#the salt in our blood au

[childotkw]

I can't stop thinking about Luke surviving the dance (with or without dragon tbh) and basically taking over Driftmark since Corlys has gotten too old to rule it. He isn't legally Lord of Driftmark but everyone respects him and calls him as such. I'd imagine him either being a hostage for the greens for a bit before escaping them or surving the fall and finding his way around Stormlands, maybe some family in a small village takes him in for a month so that he can regain his strength. But then he is absolutely fucking furious and goes all sicko mode. He claims a dragon (could be any of them or maybe Arrax is alive) but he never really forgets how much of a problem Velaryon fleets and ships could be to the greens, so he takes after Corlys and leads the Velaryon troops into war and they win pretty much everytime. He maybe even basically (spoilers for fire and blood if you haven't read it) saves Jace in the Battle of The Gullet with Velaryon ships and his dragon. After the war no one ever dares to call him a Strong again, he is both a Velaryon and a Targaryen and he is proven himself as such. You can sneak in Lucemond into this somehow haha i just conpletely forgot about Aemond here. Maybe when Arrax dies Aemond basically thinks the debt as payed (an eye for a dragon, a dragon for an eye) and when Luke goes and claims another dragon Aemond cannot blame him for it, bc then he'd be a hypocrite. I'd honestly love an AU where Luke is captured and it's a whole story about how he goes through some shitty stuff but those only make him stronger in the end. (ig theres many plotlines in GoT that contains hostage situations too haha it just has the best potentials)

I love this and I'm gonna do a twist on it, if that's okay?

Lucerys survived, and when he came back to Dragonstone he refused to claim another dragon. He lost Arrax and the pain of that severed bond was too raw, too fresh, for him to contemplate replacing his friend. In the future, maybe, but right now? No. No, he couldn't bring himself to do that.

So, he embraced his Velaryon heritage instead.

The sea almost took him once after all, but it gave him back, and that marked him in some way. Being at the mercy of the vast ocean and allowed to survive - it changed a person.

He was more a tempest than fire now, but he's just as sharp, just as dangerous as any dragon that soared through the sky.

And Lucerys had always wanted to protect his family. It was the one thing that never failed to rouse his temper, and to defend their cause from the sea while his mother, father and siblings defended it from the sky? It was - not perfect, but as close as he could get.

He became known as the 'Sea Dragon'. His weakness for sea travel fell away to a confidence unmatched by any other, and Corlys would burst with pride at how his grandson grew to take command of Driftmark and the Velaryon fleet.

Lucerys sailed, and he fought, and he won more often than not. For all that he was young and untested, he was reckless and bold, and his ingenuity was one of his biggest strengths.

And his men loved him for it.

By the end of the war, no one who worked under his command would dare claim him unworthy of the title Lord of the Tides. Bastard or not, he carried the Velaryon name and lived up to the legacy.

(And if it were a kinder world, one where Aegon eventually decided that enough was enough and he was sick of being a pawn in his mother's games and his grandsire's ambitions, and he bent the knee to his sister? Well, Lucerys and Aemond would eventually reunite, and though he had known his nephew had survived their ill-fated fight above Shipbreaker Bay, Aemond still found himself breathless when he saw Lucerys again for the first time.

His nephew had grown in the past year, the last of his boyishness peeling away to reveal a defined jawline and strong features with the beginnings of stubble on his cheeks. Muscular and tanned from his days on board his ship, Arrax, and eyes that roiled, he looked -

Handsome, Aemond realised with a jolt.

But the thing that bothered him the most was that, for all the pain and anger that lurked between them, Lucerys didn't look at Aemond. Not during the negotiations. Not during the tense feasts that followed. Not even at his mother's coronation when they stood right across from each other. It was as if he had ceased to exist in his nephew's eyes, and that burned.

For Lucerys, his indifference was the last armour he had, because if he acknowledged his uncle, if he dared look at the man that had carved half of his soul from his chest and now seemed to live under his skin, then he'd do something he'd regret. Like kill him.

Or kiss him.

He wasn't going to tempt fate and see which side the coin landed on.

Too bad for him, Aemond refused to be ignored.)

#anonymous #HOTD #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #me holding lucerys up to you all: i just think he's neat #have another potential au lmao #the salt in our blood au

[buckets-and-trees]

SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k  Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him. 

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters. 

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras. 

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table. 

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied. 

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said. 

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly. 

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours. 

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment. 

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way. 

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped. 

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face. 

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. 

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back. 

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you. 

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched. 

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you. 

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter. 

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips. 

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you. 

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.” 

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you.  “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.” 

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder. 

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel. 

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer. 

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him. 

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort. 

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy. 

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.” 

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers. 

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering. 

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure. 

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted. 

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted. 

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements. 

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release. 

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him. 

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest. 

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again. 

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word. 

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roo sleepover #bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob boss au #mob boss! avengers #f!reader #aspen wrote something #female reader

[majordemonblockparty]

au where sam goes along with the demon blood drinking 'cause he figures if anyone can grant clemency in hell, it oughta be the boy king of the fucking place.

cue full-on yellow-eyed juiced-up rightful prince of hell sam winchester who has spent the past four months picturing how he'll pour into the depths of hell with legions of demons and hellhounds at his beck and call to break his brother out of whatever implement of torture he's been strung up in... except that when he gets there, dean's unbound, unfettered, up on his own two feet with a knife in his hand, and doesn't even notice sam right away. he's dialed in, laser-focused on peeling back the skin of what might've once been a person with all the care of a shearer going after a sheep, everything from his face (oh, god, his face, his dear face; last time sam saw that face he was nailing pine boards over top of it after he'd closed the eyelids and wiped it free of blood and salt and kissed that cold, still mouth and--) to his bare feet spattered in abattoir-floor gore.

(in the end, sam's never entirely sure how he gets dean's attention -- whether he calls his name, or chokes on a sound trying to be words, or if something inside him deeper than a soul screams out for dean -- but there's a knife in dean's hand and blood on the blade when he turns to sam.)

dean just stares at him for a second, that still, cool, animal look he gets sometimes on a hunt; all predator, 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for I am the meanest sonovabitich in the valley' kind'a look that makes the hair at sam's nape stand on end. then dean's face contracts all at once -- eyes narrow, lip curls, jaw tightens -- as he turns on his heel and flings his knife into the chest of the -- man? demon? demon, gotta be; nothing still human wears a face like that -- standing just out of arm's reach.

"thought we had an agreement," dean snaps, gravel-scrape low at the bottom of his register, like he's been sick but won't admit it for weeks on end. (or screaming. like he's been screaming, a lot, for weeks. or months, maybe. but maybe not; sam's been wrong before.) "no more projections, no more games. we agreed."

the demon puts his hand to the hilt of dean's knife, still buried in his chest cavity, and sam can't have that, can't have an armed demon within throwing distance of deandeandeandeandean, and all he has to do is think about it -- not even really think, not anything so complicated as holding the words or the image of it in his brain; just the intention behind the thought is enough to send the knife jerking out of the demon's grasp and slapping handle-first into sam's open palm.

the demon doesn't laugh, exactly, but his face stretches into what might be the memory of a grin; all teeth, no smile. "we did, and I have not thus far reneged on our agreement, boy. if I'm not mistaken, that's the genuine article; sam winchester, in the flesh. and what pretty flesh it is, too. goddamned succulent."

"hey!" dean barks, "knock it off." that habitual, spine-up, big brother voice that's been part of sam's life since before he can remember. "quit talking about his fucking... flesh." he says 'flesh' in a tone people usually reserve for words like 'fascism' and 'gangrene' and sam's chest aches for the dean-ness of it.

for a second, like a hologram or a magic-eye puzzle, sam sees dean. dean disarticulated, splayed out like a frog pinned to a dissection board, chest cut open, organs scooped out and toyed with and put back wrong. bones rent from their joints, eyes ripped from their sockets, fingers broken one knuckle at a time, nails torn from their beds in a bloody little pile. pieces cut off and waiting for their white waxed paper wrappers; bloody red pieces of flank, ribs, leg, shoulder.

"dean."

(he doesn't say his brother's name so much as he breathes it, horror and relief and delight and longing all shading his tone.)

the look on dean's face is like missing the bottom step of the staircase in the dark. he looks at sam like he hasn't seen him in a hundred years. he looks at sam like he saw him yesterday, the very last thing he saw, sam's face inches from his when his pupils blew out, the fine muscles inside his eye relaxing as his brain and heart and lungs all stopped working.

"sam?"

#dean winchester #sam winchester #cw gore #boy king of hell sam winchester #headcanons & other nonsense #she speaks #supernatural #spn fanfic #the brothers winchester #alistair

[ghouljams]

*Gasp* Can we get 1870! Cowboy Au Valeria??? What would she be??? How would she meet her partner??? Is it slow burn or do they move fast??? Does she try to kill her partner, like enemies to lovers or maybe it's lovers to enemies to lovers?!?!

I don't know what this is, I just want more Valeria....

Can I please have more of her ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ

🐇

Actually yeah you can because I have ideas for her and Los Vaqueros in the 1870 au, I'll do Alejandro and Rudy later, here's Valeria:

El Sin Nombre is an outlaw that no one has managed to come even close to capturing. Their gang is feared and loved in equal measure, both for the safety they provide and the money they take for providing it. It's a large bounty on El Sin Nombre's head, large enough to draw the most desperate of gunslingers, or the stupidest. A bounty that big is basically a warning. You're not one to get involved in squabbles like that. You think in another life being a gunslinger might be fun, but in this one you're a stable hand. A horse trainer on a good day, a muck shoveler on a bad one.

On the best days you get to see Valeria. She's not in town often, only when she's looking to break in a new horse or collect a shipment of some kind, but when she is it's like the whole world holds its breath. You hold your breath, until she tells you to relax. She always looks over your horses with a critical eye, asks you questions about their health, their speed, whether they spook easy, if they've ever been out in the dust. You don't know what sort of work she does, but you know it wears her horse down fast.

The poor creature is always in need of something when she rides into town. It's a lovely chestnut stallion, that you think might be the proudest horse you've ever had the misfortune of trying to care for. You've been nipped by it more times than you can count. Really you should stop accepting its reins, but every time Valeria holds them out to you, you have to take them. You can't ignore an animal in need anyway. Especially when she thanks you every time you hand him back.

"He's just as good as new," she compliments, petting the horse's neck. The animal preens at her touch.

"I called the ferrier and got him new shoes, gave him a bath, he had a small abscess in his mouth but a little salt water'll clear that up quick," you pat the horse's flank and try not to flinch away from the stamp of its foot.

"Play nice, I like this one," Valeria coos to it in Spanish. You don't think she knows you speak her mother tongue, you're never sure how to bring that up.

"Did your, uh, business go well?" You ask, trying to make conversation. Valeria signals for one of the men she's with to pay you and hooks her foot in her stirrup to swing onto the horse's back.

"What do you think, did it go well?" She asks her group, the Spanish lilts off her tongue in a way that drives you half mad. One of the men laughs.

"As well as a bullet through the brain, and more money in our pockets."

Valeria hums, you pretend you didn't hear or understand that. It makes your blood run cold to think about. You do this a lot around Valeria, pretending you don't have suspicions about her work, fearing and loving her in equal measure. She really looks beautiful from the ground, the sun shining behind her head and casting dark shadows over her face.

"Things always go well for me," she tells you in english, and you believe her. You think the earth would quit spinning if she asked it to. All the stars in the sky would line up perfectly straight if she commanded.

"That's good," you nod, taking the money offered to you by her subordinate graciously. It's always smart to be gracious when dealing with people you suspect.

"Do you like working here, this-" She grimaces, "-shithole?"

"I like it better when you're here," you tell her honestly, it's good to be honest with people you suspect as well. You never want to be caught in a lie that could cost your life. Better to be honest, especially when it's complimentary.

Valeria laughs, throws her head back and laughs. You think that's a good sign. When she finishes, she pulls her hat from her head and leans to settle it on yours. "You should be careful with your sweet talk," she tips the hat low over your eyes, "next time I might steal you too."

You push her hat back as she snaps her reins to take off down the street. The sun might be getting to you with how warm you feel. You think something might've just happened, you hope it was something good. Because you're starting to think the man with no name might be a woman, and that is a much more dangerous line of thinking.

#1870s!cowboy #outlaw!Valeria #valeria garza #valeria x reader #valeria cod #valeria x you #idk if the hat rule was a thing in the 1870s but damn if valeria isnt coming back for you #ma'am you can steal me any time #🐇 anon #i think we r gonna do marshal ale and ranger rudy #those fit the best #i think its kinda slow burn because reader is trying to not get killed #but valeria knows what she wants and takes it

[ohbo-ohno]

I know that you already answered about Reader not really having household chores, but one can imagine being a housewife as a coping mechanism in serial killer AU......

We just stay in this creepy crawly fuckhouse too long, it reeks of blood and rotten meat and bourbon and we just can't!! Begging the guys to just let us have your way, cleaning everything, burning our hands with bleach and cleaning supplies, forcing Soap to take baths with sweetly scented salts.

Ghost found out about your little hobby and calls you their adorable house wifey....you're scared and afraid and the only thing that allows to keep your mind away is cleaning and cooking and maybe even knitting((( boys getting out of their last hunt, all burly amd sweaty and covered in blood and their little pet wifey is right here, welcoming them in a clean house with ahaky hands. Ghost drops us to his lap like a cat, scrubbing our head while Soap tries to feed us, talking about how perfect their last victim was screaming.

