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dollsuguru · 3 months

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Request: Getou feels bad for secretly liking Gojo’s gf and making excuses to touch her.

the enormity of my desire disgusts me.

contents: f!reader, one-sided love, obsession, cursing, touching (not unwanted but the intention is unbeknownst to reader as geto makes it a point to always want physical contact w them), mentions of self-destructive behaviors, guilt, & delusions. w.c: ~ 2.3k

a/n: hi! tysm for requesting :’) this is my first ever request/first time writing so please bear w me & i hope you enjoy! constructive criticism is totally welcome! <3

guilt creeps up suguru’s throat like a slithering serpent.

it crawls around the base of his tongue, writhing farther down, embedding its fangs into the flesh of his throat. a raw, mangled, bloody mess left in its wake.

remorse, witnessing the disarray that guilt’s plight leaves, frantically tries to discern where a home can be made. perhaps it can dance along his ribcage. pirouetting across his bones until it reaches a bloody cavern where it can dwell within a hole burrowed deep inside suguru’s heart.

maybe all of this despair can be washed away… a desire to cleanse his palate & purge his feelings away persists, yet he doesn’t allow himself the reprieve.

instead, he decides to swallow his shame down like a bitter whiskey, relishing in the thorn-like pin prickles. the harsh amber reflecting in his fatigued, glassy eyes.

the ache serves as a reminder.

suguru figures that the sharp gnawing pain that spikes his heart & torments his throat is the very least he deserves.

his therapist did say he had a tendency to wallow in his self-destructive thoughts. delude himself & cyclically make bad choices which turned into bad habits. but what’s another bad decision to him? a pyromaniac to his very core; suguru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy playing with fire.

allowing himself a moment of respite, he fishes out a cigarette he stole out of shoko’s purse from the left pocket of his leather jacket. a silver heart-shaped vivienne westwood lighter in the right. he takes it out, rolling it softly in his warm palm, lackadaisically playing with the switch. imagining the cold metal were your cold hands instead, his own seeking to offer up warmth for your comfort. he gazes softly at the flame; flickering on and off. on and off. on and off. a burning fire reflected in his eyes. a burning desire razing his heart.

the whole world in the palm of his hands — the heart you presented to him.

(a gift from you to him — you begged him to quit smoking, it was bad for his health and you wanted him to be there in the future as best man at yours & satoru’s wedding. with a tight-lipped smile & crinkled eyes, he said he would.

always the deceiver.

you lit up, gaze softening while telling him to specifically use this lighter to light up the teakwood candle you bought him for his birthday. his smile turned fond, eyes crinkled softly with genuine mirth & adoration, he said he would. and he did.

always the sentimentalist.)

bringing the cigarette to his lips, he exhales a puff of smoke, allowing his low-lidded gaze to flit across the room. the warm lights illuminating the grungy bar, a favorite of nanami’s & shoko’s.

he reminisces on the days where both of you would talk for hours. from deep conversations about space, morality, your futures & pasts, to asking each other about what food you’d eat for eternity (cold zaru soba noodles for him, any form of potato for you), savory or sweet (both of you chose savory — suguru relishes in the fact that he has a connection with you on this), & if you two would still be best friends if the other one was a worm (both of you answered yes — you’d build a terrarium where wormguru could play & suguru would keep you in his pocket not caring if he’d be dubbed the weirdly hot worm-man.) from the serious to the silly, suguru felt his chest bloom with tender warmth. from the bottom of his heart, he knows that in this world and any others, he could truly be himself with you.

a soft sigh escapes him, a small smile gracing his face thinking about his memories with you. calling the bartender over for another drink after he downs his whiskey, he drawls out, “give me somethin’ sweet.”

he turns back around to the crowd of strangers, unintentionally smiling. he finds a few pretty boys & girls gawking at him, hyping themselves and each other up to go talk to him. he sees a few more pretty boys & girls looking away from his intense gaze, too shy to go up to him, praying instead that he’ll go to them.

the grin that previously took residence on his face falters. he finds himself upset that they’d think his smile was reserved for any one of them. none of them pique his interest per usual, & he hopes that the bags underneath his eyes, his myriad of piercings & tattoos, chipped black nail polish, and overall resting bitch face will stop anyone from coming near him.

(he knows it won’t. people often went after suguru and not satoru. he was always more caring, more in tune with his emotions with an air of magnetic mystique, unlike his brash, loud, & arrogant counterpart.)

suguru intakes a sharp breath, surprising himself with the haughty & bitter thought against his best friend, quickly washing it down with a sweet daiquiri hoping to honey the words in both his throat & mind, while simultaneously praying that it would soothe his heart.

slightly more alert, his gaze wanders around the room again. tired eyes widening slightly, lighting up greatly when he sees you.

there you were in all of your glory.

sitting leisurely, a leg swung upon the other, arm resting over the back of the tattered red vinyl couch, the very same one you both had countless conversations on. how were you so effortlessly cool? you could do anything and suguru would revel in it — drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

and like a moth, he found himself gliding across the bar towards you, his feet moving faster than his brain. his body demanding that it be near you, that it be graced with your presence. with a flick of his ring-clad fingers, his cigarette is crushed underneath his black boots. a piece of strawberry gum is popped inside his mouth along with another reapplication of vanilla lip balm to his lips to make sure that you knew they were soft to the touch.

with his heart beating ridiculously fast, he takes a deep breath before he stands in front of you, your perfume enveloping his senses making him slightly delirious from how delectable you smell. he prays that the blush dusting his cheeks fools you into thinking that he just drank too much; that it’s not because of you peering up at him through your lashes with your pretty eyes that are now affectionately directed towards his own.

“yo! suguru! long time no see!” you wave as you get up to greet him, a massive grin overtaking your face, eyes almost crinkled shut because you’re so excited to see one of your best friends.

without warning, suguru envelops you into a tight hug. his left hand placed against your lower back while his right hand cradles your head against his chest, your cheek pressing against his beating heart. suguru places his chin on the top of your head, craning his face slightly to get a whiff of your shampoo, ghosting a faint kiss on your hair that he knows you don’t feel, relishing in this moment with you. for a few seconds he can pretend… he deserves that much at least, he figures.

he could stay holding you in his arms forever, your body pressed up against his, protecting you from everything & everyone bad in this world, shielding you from predatory eyes around the bar. fucking wolves, the lot of them — suguru contemptuously thinks. it’s a good thing you’re here in his arms, suguru muses, confident in his ability to keep you safe.

as quickly as that thought dashes through his brain, you pull away. not wanting to alarm you with his panic that you’d leave him, a tight grip stays around your waist, forcing you to sit back down. he positions himself right next to you, his thighs touching your own, his right arm draped across your shoulder.

something that you can consider friendly.

something that he can consider more than that.

affectionate, no matter which way you take it.

“it’s been a while.” a fond smile beams across his face, bright amber eyes desperately glazing over your face. you’re so close to him and he’s so attentive to you, he imagines that the boy across the bar must think you both look like a couple. the pleasure suguru derives from that thought is second to none. you do look like you’d be his. he’s certain that he looks like he’d be yours, if his devoted nature is anything to go by.

he takes a a few strands of your hair, twirling them slightly around his fingers. “what are you doing here anyways? i wish i saw you before, we could’ve hung out!” suguru teasingly pouts, lips slightly jutted out, his eyes twinkling with playful mirth.

“tell me about it,” you playfully whine. “thankfully i just got here so we have plenty of time to hang out! don’t worry, i’ll make up for it so you can forgive me.”

“you never have to apologize for anything.” seriousness takes over his tone. suguru doesn’t want you to ever feel bad, even as a joke. not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his tense energy, he eases up his features and winks, “don’t worry your pretty little head about it, i’ll let you off the hook this time.”

you bark out a laugh which makes him elated, glad that he was able to make you smile. “sugu, you’re way too sweet! and ooh — you asked what i was doing here! toru wanted to chill out here for a bit, said if he didn’t get to drink a virgin piña colada right this second he’d faint.” you gaze around the bar, muttering under your breath, “he should be on his way here soon…”

right… satoru.

suguru feels his mouth get dry by the second, a venomous pang of guilt daggers his heart. his eye twitches along with his fingers, wondering if he should take his arm off of you.

if satoru saw this would he just consider it friendly touching? would he think that suguru was trying to make the moves on you? would he scream in his face about how can his best friend stab him in the back this way? the bitter taste of betrayal coats suguru’s tongue like a curse, and before he can do anything about it, a big SMACK! on his shoulder wakes him out of his trance.

“SUGUUUUUUUU! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!” satoru bursts out onto the scene loudly, holding both your & suguru’s shoulders from behind the couch, bringing you two towards each other in a massive hug. with satoru’s face in the middle, smooshing both of your & suguru’s cheeks against his, suguru can’t help but feel a gnawing sense of shame.

satoru, affectionate as ever, kisses you both on the cheek. snowy hair ruffling with his actions, aquamarine eyes twinkling as bright as starlight, white eyelashes fluttering against the pink blush hued upon his soft cheeks. from here, suguru can see the light dusting of freckles on satoru’s nose, & the lightest sheen of gloss on his pink lips. no doubt from kissing you before he got here.

a twisted part of suguru is thankful for the kiss on the cheek, your glossy residue imprinted on his skin. an indirect kiss, he muses.

“sorry it took so long, i had to park so far away. hope you didn’t miss me too much, angel.” satoru pecks you on the cheek again, cheekily stealing an upside down kiss on the lips from you while he’s at it.

“no worries baby, i had sugu to keep me company.” you smile wide, eyes softening as satoru smoothes down your hair.

suguru forgot.

satoru trusts him with his entire life. with you.

the loud, brash, arrogant, self-centered boy suguru knew as a teen had grown up. cleaning up his act the moment he met you. enamored with your beauty, kindness, & personable nature — satoru fell deeply in love. he was still loud, but only to proclaim his love on the rooftops for you. he was brash at times but never with you. his arrogance was also truly never unfounded, he was just that confident in his own self and in the relationship he could have with you. suguru still thinks satoru can be self-centered at times, but never about you.

satoru puts you forward in every single aspect of his life — devoted. loyal. faithful. unbelievably constant with his love & adoration for you. your perfect other half.

your true soulmate.

you’re his one and only. and he’s yours.

“satoru! it’s been a while.” suguru prays the loud music can cover up the slight crack in his voice. he can feel his throat constricting like a python, he coughs to clear it, wanting to rid himself of the strangling feeling. he does what he does best in that moment: putting on a facade. a tight-lipped smile along with crinkled eyes graces his features, and he hopes that both you & satoru mistake it for pure happiness.

“you good, man?” satoru tilts his head like a puppy, looking at him questioningly. you do the same, concern clouding your beautiful eyes. he’s terrified that you both could see right through him.

“yeah.” suguru whispers quietly.

the ache that torments his throat & spikes his heart serves as a reminder.

he puts his warm hand over your cold ones in a comforting gesture. for who would it bring solace? he doesn’t know. at this point in time, he can’t bring himself to care. “just the summer heat.”

he brushes his thigh against yours once again, fiddling with your fingers softly. he figures he can allow himself this.

glancing into your eyes, his reflection stares back him.

he accepts that living with this ache of shame & this disgusting sense of desire is the very least someone like him deserves.

he figures he should allow it to devour him.

#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #<- not really that’s just in geto’s mind #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #wanted to make this a deep dive in his psyche but also wormguru came to me in a dream and i had to mention it or i’d die #toji’s worm took one look at suguru & called him mommy… it was onto something… suguru gives mean hot girlfriend energy 95% of the time #my writings #personal

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tragedybunny · 7 months

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Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold - Astarion x F!Reader

I've been waiting to write this for some time. I'm absolutely thrilled with it and I hope you think it's beautiful.

Reader and Astarion have come a long way since that meeting on the beach. They've made it all the way to their wedding.

“Where in the hells is Gale?” Astarion fusses while fidgeting with the brocade crimson overcoat he’s wearing. “That man is always late.”

“He’ll be here Love,” you give him a small kiss on his cheek and take his hand, trying your best to keep things calm. "He's not even actually late yet."

“Still haven’t found patience to be a virtue I see,” Shadowheart strolls over to the two of you where you wait under an arbor of night-blooming jasmine, her arm hooked in Lae’zel’s.

“Would you expect any different,” Lae’zel adds a wide smile to her words, an attempt to make it clear she’s joking. The Githyanki has certainly seen her share of change since you met her, really hadn’t you all though?

“While I’m glad you two have finally developed a sense of humor, I’d rather not be the subject of it.” You can feel his agitation rising and it’s your turn to silently plead with the universe for Gale to hurry up.

“Perhaps he’s nervous,” Lae’zel turns to her partner, pretending Astarion isn’t right there fuming.

“I am not!” Before he gets any more worked up, they both pull the pair of you into a sudden embrace, leaving Astarion stuttering and you trying not to giggle at his expense.

“Congratulations you two, we’ll go mingle and pray for Gale’s safety if he’s any later,” The two of them join arms again and make their way back over to the crowd greeting an enthusiastic Mol and her gang of children that’s expanded beyond just the original tieflings. They’re becoming quite the criminal enterprise. There are so many people here, lives you’ve both touched. Originally you’d planned to just stay at your little house for the event, but when more requests to attend kept coming, you had to choose somewhere else. Duke Ravenguard had graciously offered you private use of Bloomridge Park.

“You are nervous, aren’t you,” you whisper mischievously and watch him try to hide it.

“Of course not, I managed to convince you to come this far, now it’s all formality,” your heart skips a beat when he smiles, the tips of fangs peeking out from under his lip. Smiles like that were all too rare when you first met him.

“I don’t recall needing much convincing.” Truthfully, you don’t remember what had brought the subject up, but Astarion had reminded you that it wasn’t a point, legally speaking, as neither of you technically existed.

“It doesn’t have to be in an official record anywhere, it’s just a promise we would make to one another. And we do know the perfect Cleric for a nighttime ceremony.” The way he’d just stood there for a moment you thought you'd said something wrong. Perhaps it was bringing up a Cleric and making it a sworn oath, he didn’t exactly have any love for religion. But then he was dropping to his knees, taking your hands in his, and begging you to be his wife. It was appropriately dramatic for him. And now, here you were, gathered with friends and found family, waiting on a late wizard.

“Brother!” Beside you, Astarion braces and a pale figure collides with him, embracing him tightly

“Hello Dal,” he gingerly returns her hug, as you notice Aurelia remaining a respectful distance behind them. “It’s good to see the both of you too,” he nods in Aurelia’s direction. His relationship with his “siblings” is complicated, but the horror they shared bonds them, and some of them have tried to make a family out of what is left to them. Dalyria seems to be the most persistent, she even had the two of you come visit their home in the Underdark.

“I’m so happy for you Astarion,” she finally releases him but leaves a hand on his arm fondly. “You’ll have to come visit again. I’ll even make Petras promise to behave.”

