#Green ember book

[noodlefulnoodleguy]

AND SO IT BEGINS

[abbydjonesoffaerie]

Well, I finally read it. After years of everyone asking if I'd read it, and trying to read it but not really getting into it, I've finally read it.

Let's talk about what I didn't like:

-maybe I'm dense but I spent a large majority of this book feeling so lost. Like things kept being hinted at and I could tell by the writing that they were supposed to catch my eye, but I didn't know why they were significant. I just felt confused for most of the book, or like I wanted to grab the collar of the next rabbit, give him a good shake, and say, "what is happening!?" Now, I'm not saying I don't enjoy a good mystery, I'm saying I didn't enjoy the writing because it's hard to connect when you can't see any connections.

-again with the denseness, but I had the hardest time tracking both action scenes and hallways. I'm not sure if there was too much stage direction, not enough, or just badly done. But in almost all the fights and navigating of spaces, I was again lost.

-last, I was a bit weirded out by the rabbits that run like rabbits, but have thumbs. Lol. This one was probably just my brain being weird because I've always loved animal stories. It doesn't bother me a bit in Redwall. Maybe that's because the animals are always depicted as upright. I don't know. I know it bothered my imagination. One minute standing with a sword, the next running on all fours. (How does Heather run in a dress?)

Okay, those were my issues, but what did I like? I loved the Christian symbolism. I loved the honored warriors. I loved rich oaths taken and the loyalty. I loved the layered redemption stories and I love Picket once he met Helmer, who was instantly my favorite character. I loved Heather being told to shut up by an older woman and that she was a storyteller.

There was a lot that are things that I'm always happy to see in a story, and I fully intend to read the other books. There were just some things that I struggled with a bit.

Fun books for boys and girls. Lots if good character building lessons, and boys and girls treated as blessedly different. Opening chapter was epic.

[greyssync]

Green ember book

Helmer, feeling guilty, expressed the desire to be exiled despite this, Smalls honored him with a salute and Blackstar's oath. Helmer attacks a raptor dummy for practice.įortunately, Helmer was saved due to the intervention of Wilfred, Smalls, and Lord Rake, though the latter rebuked him for his actions. After warming up and terrifying a young mother whose child wandered too close to his tree, Helmer began a dangerous training exercise that nearly resulted in his death several times. Picket was immediately impressed by Helmer, and looked for him again the next morning Helmer was not in the Savory Den, but was seen later during Emma's tour of Cloud Mountain. Wilfred also saw Helmer and recognized him, and voiced his surprise at Helmer’s presence to Lord Rake. Both Heather and Picket noticed him, sitting alone and expressing disdain when another rabbit asked to join him. Helmer was present in the Savory Den when Wilfred Longtreader's party arrived following their escape from Nick Hollow. Though he worked hard, he shunned the company of the other inhabitants and came to be regarded by many as a plague. Eventually he made his way to Cloud Mountain, where only a handful of individuals knew the truth about him, with most believing him to be a former knight of King Jupiter's. Coming to see the forthcoming war against Morbin Blackhawk and his allies as fruitless, he became bitter and antisocial, convinced that there was no hope for the Cause. At that point, Helmer's aim became clear: to avenge himself, his bucks, and his king on the traitor rabbit and his vile masters.įollowing the murder of King Jupiter, Helmer was separated from his family and closest friends. This was doubtless Garten's intent, as the motto of the King's Arm had been a willingness to sacrifice one's arm and one's all. Despite the wisdom of not selling his life uselessly, Helmer came to feel he had betrayed the king. He chose not to do so, recognizing that he would only die in a futile effort he later escaped, but was left with a scar. Left with his sword, Helmer had the option to remove his arm and go to the aid of his king. Garten then had Helmer chained to a tree near the Crossing by his right arm, where he could watch the betrayal and death of King Jupiter. Recognizing the deception, Helmer led his troops back, only to be ambushed by Garten's forces, who killed Helmer's beloved soldiers. Helmer came to command the elite King's Arm unit, a group of young bucks whom he loved like sons.Įventually, Helmer came to suspect that Garten Longtreader was plotting treachery, and Garten attempted to prevent his interference by sending his unit on a pointless assignment. Eventually, Helmer became a Lord Captain of the King's Army under King Jupiter, whom he deeply admired. Other comrades of Helmer’s youth included Frye and Wilfred Longtreader. Despite this, Hewson chose not to participate in a prank that Helmer and Airen pulled against a group of naval officers. Helmer and Hewson eventually became friends after fighting alongside each other, with Helmer saving Hewson from an enemy wolf. Helmer developed a heated antagonism with Hewson due to their differing social standing. His career survived the incident, though Airen was furious with the pair for not including her. At one point, he did jeopardize his standing by swimming to Forbidden Island with Snoden. Unfortunately for Helmer, he proved as natural a soldier as his namesake Brindle Cove had been a sailor, and there was always more fighting to be done. Helmer later joined the army, though he hoped that he would be able to return home and take up the family occupation of farming. As they grew these activities would grow to include Snoden, who later married Airen. Brother and sister enjoyed an antagonistic friendship, with Airen often goading Helmer into various actions besides their rambles in the Great Wood. Helmer, and likely Airen, was cared for by an aged nurse. Helmer and his sister Airen were born in First Warren, and lived in their family home built by their great-grandfather.

[andiatas]

One of my goals for 2024 is to get more people involved in Fandom. I love the communities here on Tumblr & there are so many great & clever people on here who carry so much knowledge. However, that knowledge can & should be shared - at least in my opinion - & an easy way to do that is to get involved on Fandom & their wikis.

Now, I promise, it's not intimidating - if you can create & edit a Tumblr post, you can edit articles & pages on a wiki. Here, you can find an easy step-by-step guide on how to get started with contributing, but you can also message me & maybe I can help guide you through any question marks.

For this first post, I want to highlight some wikis dedicated to children's literature that need some help & love from their fans:

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - the pages linked here need to be expanded, so if you know something, don't be shy :)

Amelia's Notebooks - the pages linked here need to be expanded

The Blackwell Pages - all pages need to be expanded on

Bone - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Boxcar Children - links need to be added to these pages

Children of the Lamp - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Charlie Bone/The Children of the Red King - all pages need to be expanded on

The Chrestomanci Series - links need to be added to these pages

Emily of New Moon - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Endling - links need to be added to these pages

----

The Green Ember - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Howl's Moving Castle - all pages need to be expanded on

Jumanji - links need to be added to these pages

Little House on the Prairie - add links from IMDb, TV.com & TV Guide to each episode's page, plus the complete cast & crew for each episode

The Magic Thief - all pages need to be expanded on

The Magic Tree House - links need to be added to these pages

The Magisterium - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Night Speakers - the pages linked here need to be expanded

Ruby Redfort - the pages linked here need to be expanded

----

The School for Good and Evil - links need to be added to these pages

Septimus Heap - the pages linked here need to be expanded

The Sisters 8 - all pages need to be expanded on

The Three Investigators - links need to be added to these pages

Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn - all pages need to be expanded on

The Underland Cyclopedia - the pages linked here need to be expanded

The Unwanteds Series - links need to be added to these pages

Warhorse - all pages need to be expanded on

Wonder - pages for the cast and crew of the Wonder film need to be added

Zathura - all pages need to be expanded on

Now, this is quite an extensive list, but if your favourite book or series isn't mentioned here, I suggest checking out the literature page, the book club or go to this page & simply search for your favourite book/series/author.

To repeat what I said at the beginning of this post, there is a step-by-step guide on how to start contributing, but don't be shy to message me if you have any questions :)

[meadow-roses]

Just thinking about what they might have been talking about on their way up to Cloud Mountain that Picket couldn't hear. And Heather's latent magic powers....

[kanerallels]

Okay, I'm vibing at home procrastinating from writing so now's as good a time as any for this post that I owe @starbirdrising!