Murder den is too clean, so now they have to drag another victim inside and gut them!! Putting our housewife skills to good use

love a good housewife kink

she needs something to do while they're "gone" all day, she'll go insane otherwise! and it's not like they give her much freedom, there isn't much around to do but cook and clean

but oh my god... the way their obsession with you would become even more deranged if they thought you were trying to take care of them.

you clutching at ghost's hands, nearly scrubbing his hands raw with how harshly you're washing away the blood. meticulous enough to get under the nails and the cuticles, in the grooves of his callouses and scars. he's just staring down at you like you're anointing him. you refuse to let him touch you if you don't get to make sure his hands are clean, and he pretends to barely tolerate it when secretly he loves the whole process

johnny could watch you cook for fucking hours. the way you hustle and bustle around the kitchen, making sure everything is being prepared at the exact right time so it's not too hot or cold for serving, or how focused you get when decorating something you've baked. he buys you a frilly little apron, makes you wear nothing else besides it and jacks off to the way your ass moves when you bend over to take cookies out of the oven.

knitting or crocheting for them :( would take a while for them to trust you with the hooks, but they would eventually. trying to discreetly figure out their measurements without asking - making larger items of clothing takes longer and therefore distracts you for longer! one day they find a whole stash of hats and mittens and sweaters and scarves :( all the gifts you've made for them :( they reward you so nicely for being so good to them <3

also - ghost keeping you captive on his lap and hand feeding you your homemade meal while he and soap talk in gruesome detail about their crimes... yeah that does it for me. you get all wiggly and whiney and he just shushes you, brushes a hand over your head and kisses your hairline, gives you another bite of food when you open your mouth to complain

#gremlingottoosilly #serial killer ghoap x reader #bo writes

[fayoftheforest]

vampire kyle & historic antisemitism

DISCLAIMER: this post is not intended to incite drama or discourse, I simply want to share my thoughts on a complex topic. Just because I’m Jewish does not mean I speak for the entire community. We’re not a monolith, there is great diversity of opinion among us, discussion and debate is a beloved part of our culture, etc etc :) ok on with the post!

But wait, Fay, I hear you interject. Vampires aren’t even real! How can they be sayin’ stuff about Jews? Well, my dear friends, I have some rather grave news for you: much of pop culture is Sayin’ Stuff About The Jews. And very little of it is positive :/

I’ll quote Jewish author Deke Moulton to establish the basic links between vampires and antisemitism:

The problem is tied to the conspiracy called the blood libel. If you’re not familiar with it, the blood libel started in Medieval Europe in the 12th century and claimed that Jewish people needed the blood of Christian children to make our Passover matzoh. For context, Jewish people are prohibited from consuming blood at all – we will salt kosher meat to draw out blood. Despite being very old and very wrong, the blood libel idea still persists today (albeit usually with slightly less obvious framing).

There is also a common trope of vampires operating through a secret, worldwide council that often governs ‘vampire affairs’ but also may dabble in controlling other aspects of the world’s governments. While some people can see a similarity to the Catholic Church, often times this calls upon the antisemitic trope of the ‘cabal’—that Jews secretly run the entire world (which is another strange antisemitic trope, as Judaism doesn’t have any central religious figure like the Pope). The word ‘cabal’ itself is a bastardization of the word kabbalah, a form of Jewish mysticism. If you combine this with a trope of vampires hoarding large amounts of money (especially gold?), you’re using yet another antisemitic trope that says Jewish people control the world’s banks.

Even things like being adverse to the sunlight can have antisemitic implications – the early Church claimed that, because in Judaism days start at sundown and thus our time of worship happens at night, that gathering at night to worship was proof of us being evil and satanic.

So, all vampires are bad and wrong, and vampire Kyle AUs are a hatecrime, and everyone who’s ever done one should go straight to jail, right?

Well. No.

Because really, it should be noted that this extract is from an interview on Moulton’s novel “Don’t Want To Be Your Monster,” a book which not only features blood-sucking vampires, but a blood-sucking Jewish vampire. Interesting, interesting... it's almost as if this topic is nuanced or something 🤔

Many iconic vampires are based on antisemitic stereotypes. Perhaps most famous is Dracula, with curly hair and a hooked nose, is an Eastern European immigrant who has the intentions of “infecting” British society. Another example is Nosferatu, who also has an exaggerated hooked nose, is thin, pale and hunched, and is topped by a skull cap. There are modern exceptions to this trend, though! Twilight comes to mind. Edward Cullen is far more inspired by Stephanie Meyer’s Mormonism than Judaism as a whole. Explained so aptly by The Quietus, “As vampiric portrayals become more positive, they tend to also become less connected to Jewish representation.” Come on, you guys >:( Jewishness can be hot and sexy too, I swear!!

From what I’ve seen of Vamp!Kyle AUs, portrayals tend to lean more towards the mysterious and alluring Cullen-type than the bad-to-the-bone Dracula. Ultimately, I think this is what redeems our fandom’s vampire Kyle. Because crucially, whilst vampires can be antisemitic, they are not innately antisemitic. When you show Kyle brooding behind his high-collars and flashing toothy grins at his love interest, it’s not typically symbolic of the ultimate evil that we are expected to fear and ridicule. It's intended to be cute, or cool, or hot, or whatever.

My advice is thus: if you want to make something deeper or complex with the AU, just have a think about what you’re using his vampiric traits to represent. Are you drawing from unfortunate stereotypes or feeding into antisemitic fears? Are you validating or justifying the “othering” or ostracisation of Jewish people from wider society? You could consider finding a Jewish beta/sensitivity reader, if that’s accessible to you. But generally speaking, so long as you’re not presenting Kyle as an all-powerful predator to pure, innocent Christian society, I reckon you’re probably alright :)

#south park #south park meta #sp kyle #kyle broflovski #vamp!kyle #vampire kyle #i took a long break from tumblr so posting a meta here after all this time is a bit scary haha! #if you enjoyed please let me know and maybe i'll post more stuff like this or smthn :) #cw antisemitism

[luvvixu]

dazai x reader (she/her)

🏡🧵 home sweet home pt. 2

series

genre: fluff, domestic au

synopsis: what does it look like to have a normal daily life at dazai's household? just you coming home to your little family after a long and exhaustion work. this is the life you and dazai had been dreaming of.

warning: none

word count: 1.7k

a/n: here is the part two y'all been wanting for!!! i tried my best to make it wholesome without being si redundant as possible hehehe. i goddamn love dazai being a dad he is, chuuuu.

SPEAK NOW (TAYLOR'S VERSION) IS OUT ON JULY 7!! BE SURE TO CHECK IT OUT PLS PLS PLS!!!

song - daylight by taylor swift

this was the moment where you and dazai's child was born...

the sound of your blood curdling screams sends a shiver down his spine as dazai could feel the bones in his hands are going to snap at any moment.

this is the moment the two of you are waiting for. you are going to welcome your bundle of joy in your little family.

you are screaming and crying your eyes out. delivering a new life feels like it was slicing your body in half. the pain was unbearable, especially since this is your first time.

but you had your husband right beside you, holding your hand as he was also taking a step with you towards the new journey of parenthood.

"you're doing good, sweetheart!" dazai made sure to keep you occupied by whispering sweet nothing in your ears.

with a final push, the two of you made it.

dazai couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw his daughter after being cleaned up and now fully dressed with the clothes he especially picked for his sweet little princess.

"hello, mr. dazai. would you like to hold her?" the nurse who carries his daughter said with a smile.

he nodded immediately as his shaky bondage arms reached for his little baby. the nurse carefully instructed him on how to properly hold a baby.

his heart pang against his chest when he first felt the little weight being pressed on his body. dazai couldn't help but to feel the salt tears pooling his eyes.

the nurse congratulates him one last time before going out of the room to give him some privacy with his first born.

dazai shed a tear. "goodness, you looked so tiny." he whispers. the man couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the bundle of joy.

and when dazai's index finger reached for her tiny hand, the baby instantly clutched around him. dazai literally felt his whole body being electrocuted with overflowing happiness as he continued to cry.

his baby looked so adorable in his arms.

a man who was once a suicidal maniac couldn't believe that this is his life now. he had a beautiful and caring wife who accepts him despite his flaws. and now, he had someone to call his own child. these two people are his greatest blessing in life.

a blessing…

dazai cracked up the softest smile he could offer, gazing lovingly at his daughter. "your mother didn't make a wrong choice to name you, emi." he said as he stared at your sleeping figure.

"welcome to the family, emi, our greatest blessing."

as you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the white ceiling. carefully, you move your head to seek for your husband.

and there you saw him, holding the newest family member with a soft smile on his face. you also noticed that his long and slim fingers are playing on her little ones.

a smile broke into your face. this is a view that for sure would be permanent in your memory.

dazai looked into your direction and saw you finally awake. his smiles widen as he gently moves closer to you.

"honey, look! our little emi is here." he excitedly shows you emi who was still sleeping in his arms.

your husband helped you to sit as he also sat beside you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder that gives you better access to your daughter.

"she looks so much like you." dazai whispers while you shake your head at his statement.

"she looked like us, samu. don't just give me the whole credit, you also helped on creating her." you countered, making his chuckles and silently agreeing.

"when i first held her, i could feel myself crying—actually, i was still crying inside. it's just our baby looked so tiny and adorable." he confessed. when you imagine it, you for sure are laughing at how adorable he would look when he's trying not to faint.

"i assume you haven't let go of emi when the nurse gave her to you." you said.

your husband smiled cheekily. "you guessed it right. i just want to carry her all the time."

"wouldn't you get tired, though?"

dazai laughed and planted a kiss on your temple. "nope, our emi-chan is my ball of sunshine that would instantly charge me up whenever i hold her." it was true, dazai could hold her all day and all night. he doesn't care if his arms go stiff, as long as he can feel his little baby, he is complete.

"just look at her hand, sweetheart. it's so tiny!" dazai couldn't help but to squeal a little. it really amazes him how the size difference is evident between them.

you smiled at him as you wander, this view is so wholesome. "samu, where's my phone?" so, you shall take a photo of it as a memory.

"oh here." he handed you the phone.

you position your phone where dazai and emi could see. the love of your life gave his biggest smile, posing on the camera. while emi was just there, sleeping and unaware.

*click!*

you smile to yourself as you make it your wallpaper. dazai peak on your shoulder. "send that pic to me. we need to tell this great news to the agency!"

"no need. they just texted me and said they're on their way." you waved your phone where it shows the conversation you had with yosano.

dazai squinted his eyes when he read the nickname you had for yosano. oh shoot…

"girlfriend?"

"a-ah! before you say anything, i'm not cheating on you." you interrupted him before he could even finish.

"yosano may be hot, but that is just a normal nickname for a girl best friend. she also set my nickname on her phone as my boo!" you continued to justify yourself.

"i know, no need to be so defensive. besides, i'm not even mad." dazai just shrugged it off, making you breathe in relief.

"let me carry emi too." you change the topic to your daughter, who still doesn't care and is unaware for she was just born a while ago. as you were about to hold your daughter, the door of the room opened.

"y/n-chan!" it was ranpo who literally flew towards the bed with kunikuda, kyouka, and atsushi following behind him.

"quiet down your voice, ranpo-san. there is a baby sleeping." kunikida scolded his senpai, but ranpo was far too excited to care. your eyes met with his, and kunikida just offered you a nod in acknowledgement, which you replied with a smile.

"congratulations, y/n."

"thank you, kunikida."

"ouch! aren't you also going to congratulate me, kunikida-kun~?"

"no."

kyouka and atsushi handed dazai a basket full of fruits and chocolates as a gift for your labor. they also squeal at the sight of your baby.

"the baby really resembles the two of you, dazai-san."

"i know, right?! our emi is going to be the bestest baby of all. atsushi-kun, let's make a bet if emi would had a dimple or not!"

"will she also work in the agency someday, ms. y/n?"

"that's up for her if she wants to, kyouka-chan."

while ranpo, he is the third baby in this room. one is emi, two is dazai, and three is him. this is going to be too much to handle. ranpo jumps in the bed to get closer with your daughter who's finally now in your chest.

"can i carry her?! can i?! can i?!"

"i thought you think babies are annoying?"

"a detective can make exceptions, dazai-kun."

"that's right, emi should be an exemption."

"ooh~! look at you, emi. you're so tiny like a bean! now i know why you named her that, y/n-chan."

"of course you knew. you saw me looking through the baby names."

everyone gathered around to see your baby who was nestling on her mama, but you noticed some people are missing.

"where are the others?" you asked them.

"kenji-kun, naomi-chan and tanizaki-kun are on their way here. they said they wouldn't come here without a present to emi-chan." ranpo said as he sneakily stole a chocolate lollipop from the basket to mend his sweet tooth.

"oi! don't steal that candy! you already eat a lot of that!" kunikida notices ranpo as he yanks his hand away from the basket, making ranpo throw fits and tantrums.

you all laughed at his behavior. but in the end, you let him have and he almost hugged you to death due to his happiness and gratitude. thankfully, dazai was there to not let him crush you.

everything went smoothly. they even argue who's going to be the best uncle of emi. but we all know atsushi is going to be the lead of them (canonically).

"the president and yosano are taking care of emi's birth certificate. i asked them to prepare in advance since i'm not very uh…you know, knowledgeable when it comes to that stuff." dazai whispers to you, kind of feeling ashamed.

"you know how to forge documents but don't know how to file your daughter's birth certificate?" you jokingly said.

dazai pouts. "i am willing to figure it out on my own. but the president said i should handle it higher up—like him, for some reasons. anyways, i'm still thankful to them, i got more time with emi."

you smile and you gaze back down to your daughter. it's a surprise to see that emi was still deep asleep in your arms despite the noises around her surroundings.

