#and i am just so fucking touched and honored that someone spent the time to bring my fic to life

[mortimerlatrice]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: KinnPorsche: The Series (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Porsche Pachara Kittisawat/Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun, Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham/Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun Characters: Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun, Porsche Pachara Kittisawat, Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakun, Kim Khimhant Theerapanyakun, Macau Theerapanyakun, Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat, Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham, Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun Additional Tags: Family Feels, Light Angst, Jealous Kinn, Character Study, Porsche is Kinn’s Sunlight, Found Family, Except It’s Really More Figuring Out the Family We Have, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes Summary:

Author's Summary: After removing themselves from Korn's influence, the Theerapanyakun and Kittasawat family share a meal and Kinn considers what it means to him.

[blondehya]

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ 𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mizu x fem!reader

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: some of you may have seen that i posted the request by accident and soo sorry 😭 after this post i'll open my box again and you can send things again!

you thought you were invisible, just one among so many others. but a pair of blue eyes always watched you from afar. you had no idea you could be the pedestal in someone's head.

it was art week and your class was planning to do groups. mizu was lucky to stay in the same as you.

“ y’all can leave all the modeling to me, i really like it. it's because of my favorite series! the stylist always says on the opening: scissors are empty blades...

if used without a purpose... ” mizu completed.

it wasn't the intention, but she had already watched this series so many times because of you that it came out automatically! her nose, which was red from the cold, joined the rest of her face. the smile that appeared at the corner of his mouth would never be forgotten by her.

“ mizu, what the hell?! ” you chuckle, clearly smiling to her figure. “ i feel honored to know that i am no longer alone! ”

you extend your hand for a high five. mizu never thought she would feel your touch someday. that girl was in heavens.

you did the job without any worries, your skills surprised many. but mizu was already used to it.

“ don't you want to come by my house? i'm loving the chat, and you said you like dogs, right? you have to meet mine! ”

your open way always managed to get mizu surprised. what if she was a pervert with second intentions?!

she accepts without blinking. you two arrive in the main room as you lock the doors. mizu was asking about the dog.

“ how do you know where his food and house are? i never said anything. ”

fuck.

“ aha, just instinct… ”

she stops where she is, embarrassed to look back. hands begin to pass over mizu’s body slowly.

“ poor little stalker… you're so perverted, aren't you? spent so much time looking down at me that never noticed me looking back… ”

___________

sorry i don’t know

how to continue :”D

[misaverawrites]

In the Heat of Your Electric Touch

((johnny silverhand x reader))

summary: you're the manager of SAMURAI, johnny talks to you about changing his image after some reflection since Alt died, you decide that he can do what’s best for him… and you might be it.

tags: no arasaka tower bombing, johnny is a good person, johnny has a body, rockerboy johnny silverhand, samurai stays together, fluff, alt’s death (mentioned), cursing, fluff, forehead kisses, NO PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS

a/n: uhhhh, your honor, i am a 20 year old silly goose with a love for this man.

You stare out over the crowd from backstage, with wide smiles, music amplified by their singing as the bass vibrates through your teeth. You run a hand through your hair, just for a second, pushing away a rogue strand. You take a look at your phone, then back at the stage, where you find Johnny, looking at you with a wide and almost uncharacteristic grin, only to flash it back at the crowd, brandishing horns on his hand, the loud cheers from the crowd egging him on, bringing a small, but not, unwelcome smile to your face. Johnny loved what he did, no one could deny that, even if it seemed he only did it to further his own agenda at times. You knew better though, you and Johnny had spent too much time together on this tour for you to think too far against him.

“Alright, and we want to dedicate this encore to every single one of you!” You hear Kerry say from the stage, the wild roar from the crowd amplifying itself, you tend to watch the crowd more than anything during these shows, it was therapeutic, these people were the lifeblood of bands similar to SAMURAI , and you intended to keep them happy. As SAMURAI closes out their set, as well as Henry’s tab, some of the people start their slow, exhausted post-concert shuffle back out onto the streets of Night City, bags of SAMURAI merchandise in hand, you begin your clean-up, helping stage-hands move everything back onto the van.

“Hey, take a load off, they’ve got it.” You hear Johnny, and you shake your head. “Shouldn’t you be getting under the skirt of some barely-legal SAMURAI fangirl?” You joke and he rolls his eyes, “Fuck off,” he justifies himself, playfully all the same, until his tone gets a bit more serious in nature, “Besides, thinkin’ that’s not all too much my scene anymore.” You laugh, almost dropping the set piece in your hands. “Alright, I’m gonna hear you out, but it sounds like you just started talkin’ like one of those Maelstrom goons after they’ve had one too many implantations, what do you mean ?”

Johnny scoffs and takes the set piece from you, setting it down as he sits you down on the stage, the lingering fans vie successfully for Kerry’s attention, less so successfully for Johnny’s, his attention is all on you.

