#i closed the whole thing in a fit of pique

[cryptic-doe]

quiet night confessions

wc: 1.3k

summary: when dean comes home from a witch hunt, he confesses what said witch had told him

warnings: cursing, age gap (reader 29, dean 41), slight mention of masturbation, use of y/n, slight mention of death/blood, uhh i think that's it?

note: my first time writing a chubby!reader.. so i pray that it is up to the standards 🙏🙏 also thank u to @deansposessive for the req and i'm SO sorry this took so long to come out </3

you still remember the night you lost your dad. the way his screams bounced off the alleyway walls, his skin being torn from his body… the blood. it must’ve been nearly eight years ago now, yet it all still haunts you, bleeding into your memories every time you try and close your eyes to sleep.

tonight was no different. no matter how many methods you did to fall asleep (counting sheep, warm milk) none of it worked for you. so you dragged yourself out of bed, and headed to the kitchen of the bunker to get some water. sam was out of town to visit eileen, and you had no idea when dean would be back from the witch hunt he went on, leaving you alone in the bunker. it always felt so empty in here more often than not. the space was much too large for you to be the only one occupying it most of the time.

you weren’t a full-time hunter like sam and dean, and you sure as shit weren’t an angel like cas. you were just kind of… there. you were the one who stayed behind, researching the lore that any of them might’ve needed. it was a little awkward moving in at first. the three of them had already created their own way of living and doing things. only for you to get thrown in the mix because of your unfortunate circumstances.

after your dad had died, you had no one left. so you called the one person you knew would pick up, dean. he picked up your call almost immediately, and was already halfway out of the motel parking lot before you even finished your explanation. that was nearly ten years ago now.

back when you were a nineteen year old girl and without all of these conflicting feelings.

you knew you shouldn’t be thinking all the thoughts you had about dean, but you just couldn’t stop. he was twelve years older than you. he was the man who saved you. who brought you into the bunker without a second thought, giving you a place to stay. but, over time, your feelings began to change. he wasn’t the same man that you looked at like a father figure.

instead, he became the man you envisioned on lonely nights when your hands drifted down your body. the normal glances only became longer, and every touch he gave you left you aching with the need for more.

and to speak of the devil, the man you were just thinking about walked right in. his bag was already discarded, probably threw it somewhere in the library. he stomped over to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and nearly chugged it down in one go. his eyes land on you at the table and he nearly choked on his beer.

“jesus, when did you get here?” he asked, wiping his mouth.

you furrowed your eyebrows, and looked up from your phone. “i’ve been here the whole time…?”

he rubbed at his eyes with a sigh, and you took notice of how sluggish his movements were when he moved to sit across you.

“did the witch hunt go that bad?” you questioned.

“no, i killed her in the end. she just… said some things before i did. i don't know what to make of it.”

that piqued your interest. “can i ask what she said?”

when his eyes met yours, you could see the conflict in them. a part of him wanted to keep it to himself, to suffer silently, just like he’s always done. but it was you. the girl he’s had a soft spot for ever since you entered his life. he thumbed at the lip of the beer bottle, before he muttered, “uh, she told me that i have feelings for someone i shouldn’t. someone who doesn’t fit in with all those i’ve loved before.”

your heart dropped when you heard those words. you knew that dean would never love you, not the way you wanted him to, but it still hurt to hear him admit that he was in love with someone else.

“do you have any idea on who this girl might be? i mean, this is pretty big stuff, dean.”

he clenched his jaw, and swallowed down the rest of his beer. “i, uh, i got an idea.”

“well, who do you think it is?”

“no one you'd know, sweetheart,” he muttered. a weak lie, that's what it was.

he dropped your gaze for just a second, before looking back up at you again. there was a look in his eyes… one of shame and guilt. oh.

“y/n… i swear i had a much better plan on confessing my feelings rather than this,” he joked weakly.

his previous words were slowly starting to make sense to you now. you felt like an idiot for not realizing what he meant. “someone he shouldn’t.” he was nearly twelve years your senior. you were the girl he saved, not the one he was supposed to fall in love with. “someone that didn't fit in with those before.” you knew what dean’s type was: petite, conventionally attractive. you grew up bullied by kids, believing that you didn’t fit into those standards.

at first, it affected you. over time, though, you grew to love the way you looked. you were plump and beautiful, others may not have believed so, but you were confident in yourself. that's what mattered to you. and with that, you just accepted the fact that dean would never look at you how you wanted. it almost felt like some cruel joke to you.

“dean, if this is supposed to be funny, it’s not.”

he pushed away from the table, and moved around it to kneel in front of you. “sweetheart, i promise you… this isn't a joke. i never meant for you to find out like this. hell, i never meant for you to find out.”

you shook your head, not fully understanding. “what? you were just gonna keep these feelings to yourself?”

his hand hesitantly reached out to rest in your thigh, but he didn’t follow through with it. that's when you leaned in closer, nose almost pressed up against his.

“y/n, sweetheart, we can’t do this,” he whispered.

and when he didn’t pull back, neither did you. “i want this too, dean. i’m not a kid anymore. i know what i want, and that's you.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed from you, before he leaned in to kiss you. he grabbed at your love handles, and gently pulled you to stand up. his touch trailed up to your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. and the kiss is everything you ever wanted it to be. it’s gentle, with just the right amount of passion that leaves you needing more. it sounds stupid, but you can practically feel the butterflies flying around in your belly.

your hands drifted down to his belt, but his hands reached down to gently pull them away.

“nuh uh, sweetheart. not here, not tonight. if we're gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. not when i’m gross and tired.”

you whined softly, but didn't argue. his stern gaze was enough to keep you quiet. he held your hands in his, and began to pull you towards his room.

the next half hour felt like you were living in someone else’s dream. dean sat you on his bed so he could leave to shower. the room smelled of him: gunsmoke and whiskey. when he exited the bathroom, steam curled around him. he was now dressed in some boxers and a white shirt. he sprawled out across the bed, back pressed against the headboard. he patted the spot beside him and you immediately moved over.

your head rested on his chest, and you could hear his heart beating. he ran his fingers through your hair, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“you can rest while you're with me, sweetheart. no more nightmares.”

a/n: this was supposed to be a smut... but i lowk started losing motivation so i do plan on writing a part 2 sometime in the future. i really hope u guys liked this one ! as i mentioned, i've never written a chubby!reader before so i really do apologize if anything is offensive or misconstrued in this :( pls pls lmk if u have anything u wanna see me from or if you'd like to join my taglist !! i'll stop yapping but i love u guys sm <33

taglist: @deansposessive @candytoothed @dixonwlkrs

[infinityactual]

Well I WAS gonna play WoW but

I haven't seen bytes per second anything since I was saving stuff to 3 1/2" floppies on the ole MacIntosh SE we had in 1994.

And for the record, this is on an HP Omen gaming rig connected to gigabit fiber with a high end router and everything else is lightning fast, but the Omen NEVER gets above 8 Kb/s when downloading, even when it's the only thing using the internet.

Roland your ancestors suck hot ass, dude.

[harrysfolklore]

can we have a little honorary wag blurb where she’s freaking out about meeting charles’s entire friend group but when she does , she gets along with them really well and baby chiara ADORES her 🥹

thank you for sending this request, i really missed writing about these babiesss 🥺🥺 i hope you like thisss

READ THE HONORARY WAG HERE

A few weeks had passed since Kika and Pierre’s wedding, and life had settled into a pleasant routine for you and Charles. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sprawled on the couch in Charles’ living room, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you watched TV.

Charles was in the kitchen, making coffee. You could hear him humming to himself, a soft, contented sound that made you smile. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you were finally finding your rhythm together, and it felt perfect.

Being his girlfriend felt perfect.

“Do you want anything with your coffee, mon coeur?” Charles called out, his voice carrying into the living room.

“Just some cookies, if we have any,” you replied, stretching out and snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Charles appeared a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies. He handed you your mug and placed the plate on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.

Charles smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I could get used to this,” he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It’s nice to have some time to just relax and be together.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “So, I've bee thinking."

You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by his tone. "Oh? About what?"

Charles took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "Well, we've been together for almost a month now, and things have been going really well…"

"They have," you agreed, smiling up at him.

"And I was thinking," he continued, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair, "maybe it's time for you to meet my friends. My whole friend group, I mean."

You felt a small flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You'd met some of Charles' friends in passing, of course, but the idea of meeting his entire friend group felt significant.

"Your whole friend group?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice casual.

Charles nodded, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah. Joris, who you've already met a few times, Riccardo and Marta, and a few others. They're really important to me, and… well, you're really important to me too. I'd love for you all to get to know each other better."

You almost melted at his words, his green eyes looking at you with a tenderness that made you regret not looking at them for so long.

It wasn’t just the idea of meeting his friends—it was the way he phrased it, making you feel special, like you were becoming an integral part of his life. But at the same time, your nerves fluttered in your stomach.

“Charles, that sounds… great,” you said, trying to sound confident, but the slight edge in your voice gave you away.

He narrowed his eyes at you, gently setting his coffee cup down on the table. “But?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little nervous," you sighed, shifting so you could look at him fully, "They’ve known you for so long, and I don’t want to feel like the odd one out, you know? What if I don’t fit in?”

“Mon amour, you’re not an outsider," Charles’ expression softened even more as he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, "You’re my girlfriend, and that means you’re already part of my world.”

You bit your lip, still feeling a little unsure. It was a lot of pressure—meeting the people who had been with Charles through thick and thin, who knew sides of him that you were still discovering.

“I’m sure they’re great,” you said, leaning into him a little, “but it’s still kind of intimidating. I mean, Riccardo and Marta have a baby. What if I’m awkward around Chiara?”

Charles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Chiara’s a baby. All she cares about is who makes her laugh and who gives her food. And knowing you, you’ll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, imagining a tiny baby giggling in your arms. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Charles replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I get it. Meeting new people, especially people who are important to me, can be overwhelming. But I promise, they’re going to love you. And more importantly, I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

His words calmed the nervous buzzing in your mind, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll meet them.”

Charles’ face lit up with that boyish grin you adored, and he kissed you softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. I’ll talk to them, and we’ll make a plan for next weekend.”

You smiled against his lips before pulling back. “Next weekend, huh? No pressure, right?”

He winked, squeezing your hand, “None at all. Just you, me, and my crazy friends.”

The following weekend came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you and Charles were standing outside Riccardo and Marta’s house, your heart beating a little faster than usual. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the backyard, and you could already hear Chiara’s high-pitched giggles.

“You okay?” Charles squeezed your hand as you stood at the front door.

“Yeah, just…" you took a deep breath, nodding, "You know, trying to remember how to be a functioning human.”

"Mon coeur, it's fine!" Charles gave you a huge grin, "Just think bout the first time you came to a race with Kika and met everyone. You were a natural."

You chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, and from that moment, I thought you disliked me for the longest time."

"Baby, we've talked about this," Charles raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I was just... reserved," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

You nudged him playfully. "You were cold! Barely even smiled at me. I thought, 'Great, Pierre’s friend is grumpy and doesn’t like me at all.’"

"And now, look at me," Charles laughed, pulling you closer, "Head over heels for you. Who would've thought?"

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. His eyes softened, and before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.

When you finally pulled away, Charles rested his forehead against yours. "I promise, they’ll love you. Just be yourself, like you always are."

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "Okay, I’m ready."

With that, Charles opened the door, and the two of you stepped inside, the lively sounds of his friends filling the space around you. The air was warm, the atmosphere welcoming, and as soon as you stepped through, Joris waved at you from across the room, and Marta smiled brightly, holding little Chiara.

"Well, well, if it isn't the girl who used to roll her eyes every time Charles spoke," Joris teased, approaching you and pulling you into a friendly hug.

You laugh, feeling some of your nervousness dissipate. "What can I say? He grew on me."

"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Joris winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Marta spotted you both and beamed, making her way over with Chiara balanced on her hip. Riccardo followed closely behind her, grinning widely.

"Ah, there he is," Riccardo greeted, pulling Charles into a hug before turning to you with a bright smile. "And this must be YN. It’s so great to finally meet you."

Charles stepped to the side, his hand still holding yours as he made the introductions. "Riccardo, Marta, this is YN, my girlfriend. YN, these are two of my closest friends in the world."

You smiled nervously but warmly, offering your hand to Riccardo, who brushed it aside to pull you into a friendly hug. "We do hugs around here," he said with a wink.

Marta followed suit, hugging you carefully while balancing Chiara in her arms. "It’s so nice to meet you, YN," she said, her smile warm and welcoming. "Charles has told us all about you. It’s about time we finally get to meet the girl who’s got him smiling all the time."

You chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing a little. "He exaggerates."

"I don’t think so," Charles teased, his arm slipping around your waist again as he beamed at you.

Another one of Charles' friends raised his glass from where he was standing. "And here she is—the woman who tolerates Charles better than any of us."

You laughed at that, feeling some of the tension slip away as everyone welcomed you with open arms. The introductions continued as more of Charles’ friends trickled into the conversation, each one greeting you warmly, making you feel like part of the group in no time. It was clear that Charles’ friends were just as kind and friendly as he had promised.

“I’m so glad you could come," Marta said as she sat down next to you, little Chiara still in her arms.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied warmly, already feeling more at ease with her friendly demeanor.

Baby Chiara’s curious eyes darted toward you. You waved at her with a soft smile, and to your surprise, Chiara giggled, her little hands reaching out toward you.

“She’s been so excited all day,” Marta said with a chuckle, adjusting Chiara on her lap. “I think she knew we were having company. You want to hold her?”

You hesitated for a moment, but before you could even reply, Chiara was practically leaning over to get closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her small, chubby hands reaching out.

“I think she’s made up her mind,” you said, taking Chiara from Marta. The little girl settled in your lap immediately, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes before giving you a sweet, toothy grin.

Charles, who had been chatting with Riccardo and Joris nearby, turned around just in time to catch the scene. His expression softened as he watched you interact with Chiara, his heart clearly in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, completely mesmerized.

“She loves you already,” Marta said softly, watching the way Chiara kept reaching for your face, fascinated by your hair and earrings.

“She’s adorable,” you said, your voice equally soft as you gently played with the little girl’s hands. Chiara giggled again, her laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but beam at her.

Charles crossed the room, his eyes still glued to the two of you. "She’s not the only one," he teased, placing a hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your temple. "She’s got good taste."

