.

‘Every night since we met, my love, I dream of nothing but you. Endlessly. I dream of your laugh, your smile, that wonderful little crease on your forehead when you think I am being foolish. You captivate me - body and soul. I dream of that delectable noise you make when I kiss you. I dream of tasting your skin. I dream of you coming apart in my arms, grasping me so tight you leave finger marks on my body. One day, my love, one day…’

You almost jump out of your skin when Benedict reenters the room, freshly showered, his hair in damp curls, sporting a distractingly fitted white t-shirt. You attempt to conceal what you are reading, embarrassed somehow, but it’s too late.

“I was wondering if you would,” he laughs softly when he realises.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, feeling as if you have snooped somewhere you should not have.

“Don't be,” he cuts in, smiling gently.

“How did you think up such poetic stuff?” you query, fingertips tracing almost reverentially over the words. A wistful ache in your being, hoping anyone would ever be inspired to write such an elegy to you one day.

“I just told the truth,” he shrugs.

“You must’ve been in love with whoever has made you feel like this in the past,” you sigh, standing up to put the letters aside on a table, feeling as if they definitely do not belong to you. Conscious of the slim band around your left ring finger, like a guilty weight stopping him from that possible life.

There is a long pause, making you look up at him. He is drawing near, something profound burning in his expression.

“You,” he breathes finally. “You inspired this in me.”

The confession knocks the breath from your very lungs, almost a need to bend double.

“Wh….” you cannot even find enough voice to finish a simple word.

He moves closer until you are almost touching.

“I heard you…” he admits softly, his fingers encircling your wrist, then bringing your hand close to his face. “Last night, when you thought I was asleep…” a plunge of utter dread in your stomach as you realise what he means. Your confession.

Oh no.

“Benedict, I….” but you can't finish. There is no end to that sentence, even in your quick mind.

“So I thought it was only fair you have mine,” he continues, a flicker of a modest but charming smile as he tilts his head to the pile of letters. 

Your eyes cut briefly to them before darting back to him.

“Y… you dream of nothing but me…?” you stutter, parroting one of the many memorable lines, a flicker of desire and hope and yearning so strong you can't help but ask.

His smile turns crooked. “Every night…” he confirms, eyes glittering.

“A-all of it?” you can barely utter it, your cheeks heating as you recall precisely what he wrote that he dreams about.

“Every word,” he asserts before his warm lips brush the back of your knuckles. 

It's like you are thrown into a hurricane, a hundred thoughts and feelings tumbling, making your breath catch hard in your lungs. But it all converges into one singularity as you stare up into those hypnotic eyes. An overwhelming need coursing through you. For him. A longing that is tart on your tongue and deep in your core. And you are powerless to do anything but grab his neck and pull him down into a searing kiss. 

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spitt @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[spiderispunk]

Insatiable

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warnings: Smut (18+). Oral Sex (f!receiving). So Many Pet Names. Praise Kink. Dirty Talk. A little smidge of domesticity. 

A/N: I blame this one completely on @ussgallifrey​ reblogging that stupid gif of Glen Powell flipping that goddamn toothpick over and over again until I combusted. Thanks for all the inspiration, my friend. This one’s for you! 

If it were up to Hangman, he’d stay between your legs forever. 

It was no secret he loved going down on you. Jake loved the way you tasted. Loved the way you felt under his tongue, and all the pretty, wanton sounds you made when he got his mouth on you. He lived for the shake and sigh of your body, and how you pressed your thighs against the sides of his head to hold him in place (not that he was going anywhere anyways).  

You were his favorite meal. He wanted you anytime, anywhere. 

On the kitchen counter in the morning, when you were still bleary eyed and moved like warm syrup. On the couch during a particularly lazy afternoon, while an innocuous TV show or movie played in the background, long forgotten. After a long day or an operation– though nowadays it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the two. 

Once he’d even pushed you up against the door of the Hard Deck’s bathroom and hastily shoved your dress up your legs. That was fun. You think back on that night often. 

His whispered apologies: I know. I know you’re working, honey, and it’s a bad time. But you look so damn good in that dress and I just have to have you now. Think you can forgive me? The way his green eyes glimmered in the dim light, lips pulled into a smirk, because he knew there was no way you’d tell him no. Not by then, when you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your damp panties. He’d drawn your attention, and your desire, the moment he walked into the door with his friends.

Yeah, Jake “Hangman” Seresin was an insatiable man, but really, you weren’t complaining.  

So you’re not surprised to find yourself tossed haphazardly onto the bed, with Jake worming his way between your legs the moment he gets home. 

“Jake,” you giggle. “Slow down.” 

He grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “Can’t, honey. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” 

“It’s been 9 days,” you gasp, sliding down the bed. 

Jake lifts your leg and kisses your calf. “It’s been too long,” he repeats, a smirk on his face, and a hunger in his eyes. 

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes.

Mischievous eyes lock with yours, lips still dragging up the skin of your leg. “You wound me, baby.” He bites the bend of your inner knee.  “Can’t a man miss his wife?” 

“Miss his wife, or miss something else?” You lift your eyebrows.

Jake chuckles. “Little bit of both.” He rubs his hands down your thighs. “That a bad thing?” 

“‘M not complaining.” You let your legs fall open. 

Jake’s gaze darkens. He trails his hand up your inner thigh, fingers hooking into the front of your small sleep shorts. 

“Y’know how much I love these things,” he mumbles, his voice all gravel. “Did you wear them for me?” 

“Maybe,” you say coyly. 

You had. It was quite a gamble on the timing though. You had a ballpark range for how long the operation was supposed to take, but not an exact return date. Thankfully he had come back tonight, because you’d nearly gone through your entire wardrobe of shorts.

Jake runs his fingers up your calf, fingers rubbing circles on your bare skin. “God, I missed ya,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Jake looks at you like he’s trying to decide where to start. Slowly, meticulously taking his time. You imagine it was how he got when planning out an operation. 

A thousand scenarios play out in his head, and they all end the same, with you coming apart on his cock. Sometimes you’re on your stomach, sometimes you’re on your side. Sometimes you’re a drooling mess, sometimes you come with a whimper. It all ends the same. But how he gets to that point, well, there lies the fun of it all. 

He takes you in, gaze roaming your body like fire. His eyes slide down your body, snagging on your shirt bunched up under your breasts, dragged there when he tugged you towards the edge of the bed. His mouth waters at the bare skin of your stomach and hips. With a little luck, in a few minutes you’ll sport twin bruises on your hip bones from his teeth. 

His lust-blown gaze lingers on your shorts, and the prize that lies beneath them. He tugs at the waistband of your shorts again, with a thoughtful expression that makes something hot twist inside your core. 

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” You bite your bottom lip. 

Jake chuckles. “Oh no, honey. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” 

“How about like this?” You twist your fingers into the bottom of his shirt and pull him down on top of you. 

He leans over you, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Like this?” His fingertips stroke your cheek. 

Your eyes flit down to his lips, mouth going dry. “Uh huh.” 

Jake closes the distance, brushing his lips over yours. What starts as an innocent kiss quickly turns hungry when he slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. You can taste the faintest hint of the spearmint gum he chews, and the coffee he must have drunk to stay awake on the drive home. 

He gently lays the rest of his weight on top of you, molding his body to yours. You arch into the solid mass of his warm chest, feeling anchored there when his arms snake around you. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to grind your hips against his. 

Jake sucks in a breath. One of his hands slides down your back to grasp at your ass, sealing you to him as you slide into a clumsy rhythm. Your lips part, and your warm, dewy breaths fan over Jake’s face. Your soft whimpers, and Jake’s hungry grunts fill the room. It’s desperate and messy, and Jake thinks he might come in his pants then and there like a goddamn teenager. 

With great effort, he unlocks your thighs from his waist, and puts a little space between the two of you. 

Your kiss-swollen lips twist into a pout. 

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon, now would we?”  

Before you can dwell on the loss of friction, Jake’s lips are on the move, tracing a searing path across your jaw and down your neck. His teeth nip at your pulse, tongue laving afterwards to soothe the sting. A breathy whine falls from your lips when he stretches the collar of your shirt to kiss your chest. 

He continues his downward trek, pausing only for a moment to leave wet kisses on each of your peaked nipples. Your stomach receives his attention next– gentle kisses and bites that make it flutter. Hangman reaches your hips, and makes good on his mental promise to leave marks. By the time he pulls away to survey his handiwork, you’re a whimpering, sticky mess. 

Two perfect bruises in the crescent shape of his teeth. He kisses them gently, and tugs down your shorts. 

You are embarrassingly aware of how turned on you are. Your panties stick to the damp folds of your cunt. They literally peel away under his touch. 

“Goddamn,” Jake mutters, total reverence in his voice. “All this for me?” He asks, running the tip of his finger over your dripping cunt. 

“Y-yes.” You nod. 

He sucks his finger into his mouth. “Attagirl.” His eyes flutter shut, and when they open again, they’re nearly black. 

The way he watches you is obscene. It makes your skin hot, and your cunt somehow wetter. It’s too much, this desire that grows within you. And all Jake is doing is watching, as if he wants to goad you into action. 

You close your legs, rubbing your thighs together for some friction, and Jake shakes his head sharply. 

“No.” He clicks his tongue. “None of that.” He kneels in front of you and throws your legs over his shoulder. “Let me look at ya, honey. Just wanna appreciate ya, is all. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you just dripping for me.” There’s an edge of admiration in his tone. 

Jake keeps you on edge with teasing touches. The skate of his fingertips up your inner thigh. The brush of his lips against the bend of your knee. Over and over again, until you can’t take it anymore.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks, with a shiteating smirk on his face. “Talk to me.” 

“You know.” 

“I do.” Jake tips you a wink. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

You glare at him petulantly. 

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what you want.” He leans forward and kisses the crux of your inner thigh. 

“Iwantyourmouth.” You whisper, the words running together until they’re barely recognizable. 

Jake tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

You roll your eyes. “You heard me.” 

“I’m afraid not, pretty girl. Must be all the time I spend around those jet engines.” 

“I said–” The words nearly come out in a whine. “I want your mouth.” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad,” Jake praises. His lips resume their pilgrimage up your inner thigh, tongue sweeping out to taste your skin. 