Behold: My Top Ten Fantasy Books/Series For When You Need Something With Magic And Kingdoms And Good Vs. Evil With Good Winning And Fun Adventures And Probably Dragons So Basically You Want To Read Narnia But Something New Would Be Fun:

"Valiant", by Sarah McGuire. I will recommend this book for as long as it takes the larger part of my followers to read it. It's a fantasy fairy tale retelling of "The Valiant Little Tailor", which is in the gray area between well known and "wait that's a real fairy tale??" where The Seven Swans and King Thrushbeard resides. The general plot is this girl moving to a new city with her dad, but due to unforseen circumstances she has to pretend to be a tailor to make a living. And then giants show up. And she accidentally gets involved. There is a bit of romance, but it's really, really good. Also the writing style is IMMACULATE and there's adoption. (this is one of the only single books on the list, the rest are series)

"The Dragon With A Chocolate Heart", by Stephanie Burgis. First of all, I should have asked for this for my birthday. Second of all, this is about a dragon who gets turned into a human. By a food mage. Have you heard of a food mage before? No, you haven't, but they're amazing. Especially when it comes to chocolate. So, said dragon sets off to seek her fortune as a chocolatier! Super fun platonic relationships, and there are DRAGONS

"The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making", by Catherynne M. Valente. How can you turn away from an incredibly cool name like that?? This is your classic portal fantasy-- girl travels by leapord to Fairyland, gets up to trouble with a Wyverary, and has to face off with an evil Marquess! Also it's a series, and the prose is freaking STUNNING. I reread the last one recently, and there was crying

"The Green Ember", by S.D. Smith. My sister just called this series "this generation's Narnia" and WOW is she right. The journey of two young rabbits as they discover their heritage and the war to save their world-- it's beautiful!! And also really funny

"Magic Marks The Spot", by Caroline Carlson. This one has PIRATES. It's about a navy admiral's rebellious daughter, who takes off to become a pirate instead of going to finishing school. It's funny and delightful and just such a good read!

"Breadcrumbs," by Anne Ursu. This rec is accompanied with a story, because I said so. So, when I used to actually have time and go to the library every week, I would always see this book. EVERY. TIME. It was weird. I ignored it for the longest time-- until finally one day I decided "may as well give it a shot" and brought it home with me. And HOLY HECK was it good. A retelling of The Snow Queen, this book is about friendship. And growing up. And it made me cry. And I love it.

"Storybound", by Marissa Burt. This one is a duology, and they're both amazing! The first one tells the story of Una, a girl who winds up in the world where stories come from. The sequel continues her adventures, and also introduces a character who I love so so much. He's so funny and carefree. Until he's not in which case holy SPADES IS HE COOL. Also I'm suddenly realizing this book may have inspired more of my WIP than I thought. I digress

"The Search For WondLa", by Tony DiTerlizzi. This is actually not fantasy. It is, in fact, sci-fi! It's about a girl who lives in an underground home with her robot caretaker. When their home is attacked, the girl escapes to discover that the Earth she thinks she was raised on isn't Earth after all-- it's another world entirely. It's got AMAZING found family, super cool world building, and it's just so fun!!

"Tuesdays At The Castle", by Jessica Day George. Okay it's been a while, so I don't remember the exact premise of this one. But as I recall, it's about a royal family who lives in a magical castle that can shift rooms and grow new parts as well! When the royal siblings' are under threat from foreign enemies, they have to work with the castle to protect each other. Super wholesome family vibes, and the series is really fun in general!

"Wizard For Hire", by Obert Skye. I could not tell you if or if not this is fantasy. But I can tell you that it's set in modern day, and it's about a boy who lived on his own from a young age after his parents disappeared. And one day, he finds an ad in the paper for a wizard, and hires him to find his parents. Shenanigans ensue (as well as really funny catchphrases and a lot of breakfast food. No one is surprised that I love this trilogy)

Well, that's all the room I have for now! This post was super fun to make-- I might make another bizarrely specific one like it someday! For now, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy some of these book recs

[accidental-spice]

GREEEN EMBERRRRRRR

YESSSSSSSSSSSS

Isn't it MAGNIFICENT???? I swear, I'll never NOT adore those books. I've read Ember Falls and Ember Rising more times than I can count!! (While waiting for Ember Rising and Ember Falls, of course. The most agonizing wait of my life)

Have you read all the books? Who are your favorite characters? And d'you have a favorite book? (I could never choose just one 🤣) ohhhh, and did you read The Last Archer, and the other side books?

Thanks for the ask!!!

[erawls-themaskedstoryteller]

The Winner of the Most Wayward Soul Silmaril 2023!

Winner of the Most Wayward Soul character from #fantasybooks! #bookcharacters #gollum #tolkien #Draco #Moash #Dustfinger #lotr #Athelas #citybetween #Kylegreenember #Silmawards2023 #harrypotter #inkheart #stormlightarchives #brandonsanderson

Gollum made his way along the gloomy cobblestone street of London, the smog dimming the late afternoon light nicely around him. You’d almost think it was night. Yes, precious, how lovely! But, ugh, precious–it was difficult to breathe in this place! He half coughed, half gagged to clear his airway. Why was he doing this, again? Coming all this way to such a foreign land to hand over some…

[the-chaotic-christian]

The Green Ember Re-read, Part 1

......this is totally not the twentieth time I've read the first book.

Anyways, because of that, this is less of a re-read and more of an analyze.

I'm starting with the prologue, so this is going to be a short post.

Prologues are always really hard for me to write, and re-reading this one I had a few notes;

This is a great 'theme prologue', literally the second bit of dialogue is 'I'm no traitor', which sets forth the most important virtue held in Natalian culture; Loyalty, particularly loyalty to the Crown.

.....It's not a great tone-setter, nor does it introduced characters that are important in the main series. SD Smith expanded on it later, but right now this tiny scrap of history just isn't super important.

Either way it's cool.

Thumbs up.

I'll be back. :)

[myplussizebookshelf]

F/F romance

Doesn't care by Deliah Green

D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding by Chencia C. Higgins

The Seafarer's Kiss by Julia Ember

Season of love by Helena Gree

Soft on soft by Em Ali

Mrs. Martin's Incomparable Adventure by Courtney Milan

Knit one, girl two by Shira Glassman

Get it right by Skye Kilaen

Eight kinky nights by Xan West

Curvy Girls Can't Date Curvy Girls by Kelsie Stelting

[darqx]

Some MORE BP/HH asks

Yes there are! The Battle Monks deal with those ones.

Yes it is! Or at least will be ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ I've been doing a lot of thumbnailing and once i finish this chapter i can possibly start actually making some pages lol.

His name is Zeke and he's a big (~6'8") demon softy who likes cooking :D And bacon 🥓

Is this chicken predominately supposed to be a pet or not cos BP!Zeke could very well just cook it.

Of course you can (please give credit for BP and say its an OC tho)! I'm honored that you want to :D However until i get BP out and about i probably can't interact with any art/info of BP OCs because this could be a problem if they turn out to be similar to any of my planned events/characters.

I kinda had no ideas for a doodle (sacrilege i know lol) but then remembered i had one doodle that I'm p sure never got put here.

I used this pic to reply to a friend once and it became one of our chat emotes lol.

He has a like...chateau/manor/whatever in the region that he rules over -nods- He doesn't live on Earth he just visits.

Yes

If i were to put it succinctly lol:

The main gang are/become friends, Caleb p much dislikes/is indifferent to everyone but particularly hates Izm and vice versa, the demons generally try to avoid Rire if they realise who he is, and Rire finds at least two people rather interesting.

Anon I'm also very confused about why you think bots(??) are a credible source of information |D; But to answer your question no he's not a demon.

I hate to say this but the demons already have marks indicative of themselves so, those for them XD

.D would maybe have something like the BP logo, Wei Ren a book, and Marcus could have a heart of embers or something 🤔

The demons I decided could hybridize with humans is actually somewhat random and based entirely on gut feeling lol. Half-breeds take more after the demon parent (as the genetics is stronger) but would have a lot less power than a full-fledged demon (and might be infertile, I haven't really thought about that aspect yet). Yes an abortion is possible.

All of my demon species have specific phenotypes. Eg Caleb's species has several different eye colours they can have, Caleb's happens to be green. If/when I make enough demon species I did have a tentative plan to make a field guide about them \o/

HH only ever existed as random one shots and stuff on my DA so if you were looking for like a webcomic you would be sorely disappointed lol.

To be fair to myself it DID actually have somewhat of a storyline but i never actually got around to it |D

LMAO XDD Ok, ok but listen if this happened it would only ever happen ONCE because omg have you ever had hair caught in your mouth? It is, the worst XD

Nope it is an all boys boarding school

It is a generally normal high school so normal high school subjects would apply haha, you know, things like English, Science, Maths, Art, Sport, Languages and various sub catergories etc.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Little Red Dress

Hancock x Fem! Reader | AO3

Summary: You're wearing a little red dress, one that teases and tantalizes Hancock. You're the Mayor of Goodneighbor's prized possession, and it does not bode well for you to tempt him so, especially in public.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ for KNIFE PLAY, Penis in Vagina Sex, Exhibitionism/Public Sex. Kissing, tit sucking, finger sucking, explicit language, PDA, and self-indulgent smut. Basically, I wanted to write something quick and dirty. >D

*Hancock is a little bit rough with you this time, but he would never hurt you.

