#blood is messier than water

[redhairmaybedontcaretoomuch]

Two weeks. It took two weeks for a family member to TEXT me back. I was in a dark place and had some heavy questions, and got all the answers I really needed in those two weeks of radio silence.

Message received.

Black sheep embraced.

Chosen family loved harder and hugged longer than before ❤️

After years of fighting to survive, I truly don’t have the energy to fight for anyone’s half-hearted love. Relative or not.

It hurts. But I’ll heal. I always do.

I didn’t think I’d make it anywhere near this long once my parents died but here we are. Still tired. Still fighting.

❤️

#personal #just love and grow #feeling pretty abandoned #blood is messier than water #it is what it is #vent post

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #malleus draconia #twst malleus #yandere malleus draconia

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green

WC: 1329 Masterpost CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.

The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.

Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”

“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”

“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.

The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”

“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”

“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”

“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”

There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.

The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”

-

The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.

Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.

This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.

“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.

“Red—”

“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”

The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.

Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.

“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.

“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”

“Lends credence to…”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”

“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.

He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.

Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.

“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”

Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.

“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”

“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.

It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.

“Don’t run his DNA.”

“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”

“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”

All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”

“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”

Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”

“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”

“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”

“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”

“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”

“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.

Tim flicked him off just to do so.

After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.

“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”

--- AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.

Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)

Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!

#dp x dc #batpham #trauma tuesday #city pigeons

[4izawas]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝. ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “Yes, this tight cunt’s mine to fuck — mine to breed, isn’t it?”

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: genshin impact | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zhongli/reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.03k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap, breeding kink, jealousy, zhongli’s given name pre-morax is lapis, voyeurism, previously established relationship, mentions of kidnapping, star goddess reader, first descender zhongli, yandere zhongli, darling reader, hinted neuvillette/reader.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: y’all chose yan zhongli so eat up bitches HDBXHRBHC

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

“I — I — O-Oh, Lapis!” The shrill cry echoes through the hills below as the mighty dragon claims his prize. 

Ever since the nonhuman male had first descended from the stars with the goddess gripped tightly in one arm, the world of Teyvat ( though messy and unmolded by anything ) had changed forever. Ruled by dragons of all kinds, Lapis fit well amongst the beastly kings and queens that reigned unchecked, his wicked nature festering like an infected wound amongst the cruelty of this new world. 

You, the woman he’d dragged along with him ( his woman as he preferred to refer to you in the company of peers ) weren’t so fond of the current world order. The Dragon Lords were cruel and unjust aside from the Water Lord of the Great Lake north of the desert, and Lapis rarely allowed you to visit him in frequent fits of jealousy; he knew how much affection the Water Lord harbored for you, and he knew you returned these feelings. He’d have killed the other male long ago if that were any sort of option, but he had no means of controlling the many storms the Water Lord reigned over, nor would any of the minor drakes within the Water Lord’s territory appreciate the new order he’d instate — so for now, the Water Lord would live. 

“Let’s see him smile at you so blatantly next season’s meeting when you’re fat with my clutch, yes?” the Stone Lord growls into your ear possessively, pounding into your sopping hole from behind as you wail and clutch at the stone beneath your fingers. The meeting earlier this week had run long and had been torturous, and Lapis had forced back endless growls and snarls at the sight of you and the Water lord being so keen on each other as if he couldn’t see you. 

Once the meeting was over, he’d not even bothered allowing you to make it to the bed before wrenching off your clothes and pressing himself inside of you, his run-thin patience snapping like too thin ice on a lake on the first day of winter. That was how you’d found yourself here, with copious loads of cum that he’d already pumped your abused cunt full of leaking down your legs and forming a puddle on the floor between them. The part of you that could still think wondered if he’d make you lap it up later; it wouldn’t be the first time. 

 “L-Lapis, please-“ you moan weakly, letting out cries as he thrusts even harder into your hungry hole as your voice reaches his ears. 

“Yes, beloved?” he purrs, pressing his front against your back as his hips piston against you. His heavy balls slap against your sensitive skin, and you whimper from the feeling as the overstimulation of it slowly begins to overwhelm you. “You’re wanting more? Don’t worry, dear one, you’ll get it.”

“No-o, can’t,” you whine, fingers clawing slowly at the floor as he fucks you harder into it. A sharp cry of pain falls from your lips as he bites hard onto your shoulder and locks on, his fanged teeth burying themselves in your flesh and marking you up as he likes. “L-Lapis!”

Releasing you, he growls, “You are mine!” as his claws dig into you, and your eyes roll back in your head slightly as the sharp tools of death dig thick lines through your soft skin. Blood runs down in slow streams as he picks up the pace, each thrust getting messier than before as he approaches his climax, and you let out a long, low wail. You don’t notice, but the Water Lord rushes up in worry to check on you, having heard you screaming; Lapis, however, senses him instantly, and is more than pleased to show off his claim. 

“You’re my pretty little whore of a goddess, aren’t you?” he asks mockingly, his voice soft yet cruel. You only respond with a dumbed out ‘Uh-huh’, drooling slightly and pushing back on his thick length. Large even when disguised as a human, you were lucky tonight that he’d not decided to fuck you with the twin lengths he possessed due to his lineage of being a dragon. “Yes, this tight cunt’s mine to fuck — mine to breed, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes!” you moan, eyes slightly rolled back. “Yes, yes — Breed me, Lapis, I’want it!” A choked noise from the shadowy thicket not far away reaches Lapis’ ears, and he grins into the soft skin of your throat; maybe the bastard would finally get the message that your pretty face was something to be admired from a distance. “Fill me up, fuck me full — wanna have your babies, Lapis, please!”

“I will, sweet girl, you don’t have to beg!” Lapis promises you gently, his hips still snapping into yours. Gods above, fighting off the urge to fill you so far’s been hell. “It’s all for you, and only you: my beautiful embodiment of the night sky, my goddess of the stars.”

A shrill wail leaves your mouth as you clench tightly around him. A roar falls from his lips as the feeling of you cumming around him send him over the edge as well, and his claws dig into you all over again as he fills you up once again another countless time. Lapis allows himself to relax into the feeling, content with the presence of the Water Lord having disappeared; maybe the bastard had finally learned his place. 

The two of you lay like that, his cum filling you up and a cloudy feeling in your head as you bask in the feelings your captor had bestowed upon you. There was no doubt in his mind ( just as there’d be no doubt in yours once you fully came to ) that his seed would take tonight, not with how much he’d bred your hole over the last few hours. You’d soon be forced to grow round and fat with his damned spawn, carry his children and raise them with love, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And after tonight, when he’d witnessed the way you’d begged for your kidnappers cum, you didn’t even have Neuvillette to lean on for support anymore. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #morax x reader #morax x you #rex lapis x reader #rex lapis x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[klausysworld]

Could you do another part of my queen where the Scooby-Doo gang kidnaps y/n thinking she is just a random normal wolf that Klaus cares about like a pet, but then Bonnie finds out what she is and so they try to use her against Klaus with the help of Esther so they turn her into a human?

My Queen PT2

PT1

Since realising I was the wolf that saved him so many times a thousand years ago, Klaus had become much more eager to spend time with me. He seemed to believe he needed to take care of me, as though he owed it to me because of how I watched over him in the past.

He began to leave steaks outside my den and often tried to bring me into his house but I always refused him. He was the kind of person to not let me leave.

I was a wolf, not a pet dog.

And he became very aware of that when I bit his wrist so hard he nearly cried after he attempted to put a collar on him.

His siblings found the situation bizarre and I don’t blame them. Elijah often sighed when Niklaus tried to lure me into the house.

It seemed the Mikaelsons weren’t the only people who thought me to be a pet.

Salvatores, Gilberts, Forbes and Bennetts did too.

So much so that they had caged me and belittled me. They mocked and tormented me while I paced back and forth thinking of a way to get past. I could force my way out, break the bars and bite them all but I had so much wolves bane in my system that I probably wouldn’t get very far at all.

Besides the stupid witch was doing tests on me which weakened me by the minute and the vampires had buckets of wolfs bane mixed water ready to drown me in if I stepped out of line. Which I figured out wasn’t a bluff when I attempted to bite their precious human.

I remained as calm as I could for as long as I could. In fact I only really became more aggressive when a scarred Esther showed up with an arrogant Finn at her side.

She and Bonnie conversed and before I knew it my entire body was screaming at me in absolute agony.

It was as though my blood was on fine and burning me from the inside out, my limbs all bent the wrong ways and my spine snapped out of place.

I forced myself to my paws on shaky legs and began to bolt, I weaved past the witches. The others had left assuming it would take longer for the spell to take place.

I could hear them yelling and my teeth sunk into Finn’s leg when he lunged forward to grab me making him topple over to the ground and his in pain.

Everything hurt as I dashed through the streets alarming the locals and causing havoc and disaster as cars began to crash and people screamed. My senses were going haywire as my insides were stabbed at.

My body became off balanced as my back legs become longer than my front. I rolled forward and my paws fingers got tangled in my fur hair. My yelp sounded softer than usual and my breathing was heavier. I laid still on the ground for a moment when I saw two arms infront of me. I could feel my heart beating faster and I could feel my skin touching my skin. My fingers twitched and I lifted my hand in horror. I rolled onto my back and with far too much effort, pushed myself up with the palms of my hands.

What the fuck.

I looked down with wide eyes and my lips parted when I poked at my knees, I stretched my toes out with a look of disbelief on my face and hesitantly reached up to touch my nose. My teeth were blunt and and my snout was nonexistent and neither were my whiskers. I could hear my breathing quickening as I frantically looked at my new body.

My hair kept falling infront of my vision, it was as white as my fur but much longer and messier. I had little to no fur hair on the rest of my body making me feel weird as I slowly stood up. I grimaced at the feel of dirt and sticks against my feet, they hurt much more than when it was against my paws. I took a step forward only to return straight back to the ground due to leaning too far forward and having to push myself back up. I got onto my hands and knees before dragging myself to a nearby tree and pulling myself up.

This is not fun.

I basically hobbled through the woods, every step caused a horrible sting in the bases of my feet and the bark of the trees scratched my hands and my breasts if I got too close which hurt much more than I had thought. Thankfully the sky was getting darker so people shouldn’t be around. Stupid hikers and campers.

Thankfully only one guy saw me and he was clearly not in the right mind as he just gave me a thumbs up and walked off with a low whistle.

This would be the only time I am grateful for Klaus bringing me to his home so often because now I had memorised all of the ways there. It took way too long to get here but I made it.

I stared at the door blankly and hit my hands against it harshly making me wince as the sting that spread over my palms and pads of my fingers.

I heard a loud grumbling and a string of curses from Niklaus before the door opened making me stumble slightly as some of my weight had been against it. I fell against his chest and his arms circled me instantly.

God inside here was warm. It was absolutely fucking freezing without my fur and his body radiated heat like an open flame would.

His throat cleared but I didn’t look up at him, only stayed against him somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in this position. I heard footsteps and turned my head to see Elijah with a frown on his face

“Niklaus…why on earth are you hugging a naked girl in the middle of the night?” He asked getting nearer. His eyes locked on mine before glancing at my hair and back to my eyes again, his brows raised and he cleared his throat before turning his head and walking over out of my sight line. He returned within a second and a soft material was brought over my shoulders. I was guided away from Niklaus’s arms.

“You didn’t let anyone know that your little friend here could turn human” Elijah muttered quietly but not quietly enough apparently.

Klaus looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth as his hand reached out in front of my face making me bare my teeth. His brows furrowed and I frowned before realising I didn’t exactly look very threatening like this.

“I wasn’t aware either” he whispered as his eyes dragged down my body making me pull the blanket around me and give him a dirty look. He blinked at me before apologising breathlessly and looking to Elijah in utter confusion.

He turned back to me with a hesitant look on his face, “my Queen…how long have you been human?” He asked, his tone almost nervous as he stared at me.

“For gods sake you two, look at her, clearly not very long” Rebekah’s voice came from my right before she was right beside me. “Come on flower, let’s get you washed and dried” she told me, her hands grabbed my arms and she pulled me along. I had not idea what to do. I didn’t know how to talk and I wasn’t able to just bite any of them. My cuts weren’t healing and I felt uncomfortable with everything about me.

My eyes widened at the stair case and my head shook quickly. “Come on, it’s okay” she tried as her hand pulled at mine, she tugged harder and my claws nails dug into her wrist and she let go with a curse. “Why you little-“

“Rebekah! Leave her be” Klaus growled before I felt his hand in my hip making me shift “it’s alright sweetheart, I’m going to lift you and take you up okay? We’ll figure this all out as soon as possible” I said nothing only stiffened and looked at him as I was carried up the stairs, one of his arms went under the back of my knees and the other against my back. I kept as still as I could until I was carefully put back down on my feet.

I looked around in confusion at the cold floors and shiny walls. My eyes widened and I stepped back when water began to blast against a big glass box.

“In you go love, into the shower” he directed while pushing me forward, the blanket was taken from me and I was under the hot water. I looked to him in slight betrayal and he gave a faint smile. I looked at him helplessly until he sighed and pushed his pants down and stepped in behind me. “Alright my Queen, everything’s gonna be okay, I’ll get you all clean and we can get some rest. I’ll get a witch out to help”

I tensed when he mentioned a witch but he didn’t comment on it and instead brought his fingers into my hair while the water poured over it and foamy soap fell to the base of the shower. His hands slid down my back and to my hips making me swallow thickly and turn around to look up at him. He was much taller in human form compared to our wolves.

I had seen Niklaus without any clothes many times after he turned but never had my body reacted the way it was now. Everything felt much hotter and my lower abdomen tingled. I looked up to see his brows risen as his head tilted to the side with a growing smirk on his lips

“Well you certainly are different like this aren’t you?” He hummed making me growl quietly in my throat though it sounded much softer than I had hoped and he chuckled. “Not quite the same affect hm?” His hand cupped my face and his thumb rubbed over my lower lip making my brows furrow “not so strong now are we little wolf?” He cooed at me like I was a child’s, so I did the only logical thing I could think of and bit his thumb.