When his mouth finally touches your clit, you jump. It’s heaven. The warmth of his lips wrap around you. He slurps at you messily, spit and slick mixing in a shine that covers his chin. He savors the taste of you, the one that drives him wild, the one he dreams about when he’s away. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue swirls over you feverishly, hungrily, determined not to let a bit of you go to waste.

Above him, you shudder and shake. Hips lifting to meet his frenzied mouth. His name, among other expletives, falls from your lips. You’re really just babbling at this point, speaking just to speak. Mixing praises with pleas. The sensations feel too good to put into words. 

Jake pushes your legs back, nearly folding you in half. Holding you still as his mouth works you over. One of his hands travels up your body, and two fingers prod at your lips. You suck them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. 

His lips pop off your clit just for a moment to say “Good girl.” You clench around nothing and gush all over his chin. 

You don’t stay empty for long. Those two long fingers leave your lips and fill your cunt. Slowly at first, and then build into a steady rhythm. The curl of his fingers inside you has you seeing stars, reaching places you can’t even hope to find on your own. Each thrust brings another wave of pleasure, throwing you closer and closer to the edge. Your toes curl, your heart hammers your breath stutters, and Jake continues consistent through it all. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart.” Jake groans. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers. Squeezing ‘em so tight. Can’t wait to fuck you.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. That bright beautiful thing builds inside you, and you lurch towards it hungrily, eagerly. Pleading for it to overtake you in its all-consuming glory. 

He knows you’re close. Call it intuition, call it the knowledge that comes with prolonged intimacy. Whatever it is, he knows, and he wants it. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, drunk on you. 

You nod. “Uh huh.” 

“That’s it. Come, baby. Whenever you’re ready,” he coaxes. “Wanna taste you. Want to so bad.”

Jake doubles down on his efforts. Fingers and tongue never stopping their glorious assault. Your body seizes under his touch, ratcheting tighter and tighter until you break. You gasp for air, chest heaving as the dam breaks. 

You’re vaguely aware that you’re sobbing Jake’s name. At least you think you are– you’re so far gone that you could be saying anything. The broken syllables shatter off of the walls, each one going straight to Jake’s cock. 

“There’s my girl, there she is.” 

“Jake.” 

“I know, baby, I know. Give it to me. That’s a good girl. Fuck you’re so beautiful.” 

Though your body goes limp, Jake stays in place. That insatiable urge within him driving him to lick you clean. He gladly takes everything you offer and then some. Even after your consciousness finally slams back into your body, and you’re able to suck down a lungful of sweet air. Even after you try to wiggle away from him. Even after you whimper with sensitivity. Even after he somehow manages to pull a second, albeit smaller, orgasm from you.  

A last sharp tug to his hair and a shudder has him pulling away with a sated smile. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. You notice his eyes are back to their usual green. The beast must have finally been tamed. 

Jake crawls his way up your body, settling on top of you once more. 

You roll your head to the side and fix him with a grin. 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired on me,” he mumbles, kissing the sensitive skin of your throat. “We’re just getting started.”

“Whose fault is it for wearing me out?” You twist your fingers through his hair and scratch at his scalp. 

Jake hums, leaning into your touch. “Gotta build up your endurance again.”

“How are you planning to do that?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Jake meets your eyes, that signature glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbles, kissing along your jaw. 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh.” His lips tickle your skin as he whispers his salacious plan in your ear. 

Let’s just say you were in for a very long, very pleasurable, night. 

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #top gun maverick #i literally wrote this like a person possessed holy shit

[djmorn]

The Devil You Share a Room With

A/N: This is a shameless presentation of my weakness for bathing scenarios. Includes water sex and all the sloppy joys that come with it.

Alternative title: Bed Bath & Beyond

Summary: Tav got separated from her group in the chaos of the Shadow-cursed Lands. Pressing forward by her lonesome she comes upon Last Light Inn where she hopes to either reunite with her companions or take shelter for the night in one of the rooms. She finds neither, for the last offered lodging has just been taken up by a gentleman of the infernal persuasion. But Raphael is ever willing to strike a bargain.

Among the inn’s guests Tav found not a trace of her friends. Shame. She would have to continue her search on the morrow or await the party’s arrival at Last Light. The latter was probably the wiser option, so why not use the opportunity to take comfort in the tavern’s warmth and a welcome change to her lonely journey?

She approached the proprietor, standing behind a desk and polishing a cup. To her asking for a room Jaheira shook her head. ‘Sorry, all’s full up. We don’t offer much lodging to begin with. One of the rooms is reserved for Isobel, so she can work her magic over this area in peace, and the other one has just been taken up by a gentleman who also arrived here by his lonesome. The best I can offer is a straw bed in the stables.’

Tav was not relishing the thought of sleeping outside, stable or not. The prospect of making camp without the safety of her allies amidst the fog and shadows did not sit well with her. At her troubled face Jaheira offered another solution: ‘Or you could try and talk with the gentleman I mentioned.’ She regarded her from head to toe. ‘A pretty young thing like you asking all nice, who knows? Maybe he will give it up to you. He certainly seems the type.’

Jaheira had pointed her in the direction of the man in question and Tav approached the secluded corner of the inn, but immediately lost all hope once she saw who it was.

‘And whatever would you need a room in this place for?’ she asked, crossing her arms in confrontation.

Raphael looked up at her, visibly amused. ‘Ah, my favourite future client! How good it is to see you, and to walk into my arms without any of your annoying little friends as well. This must be my lucky day.’

Tav only glared at the devil who sat in front of a game of lanceboard, no one to play with in sight. She was still waiting for him to answer her question.

‘Surely you’d understand,’ he said. ‘I’m in as much need of a place to stay and rest my weary bones as you are.’

‘Then why don’t you just snap your fingers and return to your domain?’

Amusement danced around his eyes and lips. ‘I’m on a holiday.’ At her silent disregard of his little quip he continued: ‘The area is full of rich history and plenty of opportunity. In fact it has put me in good enough a mood to reconsider my claim to a room in this charming and cozy retreat of the unfortunate souls wandering about.’

Raphael gestured towards the chair across from him and Tav took seat.

‘Play with me,’ he said. ‘Beat me at a game of lanceboard – fair and truly, and you shall have the place.’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘So we are gambling over a room which you don’t actually need? Can’t I just buy it from you?’

‘Oh, come on now. Where would be the fun in that?’

‘Fine.’

The devil ordered drinks for the both of them and they started playing.

Tav looked over the miniature battlefield, at her figures, and then at Raphael’s. She sighed. ‘Well, I guess there goes my hope for a night spent under a roof… Apart from the one in the stables that is. Congratulations, Raphael.’

‘Ah, fear not, my dear. Not many can say to have come so close in beating a devil at lanceboard and besides, I’ve only got a good thousand years of practice to boot.’

‘Then thank you for the enlightening experience,’ she said and finished her drink. ‘I’ll walk the mile of shame towards the cattle.’

‘Not so hasty, little mouse. Not so hasty. There’s still a consolation price for the brave heroine to be had.’ ‘Which is?’

‘Let’s just say I’m willing to accommodate to the humble condition this estate offers and have an inclination to… share my lodging with you.’

He stretched one of his long legs and lightly brushed hers, seemingly by accident. Tav huffed in astonishment. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Just think on the warmth I could have offered once you try to make yourself comfortable on the straw besides the livestock.’

She stormed outside.

The night did not go well. As if fate would see fit to see her punished for her dealings with the infernal a bitter cold struck the lands, followed by an unsettling thunderstorm to which Tav awoke constantly, her rest not made easier by the bite of the frost and the animals’ racket at the state of the weather. The wooden roof of the stable did little to shelter her from the pouring rain. Finally she grabbed her equipment and made her way back to the inn. Better to sleep somewhere on the floor than outside in this chaos.

There were quite a few guests who had passed out where they sat. Some still chattered quietly with each other, indulging in their drinks and company, only sparing Tav a quick look, then returning to their business. Raphael was not among them. Maybe he had left for good, coming here for the sole purpose of toying with Tav, never meaning to spend the night here at all.

She went up the stairs, ignoring the room she knew to be Isobel’s and approached the door to the one that belonged to the devil. And if he was there after all? Tav might just have to wing it, like she usually did.

Tentatively she knocked. Nothing. Luck was on her side. Relief spread through her entire body, followed by glee at the prospect of spending the rest of the night in a warm and dry room all to herself. With a huge grin on her face Tav entered the room, but the joy on her face froze in place as she saw what awaited inside.

‘I’m sorry, did you hear me say “Come in”?’ Raphael was lounging inside a lavish bathtub in the middle of the room, the place lit by the fires of a heating stove and a few candles loosely spread about.

‘Um, excuse me, I… I’d hoped you might’ve left already.’ Her mind was telling her to make herself scarce, run and not spare the devil and this godsforsaken room another thought, but she found that she could not quite avert her eyes from the scene before her. Raphael had only ever presented himself to her in the most formal attire and to now see him in this state of undress did… things to her body. Things her mind was powerless against.

‘Hoped I might have left,’ he said. ‘How sad to hear. And here I was thinking you might take me up on my kind offer after all.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You sure look like a nice hot bath could do you some good.’

She wanted to decline, like she did earlier tonight. It would be the wise thing to do. But the steam rising from the tub in contrast to her shivering limbs had the logical part of her brain reduced to a quivering lonely tadpole.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I accept. I will… um, wait until you’re finished.’

‘Oh, that could take hours, my dear,’ the devil sighed. ‘I do so enjoy a long relaxing bath after a hard day’s work, and with no one about to help me wash… Who knows when this will be over?’ He must be joking. ‘I promise to help you in turn.’

Tav stood staring at a smirking Raphael. When she finally found her voice again the words came out weak: ‘You’re asking me to… join you?’ Raphael trailed his finger through the water. ‘This tub is big enough for the both of us I believe, and the water is o so pleasantly warm. Come on, Tav, and let us both indulge in it.’

Abandoning all sense of self-preservation she started stripping, well aware of the devil’s keen gaze on her. She shivered, not from the cold now, but with excitement. The thought of being so close – naked at that – with Raphael intoxicated her more than the hardest liquor ever could.