"i love you, y/n." dazai said out of nowhere and kissed your side temple, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"i love you too, samu." you replied, and you felt a slight kick in your arms. you chuckles as you see your daughter wriggling on her own.

"and we love you too, emi." you whisper to your daughter.

"uh sweetheart? i don't think i can hold it any longer. can i carry emi now?" your husband tugged your arms.

you let out a laugh as you shook your head at his silliness, but still let him carry emi. dazai almost let out a yey when his daughter was in his arms again.

and that moment you knew, emi is going to be daddy's girl.

©luvvixu2023

#dazai x reader #dazai fluff #dazai domestic #bsd #bsd dazai #domestic dazai #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #fanfiction #anime #fluff #luvvixu

[deadboyfriendd]

Cochise IV: Laudanum

Summary: Today, Michael Doten would die. Today, old graves would be exhumed and a mirror image will be held in front of you. Today, you would have to speak your husband’s name. 

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone!AU, drug use, drug overdose (apparent suicide), death of minor character by hanging, period-appropriate death and violence, angst, fluff, smut

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: Thanks Drac @dr-aculaaa and Jo @jo-harrington for listening to me vent and keysmash about this and let me get emotional about starting to wrap up Cochise. Love you guys <3 this one is for you <3

On this day, you wore white. 

Fingers sift past black gown and black gown again, burning a little less when it brushes the taffeta silk of your wedding gown. Dry knees scrape against soft fabric– much too soft for you. Untouched cotton catches on the hair of your legs. It squeezes at your middle much like that ugly dreadful serpent rattled its warning cry into the hollows of your ears and coiled itself tight and ugly into your ribs once more. 

On this day you wore white because, the last time you wore black, you felt the ripples between your husband’s fingers one last time. You ran your thumbs over the creases of your own to remember what his were like. Your heels sunk soft into the powdery grains of the sand outside of The Whispering Sands, a tomb trapping the hollow of your body on this day. You felt the sun on your skin almost immediately, the same way it had day after day after day– though, today it felt more like a sting. You stood outside, but felt the tether thick and winding against your back, reeling you deeper into The Sands until you pulled so hard it snapped. 

Today, you would watch another man die. 

Your footsteps were deafening as they crunched over compacted gravel, softening again as you transitioned from roadway to nothingness again, the crowd silent and tense in wait. There was not a gallows with a trap door on this side of Cochise county. Instead, a monstrous ironwood hung dry and ravenous over the west side of the city like a claw protruding from beneath the surfaces of Hell– several hundred yards out. 

The trial was fast, nothing ever happened in Cochise county that wasn’t. You’d have half a mind to call a kangaroo when you saw one, though, it was hard to argue killing a government official while the whole town watched. 

The sheriff and the plaintiff, a regal man from the state commissioner’s office, sat still and hollow-faced. The sheriff stared off in the distance, eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. You had it in your heart to knock on his door later. You would stew in silence together. You would fix him a meal and serve him a drink and refuse the money that he would inevitably leave on the counter, and you would dab at his knuckles as they seeped a deep red blood– just as he had done for you. 

Michael stood atop a stool, perpendicular to the flanks of a a broken Salt River mare, less slovenly. More sober than you had ever seen him in this lifetime. He blubbered a mess and immediately you were saddened. A man reduced to pleading. A man broken of pride and envy. 

“Just shoot me. Lord, please just let me go fast.” 

“Mr. Michael Doten,” The commissioner began, voice monotonous and stale. He had done this too many times, “You have been tried by the state of Arizona, Cochise County, and found guilty of the crime of Murder. On the evening of twenty-first day of August, in the year of our lord 1894, you fired a single shot that ended the life of State Marshall, Milt Kilmer. This crime was witnessed by Sheriff Steve Harrington, Mr. Edward Munson, and multiple other witnesses…”

“Please, Lord. An eye for an eye. Please just kill me fast.”

“Michael Doten, by the power vested in me by the state of Arizona, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging. May the lord be with you.” 

“Please, Lord.”

Soft cries of prayers ring poignant in the stale air. A broken man’s last pleas for forgiveness. Steve mouths a soft, “I’m sorry.” to Michael, before placing a rucksack over his head, pulling the noosehead over his throat and squeezing his shoulder. The mare is commanded to run. Prayers turn to chokes and then bittersweet silence.

There is a gilded line between life and death. In that moment, the sun shines too bright, the hum of the earth becomes deafening. The desert respires one heavy and pungent sigh. And all is silent again. A saguaro congregation stands in the distance, their joshua tree choirs bow their spiny heads in reverence. A silent prayer washes over the desert. 

You haven't prayed in years, but you bow your head and say a silent prayer for Michael Doten. You aren’t quite sure what for. Peace in death, maybe. Or even the blissful dissonance for silence would suffice. By the way he chokes his final breaths, you know it is too late to hope for painlessness. 

You look up, and lock your vision into a familiar warmth. You know Eddie can feel it, too. 

He is walking this line. He is standing over an old grave, just the same as you are. He is up North, cool, damp soil slipping between numb fingers and falling over a casket, how desperately he wants to peel it open and feel her chest once more for breath– how desperately he wants to crawl inside and lay himself next to her. How desperately you yearned to do the same. 

His movements are swift and sudden, rhythmic and graceful as he pulls himself on to his stallion and rides off towards the south mountain in a blind rage. The crowd dissipates at a sickeningly slow rate, and you push through hordes of black gowns and coats in search of him. You knew The Sheriff would be okay, you knew he would need his time to fester. Instead, you ran after him, toes kicking up clouds of powdery sand that sprayed behind you in clouds. 

By the time you reached the south mountain, you were breathless. The white ruffles had torn at the seam, hanging down ragged and dirty in the sand beneath you. 

It was spring, and the spring superbloom hung heavy in sheets on the mountain. The sun casting a pale gradient haze across the sky, orange mallows bleeding their bloom into the end of day, a royal hue and a vibrant pink mixing into a farewell song. 

“I felt it, too, Eddie.” Even now, you feel it. He looks at you, face angry. Just for a second, you’re afraid he might yell. “Like you’re there again, like you–”

“You’re standing over a grave?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” 

The silence was deafening, tension like bitter aspic encasing you in a mould inescabable. The seconds that passed by as you waited for him to say something were stretched like taffy. You waded through the quicksand of these moments, thrashing and drawning yourself deeper in tension. Finally, you spoke:

“Y’know, when Wilhelm died…” It’s the first time you speak his name. He feels real again, like he’s standing in front of you. You reach for his hand but find Eddie’s instead. “...when Wilhelm died I felt like I died with him. Or at least, something did. It felt like I just up and left a big fat chunk of my right there in the ground with him.” 

You squeezed his hand, firm, yet gentle, “You would have liked him.”

“Really?” He squeezed yours back.

“Yes.” It wasn’t an explanation, but it was enough. 

“You would have hated Christine.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, ma’am, you are too much like each other.” 

“What was she like?’

“Beautiful,” He started with a smile, “Pretty as a mink stole, but stubborn to Hell and back again.”

 He goes on like this, and you can see her in front of you. Barefoot and dancing in the orange mallow, firey hair against a vibrant wash of color in the background. She glows. Heavenly and celestial. Her feet are light and nimble. She never sleeps, she says, she says she will never die. She is dancing, dancing. She says that she will never die. 

“She sounds wonderful.”

It does not seem like a suffice enough answer. To be compared to something so lovely– so grand, as something so plain and mended. 

“She was.”

“Wilhelm was too.” and he was, tall and beautiful and lively as she. He is also never sleeping. He is also dancing. He also says that he will never die. 

“You know, you never say anything about him.” He says to you, turning in your direction, finally. 

You shrugged, allowing yourself to meet his eyes for just a moment, “I guess I’m just so used to the whole town knowing everything about me.”

“Well, I’d like to know about you, too.” 

He is close now, impossibly close. Decadently close. A closeness you have not felt since Wilhelm. It was sickening to know how close you felt to both of them. 

“I’m just a widow. I run a bar.”

“But it wasn’t always that way.”

“No, not always.” 

“Then tell me about him.”

“He was tall. The tallest man I had ever met.” You go on like this, describing to Eddie in full detail the discrepancies and your favorite, beautiful details of your beloved, then, finally, you spoke of his death, “That night, a handful of bandoleros came into The Sands. They took everything. They cleaned out the humidor. The last thing they wanted was his ring– h-he, he wouldn’t give it up.” Your voice wobbles, you don’t stop the tear from rolling down your face. 

“Christine died in her sleep,” He starts, and it is confiding and all-encompassing, “I like to think that she was finally at peace with whatever she was fighting. Maybe herself. They said it was laudanum. They said we wouldn’t ever know if it was an accident or not.” 

You’d have half a mind to ask him what he thought. It was better saved for another day. But you would always wonder. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You chided, it felt long-winded, insincere, even. Maybe because you had heard it so many times yourself. But by the nature of practicality it felt correct. 

He shrugged at the insincerity. If he felt it, he would never say it aloud. There was a pause, in which he completed his next words carefully. You were past informality now, just as you were past Edward or Wilhelm or Christine. 

 “We aren't so different, y’know.” You begin, backtracking on that ugly, overused phrase like a tar. He is looking outwardly into the distance. You wonder if he sees her dance too. 

He turns towards you, purple overtaking the sky in a solemn pitfall of night, “But we are” 

“And how is that?” You ask, almost snide. A smile curls at the corners of your lips. Orange and yellow overtake the bowl of mountains to the west. 

“Ma’am, I feel like I could love you.”

“Not the same way you loved her.”

“You can’t love me the same way you loved him.” 

“But I could try.” 

He is walking this line. He is standing over an old grave, just the same as you are. He is up North, cool, damp soil slipping between numb fingers and falling over a casket, how desperately he wants to peel it open and feel her chest once more for breath– how desperately he wants to crawl inside and lay himself next to her. How desperately you yearned to do the same. But this time, he finishes the pile and sets it with his hands. A final goodbye to Christine. 

He pulls you from the sand where you lay, pulls you into the bed of orange mallow and lays you to rest upon your back. 

He is slow to undress you, planting his lips like glue upon your skin to mend whatever pieces he can find. His fingers are nimble and fumbling as he pries apart the button snaps of your dresses with more force than necessary. Desperate to feel your skin– quick to take his time. 

He nips gentle marks across your chest, flesh gathering between teeth like ruffles. You do not yelp or cry out like Christine did. Instead, your breathy sigh washes over his face like a spring breeze, and your back arches to give leeway for his hands to find purchase. 

He is relentless in your dresses, pulling underclothes over the soft hair of your legs and feeling his way up again with wide, warm palms. His clothes come quickly after.

He undresses you in your entirety, then pauses to look over your body. You are not a woman who cowers away from his gaze, not a woman who slinks from his touch. You do not move your arms to cover yourself, instead, you let the waning heat of the sun bathe your skin in an ambergris orange glow. 

For a moment you stare at each other, taking in his form. Really, he is beautiful. Alabaster skin against a bleeding purple sky. He does not cower from your gaze, nor does he flaunt himself for you in a ridiculous masquerade of masculine offense. Instead he looms over you like the sun, warming your skin with his radiance. 

In him you do not see Wilhelm. Instead you see yourself. 

Mimicked faces of ecstasy mirror over when he pulls two gentle fingers through you, plunging them in a slow, methodic rhythm. It is soothing as much as it is arousing. A thumb rolling circles over the right places, placating a birdsong of quiet, breathless sighs not unlike his own. 

His skin is soft against yours when he enters you, flesh against flesh creating a warm friction masked by sand and sweat. 

His head is against your shoulder, teeth grazing over the flesh there and taking it in gently. His hands have purchase against your waist, keeping you grounded in place as he continues. His hair is soft against your neck, lye pungent in your nostrils as he encompasses your grief in his own jar and shelves it for another day. 

This evening, you will lay naked in the sea of this spring’s superbloom. He will roll the petals of the orange mallow over your skin and you will laugh as he twists the flower in circles. You have not laughed like this since Wilhelm. He has not laughed like this since Christine. 

On this day, you wear white. Married to your grief and eloped to this place.

On this day, you watched another man die, but you also breathed life into another man through nimble whispers and breathless sighs. 

On this day, you walked the plane between life and death. You held a man’s breath in your hands, so thick with his spirit you felt you could store it in a jar until you were ready to forgive him. 

On this day, you spoke Wilhelm’s name, and severed the tie that bound you to grief. 

You would not be healed today, but you say you will never die. 

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie munson x you #cowboy!eddie #cowboy!eddie munson #Spotify

[archiveoftara]

Are you okay?

Tag : @hufflepuff1619

AU: My first request one shot fic. I hope I did justice. Reader's first case and Lockwood makes sure the reader is alright. Hope you like it!!

"Are you okay?"

You looked at the boy, standing at the door, concern painted all over his face.  

"I'm fine." You hid your nervousness. 

You were sitting in the living room of an agency called Lockwood and Co. Involuntarily shaking your knees. Your mind was running a thousand miles per second. This was your first case, it's normal to be nervous. 

You got this job last week. You came from a small town with nothing but a rapier and a dream. You first discovered your talent when you were seven years old. 

You were playing in the field with your friends when you touched a tree and saw a man hanging from it. That's when you discovered you have talent.

Also, It was a horrifying thing for a kid to see but it intrigued you, instead. Since then, you wanted to be an agent. 

Anyways, it's almost time to leave for work. Lockwood calls your name, breaking your train of thoughts. 

"Hi," Lockwood muttered.

"Hey.." 

"are you..okay?"

"I'm okay but I'm nervous." 

"I could tell. It's normal to be nervous. I was too, when I got my first job." 

