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meowmeow-motherfucker · 22 days

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The Fox & the Squirrel- Chapter 18

Summary: Chasing yet another demon in a long line of hunts, the Winchesters get help from an unlikely source. But their new recruit isn’t exactly who she says she is. Savannah is used to looking over her shoulder. Life in hiding doesn’t leave much room for enjoyment, but traveling with the Winchesters just may give her a new lease on life.

Fic pairing: Dean Winchester/OFC Savannah Hart

Trigger warnings: elements of horror and witchcraft, references to past torture/trauma, Crowley is a dick, lies and deception, mutual pining, flirting, sex, typical Winchester shenanigans.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242644/chapters/37972217

It had been two weeks and neither of them had talked about The Incident™. Whatever had spurred Dean to action back in Milwaukee seemed to have disappeared, and Savannah was frustrated. She was trying so hard to be good, and not use her power to coerce Dean to touch her again, but he seemed determined to pretend The Incident™ had never happened. At least that’s what she’d thought, until she caught him staring at her chest.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“My eyes are up here.” Savannah chuckled. Her clothing choice must have caught his attention, just like she’d hoped it would. Thank goodness Sam had gone out to get breakfast. Their hotel might have a kitchenette this time round, but mornings were still rough for them all. Savannah had thrown together a quick hashbrown casserole for dinner with the meager groceries they’d gotten from the convenience store down the street, and Dean was tidying up the dishes they’d left out overnight in their exhaustion.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Dean turned away from her in a flash. “I’m not fully awake yet and I was zoning out. I wasn’t trying to stare.”

“It’s okay.”

“You want me to stare?”

“You can do more than that. If you want.” Savannah offered, her eyes never wavering from Dean’s. Dean dropped the dish towel from his hands, turned off the faucet, and stepped into her space, pulling her toward him with an arm around her waist. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her with him, laying her on her back beside him.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“Positive.” Savannah curled her fingers around his wrists as she guided his large hands to her breasts. She let her head fall back on the bed at the relief his touch brought.

“Aw geez.” Dean groaned as he squeezed her breasts gently.

“What?” Savannah looked up at him questioningly.

“They’re the perfect size for my hands.”

“Oh! I thought something was wrong. You’re a weirdo.” Savannah laughed.

“I’m giving you a compliment and you’re laughing at me?”

“Yep.”

“Rude,” Dean sighed. “Guess I’ll have to earn your gratitude. May I?” he asked, eyes darting down to the expanse of skin her rising shirt had exposed. Savannah gulped, nervous and excited at the same time. Dean’s green eyes met hers, as if he sensed her hesitation. At her nod, his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons, letting the material fall to either side of her body and leaving her in her tank top.

“Still okay?” Dean asked, waiting for her nod before grazing his thumbs over her nipples through the fabric of her tank top. Savannah bit her lip as the sensation sent shocks through her. Aware that Sam could return at any time, Dean chose not to remove her shirt and simply pulled her tank top down to let her breasts spill out. “Beautiful,” He muttered to himself. “No one’s ever done this for you?” he asked, lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers.

“N-no,” Savannah replied as his other hand groped and massaged her breast. “You’re the first.”

“Well I’ll be damned. It must be my lucky day,” Dean groaned as he pressed her tits together, caressing her sensitive skin lovingly with his thumbs. “So pretty. Can I?”

“Can you what?” Savannah giggled. “Dean, you’re the one that knows what they’re doing here. This is pretty much your show, so…I guess you do whatever you want and I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”

“God damn, I’m a lucky bastard.” Dean wasted no time in burying his face in Savannah’s chest, licking and nipping at her skin as she laughed. It was different, Savannah thought. It tickled but also boosted the flame growing in her belly. She actually enjoyed Dean’s weight on top of her and didn’t want him to move. She trusted him to make her feel pleasure instead of pain. Is this what it was supposed to be like?

She squeaked when Dean took a nipple into his mouth, but that quickly gave way to a moan as he tweaked her other nipple with his fingers and she caught herself writhing under him. He hummed appreciatively, and held her still with a hand on her waist as he licked her other nipple into his mouth, suckling with an intensity that had her whining needfully.

“You know what I don’t get?” Dean asked suddenly, her breast falling from his mouth with a wet pop.

“What?” Savannah asked breathlessly. Damn him for stopping! Her body was on fire and her core ached.

“Some guys don’t take the time to play with a woman’s breasts. I mean, I like to get to the main event as much as the next guy, but only an idiot would ignore a woman’s breasts, especially ones as sensitive as these beauties. Play your cards right, and you’ll have a girl begging for more,” Dean said as he blew gently on her wet nipple, making her squirm. “Simple, but so effective. Isn’t it?” he asked, grinning when Savannah whimpered.

“You’re an ass.” She muttered.

“And here I thought you were enjoying yourself,” Dean smirked. “You want me to stop?”

“Please don’t.”

“Didn’t think so. I bet you’re soaked. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Dean purred.

“I don't know. Maybe you should check.” Savannah teased. Dean's tongue did something to her nipple, and he chuckled against her skin when she arched up into him.

“Oh I will,” Dean promised darkly, his fingers making quick work of the fly of her jeans. Both of his hands left her to pull her jeans down past her ass. “Well, well, well,” he chuckled as her satin panties came into his view. “Are these for me?” His fingers danced along her thighs, green eyes darting up to hers to check on her. “Doing okay?” He asked. Savannah nodded, eyes zeroed in on his fingers on her skin.

“Please keep going.” She pleaded, sighing when a finger landed on her clit, gently rubbing her through the soft material of her panties. She keened, thighs quivering around his hand as he increased the pressure on her clit and rubbed faster. He grinned as her entire body stiffened under his attention, and he eased off, deftly slipping his fingers inside her panties to tease her entrance.

“Still okay?” Savannah nodded frantically, panting as she chased his lips with hers. He slipped a finger inside her tight heat as their lips met, cradling her neck in his hand as he worked her G-spot. She moaned into his mouth as deep-seated pleasure throbbed throughout her body, one hand fisting his shirt at his back and the other the bed covers when he added a second finger.

“Fuuuuuck!” she whimpered when he sped up his onslaught, all the muscles in her body tensing.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart,�� Dean praised. “You just wait til we get some uninterrupted time. Wanna see all of you and make you fall apart.”

“Why not...now?” Savannah asked breathlessly.

“Well for one, Sammy’s due back any minute,” Dean replied. “And I’m not sure you’re ready for all the dirty things I wanna do to you.” He nudged her head to the side, sinking his teeth into her neck. Savannah squealed at the sensation, squirming in his grasp and making him pull back. “You’re about to come, aren’t you? I can feel it,” He dropped a kiss on her lips, frowning when she tensed up. “Relax, baby. Don’t fight it, just let go. I got you.”

“Please kiss me.” She begged, tugging at his flannel to bring his mouth down to hers. Her orgasm exploded as Dean’s lips pressed against hers, and she moved her hand to cup the back of his neck as she writhed under him. He nipped at her bottom lip and she dug her nails into him as she moaned into his mouth.

She could feel his length, burning hot and hard as steel, against her thigh as he worked her through her orgasm. Dean dropped his weight on the bed, cradling her head in the crook of his arm as he dotted kisses on her flushed skin. His hand was still working, thumb rubbing slow circles on her clit that made her eyes roll back. Dean sank two fingers back inside her throbbing sex and pressed against her G-spot, huffing a soft laugh against her skin when she mewled.

“Yeah? You enjoying yourself?” he asked. Savannah keened when his thumb pressed harder on her clit, sending sparks through her body. She wanted to answer, but all she could muster was a nod. Dean chuckled as she kissed him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he teased and pinched her over-sensitive clit. “I’d love to keep you like this. So gorgeous.” he praised.

“What...about you?” Savannah managed to form words, running her fingers through his soft hair as she stared up at him. Dean pursed his lips, seeming to weigh his options. His green eyes darted to the door when the roar of the Impala’s engine met his ears.

“Maybe next time, beautiful. We’re out of time,” Dean captured her lips in a swift kiss and got to his feet, pulling her up when she reached for him. “You good?” he teased when she needed to anchor herself with his arm.

“Just a little light-headed,” she snickered. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Bathroom’s that way, unless you want Sam to see you.” Dean joked, playfully steering her toward the small bathroom.

“But what about-” Savannah’s eyes dropped to his groin, where his erection was still plainly visible. Dean grinned, giving her a quick kiss to derail her train of thought.

“I’ll live. This was about you,” he said. Savannah opened her mouth to argue, but the gentle swat to her backside made her forget what she’d planned to say. “Go’on, get.” Dean shooed her, turning back to the dishes in the sink.

Savannah watched him adjust himself in his jeans before ducking into the bathroom. She heard Sam come in, and heard the brothers bantering as she cleaned herself up.

What the hell had just happened? Was Dean really okay with denying himself? She’d never known a man to do that before.

Part of her felt he was just being kind, considerate of both her bad experiences and lack of knowledge. The other part of her wondered if he was toying with her, waiting until her guard was down to strike.

Don’t be ridiculous. She coached herself. This was Dean . He’d had ample opportunity to take advantage and hadn’t. She was being paranoid. Besides, they couldn't very well be...intimate with Sam in the room.

Shaking her head to rid herself of negative thoughts, Savannah left the bathroom and joined the brothers to eat, content to sit and listen to them bicker about their next case.

#meowmeow writes #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #the fox & the squirrel

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merlyn-bane · 10 months

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SubCody Week Day Two

Cody/Quinlan Vos. Prompts for "Fuck you, man", "Fuck me yourself, coward" and breathplay.

@subcodyweek

You Think I Wouldn't? (4565 words) by MerlynBane Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Quinlan Vos, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & CC-1010 | Fox Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-1010 | Fox Additional Tags: Top Quinlan Vos, Bottom CC-2224 | Cody, Dominant Quinlan Vos, Submissive CC-2224 | Cody, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Mission Fic, Sort Of, Bickering, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Little Shit, Quinlan Vos is a Little Shit, CC-2224 | Cody is a Little Shit, CC-2224 | Cody is Always Prepared, Mentioned Quinlan Vos/CC-1010 | Fox Idiocy, Fox Won't Use His Words And Cody Refuses To Let That Be His Problem, Brotherly Threats of Violence, As you do, Marshall Commander Cody's Slut Era, I guess this qualifies as sex on a dare? Series: Part 2 of They Told Me I Couldn't Bag A Jedi (And I Took That Personally) Summary:

Vos’s grin turns absolutely gleeful. “You’re telling me that I get to go bushwhacking through an Outer Rim jungle to an abandoned Force temple with a dashing commander?”

“I have a name,” Cody snaps. He is, of course, ignored.

“Oh, I love this book. Your shirt gets shredded in chapter eight. I have the passage highlighted.” Vos tucks his hands behind his head. “Obes Kenobes twisting his ankle really was a gift from the Force.”

Cody’s read the book, too, but he’ll space himself before he tells Quinlan Vos that. “I’ll make sure to tell him that you said that,” Cody replies dryly, forcing himself to relax his jaw. “This is a pick-up, not a credit-holonovel. No jetii nonsense, Vos—I mean it.”

Marshall Commander Cody's Slut Era [Affectionate]™ Continues.

#subcodyweek 2023 #subcody week #subcodyweek #commander cody #quinlan vos #commander cody x quinlan vos

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year

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THE FOX AND THE HOUND™︎

fem!oc x kyle “gaz” garrick

in which a sardonic, cunning, freakishly independent irish girl with a dark past and questionable future finally finds someone that she doesn’t want to push away… and she’s absolutely horrified

parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

TW: light cursing

❝ A GHOST AND THE BOOGEYMAN ❞

Fort Bragg, NC, USA

12 Nov, 2022, 1300

— THE FIRST SENSE THAT VIXEN GOT BACK FROM HER EXTRAORDINARY NAP WAS HER HEARING. Specifically, hearing the voices of the people that seemed to be sitting around her like she was a zoo exhibit.