Word count: 2.2k+

Notes: I've got it bad for Hancock. This is my second time writing for him! Sort of came out of nowhere. Ultimately, it could be interpreted as Hancock x female Sole. It's up to you to decide! Enjoy!

Hancock—he is decidedly more comfortable with public displays of affection than you would have imagined him to be, your throne expressly atop his lap, legs crossed for the sake of modesty in the presence of proper company. Your nights out are spent dolled up, clutched like a trophy by the Mayor of Goodneighbor—his prized possession over caps or chems—and what a lucky girl you are to be his favorite.

Hancock, with eager, explorative hands, hugging you from behind with his chin on your shoulder. His touch is firm, yet gentle, roving over every inch of your smooth skin left bare and assailable, the ghoul fondling your thighs, working higher, higher, skirting your lap to squeeze your waist with often unpredictable, gratifying tenderness.  

The man is anything but a mystery; you could read him like an open book if such things still existed, his lustful looks starting a fire between your legs that could just as soon be doused by how wet he can make you with a single glance, a single caress beneath the hem of your little red dress.

It drives him crazy, that dress, John desperate enough to pinch your ass in public—worse than that—whispering dirty little nothings in your ear, forcing you to suppress your giggling as the man himself pretends all is well, conversing with the good people of the Commonwealth.

It's a game. He doesn’t care—he’s into that sort of thing— not above making another man green with envy when it comes to you. Hancock has no trouble in reminding everyone just who you belong to, his favorite pastime sneaking you off to shadowy, secluded corners to fuck you with his eyes while withered fingers glide over tight curves and refined angles, just vague outlines in the dark, though his pupils glow like dwindling embers among black, charred logs, captivating you like a moth toward a flame.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks in a gravelly, self-assured tone, pulling you close, diggin’ your scent, and he knows you sure as fuck taste damn delicious.

It’s been too long, like chems that wore off; he needs another fix, and he’s willing to take it where he can get it. In fact, railing you in the back room of the Third Rail ain’t soundin’ too shabby right about now—you’re wearin’ a dress, after all—just hike it up.

“No,” you whisper, egging him on, desiring to get a rise out of Hancock in more ways than one. It works, the man leering down at you from beneath the short brim of his tricornered hat. His eyes are glistening, shining like polished marbles, staring into the depths of your soul. It can’t be helped, John’s hard-on riding against your thigh without shame, causing your breath to hitch.  

“No?” he presses, his negation laced with arrogance and disbelief. A hidden blade whisks out from decadent, stained sleeves, teasing you with nothing more than a good time. The cool texture of sleek metal grazes your skin, skimming your pulse point. Hancock’s knife trails down the swell of a breast to take a dilatory, lackadaisical dive between your cleavage; it threatens to slice shimmering red fabric in twain.

“I’m going to fuck you either way, sunshine,” he rasps, skinny lips, still so kissable, hovering tantalizingly over your own.

The knife end of his blade drifts along your belly, an expert flick of the ghoul’s wrist twirling it to catch betwixt two dexterous fingers. The hilt disappears up under your skirt; he knows you’re not wearing panties, that bit of cold steel broaching your entrance, sliding into slick, taut confines to penetrate you with ease.

“I-I know,” you offer demurely, a tremor to your voice, Hancock sliding the hilt in and out with delicate, precise strokes. His weapon of choice is carefully wielded, knowing what damage he could cause. He leans in close to your ear, reveling in the awestruck expression you’re sporting; he would stop in a heartbeat should you wish him to, yet you make no move to protest, nor do you plan to.

“Did you take your Rad-X like a good girl?” he asks dissolutely; his breath is warm, the combat knife’s handle slipping out once more to brush against your clit on its way up. The action causes you to dip forward even as you try to keep yourself steady, hands flat to the wall as he holds you in place.  

“Yes,” you answer bravely, your tongue moving to kiss your lover with all the passion currently welling up inside your chest; he skirts your attempt, his forefinger pinning your tongue, slithering its way past lips and teeth to delve into the moist cavity of your mouth.

“Of course you did,” he replies, sliding that digit in and out as you hold on, cheeks hollowing to the concave depths of a ghoul’s. You suck his index like it’s his cock; Hancock watches every nuanced movement with a tilt of his head, eventually pinching your cheeks closed with his thumb and middle, pulling his finger loose with a rousing pop.

“I’d say you’re good and ready,” he comments silkily, voice darkening as he holds the knife aloft for your inspection. It’s saturated in your own excess, Hancock licking the handle clean with the flat of his tongue. You watch, enthralled, though you’re sure you’re not the only one seeing this event unfold—the people of Goodneighbor talk—you’re not above being a source of gossip.

“Come on, sister,”  he coaxes, pallid fingers curling around the shoulder strap of your gown to tug you forward, still withholding that kiss you so sorely crave.

He drags you by this single strip of fabric, avoiding all other eyes but yours; you see people nudging, whispering, sharing glances, but it only adds fuel to the fire, Hancock ushering you to a lesser used area of the bar.

“But, Hancock, there’s peo—” you begin, the ghoul concealing his knife once more for later use, perhaps, clicking his tongue disrespectfully as he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“—Let ‘em watch,” the mayor of this seedy settlement snaps, escorting you past its nosy denizens to the farthest room, splaying his open palm across the small of your back as he gently drives you forward, directing you toward one particular chair in the process.

“Don’t play coy with me…” he grates, positioning you before a plush red high-back that rests against worn, chipped tile. He prods you with his skinny ribs, prompting you to rest your knee against its seat. You oblige, taking hold of sturdy wood to balance yourself as you feel a sudden draft—Hancock wastes no time in slinking your dress up past the round shape of your ass.

You feel like a cheap whore while at the same time exhilarated beyond measure, bending forward for a more pleasing angle as you glance over your shoulder at the ghoul whose cock is withdrawn, John trailing his mushroom tip along the moist line of your slit.

“But I can’t kiss you like this,” you beg, faced with rock and not Hancock, his idle hand slipping up the front of your risqué little number for his thumb to part pillowy lips, nestling its way in.

“Good girls know patience,” he slyly replies, rubbing soft circles against your already swollen clit. An indecent moan accompanies the insertion of his cock into your tepid core, Hancock beginning to roll forward, thrusting his hips against the meat of your ass as he fucks your pretty cunt from behind.

“Just admit you planned for this,” he hisses, one hand still working you as the other squeezes the fullness of a breast. You are hardly able to contain an audible expression of lust, breaths deep and slow as you attempt to curtail your mounting orgasm.

“You can’t resist me,” you brazenly claim, causing the man to rail against you harder, faster, the small flare of his temper only serving to please you; two fingers tweak a raised nipple as a form of punishment.

“Ought to make you suck me off instead; shut that smart mouth of yours,” he whispers bitingly, though he doesn’t mean a word. His favorite place is buried between your loins, so glossy and warm, like an inviting hug—one he wishes would never end.

“Do it,” you bait, although thoroughly enjoying yourself, John’s ribbed flesh hitting just the right spot, only to be ripped away just as suddenly. He slides out and whirls you around abruptly, causing a momentary sensation of vertigo, afraid you might lose your balance, though his grip is strong and secure.

You’re met with piercing black pupils amidst a sea of the deepest crimson, rivaling the color of dried blood. The mayor is testing you; you don’t back down, holding his gaze with the same intense, quiet ferocity.

“I have a better idea.” A shuffle down below, and he hoists you up with the use of with both sinewy arms, kicking that damned chair out of his way as he slams you back against the wall. You tighten your legs about him with his aid, enclosing his slim waist to lock him in; the ghoul fumbles to reinsert his aching prick inside you before you have time to say another word.

His tongue is in your mouth only briefly; you moan around it, muscles contracting and roiling like the waves of a once vast, unpolluted ocean as he plows you like there’s no tomorrow—and there very well may not be.

His hands are grasping, clawing, hungry, desiring to touch every part of you at the same time, though impossible— it is an infuriating truth he condemns. Hancock’s dick hounds your G-spot; you are no longer able to withhold the lewd noises you wish to make, the ghoul rudely clamping a palm over your mouth to temporarily deaden all sound.

“You’re lucky I don’t just rip this off you,” he grumbles, sucking the salt off your skin, buried in your throat for the purpose—he’s referring to that damnable dress that gets his irradiated blood pumping like nothing else. You manage a smile once he dislodges his hand, cloyingly sweet and meant as mockery, squeezing your thighs tighter to draw him in close.

Your own hands find the flesh of his belly, groping and molesting scar tissue and lean muscle, your pelvic floor flexing unfairly around him. You almost laugh at the visceral reaction that follows, Hancock having bitten down on his own ruined lip.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you insist, knowing just how much John loves you in that dress, loves how good you look in it, your actions pulling a moan from your lover that is like the most heavenly music to your ears.