He hissed and snatched his hand away making me see my opening and rush out of the shower, I was dripping wet as I ran out the bathroom and through his room only for him to appear directly infront of me at the doorway. I let out an ‘mph’ as I knocked into him and winced at the impact against my breasts.

I shoved at his chest but was lifted up and tossed onto his bed making me yelp. In a flash he was back on top of me and my face was heating up significantly as his naked body pressed to mine. My body reacted on its own to him and I was starting to get annoyed with myself. “You need to calm down love” he whispered lowly and a delightful sensation ran along my spine. My breathing picked up and my thighs squeezed together. His fingers brushed over my cheek and he gently kissed the corner of my mouth. “I shouldn’t have belittled you, I got carried away with how adorable you are as a human” he murmured and I let out a breath. “I never expected you to be human my queen, I didn’t think about how desirable you’d look” he whispered “but you’re all confused at the moment and clearly been through something so for now, I will get you something to cover up your stunning body so that I don’t pounce on you…again” he smiled and I gave a weak one in response.

With much reluctance he got me into a shirt and underwear, him self in a similar state and beckoned me over to his side of the bed. I shuffled closer and he brought an arm around me, my nose pressed to his chest and i breathed in his scent. He didn’t smell as strong without my wolf nose but he still smelt nice.

His hand stroked the back of my head pleasantly and I sunk into the bed, being a human wasn’t awful per say but I sure as hell hoped that those stupid witches burned for it.

#wolf reader #wolf!klaus #yandere!klaus #yandere wolf klaus #wolf yandere #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #niklaus imagines #klaus m #klaus michaelson #the vampire diares imagine #klaus mikaelson x y/n #rebekah mikaelson #tvd klaus #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader

[undercoverpena]

a handful of birthdays

captain john price x f!reader wordcount: 3k | warnings: cod typical fashion, fluff. an: reader's callsign is ash, because...

The first birthday you spent together he didn’t know the day held any important significance. 

He was gruff, all smirks and cigar smoke. The drinks flow too easily after a successful operation, liquor burning the back of your throat as you try to keep up. 

On another plane, somewhere else, you’re sure you do.

Tonight, Price must know that it’s hitting you quicker, swapping your drink for water, touching the end of his nose at you—our secret. 

Then, his knee is pressed against yours, occasionally bobbing up and down. The movement sends vibrations up your bones at the same time as the music crackles through the speakers. 

Some songs you knew, some you didn’t—but he knew all of them. Occasionally finding him lip-syncing to them, not realising anyone—least of all you—was studying him as intently as you were. 

It arrives slowly, your feeling for him. Beginning at admiration and ending somewhere at quickened heart rates and sweaty palms. 

Sometimes, more especially in moments like this, when he’s soft and laid back, he makes your chest tighten. Feeds your mind and soul with ideals you’re not sure you’ll ever get. A little British home somewhere, a bay window and plenty of walnut furniture for him to bend you over. A girl can dream—you tell yourself. It provides the basis for wishful thoughts and serene daydreams. 

It isn’t until far later. When you weren’t able to be as surreptitious, your brain still fuddled and slow from spirits you had no business drinking doubles of. 

His fingers brush against the side of your knee, hidden, cautious. The table empties as darts entertain the others, leaving the two of you in the booth. 

“Should stop staring at me, love.” 

“Why’s that?” 

He leans in, basking you in the scent of smoky leather and fresh earth. “A man might think you like looking at me.” 

He had no idea when he lay chapped lips against yours what the day was. As his palm cups your cheek under the stars and moon, tongue sliding past your lips as the two of you lose all decorum in a dark, damp alleyway.

Price gave you a present you had wanted for ages—one you had never felt brave enough to ask for. It was make-believe, something too good that your fingers would never truly have. 

Yet, here you were, fists clenching around his jacket, wondering if you can pull the beanie from his head to run your fingers through his hair. 

“Do you kiss all your subordinates, Pricey?”

“Only the pretty ones, love.”

You never told him what the night was to you. Not even when things become messier, your bodies become just as acquainted as your lips. His calloused fingers burned notes and secrets into your hips as he made you feel full and good, over and over. 

In time, he fills a space in your life you hadn’t known was there. Entering and filling the space all carved just for him. He asks the little things when you’re lay on his chest, favourite colour, cake, drink…

But, each time that question comes up, you skirt it. Distracting him, throwing him off from the conversation either with a long kiss or a flirtatious stare. 

Because it’s gone on too far now, and you’re not sure how to undo it. 

So you don’t. 

Joining your lips with his, fingers cradling his cheek. 

Your second birthday arrived, and the two of you had blurred the line between what you both were. 

Colleagues. Lovers. Friends. 

A mess of knitted-together feelings and odd statements you didn’t have the true capacity to untangle. 

An entirely different one than the year before.

You were caked in blood, mud and soot. The wind knocked from your lungs, cold and warmth spreading in ripples through your stomach as you landed on your back—stones embedding into your vest and clothes. 

You felt each one. Small lumps you wanted to wipe from the pressure points, but the pain in your stomach stopped you. 

He was on his knees (fewer lines, and less facial hair—than he has now). The look then was the same as it was now, secretive panic hidden behind duty and pride. 

The latter is something akin to what you imagined for your special day. 

You’d hoped to have him on his knees when you woke. You had just hoped it would be on something solid, with less moss and more carpet. 

Blue eyes twinkled down at you, like a jewel from the ocean. Your hand grasping his vest, scarlet coating in soft waves over your fingers—warm, and slick. 

He’s solid. Real. 

Not a fantasy—very much a reality. 

“The fuck—”

The taste of copper hanging heavy in the air, peppering your tongue and burning the insides of your nose. You wonder if it’s doing the same to him. 

Bypassing the soft mix of the blonde and brunette moustache to crawl into his brain—to root yourself somewhere you shouldn’t be found. 

You have experience of that. 

Being in places you shouldn’t be. His bed, for one of them—

“Listen t’me, Soldier—”

He’s paling. Visibly. 

The shade he has become required him to go through a quick transition to get there. It makes the dirt and dust on his cheeks stand out more than they already do. But it’s his eyes—those blue icy things which force warmth into your cheeks. The sight of them making a breath cling to your throat, sticking, struggling to escape or be swallowed.

You’d listen to him forever. Your eyes slowly blink, clinging to him with all your mustered strength. 

“—Keep y’hand here for me. Can y’do that, love?”

Love.

It rolls from his tongue, sliding into your ears like sweet syrup.

John has called it you before—but your Lieutenant never has. He refrains from even looking, letting himself believe he has nothing to be absolved from. As if he doesn’t take you apart at every chance he can get—the legs of your cot bed having stories many would love to hear. 

His gloved fingers click, right in front of your face. 

“Ash, keep ‘em on me.”

“M’birthday, Pricey.”

You don’t mistake the line between his brows. The one he lets escape—allows to crack his facade. He tries, though. Bottles you up and hides you behind layers and walls so complex, you wonder whether he’d have been a good bricklayer. 

This, though, he struggles to stuff down. Unable to stifle the range of emotions which must hammer into him—equalling the thinnest, briefest line to appear before his brows smooth out, evening back to the face of a stiff, stern lieutenant. 

“Say h-happy birthd-day to me.”

The pain is dissolving. Slowly fading, a numbness spreading. You’re not a fool—you remember the training, the signs. 

“Please, John.”

You never ask him for anything.

Not a handhold. Not a hug. Nothing outside of four walls of secrecy and privacy. You let him take, and you willingly give. So, you hope—pray with the smallest margin you have left—he’ll bless you with this. 

“No, love,” he whispers, sliding one hand under your knees and the other under your neck. “Still be y’birthday when I get you to Evac.” 

The third birthday you spent with him, you’d awoken to fingers curled inside of you and his head between your thighs. 

Your legs parted for him as his breath blew on your core like you were both a candle and a cake he was about to devour.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your core, his tongue drawing a circle against you before plunging between your folds. 

Your nails find his scalp, fingers carving through his hair as thick whimpers slam into the quiet of the morning. Trying to swallow his name, throat sore from saying it like a chant only hours ago as he made you come undone over, and over again. 

It was rare for the two of you to be amongst the countryside. 

Off duty—alone. 

It had taken a moment to grow used to it. For guards to drop and fingers to mould with him. 

The small cottage nestled into a hill, surrounded by beech trees and cooing birds—the scent of his smoked cigars still hanging in the air, swirls of it still appearing in the crack of light through the unopened curtains. 

You want to take me away? Don’t act surprised, love. Y’insatiable. A good dirty weekend might make y’listen more.  Surprised you know the word insatiable, Captain.  Less of that. What? Captain? But that’s your new title.

You came around his fingers, his gruff and deep voice coaching you through it—reminding you how good you are, how pretty you are. 

It wasn’t until you were watching squirrels chase, mug warm in your palm did he call for you. Having been told to sit down, rest up. One of his football shirts keeps you decent in case walkers passed the cottage and the unshut curtains. 

Your name fell gently from his lips into the air, as though any louder and nature would scurry away. Maybe it would, with how his voice so often boomed, how it carried through walls, your muscles and bones. 

Teeth bite down from saying a comment, the words thankfully catching as you turn to find him with a small porcelain plate in hand, and on top of it, the choux cake from the bakery window yesterday.

“Happy birthday, love.”

It pulls from you with ease, your smile. More so as he pulls his other hand from behind his back, a single candle and lighter in between his fingers. 

“Bit different from how we spent the last one, aye?”

“A touch.” 

He laughs, in that low way that he does. “C’mere then, gotta blow out y’candles for me.”

“Do you want me to make a wish too?”

“If there’s something y’wanna wish for, why not?” 

There isn’t. 

You think, placing the mug down on the side table, shuffling towards him as you feel your face burn and your ears warm. 

I’d only wish for you, John.

The two of you promised not to mix work with pleasure. 

Something you had both done well at keeping until Laswell called. Her voice is all direct, but with an added sprinkle of softness—the tone you’ve come to know as begging. 

It’s different from the one she uses when she’s sitting at your table, a bottle of wine undone and John’s hand on your knee. 

That’s Kate. 

A friend—someone who doesn’t like brussels sprouts with their roasts, but likes broccoli and peas. 

His lack of surprise told you he’d been briefed, but the clench of his fist told you he wasn’t happy about it. The microexpressions of Captain John Price are well ingrained in you—having spent years learning them, curating a museum dedicated to them in your mind. 

No one knows the two of you are… well…would you say together? Kate, when we figure it out, I’ll let you know. 

If he hated you being around him here, in his task force he’d handpicked, he said nothing. Nodding firmly, all short. Handing you a file and continuing with the briefing. 

After it finishes, it’s easy to accept a drink. 

To fall behind the silent, tallest member—the one you have heard of the most—and the smiling Scot, the one who was bursting with questions that he wouldn’t allow himself to ask. 

He waits until there’s a drink in both your hands. Gesturing it to you, beating John—something you’re not entirely sure if he’s happy about or not. 

“Ash not your name then?”

“Is Soap yours?”

The Scot smirks, teeth slowly appearing. “Y’funny, lass.”

“Ash3—arsine.” 

Soap’s brows knit, having already lost him—confused him. A sight which almost makes you chuckle, allowing it to escape if not for the way you feel him stare. All silent, still brooding—likely trying to unpick how he feels about this. 

“It’s a colourless gas,” you continue. “Highly flammable. It apparently smells like garlic—I hear. Can’t tell you if it’s true—it’s quite poisonous.”

Soap’s head tilts, and you allow your eyes to scan over the others. But you linger on a pair of blue eyes not beside you, watching as the captain smirks against his glass, hat tilted down to cast shadows over his eyes—like you wouldn’t be able to feel them sweeping over you in thick, torturous waves. 

“I like to make things go boom and I like garlic, Soap.”

He’s scrunching his nose when you look back at him. 

“She’s windin’ you up, Johnny.”

You grin, tilting your glass in Ghost’s direction. 

“He’s right, I am kidding, it’s actually because—”

“Lass, if there’s more science, I cannae’ take it.”

You nudge him as you laugh, swirling your glass, the ice having slowly melted. “What’s left behind after things go boom, Soap?”

“Smoke. Death… shit—ash.”

You smirk, lifting your glass as you drain it. “Boom.” 

Boom, you think when your back meets brick. 

A firm hand on your hip, another hand flat against the space close to your head—an explosion of sorts happening behind blue eyes, making you unsure if you’re about to be ripped apart or made to feel whole. 

Momentarily, he throws it all away as he slots his mouth over yours. Having some semblance of normal as he kisses his love, his adoration and appreciation with each movement of his lips. 

“Y’shouldn’t be here.”

“Oops.”

John grits his jaw, tightening it. “Love—”

“Who better to keep me safe, than my Captain.”

“I’m everyone’s Captain.”

You shrug, drawing shapes on his jaw—his chin. “John.”

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“That’s better.”

The sixth time his bones were aching, muscles heavy. 

The two of you were running on fumes and prayers. 

Neither of you were able to sleep the night before. You had tried, but the memories the two of you had made in his place, had made you nostalgic. 

Needing him. Wanting him. Never tiring of him even if packing had almost taken you to a new level of exhaustion. 

John had been more than obliging to fuck you slow, deep. Making you still feel him, even now, hours and hours later. A goodbye to the place, to the memories, and just because. 

Each time he gets the chance, John makes up for the times he couldn’t. Making you whimper, shiver and cry his name. He leaves little marks on your skin that he goes to find a day or two later, either remaking them or kissing them softly.  

Your hands clutch the box, carrying it through the bright red door, the sea of black writing scribbled against brown boxes greets your eyes in the empty room.

It had been a dream—a pipe dream. One you’d let take you to sleep when the wind ran through trees and rain hammered against leaking ceilings. 

It had been there, something to cling to when he’d held your skin together. It rolled from your tongue in slow whispers when he’d been injured, providing something to hold on to. To fight for. 

Now, it was a reality. 

All real and magnolia, with a white ornate fireplace he said he’d fuck you in front of in the winter. The fireplace is the second thing in your life you truly fell in love with—the first being him.  

It warms you, the memories. Even as the spring weather slides through the open door, biting into exposed skin. His scent is already nestling into the corners of the home you’ll share, greeting you as you return with the last box. 