“You think she’ll be with us for training, or whining like a baby about that leg?” A voice came. This one had a British accent, much like the big man from earlier, but it was smoother and a bit nicer than his Manchester accent.

“She was repeatedly shoving a knife into her leg in the back of the car, so I’d say she has a pretty high pain tolerance,” Came the voice of the Scotsman.

A pair of footsteps drifted up from the left, an American accent making a quick appearance: “I think you’ve got a good one, sir. She sleeps like the dead. We didn’t even have to sedate her to patch up the wound, all we did was numb the area and she didn’t even twitch in her sleep.”

She heard some material rub against itself, probably someone shrugging. “Highest pain tolerance I’ve ever seen on a woman.” It was the scot again.

“I’m a bloody medic, I have to have a high pain tolerance or everyone else dies,” She deadpanned, peeling her amber eyes open to glance around the room. In front of her was the scot, who flinched when she spoke, a man in a little hat with a very strange mustache, and a man in scrubs — a doctor, she supposed. The room she was in was large and open, with a concrete floor and little stand-up curtains separating several hospital beds from one another.

“How long have you been listening?” The scot asked.

Vixen shrugged, scooting herself back so she’d sit up more. “I don’t know, probably since the whole repeatedly shanking myself in the leg part.”

He nodded to himself, eyes flicking down to the floor with slight embarrassment. She smirked to herself.

“Soap, you can go. I need to get Vixen’s briefing over with,” The man with the mustache ordered. That must’ve been Price, she assumed. But something else, however, stuck out.

“Your name is Soap?” She asked, light eyebrows knitting together. “Like… a bar of soap?”

“Yours is a fox,” He defended, crossing his arms. His blue eyes were shining with amusement, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.

She snickered. “Vixen are cunning, and it’s another word for a sexy woman. What are bars of soap?… Slippery when wet…? Always on the floor of the shower…?”

Soap blinked, his ears turning bright pink, and Price seemed to notice, because he ordered for the second time: “Soap, you’re dismissed. Get the others into the commons for the introduction.”

He turned and left without another word, leaving Vixen to revel in her success of embarrassing him. Price drifted over to the left side of her bed.

“I think it’d be beneficial for everyone in the one-four-one if you didn’t treat my men like that,”

Vixen creased her brow. “Like what?”

“Making crude jokes just so see what elicits the funniest reaction,” He replied. Vixen snorted, crossing her arms.

“This is the military. We breathe crude jokes and funny reactions, Price. You are Price, right?”

“It’s captain to you,” He ordered, cold blue eyes staying stone hard on her face. She sucked in a deep breath, and sighed after a moment of silence. Obviously, Price wasn’t going to be very fond of her just like her previous commanding officer hadn’t been. She had to admit, though, she’d be pretty pissed, too, if a brand new general struck a deal with another and got a little irish arse thrown onto her team of hardcore professionals.

“Captain,” She corrected with a huff. He stayed silent for a moment, brushing his hand over his mustache like he was contemplating his next words.

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“Am I a toddler?” Vixen shot back before she could think any better of it. She decided not to back down, not to shrink back and show weakness in front of her new captain, so she just stared straight into his gray-blue eyes. He didn’t look amused in the slightest. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, obviously keeping himself from saying something.

“Then get up and come on. We have introductions to do,” He ordered, turning away from her and starting toward the exit door.

Vixen obeyed, flipping the itchy cotton blanket off of her. She was still in her clothes from earlier, but the entire right leg of her pants had been cut off. She looked stupid.

“You got any full pants, Cap?” She questioned, standing up on the concrete floor. Her boots were still on and she was sure this was the dumbest she’d ever looked in her life. Not to mention the burning pain that rippled up and down her leg when she stood, making her lean to the side a bit. Price turned and glared at her, so she added a quick: “-tain,” before he could ridicule her again for not calling him captain.

“Come on,” He ordered. Vixen sucked in a breath and followed his steps, praying they wouldn’t pass anybody important in the hallway. And that he wasn’t taking her to introductions wearing that.

“Stay here,” He stated, disappearing into a metal door on the left. She clasped her hands together in front of her, rocking from toe-to-heel in her half pants and tall boots get up. At least she still had on a whole shirt. A black turtleneck, in fact. At that current moment, it seemed to have more fabric than her ARW certified cargo pants.

Price re-emerged a moment later, pushing a pair of camo pants and belt into her hands. “Go in and change.”

She nodded, entering the metal door and closing it behind her. Inside was a small, sterile locker-room that smelled like men. The walls were lined with gray lockers, that matched the gray floor, gray walls, and gray ceiling. There was one tiny sink in the corner with a little mirror above it.

Sighing, she quickly shed her ruined pants and slid the new ones on. They were way too long at the ankle, and extremely loose on her waist, but the belt and a lot of cuffing made them presentable. She tucked in her turtleneck and re-laced her boots. She didn’t waste a second glancing into the teeny mirror see what was up with her hair.

She had a nicely purpling bruise on the left side of her face, running from her forehead, down her temple and around her eye. Her lip was visibly busted even though the blood had been cleaned off. There were a couple butterfly stitches on her right temple, holding together a cut she didn’t even know was there. The platinum hair that stopped just above her shoulders was stained red near her face, and even though it was faded like someone tried to clean it, it was still noticeably pink. Not to mention that it was horribly frizzy. Being tortured for information didn’t do much for the curls, she guessed. She ran her fingers through it a couple of times before heading back into the hallway.

He scanned her skeptically when she reappeared. “You make those pants work?”

She nodded. “For now.”

“Come on,” He suddenly urged, continuing up the bare hall like a man on a mission. They passed several closed doors, offices, and some bathrooms before he turned into a room that had no door. A commons room.

Vixen quietly hoped the rest of her team wasn’t like Price. She had high hopes for Soap — seeing as he seemed somewhat alright with her constant sarcasm — but as for the rest, she didn’t know. She just hoped they weren’t like Price, who, apparently, couldn’t take a joke. Or maybe he was just pissed at her throwing off the team dynamic and he’d be fine with it later. She hoped that was it, because she definitely wasn’t turning it off anytime soon.

“I’m not a babysitter, okay, kid? You’d better live up to the reputation the ARW gave you,” Price ordered as they walked through the entrance of the commons room. She scowled. Sure, she was twenty-four, but kid was a little unnecessary. She did quietly wonder what the ARW had told them about her, though.

As she entered the room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted her nostrils like a whiff of an actual dream. The room was large — a small metal dining table lined with chairs, a few couches, a tv, and a small kitchen in the back corner with a coffee pot that was spluttering as it brewed a fresh batch of fuel.

Standing beside the coffee pot, all posted up against the counter, was Soap. His combat attire had been completely exiled, a t-shirt and jeans taking their place. His icy eyes landed on her as soon as she walked in. His military-mandatory dog tags that sat around his neck glinted as they swayed back and forth, grabbing her attention. Would she be getting dog tags? She never wore them with the ARW unless she was going overseas.

She moved to the next figure in the room, the big man, who was standing against the wall straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed over one another. He’d abandoned his skull mask and was now wearing a full balaclava, black paint obvious around his cold eyes. He was in the exact same outfit he was wearing when she’d first met him, complete with his tactical vest and belt. She couldn’t see much of his face, but she could tell he didn’t care much to meet her. Dude was even massive-er now that she was getting a good look at him. He had to have been, like, six-four. That was more than a foot taller than her.

The next guy in the room was sitting at the metal table, arms crossed and dark eyes resting on her and Price. He had dark skin, and a buzzcut peeking out from under the British-flag baseball cap that sat on his head. He was dressed like Soap — jeans and a t-shirt — eyes raking across her frame, trying to take in his new team member.

The fourth and final figure that had been waiting in the room, Vixen didn’t notice at first. Mostly because he was sitting in a chair in the corner like he was in time-out. She only spotted him a few seconds later because his pitch-black get up stood out against the gray walls. He was sitting and was almost as tall as her, he had to be a freaking mountain when he stood up. He still had his vest on, much like the other big man, and he had a sniper’s hood over his face, only revealing his icy eyes that seemed distant like the big man’s. She had a lot of jokes, but she swallowed them down because he looked like the boogeyman and she didn’t really feel like pissing him off on her first day. Maybe later.

“Vixen, this is your team. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz,” Price explained, gesturing to each man as he spoke. “And this is König, an operator from the military contractor KorTac that we’re going to be working closely with for a while. The rest of the men in his unit are around here somewhere, but he’s the only one I could get ahold of that agreed to help with… you.”

Vixen nodded slightly, glancing at König as he rose from the chair he was in. Every single snarky comment that had been brewing in her head dissolved into nothing the moment she realized he could probably touch the ceiling without getting on his toes. He was a good four or five inches taller than Ghost and, frankly, could snap her into pieces and use her as a footrest if he wanted to.

“Guys, this is Vixen, the transfer from the ARW,” Price continued, shifting his attention back to her. “You’re going to attend a few training sessions tomorrow with each member of the team so we can assess your skill levels. Ghost will take you on firearms. You might be labeled a sniper, but you aren’t one on our team unless he says you’re one. You’ll be going over some simple strategy and recon simulations with Gaz. Soap is going to test your ability to survive in situations where you have no weapons, stealth, and so on — should you ever be in one — and König is going to feel out your hand to hand skills.”

What Vixen really wanted to say was oh hell no he wasn’t. König was a living, breathing tank, and she was not about to let her five-foot-two, one-hundred-and-four pound self be pinned by him. Despite every argument that came to mind, though, she just ended up muttering: “Alright, Captain.”

“You’ll be joining Dr. Bowman and I to get an assessment on your status as a field medic. You don’t pass, you can kiss that title goodbye. My team isn’t going to have a medic unless they know field medicine cover to cover,” He continued. Vixen grumbled: “Yes, Captain.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “Good luck, kid. Welcome to the one-four-one.” He patted her shoulder and turned, leaving her in the kitchen with all three of her newfound teammates and König, the boogeyman.

She sucked in a breath, quickly realizing all four of them had they eyes trained on her. Never before, had Vixen, of all people, felt the slightest bit uncomfortable under the gaze of a group of men. But now, with these particular men, she felt like she was being dissected.

To break the silence, she snickered. “A ghost and the boogeyman. What’s next, the phantom of the opera?”

— ☘︎ —

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blimbo-buddy · 11 months

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Uhm... This 2,514 word long ask is what I'm apologizing for. We're having fun. It's so dandy to be part of the Warriors community. Golly gee, I'm so happy to be here. (vibrating)

Well, I can say that this has convinced me to make a blog for this AU because I refuse to allow canon to exist... and maybe because I've been drawing a TurtleBumble PMV. My art ain't the best, but I am a goober who does not care.

Also, congrats on your graduation!!!

A little fun fact: Bumble asking Turtle Tail about daffodils is a reference to, "Open your eyes. They're more precious than daffodils. I need you to open them.", which is seen in Part 1. I'm also a Flower Nerd™, hence why I immediately went, "I CAN REFERENCE THIS SO HARD."

I'm... going into essay territory, BUT- I beg you to bare with me. Or just ignore my ranting and pop down to Was I Wrong?

TW for trauma, abuse, death, xenophobia, and abandonment.

Spoilers for Dawn of the Clans: Thunder Rising.

I need to just... rant for a second because I had the displeasure of rereading The Sun Trail and Thunder Rising this morning. Good gods is the writing horrendous. I have so many qualms with the writing in general, but gods... Dawn of the Clans is really just like a problematic fave if we added in every toxic trait we could source.

I'M SORRY CANON?!

So, I was under the impression that it was Turtle Tail saying: "I'm sorry if I ever hurt you." BUT NO? GET THIS FOLKS: THAT'S BUMBLE REPLYING TO TURTLE TAIL. EXCUSE ME??? EX-FUCKING-CUSE? Okay, canon, fuck you too. We can't even get Turtle Tail apologizing for what she did. Gee, thanks, Erins.

Y'all wanna read this scene in full? Yeah, here we go. (Notice that Turtle Tail is replying.)