Really?"

He nods, not leaving your eyes. You gave him a smile. You don't have a choice but to be confident. You don't want to lose this job

"Ah home for tonight." George sighed while settling the bags. 

"We still have half an hour in our hands. Fancy some tea?" You asked. You received some enthusiastic nods as a response and made yourself to the kitchen.

You pop the kettle and settle on the counter. You closed your eyes and touched a few items in the kitchen, looking for some clues.

"Find anything?" Lockwood peeks inside the kitchen.

"Not yet" 

When you opened your eyes, you found Lockwood making tea and handed you a cup. You sipped your tea, content with the warmth it gives to your heart. One thing you love about Portland Row is the tea. Lockwood makes the best tea but you can't reveal this to anyone. If George finds out he will be pissed off, he takes pride in his culinary skills.

"Shall we?" Lockwood gives you his hand.

"We shall." 

It was harder than you thought. The visitor is strong and fast for some reason. You and Lockwood are trying to fight off the visitor while George and Lucy are looking for the source.

"WATCH OUT." 

You dodged and swung your rapier on the Ghost. "Lockwood, I don't think there's only one visitor." 

Before he could process you pushed him to the corner and threw a salt bomb on the ghost which was standing behind him. Lockwood was startled for a moment but he regained his composure.

Soon, both of you were fighting off the visitors in such ease, it's like a dance routine. It's like you both are meant to be together. 

"WE FOUND" 

You heard Lucy from across the room.

"Take your time to secure it, no pressure." With a dash of sarcasm you swung your rapier for the last time. It was gone. The visitors disappeared, the room went quiet. You can only hear your heavy breathing. 

You tried to stand but you fell on your knees, you felt a sharp pain in your waist. You touched it and felt warm blood oozing from your wound. 

"(Name),are you okay?" Lockwood gave you his shoulder, pulling you off the floor.

"I don't remember how..i hurt myself." 

"Don't talk right now. I'll patch you up, hold on." 

You're back in your room, sitting in your bed watching Lockwood practically running around the house. Looking for a med kit. You shook your head in exhaustion. 

"Lockwood I'm fine." 

The rustling stopped for a moment, you thought maybe he left and went outside the house but you were met with heavy footsteps.

"Fine?" 

You looked up with your droopy tired eyes. You saw Lockwood taking a seat in front of you.

"You're far from fine." He grimly said. "May I?" He gestured to your shirt. Silently asking to remove it. You nod in response. 

He helped you take it off, he didn't meet your eyes and you also felt the wall beside you looked interesting. He silently cleaned up your wound, muttering in his breath. 

You felt the tension inside the room so high, you might die from lack of oxygen. "You scared me." 

You looked at him in astonishment. "Lockwood.."

"If you say 'fine' one more time, I won't talk to you" he huffed. It made you smile. 

He's so cute

"I'm sorry. I should've protected you better."

"It's not your responsibility to protect me, Lockwood" 

"It's my name written on the door. It's my responsibility to protect my employees" 

You couldn't figure out why the word 'employee' hurt you a little. 

After patching you up, he sat beside you. 

"You saved me but I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry." He looked so guilty it broke your heart.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time" you gave a reassuring smile to him. 

You both remain quiet for a while, silently enjoying each other's company. 

"Does it hurt?" 

" Yeah a little, but I'll be alright soon. I think I'll just lay down a bit." 

"Oh yes, yes." He helped you lay on the bed. He tucked you in, literally. You blushed at his actions. 

"Are you really fine?" 

"Lockwood for the love of God, I am fine. Please don't worry so much." You cried.

"I..was just making sure you're okay. Jesus." Nonchalantly, he replied. 

He got out of your room and closed the door only to open it again. 

"Are you okay, name?" This time he's just annoying you. 

You threw a pillow at his face but before it hits him, he shuts the door and laughs mischievously. You smiled to yourself and went to deep slumber.

#lockwood x you #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #fanfic #lockwood x reader #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #fem reader #oneshot #reqs open #fandom #locknation

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[14.56]

― pairing : Minho x fem! reader ― content warnings : angst, smut, fluff, vampire au, mentions of blood, medieval settings, reader is a vampire hunter, Minho is a vampire, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 5,864

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🧛‍♂️ VAMPIRE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix

Being a vampire hunter not only was some families’ tradition, but some even claimed it was written in their blood as well.

Generation after generation, they were raised not only to fight vampires, but also to hate them with every fiber of their being. Obviously, you weren’t any different.

Raised as one of the most promising hunters, you have always managed to hide all your emotions behind a neutral and apparently detached expression, ignoring your victims pleas about being repentant about their ruthless actions.

«Vampires don’t deserve sympathy.» that’s what you’ve been taught: men and women which willingly decided to defy the rules of nature and life itself, yearning for immortality and therefore killing innocent people in order to feast on their blood.

That’s how you’ve lived your life so far, sharing a small, humble and cosy cottage with your friend Jarette, a hunter as well; since you and Jarette had always considered each other sisters and often worked together in our missions, you were rather surprised to know that the town’s Guild wanted you to go on a mission alone.

The mission didn’t seem particularly difficult: apparently, a group of vampires was not only the culprit of numerous murders, but also responsible for a significant numbers of theft.

Essentially, your mission consisted in patrolling the house of one of the richest families; to all the hunters to whom the mission had been entrusted, they had consequently been entrusted with different houses to be guarded for the duration of the night.

Quietly humming to yourself a song you heard few nights ago from some wandering musicians, you finished smearing salt on the marble floor, creating a perfect circle; it was the only thing that could keep vampires and other demonic entities away. With a satisfied nod, you turned towards the woman and the little kid she was protectively hoisting in her arms.

«As long as we’ll stand inside the circle, we’ll be fine.» you smiled, and the woman simply nodded at you, carefully lifting her dress enough not to smear the salt and ruin the continuity of the circle.

«If…» the woman started, only to immediately interrupt herself; she lowered her gaze on the floor, as if she was carefully choosing her next words, «Please, if anything happens, promise me you’ll at least save my son.» tightening your jaw, you nodded, used to these kind of promises.

For you, it was definitely the worst part of the job: making empty promises. Despite the fact that you somehow silently guaranteed her son’s safety, you weren’t in the position to do that.

No one ever knew how many vampires would have showed up, if they did; they could either show up alone, or with a backup. This was one of the main risks of your job, but still, you – and the other hunters, knew that it was the only way to tranquillize people.

A disturbing noise coming from the wide window on your left caught your attention, you instinctively flinched in discomfort, the noise seeming as if someone was scratching the glass; immediately, the little boy threw his arms around his mother, which leaned closer to your frame.

As fast as the noise started, it stopped, and you furrowed your brows, forcing yourself to take slow and deep breaths as you stood with a short dagger in your hand, waiting for the vampire’s next move. You were nervous, but you couldn’t give it away; even if you were used to vampires’ attempt to scare their preys, you still didn’t know when they would have attacked. It was somehow a psychological game, and you hated it.

The silence was deafening, and it was as if you could mark time with the beating of your heart; few seconds later, the window shattered in a billion pieces, and you noticed with horror how some of the broken glass fragments managed to destroy the salt circle.

«Oh, I hate when they do this!» you screamed to yourself, before quickly instructing the woman o hide in the wardrobe behind the two of you, «If anybody other than me opens that door, stab them.» you added, handing her a short knife you kept in your left boot, before giving her a quick push on her back; the wardrobe’s door closed and you immediately turned around, focusing your attention elsewhere since the wardrobe had an internal lock, meaning that she and her son should have been safe for a while.

The hate you felt towards vampire was also fueled by how fast they could move; even if you had been fighting for who knows how long, you hated to admit that once it came to physical fights, hunters didn’t stand a chance against vampires. The vampire was alone, and he easily towered over you. He was undoubtedly strong, and constantly looking at you as if you were food; the mockery you read in his eyes made you nervous and even angrier. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to lose concentration due to the fact that he was managing to get under your skin due to the fact that he kept countering your attacks, as if he could read your mind.

Panic pervaded your senses as the vampire roughly disarmed you with a quick movement and pinned you against the wall, hands around your throat in the unmistakable attempt to kill you in a slow and painful way; however, much to your surprise, it didn’t last too long.

The vampire let go of you due to the fact that he was being roughly yanked back by another boy, which didn’t waste time to stab him in his stomach, before tying his wrists with what looked like silver handcuffs; desperately catching your breath, you wondered if he was a hunter as well.

“I don’t thing he’s a hunter from the village,” you thought, “I never saw him before.”

«You’re lucky I was passing by, little one.» the boy spoke, and turned towards you.

«You’re one of them.» you spat, your voice coming out a little bit rougher due to the fact that you’ve almost been choked to death, his bright red eyes burning into yours.

«I don’t like being compared to this mud of insignificant misfits.» he said in a despising tone, using the tip of his leather boot to move the other vampire’s head which was still lying on the floor, unconscious.

Before you could question him further, he appeared in front of you and kneeled in order to look at you a little closely. Much to your dismay, you had to admit that the boy in front of you was so handsome he was almost otherworldly; big doe eyes were burning in a crimson colour, his hair were as black as a starless night and neatly styled so that it framed his delicate face, and his lips were plump and rosy – they undoubtedly looked kissable but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself yet.

«Checking out the enemy, I see?» he raised an eyebrow with a smug grin, and you felt your cheeks heathen in shame.

«Shut up.» you spat through gritted teeth, wanting to push him away from you but also completely aware that you couldn’t do much when you were confronting a vampire while unarmed; the boy chuckled, before reaching towards your neck with his left hand, which was enveloped by a leather black glove.

«It seems our goal is the same,» his voice was suddenly low and husky, and he blatantly ignored how you instinctively flinched away from his touch, «we’ll see each other again.» all it took for him was to touch a particular spot behind your neck, and your world went black.

Six months passed from your first encounter with the handsome vampire – Minho, and it pained you to admit how many times he actually saved you from certain death – despite the fact that you were one of the best hunters in your village.

Tonight was pretty much the same; contrarily to the expectations, the vampire showed up with a back up, and you had to face three vampires by yourself.

With a quick movement, you spun on your heels while lightly throwing in mid air the dagger you held with your right hand just to grab it with your left hand and try to stab the vampire while breathing a pained groan; earlier, one of his companions had clawed at your side, leaving you exposed, bleeding and suffering.

Somehow, you managed to take the vampire in front of you by surprise, stabbing him in the heart with your silver dagger; you fell forwards, placing your hands on your knees in the effort of balancing yourself as you were panting, your chest rapidly moving in the desperate attempt to keep up with your ragged breath. You didn’t know how you managed to take down a group of three vampires while being completely alone, but you were glad you could make it out alive with few injuries.

As you were about to collect your dagger, you heard an impressed whistle coming from behind you, accompanied with a slow clap of hands; you quickly spun around once again, just to recognize a very familiar figure.

«Minho.» you spat, taking your eyes off of him to finally collect your dagger and clean it using the vampire’s jacket.

«Little one,» he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you, «I’m impressed.» he stared to walk towards you, and before you could come up with a sarcastic retort, he cut you off, «Impressed at how you didn’t realise I saved your pretty ass once again.» you furrowed your brows, watching Minho tilt his head towards one of the vampire’s corpses on the floor; you got the hint, and immediately walked towards it. 

Once again, much to your dismay, Minho covered your back while you were distracted, since you obviously didn’t have the habit to claw at vampires’ necks before stabbing them.

«I can do my job by myself.» you said through gritted teeth, and Minho simply chuckled, confidently walking next to you.

«Yeah?» he said, glancing at the wound on your side; you saw his red eyes glimmer with a different emotion, and you had to advert your gaze and stand up, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you.

For a start, Minho was a vampire – a noble from what you’ve heard, and you were a vampire hunter; you didn’t know what made the both of you refrain from killing each other, you just knew that more than once, Minho had intervened in order to help you in your tasks.

«Vampires chase criminals as well, little one.» he had said once, «you shouldn’t interfere with our authorities too much, I can’t always play as your guardian angel.» it has been his justification for its continuous appearing out of nowhere to defend you, sometimes bringing unconscious vampires with them, and some other times simply settling for killing them as soon as he got the opportunity. 

Minho puzzled you; he never tried to hurt you, nor to get in your way. Even if you didn’t want to admit it out loud, he proved himself to be a great help, despite the fact that he kept teasing you about your “poor hunters skills”.

Another thing was the fact that between the two of you was an undeniable sexual tension; you lost count of the times where Minho had pinned you against the wall while keeping an unbothered expression and a satisfied grin just to prove that «you need to train more than this, if you want to win against me», and you lost count of the times where the two of you were so close that you were about to kiss. 

Probably, due to your status, no one dared to do the first step; giving in to you mutual lust would have meant that one of you had to irremediably give up something, and for sure, that someone would have been you.

«Then treat your wound before it gets infected, little one.» Minho simply added, before vanishing in thin air.

«Were there more than one vampire or is your boyfriend into some kinky things?» Jarette chuckled to herself as she was cleaning and disinfecting the wound on your side.

«He’s not my boyfriend,» you immediately scoffed, «he’s a stupid vampire.» you clarified, and she chuckled once again, not giving you an actual answer.

Jarette was the only one you trusted enough to tell what was going on; of course, just like you, she had been wary and cautious about Minho at first,but eventually her opinion started to change.

«Maybe, some of them are good?» Jarette had said one rainy evening, while the both of you were busy cleaning your weapons.

«Jarette,» you immediately cut her sentence, placing the dagger you were holding on the table, «do you realize that what you just said goes against what we’ve been taught since we were children?» with a sad smile and a somehow troubled expression, she nodded, refusing to meet your gaze.