"You're such a sap," Joris called out from where he sat, grinning as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "Look at you, all gooey and soft."

“Careful, Joris,” Charles replied, smirking at him. “Don’t make me start telling embarrassing stories about you."

“Oh, I’d love to hear those,” Marta chimed in, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

“Hey, I’m not the one who once locked himself out of the house without pants,” Joris shot back, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone around the room.

Amidst the laughter, Marta leaned closer to you, her voice just above a whisper. “You know,” she said, glancing at Charles, who was still gazing at you and Chiara with that adoring smile, “I’ve never seen him like this. I can tell he’s really happy with you.”

Her words made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up at Charles, feeling a warmth spread through you as you caught his eye. He winked at you, completely oblivious to Marta’s words, but it only made the moment more special.

"Thank you," you replied quietly, feeling a bit shy under her knowing gaze. "That means a lot coming from you."

Marta smiled, patting your hand. "I'm really glad he found someone special. You fit right in."

Before you could respond, Chiara began fussing slightly in your lap, clearly looking for something. Charles noticed immediately and knelt down beside you, offering the small toy she had dropped earlier. As soon as you handed it to her, Chiara calmed down, grabbing the toy and happily gnawing on it.

"I told you she'd love you," Charles grinned as he watched the two of you.

"You're right," you replied with a smile, gently bouncing Chiara in your lap. "She's perfect."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You found yourself quickly settling into the group, enjoying the way everyone seemed so at ease with one another. Joris and Riccardo were relentless in teasing Charles, often making jokes about how smitten he was, while Marta continued to shoot you knowing glances, clearly pleased with how everything was going.

At one point, as the evening wound down, Chiara started to get sleepy. She nestled into your arms, her little fingers curling around your shirt as her eyes fluttered closed.

Charles, who had been watching the whole time, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You’re amazing with her," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

"She’s the sweetest," you whispered back, glancing down at the tiny girl fast asleep in your arms.

Charles’ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his heart completely full. He had never imagined that watching you with Chiara would have such an effect on him, but here he was, absolutely melting at the sight.

As the night drew to a close, Riccardo and Marta thanked you both for coming. “Next time, we’ll have to do it at your place, Charles,” Riccardo joked, clapping him on the back.

“Sure, as long as you bring Chiara,” Charles replied with a grin, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stood by his side.

Marta gave you a quick hug before you left. "Seriously," she whispered in your ear, "We're really glad you're in his life."

You smiled at her, feeling the warmth and sincerity behind her words. "Me too."

[theemporium]

Smut merry daquri with Luke and number 12?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

12. "No underwear?"

.

It was no surprise to anyone that the social responsibilities and duties were Luke’s least favourite part of being a hockey player.

He understood why he had to do it. He understood why management wanted to parade the players around sometimes, why they had to show face. He didn’t mind it all the time, when there were still links to hockey like coaching junior teams or meeting fans. But the fancy galas and events were a whole other story. 

He was shoved into a suit, slapped on the back and passed around a bunch of rich businessmen and businesswomen he did not know and expected to keep them happy. It wasn’t exactly the area he thrived in, not in the way Jack seemed to. 

He wanted to support the cause, he just didn’t like the superficial conversations and awkward small talk with people who thought they knew hockey better than the players on the ice. 

And yet, that wasn’t even Luke’s biggest issue at the annual Devils Charity Gala. 

No, his biggest issue was the fact he was expected to be sane and normal and so completely fine whilst you were parading around in a dress that looked downright sinful on you. 

“Hey, Moose, you good?” 

Luke blinked, turning his head to look away from where you were chatting away to Curtis and Reanne to look at his brother approaching him. “Yeah, why?” 

“Your face is all red,” Jack mused, hiding his smile behind his drink. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.” 

Jack’s grin widened. “Maybe we should get the medics over—”

“Go bother Nico or something,” Luke grumbled as he placed his empty glass on the bar behind him, ignoring his brother’s giggling as he made his way over to you. His hands found your waist easily, his body fitting behind you perfectly. “Hey.” 

You turned back to look at him after Curtis and Reanne wandered off, smiling up at the boy. “Hey back,” you mused as you felt his arms tighten around you. “You good?”

“Mhm,” Luke hummed, his fingers skimming over the fabric of your dress. “You look really pretty.” 

“Yeah, you like the dress?” You questioned, smoothing out the lapels of his blazer. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his cheeks burning red. “You could’ve given me a warning.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I wanted to see your genuine reaction,” you retorted, something quite like mischief shining in your eyes. “I like surprising you.” 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards, his tone lighthearted and joking. “Got any more surprises?” 

Your smirk widened. “Maybe.”

His interest piqued. “Yeah?” 

Your arms wound around his neck, sweet and innocent enough that if anyone looked over at the two of you, it just seemed like a wholesome moment between the couple. A moment to themselves, whispering sweet nothings as you leaned up close enough for your lips to brush against his jaw as you spoke. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Like this dress being the only thing I’m wearing.”

Luke blinked, his voice shaky. “What?”

“You heard me.”

He gulped. “No underwear?”

“No underwear,” you confirmed with a nod.

“Fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. “You…shit, babe, you can’t just say that.” 

“No?” Your smile was anything but innocent as you straightened his tie. 

“We still—” Luke could feel his face heating up. “We can’t leave yet. We still have the dinner.”

You mockingly pouted, patting his chest. “Guess you’ll have to wait.” 

Luke pressed his lips together. “You’re evil.” 

“Save the dirty talk for later, babe,” you snorted before pulling away from him. “C’mon, I promised Reanne we would sit next to her and Curtis for the meal.”

“It’s like you want to put me through hell.”

“Maybe.”

.

[riant-draws]

I have a math problem for you; how many pearls can fit within the volume of, say, a standard iterator chamber :)

little did you know, I'm an ex-engineering major. you are getting a Very Serious Answer

(disclaimer: i said EX-engineering major. there's a reason i quit and her name is thermodynamics. smarter people: this is your invitation to correct me if i wildly mess this up, which would be a great opportunity to embarrass me because most of this is basic algebra lol)

So! Since his puppet doesn't have an official height, we're going to work within my headcanons, which means that Pebbles' puppet is about four feet tall because I say so. (If you're curious about that, I've talked about the significance of his size more here—scroll to the bold text).

In physics, you do a lot of assuming, so we're also gonna assume that physics works the same in rain world as on Earth, assume that Pebbles' chamber is a perfect cube, assume that the pearls are congruent and perfectly spherical, and we're going to ignore the presence of his puppet and its arm (because determining the volumes of those and subtracting them would just overcomplicate things).

First, we need to find out how big his chamber is:

So, his chamber's volume is 67877.368 cubic feet.

Now, we need the volume of a single pearl, since they're all the same size:

Easy so far? Well, here's where it gets interesting...

CLOSE PACKING

Now we're talking about packing efficiency. Equal-sized spheres pack in specific, high-density arrangements (here's a Wikipedia page, and here's another, and a relevant section of a chem textbook). The densest we can get is pi/(3(sqrt(2))), shown below, which uses the face centered cubic (FCC) lattice.

This density percentage is how much of the total volume can be occupied by the spheres, which, in the case of FCC packing, is about 74%. (See the links above for where I got that bit of info.) And you'd think: "Great! We can just calculate 74% of the total volume of Pebbles' puppet chamber, and that'd be the answer!" Well... not exactly: it doesn't account for the pearls being inside of a container—specifically with how they interact with the cube's interior edges. The equation just assumes they're floating in space, but that's not true in this case since you can't have pearls clipping through the walls. (The reason this isn't accounted for is because packing efficiency is typically a concern in the context of how atoms fit together and form crystalline structures—they're inherently not "boxed into" anything.)

However. Trying to calculate exactly how many spheres can pile into a cube without the outer ones half clipping out of it is... difficult. At least, it is for me. So, since I'm already doing things like approximating the chamber as a cube and ignoring the puppet, why not go the whole nine yards and ignore clipping (for my sanity's sake, if nothing else). If you really wanted to, you could solve for the surface area of the chamber and subtract the clipped pearls to probably get a more accurate estimate (though hexagonal close packing, HCP, would be more efficient for this), but since we're dealing with volume, it wouldn't make a super significant difference, which is also why I'm opting to ignore it. Just know that the below result will be an overestimate.

So, to answer the original question: How many pearls are we talking?

597,967 pearls is our answer!

again, it's likely a decent overestimate due to clipping, but as I said earlier, we're already approximating anyway so whatever lol

more info here (might be the most clear and succinct explanation I've found)

here's a paper about this if I've somehow piqued your interest

[wholoveseggs]

Can you do a one-shot of elijah and y/n having sex for the first time together and elijah talks y/n through it then starts to get more dom

Teach You

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You are nervous about your first time with Elijah and he makes it an unforgettable experience.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet @ashloring ♡♡

3.6k words - Warnings: pure smut no plot, virgin!reader, slight choking, tinsy bit of dom!elijah, lot's of dirty talk, Elijah being very sweet as always...

The way your boyfriend looked tonight was driving you crazy. All he was doing was sitting on his bed reading, wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The way this particular shirt fit him and the way his hair was also a little messy made him look so hot.

He made you nervous, his looks, his body, his whole demeanor and personality just did something to you that nobody else could.

You were laying on the sofa across from him, enjoying the warmth of his fireplace and a book he recommended. After reading the same paragraph three times, you couldn't focus because of Elijah.

Your friends tried to hook you up with other guys in the past, but you never went for it. The guys would always try and pressure you into things and would get frustrated when you wouldn't go along. When Elijah would take you out, he was a perfect gentleman. You never wanted to do anything he didn't want to, and he always made sure to take his time with you.

This was your first serious relationship, and you wanted to wait until the time was right.

You decided that today was the day you were going to tell him, but you were beyond nervous.

You were a little embarrassed about having to ask him to teach you, but first you had to tell him that you were a virgin. You worried that he would reject you, that he wouldn't want to be with someone as inexperienced as you.

You had spent the morning getting prepared, you took a long bath, shaving everything, then shaving again, body scrub, applying lotion, the works. You even went and bought lingerie for the occasion, a dark green teddy that complimented your skin tone.

But after all of that you were just laying here, looking up at his bedroom ceiling, too nervous to even get on the bed next to him. And he laid over there, having no clue what you were going through.

The day progressed, and your nerves were starting to get the best of you. You were very inexperienced when it came to sex, so much so that you had no clue how to go about this.

It was a bit funny, now that you were ready to take the next step, you didn't know if you could. You had been laying on the couch for over two hours, trying to find the right words to say, trying to gather enough courage to do it.

You were finally ready, after much self-coaxing, and got up. You walked over to the bed, slowly, and sat on the edge.

"Elijah? Can we talk?" You asked, quietly.

He closed the book, putting it on his nightstand, and sat up. He put his hands on your waist, pulling you into his lap, you back pressed against his front. He could feel the lace under your dress and it piqued his curiosity, but he said nothing about it.

"Of course, my dear, what is it?"

You bit your lip, your cheeks getting hot as you felt his hands on your waist. You were suddenly shy, unsure if you could say what you had to say.

"I-I...um, well, I just-..." you started, stumbling over your words. "We've been dating for a while now and I haven't been honest with you about something."

You could feel your face burning, and you had to look away from him. His fingers played with the hem of your dress, waiting for you to continue.

"Well, you see, I've never-..." you began, trying to figure out how to explain it. "I've never had...sex. Before. And I want to do it. Now." You rushed out, not wanting to drag this conversation out longer than it had to be.

Elijah let out a low chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. He kissed the side of your neck softly, trailing down to the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

"I know, my sweet girl."

Your eyes widened. He knew? What did that mean? Was it obvious? Could vampires sense such things? You felt mortified.

"How did you-"

"It was easy to tell, the way you reacted every time I touched you. Not to mention you blush every time the word sex is mentioned."

You groaned, wanting the earth to swallow you whole. This was not the conversation you wanted to have.

"Oh god," you said, putting your head in your hands. "Is it obvious?"

Elijah hummed gently, his hands sliding underneath your dress, stroking your thighs.

"Not to most people, but I've been around for a while."

His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, his tongue coming out and licking the sensitive skin there. It sent a thrill straight through your body, a rush of heat settling between your legs.

"Are you still okay with this? I won't go further unless you are." He said, his hands stopping on your thighs.

You nodded your head, letting out a soft moan when his hands continued upwards. His touch was gentle and slow, but it set your skin on fire.

"Eli.. I haven't really done anything before... Please don't judge me if I'm not good at this. Or if I mess up." You admitted, biting your lip.

"You won't mess up, do you want me to show you? Teach you?" He said, his hands squeezing your hips. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Your mouth went dry and you were having trouble thinking clearly. The way his hands felt on your skin, his lips brushing against your neck, it was driving you crazy.

"Yes." You replied.

Elijah's hand slipped underneath your dress and pulled it over your head, making you feel very exposed. He tossed it aside and his hands ran up and down your sides, exploring every inch of skin.

"This is very nice," he said, referring to the lingerie. "I was curious why you were wearing something like this underneath your dress."

You smiled and bit your lip, happy that he liked it. Your hands were fidgeting nervously in your lap, feeling like this was all a little overwhelming.

He took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them soothingly.

"If at any point you're uncomfortable, or you want to stop, you can tell me."

You nodded your head, smiling softly as he continued to kiss your neck. He gently pulled down the straps of your teddy, kissing the exposed skin.

"I trust you, Eli."

He smiled at the nickname and continued kissing and nibbling on your shoulders and neck.

You felt yourself starting to relax as his hands explored your body. He peeled the lace away from your breasts and you instinctively covered them, your cheeks flushing.

"So sweet and shy," he murmured, moving your hands and placing them on his thighs.

His fingers trailed over the tops of your breasts, barely brushing against your nipples. You whimpered quietly and moved your hips, trying to find friction where you needed it most.

"Does that feel nice, when I touch you like this," he whispered, his fingers lightly pinching one nipple.

You gasped and your hips bucked involuntarily. He kept pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers, making your pussy throb with need. His mouth was hot against your ear, whispering soft praises to you.

"Or when I touch you like this."

His hand slipped underneath the lace between your legs, his fingers lightly grazing over your clit. Your eyes snapped shut and you gripped his thighs tighter.

"Fuck."

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" He asked, his finger running over your clit again.

You nodded your head, moaning when his fingers moved a little faster. Your legs fell open, giving him better access.