Turtle Tail turned away, her tail drooping, as Clear Sky vanished into the ferns. She crouched beside Bumble, avoiding the spreading pool of blood, and began licking her head gently. “I’m here,” she murmured between licks. “I won’t leave you.” Bumble fixed her eyes on Turtle Tail’s face. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you,” she whispered. “I wish you could have found happiness,” Turtle Tail replied, her voice quivering. “I know you could never have lived wild with us in the hollow, but I was so unhappy to learn how much you were suffering in the Twolegplace.”

You left her, Turtle Tail. You abandoned her. Bumble, even at her death, is apologizing to you. When it's her who deserves all of the apologies. Bumble, sweetie, they- they abandoned you. Gods, that makes it so bittersweet how I wrote it like canon; Turtle Tail never apologized.

Bumble's last canon words are, "I'm sorry if I ever hurt you."

HOOH BOY.

Well, here's at least one slay moment before we get into below. I actually like Turtle Tail saying this in regards to Clear Sky hurting Bumble. (IF WE WEREN'T LISTENING TO GRAY WING MOPING ABOUT EVERYONE HATING CLEAR SKY SAD UWU)

“I do,” she growled, all her neck fur fluffed up. “I believe you could do this. Since I returned to the moor, I’ve heard nothing but horrible stories about the way you treat other cats. You’re power-mad, Clear Sky. You don’t care who you hurt to get what you want. And now... you’re not the cat I came down from the mountains with. You’re...” She switched her tail to and fro. “You’re an apology for a cat.”

I will say that I also (accidentally) stuck to canon in a way because...

“I wanted to give her a warning,” Clear Sky went on. “Nothing too painful, just a little cuff around her kittypet ear. How was I to know she was so weak from hunger that she would faint? But I could see her paws twitching, and I knew she would come around soon. So I left her and headed back to camp.” He paused, wincing. “Then I heard a fox bark, and I ran back. But I was too late. I was going to get help when I heard you all arrive.” “Liar!” Turtle Tail spat out the word, shouldering Gray Wing out of the way to confront Clear Sky. Her back was arched and her pelt bristling with fury

I wish I could say in regards to all of this, "At least you did this much, canon Turtle Tail," but I can't. Erins, this doesn't make me forgive her. She messed up. Confronting Clear Sky doesn't make me go, "Oh, it's okay that you threw away your friend and was extremely xenophobic!"

I want to add that only 4 paragraphs after - one of which Clear Sky snarled, "I won't be spoken to like that!", despite having injured Bumble horribly, then in another went to leave - Turtle Tail has the scene with Bumble. Like???

Imagine calling someone who inflicted deadly wounds on your friend a liar and he goes, ">:0 how dare you??", then you just... turn and walk away??? There's not even a moment where Turtle Tail yells at Clear Sky or anything. Pebble Heart doesn't come over and say, "Turtle Tail, she's not going to make it." It just hops over to her death scene.

I HAVE MORE TO SAY, BUT THAT'S FOR ANOTHER TIME.

(Note: Canon says, "We buried Bumble and came home," so... Good job, you guys, you buried her and let her murderer leave without consequence.)

Gray Wing

Side note before I get into this: Gray Wing, according to the Wiki, died at approx. 30 moons old??? Huh???

What I think is worse about Gray Wing than Clear Sky and Tom is that the narrative makes him the good guy. He is not demonized in any way, unlike the two aforementioned toms. While he didn't cause the blood to spill, he defended the murderer.

He looked at a dying cat and thought to himself, "I'm worried that my brother's deserved reputation will plummet further." He pities himself. He doesn't pity Turtle Tail for losing a friend. He doesn't care that someone is dying. There is a sickening lack of empathy.

Gray Wing should be seen for what he's done. His mistakes are there. He has made mistakes that can't be forgiven. Yet, instead of acknowledging it, we're told that he's right. Turtle Tail doesn't even get a voice in the debate, but she's seen as being on the "right side."

Erins, I am begging you to acknowledge that good people can be WRONG. It's okay to have the good people be wrong! Fatal flaws often are so important, because that flaw can also be their greatest shield.

In my mind, Gray Wing's fatal flaw is that he cannot see the flaws within his family. He blames others when things get out of hand. Deep down, he knows how wrong he is, but he swears to himself that family could never lie to him despite being lied to again and again. This stems from the rough life he led and everything going on.

We never see his father mentioned. Being fatherless doesn't excuse one's actions (this is coming from someone whose biological father is unknown), but is can help to explain them. My personal take is that, shortly after Quiet Rain got pregnant, Gray Wing's father lost his life due to a lack of prey. The death hit Gray Wing in the gut because he didn't expect to lose someone so quickly. Then, losing Fluttering Bird on top of his father made him protective of those he considers family.

Although, he definition of protective is toxic. He thinks protecting is constantly forgiving. He thinks protecting is hating anyone who breaks his happy life apart. He thinks protecting is loving without a second thought.

With all of this talk of Gray Wing, I think it's time we see into his head.

Was I Wrong?

Blame.

Does it truly settle onto his shoulders?

Gray Wing rolls over in his nest. He gathered the moss today and made sure to fluff it, yet it feels as if a thousand burrs are clinging to it. An anxious sigh pours out of his maw as Turtle Tail's furious face comes to mind. His paw gingerly touches where the spit had flown onto. It stings more than when he's left wheezing and straining to breathe.

He screws his eyes shut, hoping that it'll block out the intrusive thoughts beginning to leak into his ears. Instead, it opens the floodgates...

"Is mom going to come home tonight?" Sparrow Fur asks, ducking her head. She prods the plump mouse laying at her paws as a hopeful expression perks up on her face. "Owl Eyes and I were super lucky to catch this and I..." She trails off and glances off to the side.

In her place, Owl Eyes pipes up with, "We thought it would be a good meal to give to her! Since... Since mom's been sad."

Gray Wing's heart sinks into his chest as he looks at the pair. The hope in their eyes is fading with every moment of silence that passes. Pain tightens in his chest. That kittypet's death has left a horrible mark on life. He always wanted her to be out of their life, but...

"I found some!" Pebble Heart suddenly cuts in, a slight smile on his face. It looks as though he got stung by a bee as one cheek is swollen. "Where's mom? I want to give her the honey I found."

Owl Eyes glances up at Gray Wing before sighing. "She's not coming." He bluntly states, his claws digging into the ground. His shoulders hunch over as a whimper pries itself from his lips. "She's not coming because..." He looks up at Gray Wing, an uncharacteristic amount of disdain in his eyes.

Gray Wing stiffens as the claws of panic dig into his pelt. Before he can stammer out a question, the three all share the same heartbroken expression before turning away. His jaw drops and hardens into that position. All he can grasp is that his paws are shaking and the world is whirling.

First it was Turtle Tail being upset, then his kits...

His gut twists uncomfortably as his fur heats. A wheezy cough forces itself out of his lungs. The pain, for once, is a comforting force and it dulls the unwanted questions prowling in his mind. Yet the pain fades away too quickly, like it was only a burr that had been ripped out.

All he was saying is the truth. Clear Sky said that it was a fox. It must have been an odd fox is all. One who treated its prey like a chew toy then ran off...

"When did you get fleas for brains, Gray Wing?" Jagged Peak, who used to stare up at him with admiration, snarls. "He's selfish. Clear Sky isn't an innocent kit you can!-"

Tall Shadow's tail swishes over Jagged Peak's muzzle. "Enough." She meows, her voice growing stony. "Gray Wing, we have much to discuss." With those few words, she bows her head and pads off to the side.

The nest irritates his skin enough to bring him to his paws. It isn't wrong of him to believe his littermate. Clear Sky is his flesh-and-blood. Even if there have been some... issues... with how Clear Sky is doing things, he just needs another chance to be believed.

Clear Sky must be hurting. It takes time to heal wounds and forgiveness makes them heal faster.

Gray Wing steps out of his den, letting the biting winds blow against his fur. He focuses his gaze onto the starry night sky as a soft sigh parts from his lips.

Clear Sky has lost many cats. He too lost a father and sister back in the mountains. On their journey, he lost his mate and unborn kits. Then, when he came here, he lost another mate and kits... It's been a struggle for Thunder, his only remaining kit, and him to connection.

"Every cat suffers, Gray Wing." Wind Runner's chiding voice rings in his ears. She had hissed those words softly before stalking away in silence. At the time, he stared after her in confusion, but now he can hear his own mind add onto her sentence.

Suffering isn't an excuse to be evil.

He digs his claws into the ground, his heart aching deeply. What would Quiet Rain say if she learned of everything Clear Sky has done? Surely, she would understand, right? Clear Sky... It's another world here. The logic of the forest is different than the mountains.

Drawing back her lips, Turtle Tail yowls, "Excuses! All you're good for is excuses!"

"I don't make excuses." He mutters, but he can hear his tone faltering as he watches ugly gray clouds begin to cover the pale full moon. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forces his head down. "Clear Sky is a good cat. He isn't... He isn't clouded with evil."

Gray Wing says, yet his brother abandoned his son. He abandoned Thunder. There are many monsters in the forest, but...

His mouth grows dry as every word he said about Clear Sky rings in his mind. He never gives those excuses or help to others.

Not even to a cat seeking - no, begging for - their aid.

Yet to Clear Sky, he keeps giving and giving despite his brother only being capable of taking.

Though... Could he have really been so wrong...? He has always thought of himself as wise, but does reality disagree with him?

A wise cat would have probably realized by now that Turtle Tail was suffering. Her eyes, despite the hate burning within them, were glossy and despairing. If he stayed a moment longer, he is sure she would have torn his pelt off.

She wasn't the cat I fell in love with.

He cringes at the sneering thought haunting his brain. His ears flatten and he swiftly shakes his head, trying to shoo it away. No, she is. It's just... She has hit a rough patch...

"If that kittypet died some..." The words die in his throat as his eyes snap open. He stares down at his trembling paws. Life drains from his body. Everything shrinks around him, pulling him away from the warmth of his pelt.

"Or is it because it's better for you if Bumble is dead?" Turtle Tail's words echo in his ears.

Every little sound surrounding him makes him want to scream. The cicadas are too noisy. The crickets are annoying. The breathing of the cats in the camp is overwhelming. No. He doesn't want to hear it.

It's not what he wanted.

He just wanted to give Turtle Tail the love she deserved. He does love her! He loves... He loves Turtle Tail, alright? That's all there is to it. She's very precious to him. Her kits are his kits now.

For a cat who says he loves her, an instructive voice in his head starts with a sneer, You never asked if she's okay. You never asked at all. Not a single time.

First off: I would 100% follow an au blog following this, Second off: Thanks anon!, Third off: Holy shit wait how did I not catch that bit about the daffodils, anon you genius

Dotc is the poorest excuse of an arc I've ever had the misfourtune of learning about. You're right, that line where it's BUMBLE apologizing to TURTLETAIL and not the other way around sucks ass, I don't know which writer thought that was a good idea to write in after what TurtleTail did. You stuck to canon in a way with the ClearSky bit, yes, but the thing is is that we aren't seeing this through GreyWing's pov and thus we don't get those bullshit little moments where GreyWing is like "Oh no people won't like my brother now :( oh.. boohoo". So the scene is not at all infuriating to read, unlike the canon scene, this version's narrative does not try to pity ClearSky in any way. The writers really did not know what to do with TurtleTail, they completely fucked up her writing and make her unlikable all of a sudden, destroying her friendship with Bumble for… no reason. I don't want to extend this bit too much so I'll just end this part off with this: Yeah GreyWing is such a piece of shit.