“I’m just… Fuckin’ sick of it, since Alt, since fuckin’ Arasaka, I don’t wanna ramble in those streets to a God who ain’t listenin’. Y’know?” You sigh and he puts his hand on top of yours, “I just want somethin’... Someone , even who makes me not want to shove an iron in my fuckin’ mouth.” You look at him, just for a second, as if he’s grown two heads, until you realize, from the way he’s looking at you, for once in his life, he’s serious . Your eyes widen a bit, does he mean you ? “It’s not your scene,” You say simply, it’s almost matter-of-fact in delivery.

“What if I wanted it to be?” He asks, that genuine tone of voice still there, he’s still Johnny, he knows what he wants, and he’s pushing for it. Not too hard, lest he drive you away, which is a change all in itself. “I’m the band’s manager, Johnny.” He rolls his eyes a bit, “You’ve been around Corpos a bit too long, babe,” You can’t help but love the way it sounds coming off his tongue, when it’s aimed towards you and not at another girl, “You know the fans don’t care, hell, they live for this stupid drama.” You can’t deny that. Your miles-long social media inbox, brimming with fans begging for any bit of gossip, said that all on its own. You smile a bit, “I mean, if you’re saying it could be your scene, then who am I to fight that, Johnny?” He grins, it’s a big, goofy grin unlike you’d ever seen before from him, “Shit, if you’re willing to allow it, then I guess I’d better not fuck it up.” You and him pause for a moment, not realizing how close the two of you are to one another, bodies pressed tightly against one another, you feel his eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until you, for once decide, fuck it . You pull Johnny in and kiss him, he’s warm, warmer than you’d expected whenever you thought about this, his hands meet your elbows awkwardly, he doesn’t know what to do here, and neither do you, really. His lips are chapped against yours and he tastes of cigarettes and tequila, a dangerously addictive combination that makes you want him more and more. You feel his hand suddenly brush against your hair and support the underside of your mouth, giving him more access to your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and everything else is simply null and void, besides him and you.

Until you hear the familiar sound of Kerry, clearing his throat, “Hey, both of you!” He calls, actually subtle for him, as the two of you pull away awkwardly, as though the two of you are teenagers, trying to act cool after being caught getting hot and heavy in a dark movie theater. “We’ve gotta go, bar wants us out, but you two can keep going on the tour bus, cool?” Your skin flushes and you avoid direct eye contact with Kerry, as Johnny chuckles awkwardly, despite himself, trying to keep any sense of his usually un-poised yet still collected poise. You nod, turning to look back at Johnny, who does the same to you, as you both share a small laugh with one another, you playfully push him without any real force, as he wraps his ‘ganic arm around you, kissing your forehead softly as the two of you get onto the tour bus together.

[quillkiller]

do you think you could...share more of your thoughts about regpeter.... they're in my mind constently...

i was going to answer this and then my fucking rat died…….. but in honor or my babiest of boys i will talk about another rat (peter) and his boyfriend <3

so. i’ve been thinking a lot about how they would get together….. and ive been thinking a lot about unrequited jegulus. so i think peter has had a crush on regulus for a very long time but a very managable one. he thinks reg is pretty and lovely and likes looking at him a lot but he hasn’t ever felt the need to like make a move. my peter has the ultimate autism swag and i think he does hook ups rather than relationships because he’s never really met anyone or considered trying to add someone into his daily routine. hes very comfortable on his own i think!!!! likes his independance and hasn’t ever felt the urge to date someone seriously. he fucks a lot tho i think like hes definitely a dating app person sending the ’u up?’ texts when he’s high

anyway. james starts talking a lot about regulus at some point. that hes started noticing him more and what not and now peters bothered. hes never really been that bothered when reg has been seeing someone except for like mild jealousy and a more sour mood than usual when he has to be around reg and whoever hes dating. but now hes bothered because like james is his friend…. and no one ever says no to james.. pete doesnt think hes ever met someone who doesn’t instantly want him. and so ofc reg would want james. james is james. and that would mean seeing more of regulus if he would be james’ boyfriend . thats when the very serious jealousy starts to settle in. peters always in a foul mood and james is always flirting with regulus now

i havent really gotten to how they actually end up together. i think they haven’t spent a lot of one on one together before but now james starts inviting him to parties or whatever. so maybe they end up somewhere smoking a joint together and spend the entire time just. talking . sitting close together with their shoulders touching and talking in soft voices

so maybe reg starts going to the parties as a way to see peter. i dont think reg is used to calm. and peters very calm. hes a quiet guy but its never really awkward. its just nice ?? reg loves being invited into peters solitude and space. he apologizes profusely for never shutting up and for maybe bothering peter but peter is amused and smitten and realising that letting someone in isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. maybe its not bad at all !!! maybe its actually sort of lovely listening to regs voice while smoking

and thats where i am ????? i think ?? also this is a university au <3

im also a little obsessed with demanding stubborn goth twink reg and his dealer who lets him get away with a lot more than is probably customary in dealer/buyer relationships ahdjdkakf. soft swag cooler than he understands peter and reg who’s a chattering mess whenever they meet up because he wants to Impress Him