«Does it scare you?» she asked, her short knife long forgotten on the table as she was busy playing with her fingers in a nervous way, «The idea of being wrong and therefore having killed innocent people scares me, a lot.»

«It scares me, too.» you hesitantly admitted.

Since then, the two of you never actually brought up the topic again, but Jarette apparently found hilarious the idea of teasing you about your relationship with Minho.

“The night is dark and full of terrors”, you had been taught, but nonetheless you often ended up training alone in your back garden, your ragged breath and the sound of the steel knives sinking into the various training mannequins were the only sounds in the silence of the night.

«Now I know why you can’t fight.» an amused voice mumbled against your ear, and before you could turn around and point your dagger at him, Minho had effortlessly blocked your wrists next to your waist.

«What are you doing here?» you whispered back, nervously looking around; you knew that no one could have seen the two of you since your back garden was safely hidden from indiscreet eyes, but you could never be sure about something like that. After all, Minho was a vampire, and you were a vampire hunter.

«I actually came here with a very specific purpose,» Minho nodded to himself before furrowing his eyebrows, «But that can wait…» you let him take your dagger from your hand, only to gently place it at the mannequin’s feet. Minho walked back until he was standing in front of you, both his hands behind his back; you quizzically stared at him, wondering why he was acting so weird all of a sudden.

«Show me what you’ve got,» he said, «let’s fight.» his eyes were glimmering in the dark, and you scoffed, not bothering to voice your actual answer; after all, you’d never refuse an opportunity to physically fight the boy which was so incredibly talented at getting on your nerves. As you quickly raised your leg in an attempt to kick him, he effortlessly blocked it, harshly gripping on your ankle.

«Didn’t work,» Minho shrugged, almost mocking you, «try again.»

«My, my, little one. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.» Minho whispered as he had pinned you on the floor yet another time; it didn’t matter how many times you and him had been fighting, it didn’t matter how many times you did your best to catch him by surprise and tackle him down, in the end, you’d end up pinned on the floor, Minho either sitting on your stomach or some other times with his body pressed flush against yours.

While you were struggling to catch your breath, Minho looked like he didn’t even break a sweat, his hair being slightly dishevelled was the only hint that could give away the fact that you had been fighting.

«Yeah, you wish.» you didn’t know the exact reason why you were on the defensive every time he provoked you, but you were determined to absolutely not give away the fact that you found him attractive.

«Who knows,» Minho winked with a smile, before letting go of your wrists, leaning back so that he was once again sitting on your stomach, «there’s a group of newborn on the run, they’re probably headed towards your village.» Minho suddenly said while getting up, somehow signalling your training was over. 

Furrowing your brows, you propped yourself on your elbows, the faint light of the approaching dawn colouring both the two of you and the landscape with warm colours.

«Why did you come all the way here to warn me?» you questioned, watching as Minho had started to walk away from you. 

«Don’t get hurt.» he simply answered, before lifting his hand in mid air in a hint of a wave, and vanishing in thin air. 

Could it be that he was worried for you?

Jarette wasn’t home, her mission wanted her to spend a whole week at the Capital, thing which not only allowed you to have the house for yourself, but also to think.

During the past days you’ve had thought so much about Minho that you were about to have a headache, your thoughts gradually getting louder to the point where you couldn’t stand the sound of your own voice overthinking everything.

The truth was, you were busy both focusing your hatred towards the vampires you were hunting and both keeping up your silly rivalry with Minho that you didn’t realize you might have developed feelings for him. But, how could you develop feelings for someone who you didn’t even know?

In the past months you had seen him almost daily, and despite he had never said anything about himself which weren’t essential informations, you knew that he meant no harm. 

After all, Minho had countless opportunities to kill you, if he wanted to; however, he never did, not even during the few times you trained together. Minho was always careful to you, actually praising you every now and then and also explaining few – pretty much dishonest, tricks to disarm your opponent, along with some other things you had never been taught from your teachers.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to despise the other’s presence.

Night arrived rather fast, and Minho didn’t hesitate to show up; he didn’t look particularly concentrated, and judging by the dark circles under his glimmering red eyes, you deduced he was probably hungry. Taking advantage of the situation, your training didn’t last too long, since you didn’t hesitate to clasp his wrists together with silver chains.

As you walked in circles around him, Minho stood motionless, the fact that you managed to handcuff him was outrageous; you knew that he was following your movements with his eyes, not bothering to turn his head anytime you walked behind him.

«Who’s the weak one, now?» you asked as you came to a stop in front of him, your eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips. Minho simply rolled his eyes, thankful about the fact that the silver handcuffs weren’t actually hurting him, since they were hanging loosely around his wrists which were covered by the leather of his gloves.

«Are you planning on turn me in?» Minho asked, knitting his eyebrows in doubt, not doing anything to hide the fact that he would have been sad about your meetings coming to an end. Truth was, you would have never done something like that; you knew what the hunters did to the vampires they managed to capture and you absolutely didn’t want for Minho to witness any of it. 

As you looked into his eyes, you realized that the nature of your feelings towards him was a haze that slowly began to dissipate; your gaze was fixed on his delicate features as the tip of your short dagger traced his jaw with a feather touch, and Minho closed his eyes with a sigh, not immune to the sting of the silver blade against his delicate features.

«I don’t know,» you admitted, «should I?» Minho’s gaze didn’t falter from yours, and if you were to be honest, you underestimated the situation; you thought that looking into his eyes would have been the same as any other day and you didn’t consider that you would feel your heartbeat suddenly quicken. 

Honestly, you wondered if all it took you for realize the nature of your feelings for Minho was such a simple yet fundamental question: were you willing to protect him?

Never once you had mentioned his existence to the other hunters – beside Jarette, and so, deep down, you knew you already had your answer for a while; actually, the answer you’ve been looking for has always been there, but you had simply refused to acknowledge it. 

Minho could hear the wild rhythm of your heart and somehow, it was as if he could hear your thoughts as well. Slowly, you took another step towards him, so that there was no more space between the two of you; hesitantly, you stood on your tiptoes, your lips brushing against Minho’s in a shy attempt of a kiss, as if you were testing the waters between the two of you.

Minho’s eyes were as wide as the moon, staring at you like he couldn’t believe if what happened was real or not; the secret hope that you would have stopped hunting people from his kind was as alive as ever in his heart, now mixed with the even more secret hope that you’d end up choosing him instead of your own kind.

Timidly, you adverted your gaze, misinterpreting Minho’s silence as a refusal; however, Minho was quick to trap you between his arms with a quick movement of his handcuffed hands, the silver chain now pressing on your lower back and pulling you to his body.

«Was that supposed to be your answer?» Minho’s voice was gentle; a sweet whisper against your skin, a stark contrast to the other times where he mocked you in the past; you were trapped, he was using the chain connecting the handcuffs to pull you body flush against his, and as you placed your hands on his chest, you realized that even if you could have chosen anywhere to be, you would have probably chosen the exact place where you were now. 

Before you could actually nod, Minho captured your kiss in a passionate kiss which you immediately returned, and shortly after, you found yourself pinned against he wall of your house, Minho’s lips kissing you with the same fervour as if he had been anticipating this moment for centuries. You felt a brief sting on your lower lip, before Minho started to suck on it with a soft and yet satisfied sigh; as you felt the bitter taste of blood on your tongue, you realized that he was sneakily feeding from you. 

The chain of the handcuffs was clinging against your back as Minho’s hands were on your hips, his left thigh between yours as he eventually started leaving nibbles and kisses along your neck; you forced yourself to snap out of your daze, realizing that not only you had finally given in to your mutual lust, but you also let a vampire feed from you. 

«Minho,» you whimpered at the feeling of his teeth pulling on your earlobe; you gently pulled on his hair, happy to see that you weren’t the only one driven with desire, «Let’s go inside.» you added, before reaching out to take the handcuff’s key which was safely hidden in your corset.

Minho didn’t honestly gave you much time to catch your breath; the two of you barely made it until you were in your living room, getting rid of each other’s clothes along the away, before he eventually let you ride him while he was sitting on your armchair. By the fact that Minho had his head thrown back and his fingers sinking in the armrests, you realized that he was probably holding back, thing which you definitely did not want him to do.

Therefore, carefully balancing yourself on his shoulders, you began moving your hips in a slow and teasing manner, taking some time to move your hips in a circle anytime you were completely seated on his lap and purposely clenching around him anytime you moved in a different way; if you were to be honest, you didn’t know how long you could keep this up, especially because his moans and hisses of pleasure were such an addictive sound you constantly wanted to hear.

«What game are you playing, little one?» the mere fact that Minho ended the sentence with a strained moan was enough for you to stutter on the rhythm you had set, making you instinctively stop to study his blissed out expression, and as his cold hands snaked around you hips, you realized that you were deliciously close to your goal, «tired already?» Minho’s alluring eyes finally met yours, and his hands effortlessly pulled on your hips so that you’d start grinding on him once again, only that this time you weren’t the one setting the pace anymore.

Instinctively, you leaned down to kiss him, and it was almost if with such a simple gesture, Minho let go of any inhibitions he might have had; this time, as you were restlessly moving on his length, Minho’s right hand was constantly placed on your hip with the only goal to pull you towards him a little bit harsher than needed while he was lifting his hips as well, meeting you halfway each time you rose and fell on his twitching length. 

Minho’s left hand was constantly travelling on your body, as if he was trying to make up for all the spot on your skin his mouth wasn’t kissing.

«Feed on me,» you whimpered against his lips, as you felt your orgasm approaching; Minho’s movements came to a stop, and he looked at you as if you had grown another head, «please.» you immediately added, your head filled with the desire of being his in any possible way.

«Are you sure, or is something you’re saying because of the heat of the moment?» Minho’s voice was gentle and caring, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel his length repeatedly twitch inside you, you would have found the way he gently pushed your hair behind your back extremely romantic.

«I’m sure of it, you-» you mumbled, interrupting your own sentence as if you adverted your gaze, looking for the right words to say, «you’re safe with me.»

«It’s not the best time to get emotional, little one.» Minho smiled with a breathless chuckle, looking satisfied and somehow taken back with your answer. Eventually, Minho simply told you to stay still as his fingers quickly worked on your clit, with the only explanation that he wanted to see you as you came undone for him; in the same moment your orgasm washed over you, you felt Minho’s fangs sinking in the skin of your neck, instinctively making you curl onto him as the sensation of your orgasm was being prolonged for all the time he was feeding from you.

The fact that the blissful sensation was mixed to the fact that Minho still didn’t come ended up stimulating you once again, especially when somehow, your fingers ended up on your clit, replacing Minho’s as he was focused on feeding from you.

It was something you couldn’t describe with words, and needless to say, no one of your previous partners had ever made you feel this good; as Minho’s tongue repeatedly licked over the bite marks he left in the attempt to make them heal faster, you felt your thighs shake, and another orgasm washed over you in a totally unexpected way – both for you and for Minho, triggering your lover’s orgasm as well.

«Where are you going?» Minho watched with furrowed brows as you were trying get up from the armchair, despite the ache in your thighs.

«Uh,» you mumbled, looking back at him while collecting your thoughts, «Don’t take it personally but your face doesn’t exactly scream “cuddles after sex”, so I figured I should get up…» Minho simply stared at you as if you were a ghost, before eventually erupting into a laugh, holding your wrist and tugging you on his lap once again; immediately his hands were around your waist.

«Don’t tell anyone,» Minho whispered as if it was confessing an extremely dangerous secret, «but I love cuddles.»

«I swear, you’re doing nothing in trying not to make me fall for you.» you whined, staring at the wall and eventually readjusting your position, so that you’d lay your head in the crook of Minho’s neck.

«Do it, then,» due to inertia, your head followed his shoulder’s movement as he shrugged; your eyes widened and your heart picked up pace once again, as you heard him say, «Fall for me.»

Minho ended up staying the night, and leaving before daylight – and Jarette, came.

One week later, Jarette was frantically running back home with the only goal to find you; she ran into your room, not bothering to knock, and you watched your friend with a confused expression.

«Hi?» you tried, waiting for her to catch her breath and explain herself.

«I’ve got some news, but you won’t like them.» Jarette said, her breath still uneven; you nodded, urging her to go on, «Promise me you won’t freak out…» she said, «They caught Minho.» you didn’t hear what she said next, because you stood up, and ran towards the village’s square.

It took you all your strength not to run next to the village’s chief and beg him to let Minho go, especially since you realized by the way he had been tied up that he had been tortured. Minho’s gaze shortly met yours, and your heart sank at the fact that his expression didn’t change; he was blatantly pretending not to know you in order to protect you, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less. 

As you were about to walk your way out of the crowd, two different hands stopped you: one gently pulled on your elbow – you easily recognized Jarette’s touch, while the other was placed on your shoulder. Immediately, you turned around to see an unfamiliar face, his hair dark brown and his features just as handsome as Minho’s. Your gazes met briefly, and as your eyes met glimmering red ones, you realized that he was probably Minho’s friend; he tilted his head back, and you noticed that there was a small group of vampires sitting on a house’s rooftop, not actually bothering to hide their presence. 

The fact that Minho wasn’t alone and was clearly about to be rescued made you momentarily feel better, but your happiness ended up being an incredibly fleeting feeling, as you heard Minho’s sudden pained groan. 

«He is the responsible of the attacks!» one of the hunter said, before he turned towards the village’s chief, «He’s the one that killed your daughter, yesterday night.» 

Clenching your fists, you gritted your teeth at the point you were probably going to have a headache; you knew Minho’s friends had everything under control, but you couldn’t shut up. As the village’s chief ordered his immediate execution, you pushed your way in front of the crowd.