There’s turmoil in him only you can see, he would love to forget about anything that reminds him of Cazador, but the sisterly love Dal tries to give him is something he’s missed in his life. “At least it will be safer for him that way.”

“Stop,” she smiles and gives him a peck on the cheek. “We’ll talk more later.” As she walks away, Aurelia gives a stiff wave.

“His time is up, he's de-” A flash of light interrupts and when it fades two figures are standing amongst the crowd, a wizard you know well and one you briefly met.

“Sorry for the wait,” Gale begins awkwardly, trying to ignore Astarion’s considerable glare, “we were occupied in a bit of an undertaking…”

“But I am sure you will find the reasons most acceptable,” Elminster takes over, giving your floundering friend a reprieve.

Another flash of light as two more figures appear and you can't believe your eyes. Your heart leaps and you shout inadvertently. "Karlach! Wyll!" Without a second thought, you launch yourself at both of them, Astarion following along more reservedly.

"Steady on there, Soldier," Karlach pulls you into a smothering hug.

"How," you ask, smoothing the cream lace of your dress as she lets you go, still stunned she's outside Avernus without exploding.

"Wizards," Wyll smiles, glancing at Gale and Elminster. "We had to find a way back, there's no way we'd miss this."

"It won't hold forever, but we think we've got a way I can come back for visits. Until we get something permanent. Good news is Zariel's seemed distracted by something lately."

"I suppose overall this is an appropriate excuse for being late," Astarion finally relents.

"Aww, come on Fangs, don't be sour, it's your wedding." Karlach has a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Do not," but it's too late, the tiefling picks him up in a crushing hug. "I missed you too Karlach."

Tears suddenly start to form in your eyes, seeing them all together again, it was something you feared might never be. Wyll gives Asatrion a less brutal greeting and you turn to Elminster. "Thank you. You will stay right," it's the least you can do.

"Gale has assured me there are to be many culinary delights after, and of course, I've never seen a vampire spawn get married. So I believe I shall."

"Ah. I see Father made it," Wyll waves to Duke Ravengaurd who had been waiting a respectful distance away. "Best go see him, we'll catch up more after."

"You both better save a dance for me," Karlach calls over her shoulder, taking his arm, and kissing his temple.

"Tell me you have them," Astarion has fixed his attention back on Gale, and you rush to his side before he can begin another tirade.

"Worried I would eat them?" Gale has recovered himself from Astarion’s initial onslaught and is smiling brightly.

"Yes," your beloved is still in no mood for jokes.

"Honestly Astarion," you give him a look.

"Ugh, fine, I'll calm down. Once he hands them over." You're lost as to what Gale has that's so important considering the occasion.

"Never change my friend," he laughs and pulls a small box from a pocket on his robes and opens it gently. Inside there are two gold rings with small red stones set in them, you can feel the hum of magic in them.

“Sending Stones?” You glance at Astarion as he takes the box from Gale.

For a moment he seems almost shy about it. “I thought it would be nice if we were always able to speak to each other, no matter what. I know it’s not feasible to never be separated.” The two of you had spent almost every moment of the last couple of years in each other’s presence, but as Astarion continued to heal, he seemed more comfortable with time spent apart.

“You’re adorable, you know that,” your lips brush the tip of his nose, the gift is an incredibly sweet sentiment, and you’re so proud of how far he’s come.

Under the right circumstances, vampires actually can blush. “I..” he starts, sounding like he’s going to grouse about something, probably being called adorable in front of everyone, but stops. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why you think that my Love, after everything I’ve done.”

You reach up to brush his cheek and run a finger through his curls. “That wasn’t who you really are.”

“I take it, we're ready.” Isobel joins you under the arbor, eyes already fixed on the moon above, and you both nod in response. “Then let us begin,” her voice carries to the crowd and silence falls. “We come here, under Our Lady’s Light, to bless this couple and sanctify their bond.”

You honestly don’t remember many of Isobel’s words after that as Astarion takes your hand and you get lost in his soft, crimson eyes. Maybe it’s a bit terrible of you to ask Selune’s blessing and then not pay attention, but you think she can understand. “The rings,” Isobel prompts and Astarion retrieves them from his pocket, opening them so the Cleric can bless them. “May the Moonmaiden’s light ever guide your hearts toward each other.” A nearly imperceptible mote of silver light seems to land on them and lends the jewels in them an unearthly glow.

Astarion tenderly picks one up as you proffer your finger. Isobel had agreed to let you both speak your own vows, as long as they didn’t directly offend any of Selune’s teachings. You’d reassured Astarion every step of the way that you didn’t need it to be a sworn oath in front of clergy, but he’d oddly insisted, saying he wanted to swear himself to you to the fullest. “As long as it’s Isobel though, she’s the only trustworthy one.” Shadowheart was still figuring out how much religion she wanted in her life, though it seemed Selune was patient as she continued to have a Cleric's gifts.

The ring slips on your finger perfectly and your heart stutters, your vision getting watery again. You do the same for him in turn and you both entwine your hands, speaking in unison. “Unto thee, I vow, mine heart and home, mine life and love, for now, and all seasons. Let me never from thy side be parted, and unto thee, no evil do. Until, at last, my life shall leave me, this my beloved, is my pledge to you. So I do swear.”

“And so sworn before our Lady, I do pronounce thee wed.” The crowd behind you applauds, and you can barely see Astarion through the tears.

Lae’zel and Karlach are shouting raucously, “Kiss! Kiss!”

You start to lean forward and notice his eyes are just as wet as yours. “Hells, why did I agree to do this in public,” he laughs, dabbing his cheeks with the cuff of his sleeve.

“You couldn’t miss being the center of attention,” your laugh is lost in a happy sob. “Damn it, kiss me before I pass out or something.”

Softly, he pulls you in, lips finding yours. The chaste peck turns deeper, giving the crowd what they want judging by the noise. But then something unexpected happens, there’s the tinkle of mischievous laughter, as though a woman stands near to you. A voice that’s both honey-sweet but radiating power whispers in your ear, “congratulations my dear child,” and you feel a surge of fae-touched magic, reminding you of that day you took a different oath.

The kiss breaks and Astarion is staring at you, surprise clearing away his tears. “I know you.”

Everything goes numb in the rush of terror that follows, he’d learned some of who you were before the Nautiloid, but there was much still to tell. “Astarion I’m so-”

A slender finger is pressed to your lips. “Hush Love, tomorrow. And it changes nothing, I still love you with all my unbeating heart. Now let’s indulge everyone since they came all this way to celebrate us.”

The night is full of feasting, drinking, song, and dancing. The two of you mingle with old friends and those whom you met only briefly, the scents of a delectable feast wafting through the air. When the music starts, you share a waltz under the night sky, Astarion holding you close and whispering in your ear, “love you Sunlight.”

True to her word, Karlach insists on a dance with both of you, surprising you with her talent for it. “I’ve been teaching her,” Wyll looks over at her and Astarion lovingly from where he’s dancing with you. “Once you find a safe place to rest, Avernus can be a bit boring.”

You stumble across Lae’zel, angrily giving gold to Mol and her crew. “She lost a bet,” Mol says proudly.

“Oh really, and what sort of scam bet did you get her to agree to, my favorite tiny criminal” Astarion asks fondly. Mol comes to visit you sometimes and you’ve decided you’d rather not know what he’s been teaching her.

“She thought you might light on fire as soon as it got religious,” Mol laughs and scampers off.

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve seen me in temples before.”

“Chk, but never swearing an oath.”

“She has a point,” you nudge him playfully.

“Oh you are going to pay for that later,” he leans in to nip at your neck, causing you to shiver.

Dawn nears much too soon and you can see some of his happiness evaporating. There still was no solution you’d found to let him live in the light. “We should go,” you whisper in his ear, “what’s a wedding without the wedding bed?” Ever so lightly, you let your tongue brush against his ear, a spot of divine torment for him you’ve found, and listen as he gasps softly.

“Indeed my Love,” his mood revives and the two of you make your good-byes, your friends having promised to clean up the aftermath of the night. A young woman you think you recognize passes you an open bottle of wine on the way out of the park, “a gift from summer’s best,” she says and it fills you with a strange sensation for a moment before Astarion’s mouth is on yours again.

Your house isn’t far from Bloomridge and the two of you stroll the streets in a blissful, dreamy state, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing drinks from the wine that tastes of sweet berries and summer rains. Lights dance in the morning mists and everything feels transcendtly perfect as you ascend the steps to your home. Astarion pins against your front door, kissing you hungrily and letting his hands wander your body. “My wife,” he breathes against your skin as his lips travel down your neck.

Heat sparks inside you, ravenous for him. “My husband,” you sigh, lost in your love for him.

#astarion x tav #Astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing #x reader

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harocat · 9 months

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Why People (Especially Gay People) Should Watch Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Thirty plus year old former greatest martial artist in the world, Li Lianhua, travels around in a poor man's version of Howl's Moving Castle dispensing sometimes quack, sometimes seems to be pretty accurate medical care to people throughout the land for a quick buck. He is dying a potentially preventable death because he was poisoned ten years ago and refused to seek treatment from his martial arts sect because he felt like he let them down (a lot of them died, and they think he died too). Hopefully he doesn't die for real at the end. He's been stripped of 90% of his martial arts powers, so he basically is just some guy. He does not GAF about almost anything. He likes to cook. He's smarter than everyone. He's our hero.

He has a cute dog by the way. Its name is Fox Spirit, but it is very much a dog.

Along the way he meets Fang Duobing, an annoying, oblivious to class consciousness (but still lovable) rich kid who makes it his mission to travel together with Li Lianhua so they can solve crime. He has huge puppy energy. He wants to be an official detective, and he needs LLH to help him out. He has a serious case of heart eyes for his shifu, and he shows zero interest in any woman ever. He believes, due to a previous encounter, that he's destined to be Li Xiangyi's student in martial arts. Oh and Li Xianygi is Li Lianhua's true identity, so he's kind of like, FDB's shifu twice over. He has no idea that LLH is actually the swordsman of legend.... yet.

Along the way they solve murder mysteries and also get involved in tomb raiding adventures complete with Indiana Jones style booby traps, backstabbing, and weird, creepy kids.

By the way, LLH's archrival from a decade ago, before he left the martial arts world, was Di Feisheng. He leads up an alliance that LLH's was pitted against, and one that was viewed as a scourge in the martial arts world.

LLH's last battle before his 'death' was with DFS, so the martial world believes DFS killed him, as does DFS. Di Feisheng finds him again, and is super DTF (fuck, or fight? actually both), but when he finds out that LLH lost his martial arts powers, he makes it his mission to restore them so they can have the final showdown they deserve.

The fight scenes rule.

Were they friends in the past before they became rivals? We don't know yet. All we know is that they have extreme divorced energy, and DFS wants nothing more than to get remarried. He's gay. He's so gay. He's legitimately confused when he finds out that LLH has an ex girlfriend. He's seriously like 'I NEVER THOUGHT YOU'D BE INTERESTED IN WOMEN.'

You bet your ass LLH is wearing a wedding dress here.

So all three of them travel together to solve murders, which they do, with aplomb. The whole time DFS pretends he doesn't care while making moon eyes at LLH and making sure no harm ever comes to him. Fang Duobing is confused and probably jealous.

Yeah he really did pledge to marry Li Lianhua in like, episode two.

He also, at that point, has NO idea the true identity of either of them.

Right now DFS is no longer traveling with them, but I believe he'll be back to them soon (he's still plenty involved in the story and present), and the three will continue their shenanigans. And anyway, he's still annoying LLH despite them not traveling together (to be fair, pretty much everyone annoys LLH). There's also sect drama! Secret alliances! Completely wack murder mysteries! And always with a side-dish of heavy homo. They're going to be the best found family.

There's eighteen episodes of forty out right now, and it's streaming on IQIYI or wherever you choose to pirate your Chinese Dramas. It's EXTREMELY entertaining every single episode; funny, addictive, and yeah, pretty gay.

#mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #fan duobing #li lianhua

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dickfuckk · 10 months

Text

Everything we know about s2 so far (plot-ish)

Pearl necklace + important addition

Spanish Jackie fights with Blackbeard

Roach is in a dinghy with other characters at some point

Roach is having “the best day ever” and it’s very relaxing. He’s with someone else by a stream

Roach and Fang paint their faces white

Lesbian pirates (one of them is called Archie)

Blackbeard? Possibly makes Archie fight her gf to the death?

Izzy most likely loses his foot

Izzy gets better/redemption arc? (16:30 min)

A character calling himself Prince Ricky will meet Stede

Lucius is most likely alive and 100% in the season

They trained a rat (but might have cut that scene)

The Revenge will most likely burn or blow up [x] (+ so much more)

There’s a torturer and he’s going all in with the torture

Stede becomes a man (28 min.)

There’s going to be a wedding [x]

This is the groom so most likely not someone from the crew getting married

Red flag/Chinese pirate crew

"Swampy town folk"

There will most likely be a cave scene (+ much more)

They’re most likely filming in real water for some scenes

Hornigold

Lighthouse scene

Jim will most likely be making out with someone

Alex Sherman has a cameo in it

Tight pants

New costumes (8:30 min) [x] - Wee John's new costume in particular should be great (45:50 min)

"Cool guest stars" (and most likely a Prince soundtrack)

Jim is going to be wearing crocs

Goat [x]

Stormy weather and ep9 sky?

Rory might be there (just bc she's unsure if she's allowed to mention him lmao)

More action than season 1 (53 min) [x] [x] [x] (+ much more)

8 episodes in total

The "dudes" will be dressed up as the British and sing Rule Britannia in powdered wigs

Timeskip

And of course my season 2 crew list

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd s2 #ofmd2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #i'm not losing my mind why would you think that #if i found out i forgot smth i will cry actually #gfdhjska #and thanks to meow and ida for the help remembering everything and finding the sources for everything #s2 list

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cantstoptheimagines · 2 years

Text

Honeymoon (Walter DeVille | The Invitation)

Summary — It’s your first night as Walt’s new wife.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Potential spoilers for The Invitation; literally just pure fucking smut because I’m a slut for this man; mentions of vampirism (including smoking hot Thomas Doherty fangs, biting, blood, etc.); themes of ‘Predator vs Prey’; cursing; far too much usage of ‘my love’; Evie is stronger than me because I would have agreed to be Walter’s wife in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 4,333. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her).

Your beloved had always had some... animalistic tendencies.

It was rather obvious to everyone that you were Walt’s favorite bride. Or, now that you were finally married, his favorite wife.

His sharp gaze had been watching you all evening. He was similar to a predator admiring a fresh kill. Despite being surrounded by an endless number of wedding guests, Walt had no intention of taking his attention away from you.

As you thanked Lucy and Viktoria for their compliments and well-wishes, a shiver traveled along your spine as Walt’s clawed fingers slowly ran along your arm. You could sense his satisfied grin when he noticed the effect he had on you.