"What did you think about?"

"You," you answered, biting your lip. "About how it would feel if it was you instead."

His cock twitched in his pants, and he had to stop himself from taking you right then and there. He was going to show you everything, how to make love, how to have rough sex, how to give him a blow job, anything you wanted.

"Tell me, have you thought about this? About having sex with me?"

He pushed the lace aside and slipped two fingers inside your wet pussy, groaning when he felt how tight you were. You moaned and arched your back, rocking your hips against his fingers.

You could barely form words, but he nipped at your neck, encouraging you to answer.

"I thought about...ah, fuck, I thought about you fucking me." You whimpered, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

"How?" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"Rough. You fucking me against the wall or over the kitchen table. And...oh, shit, and, uhm, riding you. You holding my hips, guiding me." You were blushing furiously as you spoke, you were shocked by the words tumbling out of your mouth.

Elijah could have easily came right then, the images flashing through his mind of him taking you every way possible. He was going to do all of those things to you, but he had to control himself. He had to take his time with you.

"And what else?" He asked, his voice a deep whisper as he fucked you with his fingers.

"Ah, ah...I don't remember. Everything, I think. I don't know." You panted, moaning when his thumb pressed against your clit.

You could hear the wet sounds his fingers made as they moved inside you, making your face heat up. You were so embarrassed and turned on at the same time.

You looked down at his hand, at his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you bit your lip. The sight alone had you on the edge, so close to coming, and he knew it.

"That's it, sweetheart. I can feel you tightening around my fingers," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

Elijah had to restrain himself, had to fight off the urge to bend you over his knee and spank you. To pin you down and fuck you. He knew that you had no experience, but he couldn't deny how hot you were when you talked like that, telling him all your dirty thoughts and desires.

You whimpered and dug your nails into his thighs. Rolling your hips, meeting the movement of his fingers, and trying to chase after that high. Your legs started shaking as he thrust his fingers faster, his thumb circling your clit.

He sucked and bit on your neck and your orgasm hit you out of nowhere. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you let out a cry. You moaned and shook as pleasure rolled over your body, making your vision go black.

Elijah slowed his fingers down, rubbing your clit lightly until you were completely done. You turned your head to the side and caught his lips, kissing him sloppily.

Your lips were still pressed against his when you slid your hands over his pants. You could feel the hard bulge beneath them and you palmed it gently, testing the waters.

He smiled against your lips and flipped you over onto your back. Your back hit the bed and his hand came up to wrap around your neck, pinning you underneath him. You let out a surprised squeal and felt yourself growing wetter.

"What do you think you're doing?" He teased, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at you.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only a gasp came out. The way his hand gripped your throat sent heat rushing through you. He held your neck a little tighter and your legs fell open on their own, making room for him to settle between them.

He pressed his cock against you, letting you feel how hard he was through his pants.

"Do you see what you're doing to me, darling?"

You nodded and rolled your hips against him. His lips were pressed against your ear as he whispered to you, his hand moving from your neck to grip your waist.

He tore the teddy away from your body, throwing the scraps of material over his shoulder. His eyes took in every inch of your exposed skin, drinking in every detail.

You tried to close your legs, to cover yourself up, but he was having none of that. He lowered his head and kissed down the valley between your breasts, over your stomach, and to the inside of your thighs. His breath ghosted over your skin as his fingers pushed back inside you, his mouth going straight to your clit.

You moaned, your hands flying to his head and grabbing his hair. He let out a sexy groan and sucked gently on the sensitive bud, making you moan and whimper. You weren't expecting it and the sensation took over, your second orgasm rushing over you quickly.

He continued licking your clit through your orgasm, only pulling away when you were completely spent. Your chest heaved and you panted as he pulled his fingers out, his hands coming up to your thighs to keep them spread open.

"Eli, that felt so good," you whimpered.

He kissed your clit once more, making your legs jerk. You looked down to see him crawling up your body, a smirk on his face. He hovered over you, kissing you roughly, his lips tasting of yourself. You moaned and pulled him closer, feeling his clothed erection against your pussy.

He moved your hips and pushed your legs further apart. Then quickly undid his belt and pulled down his pants, releasing his hard cock. Your eyes widened and your hands flew to his chest, holding yourself up. He was going to be a lot bigger than you expected, and you felt a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach.

His face softened and he smiled at you gently. "You're so tight, and wet, and your body was made for me to fuck," he whispered, pushing your legs up, and making your knees touch your chest.

He gripped the base of his cock and ran it up and down your pussy, getting himself slick with your wetness. Then he rubbed the tip against your clit and over your pussy, teasing you.

"You can tell me to stop, and I will." he promised, placing kisses down the column of your neck.

He held your thighs down and pressed his cock against your wet heat. He slid his cock along your slit, groaning when the tip caught against your entrance.

Your hands fisted in the bedsheets, gripping them tightly as he continued teasing you. Then you felt his hips shifting, and you moaned as he pushed his cock inside you.

Elijah looked up and your eyes locked, his hand coming up to brush away your hair. He paused for a moment, waiting for you to adjust to the size of his cock, before slowly sliding it deeper inside.

He watched your face, taking in the way you reacted to everything. Your head fell back as you moaned loudly, his cock filling you up, stretching your pussy in ways you had never known possible. He rocked his hips gently, sliding out of your cunt until he was almost completely out, and then he snapped them back.

You gasped at the sudden movement, feeling the sharp pleasure coursing through your body.

He smiled and kissed you. "Good?" He whispered.

Your answer was lost on your lips, as you nodded your head. He held onto your waist, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusts. He looked down, watching his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole, and he growled, pulling your hips closer to his.

He slowly grinded into your pussy, your clit rubbing against the base of his cock as he fucked you. Your wetness coating his cock, and he knew you were enjoying this just as much as he was. He pulled your hips closer, pushing deeper inside you.

Your eyes rolled back and you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders. He kissed the side of your neck and murmured sweet praises in your ear, his breath tickling the skin of your neck.

"That's it, baby."

You moaned, feeling a third orgasm building. His hand snaked between your legs and rubbed your clit. Your head fell back against the pillows as you arched your back, the pleasure making your vision go blurry.

He chuckled at how easy you were to please, but he wasn't done with you just yet. His cock kept hitting all the right places as he thrust his cock into you, the feeling of being inside you better than he had ever imagined.

"Tell me," he whispered, "tell me how it feels."

You opened your mouth to reply, but all you could do was whimper.

His fingers worked your clit as he pounded his cock into you, your pussy clenching around his length as you came.

Something in him snapped at the sight of your climax. The feeling of your tight cunt around his cock was too much for him to handle and he let himself go, thrusting hard and fast.

His hands squeezed your thighs, spreading them wider, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his mouth on your neck, moaning against your skin as he pounded you.

"So good, sweetheart. So tight and warm," he growled. "Cum for me one more time,"

He gave a particularly rough thrust and your nails dug into his arms, leaving marks in their wake. You were a babbling mess beneath him, your pussy milking his cock for all its worth.

He suddenly pulled out and you whimpered. You weren't ready to have him out of you yet.

"No, Eli, please don't stop," you pleaded, your hand reaching for his cock.

You wrapped your fingers around the base and pulled it back, trying to push it back inside. He slapped your hand away and grinned, flipping you over so you were on your stomach.

He pulled your hips up, until you were on your knees, with your face in the pillows. He smacked your ass hard before lining his cock back up to your pussy and thrusting in all at once.

Your hips bucked, your walls tightening around his length as he buried his cock inside you again. You gasped at the intrusion, not used to this new angle, but soon your pussy was relaxing, stretching around his thick cock.

Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you as you pressed your hips back to meet his thrusts, taking every inch of his length as he slammed his hips forward.

Your fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly and your toes curled as another orgasm quickly approached. It felt like fire was coursing through your veins as your cunt spasmed around his cock.

He bent over you, pressing his chest against your back as his thrusts became deeper and harder, making you see stars. You whimpered as your legs shook from the intensity of the orgasm. He placed soft kisses down your back, letting out a low groan as he filled you with his cum, your name slipping past his lips as he finished.

Elijah wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled out of you. He flipped you over so that you were facing him. You were sweaty and hair was sticking to your forehead, but you were smiling. He rolled off you, and collapsed on the bed beside you. He looked at you with a soft smile on his face as he panted heavily.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your cheek. You rested your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat as it slowed.

He stroked your hair softly, kissing the top of your head. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

You looked up at him, nodding your head and smiling softly. "I'm good. It felt really good," you answered, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he told you, kissing your forehead and leaving the bedroom.

You laid your head down and closed your eyes. You could feel your legs starting to ache from being bent and your pussy throbbing from the overuse, but it was a good feeling. It made you feel happy.

A few moments later he came back to the room with a small towel and some warm water, a soft smile on his face when he saw you in bed waiting for him.

He gently cleaned the cum from between your legs and you winced when he touched your clit, the bundle of nerves sensitive.

He let out a chuckle, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, just sore. It'll be fine."

You tried to roll out of the bed, but he stopped you, placing his hands on your hips and pushing you back onto your back.

He crawled over top of you, his eyes searching your face, taking in the details of your skin. The softness of your cheeks, the curve of your jawline, the way your lashes rested against your cheeks. You were so beautiful, he was honored to call you his own.

"What?" You asked, squirming beneath his intense gaze.

"I'm just...taking in the sight of you. It's beautiful," he answered, stroking your cheek.

You blushed, your face growing warm as he complimented you. You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He kissed your forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment, before pulling back slightly.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes and he smiled, stroking your cheek.

"I love you, sweetheart," he said, brushing his nose against yours. "You were perfect tonight, and I'm glad to have you in my life."

"I love you too, Eli," you whispered.

"Rest up," he said, kissing your forehead again. "I'm not done with you just yet."

Your cheeks heated and your eyes widened, but you smiled softly, nuzzling into his chest as you slowly fell asleep in his arms.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229

[theaceace]

I know that canonically (show-wise, at least) St Hilarion's worked to cover up Charles' death, and nothing was ever really done about the disappearance of Edwin and the other boys, but even so, do you think the school has a reputation for being haunted??

I'm imagining Niko following various ghost-hunter groups online, especially when the agency doesn't have many cases going on, and occasionally the boys will mirror hop over to an interesting-sounding location, and they'll even get a real case as a result

So when she tells them that one of the teams is planning to investigate St Hilarion's (either it's been closed for a while or they have special permission to go during the summer holidays), Edwin and Charles steel themselves and decide to go, in case there are other ghosts there that need help ('can't imagine a worse place to be trapped for the rest of my afterlife' says Charles, who has been to literal hell. Edwin, who spent 70 years in literal hell, agrees)

So they go, with Niko and Crystal as moral/emotional support, except when they get there they realise they've fucked up and are there on the same day/night as the ghost hunters. They could come back some other time, but what if there really are ghosts here that are suffering? No one wants to take that chance, so Crystal uses her powers to convince them that she and Niko are there for work experience, or are friends of a friend, or are here to replace one of the tech guys who called in sick

Both Charles and Edwin are tense and uncomfortable returning to the place they died - Edwin had gone there after he escaped Hell because he didn't know where else to go, but they've built themselves a home now with the agency. This isn't like before, when it was the closest place to familiar he could find. Charles, meanwhile, feels colder and colder the longer they're there - his hair is wet, there are bruises flaring and spreading, and a faint rattle in his chest that would have become pneumonia if he'd lived long enough

But they need to be sure there aren't any other lost ghosts stuck here that need their help crossing over, so they keep going

(maybe, as a consequence of a door to hell being opened in the school, there are unusual happenings, maybe there's still a place where the line between earth and hell is very thin, maybe there's some fragment of a demon left behind, and they can do something about it)

Anyway, the most important thing is that Charles, either accidentally or in a fit of pique at the whole situation, knocks something over just as one of the paranormal investigators is asking for spirits to make their presence known. In fact, this happens repeatedly - the boys move things, change things around, their presence is detected somehow with the equipment. Crystal and Niko are doing their best to distract the team and ruin as much of the footage as possible, and at least once the boys do something on purpose, maybe because someone is being a creep to the girls (and yes, they both know that Crystal and Niko are more than capable of taking care of themselves, but this way scares the asshole more and is also funnier), and then also to fuck with their readings

Anyway, it's coming to the end of the night, the problem has been identified, and whaddaya knows, of course it's in the attic where they both died. This is fine, why wouldn't it be fine. They get started, draw some (invisible, ghostly) runes and start working their magic when, of course, the paranormal investigators turn up, because this is thought to be the most 'active' area of the school, and the body of a schoolboy was found here in the 80s

Yeah, they try to contact 'any of the boys who disappeared in 1916' and Charles. It would be fine if they weren't so irritatingly loud, Edwin's trying to concentrate, and Charles is now shivering and dripping wet, but they managed to ignore the team right up until they start speculating that Charles was killed by one of the angry spirits from 1916

At which point, Charles - half visible, clearly enraged, looking very much like the half-drowned and frozen kid he was, like a proper ghost - tells them to fuck off already before they get hurt, they don't understand anything, and how dare they give a shit now when it's too late

Which is, of course, the exact moment Edwin finishes the spell, and causes some sort of a magical rebound that fritzes the cameras for a second, throws furniture around, and knocks them all flying. When the cameras start up again, they catch Edwin kneeling by Charles, holding his hand, and softly telling him that it's ok, it's over, they can go now. Charles sniffs and smiles and knocks their foreheads together and says yeah, let's get out of here, and together they fade from view

The investigators think this means gay love can pierce the veil of death and save the day that now that the truth of their story is known the ghosts have moved on, and it's all thanks to them! How beautiful, how wonderful, how affirming! Perhaps one of the boys from 1916 tried to help Charles, and when that didn't work, they both stayed to try and protect other people from these violent spirits, and now their unfinished business is finished! It's so tragic and touching story

Charles and Edwin, who are putting their tools back in the backpack, roll their eyes and smile at each other

On the way out, Charles swipes the memory cards from the cameras, Edwin inscribes a couple of sneaky runes on various pieces of equipment to fuck with it, and Crystal uses her powers to make sure they all remember a couple of details differently, so later they won't be able to agree on a bunch of stuff

The episode they were trying to make can't be released, their social media posts about the experience are full of details that don't match up, and fans are bitterly disappointed

Crystal and Niko watch the footage Charles stole with Jenny and the Night Nurse back at the agency. Jenny turns it into a drinking game. Charles does a dramatic reading of the posts with added commentary while Edwin pretends he's not laughing. They buy t-shirts of the paranormal investigators and wear them ironically. They leave anonymous comments

Just. The dead boy detectives having to work around ghost hunters, in a world where ghosts definitely, tangibly exist

[batman-dc-imagines]

BTAS Riddler and Mad Hatter getting fan mail from a teenage reader (platonic)

Overview: Both receive fan mail while in Arkham.