«He is not the culprit.» you said, successfully capturing everyone’s attention, Minho glanced at you, his face unreadable.

«Shut up, human.» Minho sighed, faking a disinterested tone even if the truth was that he was terrified that you’d get yourself killed as well.

The village’s chief was quick to ask you what you knew about the matter, and you tried your best to ignore the murmurs shared among the people watching; you realized that you didn’t have a plan, but perhaps, you could suffice as a distraction and actually help Minho’s friends.  

«I know he didn’t kill the chief’s daughter because he never walked past the village’s borders.» you said, sure about your intentions to protect the man you loved, «And the reason I know, is because I was with him.»

From there, it happened as a blur; the chief ordered to execute you as well, claiming you were a traitor, but luckily, Minho’s friends immediately intervened, taking advantage of the confusion created by the people which were screaming, in order to take both you and Minho and run away.

Less than two hours later, you found yourself in the vampires’ shared mansion, taking care of an unconscious Minho.

«He’s going to heal soon, don’t worry.» one of them – Chris, reassured you, and you simply nodded, your hand never letting go of Minho’s. Slim arms circled your waist, and you relaxed, leaning back into Jarette’s comforting embrace.

«You still have to explain me why you came along,» you wondered, «You’ll be considered a traitor as well.» Jarette chuckled to herself, briefly explaining you that his one week long mission to the Capital was a lie.

«Remember Changbin?» she said, and your head snapped towards her at the speed of light.

«The, “my room is at the end of the corridor if you need anything”, Changbin? That Changbin?» you shrieked, pointing to the general direction of the vampire’s room; Jarette nodded shyly at you, and you playfully hit her arm, offended about the fact that she kept something like this a secret.

«We met recently,» she explained, «he’s-»

«Please,» Minho’s pained groan interrupted the two of you, «I’m not ready to overhear the two of you talking about eventual feedbacks on Changbin’s dick.» with fatigue, he propped himself on his elbows, and Jarette politely left the two of you alone and you helped Minho rearrange his position on the cushions, carefully avoiding to touch any of his wounds.

«Where did that brilliant idea come from, you idiot,» you expected to be scolded from him but, contrarily to the expectations, Minho’s words were full of concern, «don’t do it, ever again.» you didn’t answer, hoping that he’d somehow got the hint that you were ready to do that if he ever got in danger again.

«Promise me.» Minho spoke gently, both his hands framing your face so that you had no choice but look at him; in the end, you gave in with a sigh after the fifth time he asked you not to risk your life again.

«I love you, stubborn vampire.» you admitted, running your fingertips on his delicate features.

«I love you too, impossible human.» Minho smiled gently, connecting your lips in a brief kiss.

If few months ago you were terrified about the option of giving up what you’ve always believed in for the sake of a vampire, now you were completely aware that if anyone ever gave you the possibility to turn back time, you would have always ended up choosing Minho.

One year later, you asked Minho to turn you into a vampire on a spring morning; as the cherry trees were in bloom, your new life begun. 

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

↳ BACK TO NAVIGATION 💫 ↳ BACK TO MASTERLIST 🔮

#fanfics #stray kids scenarios #stray kids au #minho x reader #lee know scenarios #vampires au #stray kids series

[childotkw]

You have so many aus I'm starting to get a bit confused. Can you explain the different aus? Maybe just the basics of them?

Sure!

ruination

Canon divergence AU | lucemond

Lucerys survives the fall and washes ashore at a small islet. He is there for days and when hunger overwhelms him, he eats the only thing available to him - the remains from Arrax. That is the catalyst, and soon Cannibal comes for him, claiming Lucerys as his rider because they’ve both feasted on dragon flesh and therefore are the same. Lucerys returns to Dragonstone to the immense joy of his family, but he’s different, darker, closer to madness then he’s ever been before. His bond with Cannibal slowly turns him into someone more wild, more dangerous and bloodthirsty.

The war commences, only Lucerys takes to the battlefield this time with his wild-dragon. He is feared and respected in equal measure; and his growing obsession with getting revenge on Aemond for Arrax twists into something he struggles to name. On Aemond’s side of things, finding out his nephew still lives, that he’s clawed his way back from The Stranger and is gunning for him, is both a relief and the spark that brings his own desires roaring forth.

the salt in our blood

Blacks win AU | lucemond, side-Rhaena/Lucerys

Lucerys survives the fall, is picked up by some helpful fishermen, and is whisked back to Dragonstone. Instead of claiming another dragon, he fully embraces his Velaryon side and joins his grandsire on the sea. Through Corlys’ close tutelage, Lucerys becomes a renowned and respected sailor, and earns the moniker of ‘Sea Dragon’. Jace is killed during the Dance, the first major casualty on either side, and the death of his favourite nephew is what prompts Aegon to surrender and bend the knee to Rhaenyra, on the condition that his family is spared. Joff dies to a sickness as well, leaving Lucerys as Rhaenyra’s oldest living child, and the only one from her first marriage. Bastard or not, he is named heir to the Iron Throne, but he pushes that it’s only until Aegon III comes of age. To recover from the spiral he’s slipping into, Corlys takes Lucerys out onto the sea to have some adventures and give him a chance to heal. While out there, Lucerys is claimed by Grey Ghost, and they return to King’s Landing after a year or two. Lucerys marries Rhaena, and they become platonic best friends. They’re not in love, but they do their duty and have an heir on the way.

Lucerys is confronted with his complicated feelings for Aemond, and the two of them are caught in a push-and-pull game, where neither are sure what, exactly, they’re doing but they are still helplessly drawn together. Rhaena knows all and subtly encourages Lucerys to take what he clearly wants; and he later repays the favour when she looks for her own lover. It ends up being a strange four person agreement, with Lucerys and Rhaena married and occasionally and strategically planning to produce heirs, while still being with their chosen partners. It’s a quiet scandal that no one really talks about, but they’re all happy so no one dares question it.

new dawn

Reincarnation / modern AU | lucemond

Lucerys dies from Vhagar’s attack and wakes up reborn in the Blackfyre Rebellions with all his memories intact. He’s born to a poor couple, and though he’s distraught over what became of his first family, he learns to accept his lot in life. Eventually, he finds out that Aemond has been reincarnated as well, but he’s so angry at his uncle that he runs from him. This is the cycle they fall into for centuries. They die, are reborn further along the timeline, Aemond finds Lucerys to ask for forgiveness, Lucerys rejects him and runs away, and then eventually they die. Rinse and repeat.

When they reach modern times, Lucerys finally acknowledges that he’s been bitter enough and that he should learn to forgive. He’s the one to track Aemond down this time, finding that his uncle is at a dig-site of an ancient Westerosi city. There, they slowly begin to bond and forgive each other, only to stumble across some petrified dragon eggs. The two of them accidentally revive the eggs, and have to go on the run to protect the baby dragons from the people that want to kill / use them for their own purposes. Along the way, the two of them realise their complex feelings for each other.

dichotomy of loyalty

Modern / Mafia AU | lucemond

The Targaryens are a feared Family in the underworld. They’re violent, fiery, and rule with an iron fist. Laenor, Rhaenyra’s husband, is not cut out for the lifestyle and wants to leave. He doesn’t want his children, because they are his despite the lack of blood, to grow up in this world - so when the chance comes, he takes the only child he can successfully save, Luke, and runs. They escape to Essos, where their Families have little presence, and live peacefully for many years. Luke grows up and goes to medical school, volunteering at a clinic to get more experience while he studies.

One night he comes across an injured Aemond and offers to fix him up, unaware of their relation. Aemond figures out Luke’s identity and begins coming around more and more, until he finally gets permission from Aegon to collect their long-lost nephew. They ransack his house, beat and take Laenor, and drag Luke back to his mother, stepfather, siblings, cousins and uncles and aunt. He has to learn to navigate a bloody, vicious world and try and escape a family he has no memories of but who are all determined to keep him this time.

#anonymous #HOTD #ruination au #the salt in our blood au #new dawn au #dichotomy of loyalty au #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond

[revisitingfandoms]

I got an idea for a prompt to show how the cookies outside of their game of 'cookies and kingdoms'...maybe they are doing a session....like the one where they free dark enchantress and dark enchantress is hyped to be able to FINALLY play a bit! they end up taking a pizza break when the pizzas and snacks y/n ordered for everyone arrives and they pause to eat....maybe end up talking about the session and/or life outside of the game...like gingwrbrave talks about his non-saving the world (because world doesn't need saving since it's basically happy ending thing lol) adventures, dark enchantress could talk about the cake tower and how all the cake citizens and hounds are doing...ooor they can talk about the session and what they hope will happen in it and other session stuff they'd talk about as they eat their delicious pizza and snacks.

Sure thing! Although I kind've went with a more modern take. Both White Lily and Dark Enchantress are half sisters in this AU!

(Also I may have add someone else you might see later down the line for my own planning)

Enjoy!

ANSWERED PROMPT 2- BREAK TIME

The doorbell rings as the group pauses, The current dungeon master- Caramel Shade pauses in what he was doing and turns to one of the game watchers, “Can one of you go get that? I bet its the pizza.” From the silent thumbs up and the dragging a formerly dozing Eternal sugar- it was silent salt who was grabbing it.

Caramel shade then turns back to the actual game players, “Alright, we’re gonna wrap this portion up- As our heroes break open the moonstone containing white lily cookie- Her frown turns to a smirk as she changes right before their eyes. To our hero's horror- white lily cookie has changed into Dark Enchantress cookie!” Caramel Shade looks over his book, “If you could roll for intimation, Enchantress.” 

Reader cookie whistles at the Nat19 role from the white haired woman. The Kiddos watch on in a barely concealed horror. 

Caramel Shade nods, “As the moonstone crumbles- a great cake beast rises with her, its arm carrying Dark enchantress cookie upwards as it frees itself. She commends you for breaking her out of imprisonment.” The kids seem to wilt at Caramel shades next words, “Welp that's all for the morning session- we reconve at two sharp, anyways silent salt should be back with the pizza hop to it.” There's a minor bit of whining but the kids run to the kitchen to grab their slices, White Lily goes over to her older sister- and he vaguely hears the plans they were making. 

Reader cookie walks over with a hum, “So whats the future plans in mind?” Caramel shuffles through his notebook, “Well, I figured that since we’re working in the same universe as the Beasts and Blood campaign that Mirror Moon ran and our previous campaign that I ran, so you can guess what's coming up.” Reader’s eyes widen as they snicker, “Yep, I can’t wait to see Shadow Milk on the table again- that was chaos on its own.” Caramel Shade waves them off, “You go get some food, I’ll join later.” Reader walks off to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Reader cookie notes that the big fold up table was out with a variety of pizzas on the table with a big container with bread bags that was already halfway gone. Several of the younger members were seemingly discussing possible future plans and what they could do while a few of the others namely Strawberry crepe were suggesting that they just join DEC- It was hard to not snort what he was bopped on the nose with a breadstick by the younger custard cookie. 

Reader cookie hums to themself as they walk over the drink and decide to go for a water before nabbing a slice or two of pizza and bread bag. Mengering over to the living room they spot Dark choco suplexing licorice cookie, while velvet did the same to his dog chiffon and Choco Brute did the same to a giggling Poison Mushroom. 

Reader plops onto the couch beside pure vanilla- the older man offers them a smile, “So, I take it custard and his friends are discussing their future plans?” Reader nods as they offer a bread slice- the man originally tries to refuse what accepts after a bit of insistence much to readers' delight. They nod to his original question, “Yep- and I can’t wait for Custards reaction to when you sit down at the table.” The older man opens his eyes with a raised eyebrow before closing them, “Oh, so Caramel shade told you?” Reader snickers, “Nope, just said that thing linked to previous campaigns were gonna show up.” Pure vanilla lets out a laugh with the shake of his head. 

And Custards little screech after they found out pure vanilla was in their team was quite adorable.

#answered prompts #custard cookie the third #pure vanilla cookie #choco brute #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #shadow milk cookie #cookie run x reader #dark choco cookie #white lily cookie #dark enchantress cookie #red velvet #poison mushroom crk #licorice cookie #chiffon! #strawberry crepe cookie #and a bunch of others #silent salt is silent #Eternal sugar has been forcefully awoken from nap #run

[downstarr]

I'm very nearly finished my Spy AU, Versus. This suit, which I found months ago, finally makes an appearance in chapter 14!

Part 2 of the finale will be published in a few days, followed by an epilogue. It's been great fun to teach myself how to pace an action-oriented story and write fight scenes.

I realized that the story is structured very much like the season of a TV show. So maybe there'll be a season 2 in the future?

Versus (37927 words) by downstar Chapters: 14/16 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach & Israel Hands Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Israel Hands, Ching Shih | Zheng Yi Sao, Chauncey Badminton, Nigel Badminton, Declan Finch Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Spy - Freeform, Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Our Flag Means Death Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, Spy thriller, Action/Adventure, Action & Romance, Gun Violence, Blood and Violence, spy vs spy - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Action, Intrigue, Espionage, Jealous Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Seduction, Jealous Stede Bonnet, Trust Issues, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, spy gear, Disguise, Travel, World Travel, Trains, On the Run, Mystery, BAMF Stede Bonnet, BAMF Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Falling In Love, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Loves Stede Bonnet, Stede Bonnet Loves Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Competent Stede Bonnet Series: Part 7 of Gentlebeard Modern AUs Summary: Edward Teach, codename Blackbeard works for an intelligence and assasination agency for-hire. He's sent to kill the socialite Stede Bonnet after seducing him, but discovers that the man is much more than he appears to be. He's actually an MI6 agent, codename Gentleman, hiding in plain sight. Things quickly go off the rails when an attempt on both of their lives leaves them wondering who they can trust. As they become an unlikely duo, they are forced to reckon with the chemistry between them - and how that complicates their adversarial relationship. --- This fic follows in the grand tradition of James Bond, Salt, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, The Long Kiss Goodnight and Lucky Number Slevin. Featuring action in the tradition of spy thrillers, with a healthy dose of queer romance and an enemies-to-lovers arc.