When she was done undressing she climbed into the tub. Raphael smiled at her while she adjusted her legs, careful not to make contact with his nether region, but it was near impossible to not brush her legs against his. Tav found she hardly wanted to miss the sensation.

The warmth of the water spread through her, drawing a deep sigh from her lips and whilst she inhaled she took notice of a most wonderful scent: A strong whiff of cherries, pepper, and palmarosa. How much of these pleasant sensations, both the smell and temperature, might be conjured up by the devil present, she wondered.

‘There,’ Raphael said. ‘Much better, don’t you think?’

‘Mhmm,’ Tav mumbled as she slowly let her eyes drift shut.

Suddenly they flew open again. Raphael had started to put a piece of soap to work along her left leg, followed by a gentle trailing of his fingers along the skin with his free hand. He halted at her silent protest. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

Hells no. His touch was bliss. Tav shook her head. ‘Please, do go on, if you will.’

He smiled at her. ‘With pleasure.’ And pleasure he gave.

Despite his infernal origin the caresses he administered were heavenly, drawing soft circles around her inner thigh, and moans from her lips. It was pure rapture to her weary body.

‘Don’t stop, Raphael. Please, more…’

‘Oh, you want more, dearest? Why, you’re in luck, for there is more to come.’ And he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her left knee, then moving to the right, and kissing it in turn. How could she ever think to refuse him? The rain outside went on, and now it seemed to Tav like a blessing, for it had sent her here.

Raphael kept on working his washing and gentle strokes on her right leg, his hand on her inner thigh moving ever further and further… Was he–? Two of his long elegant fingers had found their way between her folds, and Tav’s arm shot out to hold onto his. The devil stopped his magic once more and looked at her with his deep brown eyes. ‘More?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Tav said, nodding.

Raphael started working his fingers inside her once more, and her now aching cunt welcomed them, drawing them nearer and nearer towards her innermost core. She still held onto his arm and Raphael inched closer, putting his other hand atop her knee, the piece of soap now all but forgotten, drifting in the water. He put his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply, hungrily devouring her moans while paying further attention to her clit, adding attentive strokes with his thumb. She could feel his throbbing cock brush against her quivering leg and Tav sneaked her free arm around his neck, burying her hand in his soft curls, and scratching his scalp with her nails while drawing him closer. All she wanted right now was have him be close to her.

Her oncoming orgasm was noticeably rising within her and she moaned Raphael’s name in thanks. But then he stopped.

The devil removed his fingers from her, drawing back to once again lean against his side of the tub. A few hairs were out of place but other than that he looked as immaculate as always. She herself must seem a mess. ‘Why did you stop?’ How dare he leave her in such frustration?

‘I think it’s time you start earning your stay. Don’t you agree?’ She would swipe that damnable smirk from his lips, leave him as much a moaning mess as he did her. Oh, she would do so much more than earn her stay. That her thoughts made her seem no more than a common harlot no longer held any power over her.

Tav moved forward, Raphael handing her the piece of soap and spreading his legs to make room for her. She started working on his chest, letting it glide over the fluff of hair on his body, her other hand paying attention to his side, softly caressing him, briefly wondering if the devil would prefer a firmer touch. A pleased sigh from him told her that her ministrations were just right. While her movements wandered over his stomach towards his bellybutton and below she leaned in to him, planting kisses on his neck and Adam’s apple, trailing them along his jaw and chin as she listened to the sweet sounds coming from him.

As she approached his nether region she changed course though, swiping the soap gently along his right calf, then the left, moving closer and closer just as he had done.

‘Such a tease,’ Raphael said in between moans. ‘I think we’ve both had enough washing now.’ He grabbed her by the flanks and drew her into his lap. Tav smiled, there was no place she’d rather be right now.

He adjusted her position, the tip of his hard cock brushing along her folds. Looking into his eyes there was desire and Tav knew hers reflected the same nature, but she also found hesitation, a silent plea for permission, and so she herself started lowering down, taking him fully, letting Raphael know just how much she wanted this. They moaned their pleasure in unison.

Holding onto his shoulders she rode him, water splashing about, hitting the floor around the tub. Tav didn’t care. It didn’t matter if they made a mess of the room, all she knew was that Raphael was still moaning beneath her, enjoying her movement on his cock, his hands guiding her, his hip arching upwards to find more friction, and that was her entire world right now.

She leaned forward to find his lips again, an action made harder by their mutual rutting. Noses brushed against each other and their kiss was as sloppy as it was passionate.

Raphael started pounding into her, both of them close in reaching their climax. Still finding enough strength in her Tav brushed her fingers over his flush cheek. ‘Oh, sweet Raphael. Tell me, have I earned my stay, fair and truly?’

The affirmation was given in groaning, his cock still hitting her walls in all the right places, and in a wuthering wave of water splashing all around them, Tav and Raphael moaning each others’ names in zealous praising, they both finally found their release.

The pair stayed like that in silence for a minute or two, the only sound in the room their exasperated breathing and the crackling of the fire in the corner. Tav noticed that it had stopped raining.

She laid her head on Raphael’s heaving chest, trailing a finger along his arm now resting on the edge of the tub. There was barely any water left to fully cover their bodies.

Finally they found it in them to move, Raphael gently guiding her out of the bathtub, for the floor around it was drenched in water that had been in the way of their pleasure. The devil snapped his fingers and all was gone along with the tub itself. Tav wrinkled her brow, she should have known that such an expensive looking and enormous piece of furniture was not a part of the inn’s equipment.

Raphael led her towards the bed, throwing the covers over them both and drawing her closer. Tav gladly accepted the invitation.

Before she drifted off to sleep, curled atop the devil she shared a room with, she heard Raphael whispering into her ear: ‘You know, once you reach Baldur’s Gate… I’m afraid there will be plenty of inns and taverns with more than enough rooms to choose from.’

Once again she leaned upwards to plant a kiss upon his lips. ‘I’ll make sure to find yours,’ she said.

In her dream Tav lost a thousand games of lanceboard, and welcomed each and every one of them.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #my writing #my stuff #i like a good gif where he looks his sleaziest :3 #was waiting about an hour to edit this #my neighbour kept screaming into the phone #this place i swear #didn't want to go over and say anything #like 'hey lady i need to work on my smut over here'

[green-sky-smoke]

Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

#Hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader

[mammons-hubby]

Hello, I saw you commissions were open! And I will like to ask.

How would the brothers react to a light sleeper?

I would assume, they all would do activities during the night. Maybe the brothers would but charms and spells around their room. Or maybe Lucifer might put a stricter curfew, so they can sleep!

I have some thoughts on this!

Light sleeper Mc

Lucifer

This man doesn't get sleep basically, staying all night working.

He is quiet, doesn't make a noise when he is shut down at his study.

The times he can rest, you may hear cursed music from his room.

If this wakes you up, he will apologize, and only listen to it in his study, which is far away from your room.

Mammon

He stays all night playing with his phone and gambling, or coming up with schemes to get more money.

He does talk while doing this and may even raise his voice.

He apologizes profusely, and does it loudly as always, you gotta tell him to quiet down.

In other instances you can hear him fighting with Leviathan over trivial things, you have to cover up your ears with your pillow.

You tell them that you couldn't sleep because of them and they feel extremely guilty.

They begin to fight in Levi's room, which is mostly soundproof.

Leviathan

This guy is quiet, like he isn't alive. His whole room is soundproof, because he records himself playing or doing other stuff from time to time.

You can't hear it, but he plays his games really loudly and talks a lot while playing them.

If you hear anything is the sound of distant music, very lightly.

If this bothers you, he will lower the volume, even if he is not used to it.

Satan

He stays his nights usually reading and then going to sleep.

He isn't a bother at all. Very quiet.

Asmodeous

He needs his beauty sleep, so he usually goes to bed pretty early.

Sometimes he comes late from parties, but he showers and then goes to sleep.

Rare times he stays awake, maybe watching videos or recording. He is very soft spoken though, so it probably won't bother you.

Beelzebub

You can hear him walking down the stairs to go to the kitchen.

He does it many times a night. It can be a bit bothersome hearing his footsteps.

You tell him it disrupts your sleep.

So now you only hear him go twice a night.

It seems he brings a lot of food to his room so he doesn't have to do so many travels.

Belphegor

This guy is basically comatose when night comes.

He sleeps all day, but that doesn't seem to stop him from sleeping more.

The only way he may bother you is when he goes to your room and sleeps on top of you.

Just shove him to the floor, he is gonna complain but stay there.

Sorry for how short it is!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #Obey me Asmodeous #Omswd

[angeart]

vampire scar ch1 story wip-

The area around them is dangerous; the night is quickly drawing in and the darkness is beginning to wield claws and teeth, bloodlust seeping into the air in sharp howls and snarls. Yet even then, entering unknown structures could be as dooming as staying inside. Four walls could as easily trap as protect. It’s always a gamble.

With that in mind, Grian still leads Mumbo towards the mansion that looms eerie and quiet and foreboding in front of them. With a little bit of luck, it will be abandoned, covered in dust and silence and bones. 

He should’ve known better. They haven’t had luck in a long time.

The hinges creak when they ram into the huge, ornate front door to convince it to open. That’s promising. The grating sound is a song of disuse, and Grian considers it a good sign as they tumble inside and quickly shut the door behind them.

For a little bit, they just breathe and try to get their bearings. The entrance hall is huge, sprawling, running off in all kinds of directions. It’s hard to make out the detail of the interior; the only light is the swiftly dimming light coming in through the windows.

Grian fails to notice that the windows aren’t covered in grime. He fails to notice that the place is not in disarray, covered in spiderwebs. He fails to notice that the air isn’t stale and dusty. 

“I—I think this looks good?” Mumbo looks around cautiously, keeping close to Grian in this unfamiliar space.

Grian breathes out a huff of relief, even though the sound is still coated with tension; his body refuses to relax, too many unknown variables still spinning through his mind. Anything could lurk in the dark corners and dozens of rooms, and they’re aware only of one singular escape route—and even that is slow and uncertain, hanging on rusty, unwilling hinges. 

If he would be easily swayed with any shreds of things that faintly resemble comfort, they wouldn’t have survived this long.