BTAS!Riddler

Relation: Platonic

You’ve piqued his curiosity.

But he is also skeptical of you.

Depending on what kind of fan mail you send him, he always reads over it a few times to make sure he’s seeing things right. Is this kid serious? Is his initial thought. After getting more fan mail, he quickly realizes you are in fact serious.

As soon as he gets over the whole skeptical stage, it’s all downhill from there.

If he can, he’ll write back to you.  Asking pretty vague questions. If you tell him you’re his biggest fan, he’ll most likely call your bluff and send you a riddle. If you answer correctly, he’ll send more that are harder. 

If you’re able to prove to him just how much of a fan you are, don’t think he won’t forget about you once he breaks out. When he does find out where you live, his first thought when seeing you is basically:

You’re his kid now. Well, depending on your relationship at home. If you aren’t happy with the people you’re with now, he’ll take you with him as a young prodigy. Even then, if you’re happy with your folks or whoever it is you’re staying with, he’ll still let you work for him if it’s what you want. I mean, who wouldn’t?

BTAS!Mad Hatter

Relation: Platonic

Oh boy.

You fit perfectly into his alice in wonderland fantasy. Obviously he not in the romantic sense but definitely wants to have a close friendship with you.

You don’t have blonde hair or blue eyes? Oh that shouldn’t be a problem. You being a fan is perfect enough.

He’ll write back to you almost immediately. He’ll write little poems that relate to Alice in wonderland and he’ll even create a custom made hat for you! Along with other little knick knacks.

You're the first thing on his mind when he escapes Arkham. Similar to the Riddler, he’ll offer you the choice to become his prodigy. If you decline, he’ll still be satisfied with having your friendship.

[mjrtaurus]

Hallmark dragodile..

Crocodile is a business mogul, he has everything he could ever want. Living in LA, racing his high end car and sipping scotch overlooking the city from his high rise.

Then his father has a heart attack and he has to pack his things and head to rural Iowa? Idk us states.

Anyway he has to help run his adoptive dad’s farm for the next 6 months. No problem, he can’t totally do that.

Oh dear god it’s hell, no it’s literal hell. Everyone knows that he’s one Edward newgates sons and everyone has opinions on everything he does.

He has never been so glad to be stealth than in this situation.

The first run in with Dragon is at the hardware store (because of course he had to go to a hardware store because the porch is falling apart)

Croc is so busy counting to ten while smiling politely at the owner ringing up his purchase of new lumber and nail gun, he doesn’t notice the ringing of the bell as someone enters.

What he does notice is how the owner immediately stiffens up.

“Let me give you some free advice dear.” As if she hadn’t been doing that for the past hour.

“Stay away from that man.”

Crocodile gives a glance, but all he gets is a mane of dark hair and a jean jacket disappearing into the shelves. He raises an eyebrow

The owner grimaces “he’s Garps boy, his father is a good man but Dragon?” She clicks her tongue. “He’s trouble.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Clips out Croc cause he doesn’t care about townie gossip. He has to get back to deal with the horses.

It’s another two weeks before he actually meets Dragon. A knock on the door around 7 pm, crocodile answers while Edward looks on with interest.

Crocodile opens the door to a whole lotta man. Cradling Stefan like a baby.

The first thing that catches crocs eye is the tattoo bright, stark lines cross crossing over a dark eye.

The second thing is that Dragon is hot.

A hoarse rumble emanates from the man in question. “Found stef in the chicken coop again.”

“Oh he must have been catching up with Mitski.” Edward crows “you know their good friends”

Dragon nods, drops a “sleep well Newgate.” And leaves sans dog within a manner of seconds.

Crocodile closes the door “that’s Dragon?” He asks a little in disbelief.

His dad nods, Stefan firmly planted at his feet. “Aye, and don’t you go making any trouble for him. Lord knows the boys already had enough for two lifetimes.”

“Pretty sure patty at the hardware said, He was the trouble.” Crocodile says padding over to sit by his father.

“Patty is a gossiping cunt who don’t know her head from her ass.” Edward snaps.

“You like him.” Crocodile stares at his father “the town hates him, but you like him, you want to protect him.”

“Ain’t like his daddy was doing any protecting” Edward grumbles.

“Explain.”

His father sighed “don’t go repeating this alright? When dragon was still a lad in high school him and a friend of his got lynched by some neo nazi shitheads who thought that their belief in god have them the right to beat the shit out of anyone that didn’t fit their narrative.”

Edward swallowed “his friend died from internal injuries two days later. And the shitheads? They weren’t even charged, couldn’t risk their future is what the police decided.”

“So when Dragon got out of the hospital, he went after them. It was 6 to 1 and no one was there to witness it. Police rolled up found Dragon surrounded by the unconscious shitheads, they cuffed him and threw him to juvie without a thought. I hear after juvie he went for special forces, can’t imagine what he went through there. But all the townies see is the freaky kid who destroyed 6 football players careers in one night.”

His dad looked at crocodile, “he’s a good man, sad but good.”

And this of course, piques Crocodile’s interest even further.

But he doesn’t go digging for anything. He’s sure theres stuff about the incident if he looks into it, but he doesn’t really care to see the sanitized tale that let a half dozen skinheads get away with murder. He doesn’t want to see how a grief-stricken kid avenging his friend got watered down to “troubled teen severely injures six in vicious attack”.

If he wants the whole story, he’ll just have to hear it from Dragon. Like that’s ever gonna happen.

So he keeps helping around the farm, cursing any god that would listen because this is work he was not meant for.

Until one morning, there’s a horse in the yard. Not one of Pops’ either. It’s a strange looking one, too. A short mane that stood straight up like a shoe brush, with stripes fading in and out of its ochre coat. That’s… a zorse, right? They’re called zorses?

And just past the fence is another horse- also not one of Pops’- reddish brown at the front that paled into a nice silvery color towards the hindquarters, with a gorgeous black mane. This one was saddled.

And in that saddle…

“Nika, I take my eyes off of you for three damn seconds… ” Dragon, half-awake, half-dressed, and very exasperated, called from the back of the roan.

And as if all of this wasn’t surreal enough, Dragon was holding a freckle-faced boy on his hip that couldn’t have been older than three.

Who the fuck was this enigma of a man?

[bheegibilli-studioghibli]

Another Layer of In-Yun Pt 1

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x fem!reader

Summary: You and Andrew enjoy a lazy morning together, revelling in how much you love each other

Content Warning: fluff, L-word (a lot of it) but no real warnings

PT 2 WILL BE SMUT

Hey! So I watched this movie called Past Lives (you should check it out if you haven’t already) and I loved the concept of In-Yun. The following is a fluffy piece I wrote based on that.

You and Andrew have been together for about a month now. One month since he confessed to you how he loved you and one month since you said you loved him back. 

And in this moment, with your head nuzzled into his chest and his arms wrapped around you, the words you uttered that day ring in your ears. This felt right.

“Andrew?” you looked up to see him through your eyelashes. His eyes closed and his breathing steady. A soft smirk spread lazily across his features as his thumbs started caressing your back.

“Mm? Did you need something… darling?” 

“No, just that you look pretty like this” 

He opened his eyes and gazed down at you. His smile widening at your words, warming you. You could feel the comforting thump of his heart underneath your palm, reverberating through your body. He gave you a small kiss on the forehead before bringing his other arm around your shoulders. 

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you, you know?” He said.

“No, tell me how lucky?”

He chuckles and shifting himself so that you could nuzzle further into his chest. 

“Mmm, extremely. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” He gives you a short kiss on the cheek before closing his eyes again. The tenderness with which his lips brush the apple of your cheeks, it’s full. He makes you feel full, whole.

“Yeah, you know there’s a concept in Korean called In-Yun”

He looks at you with a small smile on his face, genuinely interested in the in what you’re about to say. His voice is soft, and his tone dripping with affection.

“What's that?”

“Umm so, there is a word in Korean In-Yun. It means providence or fate. But it's specifically about relationships between people”

He smiles, leaning back a bit. His eyebrows piqued with curiosity.

“Ah tell me more”

“Well yeah, it’s kinda like It’s an In-Yun if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. Because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of In-Yun, over 8,000 lifetimes. So us being here, right now, must mean that we have at least a couple layers of it” you smile still looking up at him. 

You feel him shift as he leans closer to you, his lips grazing yours as he speaks. “It only makes sense, I’m sure we have a couple” His grin is playful as his voice drops to a whisper "How many lifetimes do you think we've spent together?” You can’t help but giggle at the stupid answer that that enters your head and before you fully process it, it’s out your mouth.

“Sixty nineeee”

You burst into a fit of laughter at your own ill timed joke, his eyes crinkling as you feel his laugh reverberate through you. He leans his head closer to yours, his forehead pressed against the flat of yours, still smiling he plants a sweet kiss on your lips. 

He pulls back slightly, his voice taking on a bit of a seductive tone. 

“Well, we should get to work on our 70th life then, shouldn't we?"

You laugh as you kiss him again sweetly.

“I don’t know if I believe in it but it’s a comforting concept. You know if you don’t end up with the person you think you should end up with maybe in another life you might and this life is just another layer In-yun in making that happen.”

He smiles, leaning closer again and tracing a finger down your chin. "It is definitely a comforting concept. I wouldn't mind being with you for the rest of our lives, regardless of how many layers we have." He closes his eyes, leaning even closer. “You're the only thing I want in this life. It doesn't matter what happens, or which timeline, or which life, all that matters is that I have you right now.”

You can’t help but go little red, he always seems to know what to say. His words always leave you feeling like putty in his hand.

“Andrew… “

You smile, kissing the long finger of his that has been roaming your face as if trying to memorise it’s every nook. The smile on his face grows a little bigger as he leans closer again, his lips meeting yours. His lips enveloping you in a kiss that could thaw ice,. His voice is tender as he speaks, his accent thickening as he leans closer again, bumping his nose to your

“I love you, honey. Whatever lives we have lived before, whatever lives we will live again, you are the only thing that matters in them for me. If we were meant to always meet I would do whatever it takes to see you, to kiss you, to hold you in this life and the next”

You feel your chest swell, overwhelmed by the sheer sincerity with which he utters his poetic words. It seems so natural, this seems so natural.

“I love you too”

That’s  all you could manage to say. No matter how many times you feel your mouth curve to form the words it never feels enough to describe the meaning they carry. He smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair perched on your cheek. He pulls you into a tight hug, holding you to him as close as he can. His breathing is slowed, and it matches yours. He runs a hand through your hair, his voice taking on a soft tone.

 “This feels right. Doesn’t it? I’ve never felt like this at the beginning of a relationship, but it’s like this is where we were always meant to be.”

“Yeah, thank you… for being you I suppose” you kiss him. As your lips meet, his face lights up. “Mmm… I hope you’ll always feel this way.” His voice is slow and full of emotion, he moves his other hand from your shoulder to your neck, his fingers tracing along the back of your neck. He presses you in a tight kiss before he finally pulls away, looking at you with a loving smile.

“Godddddd” you can’t help but blush under the his gaze. It felt like  a apricity. You bury your face in his neck, suddenly shy. You can feel your cheeks go hot He chuckles, running his hands through your hair. He whispers something in your ear, his accent growing stronger as he does. “You’re adorable when you’re shy... I can barely stand how cute you are.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should sit then” you try to hold back your laughter but the light of  the incredibly lame joke you made. But you can’t help it, it’s the only way you can cope with how much adoration he looks at you with.

“I’m sorry that was a bad joke, I hope you don’t take back the I love you’s” you laugh. His voice still has that soft edge to it. He laughs along with you as he leans closer, his lips grazing yours again. 

“It’s okay, I’m a sucker for the shitty puns you make. If anything, it makes me love you that much more.”

 He kisses you again, his lips lingering on yours as he pulls away. His eyes close, and he smiles as he looks at you, his voice still soft and warm. 

AHHHH I’m sorry this ended abruptly, part 2 will be up soon and I’ll pick up right where I left off!

PT 2: Here

[halfbaked00q]

okay as an admitted did-not-watch-NTTD'er who got, like, all of their info from uhh recappers, the wiki synopsis, the specific clips with Q I watched, and whatever I osmosis'ed from fics.

I finally watched the beginning of NTTD at @prismatic-bell's nudging. And I was like. Okay wait. wait wait wait. This is... well-written? And shot and directed & acted?? In a hollywood movie lmao?? Like. The way it's set up w Madeleine's backstory, and then the Bond & Madeleine stuff that does a much better job of establishing their relationship, the goooorgeous wide shots.

I admittedly was rather "I close my eyes I do not see" to a lot of canon - coming from partially a comics fandom background I'm very aware, well-versed, and well-practiced in the 'canon is your pick-and-choose buffet no need to feel like you have to 'respect' the 'sanctity' of 'canon' esp when it's Bad (like it contradicts other canon or you can just Tell this character was Not Written Well and it's like, here's what it could be that is better)' - and from opinions I saw on NTTD I was expecting to be very pick & choose about it.

But okay, wait. wait wait wait. It works. The beginning at least which I watched. Works. Like, it establishes a key character moment for Madeleine that Explains Everything about her behavior, actually - like she just like Bond is actually also very traumatized & has been locking it down/deflecting it vs processing it, and the whole like Vesper thing is (to me) very obviously her misdirecting Bond away from her own Goin Thru It. I can see how it can read as very suspicious to Bond esp with everything else but it, like, is a Narrative and Makes Sense for her character and Works. wild.

Even the Bond stuff makes a ton of sense. Like, when I hadn't watched it and was going off second & third hand information, one of the things I was hrrrm ?? about was the. How do you get from the guy who says "I miss you" at Vesper's grave, to the guy who put Madeleine on the train. The man who, even after finding out Vesper betrayed him, still wanted to save her? Would... send Madeleine away? In what, a fit of pique? Surely he's more of a "run to me and I will handle it" if it turns out not to be true or a "if it is, I'll handle it" kind of guy.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT IT WAS. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FUCKING WAS LMAO. I WAS MISLED BY THE FUCKIN. BILLIE EILISH SONG LMAO. The lyrics of it make it SOUND like it's a like "you betrayed/cheated on me how could I have ever trusted you" break-up song kind of situation. BUT IT ABSOLUTELY FCKN WASN'T LMAO.