You watch him dig his thumbs into his back, keeping an eye on him as he stares around—likely taking in the blessed reality the two of you were able to carve. 

“Honey, I’m home.”

He looks over his shoulder, sweat beading on his forehead, tiredness swirling around his eyes, but he still chuckles. Still smiles.

“Y’gonna say that each time you bring a box in?”

“Unless you can think of some other way to keep me quiet, yeah.”

He snorts, a short puff of air as he takes the box from your hands—placing it on top of the others. 

You fully expect him to walk past you, not bracing as he tugs you forward, pulling you by your hips into him—palm flat to his chest and the other on his arm. 

So often, his smile is tight, almost like it’s forced. But here, under the roof the two of you bought and the walls you’ll slowly decorate, it’s gentle, soft—full of love. 

“Better.”

“What?”

He shrugs, studying you as he slides his hand down your spine to cup the back of your jeans. “Y’being this close.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Only for you, love.”

“I’ve seen you on missions, John. I know you can turn that on and off like this.” 

Your fingers click, eyes shimmering and smirk full of teasing. 

You know he’s yours. The light catching the metal on his finger all being proof of it. Remembering the way he danced with you under flickering fairy lights to a slow song full of romance and guitars. Him in a suit, you in something white. 

Now, the walls of your new home you’re both standing in cementing it—how much he’s yours. 

Always been yours, love. Even if you don’t know the lyrics to the good songs. 

Wrapping your arm around his neck, you nuzzle into his neck, staring around—unsure how two people amass so much when they’re barely home. 

“Lots of rooms.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, you lift your head, tilting your hips into his. Watching a mini explosion happen in his eyes—darkness blooming across blue, swirling and dancing until it tries to hide in the shadows. 

“Your back able to fuck me in each of the ground floor rooms, or you tired, old man?”

His jaw tightens, lips pursing as he brings you flush against him. “Less of the old, soldier.”

“Oo, soldier? Apologies, Captain.”

He grins, breath dancing over your skin as he ghosts his lips so close—almost brushing them to meet yours. “Haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

Smiling, you let your fingers flutter over his chin. “Colour me intrigued.” 

“Close the front door, love. Don’t want the neighbours to hear you thanking me for being a good gift giver.” 

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price #cod price x reader #cod price #cod x reader #cod john price #captain price #captain price x reader #cod captain price #price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain price x you

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over IX (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, forbidden relationship, violence, semi public sex, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, forced pregnancy, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

You cried out when Bunny held the wet rag to your face, Cam reminding you once again to hold your head back. Your vision was still spinning, head pounding, and the loud music of the party wasn’t helping. Your hands shook and against your will, every time you blinked, your eyes watered more.

“This…isn’t going to be pretty,” Bunny murmured, rewetting the rag with cold water.

“You think?” Cam commented, wiping anymore leftover blood from under your nose. “Rafe elbowed her right in the face.”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d scold them both for talking about you like you weren’t even here. There was a pounding on the bathroom door, and somehow you knew exactly who it was. Your eyes closed as Cam cracked the door, and her tone only confirmed your suspicions.

“What do you want?”

“Let me see her,” Rafe hissed. “I wanna make sure she’s okay.”

“So, now you care?”

“Cam-.”

“When she was trying to pull you off of that guy, you got her right in the face and you just kept fighting,” she spat at him.

“I didn’t know,” your boyfriend snarled back, apparently out of patience as he just pushed his way into the small bathroom. “Move.”

Bunny nastily eyed him, and you sniffed, taking the rag from her.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you finally said, and Cam’s gaze met yours. “Can you just give us a minute?”

Neither of them looked the happiest at that, and you sighed.

“It was an accident, and he’s just trying to make sure I’m alright.”

With a roll of her eyes, Cam eventually relented, Bunny reluctantly following and closing the door behind her. As soon as they were gone, Rafe reached for your face, and you turned your head away.

“Let me see,” he murmured.

“Rafe, it hurts.”

The words came out in a harsher tone than you’d meant, and his fingers brushed along your jaw.

“Please,” he whispered, his own tone pleading.

Past the anger of how this night had turned out, you accepted that Rafe felt bad, and you didn’t have the energy to punish him for an accident. You looked at him, and you watched the way his face fell at the way the area between your nose and cheek was already bruising. A little bit more blood dripped from your nostril, and he hurried to grab more tissue.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck indeed.”

His blue gaze met your eyes again at that, and his brows drew together.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been fighting, you know.”

Rafe pressed his lips together, but you couldn’t hold your tongue.

“The guy didn’t even do anything-.”

“He was hitting on you,” he argued, voice hardening, and you sighed.

“Even if he was, that warrants a fight? You think he’s going to be the only guy in the world who might try and hit on me? What, are you going to fight them all?”

“Even if he was? What, you don’t believe me or something? You don’t think he was?” Rafe questioned, a deep frown on his features as he leaned in.

Not wanting to go back and forth about details, you lifted your hands.

“If you think he was, then that’s all that matters, okay?” you sighed. “…but my point is that you can’t just go around starting fights because of that.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, and you noticed some bruising of his own. It was shocking, really, considering he’d been laying into the guy without so much as sparing him a second. His blond hair was messier than usual, and you grimaced at the small stains of blood on his baby blue shirt.

“Why did you even get in it? I didn’t even know it was you trying to stop me, so of course I wasn’t paying attention to who I was pushing away,” he angrily questioned, gesturing towards the door.

“I’m not going to explain myself for not wanting you to get in serious trouble,” you threw back, and Rafe pursed his lips, looking away. “You can’t just go around fighting everyone because you feel like it.”

Pain was flaring in your face now, and you briefly touched your cheek with the rag before tossing it into the sink. Your eyes watered again, but this time for a whole other reason.

“Do you know what this is going to look like tomorrow? How much makeup I’m going to need?”

Rafe dropped his head into his hands, exhaling.

“I know, okay?” he quietly said. “I’m sorry.”

“Pope is already on my ass about my neck,” you sneered, and Rafe slowly lifted his head at that, completely unaware that your brother knew. “If he sees this, you’ll be lucky if I can even step into my front yard.”

Rafe waved his hand, slowly straightening with a frown.

“Woah, woah. Pope saw your neck?” he continued when you nodded. “…and…and I’m just hearing this now because…?”

“…because I didn’t want it to turn into whatever this is about to be,” you whispered. “He was furious. JJ too.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted at that, and he tilted his head. You could see the gears in his head turning, and Rafe leaned against the wall, staring at you.

“Am I safe to assume this was at your house?”

“JJ was with Pope, Rafe,” you sighed, understanding where his mind was headed. “Pope was just looking for something in my room, and JJ was waiting before he got tired of waiting.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you took note of the fact that your face was bruising as you spoke, but meanwhile, you were explaining the reason for JJ’s presence in your house just so Rafe wouldn’t work himself up again. There was a part of you that saw how wrong that was.

“I can’t sit in my house with pounds of makeup on at all times. I shouldn’t have to,” you loudly added.

He pushed himself away from the wall, approaching you and gently reaching for your face. His thumb was softly brushing over your skin, and you couldn’t help the way you flinched.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

“I told you that violence isn’t a normal thing in my life,” you quietly reminded him, and his eyes fell closed. “…and not even just that, but you know how much it scares me to see you like that.”

He nodded, and you continued.

“Not just for your safety, but just in general. It scares me, Rafe.”

“I know-.”

“You say that, but then you go and get into fights,” you pointed out. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Rafe looked towards the ceiling, and you watched him swipe his tongue between his lips.

“So, why do you feel the need to defend something that isn’t going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” was all he eventually came up with.

You reached up to grab his hands, softly asking him to look at you. When he did, his blue eyes were glassy, and your heart clenched. You reminded yourself that what happened was an accident, another accident, and you tried to calm your nerves.

“Please, promise me that you’ll work on this…because I…”

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully.

“This isn’t how I imagined our relationship to be.”

You had his full attention, now.

“This isn’t what I want it to be,” you whispered. “…and I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be worrying over your safety or wondering if another party is going to bring another brawl because some guy looked at me for longer than two seconds.”

Rafe’s face was taut, and he just stared at you, processing your words.

“What are you saying?” he slowly asked.

Your shoulders sagged, and Rafe took a step towards you, hands tightening on yours.

“Rafe, you know what I’m saying.”

The blond swallowed, licking his lip before briefly glancing away. When his eyes met yours again, his frown had deepened.

“So…I defend my girlfriend from creepy guys…and you threaten to leave me?”

“I’m not threatening anything. I’m telling you that this isn’t what I want. Rafe, I don’t want to go anywhere-.”

“So, don’t!”

“So, don’t make me!”

You two stared at each other, frowning, and you tried to make Rafe see where you were coming from. You threaded your fingers through his.

“I like being with you,” you honestly told him, and that seemed to placate him some. “I don’t want anyone else, so, who cares about how some guy looks at me? You’re the only guy I see.”

Rafe studied your face, blond hair hanging into his own, and he stepped closer. When he pressed his lips to yours, you reluctantly kissed him back, wincing a bit with every movement in your face. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, and he heaved a sigh.

“I know you only have eyes for me,” he softly relented. “I know that, but… I feel like you don’t see yourself clearly, beautiful.”

You felt your face heat up at the nickname, and Rafe smiled, brushing his lips over yours again.

“You don’t see how many guys are just waiting for you to give them the opportunity, and because they don’t know I exist…”

He trailed off, and again, you felt guilt eat away at you. You felt Rafe’s heavy gaze on you, and you knew his mind had gone where yours currently was.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

“I’m sorry too,” you told him. “I know this being a secret isn’t easy on you, and…I have to realize that it’s making you more tense than usual.”

Rafe seemed calmer, now, and he wrapped his arm around you, the other reaching for the rag in the sink before wetting it with more cold water. Rafe brushed his lips over your cheek before bringing the cool cloth to your skin.

“Hey, hey! Where are you going?”

You slowed to a stop, thankful that anyone milling around in the yard was too drunk to care about why you and Rafe were arguing like some couple. You resisted the urge to sigh, folding your arms over your chest.

“I’m going home, Rafe.”

You wouldn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Home,” he repeated. “So…what…? You’re just going to walk there?”

“If I must,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently enough to run up what little patience he had left. Rafe’s hands found your arms, and he forced you to face him. There was a deep frown on his face, and as you stared into his eyes, your heart sank with disappointment at how blown his pupils were.

“What’s your problem?” he finally asked, and you scoffed.

“You’re kind of ruining my night, so I’d just rather go home,” you murmured, shaking out of his hold.

Rafe followed you when you made to leave the yard.

“Hey! Talk to me. Don’t just walk away-.”

“You’ve made it clear that talking isn’t going to do anything,” you said, pausing to look at him. “You’re more of an action kind of guy, so I figured I’d just leave.”

You could see Rafe getting more irritated, and you didn’t have much of the heart to care.

“I can’t enjoy my night when you’re staring down any guy who comes within two feet of me, Rafe…”

He was nodding before you even finished, a sarcastic smile on his pink lips.

“Hell, you can’t even enjoy yourself because you’re too busy wondering who I’m talking to and what I’m talking to them about and what they might say to me-.”

“I…I’m sorry for caring about my girlfriend, I guess,” he cut you off, fingers brushing his chest. “Guess that’s my bad for giving a fuck.”

This time you did sigh, rolling your eyes, and you heard Rafe scoff.

“You know this wouldn’t even be a problem if you just told Pope about us. Unless…”

Your gaze met his, and he raised a perfect brow at you.

“Unless Pope isn’t the only one you’re afraid of telling.”

You frowned, lips parting in shock.

“What?” you voiced your exact thoughts.

Rafe shrugged.

“Can you blame me for thinking maybe this isn’t just about Pope?”

“Rafe-.”

“What am I supposed to think when you practically trip over yourself to make sure even strangers don’t know about us?”

“…because it could get back to Pope! This is a small island, Rafe!”

“You sure you’re not just ashamed of me?”

Your stomach dropped at that, and any anger you felt seemed to dissipate as you processed his words.

“Rafe…”

“I’m a screw up. Everyone knows it,” he forced out, and you watched his jaw clench. “…and you… You have this perfect reputation, and you can go to any college you want when you decide to and…”

“Rafe… Rafe! S-stop,” you finally said, stumbling towards him. “I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Well, that’s what it’s starting to feel like!”

He lightly smacked your hands away when you reached for him.

“You know how much Pope means to me,” you slowly said.

“More than me?”

You faltered at that, hating that glassy look in his gaze, and you glanced away.

“Just because you can barely stand to be around Sarah…”

“You’re hurting me to spare his feelings,” he pointed out, and you closed your eyes. “You get that, right?”

“I know,” you quietly agreed.

“He’s not the one fucking you,” he sneered, and you frowned in disgust. “He’s not the one looking out for you when creeps get that light in their eyes.”

You rubbed your temple.

“He’s not going to be the one paying for your tuition when you finally decide to go.”

You froze at that, hands dropping in shock as you stared at him with wide eyes. Rafe said it so casually, like he hadn’t just mentioned shelling out thousands of dollars to help you with whatever college you chose. Rafe didn’t even seem to realize the effect his words had on you.

“What…?”

He finally stopped to look at you, and he laughed—actually laughed at the look on your face.

“Well, of course, I am. You know I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled, and you released a shaky breath, in disbelief at how this night had gone. “That’s why it sucks so much, you know?”

He sniffed.

“…because I’m…I’m ready to give you the world, and you can’t even tell your brother about us.”

Your gaze found the ground at that.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe chuckled, and when you looked at him again, there was a bitter grin on his face.

“…and that’s all she has to say,” he mused, throwing his arms up.

You blinked back tears, and Rafe scoffed.

“You know…if I wasn’t a better man…I’d kiss you for everyone to see.”

Your eyes widened at not just his words, but the venom in his tone.

“I wouldn’t give a fuck about showing everyone on this island who you belong to…”

He slowly walked towards you, a deep sneer on his face as he stared you down. You swallowed as he looked you over, and you reminded yourself that Rafe was high, that he wasn’t in his right mind.