So already off to a great start, gotta love seeing that asswipe not being able to relax himself and his mind. As much as I hate GreyWing, it's good to see that the story and writing isn't anti-adoption just as the canon books are, the text acknowledges the three cats as his children instead of pulling a "Tom is our REAL father and not GreyWing despite the latter looking after us all of our lives. GreyWing will NEVER be our father because we aren't biologically related and that matters apparently.". I love how the text "All he was saying is the truth. Clear Sky said that it was a fox. It must have been an odd fox is all. One who treated its prey like a chew toy then ran off…" comes across as it directly telling us what GreyWing is thinking about. But even then, both the text and GreyWing struggle to find truth in those words that ClearSky had stated, unlike the canon where GreyWing blindly believes him and doesn't second guess. Some of the bits also make us acknowledge GreyWing's fatal flaw in his character, that he's too much of a spineless coward to even doubt ClearSky because he believes that their biological familial relationship is most important if that makes sense. All characters in the series believe that blood relations is everything which then leads into the anti-adoption messages (See how TurtleTail's three kids suddenly do a 180 on how they feel about Tom when they learn he is their biological father). But this is a fault of the writers. GreyWing is spineless and can't/doesn't want to admit that his brother is a monster, over and over again, to the point where it ends up getting people killed.

"Suffering isn't an excuse to be evil." this is something that feels as though this is directly talking to us, the readers. To criticize those who believe that those who have suffered one way or another is some kind of excuse to - in ClearSky's case - start wars that kill plenty of cats, humilate and mock the injured, and attack a defenseless, starving kittypet. GreyWing is foolish to think that anybody would try to even attempt to understand ClearSky, with all of the pain he's caused, GreyWing needs to learn this somehow. That is his flaw. He silently denies to himself that he is trying to make excuses for ClearSky because his mind truly believes that this cat - a cat who's responsible for the death of many cats- isn't "clouded by evil". GreyWing needs to realize the truth. And he finally does. What's also a flaw in him is that he now only realizes that ClearSky is awful because of one cat who he is related to, Thunder. As if the plentiful array of deaths of the innocent wasn't proof enough, GreyWing only seems to care about it when he is affected in some kind of way. He realizes ClearSky is horrible, yes, but the way he goes about realizing this yet again shows us that he only cares about something bad if it affects him in some way. The text implies towards this, and it's great and relieving to read. Though for GreyWing, it's a step in the right direction as he realizes his fault of making up excuse after excuse for his war-mongering brother and only his brother, not anybody else. God, and the line that mocks GreyWing's title of "GreyWing the Wise" is so fucking clever and brilliant, "A wise cat would have probably realized by now that Turtle Tail was suffering." Goddamn and then it feels like right after that, GreyWing is trying to pull some kind of guilt attempt in his mind with the "She wasn't the cat I fell in love with.", as if she has changed in a negative way, yet again, another flaw with him. Everything GreyWing has ever excused and defended is like it all hits him hard like he's being struck by a train and it causes distress in him. "It's not what he wanted." like he is talking to himself in third person, but if he did not want that to happen, then why didn't he step in and defend Bumble, why did he let the poor kittpet be escorted out and back to a place of abuse? Because GreyWing is spineless and selfish. The instructive voice in his head is right, if he loved TurtleTail, then why did he never ask if she was okay. Perhaps, he doesn't love her.

This is such an interesting entry in this entire line of stories, we get a perspective of the worst main character in the series, and the text knows this too. It criticizes him and his thoughts, pointing out his fatal personality flaws and his urge to immediately defend his horrible brother, because he believes that their blood relation is everything, that he NEEDS to defend his biological brother. This is cowardly and the text knows it. GreyWing is still able to brush off even TurtleTail's feelings when Bumble had died, only ever caring about how ClearSky felt. It's like we are reading canon GreyWing, except this time, and thankfully this time, the text does not support him, it is against him. Once again Anon, you've done something really great and interesting here, I've said this plenty of times and I'll say it plenty more.

#blimbo rambles #ask #sorry if there's grammatical errors I'm a little tired #abuse tw #abuse mention #once again if you need anything else tagged just let me know

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nefkyo · 2 years

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I had a dream we got new Fundy lore, and it was... Very Fundy™ style.

It took place in a wooden cabin. Yogurt was a baby zombie with the sprite of a snow fox in little overalls, running around the cabin's living room. Eventually he jumped on the couch and he got in the sleeping position of a normal fox, just with his eyes open. In was kinda creepy. A few moments later Fundy walked in the living room and sat down next to him, and HE TALKED. YOGURT TALKED. But it wasn't like there was someone controlling the mob live, it didn't even sound like Fundy voiced him. The things he said sounded like pre-recorded voice lines on a soundboard. And Fundy would just reply and talk to him like it was normal.

I don't remember much else, I think Wilbur showed up eventually and Fundy started fighting him? Like a full on fistfight? In front of Yogurt?

Anyways if any of these things make it into canon I want some recognition lmao

#mcyt #fundy #wilbur soot #wilbur mcyt #fundy lore #wilbur lore #dsmp lore #dsmp

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mortifiedandawesome · 2 years

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At work-

Someone who is obviously struggling with their operations: [frustrated complaints of simple things they are having a hard time to grasp]

Me: (because despite decades of learning and lessons paid for dearly where obviously I should just not attempt to socialize with barely acquainted people who think typing in a web address means the president of the company knows you're trying to access information 'how come j.p. moneyscaffold III didn't sign these papers in my desk?') [relates complaints of frustration I had in a manner which indicates compassion and implies hopefulness that it is a difficulty you can overcome JUST FOR SOME BULLSHIT REASON I WAS CURSED WITH A FEELING OF OPTIMISM TOWARDS OTHER INDIVIDUALS DESPITE LOADS AND LOADS OF PROOF OTHERWISE.]

(a different person): [asks me a work related question in regards to what I think about something]

Me: [replies to the second person. Adds, oh by the way, I've been doing a couple of B projects, have you gotten any?]

First person: (alarmed) WHAT!! YOU CAN'T DO THEM! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO NOT DO THEM! THEY GOTTA GO TO BOB! OR LINDSAY! You gotta tell Enid or Darryl or Shauna! We're not supposed to Do The B Projects!

Me and 2nd person just looks at each other.

(it is obvious why first person was told not to do B projects, and although I am not sometimes the smartest oven mitt in the nail gun, I don't think the ringing noise is coming from my mouse, either.)

And the conversation would have ended there after second person and I tried to gloss it over, but first person was alarmed enough to discuss the situation with a different supervisor.

It... Had nothing to do with them. And the answer was the impolite one that the second person and I tried to avoid saying directly to the first person.

Not exactly a foe in waiting, but I don't think they'll be around too much longer. Sheesh.

I do wish they were rude and not nice however, but I don't exactly care for tattletales even if they arent total awful beasts. Usually my encounters are with total awful beasts so normally there would have been a lot of typing about how I can't wait for them to get the can.

I've been around so many can-ready fools that never got the can, it's embarrassing.

We train sick toddlers to steal bird eggs from foxes who just stole bird eggs.

It's a family company™.

#mortifedandawesome #call today for a quote #or sexy party #05032022 #toddler inquiries dial klondike 75

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bowlofsoob · 7 months

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LOVER BOY™

yeonjun x gender neutral reader

for extra money an ai company pays yeonjun to roleplay as a boyfriend on one of their fake dating apps since they can’t afford to have a proper ai. it’s easy money but you drive him over the edge when you keep begging for esex.

nsfw is skippable!! content warnings — semi public sex, hickeys, biting, blowjobs, untouched cumming, degrading, leashes, grinding, oral sex, top yeonjun

notes; my attempt at gender neutral smut, when he’s fucking you it can be…yk either 🐱 or 🍑…wtv u want! 🤞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

You try to busy yourself with packing away your things as you feel Yeonjun approach your seat, but it was to no avail because your palms were far too sweaty to do anything. Before you knew it his knuckles were knocking the table before you and causing you to look up into his eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, a sly smirk on his lips as he leans down to get to your level, “You free?”

You could only manage a nod as he grins at your reply. Without a warning he grabs ahold of your backpack and swings it on his shoulder, his own bag on his other one.

“Let’s go,” he hums as he starts walking ahead of you.

“You don’t have to carry my shit,” you insist, catching up to him as you both walk out the building together. A few people stare, which reminds you of how well-known Yeonjun is around campus.

“I want too,” he hums, leading you down a walkway and towards the parking lot, “Did you drive to class?”

“No,” you frown, “I walked, I don’t have a car.”

“I’ll give you a ride from now on, yeah?” he hums, unlocking a nearby car and tossing your bags into the back seat of it. He pulls open the passenger door for you with a bow and gestures you inside.

“Y/n,” he says, locking the doors once he tucks himself inside, “Sounds good on my tongue.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“Where are we heading?” you ask instead, nervously putting on your seatbelt. You were so close to him and your texts from the last few nights circled around your mind.

“Arcade?” Yeonjun asks, tapping his fingers on the wheel, “I haven’t been in a while,” he smiles, looking over at you.

“Sounds fun,” you agree, settling into your seat as Yeonjun pulled out of the parking spot.

The arcade he took you to was one of the bigger ones, but the lot was completely empty apart from a few stranded cars that presumably belonged to the workers.

You both made your way inside, Yeonjun holding the door open for you as you marveled at the interior. The carpeted floor held abstract designs and the sounds of the whirring machines filled your ears. You felt nostalgic as Yeonjun put some money into one of the machines and pulled out two loaded cards for you.

“Where should we start?” he asked you, holding up the token cards you guys would use to play the games between his fingers, a smile tilting his lips.

You pointed to the racing games, already bounding over and tucking yourself into a chair.

Yeonjun swiped the cards for you and the game lit up as the seats you were sitting on came to life. You gripped the steering wheel as the animations started and you and Yeonjun laughed at one another whenever he drove off the digital road.

The day was spent trying to win every colorful game Yeonjun’s greedy eyes landed upon and pouting when he inevitably lost. He had lost his skill after not playing for years, or at least that’s what he told you.

You, on the other hand, were hitting the jackpot with every game and were on a winning streak when you guys emptied out your cards' digital tokens.

“Do you wanna recharge them?” Yeonjun asked, gesturing to the cards.

“It’s alright, your ego can’t take any more losses,” you laughed as you guys wandered over to the prize counter. You didn’t have an interest in any of the candy but Yeonjun did reach out to pet the plush fox sitting atop one of the shelves tagged with a price of 5,000 tickets.

“I wanna take it home,” he smiled, pinching the fox’s ears before kneeling down to look in the glass cases and its prizes. You didn’t have a big desire to use your tickets on anything so while he was admiring a giant chocolate bar you gestured to the worker to take the plush down for you. You tapped on Yeonjun’s shoulder and handed it to him.

He looked down and made a rounded o shape with his lips at the fox staring back at him. Yeonjun had a flushed look on his face as he stared down at it.

“Thank you,” he smiled, and you laughed, finding amusement in Yeonjun’s embarrassment.

“We’re even now,” you assured as you both exited the arcade building. The staff bid them farewell as they did so. You made a mental note to post about it later but the only pictures you had were ones of you and Yeonjun in the photobooth.

The two of you made your way back to Yeonjun’s car in the empty parking lot, tucking yourselves into the seats. Yeonjun sat the fox plush in the backseat, which garnered a smile out of you as you started up the heater.

The sky was a dull grey and the air was humid as they waited for the heater to kick in. The R&B streaming out of the car’s speakers almost lulled you to sleep until you noticed the pitter-patter of water against the car’s windows.

“Seems like we’ll be stuck here for a while,” you observed, watching as the rain droplets dripped down the window’s exterior.

“Are you okay with waiting it out?” Yeonjun asked, pulling up the weather forecast on his phone, “I can ask someone to pick us up if you want.”

“It’s alright,” you assured, waving him off, “I’d rather wait it out with you.”

“Alright,” Yeonjun replied, putting his phone away.

You watched as Yeonjun undid his seatbelt, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt as the car had started to grow humid from the rain. You swallowed at the flash of a collarbone that was now exposed.

“Eyes are up here,” Yeonjun chuckled, his breathing slow and reverent. You felt his chest tighten.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your teeth digging into your lips as you felt yourself grow hot. The sweater vest you wore was not helping.

“If we’re going to be here for a while, you should get more comfortable,” Yeonjun suggested, reaching over to undo your seatbelt, his hands lingering on your chest.