So he doesn’t give in. He looks around, and he wishes it would be as simple as it seems. There’s a desperate yearning in him for something uncomplicated, for one night not filled with threats and dread and fear for their lives. How he wishes to be able to close his eyes and maybe, maybe sink into a soft bed and just sleep without being terrified of the possibility of not waking up in the morning—

This place is bound to have some soft beds.

Grian’s stomach twists at the thought. No, he tells himself. He can’t be stupid here. He can’t give in. They need to remain alert; they know nothing about this place.

“We should look around,” he suggests, voice taut. 

“Yes. Definitely,” Mumbo agrees immediately, his eyes roaming the area. “Do you want to split up?”

Grian swivels on his heels to face him, an indignant scoff on his lips. “Split—Split up?! Mumbo!” he chastises. “You know that—“

Mumbo lifts his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright! I’m just saying, it’s a big place. Lots of ground to cover.”

Grian’s gaze is drawn off to the side, to the doors that line only one side of the room. So many options. So many possible traps. So many places for danger to hide in. “Okay,” he says slowly, trying to swallow the trepidation that grows thick in his throat. “We could—Maybe we could check adjacent rooms, stay near but check multiple places at once?” he suggests, even though everything in him prickles, unease nauseatingly settling over him.

“Yeah, okay,” Mumbo doesn’t sound convinced, but it was his idea in the first place, so he relents. “That sounds reasonable.”

Grian glares at him. It doesn’t sound very reasonable to him. But they’re both tired and searching this place inch by inch is going to take ages as-is. They have to make compromises, Grian knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “Fine,” he sighs. “Which side do you want to start with?” 

“It honestly makes no difference,” Mumbo remarks.

“Fine,” Grian repeats, a tad more irritably now. He’s tired, he’s tense, his danger-senses are tingling. He is high-strung, even though he tries to convince himself that they just found something safe, that they’re not out there without shelter, that this is good. “Here, then.” He walks to his left, towards the first set of rooms, and Mumbo immediately follows without a word.

They both fall into something familiar, something orchestrated and practiced. They move quietly, their steps soft, shoulders slightly hunched, one hand always hovering over a weapon in anticipation of a threat. 

As soon as they reach the two sets of doors, they give each other a look and a small nod. Grian can see Mumbo bracing himself. He knows he’s doing the same thing. 

And then he pushes the door open and steps over the threshold of a dark room.

At first, a feeling that he’s alone now sinks into him, even if Mumbo’s just a shout away. He thinks about how he’s going in blindly—they don’t even have torches or anything. Every shadow will make him jumpy, he fully expects this—

Except the room is not as dark as it should be.

And it certainly isn’t as empty as he’d hoped.

It’s the far end of the room that’s flickering with dim, warm light. There’s a candle burning up, its flame a weak, dying thing. Grian’s eyes snag at it at first, drawn by the light like a moth to a flame. There’s something reassuring in the gentle, hot glow of a fire, just for a split second, until he pushes that instinct down and reminds himself that a fire he himself didn’t set is bound to burn him— 

That’s when his gaze swerves to the side.

There’s a person there.

There’s a person.

Grian’s mind short-circuits for three precious seconds, before he reboots. Immediately, he hunches up more. His fingertips find his daggers, a tool as ready for stabbing as for throwing. The other person didn’t notice him yet—clearly, because they start humming some silly, jaunty, way-too-content melody as they look over what seems to be an old leather journal. The hum is interrupted only by huffs of laughter.

This gives Grian enough time to take the stranger in.

He doesn’t like what he finds.

Even in the candlelight, their skin is pale, and there’s an old, dried spot of blood near the corner of their mouth. They’re dressed up a bit too well for the reality they’re living in. 

The candlelight glimmers, catches on something shiny and sharp.

A canine tooth.

Grian takes in a sharp breath. He straightens up, grabs a proper hold of one of the daggers, and he thinks in alarm of Mumbo in the other room—and sure, Mumbo didn’t call out yet, but if there’s one of these guys, there might be more, and—

And Grian needs to warn him right now, even at the cost of blowing his own stealth.

“Mumbo!” he calls out, and he belatedly wonders if this will just call more trouble to them than they can handle. “There’s a monster here!”

There’s a frightened gasp then, a jump and a thud of a journal that was sent flying and hit the floor.

“What?! Where?” An alarmed yelp that sounds across the space isn’t Mumbo’s voice. It’s the stranger’s voice—startled, deep, but oddly soft. 

For a second, Grian thinks maybe he made a mistake. Maybe this person isn’t a monster, if this is their reaction?

The stranger spins around and his eyes land on Grian’s, their gaze locking. He holds a hand to his chest and he heaves a big breath, before he chuckles quietly, a tense and unsteady sound. “Gosh, you scared me.”

“I—what?” Grian stares uncomprehendingly at the reaction.

The man’s lips curl into a cherubic smile, then—innocent and bright and—

Definitely not harmless, given by the two sharp canines and the dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

This drives it in for Grian, erasing all doubts: this person is a vampire.

“Well hello there,” the man says, seamlessly slipping more confidence and charm into his voice, even if the edges of it still echo startled unease. “I didn’t realise I have guests!” His gaze jumps to somewhere past Grian’s shoulder. “How rude of me. Welcome!”

Something touches Grian’s back and he almost jumps out of his skin, shrieking at the touch.

“No! It’s just me!” Mumbo immediately tries to fix his mistake.

“God,” Grian breathes out deeply, everything in him ready to snap as he turns back towards the enigma of a vampire they’re now facing. At least he’s no longer alone in this. “He’s a vampire,” he murmurs to Mumbo, even though he’s fully aware his voice carries all the way across the room.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Mumbo notes, signs of distress colouring his voice.

“Now, now,” the man in front of them—the monster, the vampire—lifts his hands amicably. “There’s no need for alarm. I’m a vegetarian!” he offers cheerily. 

Even though he says that, his gaze lingers on Grian in a way that makes a chill run down his spine.

“A vegetarian,” Grian repeats flatly. He isn’t sure why he’s even entertaining the idea; it’s completely absurd.

“Yes!” the man nods fervently, his smile spreading, all toothy and sharp. “I don’t eat anything with a face!”

The blood stain at the corner of his mouth says otherwise.

“I didn’t know that’s possible,” Mumbo exclaims from behind Grian, a little bit too naively for Grian’s comfort.

“Mumbo, there’s no way he’s telling the truth,” he grumbles at him, annoyed.

“No! No, I am!” the man insists. “I usually tear the face off first.”

He says it so simply, chuckling a little, it completely flabbergasts Grian.

“A—You what?” the words fall past his lips before he can think better of it.

“I tear the face off,” the man repeats with an unbothered shrug of his shoulder. It seems to take him another moment to register the apprehension of the other two people in the room, because he only belatedly hastily adds: “There’s nothing to worry about, really! I haven’t had guests in ages, I’m so happy to have you over!”

“We’re—“ Grian’s mind spins as he tries to process this. “Guests? Over? What? No!”

“Oh.” The man’s shoulders slump in immense sadness—it reeks of solitude, of disappointment, of such sheer unhappiness that it stabs at Grian’s heart.

He knows this is wrong. He knows vampires are charming and manipulative. He knows they have their ways of pulling in their prey, before they inevitably sink their teeth into flesh and bleed them dry. And yet—

And yet.

Something in his heart can’t bear the look of this stranger looking so small and abandoned. Maybe because he himself knows what it feels like, first-hand. Maybe because he knows that if it wasn’t for Mumbo, he’d be completely lost. He can’t begin to imagine staying in a big, empty, dark place all alone for—how long?

His feelings keep snagging on something hot, like that flickering flame of a candle. Something that burns through his veins, singes his heart. Something unsteady and dangerous.

He didn’t know vampires could look lonely.

He hates himself for that swell of empathy. He hates the momentary loss of control. He knows they’re being played now. 

“Look, pal,” he starts, and it’s cautious. He takes a step back, meets Mumbo’s chest and hopes the man realises this is their cue to retreat. “I appreciate the offer, but we’re not staying. Sorry to intrude, we’ll—uh, we’ll leave you to it.” Whatever the it was.

The man is still looking directly at him. There’s something yearning in his eyes. Something heartbroken. He seems to shrink further as he tears his gaze away. “Okay,” he says in a small voice.

Mumbo makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. He’s still blocking Grian’s retreat.

“Mumbo,” Grian hisses at him.

“Yeah, right, I just—“ Mumbo stammers, indecision wild in his veins. He takes a tentative half-step away, feeling Grian immediately crowd his space again, pressing against him to retreat further.

The man—no, not man, the vampire—looks towards the window contemplatively, before his gaze flicks back to them. “You want to leave?”

“Yes,” Grian confirms immediately. “We’re just gonna go—“

“Where?” the vampire asks, an odd, unreadable inflection in his voice as he takes a singular step forward.

Grian twitches. “Out,” he replies, his voice strained. He presses further against Mumbo, and thankfully Mumbo moves, takes three steps, enough to get them out of the room, but not too many to still be able to catch and steady Grian at the unexpected loss of security. 

The vampire’s eyebrows pull to a concerned scowl. “But it’s dangerous.”

He says it so simply. So staggeringly simply. 

The worst thing about it is, he’s not wrong.

Grian pauses and contemplates this for a moment, then. The outside poses a million potential unknown threats. Here, they’re facing a vampire, but they know how to handle vampires. They could handle one of them. They could— This could still be their best option. 

“Are you alone?” he ventures tentatively.

The vampire gives him a look that says it all. “Yes,” he admits, and it’s not charming, it’s not confident. It’s shaky and it’s open and it’s wounded. Maybe a little bit afraid. “I—Is it so bad I don’t want to be, for a little bit? I promise I’m not dangerous,” he slides straight to bargaining. “You can sleep here! I could, I probably have some food you could eat. I won’t do anything to you, I just—I—“

He looks so, so lost.

“Grian?” Mumbo says quietly, and it comes out a bit wobbly and emotional.

That’s the thing that breaks Grian’s own dangerous tilt of judgement. He looks over his shoulder sharply, frowning. “You can’t be serious.”