Walt was getting restless with the desire to take you away from your demanding audience. Bringing your hand to him, he pressed your palm against his cheek before leaning into your touch. You were trying your best to keep up your conversation with your two beautiful friends, ignoring his desperate call for attention.

His lips pressed gently kisses to each of your fingertips before moving on to your palm. Continuing his affection, his kisses trailed along to the back of your hand as well. He dragged his claws up and down your arm as your hand was returned to his cheek, burrowing his nose against your flesh.

His gaze fluttered back to you. He rolled his eyes when you refused to look at him. You were always doing this sort of thing, always letting him know that he couldn’t have everything.

He was fine with your antics. It thrilled him to no end whenever he had to chase after your attention. It gave him time to worship you.

The hand that had been dragging along your arm paused on your wrist. The other splayed out your palm against his face. If sweet, doting admiration wouldn’t catch your attention, perhaps a little pain would.

You yelped as your husband tore a wound into your wrist. Lucy’s eyes widened while Viktoria could only smirk in sick amusement. Turning your attention to him, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

With his fangs buried deep within your flesh, his hooded gaze stared back at you with a certain glimmer of arrogance. You could practically hear his thoughts as he indulged himself on your metallic nectar.

Have I gotten your attention yet, my love?

You scoffed with an amused smile, shaking your head at Walt’s desperation. He closed his eyes as he continued tasting you. He roughly shoved your wrist closer to him with a tight grip.

“I think our husband wishes to leave his own reception,” smirked Viktoria, staring intently as Walt slowly pulled away.

With a wink and a knowing smile, Lucy whispered, “Have fun!”

You bid the two women farewell, watching as they disappeared into the crowd of guests. Once they were gone, your eyes drifted back to your husband.

Walt was solely focused on your wrist. His fangs had finally left your flesh. Now, his tongue ran along your skin, greedily claiming any blood he may have left behind. He glared fiercely when you attempted to pull your hand away. His grip tightened and his claws threatened to pierce your skin.

You slowly began to lean towards him. His eyes darkened and he immediately tugged at your arm to pull you closer. He made an advance towards your neck, groaning loudly when you forced him to pause in his movements.

He had been just shy of his goal. He cursed under his breath, stretching as far as he could, practically leaning over your entire body, in an attempt to reach you. You let out a quiet laugh as his sharp fangs barely grazed against your flesh. He complained once more when you finally gained enough strength to shove him away.

You ran your fingers through his dark hair in an attempt to sooth him. His eyes trailed over your figure with dark intent. He bit his lip harshly as he took you in. You looked ravishing. He met you in the middle for a soft kiss.

Placing his hand on the back of your neck, he muttered against your lips, “My love—”

“Later,” you quietly interrupted.

He groaned, hooded eyes still wandering, “Now.”

“We can’t leave yet—”

“Then perhaps I should just take you here,” he whispered, and then he grinned mischievously as a surprised gasp escaped you. “Oh? Do you like that idea? Do you wish to be fucked in front of everyone like some common whore?”

Your eyes narrowed while his smile only widened. He winked at you and flashed his fangs in an attempt to get your annoyed façade to break. All he received in return, however, was an unamused scoff, “I want a divorce.”

He chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before he muttered, “Not. Happening.”

You smiled when he brought your wrist to his lips once more. He repeatedly pressed kisses against the area where he had bitten you, effortlessly soothing your wounded skin.

“Do you really want to leave?”

He pretended to pout, though his true feelings were given away by his excited eyes, “Please?”

You sighed dramatically, which he knew meant ‘yes’ since you allowed another smile to spread across your lips. He quickly stood, gained the attention of the guests, and announced that the two of you would be retiring for the evening while Lucy and Viktoria took over as hosts.

‘Retiring’, you thought. Yeah, right.

Walt held out his arm for you to take before slowly leading you through the crowd. You smiled at those who offered another round of congratulations, feeling excitement build within you as Walt led you through the manor gardens.

His grip on you tightened. Plucking a rose, his lips pressed against yours before he placed the flower in your free hand.

Inside, the manor was dark, which was normal. Your husband preferred it so, claiming that it ‘improved the hunt’. Everyone, including the staff, were outside, leaving you alone with your eager husband.

The two of you paused in front of the grand, stone staircase. Walt circled you slowly, eyeing you up and down with darkened eyes. His pupils were blown wide. He came to a stop behind you.

His overwhelming presence sent shivers throughout your entire being. You were sure he could hear your heart pounding furiously.

His claws traced along your figure. The feeling began at your shoulders, trailed down your arms, and then finally came to a stop at your hips.

Your eyes closed. You tilted your head, allowing him access to the soft skin of your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the feeling of your husband leaning in to trace his nose along your profile. Occasionally, he’d paused to leave a kiss or two, fangs threatening to pierce you once more.

He sighed against you, digging his sharp claws into your sides, nearly breaking the skin of your hips through your clothing. His teeth ran over your ear before he paused to whisper, “Shall we play a game, my love?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure of where he was going with such a question, “What sort of game?”

He chuckled deeply, “One of predator... and prey.”

You inhaled sharply as one of his hands slowly traveled along the length of your torso. His large palm found its new home upon your throat.

“Do you know what a predator does when it captures its prey?”

“What?”

He kissed your temple gently between each of his words, “Whatever. It. Wants.”

You shuddered at his response. Slowly, his tight hold loosened. The sound of a ticking clock echoed throughout the room. His lips hovered closely over your ear. Your heart felt as though it planned to leap out of your chest.

“Run.”

You bolted, using the stone edge of the staircase to help you along. You could feel his eyes burning into you, carefully watching as you disappeared around a dark corner.

To anyone else, this would probably seem twisted. To you, however, it was exhilarating and left you quietly gasping for air with a wild grin on your face. You wandered further into the manor, deciding to leave your clicking shoes behind in an effort to throw him off.

With every shadow in the corner of your eye or each creak of the floor, you’d feel your heart race. Hand clasped over your chest, you paused at the sound of slow footsteps. You could see the light of a match approaching from the other end of the corridor. Quickly pressing yourself into a dark corner, you held your breath as he began to close in on you...

No.

No. He passed you by.

You shivered at the sight of him. He had stripped himself of his jacket and tie. His left hand was hidden within his pocket while the other held a flickering match between his fingertips. Slow, easy footsteps, almost as though he knew you had no chance.

Peeking around the corner, you watched the muscles of his back shift beneath his white shirt. You grimaced as you tripped over your feet due to the distraction, tumbling clumsily to the floor.

Walt paused. You could almost see the widening grin on his face as he contemplated your mistake. Slowly, he turned, tilted his head, and allowed his eyes to wander over your fallen figure.

He barely had time to flash his fangs at you. In seconds, you had stood and took off in the opposite direction. His sinister chuckles echoed off the walls as he quickly followed.

You rounded yet another corner and reached out for the first doorknob in sight. Closing the door, you pushed your way into the room. His room.

Of course.

His shoes tapped against the floors in the corridor, taking you out of your realization. Just as the doorknob began to rattle, you opened up his wardrobe in the corner and hid away inside.

The door shut once more. The action was then followed by the click of the lock, trapping you within the four dark walls with no one but your husband for company. Perhaps, if he was far away enough, you could make another escape.

He approached his bedside table. Knowing you had little chance of getting away, he took his time removing his watch before sliding off his shoes as well. His back was turned to you.

You tried your best to be quiet as you eased the wardrobe door open. Luck seemed to be on your side when it made little noise. The lock that had trapped you inside, however, gave you away.

The rustling of his movements stopped when he heard the click of his bedroom door. You pulled at the door to no avail. It was shoved closed once more by the force of his splayed hand. His other was tightly wrapped around your chest and shoulders, roughly pulling you against him.

He slowly turned the lock back into place. He then allowed that hand to wrap around your waist, though it felt eager to venture elsewhere.

Fangs tracing over your skin, he ran his lips from your neck to your ear before he whispered, “Caught you.”

Your head fell back against him in surprise. You couldn’t contain the sharp, startled gasp that escaped you. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his fangs sinking into your neck. Your mouth fell open in pleasure as he ravaged your soft skin.

One of his hands traveled along your body until it found itself roughly cupping your jawline. His claws nearly impaled themselves into your flesh due to his tight grip. Walt held you in place against him as he enjoyed the perfect, bittersweet taste of your blood.

You were tugged back into his dark embrace, falling further into the deep shadows of his room. He turned, shoving you onto his bed with a sinister glimmer in his eyes.

You smiled up at him, shaking your head as you balanced on one of your arms. Your free hand reached out for him, but he pushed it away with a wild grin.

His lustful eyes raked over your clothed figure. Leaning forward, he crawled upwards along the length of your body, easily making you lie on your back as he hovered above you.

His thumbs traced slow circles on your cheeks and temples. Though they still contained that same dark intent, his eyes softened slightly when they met your gaze.

He leaned into your touch as you began running your hands through his thick hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your wrist, and then quietly muttered against your skin, “May I have you?”

His eyes closed at the feeling of your thumbs gently tracing over his eyebrows. You then did the same beneath his eyes, examining every feature of him as he waited for your reply.

“Yes.”

His hand was beneath your chin in a matter of seconds. You encased his wrist tightly in one of your palms. He pushed your head back, digging his immortal bite into your neck once more. His weight was pressed against you, which allowed you to feel every crevice of his strong body.

You could feel blood cascading along your skin as he shifted his position. He lifted you just enough to move each of you further onto the bed. You reached back with one hand to tightly grip a soft pillow. The other wrapped itself within Walt’s hair as he traveled downwards.

You were forced to release him when he decided to kneel between your legs. He smirked down at you. Your body trembled as his tall, shadowy figure overwhelmed you.

Walt was thankful that you had chosen a different dress for the reception. The fabric draped perfectly over your body. He could feel you beneath the dark ensemble as his hands traced along your figure.

You watched in anticipation as his head turned to eye your ankle. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around it. You raised your eyebrows at him, though he paid you no mind as he lifted your leg until your ankle could rest against his shoulder.

Before you could react, your grip on the pillow had tightened exponentially. The other wrapped itself within the sheet. Your back arched at the feeling of his fangs sinking into the flesh of your ankle.

He groaned loudly. Wrapping his free arm around your thigh, completely encasing your limb, he forced you against him as he tightly closed his eyes. He couldn’t get enough of you. Fortunately for him, the night was only beginning.

He allowed your ankle to fall back onto the bed, swallowing deeply and running his tongue over his stained lips. He quickly shoved his hands beneath your dress, pushing the fabric upwards until he could tug it over your head.

His lips met yours in a rough kiss. As you embraced him, he used his clawed fingertips to rip open the bra that covered your breasts. He wasted no time, immediately indulging himself.

As his hand busied itself with your left breast, thumb working against your nipple, his mouth found refuge on the right. He repeatedly kissed your warm flesh. Quickly, he decided to latch onto you with his mouth, tongue swirling.

His dark hair found itself within your grip once more. You bit your lip harshly at the pleasurable feeling, unable to think properly.

But things only felt better when you realized his free hand had slowly wandered downwards. His long fingers shoved their way beneath the lace fabric that shielded your heat. He cupped your warmth, grinning against you.

“Did you wear these for me?” he muttered, not waiting for an answer as he began making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin.

“For Viktoria.”

He paused in his affection to glare up at you. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate your fine sense of humor. With an amused grin, you sharply tugged at his hair, causing him to grunt, and then continued, “Get to work, Mr. DeVille.”

He slowly shook his head, quietly scoffing at your antics. Both of his hands drifted to your hips and wrapped around the edge of the black lace. Running his tongue over his sharp teeth, he smirked, “As my mistress commands.”

Your laughter was cut off by a gasp rising in your throat. Walt turned his head from side to side, repeatedly biting along each of your thighs until he finally made his way to your center.

Over the lace fabric, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your warmth. You tugged his hair again at the feeling. Heat pooled within you as he slowly pulled away the lace. Grinning, he tossed it aside.

He swallowed deeply before delving into you. You cried out, fingers digging into his scalp. Walt paid your actions no mind. His tongue rushed across your opening, flicking your clit.

His claws dug into your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders to keep you still. It wasn’t an easy feat. Your back was arched and your mouth had fallen into a silent scream.

Walt shoved his tongue into you, feasting on your essence as though it were his last meal. His thumb joined his mouth in a perfect duet of pleasure. He roughly slapped your clit and smiled against you when another cry escaped your throat.

His pants felt tight and he moved his hips against the bed in an effort to gain some relief. Trailing kisses along your torso, he pushed his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. He stroked one of your thighs, finally lowering your legs with your knees bent as they rested on either side of his hips, encasing him against you.

He pressed his forehead to yours, but refused to kiss you despite your pleas. Instead, he watched as your face collapsed into an expression of sinful pleasure.

Your orgasm drenched his hand and he pulled his fingers out of you. You slowly opened your eyes, watching as he held his wet fingers to your lips.

“So soon? You really should clean up your mess, my love.”

He leaned in, returning his attention to your neck, biting a new wound into your flesh. The action made you gasp openly, which, in turn, allowed him to shove his soaked fingers into your mouth.

He pressed his lips against your temple, smearing fresh blood against your soft skin. He rolled his hips into you, biting his lip as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingertips, tasting yourself on him.

He groaned at the sight of you. Your bare skin was aglow beneath him. He could feel himself straining against his clothes. He focused his attention on your shoulder, sinking his teeth into you once more. You knew you’d be absolutely covered in bite marks by the time this was over.

Not that you minded, of course.

As he lost himself in you, he used his hands to bring yours to his shirt, letting you know that he wanted you to rid him of the fabric. You busied yourself with the buttons, turning your head to plant kisses against his profile.

Sensing your desires, he reluctantly pulled his attention away from your shoulder. He soothed your newest wound with his tongue, lapping at any leftover blood. His stained lips met yours just as you began pushing the white fabric off his shoulders. Walt helped with the process and tossed the shirt aside.

He rose to his knees, removing his belt. His pants quickly followed, but not without incident. You grunted when he tumbled on top of you, barely catching himself to keep from knocking the wind out of you.

“Why did you make me wear these?” he grumbled, though his grin gave his amusement away.

You giggled, trying your best to help him, “Because they looked nice.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile when you gently kissed his cheek. He then pushed himself off your body. You shifted onto your elbows, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed. Once the pants reached his ankles, he yanked them off, threw them across the room, and then grinned at you over his shoulder.

You scoffed with a teasing smile, “You’re so dramatic!”

He chuckled, “C’mere.”

You allowed him to tug at your hand. You moved on the bed to kneel behind him. He tightly clasped both of your hands and draped them over his chest, but not before pressing a kiss to each one.

He then reached and tugged at the top of his briefs. You repeatedly kissed the top of his head and temples, watching intently as the fabric disappeared from his body and joined his shirt on the floor.

He turned his head to meet your lips. His hand tightly gripped your wrist and dragged your palm downwards along his chest.