It's like. two traumatized individuals who trauma-bonded and honestly maybe should have spent time apart healing/learning themselves again before re-evaluating if they think a relationship could work, but like. they both were Goin Thru It and let themselves get carried away with it ig. And then right when Madeleine was like. hm I've been Not Dealing with this a Lot (tbh her being a psychologist probably made it worse cuz I think it made her more effective at Not Dealing With It and deflecting/misdirecting, but like. I don't think she was doing it intentionally, I think it was just a "combination of circumstances" thing. But this also works cuz I think before the like why did Madeleine push him towards Vesper again even though he said she was in his past. And it's like. She was delaying dealing with HER shit and probably unconsciously deflected his attention by poking at waht she thinks is still HIS equivalent to her baggage) where was I. Oh yeah, Madeleine is like. hm. yeah. the whole letting go of secrets thing. I. need to come clean to him...

but then all of the Spectre stuff happens.

Even the him sitting in the car thing is soooo so so. Cuz Craig absolutely put his whole pussy in the acting for this scene. he's got that like. wrong side of overstimulated so you shoot past being in the zone and instead are zoning out lowkey thing going on, mixed with the like. agent faced with a hopeless situation Observing Everything still but like vaguely morbidly amused about it, probably what's running through the brain rn is "lmao, wonder which bullet will be The One" kind of deal. And cross-cutting the shooting & wide shots with the bells was *chefs kiss* genius.

Even Madeleine not managing to tell him was well written/paced. Cuz it was very believable that she (not trained for this) was scared/shocked & couldn't get a word out. Until the "JAMES. I'd rather die than have you think I--" and then the fucking. tragedy of the bad timing. god. And then even her not just saying it later is like, it all makes sense with the way it was paced, shot, & edited. It was beaaautiful oh man. This also where I was like. damn lmao. miscommunication in a movie where it. feels like it makes sense and isn't just a stupid macguffin lol??? In a hollywood movie?? wild

but yeah this is also where it was like. hey wait. the man who, in the face of sort of a morbid (passively?) suicidal emotional blowout due to the Everything, but was able to break through it when she got through to him enough for him to look at her, and her to cry & shake her head like no, it's not true/no don't do this/please/(w.e). and go, "Okay." and take action. How does he put her on the train??

BUT. BUT FUCKING. BUT THEN. MY GOD. *Actually* watching the fucking scene I was like. Ooooh. ough ough oh god. This isn't him vindicatively cutting her out of his life "the bitch is dead" style. This is his Vesper in the elevator cage moment. He's fucking drowning in the cage but he doesn't want to take her with him. He's locking her out of the cage. god.

And the fucking. devastation on his face while he's on the platform. THAT'S HIS FUCKIN. VESPER HOLDING HIM ONE LAST TIME AND SHOVING HERSELF TO TH EBACK OF THE CAGE AAARGGGGHH BARK BARK BARK

Which, a-fucking-gain. THEN MAKES THE NO TIME TO DIE SONG. ALL THE FUCKING MORE EGREGIOUS LMAO. "was I stupid to love you was I foolish to trust was it obvious to everybody else" WHAT ARE YOU ON. THIS IS A SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY THIS ISN'T FUCKIN. 'THE BITCH IS DEAD.'

God this is like when ppl are convinced QoS was Bond going on a revenge rampage when he was (1) not even rampaging (2) not on a revenge quest/storyline - that was Camille's story!!!* caveat I did not watch QoS either lol, but I did watch a video essay breaking it down which I found Very Compelling and have since incorporated it into my worldview lmao. Like, in light of me actually watching the beginning of NTTD, and then it launching into the title sequence and the song. IT ACTIVELY. REWRITES HISTORY YOU JUST WATCHED ON THE SCREEN AAAGGGHHH BITE CHOMP KILL. IT UNDERMINES THE WHOLE. ALL OF THE WORK THE FILMMAKERS DID UP TO THAT POINT IN PLOTTING OUT ACTING OUT & ESTABLISHING THE STORY TO THIS POINT.

Like. The problem of the song isn't even oh it's a limited POV thing. IT'S NOT EVEN WAHT BOND'S POV WOULD HAVE BEEN/SHOULD HAVE BEEN BY THAT POINT. Again, this is the "the bitch is dead" edit of the scene, BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED. THIS IS BOND LOWKEY SPIRALING AND LIKE. OVERSTIMULATED-EXTREME-EMOTIONAL-AMBUSH-IN-A-VERY-SHORT-TIME LOWKEY EMOTIONALLY SPINNING OUT. BUT THEN BREAKING THRU IT ENOUGH WHEN MADELEINE CALLED FOR HIM. TO LOCK HER OUT OF HIS SINKING CAGE. BRUH. BE SO FORREAL RN.

also lmao she clutches her torso WAY too high up, bruh that's her sternum not her belly... but ig the idea translates across still.

but yeah. god. And here I thought No Time to Die the song was just. boring & musically uninspiring. but no. it's so much worse lmao. god.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

ur such a good writer i literally love all ur fics ur like a celebrity to me i was just thinking maybe you could write something more about vampire bam with fem reader because I think it’s cute it could be smut if you want but it also doesn’t have to be and it can be all dark and stuff like the m reader one

Eternal Lust

Harboring resentment towards her elite associates in her high level trade, Y/N finds herself in an unlikely romance with an earl who has more than a few skeletons in his closet

Vampire!Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Angst, Fluff)

4.2k Words

Warnings: highly suggestive content, drinking, enemies to lovers, stalking, manipulation, scent hint, blood kink, nudity, biting, kissing, toxic relationships

An: thank you so much for this request, and happy Halloween! It’s rather fitting that I post this for the fall season, no? ;D Even though it’s not my most successful series, the whole period piece Victorian vampire!au is definately one of my favorites, and I’m touched you enjoyed it so much! There’s a lot that’s said and even more that goes unsaid in this fic, so keep an eye out for subtext as you read. Anyways, thank you for checking this out, and please keep the requests coming! <3

The space where dark compulsions meet the darkened sky- that’s where you settle in. You felt this evening, not unusual for yourself, a natural compulsion to seek out that same dark side, the forbidden- that is to say, the good stuff. The gala you were forced to attend by your position in the cargo industry was not where you found these things. Stuffy conversation about import taxes and embargos while packed in a ballroom cheek by jowl with decrepit old men wasn’t exactly your idea of a fun night out in London, but here you were- in a gown that clung to your ribs like a cage- a physical manifestation of how you felt. Opulent, gilded chandeliers and marble flooring so clean that you could see yourself in them reflected the buzzing, lively scenery around you, but you couldn’t help yourself from feeling purely dismal. But despite your fantasies, you couldn’t merely ditch this scene and take a waltz down to the east end- you had an impression you needed to make. This gala was being held by one of the titans in your field: Earl Margera, the handsome yet capricious man-child who you really had to suck up to in order to get anywhere. The only issue that came with that was that he was constantly surrounded by a flock of lick-finger supplicants which made it a nightmare to even look in his direction.

Wanting nothing more than a momentary breather away from the prying eyes of the elite, you quietly slipped away to a deserted parlor just off of the main hall- close enough to the action that you could still hear the dull thrum of the party through the walls. Sinking down in a high backed armchair, you scanned the bookshelf lined walls idly until your eyes laid upon something that piqued your interest: a large, ornate decanter filled with high quality whiskey that sparkled amber in the candlelight. Well, you’d always fancied yourself a purveyor of the finer things in life, and stealing an ounce or two or five of the Earl’s fine booze would be a quiet revenge you could exact- a way to justify why you even were here if you resented the man so severely. It would be the same as an enemy of Di Vinci wiping his ass with the Mona Lisa. Sliding out the large, crystal stopper with a pop, you grinned as you forwent a glass. Bringing the rim directly to your lips, you drank straight from the bottle like some street bum. Oh yeah, you were doing it… The delicate, sweet taste of the whiskey consumed your senses, but the satisfaction you felt was only momentary, because just as the burn that felt so good settled in your chest, the sound of leatherbound footsteps made your heart leap into your mouth.

And there, standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the golden light of the ballroom, the devil had come to play- all five feet and six inches of him. Still imposing, however, from the aristocratic manner in which he carried himself, Earl Margera’s every action was that of a predator who had no challenge for prey. Dark curls slightly tousled from whatever misbehavior he was relishing in before he graced you with his presence, he quietly slumped in the seat across from you in the study with that shit eating grin plastered across his face, “You enjoying my whiskey?” All tailored and waistcoated in velvets and silk, there was something about his wolffish arrogance that made you a little bitchy.

Glaring over at him, with his pale complexion and those fucking eyes, you spat, “It’s good. I find it’s best enjoyed straight from the bottle-” Making long, hard eye contact, you stared him down as you took a deep swig.

When he finally spoke up, there was an uncharacteristically calm tone in his voice, “I like your style, but it’s rude to drink a man’s alcohol without asking.” Those icy boy eyes fixated on you the way a hawk would spot a field mouse, you squirmed under your skin under his scrutiny, but that could have very well just have been the velvet of the chair.

One thing led to another and that led to the two of you passing around the whiskey like two urchin children, and aver the course of the evening, you’d gotten to feeling a little empathy for the demon across from you. Still, you felt the bastard oozed entitlement, and that resentment grew more and more apparent the longer you sat there. “You know, I-“ Earl Margera hiccuped, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, “I really hate these fucking parties. It's just this…” he gestured to nothing, squeezing his eyes shut, “this transient shit.”

Cracking a grin at his deceiving bluntness, you took satisfaction in how candid and disheveled he was growing in front of you. In all likelihood, he didn’t even know what that word meant… “Oh, we’re all transient…” Part of you wondered what brought this on from him- why he was here with you instead of mingling with the rest of high society, but I guess that when you own the board, you needn’t play the game. He was just as miserable as you.

“Courtesy of Earl Margera, madame...” The timid postmaster that stood at your door trembled as he handed the heavy box to you with an odd sort of tension held in his every fiber, like he was handing you a bomb that could go off at any moment, which you might as well have been sent given your behavior at that gala last week. You weren't ashamed, but you couldn’t exactly call it pride. Bringing it inside and placing it on your dining table, you carefully pulled the violet silk ribbon that held the package secure and lifted off the lid, examining the contents. You squinted at the artfully penned card stock note that read, “A token for a night of insightful conversation and spirited company.” Underneath the note, nestled in white tissue, was a very expensive looking necklace, no- it was a rosary. A shiver ran down your spine as you examined the expensive thing, sparkling silver affixed with polished garnet and onyx. According to something written on the back of the note, it was once a possession of Anne Boleyn, the irony of it being a necklace not escaping you. Who knew the earl would have such a twisted sense of humor? Running the cold metal through your fingers, you couldn’t help but feel, at the same time, uneasy and intrigued. How could he have acquired this artifact, and why send it to you?

Not wanting to risk damaging the fine jewelry, however suspicious the whole ordeal was, you returned the necklace to its case and stowed it carefully in your armoire before retrieving your shawl from where it was haphazardly tossed on a chair. Given autumn’s creeping grasp upon London, the streets ran with a chill denser than the characteristic fog that never seemed to disappear as you made your way towards the town market, mind still tangled up in the implications of, well- everything. Charming smiles, sharp wit, and frivolous gifts from the earl aside, you had the pressing matter of staving off starvation to deal with. Carriage wheels clattered and people bartered with vendors as you perused the crowded market stalls for fall produce as the thoughts swirling about your mind seemed to fade into much more manageable topics like selecting the best loaves of bread or the freshest squash.

You were so unsuspecting…It really was endearing in a way, how a woman can be so utterly transfixed in mundane little things like tins of tea and looking for a favorite variety of jam, completely unaware of your surroundings. Yes, barely even out of your line of sight- in fact, quite plainly within your vision, the earl stood half under the cover of shadow in an alleyway, studying your every move. Eyes following you from his place standing cloak-clad in that alleyway with the kind of hunger few may know, Earl Margera was practically fantasizing about you at this point. He was barely a breath away, barely an arm’s length away. Close enough that if his inhibitions were a hair lower, he would've given into every dark compulsion he’d kept hidden away for so long and snatch you away from the prying eyes of the townspeople, dragging you into the darkness he so relished. Wrap his arms around your waist and pause for a moment, canines poised to penetrate that tantalizingly thin layer of skin keeping him from getting exactly what he wanted, just to watch the look on your face as realization sunk in- what he was going to do and exactly what he was.

Disappearing back into the shadows, the earl couldn’t help but mull over the way you had struck him that evening you first met. There was something about the fire that burnt just behind your eyes, that distinct spirit you carried with you. But more than that, it was your smell. Unlike the volatile perfumes the women of high society adored, which Bam considered plainly unappetizing, you had a very clean, distinct aroma; It was simple and sensual in a way that struck just the right chords in his mind- this purity unmatched by any of the women he’d fed off of in the past. Your ability to see through the madcarades of the elite aside, which he very much admired despite his social position, he’d been obsessing over that scent as if he were a man possessed. It was the only fantasy that consumed him in those long, lonely evenings in the palace in between feedings. He had to see you again- needed to have you- but he knew a woman of your standing wouldn’t be easy to win over, especially with something as trivial as jewelry. While not unfamiliar with playing the long game, Earl Margera was all too fond of the thrill of the hunt when it came to courting his prey. Patience is a virtue he was well versed in. He would let you feel content under the assurance that you had control over the situation for a little while more, all while the snare was gradually tightening around your neck.

The palace of Earl Margera looked starkly different in the daylight than when it was illuminated by lamplight- the darkness covers up the gritty parts, you noticed. The myriad of shrubbery and meticulously kept flora that made up the front garden had withered in a recent cold snap, leaving branches winding and bare as you trotted up the cobblestone steps. You’d dressed well, while not horrifically extravagant for the occasion, but you hadn’t even knocked at the door before it was answered and you were quickly shuffled inside the front room by one of his male servants, a room which was extravagant as any other given inch of that palace, where the earl had been patiently awaiting your arrival. “Y/N.” He put on his most earnest expression as he bowed in front of you, not giving you the opportunity to remove your glove much less greet him before he peeled it off of your fingers himself with practiced grace before placing a disarmingly gentle kiss to your knuckle while making unshaking eye contact, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

You’re not sure how you managed it, but after you stole his expensive liquor and insulted him, the earl ended up asking you to return once more, this time for discussion of industry over a meal, but as things have it, you talked about everything except the cargo business. Well, besides you fulfilling your curiosity as to how exactly a man like him got into this industry. He inherited his position from his father, something you, and in all honesty, Earl Margera couldn’t give two shits about shipping.