“W—well, I mean—“ Mumbo fumbles for words, trying to get some rationality out of his heart. “It’s better than the outside?”

Grian side-eyes the vampire. “We should just kill him.”

“Kill?” the vampire repeats in alarm; the word is laced with false laughter, as if he tried to spin it into a joke. It rings hollow, anxious, untrue. “Noooo, no, there’s no need for that! I like living thank-you-very-much!”

“Living,” Grian repeats flatly, challengingly. “You’re not alive.”

“I am!” the vampire protests vehemently. “I breathe and I bleed and I can die.” He pauses, ponders briefly if making that one point in particular was smart. “I—Well. I can starve and all that and, and, I have feelings!”

Grian stares at him blankly. Something in him is unconvinced, but his heart bashes itself against his ribcage in attempted empathy anyway. “This can't be happening,” he mutters dismally.

“Look, I can, I can show you around! You can decide then! It’s just me here, all alone, there’s plenty of space for you even if you want me to stay away! I can go to a different wing or—or something. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement?” he proposes, his voice hasty and desperate. “I just. You don’t have to leave.”

Something about the way he says it chips away at Grian’s resolve, strips his caution, leaves him feeling incredibly human in arguably the worst way possible when confronted with a charming monster. Still, he hears himself say, “Okay.”

The vampire perks up immediately. “Okay!” he echoes.

“Okay?” Mumbo repeats with more alarm and unsteadiness.

Grian shoots him a look. “I thought you wanted to do this?”

“W—Well, yes, I just. I didn’t expect you to agree?” he admits sheepishly.

“Mumbo.” Grian is looking at him with a deep frown. “Do you want to stay or do you want to leave?”

“I—I don’t know!” Mumbo cries, indecisiveness rushing wildly through his veins. More than anything, he doesn’t want to be culpable for this decision and its repercussions. 

Grian sighs and lets his gaze slide away. If Mumbo can’t bear the weight of this decision, it now falls back on Grian. It’s a familiar weight. It’s something he needs to shoulder, their fate, their pitfalls. The inevitable guilt of it all. The feeling that whatever he decides might just guide Mumbo to his demise.

He meets the gaze of the vampire, as steadily as he can manage. “Give us the tour.”

Without hesitation, the vampire moves forward, towards the door, towards the room’s exit, towards the rest of the mansion—

Grian flinches at the sudden approach and stumbles a couple of steps back, pulling Mumbo with him, keeping the taller man protectively behind him. 

It makes the vampire pause. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I think we need to lay some ground rules. First of all, introductions. That always helps! I’m Scar!”

Grian blinks, his throat dry with the abruptness of his panic reaction. With the preposterousness of this situation.

“And you are?” the vampire—Scar—prompts.

“I—I’m Mumbo, and this is Grian,” Mumbo stammers for both of them. 

Scar’s eyes spark up and he gives a big smile. “Wonderful! I’m happy to meet you!” The words are silky, charming in a way that lets them easily burrow underneath skin without notice. They’re honest, too, and maybe that’s where they draw their power from—because Scar truly is lonely, in such a deep, raw way, and there’s nothing if not pure relief that his new guests decided to not immediately leave.

He’s tired of feeling like a monster. He’s tired of being alone, unloved, unwanted.

He’s tired of feeling like these old, cracked, dusty walls—empty and abandoned.

His heart beats in his chest in a wild waltz as he approaches the strangers-no-more again, this time careful about where he steps and how close he gets. He maintains a safe distance, giving a tight smile as he passes them, before taking big steps into the open space.

He spins there, buzzing with theatrics and more than a smidge of showmanship, spreading his arms wide. “This is my mansion.”

It’s very easy, Grian finds, to give in. To let Scar reel him in and pull him along. His body follows unquestioningly, taking in room after room after room, dizzyingly trying to slot the information and not get lost amidst it all—his survival instincts scream at him, but the rest of him is just plain tired and, honestly, a little bit lulled after he watches Scar for a while.

Because Scar isn’t lithe and agile, strong and immovable. He isn’t as charming as one would expect of a vampire, either, even if he’s rambly and his tongue is undeniably tinged with silver. He’s cheerful and he’s giggly and he’s, for the lack of a better word, endearing. But more than that, he’s clumsy and forgetful and edging just on the side of nervous.

It puts Grian ill-at-ease, because this isn't what a vampire should be, and that means Grian can't predict him, doesn't know what to expect. 

And yet he keeps following him, watching him, listening to him. 

He should try to pay more attention to the mansion tour and less to the man, maybe. The layout is important. He needs to know exit routes, and the possible sources of danger.

But isn’t Scar a source of danger? Living—or so he claims—and moving and very much capable of harm?

So what if Grian’s gaze lingers on him a little bit too much? What if he focuses on his body language and his tone more than the walls that surround them? 

He tells himself it’s only because he’s being wary.

“You can sleep here,” Scar finally says in a room that has two huge beds, at the very end of the mansion. The hallway that leads to the room ends with a backdoor exit, an easy way out if they feel trapped or—Scar very much wants to not think about it, even if it’s an option he offers freely—if they decide to sneak out.

Scar walks towards the fireplace and he fiddles for a while, struggling to get it lit.

“Here, I can help,” Mumbo offers, moving forward. He produces flint and steel, reaching for the fireplace.

Grian watches Scar flinch away.

His lips purse, taking in the scene. The beds are a comfort they weren’t able to indulge in for a long time. So is the fire, deep at night. A source of light and warmth. There’s a clear exit. Nobody else is in the building. Nothing about this screams it’s a trap. 

And they know how to kill vampires, if push comes to shove.

But they can’t do it if they’re asleep.

He stares at Scar, his gaze prickling the vampire until he turns around and their gazes meet.

Scar offers a tentative, shy smile.

“If there’s anything else you guys need, just let me know,” Scar says then, the words easy on his tongue, unhesitatingly willing to provide for them.

Grian frowns. “What do you need?” he questions instead. “What do you want from us?”

“Nothing!” Scar says immediately.

Grian dismally thinks that’s the first lie he’s heard from him. It’s so easy to identify, it makes everything else startlingly slot in as truth. The awareness of it makes him feel destabilised at his core. He sways a little in his spot, reaches out for the bed frame for support. “That’s—No,” he says weakly, too aware of the green eyes boring into him. “You definitely want something.”

There it is. That heartbreak.

He didn’t know vampires could project heartbreak so well.

Project? Or feel?

Grian finds with increasing panic that he can no longer tell the difference. None of this makes sense. None of this should be happening.

The fire crackles, strong and alive, lapping at the air and throwing a warm, flickering glow over the room as Mumbo takes a step away from it. 

“Oh, you did it!” Scar perks up, his eyes squinting in a smile he throws Mumbo’s way. “That’s wonderful, thank you for your help!”

“Well, I mean, it’s for us, right?” Mumbo sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “And it was easy enough.”

“It always gives me trouble,” Scar admits freely, “dealing with fire. A bit scary, if you ask me.”

“You’re a vampire,” Grian notes flatly. It comes out blank and rough, his suspicions warring with his emotions. “Fire harms you.”

“Yes, well,” Scar meets his gaze. “I like how it glows. I like the warmth.”

Grian continues to stare at him, because he isn’t sure how to actually process all of that. Instead, he takes a breath and presses: “You didn’t answer the question.”

Scar blinks. “What question?”

Grian frowns, but doesn’t relent. “What do you want from us?” 

Scar’s gaze shifts to the fireplace. “The fire harms you, too,” he says, and it’s soft and contemplative, but makes everything in Grian prickle with a warning. “You also get hungry,” Scar continues. “And you need rest, and you need—“ he falls quiet.

“We need?” Mumbo prompts, and he sounds so gentle, so careful.

It makes Scar lift his gaze to him, meet his eyes. There’s hesitation in him, some unknown emotions swirling up, raw and threatening. He swallows hard, before prying his gaze away. “You need safety,” Scar continues, even though his voice is clearly strained, “and I can give you that.”

“What for,” Grian insists. “What do you want for it.”

Green eyes shift to him, and somehow Grian’s heart picks up speed, feeling irrationally guilty at having asked.

“I don’t want anything,” Scar repeats, his voice wavering and quiet.

“Surely you must want something out of this,” Grian insists, even though there’s a lump in his throat and he feels terrible.

Scar looks away, then. He severs their connection, making Grian reel at the sudden lack of it.

“I just,” Scar says, and it’s a half-sigh, it’s a half-whisper, it’s a quiet, tentative, cracked confession. “I thought it might be nice to have some company for a little bit.”

It’s so soft, so vulnerable that it makes Grian feel like the ground was pulled from underneath him. Emotions sway him at the sight of the man—the vampire, he reminds himself futilely—so hunched over and sad. 

He knows how feeling alone in a world that no longer wants you feels like.

He just didn’t count on monsters having actual feelings.

He didn’t count on monsters looking so human.

His heart clogs his throat and he finds himself speechless.

“Were you—“ Mumbo tries to say something, but his voice falters as soon as Scar’s gaze lands on him. There’s a moment of silence, before Mumbo regathers his courage and finishes: “Were you alone for long?”

Scar’s shoulders sag at that. He seems to be crushed underneath some invisible weight. “Yeah,” he says, and the word barely manages to make it past his lips, daunted and small. 

Grian feels his heart slam sharply against his ribs at the confession.

“W—well,” Mumbo looks over at Grian, catching his gaze. He’s hesitant and unsure, but clearly willing and wanting to offer something.

Grian’s eyebrows pull into a frown. His emotions scream one thing at him, but every remaining shred of rationality screams something else. It’s an overwhelming cacophony and he knows he’s the one who’s expected to make the decisions—and then bear the weight of them going wrong—yet he finds himself feeling lost and adrift at this.

Mumbo holds his gaze for a moment longer, before he lets it swivel back to Scar. “We’ve actually never really talked to a vampire before.”

“No,” Scar shakes his head in immediate sympathy. “I wouldn’t imagine you would. They’re not a friendly bunch.”

Something about that statement stabs at Grian’s heart, his eyes still locked on Scar. “Then… Why are you talking to us?”

Scar’s gaze meets his and, again, it makes Grian's heart trip over itself. 