“Least of all, your brother and his Pogue friends,” you didn’t like the way he said that. “What exactly is stopping me from fucking the shit out of you in your own house and making sure everyone hears what I do to you when they aren’t looking?”

You pushed at Rafe’s chest, turning away when his hand snatched your wrist with a quickness, yanking you back towards him.

“Huh?”

His face was almost touching yours, and when you pushed at his chest with your other hand, he grabbed that one too, holding you to him.

“It sure would make my life a whole lot easier,” he whispered.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you choked out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- God! Is that all you can say?”

You leaned away from him.

“How about I’ll do better, Rafe? I’ll try to remember how hard this is for you?”

You tried to pull your wrists out of his hold, but Rafe only tightened his grip, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How about a timeframe? Hm? Give me something, so I can know when to expect to happily treat my girlfriend like my girlfriend,” he wondered.

“Rafe, you are hurting me-.”

“…and you’re hurting me!”

His breathing was deep, heavy, and his coked out eyes looked between yours. You watched the way his lips trembled when he pressed them together, and he took a deep breath, finally letting you go. You held your wrists to you, keeping your eyes on him as he reached up, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually choked out. “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to say it was okay, but it wasn’t. You swallowed, rubbing your wrists and glancing around. The party was two houses over, and you and Rafe were just…arguing in the street. You shuddered at the cool ocean breeze, and when Rafe dropped his arms, his somber eyes were focused on you.

“I’m sorry,” he softly repeated, reaching for you now. “Let me…let me take you home.”

You bit your lip.

“I really wanted to walk-.”

“I’m not-!”

He cut himself off, hands balling into fists as he swung them at his side. He roughly exhaled, calming himself down.

“I’m not letting you walk from here,” he told you, tilting his head. “Y/N, please. Let me take you home.”

The truth was you really didn’t want to walk anywhere. You’d just been angry, and it seemed silly to cut off your nose just to spite your face as your mom would say.

“You’re…high,” you finally said.

“I’ll drive slow,” he said like it was the most obvious solution in the world, throwing his hands up.

You knew that you shouldn’t get in his truck. You knew that you needed to have another serious talk about his drug habits, especially if said habits were going to result in nights like this. You knew that your conversation resolved nothing but really just highlighted more problems instead. You knew all of this, but you were mentally exhausted, and your face was starting to hurt again, and now your wrists too.

You just wanted to get home, take something, and get to sleep…so you grabbed Rafe’s outstretched hand and let him lead you to his truck.

“You okay?”

You could feel Pope’s eyes on you for the past three minutes while you fixed yourself something to eat, so his question didn’t exactly come as a surprise. You quickly washed your knife, drying it and putting it away.

“Never better. Why?”

You looked at him, and he was staring at you strangely. Specifically, your face, and for a split second, you worried that you weren’t wearing enough concealer, but then he shook his head.

“You just seem…more quiet than usual,” he pointed out.

You avoided his eye, reaching for your sandwich with a shrug.

“Just tired, Pope.”

You brushed by him, and you thought to yourself that it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were tired, among other things, and you just happened to keep those other things to yourself. When you opened your door, you almost dropped your plate in shock, a small shriek leaving you before you swallowed it down. You heard Pope calling your name, and you were quick to slip inside and close your door.

Rafe was sitting on your bed without a care in the world.

“Hey, you okay?” Pope asked through the door.

“Yeah,” you told him. “I just hit my foot.”

He grumbled something that you couldn’t make out, and you set your plate down before hurrying towards your window.

“Don’t worry, I parked down the street,” Rafe said as you peeked outside, shutting the window.

“What are you doing here?” you wondered, facing him.

After that night you’d had sex in your room, you didn’t make it a habit of having him over. As great as it had been, you didn’t exactly want a repeat. It was too risky. Rafe was standing, now, moving towards you, and instead of answering your question, he just kissed you. You slowly kissed him back, still wondering why he was here.

“I wanted to check on you,” he finally said when he pulled away.

“Oh,” you said, unconsciously touching your wrist.

The movement caught Rafe’s eye, and he gently took one, heaving a sigh as he brushed his finger over it. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was clearly struggling to voice whatever was on his mind. When he brought your arm up, he gently kissed the inside of your wrist, and you couldn’t fight your small smile.

“I don’t like getting like that.”

Your face fell, eyes softening as his gaze met yours.

“I don’t,” he sighed, pulling away and sitting back down. “…but when I feel like you don’t care about this relationship as much as I do…it hurts.”

Your heart sank, and your gaze found the floor interesting all of a sudden as you shifted on your feet.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” you softly replied.

“I just feel like it doesn’t drive you crazy that we have to hide. That I can’t even hold your hand in public or take you to that ice cream shop you like or happily tell some asshole that you’re mine-.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

You were staring at each other, now, and you glanced away.

“How would you feel if some girl was always trying to hit on me? Or making eyes at me? You’d hate it.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Rafe that he was Rafe Cameron, and so girls were always making eyes at him. It couldn’t be helped, especially since they thought he was single, but you didn’t make that his problem.

“I just feel like the only one who cares.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argued, moving towards him. “You don’t think it would be easier on me too if everyone knew?”

He gave you a look.

“Yeah, it would be hard at first dealing with Pope, but eventually…I think he would get over it. It’s that part that I dread, Rafe,” you told him. “The part where Pope looks at me like I completely betrayed him and then he doesn’t look at me at all for…months.”

“You’d have me,” Rafe murmured in response, and you swallowed a sigh.

“I actually like my brother, Rafe. Of course, you don’t get it.”

You moved towards your desk, proceeding to remove your makeup.

“I don’t want him to hate me,” you whispered.

You heard Rafe move after a while, coming closer, and your eyes met his in the mirror as he knelt behind you. He took your makeup wipe from you, and you let him, watching as he finished removing it for you. Both of you reacted to the nasty bruise that spread from your face to your cheek, you with a quiet sigh and Rafe with a troubled glint in his gaze.

When you turned to look at him, he swallowed, reaching out and letting his fingers just hover over the darker patch of skin. You closed your eyes when he leaned in to gently kiss your cheek, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and you nodded.

“I know,” you told him with a small smile. “It was an accident. You didn’t know it was me.”

You watched him stand before sitting on your desk.

“I shouldn’t have been fighting, anyway.”

“No,” you lightly said, shaking your head. “You shouldn’t have.”

Rafe gave a light chuckle at that, and when his eyes met yours, the corner of his mouth pulled up into a small crooked smile.

“I see the way they look at you…and I just lose it,” he confessed. “One minute you’re there and the next it’s like you aren’t with me anymore and some chump is taking my place.”

You reached for his hand, frowning.

“I know you won’t leave me…but I can’t help but let my mind run wild.”

Rafe rubbed his forehead, exhaling.

“I’ll try to work on that…I promise,” he assured you.

You looked down, never realizing how insecure Rafe was. It made your heart hurt because he had no reason to be, and you didn’t know how to make him see that you weren’t going anywhere. That there was no reason to worry every time some guy so much as looked at you. You only wanted him, and you didn’t think that could be any more obvious.

“Stay,” you whispered, and he lifted his gaze. “Please.”

You bit your lip.

“Everyone’s asleep, and I want you to stay.”

Rafe grabbed your sandwich, holding it to your lips, and he watched as you took a bite.

“I shouldn’t…”

You frowned at that, and you worried that Rafe was still a little upset. You stood, standing between his legs, and your gaze was pleading as it held his. You slowly leaned in, pressing your lips to his, and Rafe, eager as always, kissed you back. You fully leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and when you pulled back, Rafe reached up to brush his thumb down your lips.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me,” you quietly offered. “How much you don’t have to worry about me leaving you.”

Rafe held your gaze for a while, and eventually, he stood. You walked backwards, taking him with you, and you smiled when he leaned in to kiss you again.

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic

[beeslibrarycorner]

Smut concept

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Period sex

Ollie and Period sex

Oliver tracks your cycle so that he knows when everything starts from PMS to the start of your period.

Depending if you’re in pain or not dictates what the sex would be like. If the cramps are painful then it’s just fingers and oral. He talks you through it, keeps reminding you that you need to breath.

If the pain isn’t there then there more than just fingers and oral. It’s slow, he doesn’t want to hurt you and it’s about your pleasure. You’re usually on your back so if there is pain there isn’t any pressure on any muscles.

When it’s still heavy but nearing the end of your period he will sometimes put a pillow under your tummy and have you lay your head on Felix’s thigh. The elevation of the position has Ollie striking your g spot every time.

Felix will always help you through the pain emotional and physical during your period. But he does take a step back because he knows that Oliver can handle the situation better than him.

He’s doesn’t like seeing you in pain from cramps, especially if Oliver is helping you because the cramps are bad. He likes holding your hand and praising you and telling you that you’re amazing.

The sex doesn’t stop when the cramps lessen and it’s just blood and discharge. He keeps going until your period finishes and throughout the whole thing he tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is.

Oliver and Felix reminds you when your brain spews negativity at you that you are so special. That they are so privileged to be able to see you in this specific way.

Oliver likes your period blood on his thighs, the messier the better. Hey enjoy seeing it all over him, it’s like you’ve marked him with something that only you have from your body.

The aftercare is perfect. They clean you up, insist that you drink water and eat. They hold you and tell you how proud they are of you. They hold you close and reassure any anxieties that you have.

When they hold you when everything is dark and quiet at night and you asleep in their arms all they can think of is how lucky that are to have you.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn

[megamindsecretlair]

Can you do more smit with vampire Tyrone. Like how did they meet, how did the reader find out Tyrone was a vampire? How did they fall in love?

A Seduction at Midnight Prequel

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. No smut. Cursing, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Mentions of stalking and manipulation. Mean-ish reader.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. And when he tells you he's a vampire, did you really believe him?

Word Count: 4,143k

This has now been turned into a series! Read here: Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: Since I don't know how to lay my ass down, enjoy a little vamp Tyrone prequel! How did they meet? The previous fic, they weren't actually in love. Reader is just down bad. I mean, wouldn't you be? Thank you so much for the ask, this was fun! No smut, because the party was the first time they had sex, sorry! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

Tyrone

Tyrone knew better. He knew better than to go out among the mortals. The stench of them was unbearable. Every year, humans found more and more ways to debase themselves. They don’t wash, they don’t eat properly, and they drown themselves in buckets of artificial smells. It buried the scent of their blood and he hated it all.

However, his business partner encouraged him to come to the club tonight. Slick Charles was a fast talking, smooth operator that could sell water to a fish. He was ruthless in matters of business. Fed up with hearing his begging, Tyrone decided to come out for one night only.

He much preferred the solitude of his property. Even the parties were starting to dull him. Seen one orgy, you’d seen them all. 

Tyrone reclined on the couch in the VIP section, a booth reserved only for him. It faced the dancefloor below, the bar area, the private tables, and the front door. He watched over everything. Watched how the mortals filled their short lives with bigger and louder and messier.

“We doin’ real well, ‘round here Tyrone. Real well. If we weren’t so exclusive, we could snatch up licensing rights quicker than a ho on the wrong corner,” Slick Charles said. Tyrone half listened.

He sat with legs crossed, his hands resting on his knees. The sunglasses he wore did little to dim his vision but it kept the curious ones from making comments about his eyes. 

And then he saw you. You were down by the bar, leaning over it in a sinful red dress that left little to the imagination and yet, still covered much of your body. Only the middle was cut out, thin straps crossing over your tummy. You kicked up one leg, showing red bottom “fuck me” heels. Your body dimensions were out of this world. 

Tyrone kept watch while you flirted with the bartender to score free drinks. Slick Charles was still droning on, but Tyrone made a mental note to address the bartender issue. You carried the trio of drinks to a private table with two other women dressed similar to you. Their dresses were much shorter, scantily clad, with pieces of material over their bodies. Barely enough to call it a dress. 

Tyrone took a deep breath, sifting through scents until he was sure he smelled you. Something natural and earthy, like fresh rain. The more he took in your scent, the more his mouth salivated. 

Your scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Your blood sang to him. Called to him. Tyrone lowered his glasses, looking at you over the top of them. You were intoxicating. How were you still unmarked? How had no one claimed you yet? 

“See, what I was thinking was at least one other club. Like on the east coast maybe. I did such a good job here, I know I can bring that Slick Charles flavor over there, know what I mean?” 

“Slick,” Tyrone said.

“Yeah?” 

“We’re not franchising. Who is that?” Tyrone kept his eyes on you, too afraid that if he looked away, you’d disappear and take that tempting aroma with you. You were a temptress. Sent here to provoke him.

“Duncan, party of three,” Slick responded. “I didn’t get all of their names.”

A kernel of anger coursed through him. How dare you smell so good? He licked his lips. He had to have a taste of your blood. Hunger pains made him place one hand over his stomach. He hadn’t reacted this strongly in centuries. He could hardly recollect what happened then. 

Tyrone replaced his shades and watched as you mingled with your friends, drinking and clinking your glasses. He longed to hear what you sounded like, what you tasted like.

You

You were so fuckin’ sick of your bitchy friend. You smiled and clinked glasses with them and encouraged London to take another shot. You looked to your other friend, Amanda, and you shared a look. 

London was back on her “I hate Carlos” bender, which meant going out nearly every night in too tight dresses and heels, cruising for men she wasn’t going to take home. As soon as her Instagram blew up with pictures of her having fun, dressed up sexy, and hanging onto random men, Carlos would call. 

He’d beg and cry and sniffle until she took him back and it was another few months before they were breaking up again. You and Amanda had long ago stopped trying to get in the middle of that bullshit. You were sick of the cycle. 

You were not looking for a man and you hated how pushy these dudes were. They sent over drinks, tried to sidle up to the table, grabbed your waist to try and pull you onto the dancefloor. 

You wanted to stick your stiletto in their eyes. You wanted to scratch or maim them. Teach them a lesson about putting hands on women they don’t know. Who fuckin’ raised these animals? 

Maybe you were just too old for the club scene. You were approaching your 30s and you were fucking over it. All of these men were raised in the barn. Worse, they were raised under the barn. They stunk, their breaths were horrible, and didn’t have two nickels to rub together but wanted to buy you a drink. Please.