The dinner was an intimate affair with a dining room table laid with enough food to feed the entirety of the east end; platters upon platters of golden roast pork loin and plump game birds ran alongside crisp roast turnips and carrots with fennel, but most impressive dish besides the massive ornamental coffee custard a la Religieuse was the beautiful arrangement of oranges, apples, blackberries, and plums that were surely imported from Spain given they were out of season.

As you were served by one of the handful of men that were neither his servants nor brothers that hung around his palace like flies, you mused, “I’m impressed. When I received your invitation, I was thinking I’d be dining on something closer to soused hog or crimped fish.”

Chuckling deliciously, Earl Margera eyed you from across the table and brought his glass to his lips, taking a swig of wine before he replied, “I have an impression to make, do I not?” An evil little glint sparkled in his eye as he proposed, half joking, “If you’d like, I could send to the butcher for some fresh slink veal.” The nasty thing is, you weren't exactly sure if he was joking about that, because leave it to the earl to appreciate the feeling of soft, underdeveloped lamb’s bone in his teeth, but you laughed anyway.

Delicately handing your silverware, you tried to break the tension a little, “You know, you are not nearly the man I took you for, my earl.”

As much as the preface of ‘my’ before his title made his heart jump, he waved his hand dismissively, “Who needs those formalities? All my close friends call me Bam.” A curious name, yes, and hardly a name fit for an earl, but you did not question it. You had far more pressing matters at hand. Bathed in the soft candlelight, the man across from you looked strangely soft, maybe even human- a far cry from the image he projected to the public. And as you dined and drank, which you ended up doing a great deal of over the course of the night, you could’ve sworn that those men that served you- members of his council, the ones standing along the walls just in the shadows- were shooting knowing, sidelong glances to one another as Bam regaled you on his worldly adventures, seeming to enjoy the sound of his own voice more than anything.

As the evening grew on and the candles grew shorter, something that had been occupying your mind for a while came up in conversation. Swirling your glass of liquor with half lidded eyes, you mumbled, “You know…I've only seen a fraction of this castle of yours. Why don’t you give me a tour?” This opportunity made Bam’s ears perk up. There was an undeniable romance about the palace, especially in the evening, and much like a cobra silently waiting to strike, Earl Margera had been quietly leading you along with this false sense of security. It seemed that this was the perfect moment.

“Of course.” pulling his chair out from the table with surprising grace for a man who had been drinking his weight in fine booze, Bam waved for you to follow him, “This way, if you don’t mind…” Trailing behind him at his heels, you followed him down grand, echoey hallways with moonlight filtering in through tall, arched windows onto the marble flooring. He led you through a large, heavy door marred with age and into a room that looked more like a museum and less like a home. Every wall was lined with some sort of curiosity that the earl was more than eager to flaunt, whether that be a pyxis dating back to the crusades, or a full collection of canopic jars he acquired from a trip to Egypt, not to mention menagerie of taxidermied animals. It seemed that the second you appeared at all disinterested in what he had to say, Bam hurriedly moved on from one artifact to the next.

But on the off moments you were enraptured with a painting or fine textile, you caught him just…watching you. Running your finger contemplatively along the smooth glass dome encasing a skull you couldn’t identify as human or animal, you felt this odd sensation of being loomed over or observed intently the way a hunter would track prized game, especially odd considering the only people in the room were you and the earl. Slightly unnerved, you shook off those feelings against your better judgment and chuckled, “I’m impressed…Really, wet specimens and medieval weapons are just the thing that draws the favor of women.” However, your fesistines and witty comeback were not enough to deter the earl.

“So, you’re a lady with more artistic tastes? Here-“ his voice a mere purr, Bam directed you over to a grand marble statue at one end of the room, “this is a real Bernini- genuine.” Silhouetted by a window on each side letting light flood in, this alabaster figure stood carved with precision, this beautiful angel standing with poise and elegance, frozen in time and marble. In actuality, Bam only knew who sculpted that statue because his money paid for it, and otherwise he couldn’t care less about that thing. Cocking your head to one side, the thought occurred to you that maybe you were wrong about the earl and perhaps he was less surface than you initially thought. Out of the stillness, he asked you, “Do you believe in angels, Y/N?”

It was a simple question, the kind a curious child may ask, but turning to face him, the room felt so eerily quiet as you gazed at his features bathed in the moonlight, looking almost…innocent- sinister, yet perfectly harmless. Mouth growing dry under his gaze, you replied, “I don’t think they walk among us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Grasping your hand in his, Bam’s voice no longer had that obnoxious, arrogant edge. Instead, there was this soft, sweet quality to his words as he spoke just above a whisper, “Oh, but I think they do…See, for the longest time, I couldn’t remember a single moment where I was satisfied. I felt good drinking and flirting and carousing, but…that was it. And then you came along, and all of a sudden…” his voice trailed off a moment as he pretended to struggle with articulating his feelings, before he eventually spat out, “You’re an angel…My angel, I’m sure of it.” There was something off about this encounter that you couldn’t place as, eyes bleary from alcohol and emotion, Earl Margera brought your hand up to his lips and placed a reverent kiss to your knuckle for the second time that night and asked, more of a command than a request, “Stay with me tonight?”

You felt charmed yet uncomfortable in this moment- how he had been intensely staring at you as if he were looking straight to the core of your soul. This darkness about him; it was heavy, permeating every fiber of this young man who looked ready to be worshiped or sacrificed. With the way his hair looked disheveled and hung in his eyes, you finally saw what all those women saw in him- in that silent study, Earl Margera looks like temptation personified. “Hold me for tonight. Shelter me from this-“ You couldn’t resist. Cutting him off from what en flourishy tangent he was about to launch into, you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips because, in that moment, it just felt so right. However, instead of the tentative, playful response you expected to receive, there was this hunger in the way Bam smothered you in his kiss, like a wolf burying its muzzle into a fresh kill. Deep and primal, he nearly growled against your lips, unable to contain those starving urges that sat just below the surface.

Stumbling, you tumbled backward onto a chaise lounge and Bam landed on top of you. Black painted nails clawing at the bodice of your dress and clumsily tugging it down to bare your chest, he seemingly ignored the newly exposed expanse of skin glimmering in the moonlight for the succulent meat of your neck. You were shocked, but you couldn’t say that you weren't strangely excited and thrilled by this turn of events. Endlessly repulsed and enchanted, you were powerless against his animalistic urges, sucking and laving at the bulge of your carotid artery as if your flesh itself was this divine thing. Passion hung heavy between your ragged bodies, breath coming out in ragged pants, and Bam couldn’t hold himself back for one moment longer. A throbbing, exquisite shockwave of pure white heat rattled through your bones as he let out this satisfied little moan and sunk his jaws into you the way an animal would clamp their jaws onto its prey- purely predatory. Face smeared with crimson, his eyes flicked up to look at you with something a little less than human behind them.

If the woman you were a week ago could see yourself now, waking up naked in the earl’s bed, you’d tell yourself to knee him between the thighs and make a break for it, but there was something so utterly hypnotizing about his visage in that moment. Falling under his spell, the closest thing you could equate it to was love. You loved him like you would love a sick, stray cat that you found on the side of the road covered in blood and vomit. You loved him like a saint loves a sinner. Head swimming, you were unable to fully comprehend what had happened to you as you tried to orient yourself. Eyes fell upon where Bam sat beside you, naked and half covered by the sheets that pooled at his hips, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze from his bare form. Chest pale and slightly sunken, his ribs were more prominent than a young man’s should be, but there was still something beautiful about him with the way his soft skin against sharp edges. Slender, almost as if he was malnourished, your eyes trailed down the faint line of hair peeking above where the linens sat at his hips.

Entranced by his strangely ethereal figure, it took him meeting your eyes for you to notice the dark smears on his cheeks and around his mouth. Still, there was that purity about him at war with his fierceness as he cracked a grin, “My angel…” lying down next to you, the words of a saint fell from the mouth of a harlot as he nuzzled his face against your neck and chest, lazily licking at his leftovers. Bam stared at you, lips covered in dried blood and kiss swollen, but even after all of this, he found a way to feign innocence, looking up at you with these big, sweet deer eyes even after he had done these depraved acts. The earl asked tenderly- vulnerably, “Will you be gentle when you scrub me clean? When you purify me?”

His desire for redemption was merely a front. Simultaneously disgusted and aroused, you swallowed down the gnawing uncertainty as to what exactly he’d done to you that left you so bloodied as you uttered, “You think I can fix you? You’re- you’re beyond any redemption…”

Bam’s grin seemed to widen at your meager resistance as he pulled his lips away from where he nursed at your wound to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft whine with faux offense, “Oh, you are so cruel.” light glinted off of a far too sharp canine as he cooed sweetly, speaking to you the way a lover would, “You have no idea what you do to me…”

Sitting up sharply as the realization of exactly what your circumstances entailed, dead moments gave way for memories of the earlier evening to remain. You would’ve thought your sanity was slipping away with the conclusion you came to. Sharp pain shot through your skull like a railroad spike as you fell back to the plush bed, squeezing your eyes shut to quell the ache as you muttered to yourself, “No- no. It’s not. It can’t…”

Unsure if you should blame the trembling of your limbs on blood loss or the sinking realization of your circumstances, you nearly jumped when you felt Bam’s hand on your shoulder as if he were caressing some delicate object as he purred, “I’ve yearned for someone like you for so much longer than you could ever imagine…” The way he was talking about you was like your presence satiated every ounce of his being. Leaning over you in the darkness, the earl murmured, “I couldn’t imagine spending eternity without you, Y/N…”

Fear and restraint melting away, the line between ecstasy and agony irrevocably blurred as the idea slowly grew in appeal as if you were falling under the control of some spell. Parts of his reasoning began to make sense; this rich, devilishly handsome earl was so readily offering you his undying affection. Who cares about the implications of what he may truly be? You had to ponder- was this destiny? Were these the cards that fate had dealt you, and if so, how were you going to play them? Part of you, a sensible part, still wanted to run, but the very core of you desired nothing more but to lay with him in those very sheets for the rest of time.

[detectivereads]

New/Old Detective Manga

Hi everyone,

I hope everyone is well.

Recently I have been wanting a new manga series while I wait for the new issues of Case Closed/ Detective Conan to come out. (I love that series so much)

So, I tried finding manga that is like Conan but with their own unique twist to it. Recently I have found several and I had come across a few in the past so I thought I would make a list of interesting detective/mystery manga. I would love to hear recommendations from anyone else.

Lizzie Newton by Hey-Jin Jeon- This was one of the first detective manga that I collected. I am sad that there were only 2 volumes released, because having a Victorian lady investigating murders is perfect. Lizzie Newton is a well to do lady in high society who loves three things: reading, writing and investigating murders.

Case Closed/ Detective Conan by Gosho Aoyama- What can I say 10/10. This is one of the best mystery series I have ever read. With a big mystery that you can follow through the course of the whole series and having other mysteries to go along with the big mysteries, each case is well crafted and unique. The cast of characters to go along with the story each one has a quirky thing about them, but they work well together. This is a mystery manga series that I would recommend to any newbie mystery manga reader.

The Invisible Man and His Soon-to-Be Wife by Iwatobineko- Ok this series is so cute, but it’s not super hard core in the mystery aspect like Case Closed or Ustoki Rhetoric, but the main characters are part of a detective agency, and they do go on cases. I have reviews posted in the manga section of my master list, so I won’t talk too much about it here. I really recommend this series.

Now these are the ones I found recently:

Usotoki Rhetoric by Ritsu Miyako- I don’t know why but lately I keep coming across historical type detectives lately, but I digress.  This story centers around a girl named Kanoko, who has a unique ability to hear lies, which unfortunately made her childhood very lonely growing up. So, she sets off on her own to find a place where no one knows her, and she can make a life for herself. Kanoko then runs into a detective, who is broke, and they team up to solve cases. I wasn’t sure if I was going to like this series, but I started reading it and I am hooked on it. Each case that they tackled was interesting but so far, my favorite case was the Doll Murder case, this manga pulled plot that I am sure Agatha Christie would be interested in.

Garden Club Detective Squad by 52chu- This series is amazing, I found this by accident. I think I saw the trailer and I investigated it. I was hooked and I pray that this will get a physical release. We have our main character Yeon, her family is moving to the countryside. This girl embodies school life. She loves to study, and she is amazing at sports and arts. Yeon has a goal to make her academic resume for the high school she wants to go to prefect. One the things she wants to do is be a president of a club and all the other clubs turn her down (they are terrified on how good she is) but she finds the Garden Club to fit her needs. But the club holds secrets that have been long buried.

My Dear Detective by Natsumi Ito- I have only read a little of this, but I was immediately interested, main character is a female detective, and the time is back in 1930. So, the views here are that women took care of the house, but not Hoshino Mitsuko she is determined to work for a living, and she has her job as a detective locked down.

I want to save this one for more in-depth reading so I will leave this one here, but I can tell you, I am excited for this.

The Strange House by Uketsu- Horror Writer Detective, my interest has been piqued. Now I like watching jump scares and some scary movies as much as the next person. But I came across this manga series by chance. I was worried that this was going to be a horror manga that was going to be gory. But so far apart from some speculations in the manga, the story is great. (yes, there is some dark themes here)

Our main character is a horror mystery writer turn amateur detective, they are given a blueprint of the house from a client one day asking about the layout of the house and one particular room in the house which first time reading the manga, I was trying to figure out the purpose of the room as well.

Now, looking at the cover art for this manga I was thinking that this was going to be in the same league with the other great horror manga writer Jinji Ito, I love this man’s art style but boy howdy he draws some scary scenes. I thought going in this that this manga wouldn’t hold my attention, but I am now waiting on pins and needles for the new chapter I need to know what happens.

Now I know there are like a few more series out there, but these series here are what has caught my attention at the moment.

[kat-thepoet]

Invisible string

CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: Enjoy!