“Because I want friends?” he says, and it’s so open and vulnerable and his voice is thick with emotions, cracking and failing him at the end of his miserable sentence.

Grian takes a sharp breath, fumblingly attempting to remind himself that vampires are dangerous and they’re charmers and they’re manipulators and—

“You can’t mean that,” he says in the end, the words a little bit hoarse.

Scar blinks, confused. “What?”

Grian shakes his head vehemently. “You’re a vampire. We’re just food for you.”

Scar’s eyebrows twitch into a frown, before they smooth out and his face stretches into a smirk. “You do have faces, don’t you? I told you I don’t eat anything with a face.”

“But you could, you know,” Mumbo steps in, “rip the face off or something, as you said.”

Scar’s gaze anchors into his, a displeased curl to his mouth. “I don’t eat my friends.”

“But we’re not friends,” Grian chimes in.

“We could be,” Scar suggests easily, unaware of how threatening that sounds.

(... tbc?)

------- as the title states, this is a wip of a potential story that was put on the backburner because my hands are full. if you want to know more about what kind of things are meant to happen in this au (atm it's just a collection of ideas, rather than any specific outline), or are curious about anything else, feel free to ask! and let me know what you think about it so far <3

if you're curious where this au came from, i recommend you to watch random encounter's "resident enis" videos (there are two). i'm sure you'll see my vision. (the line about not eating anything with a face is there kjxnbkj.)

this was written on a whim and for the longest time, i kept calling it "silly vampire scar au" (in the spirits of resident enis), even though i know the au devolves—as per usual—into heavier topics and angst. it's set in a world riddled with monsters, it's a survival story, pretty much.

fun fact: the working title of this au is called "Silly Vampire Mr GoodTimes"

i need a better name for it though, "vampire scar au" is so generic, and sure it does have a vampire scar in it, but it's not exclusively about him... but i have no idea what else to call it/how to title it (rip) (pls help-)

#ange writes #i saw the votes #you guys wanted this #well here it is #i wrote this months ago #but the au still lives in my head #i just have too many projects #but hopefully one day this will be something! #let me know how you like it :3 #vampire scar #vampire scar au #oh also #speaking of where inspiration was yoinked from #the idea that vampires are weak to fire was borrowed from carry on

[nevernonline]

✧.* crash into me; lsm one shot.

A one shot based off what transpired before these texts.

✧ Synopsis: Lee Dokyeom was your closest friend. After a friendly dinner you head back to his apartment, to play a game little did you know it would crash the friendship barrier between you two.

✧ genre/s: fluffy, friends to who knows?, 

✧ warning/s: suggested smut, suggestive humor and theme, kisses, lots of hands, some light drinking. 

Sitting at your favorite table awaiting the arrival of your best friend Seokmin, felt like a lifetime. It was a Friday night so of course the line was accumulating outside the restaurant and the patriots were waiting for your seat where you selfishly look like you’re taking up a table for you and your seltzer water. 

Through the large glass windows waiting at the cross walk you spot him looking for a chance to jaywalk across the street safely and sprint breathlessly to your side. 

As Ola, you and Seokmin’s favorite waitress brings him to the table alongside your cocktail orders, you can feel at peace again. That’s what he was to you, peace. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I got stuck helping someone with a task just as I was ready to leave. I feel so bad.” 

The brown haired boy now stripped of his denim jacket, resembling a puppy now flipping through the menu as if he wasn’t sure what to order. 

“It’s okay, seriously. I just mainly feel bad because all of those couples outside were starting to give me the stink eye. Also, I already ordered for you, why are you looking at the menu?” 

“You’re so right, I don’t know. I’m really flustered for some reason.” 

You slide his gin and tonic closer to him. 

“Drink this, please. You’re going to pop a forehead vein if you don’t settle down, Seok.” 

“You are right, for the second time. Maybe you should take up gambling.” 

As his breaths get back to normal, he takes another look at you. Your hair was up off your neck elegantly, a cream colored blouse with brown trousers, and the loafers he bought you for your birthday last year on your feet. He noticed you wore makeup today, a rare occasion for you since you didn’t need it. 

“Why do you look so beautiful today?” 

The words just escaped his mouth like word vomit, he couldn’t help but tell you. 

“Do I not look like this everyday?” 

He leans back in his chair to get a better look at you, sizing you up again. 

“No, something is different. Not that you don’t look beautiful all the time, but something is standing out to me..” 

You raised your hand from your side of the table to rest on top of his. 

“Seok, you’re rambling again.”  

His long fingers enclosed around yours as he held onto it a moment longer than normal. 

“No, I’m just trying to get my point across. I’m doing a bad job of it, but you are really beautiful. Got it?” 

A blush rose to your cheeks as your hand found its way back to the now sweaty glass and finished off the liquor inside. 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” 

 His megawatt smile flashed itself your way and you continued to enjoy your meal without any more of Seokmins semi-sober ranting. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄

“GOD, I am so fucking full. That was amazing.” 

You giggled slamming the front door shut behind you, making your way into Seokmin’s apartment. 

“You know it’s extra good when I can sleep on your shoulder the whole bus ride without you smacking me.” 

“Seok, I do not.” 

“Uh, yeah you do, you're like some little old woman.” 

Suddenly a t-shirt hit your lap, coming from the entryway of Seokmin’s bedroom door. 

“I figured you’d want to wear that to sleep, I’m not letting you leave here alone when you’ve been drinking.” 

Your head turns slightly to your right to reply, but your eyes caught a glimpse of Seokmin in only his boxers changing into his own sleep shirt. It’s not wrong to stare at your best friend, right? 

“Do you want to watch a movie or play a game, maybe have wine?” 

His voice grew closer as you were still stuck staring at him. 

“Uh, can we do all of the above?” 

“Yes. Hurry up and go get changed, dummy.” 

You’re now standing in the same spot Seokmin was moments before, not at all baiting him to glance your way, but for some reason you couldn’t help yourself. With your back turned to him it’s impossible to see if he’s actively watching you, but you can tell by his sudden silence that he just might be. 

“Okay, so what shall we do first?” 

Sitting down next to him now matching his own outfit, underwear and his t-shirts.  

“I say we put on some music and play that funny truth or drink game you made me for a gift a few years back.” 

“Only if you want to die tonight, you NEVER answer any of the questions unless it’s like ‘golden retrievers or huskies?’”

Seokmin slapped your arm, removing himself from the floor to hunt down the laminated pieces of paper. 

“Okay, well how about we only get three chances to plead the fifth, any other question you have to answer or you have to drink.” 

Your eyes roll watching him move swiftly through his home, now grabbing a freshly opened bottle of red wine. 

“Plus it's only wine so we can cap it off at one bottle otherwise I do have opened tequila.” 

“Seok, do you not remember what happened the last time I had too much tequila?” 

“Sort of. I was equally as drunk as you if not more, all I remember is you’re  clingy as hell.” 

Taking the space across the coffee table from you, he placed the stack of questions down, and poured half of the red liquid in two coffee mugs. 

“Ladies first.” 

His eyes crinkled on the side as he smiled, waiting for you to read the first interrogating question. 

“Okay,” A laugh escaped your lips before reading out loud. “What’s the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before hooking up?” 

“Oh come on, you can answer that it’s easy.” 

“Hm, I really was a little crazy when I first went to college. I’d have to say maybe a half hour?” 

Seokmin just nodded, nothing about that was too crazy. He knew about your freshman year of college. 

“Alright, Seoky. Saddle up.” 

You giggled, taking a sip of your wine out of turn, watching the face of the other player turn red. 

“What’s your most embarrassing fantasy?” 

He flirts with the idea of answering that most of his recent fantasies have involved you, but instead he takes a swig of his drink. 

“Oh come on. You’re no fun. Pick another card, Seok.” 

“That’s not how this game is played, you go.” 

“What’s the most embarrassing time you got turned on?” 

You stretched your head thinking you should confess to your friend that watching him change earlier brought on some sort of fever, but decided against it. 

“Actually, this is embarrassing. But, do you remember my friend Jeonghan from college?” 

“Yeah, of course. Tall, blonde, and gorgeous guy.” 

“Well one time we were studying for a biology exam and the AC in the library was broken, so it was ridiculously hot. We were both sweating a bit, but he was wearing a sweatshirt and I fought and fought him to remove it so he could be more comfortable. Like, it was clearly distracting him. But, he told me he didn’t have a t- shirt to wear underneath.” 

As your story continued Seokmin felt himself catching a wave of jealousy. 

“Lucky for him, I did have my gym bag for later. So I lent my workout top to wear. When he came back from the bathroom he was in a white crop top and for some reason I got so turned on by him wearing my clothes and studying. Like when he burst into the room I swear I almost fucked him right there.” 

“So you got turned on by a guy wearing your clothes? You’re such a typical man, Y/N.” 

“Hey, shut the fuck up. Men wish they were like me.” 

Seokmin’s face now hotter than ever reached back into the pile. 

“What’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?” 

He tried to think of anything even remotely scandalous he could tell you, but came up flat and a little embarrassed. 

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever sexted in my life.” 

“There’s no way you haven’t.” 

“No, I’m serious. The only girl I really dated long term used to try to send me stuff like ‘oh i want you so bad, Seokmin.’ or ‘I wish you’d come over to take care of my problem.’ But I was oblivious and would just respond with things like ‘Well you already have me.’ and ‘What’s wrong?’ I promise I’ve never sexted or even tried too, I would be awful at it. I can barely flirt and make it obvious.” 

“She was trying to get you to fuck her and you thought she had an actual problem?” 

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at flirting.” 

As you laugh at his innocent mistake, and continue to drink your wine you come up with an idea. 

“Okay, let’s practice.” 

“Practice what?” 

“Flirting, like we can roleplay you flirting with me right now, let’s go.” 

“Are you serious?” 

You patted the floor on your side of the glass table trying to get him closer to you. 

“Deadly, now come on.” 

He still didn’t move, so you pushed yourself off his carpeted floor and sat facing him at his side, finally turning to you, you noticed how nervous he seemed. 

“Look, it’s just me. Nothing bad can come out of it.” 

“How do we even start doing this?” 