You reached out to grab Yeonjun’s palm, enclosing it in your right hand. You didn’t say anything as you caressed the other’s hands, feeling your anxiety wash away with the rain. Spending the day with the male your harbored feelings for had lessened the nerves prickling around your body.

You stare, watching Yeonjun’s face like it was the prettiest art piece in a gallery. The gentle dip of his nose and his angular chin, along with the dark hair that adorned his head that fell in strands from its original style due to their long day at the arcade. He was breathtaking.

Yeonjun was snarky and playful when they both grew overly competitive while playing children’s arcade games, but now he sat still, waiting for your next move.

You move your head down and bring Yeonjun’s hand to your lips. You both make brief eye contact before your lips meet Yeonjun’s palm, trailing kisses alongside it before bringing the index and middle finger into your mouth.

Yeonjun’s gaze hardened as you swirl your tongue around them and pulled your lips back, a trail of saliva in its wake.

Yeonjun moves his hand from your grasp to grab the back of your neck, tugging you close. Both of your eyes met for a second before your lips met. His kisses weren’t gentle but they weren’t rough, it was possessive to an extent and it had you tugging on Yeonjun’s hair.

The position was awkward with their bodies angled towards one another, but that didn’t matter since all you could focus on was the pair of lips moving against your own.

“Fuck, hold on,” Yeonjun muttered as he pulled back, moving his hand beside your seat and pushing the lever to recline it back before he climbed atop you.

You snaked your hands around Yeonjun and brought him onto your lap as your lips met once again, your hands sneaking under Yeonjun’s shirt and caressing his lower back.

Yeonjun’s hand moved to his hair and pulled off the hair tie holding his hair together and let you run your hands through it, tugging on it as his lips moved to your neck.

You bucked your hips up in response, a gasp leaving your lips as Yeonjun raked his teeth along your neck and used his free hand to grip your waist.

Yeonjun bit down and that was all it took for your to tilt your head back, eyes practically at the back of your head as the pleasure surged through you. The pain felt blissful.

Yeonjun hummed, licking his lips across the bite mark before bringing his head back up.

“Seems I’ve found out just exactly what you like,” he drawled, bringing his free hand to your’s neck and hardening his grip, “You like to feel a little pain, don’t you?”

You answered with a moan escaping your lips, your eyes falling shut as the hand on your waist kneaded its knuckles into your skin.

“How bad do you want this?” Yeonjun mused, his voice a shadow of his usual condescending tone.

“I want you,” you breathe, a heat pooling in your stomach as Yeonjun unbuttoned your jeans with expertise. It had you a bit envious to see him do it so quickly but that feeling quickly dispersed when you felt Yeonjun’s warm hand palm your sex over your boxers. Your cheeks were now felt flushed as he looked down at you.

Impatience grew between the both of you and Yeonjun pressed his lips against yours once again while simultaneously palming you. The ring hanging on Yeonjun’s lips felt cold against your own as Yeonjun tilted his head. you opened your mouth as you felt the air hit your nether region, Yeonjun had pulled your boxers down.

Yeonjun pulled away and shoved his fingers roughly into your mouth without warning, the tips of his fingers just reaching the back of your throat.

“Spit,” he ordered, Yeonjun’s hand still getting you off.

It felt odd to be the one being given orders, but you didn’t push it away as you did as you were told. Once again, a string of saliva left your lips as Yeonjun pulled his fingers away. Instead of bringing it down to your hole immediately, he brought it to his lips, Yeonjun’s tongue licking around his own fingers and the remnants of your saliva while maintaining eye contact.

Within a blink, the fingers were inside you and your body surged with pain as two fingers went in and out of you. Your hands gripped the seat’s armrests as Yeonjun didn’t show you any mercy and quickened his pace, head coming down to suck the skin on your neck.

You bucked your hips up as Yeonjun’s fingers went in and out, matching your rhythm. Your right hand found Yeonjun’s back as you attempted to steady yourself.

Your neck was littered with Yeonjun’s marks as the other male lifted his head once more, inserting a third finger with a gleam in his eyes.

Your jeans and boxers were pooled by your feet and you felt on display as you were surrounded by windows, but you didn’t care at all as the pain seamlessly transformed to pleasure.

You reached down to use your free hand to help yourself release, body jerking this way and that as Yeonjun had to keep you pinned down which only made you go faster.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Yeonjun teased, lifting his lips from your’s neck and removing your hands from yourself. Yeonjun removed his fingers from your hole, much to your dismay, and dragged them along your cheek, your juices staining your face.

“Let’s try this,” Yeonjun hummed, “Arms above your head,” he instructed you who followed suit. Yeonjun pulled at your top and yanked it over your shoulders so your bare chest was exposed. He marveled at the sight of your erected nipples for a second before he pulled the seatbelt from the top of the car down and wrapped it around the headrest and consecutively your arms. He tied it in a knot before nodding to himself.

“Stay still like the good whore you are,” Yeonjun smiled, inserting his fingers once more, you could only buck his hips up in desperation for any friction. You felt your hole tighten around Yeonjun’s fingers and a feeling rise from his lower region.

“I’m gonna cum, Yeonjun,” you groaned, the material of the seat belt digging into your skin. Your eyes fell shut as you felt Yeonjun slow down his pace.

“I can't have you do that so quickly,” Yeonjun murmured, removing his fingers slick with your insides and moving his hands to his own pants. He removed his belt with ease, the leather gripped in his hands as Yeonjun only pushed his pants down far enough for his cock to come out.

Yeonjun got down on his knees, the seat being pushed far enough back for him to comfortably sit, and spread your’s legs open.

“Have to prepare your tight hole,” he murmured, his head in between your legs. You felt his tongue slide up your thigh, leaving a trail of kisses until Yeonjun reached your hole. His tongue swirled the edge, slowly and knowingly, as your let out a cry of pleasure. The feeling only increased when Yeonjun traced a wet circle around the rim just before he dipped his tongue in.

Before your could release right then and there Yeonjun removed his mouth from your sex and sat back up, crawling atop you and lining his cock with your hole.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun groaned as he slid in, his cock inside you. The tip of his hard cock made contact with your entrance, unprotected.

Your wrists were burned from the seatbelt due to how much you were tugging, but you couldn’t control yourself. Yeonjun let himself simply sit inside you as you grew used to the feeling, not thrusting just to edge you even more.

“Are you gonna be good for me and be loud?” Yeonjun asked, taking his belt from the floor of the car and snaking it around your neck.

“Yes,” you whimpered as Yeonjun clasped the belt around your neck. He grabbed the loose end and used it as a leash to tug on it and bring your head closer to him.

“Good,” Yeonjun praised, one hand on the belt and the other on your waist, “Nice and loud.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Yeonjun was pulling out only to slam right back in again. He rocks back and forth as he does so, his nails digging into your bare waist. It was difficult to control yourself when Yeonjun was buried so deeply inside of you.

You moaned in arpeggios as Yeonjun lifted himself out of you once again, his tip trailing the inside of your thigh only to thrust back into him again. It was rough and harsh, just like you preferred it to be.

“I’m gonna fill you up at this rate,” Yeonjun muttered, bucking your hips up to meet Yeonjun’s with every thrust, “You’re ruining me.”

Your head was tugged from the belt Yeonjun held in his hands, your guys’ faces a mere inch away from each other when Yeonjun locked your lips together. You felt the taste of metal as Yeonjun’s tongue explored your mouth, the knowledge of the male above you having a hidden piercing only fueled you more.

You could feel your orgasm nearing since your hole was tightening around Yeonjun’s dick. You were just a hole at that moment and would let Yeonjun do whatever he wanted to you at that point. The sounds of skin on skin filled the car as the windows steamed up from the heat inside.

He pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your guys’ lips, as Yeonjun’s head tilted back.

“I’m gonna fill you up to the brim,” was the last thing you heard as Yeonjun rode out his orgasm. Your hole clenched as you felt warmth ooze inside of you, causing your eyes to fall shut and legs to tremble.

Yeonjun slowly pulled his cock out of your hole, cum spilling out as Yeonjun wrapped his palm around his own cock to get the excess cum off. Once his fingers were covered in white he reached up to shove his fingers into your swollen lips.

You were in a daze as you tasted Yeonjun upon his tongue, swallowing every last bit as Yeonjun tucked his cock back into his pants before looking down at your lower region.

“I can’t allow your filthy cum to get on my seats,” Yeonjun slurred as he leaned towards you while inserting two of his fingers into your hole, “It costs far too much, how would I explain that to the cleaners?”

Yeonjun snickered as he pushed in the cum threatening to spill out of you with his fingers, “Would I tell them my little slut creamed all over my car?”

You cried out at the overstimulation instead of responding, not like you would be able to since your mind was clouded. Yeonjun’s words only sent trembles up your spine and down to your privates which were wetter than before if that was even possible.

“Excited…again? Already?” Yeonjun asked, looming over you, “I didn’t know you were this easy.”

“Please,” you whined, wanting to use your own hands to finish yourself off. The stimulation was too much for you.

“You didn’t get to cum yet, think of this as your reward,” Yeonjun said, removing his fingers and grinding against your sex.

Yeonjun’s hips moved fast and it didn’t take much for you to release right into his lap. You were ashamed at how quickly it had taken you but your crush just had that effect on you.

“A little pathetic how quickly you came,” Yeonjun scoffed, dragging his palms sullied with your cum across your chest, “Are you that much of a whore?”

You could only nod as the sticky substance dripped along your skin, your sex drained as Yeonjun cleaned off his fingers, each one leaving a resounding pop. He dragged his fingers across your chest and swirled them around your nipples, moistening them before pulling back.

“I think you should sit in your mess until you get home,” Yeonjun smiled, reaching down to grab your boxers and pants that were pooled around your legs and hoisting them up.

You swallowed as Yeonjun pulled your jeans up and buttoned them for you and you could feel your wet sex against the fabric of your boxers. You were still full of Yeonjun’s cum and it felt warm as you squirmed around in your seat.

Unlike the sex they just had, Yeonjun was gentle with the way he untied the seatbelt adorning your wrists and rubbed at the red ring now encircling his hands from them. The belt around your neck left red marks along with the love bites littering your skin, it felt sore but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Sorry,” Yeonjun apologized as he buckled his belt around his waist, proceeding to lift your top from the ground, “Looks like it’ll take a while to heal.”

“Don’t be, I quite liked it,” you assured as you pulled the shirt over yourself as Yeonjun maneuvered himself over back to the driver’s seat, fixing up his disheveled hair in the mirror.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yeonjun drawled as he turned the radio down, the window finally clearing up as he rolled them down.

“Looks like the rain has stopped,” you observed while you fixed your collar, the marks on your neck would need to be hidden for the next few days.

“I guess I should take you home,” Yeonjun nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“Yeah,” was all you said before you felt a hand caress his thigh.

Yeonjun held a small smile on his face as he proceeded to pull out of the parking lot with one hand on the wheel, a flustered you beside him. You could only bite your tongue as a multitude of dirty thoughts once again raced through your mind. But getting into a car crash because you wanted to get fucked again was not one of your kinks.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐་༘

#txt smau #txt x reader #yeonjun smau #yeonjun drabble #yeonjun headcanons #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x gender neutral reader #txt x gender neutral reader

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fortheloveofexy · 2 years

Note

I saw your post about Andreil going as a couple to the banquets, so now I'm curious. Do you have any headcanons about "banquet Andreil™" ?

Sorry it took me a minute to reply to this, things got a bit busy again! I have a few, here we go:

Most of the banquet, they're sequestered off to the side, talking to each other quietly. Neil watches the other teams, and Andrew watches Neil.

That changes, of course, the minute the Ravens walk in

Without their so-called King, they're even surlier and ruder than before.

Andreil automatically close ranks around Kevin, like two pint-sized bodyguards. Neither is obligated to, anymore, but old habits die hard, and neither of them likes how uneasy Kevin gets around his former teammates.