His brows furrowed. He broke your kiss with a groan, breathing heavily against you. He trembled at the feeling of your nimble fingers working the length of his thick cock. He tucked his head into your shoulder, hiding away as moans escaped him.

You pressed your lips against his temple in light kisses. You used your free hand to rake your fingers through his dark hair, gently scratching his scalp as you did so. Through his gasps and grunts of pleasure, Walt placed open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You traced your thumb over the head of his member. Beads of pre-cum made themselves known. His cock hardened further beneath your touch, if such a thing was even possible. Each stroke sent shivers along his spine and quiet murmurs tumbled from his lips against your skin.

Gently, he wrapped his hand around yours, stopping your movements. He kissed you deeply, nudging you back into your former position of lying on your back. He crawled up the expanse of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides, occasionally giving you a tight squeeze whenever he caressed your hips.

Returning his passionate affection, your arms draped over his shoulders, allowing your fingertips to trace shapes against his bare, muscular back. He sighed peacefully at the sensation.

He only broke the kiss to reach down and grab his length. Your gaze followed, hands weaving into his hair once more. He wasted no time in pressing the head of his cock against your slick folds.

Your grip on him tightened and your head fell backwards. He took the opportunity to lean his slack-jawed face against your neck, breathing against you heavily.

He was so big inside you. And no matter how many times you had taken him in the past, his cock always left you stunned at its size. Tugging at your ear with his teeth, he breathed, “So sweet for me.”

“Walt,” you sighed, “please—! Oh!”

His hips dug into you repeatedly and he grunted loudly with each thrust. You could hardly breathe as he pounded into you.

As you tightened your grip on him, pulling him closer by his hair, he sank his sharp fangs into you once more with a quiet apology, “Sorry, my love. Your taste is impossible to resist.”

“It feels good.”

Your murmured response made him groan against you. As he indulged himself on you, his thrusts sped up. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out in pleasure with every hard thrust of his cock.

The sound of skin against skin echoed throughout the room. Walt hissed and growled as your blood flowed into his throat. It was almost as though your taste would be his last meal.

He shoved his arms beneath you and pulled you flush against his bare flesh. Hunched over your body, he moved at an inhuman pace, reminding you of what he truly was.

You placed your hand against his throat. With blood on his lips, he bared his fangs with a grimace. You pulled him into a deep kiss as warmth grew within you.

Eventually, he couldn’t keep up with your affection. He pulled away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. He panted as his thrusts became uneven. Moving one hand to your center, he stroked your clit.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth with a pleasured moan. His pace faltered as his climax drew closer. His skin was glowing with sweat as his hips stuttered.

“Cum with me, my love,” he panted. “Let go.”

As his hand continued its ministrations against your clit, the other quickly wrapped around your throat. You followed his movements, placing your own hands atop his, which was sure to leave your neck bruised the next morning.

“Walt...”

He silenced you with a kiss. You could feel his cock inside you, pulsing and writhing with the need for a release. The thought of him gaining pleasure from you struck a chord within you.

Your back arched, pressing your front against his. Walt didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he tightened his hold on you and tugged you impossibly close. Your hands shot around his shoulders. One dug into his strong back while the other yanked at his hair as the two of you rocked back and forth against the bedspread.

A wave of pleasure washed over you. Another orgasm overwhelmed your body. Walt’s thrusts stuttered, trying to bring himself to completion. He continued rubbing your bundle of nerves. Your body writhed with overstimulation until he joined you in ecstasy.

With a final grunt, his hips landed against yours. He shuddered, mouth agape, as he climaxed. His weight all but collapsed on top of you. When he pulled out, you could feel his release venturing out of you.

He collapsed next to you. Both of you struggled for breath. Walt reached out to gently caress your skin. His skin was aglow. Grasping your hand, he kissed each of your fingertips gently.

You could feel tiredness taking over your body. Walt smiled at you with soft eyes. Tugging you close to him, he muttered, “Sleep, my love. I’ll wake you in the morning for more.”

“That wasn’t enough?”

He chuckled deeply, “Never.”

#2022 #honeymoon #the invitation #the invitation imagine #the invitation imagines #the invitation x reader #walt de ville imagine #walt de ville imagines #walt de ville x reader #walter de ville imagine #walter de ville imagines #walter de ville x reader #walt deville imagine #walt deville imagines #walt deville x reader #walter deville imagine #walter deville imagines #walter deville x reader

2K notes · View notes

eyesthecolorofarson · 1 year

Text

Two Weirdos Pt.2

A small scenario for these two lovebirds🖤💚🤍

————

He was watching him again

It was comforting, in a way, knowing he was never alone. Always having someone by his side. It was nice.

He felt him move closer. He wondered if he liked drawing. Would he like what he was drawing right now?

Damian didn’t stop drawing, the pencil scraping against paper the only sound. Well, now that he listened, he could actually hear him softly singing. It was cute. He had a lovely voice.

'☾@η∂¥ ḉꪮʟꪮяε∂ ḉʟꪮʊ∂ş, ʟ��ḟ⊥ ღε ḟяꪮღ ⊥нε ɠяꪮʊη∂

∀η∂ ḉ@яя¥ ღε @ẘ@¥~'

He was right behind him, looking over his shoulder

'Ħḯɠн ʊ℘ ḯη ⊥нε şḱ¥,

Ꮥḯ⊥ş @ ḱḯηɠ∂ꪮღ ⊥н@⊥ ℐ

Ħ@ṽε яʊʟε∂ ꪮṽεя ḟꪮя ∂εḉ@∂εş'

Arms wrapped around him, his head resting on his shoulder

'฿ʊ⊥ яεḉεη⊥ʟ¥ ḯ'ṽε♭εεη

Ꮥꪮ

Ḻꪮηʟε¥'

Damian leaned back into him and listened

'ℐ ηεε∂ şꪮღεꪮηε ⊥ꪮ

ℝʊʟε

฿εşḯ∂ε ღε

Шḯʟʟ ¥ꪮʊ ♭ε ღ¥ ḱḯηɠ?

Ꭷя ⓠʊεεη

ℐ⊥ ∂ꪮşεη⊥ яε@ʟʟ¥ ღ@⊥⊥εя ⊥ꪮ ღε

∀ş ʟꪮηɠ @ş ¥ꪮʊ şẘε@я

✞н@⊥ ¥ꪮʊ'ʟʟ @ʟẘ@¥ş

Ꮥ⊥@¥♭εşḯ∂ε ღε

@η∂ ʟꪮṽε ღε ʟḯḱε ℐ ʟꪮṽε ¥ꪮʊ~'

Oh, how wonderful. It was obviously a proposal, he was obviously asking for his hand in marriage. And how could he refuse?

'ℐη ꪮʊя ḉ@η∂¥ ḉꪮʟꪮяε∂ ḉ@ş⊥ʟε

ℐ⊥'ʟʟ ḟεεʟ ʟḯḱε @ ∂яε@ღ

Ꮥḯ⊥⊥ḯηɠ ♭εşḯ∂ε ღε

@ş ʟꪮηɠ @ş ¥ꪮʊ şẘε@я

✞н@⊥ ¥ꪮʊ'ʟʟ @ʟẘ@¥ş

Ḻꪮṽε ღε ʟḯḱε ℐ ʟꪮṽε ¥ꪮʊ~'

Damian had to see him. He had to. He'd waited so, so long, dreaming day and night about his beloved. And now with this proposal he felt it was finally time. He turned his head—

And oh

He was breathtaking

Whispy white hair that danced as if underwater, light mint skin with slightly pointed ears and green dying stars for eyes, he was everything Damian ever wanted and more. Even his freckels were perfect, taking the shape of constellations.

He had to have him. He had to have him Now

Damian reached for him—

And flipped him over onto his lap.

He made as small 'eep' sound that made Damians chuckle. "Don't be embarrassed, my love. I should be, after that wonderful song. Did you write it yourself? You very talented."

His future husband blushed a beautiful dark green that made his freckles stand out, and then he smiled so wide Damian worried it hurt. It also showed him his fangs, which immediately gave him a new petname.

"You liked it!?" he asked, leaning up and wrapping his arms around him. Damian smiled and kissed his head which was so amazing and he NEEDED to do it again and again and again until he kissed every part of him

"I loved it. You want to be wed, yes?" Oh, he looked so happy. It was so cute, so lovely, so perfect.

He giggled and swooned, kissing his cheek and giggling again as he snuggled into him. Snuggling! Into him! Damian could die right now and he wouldn't care. He buried his face into his hair. He smelled like citrus and ozone.

"Oh yes! I've dreamed about it since I met you. Who do you want as your best man? What type of flowers do you like? A season you prefer? A place? Religion?"

He chuckled again. "Slowly, kitten." Damian liked that petname. It appeared his beloved did too. "I didnt plan our first date just for us to jump to the wedding. I dont even know your name."

His beloved smiled dreamily.

"My name is Danny. Danny Phantom."

#dead serious #damian x danny #Two Weirdos au #ghost king danny #damian al ghul #danny phantom #danny phantom au #yandere damian wayne #yandere danny phantom #two bros cuddling on the ghost kings throne #Smooching cuz thier supper gay(for eachother)

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lanas-delight · 5 months

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invisible string

♫ rec: invisible string by taylor swift

✰ an enhypen scenario || fem!reader x sunghoon, feat. made up friends & the members

✰ description — you always believed in luck over fate—until you met him.

✰ warnings — some language, some angst, but mainly just teeth-rotting fluff

✰ notes — inspired by invisible string by taylor swift (yes i listen to taylor swift). anyways, enjoy!!

Luck was what you believed in—not fate. You would call it dumb luck, not “meant to be.” Your parents met by luck, a sweet story how one only met the other because they were lucky enough to miss their train and meet their soulmate while waiting for the next one. It was luck, and you were sure of it. Your parents always said that the saying about things only happen for a reason was wrong, that if you’re lucky, you’ll be just fine. You thought it wasn’t all that fair, but who were you to judge?

You made every decision with perfect judgment, never acted impulsively unless it was just to buy a snack instead of saving money, but you were careful, cautious so you wouldn’t have to use luck. You would just have to be patient.

You never dated, it was something that you didn’t think about much. Your friends were all dating, one was even engaged, and you were the maid of honor, but you didn’t have a date. You had no “dance partner,” she called it. Your best friend, the bride, then said your date could be the best man. You were skeptical, but to please her, you agreed.

You planned to meet him at the nearest diner, maybe food would calm your nerves. Though, you hadn’t seen what he looked like, you just knew his last name. Not his first, just his last. Not even the bride knew her future husband’s best friend at all. What were you to do? Sit alone with a sign that has his last name written in bold on it, hoping he’ll walk right over—like that isn’t crazy and stalker-like.

You were told he was “a bit of egotistical asshole,” which didn’t help your worries at all, but you were just desperate to be alone at your best friend’s wedding. It was stupid, and you felt stupid, but however this “cold-hearted player” guy (you were told a LOT of things about him except his name..) may be like, you were just hoping he wasn’t that way to you.

There, at the diner, you went in and waited, ordering a cup of tea to keep you company while you waited, and waited. It was to the point you sat there, reading a book tediously, about to give up. Your tea was just about gone and the waitress was bringing another cup to you.

“What are you reading?”

A voice rang out in front of you, one that sounded like honey, but was deep like a melancholic poem. Mist on a summer’s evening, a gentle breeze in the spring. You looked up, and met eyes with a tall, dark-haired boy with a lazy smile on his face, his teeth barely showing between his lips—it was quick to notice that he had fangs, not like a vampire, though. His skin wasn’t as pale as everyone else’s in the diner, he looked active and that he loved the outdoors. He had bigger hands, long fingers and red knuckles, maybe he did pottery or worked some construction before. He had on a loose, white long-sleeve shirt and black pants, like he had just left church. A lot of assumptions, but that’s what you did best. You were sure you’d be lucky enough to be right on most of them.

“Oh, uhm,” you placed your thumb in between the pages of the book, closing it to show him the cover, “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo,” you answered, “my friend suggested it to me.”

His face lights up a bit, and he gestures to the seat ahead of you. You nod after a moment, so he sits and smiles, “I just finished it the other week, how do you think of it so far?” You wondered if he was gay for a second, but you shrugged it off.

“I really like it,” you smiled, “I worried it wouldn’t be all that great, despite all of it’s overwhelming great reviews, but I really like it so far.”

He nodded, “It’s great, yeah,” he looks at the book, “What chapter are you on?”

“Three. I just started this morning,” you lightly rubbed your thumb on the paperback cover. You thinned your lips, “Did you sit here just to talk about the book?—Not that I have a problem with that,” you chuckled nervously.

He shrugged, “Yes and no,” he twiddled his fingers some on the table, “That, and well, I thought you were really pretty,”

Your eyebrows lifted a little, “You think I’m pretty?” He looked up at you, almost offended at first.

“‘Course I do,” he smiled, “Do you think you’re pretty?”

“You’re a flirt,” you ignored his question, scoffing, but he continued to smile. He had a nice smile.

“Only with pretty girls,”

“There’s plenty of those,”

“Well only you caught my eye,” he admired your face, “I’m not too good with flirting, but I’m flattered you see how I talk as flirting.”

You rolled your eyes, “How is that a compliment?”

He shrugged, “You think I have game,”

“Wow,” You laughed, “You’re confident,”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I’m just myself.” He reached his hand across the table, open for a hand shake, which you obliged.

Your eyes were stuck on him like glue, “I’m Y/N,” you say, and his eyes light up a little, like there was beauty to your name and it sang with harmony in his ears. “And you are?”

“Sunghoon,” he kept your hand in his for a second more, then he glanced around, “You wanna get out of here?”

But you halted, “Oh, I’m actually—” you checked the time on your phone, it had been well over an hour since you were supposed to meet that other guy so there was nothing better to do. “Yeah,” you nodded your head, “I’d like that.” And he smiled.

“You’re crazy,”

“Am I?” He was holding your hand, but that’s not what you were calling him crazy for. Instead, it was for how he was wanting to try this kind of rice a couple blocks away from the diner you two had met at, dragging you all the way there with his hand tied to yours. Experimental—you never liked to try new things, but for some reason, you felt at ease with him. Like the world was floating, yet you kept in control of it. It felt so normal, not like you had just met him 30 minutes ago.

“Yeah, I would think so,” you both stopped in front of the food stand, waiting in a short line. The stand looked familiar, you were sure you’ve seen it before somehow. “You made me walk three blocks just to get rice? I don’t—”

“Shh,” he shushed you, “You’ll understand why,” almost implying he’s tried this rice before, but once it was your turn, he ordered for you, paid, and sat down with you at the nearest bench. Shoulder to shoulder, he handed you chopsticks and you both shared the bowl of rice, “I need a full evaluation afterwards,” he says, covering his mouth, it was full of rice.

You took your first bite, humming, then nodding. “Oh my god,” you say, “this is amazing,”

“Right?” Sunghoon laughed, his eyes crinkling a little, “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you took another bite, “thank you.”