“Hmm, here scooch is a little closer to me. Just tell me a line.” 

“Okay.” 

Seokmin placed his warm hands on your criss-crossed knees and looked deeply at you, almost into your soul. Your stomach fluttered at the closeness, even though touching for the both of you wasn’t unusual. 

“Hey, baby. I -” 

You cut him off blissful with laughter, nearly spitting your sip of wine onto his white t-shirt. 

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad was I?” 

Dialing it back slightly, your now crying eyes and painful belly, just shook your head. 

“Why were you so serious? Like be yourself, come on.” 

“Let’s just stop. I can't do this, it's too embarrassing.” 

“Fine, here. I’ll teach you.” 

You stood up now, gesturing to him to follow. When he does, you hand him his mug and give him a little nod. Walking over to the knob for the lights to be more dim, only the sound of your feet and the soft party playlist lingering in the background, you strutted back over to him.  

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

Your free hand snaked its way up to his shoulder as you gave it a little squeeze indicating you’re going to start now. 

“So, I was over there.” Your hands gesturing to the very bedroom you watched him changing in earlier. “And, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re really hot.”

“You do?” 

As you nodded, his eyes followed the traces of your exposed neck all the way down to your bare legs. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” 

A question a little silly for you two just being in his apartment, but anything to make him more comfortable without having to talk. 

Seokmin took back both of your mugs and placed them down onto the table, wrapping his hands tightly around your lower back as yours reached into his hair and laid your head down onto his shoulder. 

As you swayed looking out the window to the sparkling cityscape you felt him pull away slightly from you. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

A simple question. 

“How badly I want to kiss you.” 

The words left his mouth with honesty. 

“See that’s a good line.” 

“It’s not a line, I just really want to kiss you.” 

Your head came up off of his shoulder to search his eyes. 

“I, uh. You do?” 

Suddenly you were the one rambling, finally not in the dominant position. 

He just nodded, leaning down to your wine stained lips and planted a kiss as light as a feather on your face, just missing the target. 

You now rolling your eyes dug your fingers deeper into his brown locks and crashed into him. 

The two of you still swaying your bodies to the song started to go deeper into each other, kissing more rapidly now. 

When he stopped for a minute to lift you into his arms, Seokmin’s lips reached the spot on your neck that was just sensitive enough to have a moan breathe out. 

No words were exchanged as he laid you down on his perfectly made bed and continued exploring you, not until it was over did he mutter something that he often says to you, but it had a different meaning now. 

“I love you.” 

#❃ - duffytalks #seventeen x reader #seungkwan x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #dk x reader #dk x you #dk x y/n #dokeyom #dokyeom x reader #svt dokyeom #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt reactions #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom imagines #seokmin x reader #seokmin fluff #seokmin x y/n #svt texts #lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin fluff #lee seokmin imagines

[mathanlin]

// mentions of hunger, neglect, and cold, blood and injury

Fae AU where fae!Wilbur’s approached by a skinny street kid. 

More accurately, a *pickpocket,* clutching stolen gold in one shaking hand. *He’ll want luck, riches,* Wilbur thinks, amused. *Or food, if he’s stupid—*

“Can I have a hug?” 

“What?”

“A… a hug?” The kid mumbles, swallowing. “I think— you just put your arms around someone and… hold them. I saw someone do it.” 

The clumsy explanation does nothing to answer Wilbur’s real question. 

So he pushes further, intrigued.

“What do you have to give me?”

The kid straightens. “Gold. Enough for a few days of meals, or— or somewhere nice to sleep.”

It’s worthless to Wilbur. 

But it tells him exactly what the kid’s willing to give up. 

So he smiles. “I accept.”

The kid barely moves, flinching as Wilbur steps up to him. Shivering, cowering, like he expects a hit, a shove. Or even just refusal.

But yet when Wilbur slides his arms around his weak, malnourished frame…

The kid melts.

He keeps coming back.

Sunshine. That’s the nickname Wilbur gives him, after the kid (smartly) refuses to give his true name.

But that’s where his intelligence ends.

“Just… talk to me?”

The kid sets a stolen necklace outside the Fae circle, shivering. It’s freezing, his jaw chattering beneath hollow cheeks. 

Wilbur raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “Wouldn’t you rather have a blanket? Some warm food?”

It’s… just a little from the kindness of his heart.

The kid could die like this. He’s already half-starved, beat-up, and alone.

But he still shakes his head weakly. “No. Just… tell me a story.”

It gets warmer. 

The kid appears less, and though Wilbur’s sad, he’s also relieved. Maybe he’s found someone to care for him. Maybe he doesn’t have to gamble his soul for affection.

And then he stumbles into Wilbur’s forest. 

Half-dead. 

“I’ll give you my name,” is the first thing he chokes out, clutching his bloodied side. 

*To heal you?* Wilbur thinks, recoiling. *That’s not worth the cost, surely you know that—*

“Just— stay with me, please?”

“What?”

Wilbur barely whispers it, stunned. Tommy flinches, paling.

“I’m— I’m dying,” he chokes out. Honesty, like the Fae like. 

Wilbur hates it now.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sunshine—”

“Tommy,” the kid says, shaking. “Tommy, my name’s Tommy, you can have it. Please, don’t leave me.”

And of course, Wilbur doesn’t.

(Despite the blood loss, Tommy still sobs with relief when Wilbur picks him up. 

At least he has someone holding him gently, even if he’s being carried into a Fae circle.

And giving his name & soul away was worth it, for this.)

.

.

.

Even after, Tommy can't accept affection. 

It's not that he doesn't want it. Wilbur can tell that each refusal is a flat-out lie.

But Tommy's telling the truth when he whispers, "I'll let you hug me if I can pay you back."

Nothing Wilbur does can convince him that the affection is free. 

And apparently saying, “You don’t have anything I *want,* Tommy,” wasn’t the right thing to say.

Tommy just shuts down further.

Fuck being a Fae. Wilbur’s desperate — and if that means making a deal with a human, even one whose name he has, so be it.

“How about you hug *me?*”

Tommy blinks, eyes half lidded from exhaustion.

“What?”

“I want a hug,” Wilbur says, trying to keep his voice light. He can’t tell lies, and Tommy knows it. 

So maybe that’s why the kid quietly, hesitantly accepts. 

It’s a sort of gentle trickery. 

Tommy will still shiver when Wilbur hugs him back, but it’s better than nothing. He’ll stay rigid when Wilbur asks to brush his hair, like he doesn’t know that Wilbur *wants* him to lean into it.

And the time he does, he panics.

One moment he’s asleep, dozing on Wilbur’s shoulder after a particularly long hug.

And then he’s jolting awake, choking out, “I’m sorry,” before his eyes are even fully open.

“Tommy—”

“I— I’ll pay you. Please, I know you— I don’t have anything you want, but—”

“—no, sunshine, you—”

“—or— or you can give me less? I don’t need blankets, or food, or—”

“Stop.”

It’s a Fae’s command. And with Tommy’s name in his possession, Wilbur shuts him right up.

“I want you to be happy,” he whispers, unable to stop himself from crying. Tommy stares at him, still trembling, but listening. “That’s it, okay?”

“But—”

“I want you to feel loved, Toms, whatever it takes. I want you to ask me when you want affection, or food, *anything.* 

Fae can tell no lies.

“So promise me, sunshine. Promise you’ll ask.”

And they can feel lies, too.

So when Tommy breathes, “I’ll try,” Wilbur finally relaxes. 

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #tommyinnit #wilbur soot

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin xiao #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #heizou x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #venti x reader #aether x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin impact imagines #x gn reader #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact headcanons #genshin #gn reader #xiao #Wanderer #Genshin wanderer #genshin headcanons

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Oceans of time

One night, Laddie asks David how he became a vampire. The tale that he tells is one of love and betrayal and a hurt he could never quite overcome.

A Dracula A/U

Part 2 Part 3

----------------------------

"How did you become a vampire?"

Laddie laid in his bed, his old stuffed teddybear held tightly in his arms. David looked up from where he was sitting, not responding. The cave was silent. Dwayne, Marko, and Paul had gone out to feed, leaving David with what he called 'baby-sitting duties'. Not that he truly minded it, no. Laddie was - as far as kids go - a good one. He listened, he didn't lie, and he obeyed the rules. Now, however, Laddie had decided not to. Maybe it was because of the warmth of the cave, the summer-heat still caught in its walls. Maybe it was because he had too much sugar that evening, or maybe it was because he was just not tired. No matter the why, David needed to answer, or else the kid might never shut up.

"Why do you ask?"

Laddie shrugged. "I'm just curious."

David couldn't help but grin, shaking his head. "You need to sleep."

"I won't be able to until you tell me. Please, David? Please!"

David sighed, looking at the kid. "Fine. But don't expect a happy story. It isn't."

Still, Laddie smiled. He moved over, laying closer to the wall so there was enough space for David to sit comfortably. "If it gets too sad, Mr. Teddy will cheer you up. He always cheers me up when I'm sad."

"No need," David looked at the stuffed animal - or what was left of it. He supposed the bear was once a light brown colour, but now it was closer to grey. He really had no desire to come close to that thing. "It was a long time ago. There were six of us."

"Who are the other two?"

"Don't interrupt me, or I won't tell you a thing."

Laddie nodded, zipping his mouth close.

July 1897, Santa Carla

"Will you be careful out there?" The young girl asked, sitting next to a phonograph. The song - well, it was hardly that, it was more white noise than music - played quietly. David looked at the girl. Her glasses lay on the table, and just by the way she held her head in her arms, he could tell she was dealing with yet another headache.

"You know I will be. I've got a reason to come back. You wouldn't last a day without me."

A small smile played on the girls lips. "It's not my fault that we can't afford the right glasses."

"Nor is it mine. I'll try and bring some fruit with me today, alright? And if possibke ill try and get some new glasses to try. Maybe we'll be lucky this time. "

"David? Please tell your boys to be careful too - and tell them to come home? I do miss their company."

He sighed, giving his sister a soft kiss on her forehead. What she called home was nothing more than a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom, and just a single bedroom. There was hardly enough space for the two of them, but somehow, she swore she could make it work for their little makeshift family.

"No need to worry about that, Mia. I'll be back before dark."