So, no, you didn’t want the hustle and bustle of meeting someone, finding out they weren’t shit, and getting back into the rat race. 

You rolled your eyes as London took another fuckin’ selfie with her drink. You had been here an hour and you wanted to dip. You longed for a bath, some smell good, and the next trashy program you could binge watch. You locked eyes with Amanda again. She rolled her neck and gave you a pointed look.

Yes, you were seeing this mess. And yes you were over it. Amanda was the one who came up with the idea of the table. She thought that by supplying London with alcohol and posting all night, you could avoid the drunken desperation of finding any guy that would take a picture with her. You did not have the strength to fight off another fuck boy. 

You watched over your friend like a boring mom-friend, wasting your good dress, until she finally got a like from Carlos. “See! Knew that fucker was watching my stories!” 

“Why don’t we call it a night? This place is dead,” you said. The place actually looked fun. It had good, grown and sexy vibes. There was ambient lighting all around, shadless bulbs hanging down from the ceiling. The music was grown too. Music you could either dance or fuck to.

The floor itself was spacious with enough room for people to actually breathe. The club limited how many people came in at once. It was a huge place, two levels. The top floor was for the real VIPs. Celebrities, CEOs, billionaires, royalty, or people with that much money to throw around.

Maybe you’d have to come back here with Amanda, without London. “Yeah, it’s no fun when there’s no guy to make him jealous. All these mu’fuckas ugly anyway.”

Sweet-fucking-music to your ears. You gathered your things and slipped out of the booth. You linked arms with Amanda as you waited for London to scoot her tiny ass out of the booth.

“Think they’ll notice if I wear this back here?” You asked.

“Girl no, didn’t nobody fuckin’ see it,” Amanda said.

You laughed with her. “You right, you right.” 

Amanda placed her hands on London’s shoulders to steady their drunk friend. Maybe their plan worked a little too well. “Why he gotta act like that?” 

You turned your head and rolled your eyes. Crying over a man? You could fuckin’ never. “Because men are pigs,” you said. What else was new? The sky was blue, fire was hot, and men weren’t shit.

You steered London out of the club. Sharp wind smacked you in the face as you left the warm interior. There was a line outside of hopeful people ready to get inside. 

Outside, you pulled your phone out of your clutch so that you could call up a ride for all three of you. “She can crash at my place tonight,” Amanda said. London went to sit on the curb, holding her head in hand as she scrolled through her pictures. 

“Are you sure?” You asked.

Amanda sighed and looked at London. “Might as well. I think you had her last time,” she said.

You agreed and moved to the side, out from under the streetlight to better see your phone. You typed as you moved. Something heavy slammed into your shoulder and you went careening to the side about to trip over your heels.

Strong hands encircled you and you steadied yourself. 

“Yo, what the fuck?!” You shrieked.

“Damn, bitch you don’t see me walking?” Some pimp-lookin’ wannabe looked you up and down. He wore a leather jacket over a black turtleneck and heeled boots. He looked like a damn clown. 

“The fuck did you just call me?” 

“Apologize to the lady!” A deep, smooth voice moved over you like chocolate. You looked into the face of the one who held you.

Damn. He was gorgeous. Rich, ebony skin. Faint facial hair. Neat cornrows. The sunglasses hid his eyes from you. But those lips. You stared at his lips as they moved. 

“...alright?” 

“Huh?” You asked. 

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked.

You told him your name. He let you go now that you weren’t in danger of falling on your ass. He held out his hand. You took it. His hand was so warm, near scorching. He brought your hand to his lips.

“I’m Tyrone,” he said.

You smiled at him. It had to be illegal to look that damn good. He wore an all black suit, nothing fancy, no jacket. There was a silver chain running from his vest to his pants pocket.

You giggled as his soft lips brushed your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Maybe…you needed to rethink your whole stance on men. He smiled without showing his teeth, still holding your hand. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? That was pretty rude of that man,” Tyrone said.

You shrugged. “Par for the course. Most men are rude,” you said.

“Well, then, I hope to be the exception.” 

***

Tyrone

Tyrone knew better. But he could not get you out of his mind. The night he met you was like a shock to his system. Rebooting the long frozen heart in his chest. You really had no clue how delectable you smelled. He wondered once again how you flitted through life with no one claiming you.

True, vampires were decreed to keep their activities hidden. Only allowed to keep three donors in rotation and even then, not keeping them for long. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to drink you like ambrosia through a straw.

Unbeknownst to you, Tyrone spent his nights learning your routine. A few keystrokes on the computer and he learned where you worked. Keystrokes later, he found your address. Every night since that meeting, he perched in the shadows of your place, looking for any glimpses of you. 

He knew when you came home that you locked your car and swiftly headed inside. Not bothering to search your surroundings. Careless. You did at least lock your doors. Your neighborhood was…cute. Seemed beneath someone as gorgeous and smart as you were. 

You were undervalued at the company you worked for. Yet, you seemed content with that. Why? 

Each new thing he uncovered about you only served to pique his interest more. He had pieces of you but the whole picture wasn’t clear. And it wasn’t enough. 

Tyrone watched you for weeks. You were none the wiser. Each night, he thought he’d finally give in and devour you. Your scent was its own temptation. Luring him half across the city. Begging for him to take you and claim you as his. 

But then you’d do something cute like tilt your head. Or wear another sexy dress that looked painted on your ass. His dick stirred on more than one occasion as he watched you. He yearned to bury himself in you. Wondered if your pussy tasted as good as you smelled. 

He didn’t know what the hell you were doing with your two friends. They seemed beneath you as well. He caught the way you’d look at them sometimes. Like you wanted to set fire to their hair with just your eyes. Why remain friends with them? 

In his nightly watches, he never caught a man sniffing around. None? How were you not beating them back with a stick? How did they not harass you day and night, wanting to be in your orbit? 

You ended up coming back to the club and he arranged another accidental bump into you, charming you into giving up your number. He already had it. But you didn’t need to know that. He ended up talking to you every second of the day and night. 

He had to explain that his job gave him an opposite schedule, sleeping all day and up all night. You seemed to buy it. 

He took you out on a few trips. Showing you LA at night. The LA Zoo hosted a special event where they set up lights to look like animals. You glowed in the neon light and Tyrone hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. 

But he held himself back. Only touched your hand or the small of your back to lead you through the crowd. He wanted you to crave his touch. He wanted you to seek out his comfort. So he held off on touching as much as possible.

You were probably used to men pawing at you. He endeavored to be the exception and that was what he was going to do. He took you to restaurants and museums. You marveled at how he was able to get you in after dark. He walked you through the galleries, regaling you with anecdotes about painters and artists. Some he knew in a previous life, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Eventually, you got curious about the shades. Strangely, he didn’t want to lie to you. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Tyrone said. 

“Try me,” you said. 

You had been going out for a few months and talking all the time. He knew the shades would be an issue at one point. Especially since it was clear he wasn’t blind. Tonight, he took you on a private Griffith Observatory trip. On the deck, he stood beside you and looked out over LA. 

“Do you believe in monsters?” 

“Like the boogeyman?” You sang.

“Naw, like vampires and werewolves,” he said. 

You giggled and shook your head. “Uh, no,” you said. 

“Why not?” He asked.

“Are you going to tell me about your glasses or not?” You asked.

Tyrone smirked. “C’mon, indulge me,” he said.

You shrugged and looked out over the cityscape. Why didn’t you?

You

Why would you have a reason to believe in monsters? Sure, you had the odd fantasy about them. The occasional smutty book about being at the mercy of one. But they were all cheap knock offs and underwhelming.

Pale, frigid beings that masqueraded as high school kids. Yuck. The fuck would a vampire want with jail bait? Even if they looked young, they weren’t young. They ought to know better. 

“I guess Hollywood made them too clean and sanitized. They’re actors with fake teeth. They don’t actually exist. What keeps them alive? Why blood? Where does it go?” You asked. 

“What if I told you they were real?” He asked.

You sucked your teeth. “I knew you were too pretty and perfect. There had to be something wrong with you,” you said.

You giggled, meaning it as a joke. But maybe there was some truth to it. Tyrone always held himself away from you. As if he were afraid that you’d break if he touched you too long. At first it was hot, but dammit. You were a modern woman with needs. Each successful date was like another nail of desire hammered into you. 

You lay awake at night, feverish. No one else had been able to rev you up like that. But any time you tried to get close, Tyrone found some excuse to keep his distance. Even when he dropped you off at home, he’d kiss your hand and ask when he could see you again. 

Tyrone smirked and rubbed his jaw. “What if I were serious? What if I told you that monsters are real and they’re out to steal your blood?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, what does that have to do with your shades?” 

Tyrone lifted his hands to his shades and tugged them off. He kept his red eyes trained on you. Wait..red? 

You backed up a step. He had deep, red rimmed eyes where people would normally have brown or blue. “What the –” 

“Don’t freak out,” he said. 

“Where’d you get contacts like that?” You asked. It looked so real. Like movie-grade real. 

Tyrone chuckled, not showing his teeth. “Naw,” he said. He licked his lips. He stalked closer. He bared his teeth, his canines longer than normal. Pointed and sharp. Sharp enough to pierce skin.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “You can’t really be serious, right?” 

Tyrone shrugged. He put his shades back on his face. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see. If you’ll still have me,” he said. He held out his hand and you looked at it.

Was this guy crazy? You weighed who he had been with what you were discovering tonight. Surely, he was just a vamp lover, like a furry. Right? You took his hand. Your curiosity would get you in trouble, but you weren’t done trying to discover what made Tyrone tick. You might regret it.

***

You

Tyrone took your questions with resounding patience. He answered them all. Yes, he drinks blood. Yes, he can run fast. No, he could not shapeshift into a bat. No, he couldn’t turn invisible. Garlic was just another abhorrent smell. Silver didn’t bother him. 

“C’mon, you really believe you’re a vampire?” You asked. 

Tyrone took off his glasses, safe to do so since you were walking along the outside of the Getty museum. The view was breathtaking. Nothing glowed like LA at night. The twinkle of the yellow and white lights never failed to make you feel alive. One among many but never truly alone. 

“Have we ever met in the daytime?” Tyrone asked. 

“Well, no but…c’mon,” you said. You couldn’t believe it. “Fangs” and red contacts did not equal a vampire. You didn’t know why you were reluctant to believe it. He seemed too alive to be dead. He breathed, he sighed, he ate food! 

Tyrone grinned, showing that hint of fang. The back of your thighs tingled. Desire pooling low in your belly. Everything about him turned you on. Still, he denied you. Only touched you when it was necessary.

When you were fed up with a dude, that was it. You were out of there. But Tyrone was intriguing. Interesting. He kept you guessing. Entertained. You didn’t know what he was going to say or do next. And you wanted to find out.

“Want me to show you?” He asked.

“How?” You asked.

One minute, you were standing outside the Getty. The next moment, you were at the bottom of the hill. You shrieked, holding onto Tyrone’s long sleeved shirt for dear life. You stared up into his flaming red eyes. His smile was predatory. 

In the next blink, you were back up the mountain outside the museum. He let you go and you moved away from him, backing into the railing so he couldn’t sneak up behind you. 

“You’re…”

He stood away from you, poised as if he were posing for a magazine. “A vampire. Like I’ve been telling you,” he said. That predatory grin was back. He stalked closer. You held your hand up. 

Your lip quivered. The mad dash up and down the mountain stole your breath and made you shiver. This was insane. Vampires? Like actual vampires? Blood-sucking vampires?

“So what? You were just playing with your food? Am I gonna end up on a T-shirt?” 

Tyrone

Tyrone shook his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone that far. You stood away from him. The flirty tone you always used with him was gone. Your beautiful eyes were wide, your breathing had increased.

Fuck. If he thought you smelled delicious before, your scent mixed with fear and it drove him wild. He took a step forward before he knew what he was doing. 

“No,” he said. He shook his head. He was under control. He could handle himself. “I’m not going to kill you. Would I have taken you on all of these dates if I was? I haven’t even touched you,” he said.

“Why is that?” You asked.

“I wanted you to know me before you found out. Find the man under the monster,” he said. 

You narrowed your eyes. Okay, he laid it on a little thick. But these dates only proved how obsessed he was with you. If no one else had claimed you, he was going to. He was going to have you.

Shit. Tyrone clenched his fists and stepped back from you. The tradition. How could he forget? He started the damn thing as a protective measure against discovery. He didn’t want to share you with the others. 

He also couldn’t leave you alone. Not until he finally got to taste you. Hold you. Move inside you. Even then, he wasn’t sure that’d be enough. 

“So, what? You were just going to date me until you asked for a drink from my wrist?” You weren’t as tense as before. You relaxed inch by inch. 

Tyrone approached you. He held up his hands as if to calm down a skittish deer. When he was close to you without crowding into you, you held up a hand.

“I just wanted to know you. You’re interesting,” he said.

“I’m interesting to a fuckin’ vampire?” You asked.

Tyrone nodded. He looked over you, over the olive green jumpsuit you wore. Your heels were going to be the true death of him. If he was lucky enough to take you to bed, you were keeping those on.

“The choice is always yours,” he said. Not. If he couldn’t have you one way, he’d sure as fuck find another way. “I can walk away right now. Leave you alone.” 

“No,” you said quickly.

A surge of triumph coursed through Tyrone. He felt like a fisherman with a tricky fish on the line. 

“I-I want to know more.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You bit your lip in that adorable way that made his dick twitch. You nodded and Tyrone answered with his own nod. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

True to his word, he did. He told you all about vampires and how to protect yourself over the next few dates. Though not all the ways. You would never get rid of him. Not if he could help it. He wanted to smell the sweetness coursing through your veins for the end of his days.

You were curious about him drinking your blood, even going as far to offer your wrist once. Tyrone declined and declined, giving you just enough hint to make you stomp your foot and beg for answers. 

He told you about the parties and why they were needed. He told you about the tradition. Each new donor was to be stripped and fucked and drunk from in front of the others. Mutually assured destruction. You could go to the cops, but you’d also have a room full of witnesses of you dallying with the devils. 

He expected you to balk then. To shut him up and resign yourself to keeping your virtue. To demand that he leave you alone and never speak to you again. Who would agree to such a thing? 