“Wouldn’t I?” he asks defiantly, a series of quick movements causing you to gasp as he rips clean through the right strap; that pesky blade had reemerged to do his dirty work.

“Hancock!” you protest. The ghoul’s not listening, having loosed your tit for anyone who dare try and interrupt you; John kneads its doughy flesh in the crook of his palm.

“What’s that, sunshine?” he asks derisively, jerking his hips, his neck craning downward as he lifts your breast toward his mouth. He sucks your hardened nipple while pinching the other that has inevitably joined its twin, the single strap left intact not enough to hold it up, or in.

The bastard knows all your erogenous zones, this being but one of them, his patient suckling and the steady pump of his prick sending you over the edge.

You cum, coating his dick in your secretions, this time the ghoul allowing your voice to soar—it’s a pretty song, one he likes to listen to on repeat, and for the moment you don’t care who hears you.

“That’s my girl,” Hancock purrs, having released your breast from his puckered lips to watch the gesticulations of your face mid-throe. Your pleasurable spasming only causes his girth to convulse inside you, filling you full up with his infertile sperm.

Truth be told, it’s one of the benefits, being with a ghoul—no risk of an unwanted pregnancy at the end of the World. Only now, you are left half naked in the middle of a public space, Hancock’s ejaculate beginning to run down your leg.

Like coming down off a spectacular high, Hancock pulls out, stuffs his junk back in his pants, and looks you over.

“What a mess I’ve made,” he teases. You frown outright, though he thinks it’s cute, like you’re pouting or being petulant like a spoiled child—it’s one of the things that tugs on his heartstrings, though you never intend to abuse it.  

“What am I supposed to do now?” you whine, “I can’t go out there like—”

“—Hey, here,” Hancock proffers, taking a moment to remove his red frock coat. He gently shifts to stand behind you and slips it over your bare shoulders, assisting in the lift of your arms until you are comfortably sequestered in its warmth.

It fits, covering your naughty bits well enough that you will be able to make it back home to the State House. Hancock seems unable to help himself, a smirk tugging impishly at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you ask with a hint of attitude, pushing lightly against his chest with the palm of your hand. It’s as if he has a secret not worth keeping, his expression devolving into something a bit more playful.

“Looks good on you,” he affirms, taking up that offending hand to kiss. “But maybe next time you’ll listen to your mayor.”

[cowgirlcherrie]

❍ ACERBUS ! ━━ ellie williams.

⤹ pairing: vampire! ellie x slayer! reader

synopsis: the undead is restless, and an immortal blood sucker arrises for her last dance on earth. Beholding a slayer who has greater plans to lower the blood hungry vampire back into the ground

content: 18+ MDNI! blood mention. death/ talks of death. violence. betrayal. gaslighting. manipulation. hunting/killing. v similar to buffy the vampire slayer. kissing. talks of sex but not directly smut, smut adjacent honestly. vampire! slayer! abby but strictly platonic to the reader. L-Bombs. betrayal. weapons (no guns just daggers n stakes). Ellie is super damon salvatore + katherine coded in this. food play(with cherries). biting. sub-ish loser! ellie. Toxic/dark! ellie

Adficio. To weaken, discourage. To damage or to break.

Adficio was your finger. Coated in the saltiest vibrant red, gooey, and thick. Liquids dripped down the sides of the cushioned flesh and flowed never-ending through you. It tasted metallic, iron pulsating through the liquid; and salty, overly salted. Your tongue ran over the edge of your finger at your paper cut. It stung miserably but you had to get back to work.

As if it wasn’t already late, the sun setting with a musky burnt orange across the sky peeking through the rounded church glass windows of the artifact museum you were ecstatic to go home. Excited to take the warmest shower until the water was scorching hot against your skin and sleep comfortably in your queen-sized plush bed.

You weren’t expecting any more customers this evening, especially with recent town curfews due to mysterious deaths you were preparing to leave right after the key twisted in the lock. With 20 minutes left until closing, you finished dusting off the case of the bookshelf, putting the cream coffee-tinted paper (with your blood still tinting a corner) away into the hefty black book with gold embedded in the spine. 

It was an interesting piece of literature, somewhere amongst the lines of old-town supernatural lore and purely fiction but you loved it. It made you hungry, yearning for just a bite wanting more, wanting to sink your teeth into your own flesh. It was important and delicate thin papered copies; and faulty legal documents about a vampire who was rumored to live forever. Pictures; missing from the pages with the name scribbled out in white out. No gun, no knife, no magical life-threatening injury could kill her and she was forever cursed with the pain and treachery to live forever. Although you knew it wasn’t real you still felt yourself being a conspiracist and empathetic. Almost remorseful for the forever young vampire who didn’t ask for a life of immortality. Everything was a little unfair, even for the mundane. 

A bell chimed, signally that someone had walked into the museum. Thick-soled boots against the dark wood, creaking beneath them with every step. Shunned light on a lanky and average-height girl, drenched in black from head to toe. You naturally ignored her presence, that was what the bell was for; for questions and giving you the excuse to actually be bothered. So you continued your lonesome activities as proceeded. Picking up your thick wool scarf, wrapping it around your neck in loops; turning off the monitors, and locking the registers. 

DING! 

Ellie hit the bell with a toothy smirk on her face. Eyeing your figure almost as if you were a bakery-crafted treat as Ellie ran her tongue against the tip of her pointy canines. 

“Hi” 

Just Hi? You scrunched up your face in confusion at the girl’s rather awkward and sudden intro, her voice was raspy yet soft n direct but she kept her communication clear. If you were being honest she looked dead. Skin pale and drained of any colors besides her cheeks and the root red on her lips, sunken circles around her green ember eyes. She didn’t even look real.

“We are about to close so any prolonged question can wait until tomorrow.” you confessed, keeping it short and sweet, as the girl in front of you only frowned. 

You turned your back for a second, reaching into the mini locker behind the desk to grab your coat and your keys, pulling the fabric closer to your chest, when amidst the silence —

DING! 

Ellie hit the bell again, making you groan as you turned slowly to look at the auburn-haired girl showcasing a sarcastic smile before reverting her face to a serious expression. 

“I am Ellie, and you…you look like you can help me” Ellie whispered sweetly; playfulness rang in her voice as she looked down at the black book that are on the counter. Drool almost dripped out as she looked at the book with her lips parted. 

“Did you miss the part where I said we were—”

“Closing soon, yeah yeah I got it. Don’t care, Listen I just need this book and I promise, I’ll be out of your hair” Ellie pleaded bringing her hands up in a prayer position as she gave you a pout. Slowly gliding her ring-coated fingers against the book, making you rush to pull on it from the other end.

“Sorry not for sale! This isn’t a library” 

“But it’s…fiction, right? You can make another one” Ellie pulled it into her more, her hands slightly overpowering the grip you had on the book.

“Rules are rules, nothing leaves this museum if it’s not rented” 

“So what I am hearing is I can have it?”

“For $100”

Ellie gasped.

“For free? thanks!~” Ellie gave one final tug loosening the book from your very hands and pulling it into her chest. 

“I’ll be back! [HEY!] Don’t worry! Don’t stress probably not with the book! [That’s stealing!] Not if it’s rented! Thank you for your help!” Ellie shouted as she bolted out the door, sticky fingers webbed around the book as she ran out.

Making you let out an exacerbated sigh at the odds. You were so going to get fired. 

Adiuvo  To help or to aid, to assist

If someone told you that the museum book thief would be your girlfriend you would have told them they were lying. It’s been 3 months since the two of you met; 2 that you have officially started dating, although it didn’t feel like it. 

Ellie was more secretive than you thought. A mansion to herself where she lived alone which was oddly dark and gothic, you were for certain she would have caused a black paint shortage. Her house was emblematic of a period piece from the 19th century almost a screenshot of a fragment of time. The only odd thing was the mirrors being covered in every corner. A black satin cloth draped over the gold ribbed mirrors almost stapled there with a DO NOT TOUCH! 

Ellie hated pictures, she hated phones and settled on a rather outdated Blackberry where she really could only text and make important calls.

Ellie also disappeared often during the day, you only ever really saw her when it was rainy or pushing 8 pm. She’d go ghost on a sunny day but made up for it by pampering you with gentle kisses until you were coated in purple at your neck. 