With those words, David left the house. The sun was still rising. He knew it would be a long day. His - no matter if you called them friends, gang, crew or something else, it never felt quite right - brothers and he had taken to a life of petty crime. Sure, a couple years back, they had tried to do honest work, working in the factory or the coal mines, but eventually, they all realised that they did shitty work for even shittier pay. So now they stole, gambled a bit here and there. They had a benefactor, a man willing to pay them for their crimes. Steal some papers from the governor, plant some evidence at the pub - whatever Mr. Max demanded, they'd do. He paid well, and that's exactly what they needed. They did what they could to survive, and this definitely helped.

They were good at that, surviving. Quick on their feet, changing plans on the spot, being able to predict outcomes - they were good. They'd managed to stay out of the hands of law enforcement, and the one time they did end up in jail, their good friend Lucinda was quick to break them out. She called it paying bail, but they didn't really care about the technicalities,

"Have you heard? There's a shipwreck down by the beach. If we're quick, we can see if there's some loot." Paul grinned as he showed that mornings newspaper. They'd met up down the harbour. Marko had stolen some bread and shared it with the boys. David sat on one of the crates while Dwayne scanned the crowds. Early mornings meant drunk people stumbling over the docks, trying to make their way home. They were easy targets and often wouldn't even remember what they'd been robbed off.

"What kind of ship?" Marko took the paper, looking at the photograph. "Seems quite big. Could be something." He showed the picture to the others, not bothering with the specifics of the article.

"Won't any survivors come knocking?" Dwayne looked at Paul, who just grinned. "Nope! There were no survivors. That's what they say anyway. Only a dog that ran off, the second the ship stranded."

"We should check it out," David nodded, following Paul to the beach. It wasn't often that a shipwreck ended up on their beach. Ships like these would carry cargo, and possibly something that was worth a fortune.

As promised, there was a shipwreck on the beach. The whole thing was broken apart, as if something unnatural had ripped the wooden boards away from each other. If they hadn't been told that it had been a ship, David was certain they would not have recognised it as such. As they moved through the ship, exploring what was left of the now empty rooms, they came to two conclusions.

One: There was nothing to loot. Two: There were some very strange marks on the doors and walls. As if someone had tried to fight something off.

"There's nothing here," Marko spoke up after they sweeped the place. "We should go, maybe Max has something for us."

With the uneasiness they felt on the ship, none of the boys were too saddened to leave. There was something off with this place, and none of them wanted to find out what it was exactly.

As they met up with Max, outside the hospital, David realised that this was indeed going to be a long day.

"Sorry boys, nothing new today." Max was about to turn around, entering the hospital again, when David spoke up.

"Seriously? It's been six days. We need some fucking money."

"You better watch your tone," the man gave him a stern look, "there many that would kill to work for me."

Knowing this would get them nowhere, they decided to try their luck on the streets. That's how they spent their day, trying to figure out who they could steel from and, most often, succeeding. At the end of the day, they had made three pounds stealing from the rich. It was enough to pay rent for another week and to buy food for the next couple of days. David grinned - Mia would be happy.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" Mia opened the door, noticing that her brother had brought home the others. "I've got so much to tell you!"

"What happened?" Dwayne sat down at the kitchen table, opening a bottle of gin. Marko had grabbed five glasses, while Paul helped Mia to a chair. She was still not wearing her glasses and had in the five steps it took to get from the front door to the kitchen already bumped into something twice.

"Lucinda stepped by today. She's back in town," Mia explained. Lucinda had always been a friend to the boys. They had met a long time ago when she had saved them from a prison sentence. Ever since they had been close, even if she was richer than they could ever dream of being. "She said that a European doctor had arrived and that he's trained in anything to do with the eyes."

"Mi, love, we can't afford new glasses." Paul ran his hand through her hair.

"I know - but that's not the point! She is engaged to him, and she's going to ask him to see if he can do something about my eyes as a favour. Isn't that just great?"

"It sounds too good to be true," Marko said, and Mia noticed his tone immediately. She quieted down a bit.

"You think it's a scam?"

"Dangerous, at least. I wouldn't trust him."

"Lucy also offered to talk to him about maybe getting eye surgery, if that's possible in my case." She said it softly, already guessing how her brothers would react.

"That'd be experimental then, right?" Dwayne looked at her as she nodded.

"Absolutely not!" David slammed his cup down on the table. "You will not get fucking surgery of we already think this whole thing is sketchy in the first place."

Mia sighed. "I know. It would just be nice to also help out, you know? Before I got fired-"

"You were hurt every single day by your boss. Don't worry about it," Paul pulled her close, letting her lean against him.

David looked at his sister. "Sorry, kid." He grabbed the money they'd collected today out of his pocket. "We can afford some food the next couple of days, though."

And with that, the whole conversation was forgotten. Mia and the boys made plans for dinner, and David went off to pay the rent.

1987, Santa Carla

"Where's Mia now?"

Laddie looked at David, who sighed as he lit a cigarette. "She's gone."

"Oh. Why did she want that eye surgery? It sounds scary."

"It is, especially back then, She was nearsighted. She couldn't see for shit. The glasses she had weren't right, and we couldn't afford better ones. She got headaches, so she never wore them. She was always bumping into things," he smiled at the memory, "So, after a while, she began looking into other things that could help restore her sight."

"Could they?"

"God no. Glasses were what she needed. We stole them quite often, but none of them were right for her."

"What happened next?"

"Lucinda stepped by. And then both she and Mia got sick."

August 1897, Santa Carla

"He is so perfect," Lucinda giggled as she poured Mia some tea. They were sitting in the garden of Lucinda's estate. Well, her parents' estate. "Just last night, he said he'd be with me forever. Isn't that romantic?"

"Quite so!" Mia smiled. "When will you get married? Will you get married? You also had an offer from the governors son, did you not?"

"In a fortnight, obviously you and your brothers will have to be there - I simply won't get married without them there. And yes, I did - but honestly, Wolfram is an idiot. He wouldn't know how to open a letter if I didn't instruct him. So, I have decided that Doctor Holmwood was the best match."

"Why? So you can show how much richer you're getting?" Dwayne walked in, a teasing grin on his face. He grabbed a chair and moved to sit at the table.

"Absolutely!" She smiled. "It is weird, though.."

"What is?" Mia reached for her teacup, cursing under her breath as some hot tea spilt over her fingers when she hit the cup too hard. She knew she should have worn her glasses - things would still be fuzzy, but not as much as they were now. But then she had to deal with headaches - and those were worse.

"Ever since I got engaged to him, I have been having nightmares. The strangest dreams, really."

"Aren't you just worried about the wedding?" Mia offered, while Dwayne asked what the dreams were about.

"I'm always sleep walking, all the way to the cemetery. And once there, I'm being haunted and hunted, taunted. It's horrifying. And just yesterday, I had the exact same dream, but this time, some monster grabbed me by the throat and actually bit me."

They were silent for a moment. "When did they start?"

"When we arrived in London, I think. I just hoped they'd stop once we were back home."

"How about you sleep at our place tonight?" Dwayne looked at Lucinda. "Maybe it will stop the nightmares."

"That would be lovely." Lucinda smiled brightly. "I'll go home and grab some stuff, and I'll be there before dinner." She smiled at Mia, taking her hand as she was about to speak up. "I'll make sure to bring some food along, don't worry."

That night, after dinner, Mia and Lucinda went off to bed. They'd listened to the stories the boys told, about running from the cops and getting a new assignment from Max - apparently there was a new Lord in town, and they needed to figure out who he was. The girls stepped into the bed, after making sure that the boys would be alright.

"We'll manage," David looked at Mapia. "Just make sure the two of you get some sleep, alright?"

Mia nodded, and after chatting for a bit, both girls fell asleep quickly. Only a few hojrs later, the boys did the same. The house was quiet. No one moved. No one spoke.

So, they didn't notice that they'd forgotten to lock the window. They didn't notice how it slammed open, a dark figure standing on the windowsill. They didn't notice how that same dark figure moved forward, bending over both girls. They didn't notice that the dark figure only had eyes for Mia, longingly stroking her arm, but deciding to leave her untouched for now. He could always claim her later. Now, it was time for his first conquest. It was time for her to join him.

It wasn't until early morning that Mia awoke. "Luce?" She asked sleepily as she felt a heavy weight on her stomach. She blinked, sitting up. As she moved closer, she couldn't help but scream. The body next to her was ice cold. The throat was ripped open. The whole bed was covered in blood. Lucinda had been killed. Brutally murdered. And she just slept through it, not able to help one of her dearest friends.

"Mia, what -" David pulled his sister away from the bed, holding her tight as she cried, upon seeing the massacre on the sheets. The other boys entered the room just as quickly, immediately moving to see if they could figure out who had entered the room. They needed to know who had done this.

"You're alright, love," David led Mia to the small bathroom, making sure that all the blood was washed off of her body.

"Is she - is she dead?"

David nodded. Mia closed her eyes, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, trying to even her breathing. "How did I - how could I sleep through that? She - "

"Mia, look at me," David kneeled down so he was at eye level with her. "There was nothing you could have done."

Mia nodded quietly. He knew she didn't believe him, but he'd repeat it over and over until it got through.

The rest of the day was chaos. They had to call the police, Lucinda's family, her fiancé. People came and went. Pictures were taken of the crime scene, and every one of them was questioned. At the end of the day, Mia had no tears left to cry, and the boys felt just the same. That night, the house was quiet, them softly talking about their times with Lucinda. How she helped them out when they got in trouble with the law. How she was the first and only person to ever catch them red-handed - they had tried to pickpocket from her after all, even after she had saved them from jail. She had smiled and just given them some money. She had always been like an older sister to them, taking care of them when needed and always being there for both the good and the bad. She had brought humour, charm, and insights into how to best steal from the rich - and now she was gone.

1987, Santa Carla

"So, was she killed by a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"That's how he changed her. We just didn't know that at the time. We also didn't know what we would become eventually, or we would have never done what we had done."

"What did you do?"

David shook his head. His cigarette had turned into ashes, and he heard the other boys returning. "I'll tell you tomorrow. You need to go to sleep now."

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #lost boys #dracula au