You had grinned. Perhaps you had a devil in you already. “Take me to one of the parties then,” you said.

You offered yourself up like a lamb to slaughter. How the hell did he get so damn lucky? 

“There’s no going back if I do,” he said. He ran his fingertips up and down your arm. 

“I want you to show me everything,” you said with a wide grin. 

Tyrone gave you a grin of his own, fangs and all. He pictured your descent into hell and relished the way he would eat you whole.

&&&

This has now been turned into a series! Read here: Midnight Sin Masterlist

Need more Tyrone in your life? The Secret Tyrone Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Tyrone x Black!reader #Tyrone x Black reader #Tyrone x Fem!reader #Tyrone x Fem reader #Tyrone x plus size reader #Vamp!Tyrone #Vampire!Tyrone #Vampire Tyrone #AU Tyrone #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction #Midnight Sin Series

[kingschclar]

training azul ashengrotto to ask for what he wanted !! he’s so sensitive to touch, and every reaction he gives you just fuels you more.

NSFW MDNI // contains — sub!azul, he is aged up, blowjob/rimjob, male penetration, dacryphilia, overstimulation, cockwarming, belly bulging <3, reader can be afab or amab, azul has octopus blood, praise kink, aftercare

love note — a certain friend of mine.. encouraged me, so now this is a fic

imagine sucking him off/eating him out and feeling his thighs clamp around your head as he squirms around, whimpering about how good it felt. overstimulate him and watch his plush thighs tense and flinch so prettily.

imagine leaving hickies all over them to tease him, making him hiccup as he sobs at the pleasure, making him feel so good, so loved as you fuck him slowly, feeling those thighs wrap around your waist to pull you closer. actually, mark his entire body, and tell him how goddamn beautiful he is after every kiss and bite.

of course, you’ll always give him more, but only if he used that pretty mouth to ask for it.

you watched as azul’s tear filled eyes met yours, his lips red and bitten. his pupils were dilated and you could almost see hearts in them. he wrapped his shaking arms around you, and you let him pull you down for a messy kiss, his way of pleading you to just move already. you do nothing, choosing to pull back again to run your hands down his thighs, making him whine softly.

“i’ve told you, azul,” you said softly, sighing at him. “you have to tell me what you want so i can give it to you.” you could see the gears in azul’s head turning as he debated whether to give in or not. you don’t think you’re asking that much of him at all, but he’s so flustered by the request that he’s barely spoken the entire time.

your hands glide along his skin, teasing around the area you realized bulged from your dick before pressing down on it. azul cried out in surprise, and you swore you heard a soft “please”.

“please what?” you asked, a smirk creeping onto your face. you saw azul’s bottom lip quiver before he gave in.

“please! fuck me! i can’t take this anymore!” he almost screamed out as he tossed his head back, and almost immediately you start moving. he jerked and squirmed around, lewd gasps and moans pouring out of his mouth. his eyes rolled back, and you could tell that the poor boy was already close. with another few thrusts, azul came, whimpering loudly as he did so. his noises only got louder when he realized that you were still moving, chasing your orgasm as you panted harshly.

his spent body fell limp as he gave in to you completely, letting you thrust into him roughly and mindlessly. “fuck me” and “feels s’good” fell from his lips as he repeated it like a mantra, eyes rolling back as he bit on his lip harshly, enough to draw blood. if you paid enough attention, you’d realize how good he looked with a trickle of blue blood glistening on his pink lips.

“m’ close,” you muttered, and azul pulled you in for another kiss. it was even messier than the first one, and you think he just wanted to hug you close at this point. you let him thrash beneath you as you stared into his dilated pupils. his moans increased in volume and his breathing picked up again. he's about to cum.

you continued thrusting into him at the same pace, and for the second time, azul came with a weak cry, every muscle in his body tensing up before he fell back onto the bed, sniffing back his tears.

"azul, love," you called for him gently, and the man looked at you with his puffy eyes. you leaned down, slowly licking and kissing along the trail of dried tears on his cheeks. he whined a little, but let you. "you did so, so well, okay? you were so good." perhaps he was already too fucked out to think, but he simply nodded, leaning in to you for support and comfort.

you grabbed the water bottle that you prepared before and handed it to your lover. as he downed the water quicker than you'd expected, you wiped him down, all while singing praises and words of affirmation to him.

"thank you," he whispered, voice raspy and scratchy. of course, there was more he wanted to say, but he was sure you knew what it was — that he was glad you were the one he was sharing this moment with.

#; — sealed w a kiss. ares #sub azul #sub azul ashengrotto #azul #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto smut #azul twst #azul twisted wonderland #twst smut #sub twst #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #sub twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland smut #dom reader

[feelbokkie]

Ephemeral Love | Chapter 9

pairing: Seungmin x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, university au, right person wrong time, minor character death

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, minor violence (behind closed doors, literally), Jisung is back on his bullshit, mention of blood

summary: Does love last forever, or is it fleeting? For university juniors Kim Seungmin and Seo Y/n, it's love at first sight but sometimes you meet your soulmate at the wrong time.

word count: 1,155 (unedited)

screenshot count: 12

previous | masterlist | next

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You stare at the blank word document, watching the cursor blink impatiently as it waits for you to write something. Anything. With a brain like yours, you were never short on words when it came to papers. The real issue is making it not sound like a wikipedia article. You've spent the past couple of weeks hanging out around Seungmin and his apartment. You did homework together and spent a lot of time talking but you kept putting off your paper. How could you say what hasn't already been said. It's giving you a headache. Your headache dulled slightly when Seungmin started texting you earlier.

Bam!

"What the hell...?" You send Seungmin a quick text as you get up from your desk and poke your head in the hallway of your apartment to figure out what that noise was.

The last time you heard a loud noise like that, Felix somehow managed knock down the entire bookshelf on top of himself and you were the only one home to help get it off of him. Magically, he only had a few cuts and bruises.

"Han, stop throwing shit at me!" Felix's voice booms through the apartment.

The yelling is coming from Felix and Jisung's room. Their door is wide open, letting you see straight into the bedroom, which is messier than usual. You abandon the safety of your room and walk into theirs.

"Why? Don't you trust me to not hit you in the face? Do you think I would stab you in the back?" Jisung shouts back. He's standing on his side of the room, clutching a rather large book. You recognize the book, it's the one you got him last Christmas about famous composers throughout history. You thought that reading it would get him out of the slump while he was composing his own music. You were right.

"Look, I said I'm sorry. But in all honesty, it wasn't fair for you to put me in the middle like that." Felix says softly from his side of the room. He's clutching a pillow, probably to protect him all the things Jisung has thrown at him. You can see the various stuffed animals, half empty water bottles, and notebooks littering Felix's side of the room.

"Fair? Bro, you went behind my back and told Y/n something I told you in confidence. How is that fair?" Jisung shouts before hurling the book straight at Felix's head. Luckily, Felix ducks narrowly dodging the book.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask panicked. You've never seen Jisung so mad.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Jisung mutters before walking over to you, gently shoving you out of the room and slamming the door in your face.

You stare at the door trying to process what just happened. You can hear muffled yelling on the other end, Felix's voice significantly louder than Jisung's. You're unsure what to do. The three of you are the only one's home. Chan left a few hours ago to go to play rehearsal and Changbin has been at work for most of the day. You know better than to get in between them right now. You've gotten hurt getting in the middle of their play fighting before, you don't even want to think about what would happen if you tried that while they're actually fighting.

You anxiously shift the weight from one foot to the other as you stand behind the door with your hand on the door knob unsure if you should at least try to intervene. You freeze when you hear a pained scream come from the room.

You swallow the lump in your throat and open the door. You find Jisung flat on his back on the floor, clutching his face, and Felix standing over him, all the color drained from his face and eyes transfixed with horror, unable to look away no matter how much he wants to.

"What the fuck happened?" You ask, kneeling down next to Jisung. Now that you're closer to him, you can see blood dripping down the side of his face and spilling through between his fingers.

"I-it was an accident. He, he started shoving me and getting in my face and I told him to fucking stop but he wouldn't-- He fucking sucker punched me and I swung back without thinking. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, but he was pissing me off." Felix says quickly. You're not even sure how you understood him with how fast he was speaking, running his words together.

"Ji, let me see your face," You say calmly. You grab one of the shirts that's laying on the ground, ready to use it to help stop the bleeding.

"I'm fine," He chokes out as he sits up, more blood dripping down his face.

"Bullshit, you're bleeding profusely all over yourself and the carpet. Pretty sure you broke your nose. Let me check," You say, gently trying to get him to move his hands.

"Why do you even care?" He chokes out. He almost definitely has blood in mouth.

"Because you're my best friend even though you're being an asshole to me."

"Best friend, right..." He says softly.

"Ji--"

"Just leave me alone," He get up and leaves the room. You hear a door slam on the other side of the apartment.

You shut your eyes and take a deep breathe before running off to your bathroom and grab the hydrogen peroxide and a washcloth. You go back to the room and quickly clean up the bloodstains.

"How are you doing, Lix?" You ask Felix as you clean.

"He knocked the wind out of me and my hand hurts but I'm okay." He explains.

"What happened? Why were you two fighting?"

"I told him that you knew that he likes you and then it escalated very quickly."

"He's acting like a fucking child," You mutter under your breath.

"You can't exactly blame him. How would you feel if Seungmin didn't like you back?"

"I wouldn't be throwing a temper tantrum about it, that's for sure. He's 21 years old but he's acting like a toddler who didn't get his way. He can't get mad at me for not liking him back."

You finish cleaning up the blood on the floor just as Jisung walks back into the room. His nose is noticeably swollen and red, already forming a bruise. He has a cut on the bridge of his nose. He refuses look at you or Felix as he lays on his bed.

"Get out, both of you." He says loudly.

"This is Lix's room too. You can't just kick him out." You argue.

"Y/n, it's fine. Let's just let him cool off," Felix says softly as he ushers you out of the room. Closing the door behind him. You take another deep breath before pushing Felix into your room and leaving him to get him an ice pack.

—

Buy me a coffee?

#feelbokkie writes #ephemeral love smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #seungmin smau #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin

[hungriestheidi]

(n bc im greedy) Survival/Wilderness Fic + everybody knows for sebchal 😁

(so, this will end up being a longer actual fic but I didn't want to just not reply so this is what you get for putting insane ideas in my head)

Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I'll write you a short story

“Do you need help?”

Felipe opens with that question every morning since the fevers began, a fortnight ago. 

“No, no, go on,” Sebastian replies, his hands sweating the soft linen of his sheets. Felipe takes one last look at him before closing the door, heavy hinges whining with desperation, and he’s alone again.

It’s the dead of winter, and has been for over fifteen long months, but he sweats and sweats, endless nights in a row, accustomed to the growling of a fire in the pits of his chest. It rumbles like a hunger for something he cannot name, like the depravity of lust or the rapture of holy rage or a bit of either, perhaps both.

He’s buried in the depths of winter and burning alive. He doesn’t feel sick, he’s as good as he’s been for the better part of the decade. It’s the dreams that make him sweat until he’s ripping from the lungs to the skin, desperately crawling at walls until it stops being so unbearable. 

The dream had come to him first as a blurry landscape, nothing different than the dreams of spring that often comes with a lot of drinking and joking with friends about the taverns and the maidens they had met in their journeys during the warm months. Then they had people in them, then snow falling like a kiss on his heated skin, then a laugh, then a desperate scream, burning of a fire on his hands, calloused fingers, a leg that couldn’t hold his weight. Then, the eight night, he saw a man’s face, clear like the running of water when the snow melts. Sharp cheekbones, an angular nose, thick dark brows matching the hair above his forehead, facial hair that at first looked calculatedly placed, above and under the lip, a well kept young man, then it grew messier and messier. 

He’s been seeing that same face even when awake, observing the sharpness of the mountains around. 

He had known the dreams haunted his father, that the obscurity or clarity of them often gave him migraines. He was a man with an easy smile and a sense of humor, but since the snow had burned his eyes he had grown quiet, retreating deep into the crevices of his own mind until one of the boys found him, bent over a table, quill at hand. He had died in the quiet of the last spring night of the year that passed, spilled ink under his chin. 

When the burning of the bones had left ash only, the son he left behind knew well what to do. Tradition and religion carry each other closely in these sorts of places, where ruins are venerated like gods and children drink mulled wine with the ashes of their parents, magic in the blood that fills your guts, fight the vomit until the feeling passes and then sleep the long night. 

Sebastian slept for seven days before he had a dream. It was something sweet, an old lion perched over a mountain top, licking their paw. When their eyes met, the blue of the lion said it was his father’s parting message. ‘You are in my stead,’ he said, quietly purring in the immensity of the night sky, ‘and you must look after the sun that comes’.

Sebastian looks at the sky when he makes it out through the upper hatch, the outlook tower half buried in the snow. They have to dig today, the sun will melt the snow and they’ll be able to dig at least a foot. Fernando and his team will do the heavy lifting, but they inside will be working equally as well to insulate the rooms, check that the basement has no leaks, protect the dried meat, the grains, the rhum and the wine.

“Something moves!” Rubens yells from his post. Sebastian hurries over, looking over his shoulder. Something moves, indeed. 

“Is it an elk?” Sebastian asks. They haven’t seen an animal in over a month, any sort of meat is more than welcome for them. 

But Rubens shakes his head. “Not a chance, it has to be a man.” He leans in, squinting as he presses his face to the opticals in his hands. “And a wounded one it seems.”

He hands the opticals to Sebastian. It looks covered in drapes, something like torn pieces of clothing hanging over the snow, and there is something reflective in them, perhaps a vest or a glove? And yes, if it is a man, they carry themselves with a limp. 

“Felipe!” He yells over his shoulder. The short stocky man turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “Search and rescue, immediately.”

It is a wounded man after all. When he spots them, the man stands still. 

“Are you the wardens?” He asks when they are close enough, voice so thin it may as well be just a wind gust instead of words. “Of the southern passage?”

“Yes,” Sebastian responds. Felipe is behind him, Fernando only a few steps behind, two hunting dogs ready to bite. Sebastian is entirely sure they need not to fear a skinny man in a schmatte. 