For all of her cons; sins and flaws; aka the disappearing act she made up for it every time. She made it impossible for you to leave. Caging you in by gifting you things that only a fool would leave behind. She gave you a gift of a dainty necklace, as her hands rubbed against your neck to your shoulders placing it right at the center, locking the clasp, and begging you to never take it off. Ellie’s hands didn’t move from behind you when she gave you the necklace that night. It was almost as if she tempted to choke you with it until you listened to her. So you nodded, grabbing onto the little charm, before bringing up a hand to your nose; scrunching your face up at the weird smell the necklace was emulating. Almost like rosemary, thieves, and rotting onion. But you didn’t ask questions, you couldn’t before she whisked you away with a brief kiss to your lips, nibbling at your moisturized lips. 

“You love me, right?” 

You loved her. With all your precious human beating heart you loved her. Loved her so much that you allowed her to get vulnerable with you that night in the bedroom.

Bashful yet bitchy and sarcastic Ellie became demonic, rough, and perfectly submissive. Ellie was a sucker for fruits. The one human food that didn’t make her stomach queasy and the only thing that could satisfy her cravings for your blood. Preferably all red to enhance the eroticism of the taste.

Ellie found passion in draining the juice out of cherries, swirling her tongue over the plump treat poking her fangs out, before dipping her head down gliding the juices amongst your neck from her tongue.

Ellie repeated this action again. Taking the gentle cherry and squeezing it over your neck, swirling its juices onto your skin with her slender fingers before chewing it whole. Licking her finger tips as she swallowed the fruit whole tossing the pit to the floor.

Ellie watched as your neck dripped the dark crimson liquid, rushing to lick it up; before any of it reached your sheets to leave a fresh splosh stain of red. Ellie was drunk off of the sight of you. Licking over you like a lollipop as her tongue scraped your neck, getting close to your ear.

Ellie lost control.

between the bittersweet taste of the cherries, your fresh and loud perfume it was driving her crazy. Ellie thought her head was screwed on tight, but smelling the scent of one she would call her lover Ellie wanted to do nothing more than cover you in her own. Mask you from the world, hiding you away in greed and hunger.

Her hands gripped at the sheets, fist balled up as she masked a moan struggling to do so when your hand was in her pants. Ellie unfolding like a red lace satin ribbon until she was nothing but a soul. Climax rising deeper…and deeper. You were rubbing up and down in between her folds as she shuttered to hold herself up. Your fingers wet and covered in her juices enough for the wetness to fill the room with a simple pat.

Ellie took the initiative to dig her own hand in between your sleep shorts, mirror your hand motions as the lewd sounds escaped your lips in pure appeasement. Clawing at her back like a cat with your freehand.

Ellie was heavy breathing as her pitch got louder and higher, hips bucking as her hair clung to her forehead in fits of sweat.

Ellie turned into nothing but a moaning mess that night. Shrouding her head in your neck pampering kisses until she couldn’t control the cobra shake of her sharpened fangs pricking her tongue, offsetting her tastebuds. No, she couldn't.

Ellie's mind was shouting a mixture of no's and yes's as she tried to pull away only for you to pull her closer. Ellie let out an animalistic growl muttering an oh fuck before she sunk her teeth into your neck.

“Fuck…wait” Ellie moaned out. She was glad you couldn’t see her face, eyebrows furrowed but her eyes a deep red as veins started to crawl through her skin preparing her to finish off the feed.

Ellie knew if she fed off of you she wouldn’t be able to stop. Until you were one of her, a vampire and your beating heart stopped. Like Ellie needed you, she needed the book; she was going to complete the prophecy.

It starts with you, her perfect pawn.

You tasted like a rich pomegranate in the summer, Ellie’s fangs pulsating as it was deep in the flesh on your neck. Shaking your tender flesh in between her teeth like a dog.

Ellie didn't draw blood but punctured the skin, wincing at the sound of your skin separating between her fangs through her gentle ears. You pushed her away squeezing your eyes closed in pain. Skin pulsing and stinging as her mouth left your neck.

“Ow!- did you just…did you just bite me?”

The redhead stopped, freckles coated a red flush amongst her pale skin, Ellie rambled a hundred sorries. Like a deer gone hunting the cherry juice stained her chin and around her mouth as if she had been messy eating and playing into a ruby lipstick. Stumbling and tripping over her feet as she rushed to put her shoes on and head for your front door as you shouted her name behind her.

Her hair was frazzled, her leather jacket discarded, and her fly unfortunately down.

Leaving you in a mess of saliva and cherry juice; with a pulsating bite mark in your kneck.

48 hours and a complicated reddit search later, with Ellie out of your hair; due to her shame and embarrassment was enough time for a blonde hair slayer to play witness protection.

You were steadily growing frustrated at the repetition of the doorbell ringing as the person on the other end was hitting it like a childish teenager playing ding-dong ditch. Rushing to the door slamming it open to be met with a tall buff blonde who was giving you a perfect smile. Likewise to Ellie, she was notably pale, the color drained from her face almost fading away to her hair making her look like a stoned statue. Thick raybands on her eyes as she held up a terribly condition detectives badge.

“Sorry to cause a disruption, but are you y/n?” The girl spoke up, leaning into her one arm that was posted up against the door creating a distance before the two of you. 

You remained silent pushing your knit cardigan closer to cover up your chest in the nippy pre-winter air. 

“I’m Abby, Abby Anderson and I believe you know someone who is being a threat to this town.”

You froze, eyeing Abby in front of you as she dug around into her leather jacket pocket, plucking out a very old square picture. Placing the picture face down into your hands allows you to unveil it as if it were a gift. Curiosity got the best of you, aching and throbbing fingertips as you vastly whipped it over to view your lover. Your heart felt as if a chain wrapped tightly around the delicate artery feeling as if the wind had knocked out of you. It was Ellie. Your Ellie but this time she was wearing Victorian clothing, a white blouse peeking through as it was a perfected headshot photographed with just the right amount of dusting and age. She was the missing piece of the book. The name scribbled out it was all her -- the book was all hers.

“I don’t…” you begin flipping the picture back over and putting it in front of Abby, with your hand out “I don’t know who this is. . .”

“I knew you would say that”

Abby snickered as she looked down rubbing her boots against your welcome matt, 

“I think its time we chat. Could I have a glass of water please” Abby sends a smile as you prepare to turn your back on the blonde in front of you

Abby was always ahead. Ahead of Ellie, ahead of you, she had been hunting for years. After an accidental bite forced her to succumb to vampirism, life only got hard. Abby shrouded herself away finding comfort in putting down ruthless bloodsuckers who had no better job than to compel humans and make them into a tasty blood margarita. Abby didn’t want the same fate for you. Watching Ellie like a hawk; perhaps a stalker. It was all for a good cause. Ellie was awfully sloppy with how she carried the people she fed from. Sinking her teeth into an innocent being as she drank…and drank until their bodies fell cold and limp against the pavement. Ellie let out a sly moan in satisfaction as she watched the life get sucked out of her victims. The blood dripped down her chin, blood-drunk as she laughed in satisfaction as she licked the blood off of her fangs, and from around her lips being careful not to waste a single damn drop. 

Ever since you got in the picture, Ellie’s sloppiness got worse than normal, her drinking patterns have gotten sloppier, and parts of her brain toyed with her. As she strolled the streets at night looking for her midnight snack, sucking the salted liquid through her fangs with her luscious eyes closed, fluttering against the tip of the apple to her cheeks. Ellie saw you. When her eyes closed she pretended that they were you, hell she would never actually do this to you but she couldn’t get your toxic scent out of her mind. Moaning into the neck that she feeds whispering your name as her fangs dig in deeper and suddenly she loses all control, killing the being in the process. Ellie was deeply flawed; allowing a human to get in between the priorities of her stone-cold heart, but whatever she wanted she was certain she would have. 

“I think you have to invite me in first, it’s impolite for me to walk into your wonderful home without permission” Abby confessed, lying straight through her teeth, she didn’t care what was right or wrong she just needed permission or else she wouldn’t be allowed in. 

Deja vu hit you, remembering how Ellie made the same statement the first time she came over to visit you apart from the museum. 

“You may come in”

Acerbus  Bitter, gloomy, and dark. 

Vampire. 

That was a word that was enough to make your stomach curl up into a million knots.

The cold ones. 

No one could have prepared you to put your girlfriend to rest. The person who you saw forever with, wanting to get married and have a couple of children too, was all nothing but a lie and impossible. It was so refreshing to you, like a kiss of air, and nature healing itself, but slowly your emotions and your joy turned into a rotting flower, decaying along with all of your emotions tinted black. Over the course of a few weeks, you’ve sharpened your knives and coated your doors in some kind of vampire repellent given to you by Abby. The blonde has taught you how to hunt and detect vampires, the power of the stake, and what unfinished business Abby had with taking down Ellie.

Ellie on the other hand, you haven’t seen in a few days. Maybe it was because you were distracted; the auburn girl turning to nothing but a whisper and rattle of the leaves, spiraling into another one of her disappearing acts. 