Previous chapters: CHAPTERS

Word count: 4435

The day had gone by in a blur of lessons, introductions, and getting to know the younger students. By the time I returned to my room, I felt both energized and exhausted, the mix of emotions swirling in my mind. I was finally beginning to feel like I belonged here, like I had found my place. But just as I began to unwind, a knock at my door startled me from my thoughts.

I opened the door to find Storm standing there, her calm and commanding presence filling the hallway. She gave me a small smile, through her eyes carried a sense of purpose. "It's time for training," she said simply.

I blinked, caught off guard for a second. "Training? Already?"

She nodded, her gaze steady. "Now that classes are over, it's time for you to join the rest of us. Charles wants you to start training today."

I hesitated, glancing back at my room. "Right... training. But, uh—" I looked down at my jeans and white shirt, definitely not made for any kind of physical activity. "What do I even wear for this?"

Storm's smile widened slightly, amused by my confusion. "Something comfortable. Most of us wear workout clothes or something flexible. You'll want to be able to move easily."

"Right," I said, feeling a bit out of my depth. "I'll figure it out. Give me a minute."

Storm nodded, stepping back to give me space. "Take your time. I'll wait for you."

I quickly closed the door, my mind racing. Training. I knew it was coming, but it still felt surreal. I rummaged through my closet, trying to find something that wouldn't make me look completely out of place. I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a loose-fitting top, hoping it would be suitable for whatever training involved.

After changing, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, wondering what I was about to get into. Sure, I could turn invisible and move things with my mind, but actual combat or training? That was a whole other challenge. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this was part of the deal, part of learning how to fit into this world.

When I stepped back into the hallway, Storm gave me an approving nod. "That'll work," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, though a part of me was still bracing for whatever was coming.

Storm led the way, her confidence radiating as she walked through the halls. I followed closely behind, my nerves bubbling beneath the surface. Training with the others—people who had been doing this for years—felt like stepping into the deep end of a pool I hadn't swum in before.

"You'll be fine," Storm said, as if reading my thoughts. "We're not throwing you into anything extreme today. Just an introduction to see where you are."

I nodded, though my nerves didn't ease.

As we walked through the halls toward the training facility, Storm's calm footsteps echoed in the quiet space. I was still mentally preparing myself for whatever this training session would involve, but just as I started to feel a little more grounded, Storm spoke up.

"There's one thing I need to mention before we go in," she said, her tone a little more serious now. I glanced at her, sensing that whatever she was about to say wasn't just a casual reminder.

"What's that?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Well, we usually train in pairs," Storm explained, her gaze steady as she looked at me. "And since you're new, we've already assigned your partner."

I blinked, already having an idea of where this was going. "Okay... so who's my partner?"

Storm gave me a small, almost apologetic smile. "It's Erik."

I nearly stopped in my tracks. "Erik?" I repeated, my voice rising slightly in surprise. Out of all the people here, it had to be him?

Storm nodded. "Hank doesn't train since he's usually the one controlling the plane, and that leaves Erik as the only available partner for you."

Of course. Out of everyone, Erik was the one I'd be paired with. I sighed, trying not to let my frustration show too much. "Right. Erik."

Storm placed a hand on my shoulder, her voice softening. "I know he can be difficult, but trust me—he's one of the best at what he does. If anyone can push you to your limits and help you grow, it's him."

I wasn't sure if that was supposed to make me feel better, but all I could think about was how Erik and I barely exchanged civil words, let alone trained together. "Well, this should be... interesting," I muttered.

Storm gave a quiet chuckle. "That's one way to put it. Just don't let him get under your skin. You'll be fine."

I forced a smile, though my stomach was already tightening with nerves. "I'll try."

When we entered the training facility, the others were already gathered in the center of the room, focused and ready. My eyes couldn't help but flicker toward Erik, who was still leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as if this whole thing was just another routine for him.

He caught my eye for a brief second, but his expression didn't change—cold, indifferent, as usual.

"Flora, over here," Storm said, guiding me toward the group. "We'll do a basic warm-up to get started, and then you'll pair up with Erik for the actual training."

I nodded, but my nerves were already buzzing at the thought of working with him. I had no idea how this was going to go, but I knew one thing—I wasn't going to let Erik push me around, even if he was one of the best.

After we finished the warm-up—which left me breathless, considering I hadn't done cardio in a while—Storm motioned for us to get with our partners.

The room seemed to shrink as the others paired off and spread out, leaving just me and Erik standing in the middle of the training area. The air between us was thick with tension, the kind that felt like it could snap at any second. I'd known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, the weight of his gaze was harder to ignore than I'd expected.

Erik didn't say anything at first—he didn't need to. The way he stood, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, said enough. He was sizing me up, and I could feel it. I'd dealt with judgment before, but something about his quiet scrutiny got under my skin more than I wanted to admit.

"Are we going to start, or...?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, trying to cut through the silence.

His eyes flicked over me, and finally, he spoke. "You ever done anything like this before?"

His tone was neutral, but I could hear the underlying message: Are you going to waste my time?

"I can handle myself," I said simply, refusing to rise to the bait. I'd spent years learning how to control my powers to some extent, but I wasn't completely useless without them.

Erik gave a small shrug, as if it didn't matter either way. "Alright, then. Let's see."

But then he smirked, just for a second, leaving me confused. "No powers."

Shit. Lucas and I never even got that far when we fooled around with our abilities. Combat wasn't exactly my specialty.

Before I could react, Erik moved—fast, punching me in the stomach.

I didn't expect that. The air rushed out of my lungs, leaving me doubled over on the mat, gasping.

"What the hell!" I glared up at him, still trying to catch my breath.

Erik stood there, arms casually crossed, watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression. "I said no powers," he replied, his voice calm, almost mocking. "You need to learn how to defend yourself without them."

I pushed myself back up, still glaring. "A little warning would've been nice."

"That was your warning," he said, smirking just enough to get under my skin. "You need to be ready for anything. I'm not going to hold your hand through this."

I straightened up, my ribs aching, but I wasn't about to back down. Erik might think he could push me around, but I wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction.

"I don't need you to hold my hand," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "But if you're going to knock the wind out of me, at least have the decency to teach me something instead of just... punching me."

Erik's smirk faded slightly, and he took a step forward, his eyes cold but focused. "Lesson one: never expect your opponent to play fair. Out there, no one's going to wait for you to get ready, and they won't care if you're new at this."

I clenched my fists, my frustration growing. He wasn't wrong, but his attitude made it hard to listen. "Alright, fine. You've made your point. Now what?"

Erik didn't hesitate. "Now, you learn how to block."

Before I could brace myself, he threw a punch toward me again, but this time I was ready—at least, I tried to be. I raised my arms, deflecting the hit, though the force still made me stumble back a few steps.

"Better," he said, though it sounded like grudging approval. "But don't just react—anticipate. Know where the hit's coming from before it lands."

I gritted my teeth, repositioning myself. "Easier said than done."

He shrugged. "It's not supposed to be easy."

Without another word, he moved in again, faster this time. I barely had time to think before his fist came at me, and I dodged, feeling the rush of air as his punch missed me by inches. But before I could feel any sense of victory, he swept my legs out from under me, and I hit the mat with a hard thud.

"Damn it!" I muttered, trying to push myself back up, my pride stinging more than the fall.

Erik loomed over me, his expression unreadable. "You have to be faster. And stop waiting for me to show mercy—I won't."

"I got that the first time," I snapped, rubbing my sore shoulder.

He offered me a hand, and I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting him pull me up. His grip was firm but surprisingly steady.

"This isn't a game," Erik said, his tone serious now, all traces of mockery gone. "If you're going to survive, you have to be ready for anything. That's what I'm trying to teach you."

I met his gaze, and for the first time, I saw something other than disdain in his eyes—determination, maybe even respect. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual coldness.

"Again," he ordered, stepping back to give me room to recover.

I sighed, steeling myself for another round. I wasn't sure if I hated him more for pushing me so hard or if I was starting to understand why he did it. Either way, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me quit.

We went at it again. And again. Each time, I managed to block a little better, dodge a little quicker. But Erik never let up, never gave me an inch. By the end of the session, my body ached, and I was covered in sweat, but at least I wasn't lying on the mat anymore. That felt like a small victory.

As we finished, Erik finally stepped back, breathing just as hard as I was, though he hid it better. "Not bad," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You might actually have some potential."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the backhanded compliment. "Is that your way of saying 'good job'?"

Erik's lips twitched into a smirk again, but he didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed his towel and turned toward the door, leaving me standing there, exhausted but oddly proud of myself.

As he walked out, I couldn't help but wonder if this was Erik's version of warming up to someone—grudging respect buried under layers of indifference and tough lessons.

Maybe he wasn't as impossible as I thought. But he was still a jerk.

I woke up to the sound of frantic banging on my door. Groggy, I glanced at the clock—1 a.m. "Who the hell is awake at this time?" I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.

I opened the door to find Jean standing there, fully dressed and looking serious.

"Flora, come down to the training area," she said urgently. "We're heading out on a mission, and Charles wants you to come with us so you can see what we do."

I blinked, still half-asleep, but Jean's tone told me this was no casual invitation. My heart started to race as I nodded, quickly pulling myself together. "Okay, give me a minute."

I threw on my training clothes, still feeling the aches from my session with Erik, but this felt different—bigger. I hurried down the hall to the training room, my mind buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

When I got there, the others were already gathering, gearing up and checking equipment. The atmosphere was tense but focused. Storm spotted me and walked over, handing me a black vest. "Here, put this on," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It's a protective vest. You'll need it."

I slipped it on, the weight of it settling over me, adding to the tension in my chest. I wasn't part of this team—at least, not yet—but tonight I'd be observing, and the thought of being in the middle of an actual mission made my stomach flip.

Just as I finished adjusting the vest, the doors to the training room burst open, and in walked Erik, his expression as cold and irritated as ever. His eyes landed on me immediately, and I could see the disbelief flash across his face.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

Before I could even respond, Charles wheeled in behind him, his calm presence immediately grounding the tension in the air. "Flora will be coming with you tonight," Charles said smoothly, his eyes meeting Erik's. "She's here to observe. Nothing more."

Erik turned to Charles, his posture stiff with barely restrained frustration. "Observe?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "She'll just get in the way. This isn't some training exercise—this is a real mission. We don't have time to babysit."

I felt a flush of anger rising in my chest, but before I could speak, Charles stepped in. "She's more capable than you give her credit for, Erik. And she's here to learn, just as you once were. This is how she'll grow into her role."

Erik's jaw clenched, and I could see the battle playing out behind his eyes. He didn't want me there, but Charles's word was final. After a long, tense pause, Erik turned away, muttering under his breath. "Fine. But keep her out of my way."

I bit back the urge to snap at him, reminding myself this wasn't the time or place to pick a fight. Instead, I adjusted the vest, trying to focus on what I needed to do—watch, learn, and not let Erik's attitude rattle me.

Storm gave me a reassuring nod, sensing the tension, and I took a deep breath. I could handle this. I wasn't here to be anyone's burden, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let Erik make me feel like I didn't belong.

As the team finished gearing up, Charles spoke again, his voice steady. "You'll be heading to a warehouse where mutants are being held. We need to get in, secure them, and get out without drawing too much attention."

He turned to me, his gaze softening slightly. "Flora, your job tonight is to observe and understand how the team operates in the field. You're not expected to engage, but if things go wrong... do what you must to stay safe."

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink in. This was real. This was the world I was stepping into.

With that, the team moved out, and I followed, my heart pounding in my chest as we made our way to the jet, ready to face whatever was waiting for us.

We boarded the sleek, black jet, its interior glowing with a dim, cool light. I made sure to sit as far from Erik as possible, determined not to let his attitude get under my skin. I couldn't afford to be distracted by him—I had to stay focused. This was my chance to prove I could handle myself, to show everyone that I wasn't just some extra baggage on this mission.

Hank was already in the pilot's seat, his large hands expertly navigating the controls. Storm sat beside him, ready to assist, her calm, confident presence always a comfort. The rest of us sat in the back, the quiet hum of the jet filling the space as we prepared for what lay ahead.

I stole a glance at Erik from across the cabin. His face was hard, his posture rigid as he leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn't so much as acknowledge my presence, and I was more than happy to return the favor. If he wanted to act like I wasn't there, that was fine by me. I had enough on my mind without worrying about what Erik Lehnsherr thought of me.

The jet took off smoothly, the acceleration pressing me back into my seat as we climbed higher into the night sky. I stared out the window, the lights of the city below shrinking as we rose into the clouds. My stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves and anticipation. I'd never been on a mission like this, and though I wasn't expected to do much more than observe, the stakes felt impossibly high.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Storm's voice came over the comms, steady and sure as she glanced back from the cockpit.

There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team. I stayed silent, knowing my role was simple—stay out of the way, stay observant, and stay ready.

My mind raced with possibilities, a thousand different outcomes flashing through my head. I wasn't used to this kind of high-stakes environment. Back at the orphanage, my problems were smaller, more manageable. Now, I was being thrust into a world where life-and-death decisions were made in an instant. I tried to steady my breathing, focusing on the rhythm of the jet's engines.

Erik hadn't said a word since we took off, and I kept my focus anywhere but on him. This was my first step into the world of the X-Men, and I wasn't about to let his disdain pull me off track.

We landed smoothly, the jet’s ramp lowering into a snow-covered landscape. The facility loomed ahead of us, barely visible through the falling snow. The cold air hit my face the moment I stepped off the jet, sharp and biting, but I focused on keeping my nerves in check.

Storm handed each of us an earpiece as we gathered outside the jet, her voice calm but commanding. "These will keep us connected. Stay in communication at all times. We don't know what we'll find in there, so be prepared."

I nodded, slipping the earpiece in place, adjusting my vest as I glanced around. The others were already gearing up, and Erik, as usual, was off to the side, ready for anything. I caught his eye for a brief moment, but he quickly looked away, as if to remind me he still didn’t think I belonged here.

Storm continued giving instructions, pairing us up. "Flora, you're with Raven. Hank will stay back in the jet, monitoring everything and ready for extraction if necessary."

I gave a quick nod to Raven, who shot me a confident smile. "Stick with me, and you'll be fine," she said, her voice light but serious. I appreciated her reassurance, even though my stomach was still doing flips.

The snow crunched under our boots as we moved toward the facility, Raven leading the way while I kept close behind her. The cold was relentless, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins kept me moving. This was it—the moment I'd been waiting for. My first real mission. Even if I was just here to observe, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. People’s lives were at stake, and I had to stay sharp.