When they're not busy staring down grumpy birdies, Andrew is raiding the dessert table

Neil just barely stops him from sticking his hand into the chocolate fountain

(He is a good boyfriend, though, and offers to carry more sweets in his pockets once Andrew's are full)

Neil gets into arguments with nearly every other team he interacts with, save the Trojans. Andrew finds it highly amusing.

Andrew, of course, refuses to talk with anyone who isn't a Fox. It's the principle of the thing.

Neil keeps fidgeting with his tie. Andrew has to slap his hands away multiple times and fix it for him

Neither of them care for the banquets, but they make the best of it.

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #asks #ask jess #aftg headcanons #andreil headcanons

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nursegracecreates · 2 years

Text

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕷𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘

AN: Characters excluding Reader, Natty, Darcey, and Sara are copyrighted characters belonging to Laurell K. Hamilton in her series Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter. Any characters besiding my OCs are of her creation, including the club Danse Macabre and Coat Check Girl™.

Title taken from "The Sharpest Lives" by My Chemical Romance

Reader x Damien one shot

Triggers/Notes: Damien is a vampire has a complex history with a lot of trauma caused by his old master, his maker. Due to that trauma, Damien is strictly heterosexual. I won't write him in a same sex scenario, even for someone as simple as blood donation, as that is not canon for him. Sorry guys, he's not even close to healthy enough to consider close contact with men. That being said, Damien will allude to his past a little. It's sad. But just the tip of the iceberg.

Word Count: 1,151

You entered the club with wide eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darker setting. Your friends had decided you were in need of a night out and now you were entering the city's newest nightclub, Danse Macabre.

You knew nothing about the club, and honestly weren't into the whole dance club scene but... your friends assured you that this club was different, a once in a lifetime experience. However, they'd told you nothing more. Instead they'd only giggled and frustratingly told you that you'd have to wait to find out.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you were in a lobby of sorts. It was decorated in a minimalistic, but sophisticated way, all dark reds, purples and black. There was a coat check with a sign that read, "Please check all holy items here. No exceptions."

'Holy items?' you thought, confused by the oddity of the request, 'Is there some kind of vampire gimmick I didn't know about?'

You sighed as your group approached the counter, unclasping the chain to your holy pendant, going along with it, not wanting to make a fuss.

"Name please?" the check girl asked in a friendly way as you laid your jacket and necklace on the counter.

"Reader" you replied, "but why check holy items? Can't we just hide them under our clothes or put them in our pocket?"

The girl was still smiling as she shook her head, "Nope! Gotta check em here for the full experience." She blew a bubble with the gum she was chewing and sucked it back in, making the gum pop. You sighed and pushed your things to her, taking the ticket with your name on it with a heart next to it.

You put the ticket in your pocket and followed your friends, who hadn't checked anything, like they knew not to bring anything checkable in. How suspicious.

They led you down a short hall with double doors at the end, which was blocked by two bouncers, literal walls of muscle. They were dressed exactly the same, black t-shirts tucked into black dress pants, black belt, silver buckle. But that was where the similarity ended.

One would be your regular tall, dark and handsome, if it weren't for the dark chocolate smoothness of his skin, and the exotic tilt to his eyes. High wide cheekbones were complimented by a strong jaw and he somehow made midnight black eyes look warm. His hair fell in braids down to his ribs, with red and black beads woven in at the ends, a glint of small, silver cuffs here and there. He smiled down at your group with his arms crossed over his chest.

The other bouncer was also big, but not as tall, making him look stocky. His skin was oddly tinted, like he was naturally tan, but hadn't been outside for a long time. His eyes were copper colored and his features made you think of a fox. His hair was dark, but had been tinted so it had a wine colored cast to it, and it was cut so the top was longer, almost shaved on the sides. Though he smiled with his arms crossed too, something about him made your hind brain scream, "Warning!" And then you saw it.

They must have some pretty dedicated employees because the shorter guard had fangs. Either they'd been filed to look like that, or they were damn good fakes. Definitely a vampire theme.

"Okay" he said, his voice pleasantly deep, with a lilting Cockney accent, "you lot know the drill."

"Of course, Faust" one of your friends giggled, not sounding like herself at all. She pulled her ID out of her tiny clutch purse and handed it to him, her fingers lingering unnecessarily on his during the exchange.

Faust gave her a sparing smile but peeled her fingers away, turning his attention to you as you presented your ID from your pocket. He read it and handed it back to you, still smiling and you moved out of the way for the next person.

Your other friends were flirting with the taller man, one even playing with the end of his braid as they smiled up at him as if he hung the moon.

"It was great seeing you again, Jamil" your friend crooked as he opened the doors for all of you.

He smiled bashfully as your friend dropped his braid, but his tone was suede smooth as he replied,"A pleasure as always, friends" in a dark bass baritone, his Southern accent sugar sweet. He winked at you as you brushed past him.

The music washed over you, a thick, driving beat, and you were temporarily mesmerized by the flashing, colored lights, right now, a mix of blue, green and white. The room itself was painted all black, strategically placed lights illuminating dark corners and small tables, all surrounding a dance floor, where all the colored lights were trained. There was even a collection of three disco balls suspended from the rafters.

An impossibly huge amount of people danced, gravitating towards the center of the dancefloor, which was situated in front of an elevated stage, which was mostly empty, except the deejay in the corner, almost tucked away. Obviously, they didn't take requests. The dancers were a mix of different clique types, goths, clubbers, average people, all genders, shapes sizes, races and creeds, all mixed together, moving to the music as if it were their last day on Earth. The crowd throbbed with the beat of the music until it came to a startling end, switching to something more relaxed and quiet as the dancers dispersed to tables, the bar area, or through curtained doorways that led to bathrooms and other places like the VIP room, lounges, and employee rooms.

"Come on!" one of your friends said, a little too loud for the music level now, "let's get a table! Natty's going to get drinks!"

True enough, Natty was joining the line of people at the bar, their body swaying with the music. Your other friends pulled you, taking a hand in each of theirs as the two of them pulled you along.

They found an empty booth that had a good view of the entire room, raised up on a small platform. A small light supplied just enough light to illuminate the table. You sat on the outside next to Sara, while Darcy took the seat across from Sara. The three of you waited as the relaxing music played.

A woman with Japanese features was sauntering from table to table, her lithe body encased in a black vinyl catsuit. It hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her high, tight breasts and full hips as she strutted in stiletto heeled boots that went all the way up to the tops of her thighs. Her hair fell in a silken black sheet to her hips as she leaned down onto a table to talk with its occupants. You could have sworn you saw a flash of fang as she smiled like she didn't really mean it.

"I'm going to have a talk with Meng Die" a delicate femine but upbeat voice said and you turned your attention towards it. "She always comes off so cold. Such an ice queen."

At the end of your table, a woman with platinum blonde hair leaned, one hand on the table, the other one her hip. She was delicate like a bird, but stood at around 5'8" in her kitten heels. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and it went well with her ice blue flapper dress. It had all the glitz and glamour of the Roaring Twenties with sequins and beads of all shades of blue, dazzling under the low lighting of the club.

"The names Hannah" she smiled, definitely flashing fang. How odd. A flapper vampire? "Welcome to Danse Macabre, where we can all live forever, just for a night."

She gave a graceful flourish, using the beads of her dress to mesmerize the eye. "Is there anything we can get you? A drink? A dance?"

You understood now. You could dance the night away with someone playing a vampire, living a fantasy for the night, for a price. Your friends had paid your cover tonight, insisting this night was just what you needed after the stress of finals. You'd stay, willing to people watch at least, but wouldn't be buying any dances.

"A friend is getting us drinks" you said, "but we'll let you know if we need anything."

Hannah smiled, those fangs flashing again. They had to be professional grade implants, something along those lines. They looked completely real. "Alrighty then! The floorshow begins in five minutes, and then we'll have general dancing where you can buy a dance with one of us, or find another patron that catches your eye." She gave a wink and headed off to the next table.

As soon as she was at the next table, you turned to Sara and Darcy. "What the hell? Actors dressed like vampires?!"

Sara rolled her eyes, ever the angsty friend, "Just give it a chance! Live a little."

"Besides" Darcy teased, "Natty's paying them for a dance for you. From all of us." She wasn't looking at you as she talked, rather around you and across the way, at one of the other dancers. She sighed "Maybe you'll even get Primo. I swear he's like, a Roman god or something."

Primo indeed looked like a Roman god, strong, carved features and a gladiator's nose, all in a rich tanned brown with dark curls cut close to his head. He wore black dress pants and dress shoes, paired with an orange dress shirt, tucked in with a golden belt buckle. Golden cufflinks shone with rubies the same diameter as pencils as he stiffly chatted with a group of women at their table. You suspected that, like Hannah's flapper dress, that they may be real.

Natty returned with the drinks, face excited as they sat them down and took their seat. They shared a conspiratorial look with Sara and Darcy and Sara sighed, "It's too late, Darcy blew the surprise."

Natty looked at Darcy in disappointment, "Darcy! I wanted to surprise Reader, let them have a moment!"

"No" you said "It's better I know. I'd probably turn them down if I thought they were a random. You never know who comes to places like this."

"You're safe here" Natty reassured you, "Jean Claude owns this place. He watches who's let in."

You nodded, "Thanks anyway. At least now I'll expect to dance with someone tonight. It means a lot to me, you guys doing this." You smiled as Sara and Natty leaned across the table and you pulled Darcy with you as you hugged them as best as you could over the drinks and the table. "You guys are the best."

"We know" Darcey said as if it were common knowledge and the music stopped. The lights went almost completely out, only the table lights staying on.

Just as you were opening your mouth to question Darcy, the stage lights came on, revealing the group of dancing actors. You recognized Primo and Hannah, and the Japanese woman Meng Die. Other dancers you didn't recognize, a tall woman with cafe au lait, a small, slender man with bright yellow, waist length hair and the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. A small, fragile doll-like woman with blonde hair and big brown eyes. A taller figure in the back you couldn't quite make out. All that you could focus on was a spill of bright red hair that fell around them like a cloak.

Music started, primal and pounding and the actors started dancing. They moved with the music like it was a part of them, letting their bodies choose what to do. It must have been what very early dancing, like the kind around bonfires, was done. You watched with your friends, transfixed, as the dancing evolved, becoming more intricate, indicating a passage in era.

That was exactly the theme, a true Dance of the Ages, not that corny fad dance thing. Medieval dance, Renaissance, Baroque; then it started breaking into couples doing individual paired dances. Waltzes, two steps, polkas, the redowa, racket, foxtrot, tango, Charleston. There was a stunning swing section where pairs, regardless of gender swung each other around vigorously to the music, but they made it seem effortless, their chests not even showing a strain in breathing. The dances got more modern, finishing off with a choreographed, synchronized dance to, odd choice, Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie.

At the end, all the clubgoers rose from their resting places, giving a well deserved standing ovation as the colored lights cane up, casting subdued light. The applause continued as both actors and patrons made their way back to the dancefloor and started pairing off. Natty pressed a ticket, one of four, into your hand and you all got out of the booth, your friends hurrying to get a good partner. Slow paced music played as you inspected the crowd, staying on the fringes.

Darcey elbowed her way past a group of women starting to form around Primo, proudly handing him her ticket as he took her in his arms smoothly, turning on the charm, softening his slightly arrogant face. You were happy for her and turned your attention, finding Sara with the man with yellow hair. He was chatting with her in a friendly way as she motioned to his subtle, well done eye makeup.

Natty had found Hannah and was holding the taller woman's frame close, a look of near rapture on their face as Hannah stroked the back of their head tenderly. Everyone seemed happy, at least getting what they paid for.

"Excuse me" a gentle, male voice said from beside you.

You jumped, surprised as you hadn't even noticed him come up. Then you actually saw him.

Tall and lean at over 6'0", the man stood proudly, as if he'd been in the military at some point. But his hair… It fell at least to his lower back in a silken sheet of red. Not dark red, not bright red, it had only looked so in the lights. His hair was the color of fresh blood, and just as thick in its straight length. He wore slate gray dress pants, black dress shoes, a bottle green dress shirt, and a vest that matched the pants. The material of the clothes was all fine, and the cut screamed expensive as well.