Now you stood at her very own tombstone, which seemed rather distasteful; bless you, but you were trespassing. Trailing behind Abby like a lost puppy as she took a hammer, drawing back her arm to slam onto the lock that was Ellie’s above-ground grave. Abby came up with a bright and elite plan on how to trap Ellie back at the museum, but the two of you couldn’t have done it without the weapon that knocked her into a stone coma for ages. No, it doesn’t kill her, but it would slow her down and freeze her until it was time for her to be brought back; which would be never. You thought it was beautiful, fresh marble and sleek black with roses surrounding the front entrance into her small 4x4 square, which the main entrance was blocked by a gate — with a hefty lock which you assumed was where Ellie’s casket had been placed. 

“The roses are fresh, I think it’s best if we hurry” Abby whispers, matching the tone of the wind that was spirling above the two of you.

Abby took her hands dragging them down at the lock which opened the gate to Ellie’s tomb. The inside was barely lit, with unlit candles surrounding Ellie’s coffin that had the lid wide open with chains dangling from it. Modern-day gothic– and eerie to the touch. As you took careful steps walking around it; it seemed almost impersonal. You wanted to cry and shrivel up, that the way you’d been living for 3 months was a lie, running your hands around the perimeter of her coffin as if you were looking down at a body inside. But there was nobody and you knew the worst would have to come for Ellie to soon return to her rightful place. Abby however got right to work, brushing past you to tap every corner of the brick, reaching for Ellie’s casket, and digging through the built-in cushions. Abby grunts until she stops when her fingers prick a sharp tool. 

“Ow!... I got it” Abby hissed as she pulled out a thick and sleek shiny silver dagger with Latin scriptures engraved into the handle and metal of the knife. Abby briefly wiped it against the leather, twirling it in her hand before taking a bag of mercury and dipping the tip of the knife into the material. All you could do is watch, stake in the back pocket of your jeans that was covered by your jacket. 

“So what now?” you pushed, putting a hand on your hip.

“We get the fuck ou—-”

Abby stopped talking briefly pulling you into a shadow, blocked by a pillar making you go unnoticed.

“What are you—” 

Abby shushed you, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth as you now heard what Abby was hearing. Strong, sloppy footsteps, walking into the tomb as the gate to the entranced creaked.

The stranger groaned before letting out a sniff into the air. 

“Y/n I know you’re here.” Ellie croaked, her voice slurring as she limped towards her own casket hovering over it with a loud creak as your body shook beneath Abby’s gentle touch. 

“The cats out of the bag babe, fuckin’... let’s just talk c’mon” Ellie pleaded as her boots squeaked against the floor as she was visibly pacing. 

You shook your head as Abby briefly turned your body around whispering to you.

It’s the only way. 

With that Abby pushed you out from the hiding spot making you let out a yelp as you stumbled onto the floor in front of Ellie. She looked demonic, unreal almost. Blood dripping down her chin spread against her chest, and her hair was a filthy mess. Her once-green eyes glowed a sweet red under the pale moonlight as she watched you crumble on the floor trying to stand up.

“There you are~” Ellie teased as she took a few steps towards you making you crawl back.

“Thought we were gonna have to play hide and seek glad you’re so smart” Ellie taunted as she turned around kicking over a few candles surrounding her casket. 

“What did you do?” You shouted, groaning as you used the nearby wall to push your weight up.

“Who did you kill?” 

Ellie laughed. You frowned; disgustedly watching as Ellie only laughed at your panicked state. She thought your fear was funny, she could smell it off of you. 

“Why? You scared?” Ellie jabbed tilting her head with a really? expression on her face. 

Ellie reached her arm out for you to take which you stared at as if she was infected, so she took it back rolling her eyes. Ellie slid off her leather jacket and threw it onto the floor at your feet giving you a perfect view of her spaghetti-strapped cami and the tattoo on her arm.

“I think of you when I feed you know…as my teeth sink down into someone so innocent, like a deer…”Ellie began as she walked towards you slowly making you walk backward moving away.

“Get away from me” you gritted taking the stake out from your back pocket and crossing it over your front pointing side up.

“Ooh~” Ellie teased as she walked even closer until the stake was lined up with her heart. “What are you gonna do, kill me?” Ellie whined giving you a false pout similar to when you first met her in the museum and she stole the book.

“Not even a kiss goodbye?” Ellie taunted, as her body hovered over yours pressing deepening to the stake that was carving into her shoulder.

“Only you could hurt me like this, god what are you doing?” Ellie whispered, with that the waterworks came through as you started to cry, sobbing viciously letting out cries of “get away” as she was in front of you.

“Shh…Shh…Shh” Elie started grabbing at your arms with a firm hold from the base of your wrist gripping tightly. “Don’t cry” Ellie comforted you as she kept one arm around yours holding the dagger and another one up at your temple to which she leaned in giving you a kiss on the cheek staining your cheek with blood. Not her blood or your own but someone else, making you cry even more.

“I don’t- I can’t…we’re over Ellie” You cried out, sniffling in between sobs as your head dropped in defeat. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you. . . I’m sorry for what I did. . .I can’t control it, you know that right?” Ellie took a large gulp as she backed away from you shaking out her hands. Ellie was suddenly getting nervous, panicking at the way you were crying.  “I just get these urges, I only feed when I want to feed off you so I don’t hurt you. Babe, please listen to me”

“I have to kill you.” You dropped the bomb as Ellie’s sudden panicked state turned defense; she was getting angry and hostile. “I let you into my home…I let you kiss me, I let you fuck me and you didn’t think once to tell me who you really were”

“How is that fair?”

Ellie was numb, staring at you; her lover with a deadpanned expression on her face, deprived of any emotion, she was being straightforward “If you are gonna kill me don’t use that it’s not gonna work” Ellie spat, backing away as she walked over to her coffin staring down at the white cushioning inside. Finally wiping her chin with the back of her hand. 

“You’re gonna let me kill you?” you inquired, lowering the dagger by your waist as you watched Ellie watch over her own coffin.

“Only you. Because I know eventually you’ll miss me and take it out and set me free.”

“You don’t know that” you shook your head.

“But I do, I always do” Ellie took the initiative to reach into the coffin similar to how Abby did when the two of you first entered the tomb, patting the bedding as her eyes scrunched up in confusion as she looked away from you.

“Wait where is it”

You knew what she was looking for.

“Y/n what did you do with the dagger that was in this coffin…god what is that smell who is in here with you” Ellie was growing pissed off; anger nagging at her as she was looking control again, fangs poking out on instinct as she grew hostile within the room.

“It’s just me…” 

Ellie shook her head closing the coffin. “No someone else is here I can feel them” 

“Ellie…it’s just me” you whispered, trying to convince her as best as you possibly good. There was no way she would buy it, but you could lie your ass off and hope she wouldn’t sniff out the hound. 

“You can’t kill me with that, I say you just go for it and let whoever took the main piece finish me off” 

“Ellie I can’t—”

“I love you!”

You froze, you were her lifeline her weakness. The tether that kept her together as your soul was indefinitely embedded in her own. I love you, so sentimental and meaningful you didn’t wanna use it lightly and in this moment you knew she wasn’t using it against you. 

“Hey…shhh don’t cry, I love you” 

You had no time to prepare, lost in her lustful green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of you. As Abby snuck behind her, stabbing Ellie in the back making the both of you let out a gasp. Ellie looked down to her chest seeing the dagger poking through the other side of her body. Black blood pooled out and meshed with her black camisole. Ellie tilted her head to look at you, who had your arms steady around her shoulders so she wouldn’t tip over. Your Ellie gave you a faint smile. Your fear-stricken face, eyes wide as you looked at Abby who paced around Ellie to see if the dagger even worked. 

“H-have…fun”

“What?” you jabbed, face scrunching up in confusion. Ellie didn’t look afraid to die, hell she knew you would need her. Her words slurred as she was slowly succumbing to an endless slumber. 

“Have fun, my blood is….blood ‘n your veins…I’ve put…I put my blood in your tea. Good luck being a vampire baby fangs”

Baby fangs. 

Abby shouted NO! Behind you, but it was far too late. Ellie took out her hidden arm revealing a similar dagger to her very own; raising her arm up reflexively to jab it into your own neck as your blood started to pool out. No, it wasn’t going to kill you permanently. However, it would trigger a death into human you and allow you to become what Ellie was. What you tried so hard not to be. 

A bloodthirsty vengeful vampire. 