The man laughs, a raucous laughter that echoes through the valley like a lion’s roar, that must rip his throat in half if the sound of his voice speaks of its state. Then he takes a step forward and his right leg gives out. He falls to the snow, rolling until he’s looking at the sky, laughing softly still. Sebastian runs towards him, in spite of Fernando’s warnings.

“Blessed the river,” he mutters when Sebastian holds him in his arms, pulling him half over his lap. “Blessed, blessed,” he repeats, voice soft and feeble, his gloved hand reaching for Sebastian’s arm. 

Sebastian rips away the mask the man carries and the cold of winter finally puts to sleep the fire inside his chest. His hand paralyzes over the man’s pale skin, eyes fluttering open and closed as he drifts between consciousness and sleep, before finally giving up. Sebastian rips away the fabric around his neck, his fingers rushing to the side before feeling the relief of the pumping of his blood under his fingertips.  

“Is it who you saw in your dreams?” Felipe asks, helping him carry the man towards the sledge they brought.

Sebastian nods as they place him gently on the harsh surface. Fernando digs into the clothes of the man, a looter despite Sebastian’s rejection of that practice. 

“What did your father say?” He asks, hand firmly tugging under the man’s flimsy overgarment.

“You must look after the sun that comes,” Sebastian responds, blood beating like a drum inside his ears. 

Fernando snatches something out of the chest of the man and holds it high. It takes a moment for his eyes to truly see it, as it reflects the light like a mirror. A golden pendant shaped like the sun.

“It is your destiny, then,” he says, tossing the pendant his way as Felipe helps him fast the unconscious man to the sledge.The freezing cold of winter unleashes its bite around Sebastian’s heart as he crouches to fetch the medal. The sun that comes, eh. Dreams don’t get any more vivid than this.

#“how is this everybody knows?” the prophetic nature of dreams duh #myfic #fic asks #lourdes tag #something something i went insane mayhaps! #sebchal

[goddessofroyalty]

Someone asked for more Blood for Blood verse porn on the last chapter. So take a sneak peak as I figure out what other scene/s I want to include in the chapter when I post on AO3.

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Aemond/Lucerys

Tags: omegaverse, mentioned-mpreg, uncle-nephew incest, background canon-typically violence

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

Luke has Arrax saddled as soon as he receives word that the shadow of Vhagar is over the city.  

Changing into his riding gear and taking to the skies to meet his husband and mate. Arrax flying above Aemond’s mount so Luke has a chance at seeing him past the she-dragon's size.  

Aemond’s hair is messier than Luke has ever seen it and his clothes are dirty, all evidence that he has been in a battle. But Luke just knows that it had been a victorious one – Aemond wouldn’t have returned until he claimed a victory.  

It doesn’t stop his guilt at sending Aemond alone to crush the attacks. But his grandfather had strictly forbidden him to go, it only after the party had been of off that he had admitted it was for fear that Aemond would kill him and claim it was the enemy. That the alpha would use their young child to take Driftmark for himself when the King died.  

Aemond looks up at him and tilts his head in a silent instruction to follow. Vhagar bowing as she turns to head towards the beaches.  

Luke directs Arrax to follow. Perhaps he is being foolish in it, but if he were to go missing all suspicions would be on his uncle.  

Aemond brings Vhagar down in the water as Luke lands Arrax on the beach. Luke sliding off and landing on the sand, resting a hand on Arrax’ side as he waits for the sound of Aemond’s footsteps hitting sand as well.  

“They’re all dead,” Aemond says with the kind of glee that Luke feels shouldn’t be applied to the deaths of others, pirates they may be. “My first kills an army who stood against us.”  

“We must inform Corlys of your victory.” The Lord of the Tides will be relieved to know the matter is settled and they do not need to send more men out to keep their routes open.  

“We will,” Aemond says, grabbing hold of Luke’s hips. The smell of fire and blood almost masking his scent. “But first.”  

The kiss he gives Luke is almost scary in its intensity. His grip tightening around Luke until they are all too quickly tumbling onto the sand. Aemond’s leg is sliding between Luke’s, his hardness pressing against Luke’s hip as his hands start working on unlacing Luke’s outer clothes.  

“I’m not in heat,” Luke manages to get out even as Aemond presses kisses along his throat. Because that seems to matter to his mate, the only times they lie together being when there is a chance of a child resulting. Luke’s attempts at offering out of it early in their marriage being embarrassingly fobbed off until he stopped even bothering.  

“I’ll get you wet enough,” Aemond promises, before sucking at Luke’s scent gland where he originally bit down to mark them as mates.  

They’re going to fuck on the beach with their dragons as their witness.  

Luke almost breaks out in a laugh at the realization. Daemond would be proud. Alicent would be horrified.  

“What about the sand?” Luke has no plans of being rubbed raw by it in the places his clothes normally protect.  

Aemond draws back, holding himself up on his arms and looking down at Luke like he doesn’t understand what he means.  

Before Luke has a chance to explain his alpha lets out a huff. Getting up off him and unclasping his cloak, lying it down on the beach and gesturing to it.  

“Is that adequate for you my Lord Strong or do you want to return to your chambers and your bed?” Aemond asks. The idea of even how they would get to said chambers in such a state a mortifying one. And that was before Luke dared to even think of how they would explain to his grandfather that, while, yes, the campaign Aemond had been sent on had been successful a full report would have to wait until that night or perhaps even the morning.  

“Yes, it’s adequate enough,” Luke manages, awkwardly shuffling over so he is sitting on the cloak. He takes off his outer clothes as well for good measure, leaving himself just in his underthings.  

That seems to please Aemond who is back on him almost as soon as he’s settled on the cloak. Pushing off his own outer clothes as he mouths and gropes at Luke.  

Aemond ducks down to tug off Luke’s breaches and toss them to the side with their outer clothes. Pushing up Luke’s undershirt so he can suck at Luke’s hip bones, long fingers tracing a path down to Luke’s hardening member before running behind it, softly prodding at Luke’s entrance.  

Aemond makes an unhappy grunt and Luke knows it's because he isn’t getting as wet as fast as he can with the help of his heat.  

He knows he should say it doesn’t matter, his mate and husband clearly want him and it is his duty to give his alpha what he wants. Not even as heir to the Driftmark seat can he avoid those responsibilities as omega.  

When Aemond draws his fingers back he almost does. Because he doesn’t want to ruin this moment of Aemond coming to him out of heat. Doesn’t want the feeling of being the failure in his marriage, even if his mother had made sure he knew that if his husband was going to stray, he would no matter what Luke did or did not do.  

“Shit-” Luke says instead. His member suddenly surrounded by Aemond’s mouth. The alpha’s hands on his hips to prevent him from bucking up at it. “Oh fuck.”  

Aemond grunts in response but doesn’t stop even as Luke reaches down to tug the long silver hair out of its tie and bury his hands in it in an attempt to hold on and not lose his mind to the sensation.  

He would almost swear Aemond had sent him into heat with it alone from the warmth that spreads through his body.  

Long fingers sliding along his entrance again startles him out of the haze. This time though, two slide in with only slight resistance. And that is lost quickly once they crook inside him turning his vision black.  

“I must be in heat,” Luke gasps out when Aemond releases his member. Returning to pressing kisses against the bare skin of Luke’s lower stomach.  

“You’re not,” Aemond says, his face suddenly back in Luke’s vision even as he presses a third finger in. His tone entirely too smug. “But you are as wet as you are in it.”  

Luke can’t help but laugh at it. It’s not inaccurate but it is strange for someone to say aloud.  

He shakes his head when Aemond’s expression twists at it. Arms coming to wrap around his alpha’s neck.

“You can fuck me now.” He should be ready enough even without a heat to ease the way. “If you want to that is.”  

Aemond leans down to press a quick kiss against Luke’s eye before drawing his fingers out. Luke’s wetness cold against his skin where Aemond grabs at his thighs to pull them up and over his lap to angle him how he wants before thrusting in.  

It’s not as easy as when Luke is in heat. His body not as naturally lax. But he is wet enough that it goes in easily enough, Aemond’s hips flushed against his without any real pain.  

There’s barely a moment before Aemond is thrusting. Quickly finding a fast pace that has Luke with little option but to cling to him. Letting out little moans in response to Aemond’s grunts.  

Long wet fingers find his member again and all too quickly Luke finds himself spilling between them.  

He feels Aemond thickening inside him and knows what it means.  

“Don’t knot!” Not only does Luke not know how enjoyable a knot will be without a heat to help his body with it he doesn’t want to be locked together until it goes down. Especially not on a beach where someone will eventually come looking for him.  

Aemond curses, pulling out enough that he doesn’t swell inside even if his seed still mostly makes it in, leaking out as soon as he fully pulls out and collapses next to Luke on the cloak. It’s probably best if they just have one of their dragons burn the thing rather than try and explain the stains it will now have.  

“We should not stay here much longer,” Luke says because people will be looking for him, especially after Vhagar was seen over town and then both she and Arrax have not been seen. It wouldn’t do for people to find them like this.  

“Of course,” Aemond says, standing up and tucking himself back into his breaches. Picking up his outer clothes and starting to get dressed.  

He looks over at Luke with a raised eyebrow when Luke doesn’t immediately follow suit.  

“Help me up.” It’s not that Luke needs the help. He can get up perfectly well on his own. But there’s a part of him that enjoys getting Aemond to do things for him.  

Aemond rolls his eyes at it but comes and offers his hands. Tugging Luke up with probably more force than necessary but Luke only laughs at it.  

“You are a child at times,” Aemond mutters as he returns to getting himself dressed.  

“We have a child,” Luke reminds.  

#Lucemond #lucerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #HOTD #GOT omegaverse #omegaverse #GOT mpreg #mpreg #House of the Dragon #prompt fill #prompt fic #I accidently a ficlet

[zahri-melitor]

Casspoll!

Okay I really had to think about this one and I quickly dipped into the runs I have not touched yet rather than just using their reputations:

Kelley Puckett – It’s Puckett. He created Cass. Some of her very best stories happened here – the first two Shiva fights, delivering a man’s final wishes, Nobody Dies Tonight, Thicker than Water. The absolute heart that Cass cannot allow people to be killed hits hard here. She’s still learning about what a society is.

Dylan Horrocks takes Cass and her growth and lets her mess up and brings Bruce and Barbara more into conflict over what Cass needs, but also allows Cass to be in conflict with them over what she wants. It has the Ivy twofer “The City is a Garden/The City is a Jungle” which I think is Horrocks’ best plot. It has Tough Love, where Bruce and Cass have their conversation over what the Bat means to Cass. It has Cooking the Books, where we see the abrasive side of Barbara’s personality come out and hurt her relationship with Cass. It has Cass taking her first steps into relationships, with her attraction to Tai’Darshan and Kon. It’s a messier, more complicated time.

Andersen Gabrynch has the best conversation of Fresh Blood with Tim over their life goals and their reflections on War Games. He has Destruction’s Daughter/Blood Matters and everything that comes with the culmination of that storyline. He gives Cass her first taste of civilian life. Gabrynch is the ‘how far will Cass go’ writer.

Adam Beechen: you’re all mean! Oh Beechen. He screwed up first time around, no question, but I continue to maintain he did useful things with Cass in Batgirl 2008. He brought in the chance to parallel Slade and Rose’s relationship with David and Cass’. He worked hard to find fixes for the mistakes he made. And if Fresh Blood set up the situation where we saw Tim and Cass become closer and start establishing a sibling-like relationship, then Beechen solidified it to the point that it was expected from that point onwards.

Joe Kelly: oh, Justice League Elite. You are certainly a story. I think the most important thing Kelly actually did in JLE was when Cass stabbed Kendra. It broke her. There is some beautiful writing in JLE surrounding Cass basically sobbing to Bruce over this incident, and Bruce promising her that she doesn’t have to stay undercover, he’ll pull her out, her happiness is more important to him than this mission, and Cass refusing to be extracted. And Ollie remaining there the whole time to keep an eye on Cass on Bruce’s behalf. It’s such a good paternal moment on both Bruce and Ollie’s parts, and they so very rarely get them in concert. It’s also a moment of growth in Cass that is rarely referenced, because as I must repeat, it happens in JUSTICE LEAGUE ELITE.

Bryan Hill: I have heard good things! And immediately on picking it up and going through the first three issues I saw the exact thing I’d enjoyed and wanted more of from Dixon’s 2008 BatO run – Tatsu working with and mentoring Cass – which is a solid recommendation in itself. Will 100% be coming back to this when I get up to this era in my reading.

Becky Cloonan and Michael Conrad: I dipped into #1 and #14. It suffers from the modern era problem of light and bright fluffy content without a solid base behind it. Also the fact that the writers didn’t initially realise that two of the characters they were assigned were ADULTS and were writing them that immaturely is certainly not reassuring. Um. I also know I’m not fully across modern era Cass yet, but #14 seems to miss something that’s basic to my understanding of Cass – talking can be hard but READING is harder. Cass not talking but having reading comprehension showing up constantly? It feels off. (Also I’m fascinated in how an issue like Batgirls #1 manages to be that off while still managing the Cass shower robe scene, which to my eye echoes and references the BatO 2008 Cass shower scene. Suspect they just got lucky and I’m reading too much in)

Mariko Tamaki: okay I have not yet read Shadows of the Bat: The Tower, but I have read Sounds, so I’m basing on that. Tamaki really seems to get Cass, her hand with the character work in Sounds hit some very fundamental parts of Cass’ character and struggles, and I really enjoyed it.

Overlooked: ALYSSA WONG. Wong’s work with Cass in Spirit World not only has been busy recanonising a bunch of things from Batgirl 2000, but is touching on some central aspects of Cass’s view of killing and death in beautiful resonance of things originally established by Puckett. Also it’s given Cass some narrative space back on her own, and while I think Cass’s relationship with Steph is important, I also think she’s more functional and useful to DC writers when she’s not assumed to be part of an automatic pair.

Plus a plug for Scott Snyder for Gates of Gotham and giving us proper insight into the Reborn era Cass relationships with her brothers.