But that wasn't the most phenomenal thing about him. He had striking features, delicate yet all male. And his eyes were stunning. Perfectly sized and framed by long lashes, you could tell if the light were better you'd be able to see they would be some unique color.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you" he said, tone still timid as he looked at you. "My master always threatens to put me in bells, so I can't sneak up on her." He laughed, and it was a happy one, like someone who had found a spot of calm in a storm.

"I'm fine, really" you reassured him with a smile, "I just didn't notice you come up, that's all."

The man smiled, "I'm Damien. Would you like to dance?" He nodded at your hand, where you clutched your ticket.

"Um" you said hesitantly, and reminded yourself to go with it. You were supposed to have fun tonight. "Sure, Damien."

Damien smiled, but not too wide. You couldn't tell if there were fangs or not. You supposed it didn't really matter as Damien took your hand, leading you onto the dancefloor. "I'm Reader" you told him.

"Reader" he said, some kind of accent in his voice, but you couldn't quite place it. It sounded like a mixture of Scottish, Irish, and something more harsh, maybe German. "What a charming name. It becomes you."

Damien offered you a shy smile as he took your waist, leading you in a simple two step. You smiled back, feeling utterly comfortable with this stranger.

"Damien is a pretty nice name too" you replied, letting Damien move you as you got a feel for the tempo.

Damien chuckled, "It's not the name I was given at birth, but it serves me well. As of late, it seems to be a fitting name."

You cocked your head as you moved with him, "How so?"

"My master is… Known to be impulsive, quick tempered. Through our bond, I can offer them shelter from their rage."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. What commitment to the role.

"So… You're a… Vampire, too?" you asked doubtfully.

Damien smiled fully then, making sure you saw his fangs. They were even more realistic up close. "Fascinating" you said, more to yourself.

The minutes were filled with easy conversation between you and Damien, and when the song ended, you were sad that you had only been given one dance. Damien must have seen your disappointment because he turned you to point over your shoulder so you could sight down his arm, "Do you see that door? Behind the purple curtain?"

You nodded.

"I enjoyed talking with you, a good conversation partner is hard to come by in his life of work. I get a break after two more dances. Meet me there. If anyone questions you, tell them Damien asked you to come."

You were nodding as he all but disappeared, gone as fast as he'd come. You checked on your friends, who were waiting in line for more dance tickets.

"Do you want another one?" Sara asked, already scoping the crowd for her next dance partner.

You shook your head, "I think I'm gonna get some air." You fanned yourself, "It's a little hot in here."

"Okay" Natty said, "but don't think you're getting out of a few more dances later, girlie."

"Okay" you said, smiling, "I promise."

You left your friends and wound your way through the crowd to the door Damien indicated, looking at pairs of dancers as you passed. You pushed through and found yourself in a hallway, the walls painted a pleasant dusty rose color. There were a couple of comfortable looking chairs there and the lighting was a little brighter. Doors lined the walls, and you could see that they were dressing rooms, as some were left ajar, appearing empty. The door closed and muffled the music to a much more manageable level and you all but collapsed in one of the chairs. You hadn't realized it until now, but the darkness of the club, the heat of all the bodies, the press of the music, it was taking its toll on you. A break was a smart idea.

You let your head fall back as you relaxed in the quieter environment. Tension started leaving your muscles and your skin was cooling off. You were thankful for the black sleeveless top you'd picked, along with the thin materialed black jeans, even if you didn't look as flashy as some of the other clubgoers. You were also thankful for the flats Sara and Natty had helped you pick, knowing your feet would be screaming if you'd gone with the heels Darcey had voted for. They were a little achy even now. But you couldn't ignore that you'd seen what looked like vampire bite marks on the necks of some of the people back there. Maybe…? No, they didn't exist.

Right?

A couple of songs passed, both lasting around 5 minutes, the same amount that yours with Damien had lasted. It just seemed to pass so much faster talking to the mysterious red headed man. You were excited to talk with him more, feeling he didn't do this often.

The door you came through opened and Damien passed through, pulling it closed and leaning tiredly against the wall next to it. You rose from your seat and went to him.

"Damien! Are you okay?!"

Damien nodded, taking a few collecting breaths, "Yes. Yes, I'm alright." He cracked a wan smile, "Sometimes the clients, they drink a little and end up getting… Overzealous." He had the grace to look nonchalant about it, but you noticed two scratch marks on his neck, barely visible over the open collar of his shirt. They were fresh and should have been bleeding more, like they had already sealed up.

"Overzealous, huh?" you laughed a little, "overzealous means scratches?"

Damien laughed outright,a rich, musical sound, "I appreciate your candor. Some of my friends… They're exotic dancers for my bosses' other business." He gave you a sidelong glance, "They go home with bite marks sometimes. And in tender places that would make it uncomfortable for one to sit."

Your eyebrows popped in surprise at the audacity of some people, "Gods, has no one learned about boundaries?"

Damien laughed sadly, "Humans can be cruel. I know, I used to be one. Some of them don't view us as people, but more novelty items, things to bring out to entertain them for a while."

You wanted to chase the sorrow from Damien's face, and noticed when you looked at him in this brighter light, that hos eyes were indeed unique. They were the color of green bottle glass, if light had been shining through one. A true, breathtaking green.

A sense of falling came over you, and the world narrowed down to those green pools. You could drown in them and not even care, just sink down peacefully as you watched the light disappear as you explored their depths.

"Reader?" Damien asked and it sounded far away. You looked up, towards the light and swam in that direction, knowing that the green light would lead you to Damien. "Reader, are you-?" You came back to yourself as Damien looked down at you, holding an arm to keep you from falling, his face lined with worry. "Reader, I'm terribly sorry."

You were confused, "What? What happened? Why apologize?"

Damien smiled gently, still holding your arm, as if he'd forgotten he held it. "My deepest apologies, Reader" Damien said, emotion making his accent deeper, "I fear I almost rolled your mind."

"I don't under- wait… You're actually a vampire, aren't you?"

Damien flinched, his personality starting to recede already, turning inward as he released your arm, "You must think me a monster. And then to almost have your mind rolled. Don't fret, I will leave. Take the time you need to recover."

He turned to leave, but you stopped him, catching his large hand in yours. He was slightly cold, colder than any living person had any business being. "Damien, please don't go" you said softly, and he turned back to you, his timidness back, "I'm not afraid of you and I don't think you're a monster. I just didn't understand what you were." You squeezed his hand gently and gave him a smile, "Now I know to just put up some walls up here. See? Easy fix."

You could meet Damien's eyes now, having put up some mental defenses, and you were sure he was guarded now, too.

Damien smiled, letting out a relieved sigh, "You're very practical, like my master."

"Tell me more about your master, Damien."

Damien took you to what you assumed was his dressing room. More dress shirts hung on hangers on the wall, and some makeup littered the vanity under the mirror. Now that you looked, Damien was wearing a little eye makeup, just enough liner and shadow to accentuate the beauty that was already there. His lashes matched his hair, letting you know it was his natural color.

That genuine smile came back, "She's wonderful, though, sometimes a bit frustrating. Like I said she's very practical, but very impulsive. And there's a deep rage always brewing, just under the surface. But she loves me, our people." He glanced at you and quickly said, "Not in a romantic way… I had hoped, but… Anita has a very complex romantic life. There's not much room for me, as the majority of her partners were men." He looked a little uncomfortable, "Jean Claude, the owner of this club, and Master of this city, was my master before Anita saved me using her necromancy. I owe both of them my life, for my original master would have surely seen my demise." Damien looked around, as if looking for things you couldn't see, "we don't speak of her, my old master, even if she is just a scary story now."

You sat in a chair next to Damien as he did the same after closing the door.

You laid a hand on top of his, "I'm glad you've found a good master. She seems to make you happy."

"She does!" Damien declared, "We've helped each other a lot, along with Nathaniel. They think I should try making more friends."

"You should!" you encouraged, "you seem like a very nice guy."

Damien was quiet, and you looked to him, noticing he was thinking hard about something. You waited and your patience paid off. "Would you… Like to be friends with me?"

Damien looked like he expected you to say no, but, "I don't see why not. Tell me more about yourself. I'm sure your life is vastly more interesting."

Damien did. He told you about his last starting with before he was a vampire. He was a viking, a marauder who had gotten shipwrecked. Meaning Damien was over one thousand years old. The velvet smoking jacket hanging in the corner was authentic. His favorite era was the Victorian era. Apparently, he'd lost his best friend to his first master's madness. You didn't ask more about it, respecting Damien's wishes about speaking of her.

You shared some about you with Damien and he seemed just as intrigued with your life as a student as you were with his as a dancer and vampire. He'd been truthful with you about his unhappiness with his job, not having the emotional energy to deal with the obsessive fans he'd picked up along the way. You supposed even vampires had life problems.

"Are you here with friends?" Damien asked, "We've been back here for quite some time. Do you need to check in with them, lest they be worried?"

You thought about it for a second before nodding, "Yeah, it might not hurt."

Damien nodded and the two of you stood. However, Damien had to sit back down, collapsing into the chair in a graceful heap.

"Damien? What's wrong?" you asked. Somehow he seemed to be paler, his skin now appearing gray instead of the marble white it had been.

"I'm fine" he stammered, looking embarrassed, "I've just not fed tonight, it's nothing. It will pass in a few minutes time."

You warred internally for a second and offered him your wrist, "No, silly, you'll just feed from me."

Damien's eyes fixed on the pulse in your wrist, "No, I couldn't. Jean Claude has donors at home. I can make it until then."

"Damien" you argued, "Don't be obstinate. Take what you need. You look awful."

"I'm sorry my appearance is displeasing to you" he apologized, looking away and frustrating you more.

"Damien, you know that's not what I meant." You touched his face so he looked up at you, "You look like a piece of art. But you also look sick. Your face is growing gaunt before my eyes."

Damien closed his his and sighed, "Damn, Anita must be working." He opened his eyes, "I'm sorry, Reader. To put it shortly, Anita and I are in a triumvirate of power. If she skips a feeding, she starts to drain me, and then her fiance, Nathaniel." His eyes returned to your pulse in your wrist.

"It's okay, Damien" you assured, "it's eating for you, a biological function. You're starving. Let me help."

Damien nodded, putting on a brave face though you could see fear shining in his eyes. His gaze became distant, as if he were listening to voices in his head. "As Master of the City, Jean Claude can supply me with enough power to not just roll your mind, but take the memory completely. Would you like for me to do that for you?"

You stroked Damien's cheek, "Why wouldn't I want to remember helping a friend?"

"It might hurt" he explained, stalling, "I can try to make it feel pleasant for you at least."

You nodded, "That's fine. But don't take my memories of you, Damien. I was looking forward to getting to know you more, and vice versa."

Damien smiled and took your hand. He pulled your arm down so your hand rested on his chest. There was no heartbeat, feeling strange, but that was all. "The wrist is much more painful in healing. I can take from your neck and it won't hurt as badly later. You will have a mark though."

"I'll wear it proudly, knowing I helped" you said and Damien pulled you so you sat on his lap.

"So valiant" he muttered, and tilted your head, baring your big pulse. You felt him inhale close to your neck and then pull away. "Angle is bad" he explained as he lifted you and turned you so you straddled his lap, "I'm sorry for the closeness." he breathed, and his breath smelled of sweet mint.

"It's okay" you breathed, not minding at all. Damien honestly was a beautiful person, inside and out.

"Reader?" Damien asked and you looked into his eyes. And you found yourself falling again.

That calmness came over you again and you relaxed as Damien tilted your head slightly, running his long fingers down the big vein in your neck. You felt both numb and the most alive you'd felt in your whole life. "Are you ready?" Damien asked, his voice both far away, and so close in your ear. You nodded and kept eye contact with him up until he moved in to strike.