You panicked at your slow-beating heart; transcending you into a state of permanent drowsiness and immortality. Beats moving slower and slower as if your heart was put in a freezer locker and your body was chilling over. There was nothing you could do, it was too late. Tears pricked your eyes as a salty clear tear dripped down your face as you felt yourself lose consciousness collapsing on top of your already stoning lover. She betrayed you, the sneaky sly fox was ahead of you. A wolf in sheep’s clothing 

“I told you I loved you.”

© cowgirlcherrie

[meadow-roses]

okay kinda random and not really based on the books at all but quick headcanon dump about Jupiter and Lady Glen

Imagine, the new king has recently ascended to the throne. There's a good deal of unrest going on due to the wars within and around the borders. Natalia has not become a fully unified nation yet, despite all the work Walter Good did during his reign. One of the independent warrens see this as their chance to take control. Under the pretense of submitting to the Natalian monarchy, they send an assassin playing the part of ambassador to infiltrate the court, set the stage for a coup, and do away with this upstart-king. The problem is, in order for her to pull this off, she has to become a trusted member of the young king's inner circle. Despite her rigorous childhood training (or maybe because of it) Glen is not immune to the power of friendship, and eventually finds herself in a difficult situation. She can't go back to her old life without completing the mission, and at this point she doesn't want to go back. She's made a place for herself here in the Natalian court, has actually become a member of the friend group, and has fallen in love with the king (however unfortunately irrational that is 😔) She doesn't want to continue living this double life, but if she told them the truth would they believe that she'd truly changed sides? Treason is... a very serious offence that Jupiter as king can't just ignore.

When the warren Glen is from realizes the single assassin is not being successful, the malcontents attempt a more direct attack, and Glen ends up revealing her cool skills to defend the king and prove her loyalty.

[matchavellichor]

okay huge fan of your dark!seb but hear me out…… dark!ominis

A.N: I absolutely adore dark!ominis omfg—I have like five diff dark omi drabbles in my google docs that i've abandoned bc i feel like no matter how i write it, it seems too out of character for him, then i end up hating it LOL. This isn't as bad as my dark!seb but here's Ominis doing some.....uhhhh questionable things to MC under Imperius.

Just This Once

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Angst - 3.1k words - ao3

Tags: !!Non-Con!!, Pining, Obsession, Inappropriate Use of Imperius, Unconsensual Kissing/Touching, Masturbation, Omi Being a Lil Pervball

Summary: Ominis' infatuation leads him to break some of the principles he's held dear to him for the better part of his life.

Part 2, Part 3 (づ￣ ³￣)づ

The fireplace in the Slytherin common room has long gone out for the night, only a few crackling embers to fill the silence. Moonlight seeps in from the windows, through the murky waters of the Black Lake, casting the room in a palid, green hue. 

Despite the hour, he knows he’ll find her there. 

He wonders if it’s one of the rare nights where she’s asleep by the time he arrives, curled into herself on one of the armchairs with her book forgotten on her lap. 

One of the rare evenings where he can afford himself a bit less self-control. Indulge in the silkiness of her skin, trace his fingers over her features until the point she inevitably stirs, and he’s forced to retract himself as if he’d never touched her. 

It doesn’t matter if it is. Tonight, he’ll touch her the way he wants to, either way.

His skin prickles with warring emotions as he makes his way soundlessly down the steps of the dormitories. Shame, guilt, disgust—overwhelming anticipation.

The dizzying feeling of want overshadows them all.

An ugly, marred tug of obsession claws its way under his skin like a parasite. He can’t escape it, can’t make it stop—hasn't been able to for a while now.

He’s grown accustomed to it. Grown used to the way his nerves burn when he touches her, the way his lungs scream for oxygen when he catches her scent.

He always wants, yet he never gets, and he’s so, so tired of wanting.

Just this once. 

The reminder eases through him like a breeze, quelling the incessant pounding of his heart in his ears, the thin sheen of sweat settling itself over his skin.

His hand trembles when it dips into the pocket of his robes as he approaches the familiar set of lounges in front of the fireplace. He feels for his wand and tightens his hand around it, the wood biting into his skin, a sensation almost comforting in nature.

Just this once.

“Was wondering when you’d show,” her voice is warm and sleep-rough, a hazy melody that proves just as useful in easing his nerves. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, weighted with attrition for something he has yet to do.

She waits for him to sit down beside her, but instead he stays in place, hovering over the side of the couch.

He clears his throat, nerves stiffening his voice. “Do you think we could read in the Undercroft tonight?”

She looks at him perplexed, until her lips curl into a smile.

“Since when did you become such a rule breaker? Sebastian finally rubbing off on you?” She humors, stretching her sore limbs.

“I’d just prefer it. Change of…scenery.”

She snorts. “Change of scenery, huh?”

He nods sheepishly, cheeks burning. Change of scenery? Really, Ominis?

He can feel her staring at him, contemplating. He’s half-convinced she can hear the way his heart is nearly beating out of his chest.

“Please,” he adds for good measure.

His fingers find his wand again, tucked surreptitiously behind layers of fabric. He supposes he could cast it here, even if that isn’t part of the plan. The thought makes anxiety trickle up his skin. He doesn’t want to stray from the plan.

When she rises from her seat with an acquiescent sigh, his entire body sinks with relief.

“Alright, fine, let’s go…but we’ll have to be quiet.” 

The walk to the Undercroft is spent in the silence of disillusionment spells and muffling charms. Inside the darkened cellar, with only the soft sound of her humming as she settles onto one of the old chaises, a flurry of second-thoughts numb his brain in white static. 

Disgust settles itself like a boulder in his gut, the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat as he takes a seat beside her, as he considers over and over again what he’s about to do. 

He can feel her thigh press against his when she shifts in her seat. It’s strangely grounding. He feels the taste rescind.

She’s so incredibly warm, so terribly close, that it buries any trepidations he holds deep into an untouchable part of himself, until he can think of nothing but the prospect of more of her skin on his, until desire overshadows any inkling of guilt he might possess.

The urge to touch, and taste, and caress, subjugates the contrite voice in his head that repeats a litany of you promised, you promised, you promised.

His nausea blends into something else as he quietly slips his wand from his pocket, and any vows he’s made to himself about never doing what he’s about to do, dissolves into inexistence as the spell passes through his lips in a whisper.

“Imperio.” 

The incantation takes effect with such fluidity, with such little effort, that in that moment, despite all his years of fervent resistance, he has never felt more like a Gaunt.

He resists the urge to double over and be sick on the flagstone floor. 

He can barely hear the sound of the book in her hands falling to the floor, nor his own wand slipping from his fingers with a dull clatter. The ringing in his ears is far too loud to allow it.

His core buzzes with the thrum of dark magic that washes over him, a mordant reminder of what exactly he’s done, one that he can feel impress itself on his very soul. He takes a fortifying breath.

Just this once.

“Turn to me.” 

The command works over her immediately, and though he can’t see her, he can hear her shift in her seat to face him. He’s never been more grateful for his blindness than in that moment, that he can’t see the glazed-over appearance of her eyes, her vacant stare. He’s certain it would break him.

He shifts forward himself, and when he touches her for the first time with trembling hands, the incessant ringing in his ears ceases. The drove of self-reprehension comes to a halt, replaced by something starved, replaced by the instinct to take.

He drags his fingers unsteadily over the ridge of her cheekbone, traces the contours of her brows, down the bridge of her nose, the same way he’s done before only briefly in her sleep, though this time with more unabashed exploration.

The thrill of not having to be careful awakens something in him. He wants to commit every millimeter to memory.

His thumb brushes over the gentle arch of her cupid’s bow, then over the plush pillow that is her bottom lip. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath until his lungs burn for oxygen. His hand takes hold of her jaw and he dips forward, so that his first inhale is made up of nothing but her, his nose pressed to the soft hair at her temple. 

He tilts his head and lets his lips land on the smooth plane of her cheek. Her skin is warm and silky, just as he remembered from the brief bits of contact he’s allowed himself in the past. He lets out a contented sigh. 

Slowly, patiently, he works himself up to his destination, planting tender kisses along her face, reveling in every little sensation, until he reaches the corner of her mouth.

Her mouth.

He’s almost convinced he’s dreaming. 

He takes a shuddering breath and connects their lips the way he’s wanted to for an agonizingly long time.

If he’s ever known softness before, it’s incomparable to what he receives from her lips, from her face cupped in his hands.

He’s filled with the insatiable desire to know more, to drown in it, to suffocate on the feeling of her against him. 

His tongue brushes over her bottom lip, tentative and a bit too cautious. He’s not exactly sure how to kiss her, but he notes rather morbidly that she won’t mind either way. It’s not like she’ll remember.

He tries again, experimenting, prodding at her lips softly at first, but she doesn’t part for him the way he expects her to, doesn’t grant him entrance. It’s… not right.