Through the comms, Storm’s voice echoed in my ear. "Everyone, stay alert. Keep your eyes open."

As we reached the entrance, Raven motioned for me to stay low. She transformed into her blue form, her keen eyes scanning the surroundings. "No guards," she whispered, her breath visible in the cold air. "But that doesn't mean it’s clear inside."

I nodded, staying close to her as we carefully made our way inside the facility. The cold steel of the building felt oppressive, the quiet even more unsettling than the storm raging outside. My senses were on high alert, every creak and gust of wind making me jumpy.

We moved through the dimly lit halls in silence, the only sound our soft footsteps and the occasional static over the comms as the others checked in. Raven led the way with confidence, her movements fluid and precise, while I did my best to keep up and not get in the way. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline spiking with each corner we turned.

Suddenly, Storm’s voice crackled through the earpiece again. "Any sign of the targets?"

Raven paused, glancing at me before responding. "Nothing yet. We're moving deeper into the facility."

As we continued through the eerie corridors, the weight of the mission settled even heavier on my shoulders. The further we went, the more real it felt—this wasn't some exercise. Lives were at stake, and we were here to make a difference.

Raven gave me a look, her eyes narrowing as we reached a door at the end of the hallway. "Stay behind me," she whispered, her voice tense. "This might be where things get messy."

I took a deep breath, nodding, and prepared for whatever lay beyond.

..

The gunfire had erupted so suddenly, the chaos catching me completely off guard. Raven and the others were locked in combat with the guards, and I knew I was out of my depth. My instincts screamed at me to find cover, so I ducked into an open room down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest as I slammed the door behind me.

The room was dimly lit, the hum of machinery filling the silence. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed the massive metal box sitting in the center of the room, its surface scratched and dented as if it had seen years of wear. It wasn't a cage meant for animals-it was far more ominous, the kind of containment meant for something or someone dangerous.

I should have stayed put. I should have radioed the others or called for help. But something in me-some unexplainable instinct-told me to move closer. My heart raced as I stepped toward the box, my hand trembling slightly as I reached out with my telekinesis. I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I couldn't stop myself.

The heavy door of the box creaked open slowly, and the moment the seal broke, alarms blared through the facility. Flashing yellow lights flickered wildly, bathing the room in a harsh, chaotic glow. The alarm rang loud in my ears, but all I could focus on was what-or who-was inside.

As the door fully opened, a man stepped out. He was only wearing black shorts, his body covered in scars and muscle. But it was the headgear that caught my attention-an odd contraption strapped tightly around his skull, looking uncomfortable, even painful. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

Then three guards burst into the room, guns drawn, shouting commands. The man reacted instantly, launching himself at them with a speed I hadn't expected. His fists shot out, and to my shock, long metal claws extended from his knuckles. He drove them into the guards with brutal efficiency, their bodies crumpling as bullets ricocheted off his body, seemingly doing nothing to slow him down.

I stood there, frozen in place, my mind racing to catch up with what I was seeing. The man turned back to me, his eyes still filled with pain and confusion. I didn't know what to do, but I sensed that despite his violence, he was suffering. I could feel what he was feeling, pain, confusion and sadness.

I stepped closer, my heart hammering in my chest. "It's okay," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Let me help you."

He hesitated, his breathing ragged, but he didn't attack. Slowly, I reached up, my hands trembling as I touched the metal contraption on his head. His eyes flicked toward me, confused and wary, and for a second, I thought he might lash out.

But then, with a grunt of pain, he let go of my wrists.

I gently pried the headgear off, feeling the tension release from his body as it fell to the floor with a heavy clang. He began tearing off the wires and holter monitor stickers stuck to his chest, tossing them aside like they were nothing.

Just as I was about to speak again, the door burst open, and Raven and Scott rushed in. The man spun, claws ready to attack, but before he could make a move, I reached out and grabbed his arm, channeling my power.

"Sleep," I whispered softly, pushing calm into him with everything I had.

He wavered, his body sagging under my touch, and then, with a heavy thud, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Raven's voice snapped through the haze. "Why didn't you answer?!" she shouted, her eyes wide with a mix of anger and concern.

I blinked, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. I hadn't even realized I'd ignored the earpiece, too focused on the man in front of me, too wrapped up in the chaos. "I... I didn't hear it," I muttered, shaking my head as I tried to catch my breath.

Scott looked down at the unconscious man, his expression grim. "What the hell is this place?"

"I don't know," I whispered, my eyes still locked on the man I had just subdued. "But whatever they were doing to him... it was wrong."

Raven gave me a hard look, her tone softer but still tense. "You shouldn't have opened that cage, Flora."

"I know," I admitted quietly, guilt creeping into my voice. "But... he was in pain. I couldn't just leave him like that."

The sound of boots echoing down the hall signaled the others' approach, and we knew we had to move. Storm's voice crackled through the earpiece. "We need to get out of here-now. Extraction in two minutes."

I glanced at Raven, who gave me a nod. "Help us carry him. We can't leave him behind."

With that, we moved quickly, lifting the unconscious man and preparing to make our escape.

🏷️ @nizem8 @maximumchilddreamland @mostlymarvelgirl

Chapter: FIVE

[another-bryk-in-the-wall]

Coast (Brian May x f!reader)

i am being cringe fail and writing rpf cause my brain is empty but my heart is full of love for the space poodle.

please enjoy. or don't. i'm not the police.

warning: tooth rotting fluff, rpf

words: 1000

*

“That’s it. I have enough. Pack your things, love, we are gonna drive out.”

Two days ago, Brian had come home from yet another exhausting trip. This time the band had to venture to New York for discussion of new songs, new albums, new tours, new this, new that… Everything new, produce this, do that, and not a single ‘thank you’ was muttered for making the company millions in revenue. They didn’t even book the band some fancy hotel rooms. No no no, they had to save money too. And the worst for Brian? The city. The light pollution was so bad, he couldn’t even see the night sky from his tiny balcony. The whole city smelt like weed, alcohol and piss mixed with vomit. Everyone at the subway stations looked like they’d rather throw themselves on the rails than spend another day in the office. Charming.

To put it short, Brian was pissed when he came back home.

A mutual friend who owned a bit of land an hour and a half away from London was called, arrangements were made quickly, and before you knew it, you were on the road with a stressed Brian. He needed nature so badly, longing for it after only seeing concrete and asphalt these past few weeks. His ears were longing for the songs of the birds early in the morning, maybe even getting woken up by a rooster. His nose was longing for something different than the stench of the city. His eyes were longing for a bright green landscape. But most of all, he was longing for you.

Thankfully the weather forecast seemed good, unusually good for England. On the way to the cabin, it didn’t rain a single drop, the only sound heard was the singing of Brian to the songs on the radio.

At this moment, you mean everything

You in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess

Verge on dirty

“Look Brian, if you have some needs, you have to speak them out loud.”, you couldn’t help yourself, teasing your love next to you. A smile spread over his face and he just had to laugh. Everything you said and did made him so happy. The rose coloured glasses hadn’t gone away, even after so many years.

“Not here, not in the car! Imagine someone sees us and takes a picture!”, Brian faked shock, but you both knew you were even wilder when Queen wasn’t that big. So many fucks in bar bathrooms, behind bars, whenever a few minutes of passion fit into his busy schedule. One time you even did it in a studio, but never again after Freddie complained about the wet spot he accidentally sat on. Oh no, you had spilt your coke before, you had quickly apologized and got a towel to clean the seat. For whatever reason, Freddie believed you. Roger’s quirked eyebrow and his elbow into Brian’s side spoke of a different chain of thought. John was just disappointed, but that was nothing new with the antics you two pulled from time to time.

“You got a point there.”

*

From the cabin, you were able to hear the sea, a sound Brian had missed just as much. Unpacking and getting to know the place you were in, you both were pleasantly surprised. The cabin consisted of one main room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom. And a small conservatory, big enough to dine in, with a small couch facing the sea.  It was enough for you, enough to calm down and relax. Enough to get away from the craziness that is your life.

After a quick errand run into the nearest town, evening drew close. Together you had cooked a pasta dish Brian loved, some creamy sauce with broccoli and even more herbs. Dinner was served in the conservatory, the stars as witness to how good the pasta tasted.

“Love…”, Brian started halfway through the previously silent meal, piquing her attention, “Could you imagine living like this? Out in the countryside, around us barely anything but nature? Maybe own a few animals?”

You thought for a moment, imagining yourself in this situation. Brian was looking after the sheep you had bought together, bleating heard from all over. For whatever reason he was shirtless and sweaty as he commanded the herd, making sure they were safe and sound. Oh,  dominant, shirtless, sweaty man, even better, YOUR man…

“Earth to (Y/N), Earth to (Y/N), are you still here?”, Brian’s laughter ripped you out of your thoughts, joining him in his laughter.

“Sorry, I just imagined you as a hot farmer!” “Hot farmer! You think that’s something I could pull off?”

“Of course! Brian, my dear, you would make a brilliant farmer! Even better than what Paul McCartney did back in the 70s.”

“Hmmm…maybe? Who knows…”

“And if you suck at farming, we’ll dye your hair white and put you into the stable with the sheep. It’s not like there’d be much of a difference.”

“Hey!”

*

The morning sun tickled your nose, shining through the cracks of the curtains. Despite having two blankets, Brian managed to ditch his own and got under yours, his arms wrapped around your middle. He was a human radiator, spreading warmth and comfort no matter where you were. You smiled at the feeling of pure love spreading through your body and moved into his touch, your body melting against his. It felt as if you were made for each other in every possible sense. The familiar feeling of Brian next to you could calm every bad thought, as they didn’t matter as long as you were with him. The familiarity of him was something you longed and missed so much when he was on tour or whatever trip they had to do for the band, yet there was something exciting and new whenever he came back. Every tour brought something new out of him, something new that you were excited to find and figure out. If this trip was the same? You had yet to discover.

[meneatyoghurt]

Paris, 10am

I couldn't resist a little fic inspired by that blooper.

~~

Read on AO3

The room is different in the morning sun. Where it was bathed in a warm glow as they fell into bed last night, it's now bright with natural light, the freshness of spring. Henry watches as Alex shrugs on his jacket, the last thing he needs. He's still lazing around in one of the hotel's soft dressing gowns, leaning back into a Louis XV chair with his ankles crossed on a footstool. If Alex has to leave, Henry is going to use every second before he goes to drink his fill.

"You're really just going to lounge there looking like…" Alex gestures towards Henry's general presence, searching for the right words with his hand and grasping nothing but air, "that—"

"Eloquent," Henry deadpans.

"—looking all coquettish—"

At that, Henry's nose wrinkles, "I preferred the first attempt, uninspired as it was."

"—wearing nothing but a robe, when you know I have to be on a plane in an hour." Alex ends his fit of pique with a throw of his hands, always so expressive in the way he moves his body. Not like Henry, who has been taught to hold himself up and in since he was in short trousers.

"Something to think about while you're on said plane. Remember me fondly, darling, for who knows when we shall see each other next." He takes a pointed sip of his tea, a flourish to his verbose affectation, too posh even for his own usual speech patterns.

"You are insufferable," Alex says, but he's coming closer anyway, leaning in to kiss the faux innocence from Henry's face.

He slides a deft hand inside Henry's robe, palming the warm flesh underneath. "You're sure you're not too sore?"

"Mm, only pleasantly so. I might have a soak in the bath after you've left."

"Now that's something to think about on the plane." Alex's gaze drifts upwards a little, a smile sweeping his face, as if he's already thinking about it. Or looking at where the plane will be.

"If you're lucky, maybe you won't have to imagine it."

"Naughty photos? Hell yes. Count me in."

Henry holds his hand out to Alex, a silent 'help me up', even though he in no way needs it. It's just an excuse to have once last physical connection, to feel the softness and hardness of Alex's palm in his, the firm grip and the silken skin. When he's on his feet, he palms Alex's cheek and jaw with one hand, then leans in to embrace him.

What's meant to be a hug goodbye doesn't remain one for long. Alex flutters a butterfly kiss to his cheek, his brow, his jaw, before taking his earlobe between his teeth and gently nipping. He moves down to Henry's neck, alternating kisses light and heavy, his tongue peaking out to taste the skin, still salty from the night before.

He lets Alex manoeuvre them and lower him to the bed, and lets himself enjoy the moment. Alex buried in the juncture between his jaw and shoulder, secreting kisses into that most intimate and sensitive of places, and Henry resolves to hold them there as he closes his eyes.

Until the soft kisses turn into trumpeting vibrations, loud, rude and wet. He instinctively starts hitting out at Alex, a childish response to a childish act.

"Ugh, go back to America!" is what comes out of him as he pushes Alex off him and the bed. "You absolute tosser. See if I ever let you near me again."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to!" Alex manages to get out as he laughs with his whole body.

"I really don't think you did," Henry says primly, trying to purse his lips but fighting a losing battle against the smile tugging at him.

"You said it yourself, who knows when I'll get another opportunity." He straightens his jacket and gives the room, and Henry, one last look. "And now I really have to go." He grabs a croissant and takes a monstrous bite from it, declaring "One for the road," as he chews. Leaning in to kiss Henry again, chasing when he tries to dodge, he presses flaky pastry into his lips. "And one of those too."

"Get out of here. I'll see you…when I see you," Henry concludes, thinking that they haven't yet made any solid plans on when they'll next meet. Something is sure to come up.

"Oh, one more thing," Alex stops himself abruptly just before he leaves, suitcase in hand.

"Yes, Columbo?"

He leans in close, lips and breath tickling the shell of Henry's ear, as he whispers in his very best French accent, "Croissant."

Henry can't help the decidedly unregal snort that comes out of him. "Mm, not bad. Keep practising and you'll soon sound like a real Parisian."

"Hope not, those guys are rude as fuck. See ya later, Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox." With one more kiss to Henry's cheek he's out the door. Henry can just hear Amy's exasperated "Finally," drift through before it closes behind him.

Ten minutes later, just as he's slipping into the bathtub, he receives a text from Alex. I don't believe you've ever seen Columbo. It's swiftly followed by a GIF of a Bake Off contestant butchering the pronunciation of 'guacamole'.

He sends back You're rapidly talking yourself out of those photos before he melts into the water, a giddy, blissful laugh bubbling out of him.