“For . . . ?” He looked a little surprised, which confused you mostly so you repeated yourself.

“Thank you,” you say again, “for all of this.”

Sunghoon smiled. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, “It’s not the end.”

You furrowed your brows, “End of what?”

“Our first date,” he answers confidently, “I have somewhere else to take you next,”

But you were appalled, “First date? I never said yes to a date?”

“Do you not want this to be a date?” He takes another bite, “Hm?” He tilted his head some, your eyes meeting with his. They were a dark chocolate color, warm and deep, you could drown in them and be just fine never coming back up for air.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” you grinned, take another bite. He was gazing at you, lovestruck but he didn’t know he loved you, but he was sure he would. You were starting to think that way, too.

After the rice, he took you to this aquarium, paid for you and joked when he asked you to pay him back. You actually planned to, but knew he wouldn’t accept it. He was a gentleman, a kind one that had a smile to warm, you would be just fine on a freezing, winter day. You had never loved anyone before, but you were starting to think that maybe this could be the beginning. You’ve told him stories, he’s told you some. You had completely forgotten about that best man you were supposed to meet, but that didn’t matter anymore.

Because you had met him.

For the next few weeks, you and Sunghoon went on a good handful of dates, all around the city, alone and not a word spoken to anyone about them so it would be more intimate, only about you both and no one else. You were getting to know each other, not exactly official but not looking anywhere else either.

Everything felt so right. He would tell you about places you always went to, and you would do the same for him. It felt that that any of those times, you could’ve met him, like you were both parallel lines that finally joined together to form a heart.

You had told him before on one of the dates, how much you valued luck and chance, rather than what was meant to be or not to be. He was the opposite—he believed in soulmates and what the universe may give you. He had a good argument, but so did you, though it wasn’t a dealbreaker or anything. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend, but he referred to you as his girl often.

However, there was one date you would have to wait to have as the wedding was the following day and you were talking with your best friend, trying to calm her nerves for her big day. You hadn’t told her about him yet, but you were sad because he had other (pre-you) plans that next day so he couldn’t be your date either.

“You’ll do just fine, F/N,” you tell her reassuringly, “Jay’s not going to care if your hair’s not absolutely perfect.”

“You don’t know that!” She exclaims, sitting down on the couch across from you.

You stared, “Well do you know that?”

She covered her face, “No, but”

“F/N, he’s universally in love with you. There is nothing that can keep that man from marrying you tomorrow,” you tell her, though she still shakes with anxiety. She pushes her hair back a little as she leans back up. “Besides, you’ll look amazing no matter what. He’d marry you in a trash bag.”

She laughed, “God, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m stressing so much about this.” She pulls her hair back into a loose ponytail, “You sure you’re okay with no date tomorrow?”

You shrugged, “I guess I have to be. He never showed up at the diner so I guess I’ll just have to hook arms with the best man, ignore the elephant in the room, and then die alone.”

“You’re not going to die alone,” she tells you, “Maybe he forgot or something,”

“Didn’t you say he was a douche anyways? A player? Maybe I dodged a bullet,” you sat back in your chair.

“I know. But don’t worry, tomorrow will be just fine, yeah?” She smiles, but you click your tongue.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe I should take your job!”

“Oh whatever,” you sigh, “Everything will be just fine. Don’t you worry, okay?” And she nodded before both of you headed to bed, anticipating the next day where one of you will be married and the other, alone.

The next day, everyone was already starting to gather around, taking their seats. Your best friend always wanted a beach wedding, so there it was, an arch covered in vines and white roses at the end of an aisle between rows of white chairs. It was beautiful, little white rose pedals spread on the sand, leading up to where the groom stood.

You were in the dressing room with your best friend, already dressed as you helped her finish up getting ready. You had just sent a text to Sunghoon about your day, which he replied and said he hoped he could’ve been there, too. You were a bit sad, but you didn’t let it bother you all that much. It wasn’t your wedding day, after all.

Once it was time for the ceremony, you held your hands together in front of you nervously, waiting at the front of a line coming from the right, while the line coming the left was the groomsmen, where the best man was nowhere to be seen. You honestly hoped he wouldn’t show, just in case you wanted to beat his ass if you saw him, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the following moments. The flower girls, your best friend’s neices, got in front of you and the best man who had just appeared, but you paid no attention and stared forward, waiting for it all to start.

A light melody begins to echo with the wind from the piano. You reach your elbow out, waiting for the best man to hook his arm with yours, but familiarity struck once he did. You looked over, just as the flower girls started to go down the aisle, and you saw him. You saw Sunghoon, the previously labeled “cold-hearted player” that was so egotistical, you’d want to rip your hair out. He was the douchebag, and you couldn’t believe it.

“Sunghoon?” You whispered, just as both of you started to walk down the aisle together slowly. He looked over at you, then blinked a couple times.

“Y/N? You’re— You’re the maid of honor.” An obvious observation, but he was in shock, honestly.

“What’s your last name?”

“What?”

“Last name.”

“Park.”

Oh fuck.

“You’re the best man that stood me up.”

“Stood you up—” He scoffed in disbelief, “I met with you, didn’t I?”

You shook your head, “You didn’t tell me.”

Sunghoon knitted his brows together, “I didn’t know? And you didn’t tell me either,” he remarks, all of the conversation being in a whisper as you both made it down the aisle. At the end, you two parted ways and went to the opposite sides of the altar. The other groomsmen and bridemaids all follow suite and the ceremony begins with the bride walkong down the aisle, the light melody transitions into the wedding march as all rose from their seats and watched her approach her soon-to-be husband at the altar.

It was beautiful, each vow perfectly written and spoken to one another, and there, the couple were married and everyone cheered and clapped.

It was wonderful, but your mind was elsewhere. All you have come to know about Sunghoon, could have just as easily been a lie—egotistical, asshole, cold-hearted, player—was any of it true at all?

After the ceremony and into the reception, Sunghoon tried to talk to you a few times, but ultimately stopped when you ignored him every time and gave all of your attention to your busy friend, who was the happiest girl in the room.

You didn’t want to talk to Sunghoon. You didn’t want to look at him, or even think of him at all. You had no idea what to think of everything now. Was he really like that? Even his best friend said that stuff . . . You really hoped this was your happy ending, but maybe your luck just ran out.

It had been two weeks since the wedding. Your best friend and her new husband had gone off to their honeymoon, so you basically worked, went home and slept, then went back to work the next day. You made sure there was no chance you could see Sunghoon—ever. You didn’t hate him, moreso that you couldn’t, because there was something inside your heart that didn’t want you to hate him.

It was late, it was just a Thursday after work where you stuck overtime for the past four hours. It didn’t help that it had started raining heavily on your drive home. You pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, then searched frantically for a jacket or an umbrella, but found nothing to your surprise. You were normally prepared for stuff like this, but it had slipped your mind that you had taken in your umbrella the other day, forgot it on the dinner table, and your jacket was probably sitting in the dryer. Sunghoon would’ve reminded you to grab them. He always watches the weather. He’d know. You huffed and got out of your car quickly, trying to rush in before you got soaked, but just as you got out of the car and shut the door, there he was, standing there like some dramatic movie scene.

“What the hell are you doing?” You call out to him, “You’re going to get sick, you’re not even wearing a jacket!”

“You aren’t either!” He called back out to you, the rain growing harder and harder. “Y/N, listen to me okay? I—”

“No, no I don’t want to hear your excuses,”

“I don’t have excuses,” Sunghoon stated out, “I don’t have anything to say that would ever excuse my mistakes, but that’s the past. I’ve changed, and I don’t want to be that version of myself ever again.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re insane.”

He shockingly smiled, “Insane, crazy, stupid—you can call me whatever you want, Y/N, but I’m never going to stop feeling the way I do about you.” A strong declaration, but that wasn’t as surprising as the words he spoke to you then.

“How—” you hitched your breath as you shook your head, “How am I supposed to believe that all the things they said aren’t true? That you were ‘such a player that you couldn’t find it in your cold heart to even care that you hurt them?’ How can I be sure you won’t do the same for me?”

Sunghoon stared into your eyes, distant but still warm. His heart couldn’t have ever been cold. None of it made any sense. God, the things your best friend and her husband keep running around your mind like a racecar track.

“Because I won’t. I haven’t done any of that in years. In high school, and college, I was an asshole and was convinced I was supposed to be the bad boy everyone’s scared of. I let them be scared of me because I thought no one could ever love me, and when someone did, I ran.” Sunghoon stepped towards you on the pavement, his hair wet and his clothes soaked. His face was flushed with pink, a gentleness in his eyes that only you could ever recognize. It was him. “You don’t have to forgive me, but I will do everything in my power to make up for it all.”

“Sunghoon . . .” You tried not to cry, “Our luck has run out,” you told him, but he wouldn’t hear you. He stepped even closer, standing right before you now, close enough to feel some rain droplets bounce off of him and onto you.

“No, there’s no luck, there’s no fate,” he tells you firmly, “All I know is that I’m falling in love with you, Y/N, and I’m willing to do anything for you.”

You felt the same way he did. Of course you did. There was no part of you that could ever hate him. You wanted him, and absolutely no one else. You didn’t care if you both died tomorrow, as long as you had him, you were just fine. You were more than fine. You were perfect, because of him.

You gave him a soft smile, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

And he gave you this . . . smile.

It was that type of smile that warms your heart and eases your worries. it was one that you could never forget, one that will save you from your darkest nights, one that can heal your wounds and pain with just a glance. Your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't even get a decent breath. Your head was full of thoughts burning with anticipation as he slowly leaned in closer to you. Heat rose from your stomach to your chest and your heart definitely skipped a beat as you felt his breath on your cheeks. You watched his eyes flutter as he started to close in. That was it — at that very moment his lips brushed over yours like a wave of warmth and all of your body reacted to him instinctively. You raised your hands to his face, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, but it was gentle, passionate, full of love. Time seemed to have just come to a great pause as we kissed. The taste of his lips silenced your thoughts.

The rain was so cold against your skin, but it didn’t bother you one bit. It didn’t seem to bother him much either. His hands went limp on your waist, but you lowered your hand and took one of his into your own, holding him close to you as your lips moved against each other. His other hand lightly pulled onto your shirt, but you tilted your head slowly and touched your lips to his for a second time, very carefully and gently as if you didn't want to break him with a single touch. The kisses began to slow after a short time, becoming tender and infinitely more. It was like you were growing more intimate. It was so easy to get lost in him, lost in his connection between the both of you.

Before, on those dates or whatever they were, you both were just friends. Friends who stared at each other a second too long. But as of this very moment, with your lips kissing his, he was no longer just your friend. Instead, he was now a lover. Your lover. He was your soulmate, as you were his.

You pulled away and stared into his eyes, and he just smiled at you, “Come on,” he whispered to you, “let’s get out of this rain,” and as you giggled, you both headed inside and out of the rain together.

The wedding was set for the spring. It had been a couple years since your best friend’s wedding and the whole declaration-turned-kiss-in-the-rain moment, and you couldn’t be happier. You had (mostly) everything finished for the wedding, even though it was in a couple months and you had plenty of time to add or change stuff.

Sunghoon helped as much as he could, though he knew how much you wanted to plan it so he would only offer his opinion when you asked. It was your day, he would say, but you would always tell him it was his day, too.

You still believed in luck, and he still believed in fate. You felt you were lucky to meet him, and he felt that it was always meant to happen anyways. You didn’t agree out loud, but you knew he was right (you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right). Because whether it was luck or fate, it was always him. It was always him you were going to love forever. And with that, you knew.

You were going to be just fine.

—————————————————————————

a/n — OKAY IM DONE W WEDDING STUFF the next fic will be something wayyyy different (itll probably be angst lolz) but NOT ABT A WEDDING. anyways, i hope u all enjoyed <3333

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disillusioneddanny · 1 year

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Eloped in Space Part Four

Dick Grayson had never felt so utterly betrayed in his entire life. Bruce? Married? And he didn’t even tell Dick? He wasn’t even invited to the wedding! How could his adoptive father do this to him? And that had to be a typo, maybe the twink was 20 but–what was better? His father marrying someone who was 200 hundred years old or someone who was 20 years old? He had kids older than 20! It would be so fucking weird for Bruce to marry someone so young.

It was also, unfortunately, something he could one hundred percent see his father doing. Regardless, the vigilante had made the trip from Bludhaven to see the twink and see what the actual fuck was wrong with Bruce.

“What do you think is going on?” Jason asked, falling into step with his older brother as they started towards the manor door.

“No clue. I’m more confused than anything,” Dick admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Jason frowned but nodded in agreement. Alfred opened the door for them, his face pale white.

“Alfie? Are you okay?” Jason asked, brow furrowed.

“Apologies, Master Jason. I think that I may still be in shock,” he murmured, stepping back to let the boys in. “Everyone is in the sitting room already.”

“So, he’s actually married?” Dick asked, eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

Alfred nodded. “Yes, Master Daniel is quite an interesting being, I must say. But, I have never seen Master Bruce as happy as he is right now. Not even when he was a child, it’s odd.”

“Daniel?” Jason asked.

“He prefers to go by Danny,” Steph said, coming out of the sitting room, a wide grin on her face. “He’s amazing and I love him so much. Damian has stabbed him at least five times and Danny hasn’t even blinked!”

“What?”

“I think it’s a game now. He keeps speaking to Danny in different languages and is getting angrier and angrier every time Danny responds. Honestly, this is the best thing Bruce has ever done.”

Dick and Jason shared a confused look before following the girl into the sitting room where the rest of their family was waiting. On a large couch sat Bruce and a young man who looked no older than 25 sat together, Bruce had his arm wrapped around the man’s waist, a fond smile on his face. Danny was currently waving his arms wildly as he told a story to his captive audience.

“Anyway, and that was the day I learned that I am faster than the Flash and I just think that this is impressive,” Danny said with a grin. Bruce just let out a fond chuckle before he glanced up at the brothers.

“Darling,” he murmured, tugging on his ear lightly. “Everyone is here now.”

Danny looked away from the bats and grinned at Dick and Jason. He quickly stood and bound towards the brothers. “Richard! Jason!” He exclaimed before he stopped in his steps. “Oh Moonbeam, you’re right. Jason is very contaminated, we’ll have to fix that,” he said before his eyes flashed a familiar Lazarus green. Jason immediately took a step back from the man and shot Bruce a startled look.

“What the fuck? You talked about us to some stranger?”

Danny pouted. “No, he barely said anything except the bare bones explantations. But, I do know that you reek of contaminated ectoplasm which makes sense if you took a dip in what my Starlight calls Lazarus Waters,” Danny said, tilting his head to the side as he observed the vigilante with those frightening green eyes. “Anywho, Richard Grayson, also goes by Dick, detective by day Nightwing by night. Avid lover of puns and former gymnast. It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a small smile, two little fangs sticking past his lip. He then looked at Jason. “Jason Todd-Wayne. Died and came back to life, former crime lord, current Red Hood. Interesting fascination with guns that has Bruce slightly concerned. It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Bruce’s husband, Danny. You guys can call me Danny or if you feel so inclined, call me Dad. I don’t care,” he said with a grin before he pulled the two into tight hugs.