His brain blares with alarms in deafening repetition that it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

She’s stiff against his lips, frigid and unmoving. It’s not how it should be. It’s not how he wants it to be. It’s askew and breaks him out of his fantasy and it makes him angry. 

Makes his fingers dig too harshly into her skin, makes him crowd her against the armrest of the lounge and press his mouth to her more forcefully, as if he can brutalize the compliance out of her. 

A whimper escapes her, a brief breach in her trance-like state, and he’s snapped out of his overwhelming frustration. He breaks the kiss and pants against her skin, the reminder of the power he has over her surging back. 

“Kiss me.”

Relief oozes into him like the trickle of a downpouring stream, cooling his blood and letting him melt into the feeling of her lips finally moving against his. His touch retreats back to tenderness. 

There’s a clumsy sort of uncertainty in the way his mouth moves against hers, an unpracticed mess of tongue and teeth. He doesn’t mind, doesn’t let himself dwell on the chagrin that is his first kiss.

It’s all he’s ever wanted with her. She tastes sweet on his tongue, the culmination of all his desires being fulfilled, and yet still, somehow, it’s not enough.

Even as he kisses her deeply, tenderly, until his lips feel raw and kiss-bruised, and there’s a delicious soreness in his jaw — he can’t shake that little, driving pain in his chest of want. 

No, not of want. Of need. 

There’s a part of him that he doesn’t quite understand, a part of him that aches for more without being conscious of just what more is. 

He’s aware of it, though. He feels it in the tension pulling just below his navel, the heat pooling in his blood. He recognizes it in the depraved instinct to slip his hands up her blouse, to hike up her skirt, and— and—

He contemplates straying from the plan for the second time that night.

All he wanted was to kiss her, just this once, just this once— but as he tips her back onto the cushions, as he hovers over her with his lips never leaving hers, he realizes that isn’t true.

He lets himself sink against her. Her body molds with his, presses against his own, plush and warm and indescribably perfect. He pins her down with his weight—even if he’s aware he doesn’t have to, he finds some sick sense of security in knowing she can’t escape.

He wants more.

He slots himself between her legs and tugs one of her thighs around his waist. It’s almost too much, his breathing scattered and uneven. 

He wants more.

Even if he isn’t sure what more entails, he possesses some idea as his hips begin to rut against hers of their own accord. The whimper he lets out makes him burn with shame.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck to hide his mortification. He inhales, until the dizzying scent of her perfume numbs his brain.

He’s subtly aware of the fact he’s grinding right against her knickers, her skirt bunched up haphazardly at her hips to accommodate him between her legs. He tries not to think about it.

His thoughts feel hazy as he contemplates the fact that only a thin piece of cotton separates her cunt from rubbing right against the front of his trousers. It would be so easy to—

He can’t.

He forces himself to keep his hands above her waist, far from temptation. He doesn’t force them not to wander, though.

Just this once, he repeats, as his fingers hover over the front placket of her blouse. He muffles his breathing with his lips pressed to her throat.

He trails his hand up to her collar and unclasps the first button with trembling fingers. He tries not to think about it, either.

He concentrates on how she tastes when he dips his tongue out to lick a stripe just under her jaw, and for a moment he doesn’t care how lewd it is, doesn’t care how utterly debased he’s acting.

Her breath hitches, just the subtlest change in pitch, but it’s enough for him to pretend that she wants this. That she wants him.

Little, brass buttons clatter to the stone floor of the Undercroft in quiet clinks, byproduct of his impatience, of his self-restraint slipping from his fingers in the hasty manner he undresses her. 

The same hasty manner he fumbles with his belt—before he can think too long about what he’s about to do—until he’s gripping his weeping cock and biting down on his lip to stop the shameful noises threatening to escape his throat.

He palms himself shakily, remorse adling his unsteady movements, while he tries to work the courage to actually touch her. It isn’t long before his hand is slick with his arousal, and the skin of her neck is damp with his heavy breathing.

His hand hovers over the bare skin of her midriff, fingers twitching with the desire to sink them into her soft flesh, to trace over her curves and memorize the contours he’s only felt in daydreams. 

His voice is raw when he commands her, riddled with shame. “Ask—ask me to touch you.”

She obeys in a whisper. “Please, touch me.” 

It’s wrong, it’s all wrong, it’s not—

“Ask me to touch you and say my name.” 

“Touch me,” she breathes, and he can feel the vibration of her voice where his mouth is still latched onto the base of her throat. “Please, Ominis.”

There.

His name on her lips strikes his nerves on fire, lights the very blood in his veins alight. He caves.

Her skin is warm under his fingertips. He can feel her heartbeat where he presses his palm to her sternum, a frantic pounding— undoubtedly a reflection of her subconscious beneath the influence of the spell.

He doesn’t allow himself to feel guilty, he can’t. Not now. 

Instead, he indulges. Pushes the sheer material of her chemise the rest of the way up, until it’s over her chest, and he can feel.

Her nipples pebble as they come in contact with the cool air of the Undercroft and he runs his hand over the stiffened bud, rolls it between his thumb and index. 

She’s overwhelmingly soft. It disgusts him how badly he wants to defile her for it. 

He notes wryly how revoltingly weak he is, if all it took was some poorly-placed obsession for him to do away with every last principle he’s spent the better part of his life cultivating. How easily an Unforgivable spilled from his lips at the prospect of feeling hers.

He’ll scrub his skin raw afterwards in the shower in a desperate attempt to forget all of this, he promises himself. He won’t do this again, he can’t—

Just this once.

His head sinks to her chest and he murmurs against her skin, “Again— Say, say it again.”

“Please, Ominis.”

He sighs in blissful relief. “Yes.”

He counts the rows of her sternum with a drag of his tongue. Her chest is already sticky with his saliva when he takes hold of his cock again, the dripping tip sullying her untouched skin.

His hips rut into his own hand and the Undercroft fills with the sounds of his quiet grunts. He squeezes his eyes shut and imagines it’s her he’s thrusting into as he fucks his fist, his other hand groping blindly, fondling and squeezing her supple flesh until he’s sure he’s left marks in his carelessness.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, because he likes to pretend it’s real. “So–so good, angel.”

She lets out the softest whimper, and it’s enough to make his jaw fall slack, a pleasured groan escaping his parted lips. 

He presses his forehead to hers. “I love you. I love you so much. Tell me— tell me you love me. Please say it.”

“I love you.” 

She obeys too fast, her voice too vacant. It’s unnatural. He doesn’t care. Those three little words are enough to wrench a strangled sort of sound out of his chest.

“Again,” he begs, voice hoarse, and he’s only distantly aware of the wet tracks running down his cheeks. His thrusts are sloppy and frantic, so close to his undoing. “Say my name.” 

“I love you, Ominis.”

“Fuck,” his voice cracks, his head dropping to her shoulder.

He’s pushed over the edge with a sob, painting her stomach and chest in ribbons of milky white. An endless litany of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry pours from his lips as he shudders through his climax.

Shame sears through him like fiendfyre and he moans his forgiveness on a cry against her lips, kisses her tenderly as if it’s an act of retribution.

His hand finds her stomach, his palm rubbing into the incriminating mess of his seed on her skin, and the satisfaction he feels with it only serves to amplify his self-disgust. 

He kneads the sticky flesh beneath his fingertips, as if he can make it so that even after the scourgify, some part of him will be there, a memory only he’s aware of. He doesn’t want to let her go, he can’t— he—

He does so anyway. He forces himself off of her on unsteady legs and tucks himself into his trousers. 

He cleans her with all the care in the world, as if his tenderness will somehow make up for how crudely he’s violated her trust tonight.

Everytime his hand brushes over her skin as he redresses her, he repeats to himself that it was just this once. Brands it into his brain, lets that contrite voice repeat it over and over again until he might go mad. 

He takes her back to the common room and sets her down gently into that same armchair she was waiting for him in at the beginning of the night. Brushes a lingering kiss to her forehead that stretches for a moment too long.

He mutters a reluctant finite incantatem under his breath, pairs it with a heavy sleeping spell, and retreats to his own dorm before he can fall to temptation again. 

Only then, behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster, skin still prickling with the memory of every way he’d touched her, is he made certain of something he’s been trying desperately to deny all evening.

This was the first time, but it certainly won’t be the last.

[sailforvalinor]

Trusted mutuals and friends, I put a question to you: my youngest brother (thirteen years old) is desperately looking for some books to read—do y’all have any recs? A few criteria: a few of his favorite series recently have been Keeper of the Lost Cities, The Unwanteds, and The Green Ember. He’s also pretty sensitive to swearing, but not so much to violence.