#cassandra cain #writer comparisons

[pattysplaceofplaces]

No Regrets 

Leshy x Gn Reader

[Author’s Note: This is based off of the plot of the Demo “Sacrifices Must be Made.” Also Leshy needs more love. I’m thinking of making this into an actual boom thingy!]

     You would say you were a good driver, you were always cautious on the road no matter what the circumstance was. Driving in the rain always made you anxious but you were always careful. The other people on the road? That was what caused you to swerve until you went over the railing of the mountain road and tumbled down the steep edge. 

You don’t know how you survived the crash though you knew that your leg shouldn’t be twisting that way, it was hard to breathe, and glass was stabbing into your arm. 

You crawled out through a broken window letting out a croak. You looked around and realized you were surrounded by thick shrubbery, blood mixing with the dirt. The trees were so thick the midday appeared as dark as night. Would anyone find you? Would you be dead when they found you? You felt so weak. Yet at the same time, at peace. The rain softened and dried against your skin because of the wind, the sound of the trees made your eyelids heavy. This was calming. You knew things wouldn’t be okay and it was like Mother Nature herself was comforting you. You shakily exhaled and let your body fall limp against the dirt. 

You let your eyes shut. 

Then they opened again. 

Where were you? A room filled with boxes of all sizes stack on each other. You lay on layers of animal pelts with one draped over you. You felt pain in your lungs when you sat up yet you realized bandages were placed over your injuries. 

A wonder came into your mind, who had saved you? Whoever it is didn’t seem very modern. It reminded you of the cottage core aesthetic yet a lot messier. 

You placed your palm onto a smaller crate and used it as you tried to stand. Your legs were light and shaky, your head was spinning which made the simple task of getting up seem near impossible. Once you stood you let go of the crate and immediately fell forward into the crates causing you to yelp. 

You heard footsteps coming towards the room and you rushed to try and get up once more. This was so embarrassing. The door opened and in the darkness you saw eyes, with the angle you were being looked at this mystery person must have been tall. “Now, now.” His calm tone soothed your beating heart, even if it was a bit unsettling. “You mustn’t push yourself.” The figure came forward and in the candle light you could see what it was. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Your mouth hung open and you tried to speak yet only a cough came out. The forest goat man thingy crouched down in front of you with a tray. Without thinking, you grabbed the water and chugged it. He watched you curiously. After finishing your water rather ungracefully you looked up at him again. “Thank you.” It was all you could muster. Yes this situation was terrifying, the thing in front of you was terrifying but he didn’t kill you and that had to mean something. He wrapped your wounds securely and gave you a comfortable place to sleep. He set the bowl of stew down. 

“We can talk later, for now you should rest.” You didn’t have to be told twice. You scarfed down that food then went back to sleep. 

When you awoke again you spoke to the thing that had saved you. You learned his name was Leshy and that he, along with many things lived in the depths of the forest. He was polite yet rather excited. He was always checking up on you and chatting your ear off whenever he could. It was only a matter of time before he told you about a card game that would pass the time as it would take a while for you to heal. At first you were skeptical and it seemed really complicated but it was more fun than you expected it to be. Leshy made up great stories and even starting all over again was something you didn’t mind, there was always something new and exciting to be added within his game. 

Leshy couldn’t help but adore you. You ate up every word of his story and you played along as well. You were quick to trust him and tell him about yourself. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that he found you at the crash. A part of him was grieving because he knew when you healed you’d be trying to find your way back home, that he would most likely never see you again. So he decided he would make the most of the time he had with you now. He’d savor your smile, your voice, the greatest challenger he ever had. 

When your wounds healed and you learned how to walk how you used to you were just as sad to go. You didn’t keep track of the time much but you knew you had been with Leshy for about two months. In that time you perfected your skill when it came to his game, you met his fellow inhabitants of the woods like the Prospector, Angler, Trapper, and the Trader. Whenever you left the cabin you’d chat with them. 

In the span of two months it felt like you had done more than you had in your life before this. What was there to even return to? You weren’t on the best terms with your family, you didn’t have many friends, and your job was insufferable and gave you the bare minimum to keep you alive. Would it be bad if you just stayed here? If you were forever a missing person in civilian life? Would anyone even notice you’re gone? Maybe you’d be on those YouTube channels about unexplained disappearances you used to watch. 

You didn’t think you really had it in you to leave all your new friends behind, especially Leshy. You had seen wonders the world will never know. You saw what could only be defined as the supernatural. Could you really go back to your meaningless life knowing all that you know now?

So you made a choice. 

“I’m going to stay here.” 

Leshy stopped carving his new figurine to look at you. “Are you…sure? Are you sure that this is what you want?” He was overjoyed to hear that but he didn’t want to be selfish, he didn’t want you to feel like he was keeping you trapped here. 

“I’m sure.” You said without missing a beat. “If having me here is too much trouble that’s fine, I can try to build my own cabin thingy.” 

He placed his dagger down as he looked at the figurine then at you. “No you can stay. I want you to stay.” He placed the carving on the table, it was a spitting image of you. “I’m overjoyed, I’m honored.” Finding words was so hard right now, why couldn’t he just say what he was actually feeling? Why was he being bashful now? 

You smile and put your hand on his. “I could say the same. You finding me is the best thing that could ever happen to me.” 

You didn’t regret the decision you had made. It’s been two years since you agreed to stay here and you wouldn’t change a thing. At first it was hard to live without technology but Leshy and his friends had kept you entertained with their antics. You ended up learning how to navigate around the woods and make things off the land. 

You sat on the crudely made tire swing on a tree near Leshy’s cabin, enjoying the fresh air and the sights around you. The breeze felt nice on your face and the sound of the birds was something you couldn’t do without. 

You didn’t regret a thing. 

#Inscryption x reader #leshy inscryption #Leshy x reader #Leshy x reader Inscryption #X reader #forest peepaw

[sage-nebula]

character of your choice + 89!

"I'm looking at you through the glass. Don't know how much time has passed. All I know is that it feels like forever. But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head." — "Through Glass" - Stone Sour

"Em ot meht wohs, wodniw laitselec."

As the words fell from Claudia's lips, the blood from the beheaded cuddle monkeys she held in her hands fell into the bucket of water in front of her. For a split second, she saw the blood billow through the water; in the next she felt the surge of their Star energy ripple through her, crackling under her skin like the popping pebbles candy she had invented years ago, and her vision went white.

Every dark primal magic spell felt different. Dark Sun magic made her skin feel like melting wax. Dark Sky magic made her lungs feel fit to burst. But Dark Star magic was on another level entirely. It was as if she could feel every atom of her body, frothing like water left to boil for too long, spilling over so that it filled every inch of the cave she shared with her father's remains.

Claudia released the breath she'd been holding, and scrunched both her face and concentration as she stared hard at the basin in front of her. It was the only aspect of the cave not whited out by her spell. It alone was bright, shining with swirling colors as it sifted through her whims to show her what she wanted — what was it that she wanted? Why had she tried this spell?

Claudia's eyes narrowed. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. And with all the strength she could muster, she pulled her mind away from the bubbling under her skin to focus hard on the liquid window she had created. At once, the blur of colors slowed into a single, solid image.

There.

The castle in Katolis.

It was just as she remembered it: bright stone walls with uneven towers, a solid sanctuary under a bright blue sky. The particular view given to her was her favorite courtyard, the one with the bench under the tree that had allegedly been there for a few hundred years. It was the courtyard where Soren trained Callum in swordplay, where Ezran had chipped his tooth when he fell while playing hopscotch.

Claudia took a deep breath through her nose. She didn't want to look at this courtyard. It wasn't the reason for her spell.

She waved her hand over the basin, and the resulting ripples formed a new image for her.

This time, she was looking in on her bedroom, which was exactly how she'd left it. Scattered notes were all over her desk; there was a stack of books on the chair next to it that she swore she would eventually return to the library, but always got distracted before she could. She had made her bed, at least, but had left her closet door ajar; she could just make out the jar of salamander eyeballs she'd been pickling before she left, tucked on a shelf beside her favorite pair of sandals.

She could use those salamander eyeballs. They were probably almost ready. She knew the rotation of the guards at the castle; if only she could find a way there and back that would be fast enough so as not to put her father at risk—

Claudia jumped as her bedroom door opened, and the water in the basin splashed in response to her knee hitting it, threatening to dispel the image. She placed both hands on either side of the basin to calm it, and shifted her view of her room so she could see who entered. Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw him.

Soren.

Her first instinct was indignation. What was he doing in her room? It was her room. And he was messier than she was, and far less careful with magical things—

But as he walked over to her desk, the lump in her throat sidled down into her heart. It had been months since she had last seen him, at least. Months since the battle at the Storm Spire, when he had—when he had—

She clenched her fist on her knee.

It had been months. But there he was, in her room, and he didn't look that different from how she remembered. His hair was a little longer, but it was still the same sandy blond. He had a little stubble around his chin—was he trying to grow a beard? Claudia snorted a laugh. He would like ridiculous with a beard. She hoped he was trying to grow one. She could use something to laugh about.

Soren, of course, couldn't see her. But he was holding something in his hands, and as she watched he set it down on her desk. It was another piece of paper, and it had something written on it that she couldn't make out. A fault more of his handwriting than her spell, she thought; his penmanship was atrocious.

"Wrote another poem for you, Clauds," Soren said, and once more Claudia about jumped out of her skin. His voice was so clear, it was like he was there in the cave with her. "I think you'll like this one. It's about—well, you'll see when you get back."

Claudia stared even more intently at the papers on the desk. Not all of them were her notes, she could see that now. There were at least four others that bore the same scribbles as the one Soren had just delivered.

She swallowed hard, her eyes suddenly stinging.

Soren sucked enough air into his cheeks to make them puff, and released it in a loud exhale. He swung his arms by his sides, looking every bit as awkward as he always had at fancy castle dinners. He stayed there for another second or two, and then knocked his knuckles twice against the back of her chair before he turned and left.

Claudia pressed her lips together tightly, and swiped her sleeve across her eyes. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Why was he talking to her? It's not like he had any way of knowing she was using that spell. And he could walk again, so it made no sense that he was writing poetry when that was only something he said he was going to do if he'd remained paralyzed. The whole thing was silly. Silly, sappy Sor-bear.

She sniffed, and scrubbed the last tears from her eyes. Her time was almost up; she could feel the magic she'd consumed fizzling out under her skin, and the image in the basin was becoming blurrier, less distinct. But there was one last place she still wanted to see. She waved her hand over the basin again, and the water rippled, the image reshaping to show her another room: her father's study.

Her father's occupied study.

Claudia sat up straight, staring first in shock, and then fury at the sight of Callum in her father's study. It made no sense—why was he in there? He had no reason to be in there. He wasn't being chased by a moonshadow elf assassin, her father wasn't there to answer any questions. Her father was—for the moment, he was dead. It was only temporary, she was going to fix it, Aaravos had assured her she could fix it and had taught her even this spell, so she knew he wasn't lying—but for the moment, he was dead. Her father was dead, and in this cave, not in his study.

But Callum was in his study. And as she watched, it became clear it was because he had taken the study. He was seated at a desk, pouring over a tome of some kind. He had changed the decor; there were pieces of paper tacked up to the walls that hadn't been there before, he had one of his coats thrown over one of the spare chairs, had kicked off his boots to wear house slippers instead. He had made himself at home. So, what, Callum was the high mage now? Callum? He had broken her primal stone, on purpose. Unless he had somehow found another one, it wasn't like he could even do magic. He couldn't even be a baby mage without magic, much less a high one.

Then again, Claudia supposed Callum had friends in high places now. He had decided to betray she and her father both to side with Xadia. Maybe the dragon queen had seen fit to give him another primal stone. Maybe he had decided to sell out humanity for new toy, because he thought himself too good to use the gifts Aaravos had already given to them.

The gifts that let Claudia spy on him even now, while he was none the wiser.

Callum tapped his pencil against his desk as he read, then glanced at something over his shoulder. He looked back to his book, and then promptly shut it before he pushed away from his desk. As Claudia watched, he strode across the office to an object covered by a large sheet, and then ripped the sheet off with a flourish.

Claudia sucked in a sharp breath.

It was the mirror.

It was Aaravos' mirror.

"There has to be something here," Callum muttered. He tapped his finger against his chin, tilting his head this way and that. "He wouldn't have kept it for no reason. He had to have been using it for something. But what?"

"That's not for you to know," Claudia said, but of course Callum couldn't hear her. He traced his fingers along the runes engraved in the frame, and she squeezed the basin so hard her hands hurt. That wasn't his mirror. That wasn't his office. He had no right to be there. He had no right to have that mirror. He had no right—!

As Callum touched his fingers to the glass, Claudia shoved the basin away from her with a wordless yell. The water splashed against the cave floor, and with the spell broken, a dark void consumed Claudia's vision. She braced herself on her hands and knees, breathing hard, as the fizzle of Dark Star magic under her skin finally seeped away, and her vision slowly but steadily returned to her—fuzzy at first, but then as clear as it ever was.

So that was how things were, then. In the months that she and her father were gone, Callum had made himself cozy in the high mage's office, playing at being one. Ezran was no doubt the king, then—there was no way anyone without a bias would make someone who couldn't do magic a high mage—and Soren . . . Soren was writing her poems, and leaving them on her desk for when she came back. As if she ever could.

Claudia sat back, her hands on her lap. With the spell broken, the cave was so quiet now. Her father's remains were—well, they were being kept fresh. But he couldn't say a word to her, not yet. And Aaravos hadn't spoken to her for days. It was just Claudia, alone in the cave with what was left of her father. Her brother, her home—both of those were a lifetime away, never mind the continent. It didn't matter how many poems left, or how useful those salamander eyeballs were.

Claudia could never go back.

[Send me a character or ship, and a number from 1 - 100, and I'll write a vignette based on the corresponding song on my Spotify wrapped.]

#thank you!!! #the dragon prince #tdp #claudia #tdp claudia #soren #tdp soren #prince callum #takes place btwn s3 and s4 obvs #remember Claudia didn't see Callum at the Storm Spire . . . she doesn't know he can do primal magic w/o a stone yet :D #fic fix