He skipped back to Bruce and slipped his hand back into his husbands and leaned in close. Bruce just gave the man a dazzling smile before he looked at his children and pseudo children. “I know that you all must have a lot of questions. This is a rather big change, so Danny and I will do our best to answer them to the best of our ability.”

“How did you meet Danny?” Steph asked, practically frothing at the mouth at the couple. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had never seen Bruce so happy, so soft! He was like a different person.

Danny smiled and shrugged. “I needed some help investigating some pools of ectoplasmic waste that had made it into these realms and Bruce was apparently the only Justice Leaguer who was insanely knowledgeable on them. He kept calling them Lazarus Waters though and I was so confused,” he said with a laugh.

“Wait-what did you want with the waters?” Jason asked, brow furrowed.

At this Danny’s smile widened even further, looking just a little less human. He looked at Bruce. “Should I show them?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Darling, our family is made up of detectives. If you don’t, they’ll just start investigating you,” he said with a mirthful smile.

Danny nodded and two large rings of light surrounded Danny before he shifted into a new form. Gone was the gangly twenty something year old and his place sat a large, looming being. Danny’s hair turned stark white, his fangs elongated, eyes shone Lazarus green. He was the definition of eldritch horror with his too long claws and green skin. He was a nightmare.

“Holy fuck,” Jason whispered, eyes landing on the crown with blue flames that licked up in the air. His knees nearly buckled beneath him as he stared at the being, something in his very soul telling him to bow. It took everything in his being to not do so.

“This is High King Phantom, king of the Infinite Realms and ruler of the dead,” Bruce said with a smug smile. “And my husband.”

“Danny, you’re too bright,” Duke whined, covering his eyes from the bright green glow that emitted from Danny’s form. Danny let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly shifted back into his human form and ran over to Duke.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I’ll try not to do that again, I can’t promise anything but I’ll figure out a way to turn down the brightness!” He exclaimed, hands hovering over Duke as though he didn’t know what to do.

Duke gave him an awkward smile. “It’s okay, really,” he said. “I’ll just make sure to wear sunglasses or something next time.”

Danny grinned and nodded before patting Duke’s head and sat next to Bruce once more. “Anyway, as the High King, my job is to investigate any and all issues that have to do with the Infinite Realms. One of those realms is the Ghost Zone where there is this substance called ectoplasm. It’s supposed to look like this,” he said before letting the ectoplasm pool in his hand. “It’s what flows in my veins as well as most ecto-entities. It’s not supposed to exist in this universe. When I learned of the Lazarus Waters and realized that they were giant pools of contaminated ectoplasm I realized that I needed to shut it down and fast. I knew that this dimension had the Justice League as like earth’s mightiest heroes or something like that so I went to them to learn about what they knew of the waters. So with the help of Bruce, we went on a mission to get rid of them completely.”

“The Lazarus Waters are gone?” Damian blurted out, surprise etched into his face.

Danny smiled. “No one is allowed immortality without permission from me. Not only that, but that is not how ectoplasm is meant to be used,” he said with a shrug. “So yes, they’re gone.”

“How did Ra’s react?” Tim asked with a frown. Danny frowned and looked to Bruce in confusion.

The vigilante chuckled. “He was beyond livid. Tried to kill Danny and even attempted to use some spell to force Danny into his slave,” he said.

“Oh! Stinky guy? Yeah, he’s dead,” Danny said with a grin. “Dead and in Walker’s prison for the rest of eternity.”

“What happened to Bruce’s no killing rule?” Dick asked, frowning.

At this Bruce’s face fell, turning into an annoyed scowl. “Trust me,” Danny said with a laugh. “We had a very long talk afterwards that killing is bad and then I told him that as the king of the dead I can decide who enters my realm whenever I want. I’m what you humans call a God,” he said with a sharp grin. “As much as I love my sweet Sunbeam, he cannot stop me from deciding who lives and who dies.”

@mynameisnotlaura @neverlandingbird @angelheartgamer @connorsbonez @quietlyscared @kgne-k @namichanth @magificence12 @alinmenttreasure @phantomskeep @themirrorghost @dragonmoon2995 @numbuh-7-knd @blacksea21090 @blankliferain @avenInfear @rentatsunagi @bytheoldwillowtree @michikoy-yuki @aro-acedumbass @legowerewolf @justwannaseesomebrozawa @starscreamlover @undead-essence @skulld3mort-1fan @random-shit-writing @yinari-uchiha @dragongoblet @lesling123 @ascetic-orange @pastalavistamf @illusionwolfwriter24r8 @drowningroane @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @daemonlogical @jogjosmowwdkfs @markus209 @fox-sama97 @that-one-goblin @immakittybear @the-legal-shipper @blackstar-gazer @spoopyspoony @mj-arts-n-stuff @cloudminder

#dc x dp #danny fenton #bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne x Danny Fenton #dead bat #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #Danny Phantom #Batman #Eldritch Danny Fenton #eloped in space #dis writes #pop writes

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kingsandbastardz · 4 months

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fic prompt: hair combing in the wedding chamber

01 li lianhua

the existence of a torture chamber beside the wedding bedroom and its contents shouldn’t be a surprise at this point. and yet… it’s the redundancy you find offensive. she has a multi-chamber dungeon. she has a water chamber in her own quarters. why must it extend here as well? you despise the sight of unmarked bottles sitting ominously on a small table beside a decorative chair. they’re placed in front of an x-shaped rack fitted with iron ankle and wrist cuffs. there are hooks freshly installed in the ceiling.

you hear rattling and di feisheng is beside you, his expression neither upset nor surprised. just blankly contemplative. he kicks lightly at a thick gauge iron chain on the floor comb in hand and his hair thrown over one shoulder. he looks around the room, eyes unfocused -- you’re not sure he’s actually seeing anything -- the snapping sounds as he rips the comb through a knot in his hair grates against your nerves.

you don’t want to be here anymore than you want him here – so you hold your hand out in front of his face and say, “give me that. i can’t stand watching you – do you want to go bald?”

it is a moment too long before he finally looks at you and the comb is deposited silently in your hand. you lead him to the table in the bedroom. on the way, you spot his hair ornament on a shelf and grab it.

at least while sitting, he’s tall enough that combing his hair is an intimacy that is easy on the arms. you’ve done this for a handful of others. your shiniang, your past lovers. your once-brother. now it is di feisheng’s still-damp hair you run your fingers and a comb through. silkier than zhan yunfei’s, more voluminous than qiao wanmian’s. its weight sits in your hand and tangles your fingers with the same tenacity of a spider’s web.

the knots cling, every bit as stubborn as their owner. was he born like this? or was this a learned trait? has he ever regretted a decision?

this man has followed you across the world – with or without his memories, every bit as dogged and loyal as fang duobing. ever single-minded in purpose. the affection he makes you feel has always been uncontrollable. you want to resent him as much as you feel fondness, but in the end, the fondness always wins out.

you tie his hair back and lock the familiar silver ornament in place, sliding the pin through the knot. (you bought this for him. with your own money, even, and not xiaobao’s.)

he twists around to look up at you – eyes open and clear in a way no one with his personal history should be able to. you’ve never once felt this unburdened. years ago, you and lao di were both in the middle of puberty, youths, barely old enough or tall enough to count as adults. he looked up at you back then, in the same way, as you looked down from the trees. he never had to say or do anything to capture your attention. he just gazed straight into you, soft, open, and entirely receptive to anything you wanted to throw at him.

what else could you do?

you hit him with your very best.

xiaobao understands you like no one else. but this one – this one never cared about any of the things the world wanted from you. he didn’t see the future. he didn’t see potential. he didn’t see the power you wielded for the benefit of everyone. he saw only the you that stood in front of him. nothing more, nothing less.

and now? you know what he wants because you want it too. even now, there are moments you can hear the clang of sword, smell the burn of sparked sword oil, feel the heady rush of bloodlust. you crave the razor-sharp clarity that overtakes you as you take flight and know the man following you will be able to keep pace no matter where you go and what you do. you can let go. you don’t have to hold back anymore.

he sees you the way no one else does and you want him to see you that way again. you want to see him on the other side of your crossed blades and to find your steps again in the sky unburdened by lies or death. you want the life you could have had together.

there was a time, you could have dreamed of fighting together. eating together. watching as his hair turned white to match yours.

but you can’t. you only have memories left of that old you and the bitter flavor of passed time.

if only you had met again 10 years ago. or even 5 years ago, once your rage had burnt its way out of your heart and bones.

you can’t afford to want what di feisheng wants. (but you do. you want it. it burns worse than poison.)

tonight.

tonight, under the influence of good wine and the warmth of shared smiles, you will pretend you have the luxury of health and time.

tonight, you will pretend you are living the life you should have – a life free of shan gudao's shadow and without regrets.

02 di feisheng

you are tortured your whole life and for a moment, you actually die; but you are alive now and stronger than ever. you drink wine with a loved one and he smiles in shared understanding (finally, after all these years. you’ve waited for him.)

the suffering was worth it if that is what brings you both to this moment.

under the moon’s blessing, you smile back and for the first time in your life, you hope for the future.

#writing practice for fake royals #li lianhua #di feisheng #mysterious lotus casebook #prompt: hair combing in wedding chamber #bastardz are writing #feihua #dihua

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amuseoffyre · 3 months

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I was left unsupervised and wrote an OFMD S2 and beyond version of We Didn't Start the Fire 😁

Stede dream-fighting Izzy Hands, Ed is wrecking wedding plans, The republic, Spanish Jackie, Swede is quite the snack, Roach keeps cooking, Buttons pining, Wee John warns about the stabbing, Poor old Izzy getting dizzy, Tattoo on Ed's back. Minor Prince, puzzle chest, Swede says marriage is best, Thieving planned, husband chore, treasure chest right out the door, Indigo and coins gleam, Crew's got a new queen, Zheng Yi Sao and the Red Flag, The Republic, goodbye.

[Chorus] We didn't raise the flag But we'll keep it waving For this show we're saving We didn't raise the flag But they tried to drop it We won't let them stop it

[Verse 2] Izzy shot and Blackbeard done, Frenchie gets a promotion, Wooden boy voice, blood all over, Lucius is back. Good soup, the Queen wins, Is the Revenge sinking?? Izzy shoots Ed, the crew attack. Bonnet gets on, all escape though Ed is gone, golden merman, raised from dead, come back to him, butt his head. Exiled. Magic bowl, Buttons turning to a gull, Leg kaput, make a new foot Unicorn is Izzy

[Chorus] We didn't raise the flag But we'll keep it waving For this show we're saving We didn't raise the flag But they tried to drop it We won't let them stop it

[Verse 3] Apology, cat bell, Lucius pushes Ed as well, Fang on a fishing boat, Stede's got a cursed red coat, Ed reflects, fish is his, Time for a little kiss. Hand-in-hand, going slow, Hunted down by Ned Low, Planning party, urchins, Stede's bathtub used for drinks Drag, songs and rainbows, For goddess Calypso. Low comes, torture led, Took violin to the head. Stede is shaken, grabs for Ed Fireworks as they go to bed.

[Chorus] We didn't raise the flag But we'll keep it waving For this show we're saving We didn't raise the flag But they tried to drop it We won't let them stop it

[Verse 4] Ricky Banes, Zheng's plan, Bonnet is the fucking man, Ed is leaving, The British Invasion, Leathers brought from under waves, English soldiers put in graves, Jackie, poison-trained, Pirates get away again, Crew sad, Izzy dead, Stede is in the inn with Ed Revenge crew sail away Will they see another day?

[Chorus] We didn't raise the flag But we'll keep it waving For this show we're saving We didn't raise the flag But they tried to drop it We won't let them stop it

[Verse 5] Show cancelled, Jenkins sad, Casey says numbers were bad, Press takes a look, Is Zaslav a crook? Gay twitter here to fight, BS leak on bird-site, Pirate violence is a 'shock', HBO is roundly mocked, Time Square billboard, LA plane, DJenks says they're free again, Lubewatch trend, lots of press, New network stress, S2 now on BBC, Kristian Nairn live on IG, fans are craving what's in store, I can't take it anymore

[Chorus] We didn't raise the flag But we'll keep it waving For this show we're saving We didn't raise the flag But they tried to drop it We won't let them stop it It will still wave on, and on And on, and on

#ofmd #our flag means death #adopt our crew

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sarucane · 6 months

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OFMD Spiral Parallels 46: Izzy Being Wrong Part 4--Izzy's redemption (in which he learns to be right)

Intro: What I love most about how season 2 builds on season 1 of OFMD is the spiral narrative structure. Ground is repeatedly and explicitly re-trod from season 1 to season 2, but in season 2 everything goes deeper than season 1. Meanings are shuffled, emotions are stronger and truer, and transformation is showcased above everything. The first season plucks certain notes, then the second season plucks the same ones--but louder, and then it weaves them together to create a symphony.

---

This totally spirals round! I was starting to feel bad that this wouldn't really do the spiral thing and the title shouldn't apply, but it totally worked out!

Episode 10

In this episode, Izzy's wrongness reaches its peak. Izzy's operating on basic toxic masculinity lies: emotion is vulnerability, vulnerability is weakness, weakness is bad. And he's also having to face something he didn't really understand all season, which is that Ed's changes aren't actually all because of Stede. They go deeper.

Izzy's belief in his own lies are so deep that he can look at this

and say this

Izzy does his best to impose his lies on reality here, a dark reflection of Stede willing a better world into existence. Izzy walks away from this interaction with Ed feeling triumphant. And when Fang asks what happened to Izzy's foot, his response is this

But you can tell from Izzy's face that he doesn't quite believe this is "correct," even though he made this happen.

Izzy didn't understand anything that was happening to Ed in this episode, and he reacted to that lack of understanding in the worst possible way. He's finally realized that he was wrong when he believed just removing Stede would turn Ed back into Blackbeard. But he's only starting to realize that Ed being Blackbeard again isn't actually a good thing, for anyone.

Season 2

Izzy keeps being wrong at the beginning in the second season. He's wrong in thinking talking honestly to Ed will have any good effects, that he can now invite Ed to be vulnerable when he's the one who pushed Ed to be someone who reacts to vulnerability with destruction.

And Izzy's wrong again when he tells Ed that the atmosphere is fucked because of Stede.

Ed doesn't react with violence, real or threatened, when he's thinking of Stede in other contexts. His response to seeing the little figurine at the wedding (which he later directly addresses as if he's talking Stede) isn't to join in the violence.

Ed only reacts with violence to reminders of Stede when Izzy's the medium of those reminders. Because Izzy was the one who imposed the logic on Ed that experiencing any real vulnerability was something that deserved destruction.