#our flag means death #ofmd #fanfic #ao3 #ofmd fanfic #ao3 writer #fic rec #writing #fanfiction #spy fiction #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3feed #ao3 link #archive of our own #ao3 stuff #gentlebeard

[redfurrycat]

🤠💰☠️🐓Organised Crime Fic Recs🐓☠️💰🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: ALCwriter, Anonymous, Dalearden, Elizabethgee, Lemqnie, Mackwinnon, Renai_chan, Res_judicata, ToukoJalorda003.

> Daily Heroes > Vigilantes, Superheroes & Supervillains

white picket fence by res_judicata {M}

Whenever anyone from the kids’ school asks, Jake always just smiles politely and explains that his husband works for a big international company and that’s why he’s overseas a lot.  He doesn’t say that Bradley is arguably the ‘director’ of said company, nor that the ‘company’ in question is the Mafia. He knows a few of the other parents have their suspicions and that he and Bradley are the subject of their fair share of rumours and gossip. Jake just doesn’t let it get to him, he has his beautiful family and gorgeous husband, the nosy PTA mothers can go fuck themselves. For every, oh my, how can your husband bear to leave such a lovely husband at home with the kids for so many months of the year, Jake can read between the lines.

Live Until We Die by Renai_chan {E}

Speak Softly, Love

Jake leaves behind his crappy life in Texas and moves to California. There, he meets Bradley, a gorgeous man who works at a charity helping the homeless. They fall in love, and everything is sunshine and rainbows until he learns that Bradley is, in fact, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, heir to the empire of his godfather, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, who rules the underbelly of Los Angeles with ice-cold ruthlessness. Suddenly, Jake find himself embroiled in the dangers of the LA Mafia

Live Until We Die: Outtakes

A compilation of one-shots and drabbles of the Mafia AU.

Along the Razor's Edge

Jake's father makes contact after more than a year when the family farm goes into foreclosure, and Jake is torn between helping save his childhood home and leaving his father to his fate. Bradley steps in, but his plan to help Jake isn't received well by Jake's father, and Jake finds himself caught between his new family and his own flesh and blood.

An Offer He Can't Refuse by Dalearden {_}

Detective Jake Seresin has been on the trail of the Layton gang for a long time. When he starts getting too close he finds himself drawn into their world to the point where he starts to question everything he thought he knew about who he is and what he does. The fact he's also undeniably attracted to one Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw only serves to further complicate matters.

Whiskey Neat by ALCwriter {M}

Jake is fresh out of the Navy and living with his sister to help her through a nasty divorce. While he scrambles to find a way to keep his sister and niece safe he unintentionally falls into the tangles of Bradley Bradshaw. He knows Bradley is most likely bad news and he most definitely knows he should stay away from him. But when shit hits the fan- he has nowhere else to turn. a.k.a Jake gets mixed up with Bradley who just so happens to be a mafia boss.

The Only Exception by mackwinnon {E}

Organized crime AU. Escort Jake meets Bradley in a club while he's with another client. Bradley's instantly intrigued and makes Jake an offer he can't refuse. It's just business. Until it isn't.

wash out the salt from my hands by elizabethgee {E}

Jake's having a great day. He's just won the TOPGUN competition, he met a handsome, mysterious stranger at The Hard Deck who's definitely interested in taking him to bed... What could possibly go wrong?

cosa nostra (this thing of ours) by lemqnie {_}

Bradley is the prettiest thing Jake has ever laid eyes on. It's a shame he's a rival gang's heir and Jake has to kill him.

When Danger Comes Home (Don’t Ever let it Roost) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

Bradley adored his job, and it had been his dream to go into law enforcement as a kid. He had everything he’d ever wanted - except for a romantic partner, but he’d never even consider dragging them into his dangerous personal life. …Until he took a smuggling case involving Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, a known member of the city’s organized crime syndicate. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew, this time.

I only pray (don’t fall away from me) by Anonymous {E}

Jake Seresin has an acquired taste. It comes in the form of the clubs most desired; Rooster. His wide doe eyes, ridiculous pornstache that fits him so perfectly, and his tan, toned body. And what Jakes wants, Jake gets.

#Organised Crime Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

[thecatduet422]

Chapter One: Honor

Dragon King!bakugou katsuki x reader

Rating: Mature

Tags: violence, blood, dragons, its wartime babes so people might get booboos, romance, sexual tension, medieval politics, northern!reader, knight!midoriya

Summary: With the fury of winter on the precipice, and food provisions deathly short, you have no choice but to represent your House and speak with the Dragon King. The only problem is your Houses have been at odds for centuries, and the fearsome Dragon King is not exactly easy to convince... (GoT-inspired AU)

Chapter: 3/? (20,590 words)

AO3 Link

Chapter Two

Chapter One: Honor (3.6k)

Crisp cold air stung your cheeks, moving along to whip through your hair as you gaze at the land ahead. Hills of green grass blew with the breeze, carrying the scent of earth as you’re met with nothing but gray beyond it. Gray, only growing darker as it continues to bring forth the ever-growing chill that bites your nose and shivers down your bones.

Winter is coming.

Winter is coming, and you won’t have enough food for it. For the first time in history, the cruelty of the North is crushing your home. Walls of misfortune are slowly crumbling in, and the only thing left holding them up is loyalty. 

Starvation, surely, would be the breaking point.

Worst of all, your little brother is sick again. The oncoming chill hasn’t been kind to him, and as you gaze out of the tower, worrying what to do next, he lies helplessly in bed, mumbling from nightmares only a fever could bring.

Your mother was barely holding it together after the passing of your father, but now that her youngest child is sick, she has been inconsolable. Keeping the curtains drawn, refusing to leave your little brother’s room, refusing to listen to you, refusing to do anything at all.

“By all the gods, just leave me be, child! Just let your lord brother handle it! I can't…”

But there’s been no word from your older brother, the now-reigning Lord of the North. He’s supposedly on his way back from the war, trudging through mud and snow to get back home, but you don’t know when, and you couldn’t afford to wait.

Something had to be done. Now.

And as you stood at the tower, high above everyone, you decided to close your eyes, focus on the sound of the wind, and think.

Allies were slim, all thanks to the fruitless war your father started. The other noble families of the North have abandoned you. Multiple ravens sent to the East came back with no response, and you certainly can’t go to the West, the very people you went to war with.

That left the South.

It’s the logical choice. But, gods. The South. You could hear the men of your House now.

The South?! They, who broke their own promise to us centuries ago. They, who sit upon their thrones as if they were forged by the gods themselves and not by men. Nothernmen! They use our people for their own desire for glory, and what do we get?! Nothing.

Through the whistle of the wind you could hear the trees swaying in the nearby woods…

What do they know of honor?

Honor is worth nothing without people to defend it.

So you called a meeting, requesting to go South and speak with the Dragon King.

And like you knew they would, they asked the very question…

What do they know of honor?

Nothing, my lords. But I know everything about it.

Convincing them to put trust in you wasn’t easy, but you reminded them of the oath they made to your bloodline, and they folded. 

Unlike others, northerners were true to their word.

You later returned to the tower for your final goodbye, closing your eyes to tune out the bustle of people down below. You focused on the wind, on the sound of the forest, trees rustling like a whisper…

But you heard nothing.

The fastest way was by ship and, having never been on one before, you quickly found out the sea-life wasn’t for you. After reaching open water, it wasn’t long before your stomach started mirroring the motion of the ship, dipping down and then up again while the stinging stench of salt attacked your sinuses, all resulting in you hurling your breakfast into the sea. The sun, which was once calm and gentle in the North, was now beaming down on you with hatred, causing you to sweat profusely. You had to forgo several layers of clothing, which in return, left you feeling completely exposed, even with the reassurance that you were still appropriate by southern standards.

You practically rejoiced when you finally reached the harbor, simply happy to be on solid ground again. But your relief soured when you found that what awaited you was not a horse, but a carriage.

“It was recommended, m’lady. For your protection,” Ser Midoriya told you, squeamish at your obvious annoyance.

Another controversial decision made by your father. Not only did Young Midoriya not have any battle experience, but he was southern (“And as yellow-bellied as one,” you heard some guards say once). And yet, your father took the liberty of knighting him, even going so far as naming him your sworn protector. 

You quickly found out that, despite his lack of grit, the now-Ser Midoriya took his oath seriously, panicking anytime you showed any sort of reckless behavior. A highly stressful situation for him, as that seems to be all you ever do.

“It’s alright, ser. I’ll make do,” you assured him. 

It would do no good to stress out your knight now, not when there were more important things on task for today.

But your motion sickness returned once you were boxed in the death trap, with every small bump controlling your stomach like a puppeteer, helpless to its command. It took all of your willpower not to throw up again, if only because there were people in the streets and you didn’t wish to make more of a scene.

It didn’t help that Ser Midoriya kept voicing his concern throughout the entire ride. 

“Uh, m’lady. You should-”

“Not now, ser knight,” you groaned, desperately sticking your head out the window for air, people be damned.

“But m’lady-”

“Not now!” you snapped at him, the feeling of nauseousness fully overupting your patience. You knew it was wrong to snap, that Ser Midoriya was only trying to help, but as of right now you couldn’t care less. You’ll apologize to him afterwards, when your stomach wasn’t trying to leave your body.

By the time you reached the gates, your hair was wild from the wind, and you still reeked of the sea. Your main thought was that you hoped you had time for a bath before meeting the King.

Then you stepped out, and once your feet touched the ground your nose was hit with the sudden smell of smoke. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, less so than the smell of the sea at least, and having huddled close to the fireplace many times in your youth, it somehow brought you a sense of remembrance. 

And for the very first time since leaving the North, you felt a sense of ease.

But then a screech pierced the air, interrupting it. The sky grew black as a giant gust of wind hit your back, whooshing your hair forward and blinding you. You felt Ser Midoriya drape over you in protection. He cried something in your ear, but you couldn’t quite hear it through the rush of the wind. Once you felt the sun reappear, you blinked your eyes open and looked up.

By the gods…

A dragon, gliding up in the air with such, powerful ease. Its scales glistened in the sun with such a multitude of colors- you couldn’t tell if it was red, blue, green, or black. But you could see the shape of the wings and the curve of the tail, bolting through the sky in a speed you didn’t know was possible…

“Are you alright, m'lady?” Ser Midoriya asked you, shaking, as if the dragon was going to swing back around and eat you all.

You continued to stare after it in a strange sort of stupor. Knowing you had to put up a front for your men, you gulped down your amazement (and fear) and were able to let out a small, “uh huh…”

You knew there would be dragons, of course. In all the books ever written about the South, every single one of them mentioned the dragons. But obviously there was a vast difference between seeing one in a drawing and seeing the actual thing.

A dangerously vast difference.

“Shall we begin, m'lady?” You looked at your knight, then followed his gaze forward.

Of all the gods…

The Bridge of Han’ei. You’ve read about this as well. Made out of impenetrable blackstone, melted with dragon fire and further crafted by northern stonemasons. Your people

This was your history just as much as the Dragon King’s, and that fact angered you. In all of your studies of the South, never once did you find any mention of your people. Decades of building weapons, castles, bridges- this city, and for what? 

A broken oath. Dishonorable.

It was your people that put in the work. It was with the blood and sweat of the North that went into this bridge. But because the southerners have dragons, they’re the ones history remembers…

You took a step onto the bridge, placing a hand on top of the ledge. Despite its smooth looking appearance, the blackstone felt coarse and rough, tickling your palm as you brushed against it. It was also frighteningly warm, probably from the centuries it spent out in the sunlight. You welcomed the heat regardless, marveling at the beauty of it all. You could catch the subtleties of northern craftsmanship- the style of the bridge itself, the precision of its design.

The South may not be able to see it, but you certainly do.

And with that in mind, you began your march towards the castle.

*****

In reality it was a long walk, but you made it feel quick. Ignoring your knight’s plea to slow down, to wait for him, you strode ahead, staring at nothing but the castle gate as it grew closer and closer. You could hear the deafening screech of dragons above you, but your fear was gone. If they wanted to kill you, they would’ve done it by now.

You spotted the guards on the gatehouse away, scurrying about like ants. When you approached, the two stationed at the entrance stood tall, spears pointing at you with a, “Halt! Who goes there?”

You give them your name, stating that you wanted an audience with the King.

“Eh? The Lady of Kokorishi?” The guard on the left looked over to the one on the right. “Where’s that?”

“In the West, I think?”

You could slap someone.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Ser Midoriya raced up next to you, gasping for air. 

“May I introduce… the Lady of Kokorishi… R-Ruling House of the North,” he wheezed out. “We’ve requested an audience with the King.”

Your poor knight. The walk on the bridge must have been torturous with the weight of his armor. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to walk ahead…

“My lady!” A man, who you assumed to be one the King’s advisors, approached, carefully placing himself in between the two guards before you. “I hope you had a peaceful journey.”

“The winds weren’t kind,” you said with a sour expression, the rest of your party now reaching the end of the drawbridge.

“Ah, apologies for the difference in weather. You’re probably not used to all the sun, being up North and all.“ The advisor shot you a smile.  "But at least the dragons were a sight to see!”