To say it didn't hurt would be a lie. But as soon as your pain receptors started to say, 'Nope, too much', the pain twisted into a sweet sting. And then you could feel Damien's mouth working against your throat. He drank in deep but gentle pulls, rubbing your shoulder with his thumb as he held you to him. You could see how one could easily be drained to death with a smile on their face and hoped Damien knew when to stop. Surely after a thousand years and some change?-

Damien released your throat, pulling back enough to lick at the wound with slow, lazy strokes. He opened his eyes and they were soft focused and he looked a little drunk. You looked in the mirror and two small puncture marks rested over your jugular. There was already bruising starting around it.

"Thank you" Damien sighed, and for moment, it sounded like other voices overlayed his. Two male voices, one young and American, one older and French. And a woman's voice, grateful but confident, a leader.

"You're very welcome" you smiled at Damien as he slowly collected himself.

Damien smiled, his grin boyish as he stood, "Anita, Jean Claude and Nathaniel express their gratitude. And so do I." He leaned in and kissed your cheek chastely. "Now let's get you back to your friends. I'm sure they'll have questions."

You blushed as you remembered having to explain a freaking vampire bite to your friends, "Greeeeaaaaat."

Damien chuckled as he scribbled a number down on a business card, "This is my cell. Anita and Nathaniel got it for me. I'm not great with it yet, but I can get help if I need it."

You took the card as you followed Damien back to the club major's door, "Well" you said, running your fingers over the card, "This will probably help with my friends. They'll be green with envy."

Damien laughed as he opened the door, "Let's have another dance. This one's on me."

#nurse grace writes #commissions are open #vampire #vampires #anita blake #anita blake au #damien the vampire #tw mentions of trauma #tw blood drinking #aesthetic

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in-maidjan · 5 years

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forcekenobi replied to your post: forcekenobi replied to your post: i have three out...

OKAY I CANT DEAL. LITERALLY SILVER FOX /AND/ BUFF HALF ORCS???? IM GONNA PASS OUT. MY TYPES™

silver fox *Dad thank u very much and absolutely buff half orcs, are there any other kind??

#forcekenobi #kite replies #asdfghj im slowly amassing all ur weaknesses.....u cant hide from hot oc creation skills....#oc; blood heirs

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sxnaverse-kabuki-archive · 2 years

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~Migraines~

(Based upon a concept that due to Avarice’s vampirism, he has issues being out in direct sunlight. While no, he doesn’t go up in smoke like the sanguinarian variety, it’s still pretty bad; like ‘enough to set off crippling headaches’ bad. Migraines suck, and i HC he’s very prone to them (or maybe it’s just my way of making my OCs suffer as i also suffer from migraines, myself. Who knows!). Also, i just REALLY wanted some fluff and Kabuki going all Momma Fox(TM) when it comes to the Vice Guardians is life.)

It wasn’t unusual for The Judge to suffer from splitting migraines. He wasn't much of an outdoorsy type, anyway--most Sakura Palace residents knew that.

Vampirism made even a normal day out in the afternoon sun feel like pure torture.

Hell, even sometimes, being inside didn’t mean he was safe from the assault on his eyes and ears.

Entering his trial hall, he felt his legs shake so much that he almost fell to the golden tiles.

Thankfully, he was able to walk forward for a few more steps until he reached the throne at the far end of the room. He removed the shaded glasses from his nose as he leaned against the chair's arm. It was somehow easier to bear the pain when his head hung weightlessly down...

He hid his face from view behind a tangle of strawberry-blonde hair that hung almost like a thin shield. He swore his throbbing and splitting pain timed almost perfectly with his heartbeat, but there was still that settling sense of exhaustion behind his sore eyes.

He could almost fall asleep sitting there, just as he was...almost. As he drifted off, a small, soft voice woke him. There was not enough of an irritant to make him want to telekinetically send them flying out of his hall, but enough for him to acknowledge their presence. A growl echoed from the back of his throat, much like that of an irritated cat.

“...Yes…?”, came the low, pained reply.

-It’s…it’s only me, Your Honor. I mean you no harm—-

“Avarice, woman. Spare the formalities here…you and I know each other well enough that you may as well call me by name, not title…as kind as that is, even for you…”

A soft, bell-like laugh followed. -Yes, of course. I was told to show respect where it is due. I see you as an equal, old friend...i'd...i would ask if you're all right, but...it's obvious that would be weird to ask when it's obvious you're not.-

“...You…you wouldn’t be either if…the sun was no better than a knife to the skull.”

-Mm…i’m sure. Look at me…won’t you…?-

…She was joking, right? Look up at her? According to the direction she spoke, he would be staring directly into a bright sunbeam if the direction her voice came from were correct. Then again…maybe she’d be blocking it? She did sound pretty close…almost right on him, even.

Even though he felt dubious about those words, did she actually leave him with much of a choice?

After a few moments, Avarice sat upright again, although with his head down, staring into his lap. Hands reached out to wrap delicately around his face, cupping either side of it before tipping his head back. His eyes remained shut, fearful of the radiant light that would greet him as soon as he opened them.

-...Open your eyes. Can you? It's...not as bright as you think. I’m certain of it…-

The gentle command remained in his mind, despite the fact that it sounded like a lie. But it was true. In the trial hall, the windows no longer reflected bright light, but fading sunlight fading into twilight. Just dim enough to open his eyes, but still just enough so that doing so felt like a challenge for him.

Perhaps the swelling made his eyelids feel like they were heavy with lead...

While the click of the woman's tongue was soft, it was enough to cause Avarice to flinch at its suddenness. It didn’t even hurt, but by the GODS, did it scare him.

In front of him, Kabuki's silhouette could be vaguely discerned. Although blurry and distorted, her image was beyond recognition. At this point, Avarice's vision wasn't impaired. At least, not yet; he knew that would come later. A brilliant blue still shone beyond the thin, slitted eyeholes of the mask on her face.

That small tilt of her head followed.

-...Swollen. Can...oh, why am I asking that? You can't see...and that swelling around your eyes, I'm sure, isn't helping one bit...c'mon...can you...can you walk...?-

He wanted to laugh at just how absurd that sounded to ask. His legs felt like rubber and his head spun. It was as if she were asking him to walk a tightrope; it was basically the same concept. "No, if you would rather become a walking crutch to me, My Lady...that...that seems rather rude of me to request of you."

-...I'm asking YOU, Avarice. Not vice-versa. It isn’t rude at all. What you have, what you suffer from…sometimes, it robs you of the ability to walk. Does it not?-

"Yes...it does. Vertigo and lightheadedness have a way…of doing that. Vertigo and lightheadedness have a way...of doing that. Still, I never could—"

Inwardly, she groaned: "Yare yare...are you always this stubborn?" It's fine...really. Just…come here? Please?-

Instead of standing up, Avarice stared up at her. All her persistent attempts to relieve him of the headache from Hell had a strange sweetness to them.

There was something about it...that reminded him of someone...

Someone he once knew and loved quite well, until the fateful night came along…

Intense, sharp agony raged through his temples and eyes as he blinked and smiled, although his smile was pained by the intense, sharp pain. To Kabuki, a slight nod of the head was enough confirmation. As carefully as he could, Avarice pulled himself up using both hands on her shoulders.

For many reasons, not just because Kabuki was so small (for the woman was very much capable of showing that it would take more than just him striking her to put her down), but to prevent both of them from falling to the ground. Both stepped backwards, Kabuki backwards and Avarice forwards until they were a comfortable distance from the throne so that she could position herself under his arm.

As if he already knew where she was, all of Avarice's weight leaned toward her. Gritting her teeth, she scrunched up and snagged her arm around his back.

GODS, he was heavy…even to her, and she was considerably stronger than the seven!

His weight on her shoulders was like holding a lead weight. Her only reminder that it was still Avarice was the scent of cologne and coffee on him.

-Alright…come on now…the guest chambers are closer here. Let…let me help…just somewhat. Even if it’s just for a moment…-

Even as he hid his face, bracing himself from the blinding glare, the discontented look on his face was obvious. Even if he resigned himself to sleeping at his throne until the following morning, he really didn't want to admit that the help was greatly needed. A stubborn man, the Judge of Avidity was...and more so when it came to Kabuki.

However, you may use the fact that he wasn't the most trusting of souls when it came to the Fox Goddess' help even when he really needed it. He’d probably allow the likes of Invidia or Superbia to help him walk. If Avarice truly wanted to, he could easily shun her away...but something about her persistence felt sincere to him.

Until Avarice was fully upright, he didn't realize how lightheaded he was. This was not in the typical 'urge to feed' way that would occur if he didn't have a victim to drain. As the feeling was only significant and recognizable to him, the difference was only something he would notice immediately. And he hated it…

A groan bubbled from his lips, followed by hiccuping.

…Oh hell.

As soon as this, and the growing feeling of nausea, started his stomach churning—he instinctively bolted away from her. Kabuki stumbled backward and watched him stumble forward towards the bedroom.

-Wha–OI! Y-you can’t walk, remember?! Where are you—?!-

Before Kabuki could utter the words, it was too late. She watched as he stumbled forward into the hall. He was blind to where he was heading, and reached out his hand in an attempt to feel his surroundings. However, when his fingers touched the bin that marked the entrance into the main foyer. Kabuki was completely unsurprised by what happened next...but it made her flinch, both at the sound of him hitting the ground and the subsequent retching that ensued.

As much as she fully expected him to be sick and dizzy, she had not anticipated it being so...sudden.

The situation left her emptied and hopeless, unsure of how to even comfort someone who had only half of her trust. Bringing a mortal back to life had its own side effects that she couldn't control. Her role as a Goddess of Fate meant that she could not control its consequences once she had wrought them. All she could do from that point on was make life easier.

Avarice was sadly but unfortunately one of many examples of this reprisal.

Moving forward, she reached out to him, hoping maybe she could provide some comfort. If she didn't want to be drained of her own life force upon contact, she had to be careful how she touched him. This only applied to skin-to-skin contact, not clothing, so maybe she was safe?

Possibly.

In an instant, the energy in the room sparked to life, as her fingers touched his shoulder. She almost rescinded her decision because she felt so uneasy about it. On the other hand, she wasn't willing to give up because of fear. It looked more like embarrassment on his part and just the desire to get her to leave. Her answer would have been a resounding yes...if she had been sure he could walk himself to bed.

Her stomach turned just a little bit at the sound of him spitting up the vomit and trying not to vomit again after doing so. "...Don't ye fuckin' look at me, woman. I feel disgustin'...", he slurred, accent sliding more towards an East London accent than the proper Received Pronunciation he was known to have. The cussing was even more surprising; any expletives he used were very mild...so hearing this both shocked and amused Kabuki considerably.

-...Hey. Listen...I know you want to be alone. It's okay. I understand a little bit what you're suffering through...all the prayers in the world can be grating and irritating on the ears. Whoever the God was that invented migraines must've been a cruel being...or must've been having a shitty day and was sick of their creations annoying them.-, she laughed to herself at the last part, -My point, however, is that i'm not as clueless as you'd like to think. Don't be so stubborn...I can help you, but only if you let me.- "...Fine. If...y' insist so bleedin' badly. Jus'...help me up...? If...If ye c'n walk me t' the chamber-room...--", he stopped shortly, gagging quietly, "...Preferably wi' th' bin..."

Behind her mask, Kabuki smiled. -That can be arranged. My only request is that you take your time...you have the grace of a drunk man, so I'd rather not have to pick you up again. You're...you're quite heavy, you know?-

After a while, he let out a small chuff: "...Quiet, woman..."

#((Also i promise Avarice is actually nicer than he comes off as here in this. Migraine = tha big grouch.))#((But there's a bigger reason of his distrust in Kabuki. Will i get to that? I might. >w>'))#((Tis a spoiler to his backstory that am not ready to reveal yet.))#((But for now have some hurt/comfort. I may do a follow up with more fluff. UwU'))#;The Goddess's Quill (Drabbles)#emetophobia tw #;The Judge of the Damned (Avarice)#;Kitsune no Mikoto (Kabuki)

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