And so Izzy remade Ed's world so that Ed would react to invocations of vulnerability like this:

Ed doesn't shoot Izzy because Izzy said "Stede Bonnet." He shoots Izzy because Izzy said "Stede Bonnet."

Izzy thought he was making Ed into "my captain," the strong Blackbeard of the illustrations. But he was just making Ed into a scared, lost man so terrified of living with himself, he couldn't imagine anything but running.

Ed doesn't try to kill himself over Stede. Stede leaving him just triggered deeper insecurities in Ed.

And Izzy made it so that Ed would have no way to deal with those insecurities except violence, turned on others or on himself

Izzy pays for all this, for all his actions in the first season. By episode 4 of season 2, he's a broken shell of a man, drinking hard liquor like it's water to try to cope with reality, screaming at a wooden figurehead that doesn't even actually have a head.

Izzy's wrong a lot in this episode. but while he had to learn he was wrong before through violence and pain, this time he learns it through kindness.

Izzy's wrong when he tells Stede decides that Ed's "a rotten leg" that has to be removed from the ship. But Ed isn't rotten. He's just messy. Not unlike Izzy just now

Later in the episode, Izzy tells the crew that he himself is "already gone."

He's pretty clearly working himself up to a suicide attempt. He shot himself last time because he thought having only one working leg (and being cast out by Ed) made him unworthy of life.

Izzy thinks he's got no place in the world anymore. The conceptions he built his internal world on were wrong, and there's nothing to replace them.

And Izzy's wrong.

He rotten leg came off because other people knew this, because the crew knew that he deserved a better ending than this, no matter how badly he'd acted in the past

And they're able to pass that on to Izzy.

Because Izzy isn't going to die alone. And he isn't gone yet.

By the end of the second season, Izzy's come to understand his wrongness better than anyone. He's come to understand that what he was driving Ed to do was about his own desires, and that those were both incorrect and morally wrong--because there's a better way to live, and to treat the people you care about.

And then Izzy's monologue spirals on through this moment from season 1

And presents it again

The first time we see this image, we listen to a monologue where Izzy expresses his fears over Ed being absorbed into this world. Izzy himself is in the back shadows of this shot, looking only at Ed, at the proof that so many things he believed to be correct (Ed was the mad devil Blackbeard, Izzy's position in Ed's life was secure, the world had a permanent hierarchy of strength and weakness) were wrong.

The second time we see this image, there's also a monologue of Izzy playing over it. But his perspective on the image has completely shifted. It's not a narrowly focused moment that endangers Izzy's sense of self. It's an inclusive image, that defines Izzy's sense of self.

Izzy knows better than anyone what's wrong, and what's right. And so he's able to move a step deeper than right/wrong, to understand something important about what it means to be good, or evil.

Izzy was wrong for most of this series. But he figured it out in time to make amends. To understand himself, the world he lived in, and the people he cared about better than he ever had before.

And to determine for himself what his life, and his death would mean: not hopelessness, but a gift of hope; not an enforcement of wrongness, of evil, but an embrace of uncertain rightness, of goodness.

Sometimes, being wrong--and having time to figure that out--amounts to an act of grace.

Izzy Being Wrong 3 (S1E6-9)

Izzy Being Wrong 2 (S1E5)

Izzy Being Wrong 1 (S1E3-4)

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #ed teach #izzy hands #legit i can't believe how good this redemption arc was #like it's easy to forget in the fandom discourse lately that izzy was just a nightmare last year #a sad nightmare true #but he made his sadness and anger other people's problem #and that's not okay so he needed redemption #and he got it #damn this show's good

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colormepurplex2 · 1 year

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Blood Bride | Here Comes The Bride

↳ vampire!Yoongi x human!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers | Accidental Marriage ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,449 ⚠️ Blood (drinking, spilling, mild play), hypersexual advances/blood makes you SUPER horny, teasing, kissing, unprotected sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, creampie. Yoongi has big fangs and an even bigger ego

⇽ Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

“Let me go, you fucking psyc—“ your shrill exclamation turns into a guttural scream as those blood-stained canines sink into your neck so quickly that all you see is a blur of motion before fire races through your veins. You can feel the way the fangs shred your skin and muscle, parting them with ease.

Your arms and legs go rigid, and your toes curl inside your shoes. It feels like molten rock is being poured down your spine. The intensity only lasts a moment before it’s replaced by a mind-numbing cold.

There is an intrinsic moment where everything goes fuzzy, and blackness creeps into the edges of your vision. The cold fades into a haze of mild tepidity as you feel the sucking pull of your life’s blood being drawn from your neck.

The smell of hot metal and ash fills your nostrils with every panicked breath you manage to suck in. Coppery liquid gurgles up your throat, making you cough. You watch as red droplets mist into the air in front of you, splattering and catching in the glossy strands of black hair falling around the man’s face.

He pulls free from your neck. The crimson completely takes over the brown of his eyes. “Gods,” he pants, blood frothing at the corners of his lips to bubble down and drip from his chin. “Willing blood always tastes the sweetest. Your body wanted to fight me, but deep down, I could feel your heady desire.”

“No,” you protest weakly.

A throaty laugh has more blood slicking along his lips. His blood-coated tongue pokes out, licking at the corners of his mouth. “Deny it all you want, my beloved. You and I both know the ways of your soul. It would have been impossible for you to break that damned hundred-year-old curse otherwise. A curse only broken by a willing sacrifice, just a small prick of blood to seal the wedlock union and release me from my stone tomb.”

You sag heavily against the man’s chest, your body finally giving out. “Please,” you whisper around a bloody gurgle.

“Right, right. Apologies, my beloved. It seems I’m a bit rusty with my gentile manners. Here we go,” he states in a lightly cheerful manner as he adjusts his hold on you to bring one of his own wrists to his mouth. The soft sound of his teeth parting his own flesh is reminiscent of sifting sand. Thick, black blood oozes from the open wounds when he pulls away. That hot metal and ash scent intensifies when he presses it against your gasping mouth. The flavor of his blood bursts on your tongue in a bloom of acrid bitterness that chokes your senses.

“No—pffth,” you gag, trying to spit out the offending substance. The more you struggle, the more that seems to make it into your mouth. You flail your arms and kick your legs as best you can but only manage to get your free hand clutched into the silky material of the man’s shirt and a knee pressed firmly against one of his thighs.

An involuntary swallow takes down a mouthful of blood. It settles in the pit of your stomach like lead. “You’re fucking crazy!” you exclaim, finally wrenching your mouth away as you try to twist out of the hold you’re in. “J-ji-min!” Your tongue feels thick, and a new warm sensation begins to set in, deep in your chest.

You continue to struggle, your eyes catching a glimpse of Jimin’s crumpled body now lying against the wall beside the stand lamp. The camera he was filming with is shattered into bits, scattered between where he was standing and where he is now.

“Jimin? Is that the name of the gift you brought me? What a thoughtful wedding present.” A dark chuckle follows. It sends that warm sensation careening south, compounding into a startling throb between your thighs.

“Oh god,” you gasp. Your body involuntarily tries to curl in on itself. The arms holding you let loose, and you crumple, hitting the dirty stone floor hard. “What’s happening to me?” You can’t help the anguished cry that comes with that question as you clutch at your chest and stomach. It feels like you’re being twisted from the inside out. Your heart gives a few more pitiful beats before seizing up in a painful cramp.

The man steps off the marble block, tutting softly. He crouches down beside you, resting an elbow on a bent knee with his chin in his upturned palm, his other hand reaching out to finger a sweaty piece of hair clinging to your forehead. “It’ll be over soon, my beloved. Did you not read the inscription?” he muses with a smirk on his face, nodding toward the front of the marble block. “It’s fairly clear, wouldn’t you agree? Silly me not to think someone might misunderstand, I suppose. You see, once I reached my one-thousandth year, it was imperative for me to take a bride per the rules set forth by the Grand Elder. Well, obviously, that did not pan out, as you may surmise. My sire thought me entirely too selective and prideful. The punishment for my reluctance was that my coven and I were entombed here until a willing offering became my bride themselves.”

As if to punctuate his statement in agreement, the three coffins rattle again. “I don’t…” you try to deny or reason with him, but the pain magnifies, and you can feel your heart squeezing even more, to the point you’re sure it has stopped. Cold fear curdles in your stomach like ice against the fire that’s kindling below it.

“They’re impatient,” he chuckles. “We can not blame them, though, can we? Just a moment, my beloved, I must see to my court. You will be fine. The discomfort has almost passed.”

The stone is rough against the side of your face as you writhe and groan in agony. Your lungs ache, and no matter how deeply you breathe, you feel like you’re slowly suffocating. The blackness curtaining your vision begins to recede, giving you a clear view of the man walking over to the first coffin. The swagger in his step and utter indifference to your plight has your upper lip curling in a silent snarl.

A slight grin curls the corner of the man’s lips as he turns and perches on the coffin lid. It gives another rattle, which makes the man chuckle and pat the top. Those blood-red eyes lock onto yours. With his free hand, the man crooks a finger at you, beckoning you toward him.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as the pain in your chest flares before it subsides to a minor ache. Your breath wheezes out and then stops, your lungs seeking no relief with an inhale. “What have you done to me?!” You shove onto your knees, patting your chest and throat, frantically seeking to feel your heartbeat or pulse. Nothing responds under your probing fingers.

“Now the fun begins,” the man says, his grin kicking up a notch. “In three…two…”

“Oh,” you moan, throwing back your head and squeezing your eyes shut at the intense throb that vibrates between your thighs. You can feel your body squeezing and pulsing with subtle aftershocks that remind you of a fleeting orgasm. You can’t help the trembling plea that warbles from between your lips, “Please.”

The man huffs a soft laugh. “Come, sweetling, help me with my friends. It seems there is something in my way; and then I’ll help you.” Another rattle comes from the coffin he’s seated on. “Yes, yes, my friend, I hear you.”

It feels like an internal switch flips. You only want the man sitting casually a few feet away from you. Your pupils blow wide, making you blink rapidly as saliva pools under your tongue. The taste of him, ash and hot metal, is palpable. You lick your lips and start towards him, headless of the rock debris that bites at your knees and the palms of your hands. Crawling like this should be degrading, but that awakened primal urge is more potent than any desire to retain your self-respect.

Every movement you make has the need burning inside you hiking higher. By the time you’re kneeling in front of him, you’re panting, and a light sheen of sweat coats your neck and forehead. “I need you,” you whine, gripping handfuls of the thick linen material of his pants and pressing your face against his inner thigh. You inhale deeply, savoring the sultry and warm scent of hot metal and ash.

Slender fingers gently thread through your hair, calming at first, but then a fistful is gripped tight, and your head is pulled back. “Be good for me, and I’ll be good for you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the stinging pain from how tight your hair pulls at your scalp. “O-okay,” you mewl.

The sound of electrical static emits from your back pocket before Taehyung’s voice is muffling through the denim of your jeans, “Everything okay down there? Could have sworn I heard a loud crash and a scream.”

You fumble with shaking fingers to get the walkie out of your pocket. It nearly slips between your fingers, but you manage to cling to it.

“What sorcery is this?” Yoongi sneers at the device. “A warlock in your pocket?”

You shake your head vehemently. “It’s just a walkie-talkie! If I don’t say something, then my other friends will come looking for me.”

“Say what you need. Be mindful that I will have no qualms disemboweling a fiend if I have to.” There is a biting edge to Yoongi’s words and you can see the promise in his eyes. At this moment, though, you’re certain you’d do anything to please him if only so he will give you the relief you so desperately need.

“T-tae, everything is okay,” you pant after clicking the radio button. “I just, um, I fell down, that’s all.”

“Roger that. See you in an hour,” Taehyung responds then the lines go silent.

“Good girl,” Yoongi praises, his sneer morphing into a pleased smile. “Now, see this symbol here, sweetling?” He asks, using the hand in your hair to direct your face toward the top of the coffin. The red symbol stands out in stark relief against the darker wood.

“Yes.” The walkie drops from your limp fingers, clattering to the stone floor, forgotten.

“It’s a nasty little thing—combustion charm triggered by those of my kind. I need you to break it—” he holds up a hand when you try to protest “—it’s easy enough to do, as long as you haven’t fully transitioned. It will only burn a little.” The hand in your hair eases, slipping down to cup your chin. A gentle pressure guides you up until you’re standing, bent over, so you’re at eye level with him. “Do this for me, and I will reward you greatly, my bride.”

Your eyes flutter shut as soft, cold lips press against yours. You can feel the distinct shape of those protruding canines through the thin skin of his lips as they press against yours in a barely-there kiss. Hunger blooms inside, sending you forward in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss. The man indulges you with a chuckle, letting you press your mouth adamantly against his. His lips taste faintly like cinnamon and spice. You greedily run your tongue over their curved shape.

“More,” you plead, pressing your body along the front of his as best you can with him still seated on the coffin. You grip the front of his silky shirt, trying to bring yourself even closer.

“Soon,” he murmurs against your lips. “First, my favor. Grab a shard of stone.” His strong hands grip your arms and force you back a half-step. “I need you to break the enchantment interring my friends. Just a scratch through the symbol should do the trick. Hurry now, sweetling.”

You turn and crouch down to snag up a chunk of stone debris. As you straighten up, your line of sight sweeps over the crumpled body near the bottom of the stairs. “Jimin,” you whisper, your body automatically stepping forward.

“Uh-ah,” the man behind you tuts softly. “We’ll get to your gift in a moment.”

With your attention focused on Jimin, you become keenly aware of a cloyingly sweet smell wafting from his direction. “What’s that smell?” Saliva pools around your tongue again, reflecting the wetness gathering anew between your thighs. “It smells so good,” you whine. Before you can take another step toward Jimin, a hard hand clamps around your arm and hauls you back.

“I forget how hard it is to control the urge at first,” amusement flavors his words. “Scratch through the symbols, sweetling, so I may give you your reward.”

All you want to do is follow that mouth-watering scent or fall into a manic sexual frenzy with the monster sitting atop the coffin. With a frustrated grunt, you lash out at the coffin lid where the man is seated, intent on doing as he says so you can finally get what you want.

The stone in your hand bites through the wood, scoring a deep gouge through the bottom of the red symbol. A spark of heat engulfs your hand and travels up to your elbow. The rock clatters against the lid as you release it with a pained hiss.

“Ow!”

“A momentary pain, sweetling, but you’ve managed to do it. Hurry, strike through the other two while I open this one.” The man nods toward the other two coffins, scoops up the chunk of stone, and presses it back into your hand. “A small taste,” he muses before cradling the back of your head with a hand and bringing his mouth crashing against yours. A low, feral snarl rumbles from deep in his chest as his tongue forces its way past your lips. Warmth blooms inside your mouth as his tongue sweeps against yours, contrasting wildly with the cooling sensation of his lips. “Now, do it!” he grates out, ripping his mouth from yours and shoving you toward the next coffin.