A fly began to dance around his spiky yellow hair, and you took the time to grumble sarcastically while he swatted at it. “Oh, they certainly were…”

“Well, on behalf of the King, welcome to Tochiryuu!” The advisor bowed. “Denki Kaminari of the Arashi Mountains. I will show you to court, where the King is waiting.” Kaminari went to turn around.

“Uh, would it be possible to freshen up before I meet the King?” you asked. “As I’ve mentioned, the journey was long.”

Kaminari winced sheepishly. “Unfortunately, the King doesn’t have the time. Running a newly independent kingdom has him very busy. He hopes you understand…”

You knew it was unintentional, but you still felt a sting at the comment, remembering your own House’s war. 

You simply sighed and nodded. No use arguing.

“By the way, you, ser knight, look familiar.” Kaminari pointed at Midoriya. “Have we met before?”

“O-Oh, u-h…” New bolts of sweat ran down Midoriya’s head. He scratched his head nervously.

“My knight is actually from the South,” you provided, completely oblivious to Ser Midoriya’s small urges to quit talking. “Perhaps you’ve seen his face before.”

“I know I have. I just can’t remember where…” Kaminari scratched his chin thoughtfully, studying Ser Midoriya’s face. “Have you ever participated in one of our tournaments before?”

Midoriya choked, bolts of sweat raining down his forehead as he rambled his words.“You’reprobablythinkingaboutthatonetourneytwoyearsbackbutthatwassolongago-”

“The tourney!” Lord Kaminari snapped his fingers. “Right! You fell off your horse before the jousting even began.”

Ser Midoriya’s face turned beet red.

“Hah! Oh, the King was so angry. I thought he was going to explode.” Kaminari laughed at the memory, wiping a tear from his eye. He went to turn but froze. “Oh! I would recommend maybe hiding in the back, ser. The King still complains about that, even to this day…”

When Kaminari looked away, you glared at your knight furiously.

“I-I tried to tell you, m’lady!” he whispered. “On the carriage ride. But you wouldn’t listen…”

The realization hit you like a brick. So that was what he was trying to say. Great. Another obstacle to face when talking to the King.

You glanced back towards your knight, who was currently downcasting his head in shame, and you could tell he was on the verge of tears. 

You sighed, feeling your anger deflate at the sight. This was nobody’s fault. Certainly not Ser Midoriya’s, who was only trying his best. 

You patted his shoulder. “Ease up, my knight. There’s still so much to do.”

Ser Midoriya sniffed back his tears, wiping the ones that already fell with the back of his hand. He looked ahead with determination. “Right.”

You followed Kaminari behind the castle gates. Once you were inside, the air became stuffy, the sharp smell of smoke from outside sweetened with candles and incense. Wordlessly maneuvering around courtiers, soldiers, and servants, you snuck a glance around, surprised to see that while the Bridge of Han’ei was entirely made out of blackstone, there was a severe lack of it inside the castle.

It made you smirk. Even with all the tools, the southerners still lacked the craftsmanship needed to forge it.

“And here we are!” Kaminari finally stopped. You were now in front of two large wooden doors, both carved with beautiful images of dragons breathing fire, their eyes piercing into you like at any moment they could come to life. 

Beyond them must be the Great Hall.

“Once the doors open, you’re free to enter and state your plea to the King.”

“My plea?” you questioned. “You make it sound as if you want me to beg.”

“Well, wouldn’t hurt your cause, especially with His Grace.” Kaminari shrugged, then pounded on the door, the sound of it echoing off of the wood. They swung open, the breeze urging you to enter. And you did, taking one solid step into the great room.

Beams of light leaked in from the sides, their source coming from windows that punctured the walls. Specks of dust danced within them, eventually leading down to the cracks of stone on the floor. Perhaps the King didn’t have time for upkeep during the war?

But the main part of the Great Hall remained dim, growing darker and darker the farther it went down, to the point where the end was completely engulfed in shadow. You caught a glimpse of light from within that shadow, a shine bouncing off of any random light that reached it.

“What do you want?” The darkness boomed, filled with anger and impatience.

You could hear your knight’s armor rattle softly next to you.

“Your Grace!” Kaminari stepped forward, gesturing towards you. “May I present-”

“I know who she is!” it snapped. “What does she want?”

The question echoed across the room, followed by silence…

Kaminari arched an eyebrow at you, waiting.

Oh. Now?

You took a couple steps forward. When you squinted, you could make out the outline of a throne…

“Your Grace,” you began, still trying to see within the shadow, “if you know who I am, then you know I come from the Ruling House of the North and that winter is coming. The fallout of the war has left our provisions dangerously short-”

“And whose fault is that?” the dark grumbled before letting out a scoff. “Some House. Didn’t even think to call on me to help fight. Not even after I won my war against the West.”

Embarrassment crept up the back of your neck, flaring your cheeks. You remember bringing up the idea once, only to be immediately shut down by your father. “The North are a very proud folk-”

A snort interrupted you.

“-who don’t quite forget history as easily as you do,” you snapped.

“I remember our history, Lady!” the dark yelled.

“Well, perhaps I should remind you anyway,” you seethed, walking forward, “because it seems like you’re missing some things.”

You stopped, now able to see a hand draped over an armrest, decorated with golden rings. You looked over to the other one to find it grasping onto the handle of a sword, its blade large enough to decapitate with one swipe. But before you could falter at such a sight, you saw it shine, and realized the sword was the source of light you saw earlier. And when it twinkled again, you knew exactly what it was made of. Which sword that was.

You continued. “Missing things… like how northernmen are responsible for the Bridge, or for that sword in your hand…”

You saw the grip on the sword tighten, and you knew your words had taken effect.

“Centuries ago, our people were at peace, and in result some of the greatest creations were made…” You took a couple more steps, now catching the color red, covering what appeared to be the torso. A cape. 

Your eyes lingered up. The hair you could also see, blonde and untamed. The face was still in shadow though, and you could see nothing of it. But you could feel him looking at you, his aura growing the closer you got.

It was strong, intimidating.

Powerful.

You gulped down the lump in your throat and carried on. “For whatever reason, your House broke the promise it made to mine. And ever since then, the North has been overshadowed by the glamor and prowess your people pretend to have.”

“We don’t pretend to have anything!” The vibrance in the voice was lost now that you were closer. You could hear the roughness of it, the fury behind it. “We’ve earned everything we have, same as you! I’d like to see your people try to tame a dragon.”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “Regardless, my people were smart enough to keep their secrets of craftsmanship amongst themselves. The South hasn’t been able to forge blackstone ever since.” You looked back towards the throne, now seeing that it was also made out of blackstone, but it was bulky and uneven, a complete opposite of the Bridge. 

“Without lack of trying,” you said pointedly, and you could see the King bristle at your words. “Help the North survive winter, and we will provide our services again. You could have a proper throne, one for your new reign.”

The King huffed. “And how do I know you won’t go back on your word once winter is over?”

You scoffed, glaring into the shadow of the King. “You know nothing of the North.”

That made him stand, the King now towering over you as he stepped down, entering into the light. Step by step, all was revealed; brown boots, covered in dirt and soot. The ends of a cape, smeared just the same, but clean going up, revealing its blood red color. The torso, fit from years of combat and also bare, with tattoos of blue and red inked onto the muscles. And then the face, handsome and stoic as a king’s should be, but with crimson eyes that made your heart pound as they stared back at you. 

The aura you previously felt, the one tamed by shadow, was now in full force, its source coming from the eyes.

He continued to march over to you, and all you could do was hear the pounding of your heart as he drew near. Unable to speak. Unable to think. All you could do was take in the fury behind those eyes and let them absorb you, until all you could see was them.

“I know plenty,” he growled, finally breaking the silence. You were too busy staring back at the crimson to respond.

And then a cough coming from the background pulled it away.

“Hey!” the King suddenly barked. “Didn’t I banish you?!”

Spell broken, you looked behind you, seeing Ser Midoriya shakingly hold up a finger as he said, “Actually, Your Grace. I’m here with the Lady…”

The King sneered, glaring at Midoriya’s armor. “Your House truly is stupid. Who in their right mind would knight him?”

He turned away, and you felt cold, despite the sweltering heat in the Great Hall. The King began to march back to his throne. “Kaminari will show you to your rooms. You can eat, bathe- gods know you need it.”

Embarrassment creeped up again, and you turned around before the King could see it. You began to walk back, but faltered halfway. There was still so much you wanted to say, and now with your back turned, you had the confidence to say it. Looking back over your shoulder, you said,

“If you’re not willing to fix the sins of your House, by either honor or duty, then you have no right to call yourself a man, let alone a king.”

And before your courage could leave you, you walked out, without looking back, leaving the King speechless.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou romance #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x you #catduet writes #inspired by: @vampyrsm's forbidden flame series #@genderfluid-anime-goth #@iam-thevillain-of-thisstory #@cloudsgathering

[ecivons]

Zosan/Sanzo Fic list

I just wanted to make a list of the fics I've read/Fic recommendations for anyone out there. The ones in bold purple are my absolute favorites. (A lot have M/E ratings and Adult language)

Falling by sorrowfulcheese - The dialogue.. the pacing.. THE CRUST I loved it all. One of the first zs fics haha, it's only tag is fluff. It barely feels like fluff fluff, this is just Zosans personal brand of fluff.

Liquid Courage by sabershadowkat (E) - Sanji experiences drunk Zoro once and keeps trying to sleep with him. (!! some dubious consent the first time). The last line is what got me.

[I saved a lot of shadowsaberkat works, just scroll through their entire account if you're okay with M+ fics]

Alongside All The Way by sabershadowkat (E) - I liked the Adventures going on in the background of the fic. Sort of a compilation of Zoro and Sanji becoming more and more important to eachother

Bit by Bit by sabershadowkat - Getting together type beat. A few moments of Zoro slowly dealing with his emotions for Sanji.

Falling Blossoms by sabershadowkat - I'm usually picky about established but I love the way they write <3. It's short and sweet. Just a lil Zosan date.

Things Unsaid (E) - Established Relationship. Zoro gets injured and they're forced to wait out a snow storm while working through their relationship. (I love this person's characterization of them wayy too much)

Rules of Love (E) - It’s one of those fics.. (conflict, sex, resolution) just the way I like my Zosan. A little internalized homophobia on Sanji's part.

when you say by bluewalk - Unrequited Usosan. Zosan from the perspective of a pining Usopp. (Beautiful, a bit confusing but I loved reading it)

tricks out of your sleeves by bluewalk - Zoro and Sanji are forced to learn a few things about each other's past. IMO it's written pretty gen. I love the character exploration.

Myalgia by Salmon_Pink - An exploration of how Zoro and Sanji talk about thriller bark (they don’t). They used the mood prompt so well the tension was welling up in my chest the entire time.

Understandable by Salmon_Pink (M) - Another short fic by Salmon Pink because they write the two of them amazingly. Zoro and Sanji who will never be emotionally vulnerable with each other out loud.

destructivity is a poison that runs through our veins by wasteofmind (M.. its E to me) - They want to kill each other.

Residue of a Rainbow by Narcissistic_Ninny (E) - Zoro and Sanji go through a traumatic experience and maybe fall in love too. This person has amazing fics, but this is definitely my favorite. Zoro is good at hiding what he's thinking but you just know..

green with envy blues by adietxt - Really short fic with jealous Zoro. I saved it mainly because the narration is a little funny.

it's a long way forward by donutsandcoffee - Sanji can't smile because of a devil fruit. The strawhats love his smile..

you got that something by adietxt - Sanji is forced to stick to Zoro. Nothing but a bundle of fluff and self-indulgence that I enjoyed all the same.

(failed) Stewardship by LibbyLune - Soulmate AU. Sanji's has been dead for a long time. Author has such an amazing take on soulmates I love it. I love Luffy's especially. P.S. The authors note at the end made me fall to my knees.

the universe told me by rudimentaryflair - Soulmate AU. Zoro desperately hides his soul mark while learning about his nakama's. I like how its almost the opposite of how Zoro and Sanji were portrayed in the previous fic I recommended (when it comes to their opinions on soulmates). I love both though.

blood, salt and idiocy by rosie_peverell - Zoro gets a taste of his own medicine. (Sanji gets injured trying to save him). It's short and cute.

and then the sun came out by demonzoro (shrinewreck) - Takes place in pre-ts, post-ts and future. Zosan realizing they're "friends". Extremely Tender idk what to tell you.

a catalog of non-definitive acts by demonzoro (shrinewreck) - Zoro pines. Nothing I say could possibly convey the emotions this fic makes me feel. You just need to give it a read I promise.

for poor and poorer still by rudimentaryflair - Modern AU. Short and sweet. Zoro finally finds the perfect moment to propose.

how normal people do by rudimentaryflair - Namivivi Pov. This is so funny. I love the best friend drinking buddy dynamic of Nami and Zoro. This fic has funny moments that I remember in public and start laughing to myself about.

paging mr. swordsman by rosie_peverell - If I had a nickel for every Modern AU Zosan ficlet that takes place in a grocery store..

The Fall of a Hundred Things by LibbyLune - Sanji sleeps with Zoro after a party one night and it messes him up. Franky is the MVP of this fic. I love him. (Check out author for more good works)

End On A High Note by thisislegit - Modern AU. Established Sanji and Zoro have problems they need to talk about. (Oh how I love the ups and downs of a mundanely domestic relationship)

In Your Warm Embrace by marimoliciousness - Sanji is an idiot and realizes something about Zoro (himself). They get caught in a snowstorm.

migratory animals by donutsandcoffee - Sanji is strong in a way that fascinates Zoro

that's all for now!! I might consider adding more in the future.

#zoro x sanji #sanzo #zosan #fic reccomendations #coping thru fics is a lifestyle #Von fic rec