As you lurch toward the next coffin, driven by how your body responds and aches to return to the stranger behind you, you’re faintly aware of the sound of splintering wood and hushed voices.

Scoring the remaining two coffins leaves you clutching your hand, scowling from the burn ignited by the broken enchantments. You’re kneeling by the last coffin, leaning heavily against the side of it with your hand pressed to your chest. “Everything hurts,” you huff aloud to yourself.

Footsteps crunch through the dirt and debris littering the floor beside you. “You’ve done so well. Once Hoseok is free, you’ll have your reward. Not much longer,” the man says, smiling down at you. He raises a fist and slams it down onto the center of the lid. The wood buckles under the force, dust and wood splinters raining around you.

“I ought to shove a fistful of silver down your throat, Yoongi,” comes a snarky voice from within the crumbling coffin. “Do you know how unbelievably dull it has been to be trapped here with only my thoughts? Absolutely maddening.”

“I’d consider it dull company if I were locked away with you, too,” murmurs a voice coming up behind Yoongi. A tall, dark-haired man comes into your line of sight. His grey shirt and linen trousers are covered in smears of dust and specks of wood splinters that he’s dusting off as much as he can. “At least you had room to move around. These coffins were not exactly made for someone of my stature.”

Yoongi glances back, a fond look on his face for the man walking up. “Namjoon, ever the one to speak of the logistics. I am sorry, my friends,” he bends, reaching into the coffin, and comes up with a spritely and slim man gripping his arm. “If I had not been such a fool, we would not have been in this situation.”

“Yet, we were. Though, I suppose, we are free now thanks to your…uh, whatever she is,” the remaining man comes into view, his arms crossed over his chest. He glares at you. The small streaks of dirt on his apple cheeks does nothing to take away from the breathtaking beauty he possesses.

“Seokjin, let us not allow our previous state to color our current one. We do have manners,” the man Yoongi called Namjoon says, giving Seokjin a pointed look before turning an apologetic one on you. “What a dainty little creature, how delicate. I assume you have started the process?” he continues, gazing toward Yoongi.

Yoongi scoffs, continuing to help the last man out of his coffin. “You wound me, friend. I know it has been a while, but you could at least act like you still have faith in me.”

“The last time we placed our faith in you was when you promised to wed Pylia. Yet, look where that landed us,” Seokjin remarks, deepening his glower.

Hoseok waves his free hand in the air, letting Yoongi guide him over the lip of the coffin with the other. “Do not think to bring up that conniving bitch, Seokjin. You know as well as I that she was no good for Yoongi. I would take a hundred more curses of entombment before seeing him attached to that leech. Good to think she is well and rotting in the ground somewhere by now.”

“Please, gentlemen, if you held your bickering a moment, I would like to finalize the bond with my bride,” Yoongi sighs, turning away from the three men and focusing on you. He crouches down, coming eye-level with where you’re still leaning against the side of the coffin Hoseok was in. “Hi, sweetling. Thank you for helping me free my friends. I do apologize for Seokjin’s poor manners, but Namjoon and Hoseok have at least kept their heads over the years, it seems.” A derisive snort comes from behind Yoongi as Seokjin turns and stalks away.

“What’s this?” Seokjin calls, the irritation in his voice replaced by surprise and awe.

Yoongi glances back, peering around the base stone he was interred upon. “Ah, yes, my wedding gift. Come, sweetling. You have met my friends; now let me meet yours.”

His cold fingers wrapping around your arm elicit a soft moan from low in your chest. “Yes,” you suck in a short breath and desperately grab for any handhold you can get of him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and clutch into the material of his shirt again. Before you can lean in and capture his mouth, he’s chuckling and pulling back to stand. You follow him up, your body moving with a mind of its own; your hips press firmly against his side, and your lips find the soft spot of flesh below his ear.

“So eager,” he smirks. “There is but one last step. I am sure you will enjoy this as much as we will.” He ushers you as best he can, with you still clinging to him and nuzzling at his throat toward the far side of the room back to the staircase leading up.

You’re so focused on how his body moves against yours; the friction and rub of fabric along your skin with each step you take elicit small sighs of pleasure from you. There is a moment when awareness ebbs through the cloudy haze of lust filling your head when your senses register something else, something subtly familiar. A tangy sweetness permeates the air the closer you come to the stairs.

“Mmm,” you moan, mouth-watering as you finally relent and lift your head from Yoongi’s neck. “What is that?” you whisper huskily.

“That, sweetling, would be what you called ‘Jimin’.”

That name lands like a swift kick in the gut. “What? Oh no, Jimin!” You shove away from Yoongi, quickly untangling yourself and dropping to your knees beside the slumped form of your best friend.

“Careful now,” Yoongi chastises. “You are in a heightened state of being. Getting too close without the proper control could trigger a blood frenzy, and then, well, you may hurt the poor fellow even more than he seems to be already.”

The hand you had suspended in the air as you were reaching for Jimin drops immediately to your side. You don’t want to hurt him. “Help him, please.”

Yoongi kneels on one knee beside you, his dark red eyes roving over Jimin as if in assessment. “Only you can help him now, sweetling. I can hear his heartbeat, but it is quite faint. There is not much time. Here,” he says, gently shifting Jimin’s body, so it comes to rest face-up, “be swift.” Jimin shudders slightly, his eyes moving rapidly behind his closed lids. Blood covers half his face and plasters his hair to his forehead.

You suck in a ragged breath that brings that tangy sweet smell into your lungs. An ache throbs in your jaw and echoes between your thighs. “What can I do?”

“Just a bite,” Yoongi whispers, “to start a new adventure for you both.” He delicately lifts Jimin’s arm, twisting it, so his wrist is presented to you. “I know you want it. I can feel the change in your breathing and smell the arousal now beginning to seep from your body.”

A full-body shudder racks through you as you fight the urge to latch onto Jimin’s proffered wrist. Your eyes water and you subconsciously drift closer, stopping when your lips brush against the warm skin along the side of Jimin’s arm.

A soft, tantalizing thrum beckons just below the surface of Jimin’s skin. It’s so faint that you’d missed it before, but now being so close, it’s like a siren’s song mournfully drifting on a warm summer breeze.

“Just bite him already,” someone sighs from behind you, clearly disgruntled. There is a hint of aggression in the voice that has all your receptors firing at once. Your instinct surges to the surface, replacing any hesitation that remains.

Ecstasy spills on your tongue as your teeth sink into the soft flesh held daintily between Yoongi’s slender fingers. The ache in your jaw coalesces into sharp points; you can feel your canines elongating and piercing further into the meat of Jimin’s wrist.

“That’s it, beloved. You’re doing so well. Focus on the way his heartbeat feels against your tongue. The moment it stops, you have to also stop,” Yoongi murmurs encouragingly in your ear. You can feel his body pressed against yours. His free hand slides under the back of your shirt, and surprisingly, it’s not nearly as cold as it was before. It’s actually quite pleasant.

He rubs a slow circle on your lower back, and then his hand slides around until it rests on your lower belly. Yoongi shifts so he’s kneeling behind you, his knees to either side of your body. Soft lips press against the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, placing featherlight kisses.

You suck in a mouthful of Jimin’s blood, letting it slide down your throat with a slow swallow. Yoongi slides his fingers down, flirting with the top of your jeans before teasing beneath the fabric in playful flits and caresses. You shudder against him, nearly ravaging Jimin’s wrist.

You’re faintly aware of Namjoon kneeling down on your other side. The other two men are but small presences that register somewhere behind you. It’s easy to feel the moment Jimin’s pulse ceases. “I will take care of it from here,” Namjoon says lightly, holding out his hand in front of you.

“Let go,” Yoongi instructs, his voice laced with authority and husk. You reluctantly pull off Jimin’s wrist, letting it flop into Namjoon’s waiting palm. “Good girl.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a chill ripples down your spine. “Fuck,” the curse is liquid on your lips, bubbling with the blood now dripping down your chin. It turns into a ragged moan as Yoongi’s fingers dip even further and press against the front of your panties.

“Do we really have to stay here while he fucks her?” comes the same disgruntled voice from before. “I would much rather go find my own warm body to sink into.”

“Hush, Seokjin,” Hoseok admonishes. “I am sure the two heartbeats I can feel upstairs will satisfy you once Yoongi is done here. There is a process to these things, you know that as well as I.”

“Hoseok is right,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. He gathers Jimin’s limp body in his arms. You watch as he brings one of his wrists to his mouth, and much the way Yoongi did to you, he opens the skin with his fangs—which are shorter than Yoongi’s you note—and presses the oozing wounds to Jimin’s lips.

Jimin’s body convulses, his eyes spring open and swivel until they land on you. They go wide as he takes in the sight of you slouched against Yoongi with his hand shoved down the front of your pants. Jimin tries to speak, flailing in Namjoon’s arms, but from under your lowered lids you see the moment Namjoon’s blood triggers something inside of him.

“Fuck!” Jimin finally jerks his mouth away from Namjoon’s wrist. He writhes, twisting in the other man’s lap. “What have you done to me?!”

“He’s feisty; how cute,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “What a wonderful gift, indeed. Jimin, right? Well, what we have done is allowed you to join my sweetling here in a lifetime of eternal power and glory. You are now a part of my coven.” Pausing in his explanation, Yoongi finally pushes your panties aside and delves his fingers into your wet slit. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” he crows, laughing as you moan loudly and thrust your hips forward to force his fingers deeper. “Mmm, I am sure that by now you are feeling the effects of Namjoon’s blood. A mild side effect of the vampire venom, but a wonderful attribute if I do say so myself.”

“I need you,” you plead, trying to twist around in Yoongi’s arms and seek further pleasure.

“Stop touching her!” Jimin yells, drawing your attention back to him.

“Minnie, chill out. Isn’t this what you wanted? For my vampire fantasy to come true?” you snarl the last part, baring your newly elongated fangs at him.

Jimin groans, the sound is slightly pained. “Oh, holy hell, what’s happening to me?” Namjoon loosens his hold enough that Jimin rights himself and ends up sitting between Namjoon’s knees.

“Shh, you are entirely too pretty to have such a sour look on your face,” Namjoon coos, wrapping his arms around Jimin again. He intentionally places one of his big hands on Jimin’s belly, letting his fingers splay out across the flat expanse. “Just watch as Yoongi takes care of his bride, then I will take care of you, I promise.”

Yoongi slips his hand from inside your pants, much to your disappointment. His nimble fingers had only just begun stroking languidly over your clit, barely scratching the surface of the desire and ache that has been burning inside you since the moment he exploded from his stone prison and sunk his fangs into your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, throwing a frantic look back at him.

He chuckles, poking at the tip of one of his fangs with his tongue. “Why, sweetling, I have not yet begun.” You cry out as Yoongi shoves you forward onto your hands and knees, hiking your hips up in the process. “Beg for it,” he growls, shoving his hips against your ass so you feel the very prominent evidence of his own arousal.

“Please, please. Please!” you beg as requested, thrusting your ass out in invitation.

The seams of your jeans groan and stretch with how quickly Yoongi snatches them down. The button snaps and the zipper pops from the force. Red streaks mar your hips and thighs where the rough denim abrades them.

“Stop that! What are you doing?!” Jimin grunts, straining against the hold Namjoon has on him.

Hoseok comes around and kneels beside Namjoon, working his fingers around one of Jimin’s hands. “It is quite simple. They are blood mates and this is one of the more enjoyable points. We will be lucky if they are not coupling once every hour for the entire next moon cycle.”

“Mmm, we shall see how well my self-restraint holds up,” Yoongi muses, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. You feel like you’re burning up, panting to try and get more oxygen into your lungs even though your body no longer demands it. “You are absolutely dripping, sweetling. This cunt looks utterly divine, I look forward to tasting it. But, first—” the drawstrings holding the front flap of Yoongi’s trousers closed slip free under his slender fingers “—your reward, as promised.”

A shuddering moan bubbles from you as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and firmly kicks his hips forward in one fluid motion. Your mouth gapes open, eyes watering from the intrusion, as your body protests the initial stretch. His hips retreat and surge forward again, setting a relentless pace. Obscene sounds emanate from between your thighs and pour from your mouth.

“Yes!” You rock back into each thrust, surprised and thrilled with the near instant response from your body. Your arousal peaks and you’re left hovering on the precipice of an orgasm. Deep inside, you can feel that all it would take is a command from your body to send you into oblivion.

“Watch close, pretty one,” Namjoon murmurs to Jimin, who is now shamelessly rubbing his ass against Namjoon’s crotch. Hoseok is using his hand holding Jimin’s to caress and massage the front of your friend's jeans, which are straining with Jimin’s very apparent erection. “This is what having a blood mate means.”

Yoongi tilts his head back, opening his mouth wide. His fangs glint in the light from the skewed stand lamp before he whips down and buries them into the side of your neck from behind. His hips continue to pound into you, the angle forcing him even deeper. He wraps an arm around your waist and brings the other around and presses the inside of his wrist against your lips. Your body responds on instinct, lips curling back and your own fangs sinking into his flesh.

The taste of sweet nectar explodes on your tongue at the same time as your body locks up in a fit of the most powerful orgasm you have ever experienced. Your vision flickers, ebbing in and out of clarity. “Fuck,” Yoongi growls into your neck, the vibration sending further shocks down your body. You throb and pulse around him, coaxing his own release.

“They can feed from each other indefinitely,” Hoseok says softly, his voice barely carrying over the residual moans and grunts coming from you and Yoongi. “Mated for the rest of their existences.”

“W-will that happen to m-me?” Jimin whines, mouthing at the side of Namjoon’s throat.

“Maybe one day,” Hoseok nods. He encourages Jimin to open his jeans so he can slip his hand inside. “For now, you have us. You are bonded with our coven, a part of our whole. We will give you everything you need. Though, right now you need—“

Hoseok is cut off by the sound of shuffling footsteps coming down the stairs. “Hey, Jimin, you guys okay down there? It’s been over thirty minutes since we were all supposed to meet upstairs.”

“It seems our new friend will be getting exactly what he needs soon,” Seokjin intones, speaking for the first time in a while. He’s lounging against one of the open coffins, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the bottom of the stairs curiously. “I wonder if either of them will scream.”

“I hope you two aren’t fucking,” Taehyung’s voice echoes from the stairs, coming closer. “You guys aren’t answering me on the walkie, and I can’t think of many reasons why you wouldn’t be—“

“What the fuck!” Jungkook exclaims as he and Taehyung come around the final bend in the stairs and see what awaits them.

“Don’t hurt them,” you manage to sigh, barely holding onto consciousness as Yoongi pulls out and cradles your limp body against his.

“Oh, sweetling, we will not hurt them…much.” Yoongi offers a toothy smile to Taehyung and Jungkook, who are frozen at the bottom of the steps, gawking at you and Jimin. “Seokjin, welcome our new friends.”

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