[enfieldtennisacademy]

i have spent the last two weeks in my childhood bedroom where i was molested and i have grown so manic depressive that i seriously believe i could peel my skin off like a boiled apple. "honor leave ur room go do something" okaaaay i will and then i immediately face the bridge troll of this overblown doublewide trailer... the patron saint of hebephilia who wants to be my bestttt frieeendddd even though ive made it so fucking clear i want nothing to do with him. i am truthfully waiting for him to die. make it past that hurtle and then get in my car with my suspended license and then drive around aimlessly because i do not know one person in this town. sometimes i get a canned water or melatonin from the store. and then i return home and get high or drink

got insanely fucked up a few days ago to escape the fucking evil that plagues this house and my walls but the whole time my mind just tallied up every single horrible thing that's happened in my life. i was so scared shaking and shit but my brain couldn't stop. it was like a powerpoint presentation and each slide was increasingly more intense and i cant even remember it now as i sit here to ""blog"" about it. i think sometimes i daywalk as someone who is very normal but then i consider how upside down my entire life has been since i was a little blonde child. like how do i just push this aside and do normal things like spin classes and road trips and a 9 to 5 when the basis of my bones are made out of horrible freak show occurances that not even my brain can remember? how am i supposed to make dinner for my husband and kids one day when this is how my brain and body functions? ill be standing at the stove pondering every single time i was torn to shreds and then have to face some cute fat kids and try and separate their world from that one. like i dont even know if theres a book to help with that......

like im not shy about how fucking tortured i am. my friends know exactly who i am and what has made me into the strange erratic doll they know and love to kick. i dont know how many times i'm going to cry to the point im hyperventilating and vomiting while people stare at me like a horse with a broken leg. eventually i will grow tired of being a strange facet ppl need to avoid eye contact with. or worse......... a spectacle to gossip about for 2.0 seconds over white gay male brunch. i wear my heart on my sleeve, which can be VERY embarrassing sometimes, but my life isnt a secret. everyone knows ive been preyed on and touched on and beat down. but i think ppl are so afraid of it being "AWKWARD" that they avoid me. they dont want me to start crying or for there to be a lull in the conversation because they dont know what to say in response to my batshit. so they have normal lives and they go to spin class and road trips and 9 to 5s while i get way way worse waiting for someone to rescue me. (rescue me: Be a friend). (Be a friend = chill w me. Be forgiving with my neuroticisms. Hang out and be normal to someone who doesn't get a whole lot of that. You know.)

anyway.......... i am an inchworm away from a total religion-fueled meltdown and turning to the church because i feel so hopeless and i feel like they will coddle me like a powdered little baby. i will at the very least take a text from a school buddy or a walk around the block w someone who hasn't tried to kill me or get me to do it myself. but until then i will continue sprinting on the treadmill and scrolling gaga daily and being haunted by my past until its seriously too much to bare. im gonna jump off the spring breakers bridge fr

[everlastiingiimmortals]

✮ ━ top three favorite muses that you’ve played

Mun related symbols! Accepting!

Across my whole RP history? All 7 years? good lordt okay

In no particular order:

Magnet Man - Mega Man 3 (Megamix manga canon)

Mags is 1) my favorite Robot Master 2) a major comfort character of mine and 3) the canon character I've written the longest. I've spent a many good years developing him and fighting for him, and I can say with a lot of pride that I'm the longest lasting Magnet Man writer I've seen on Tumblr. Seven years!!! I'm currently taking a break from the fandom but I can feel my MM muses returning, so I'm very excited to pick things back up.

Moon Woman/Cosmic Moonfall - Mega Man/Mega Man X OC

My baby girl. Moon's been with me for 11 years now; I made her when I was 10 and she's lasted throughout my entire RP history, and long before then. I have countless AUs for her and have poured so much blood, sweat and tears into her, some of those being very literal sweat and tears (thankfully no blood yet!). She means the world to me, and nearly every fandom I've touched I've left a piece of her there. She's been through several rewrites and redesigns and I am finally, finally happy to say I've found a story for her main verse that I'm proud of, after 11 years of development and growing up alongside me. I can't wait to share her with you all through Yingyue and Meiyu!

Jing Yuan - Honkai Star Rail

Of course I have to include my current brainrot!! Fuck you for clocking me on the nose like that, firstly. That was so rude. "There's someone in the third world who's going to be your favorite, I'm not telling you who it is. You'll know immediately when you see them" like BRO?? THE AUDACITY and you were so correct, I love you so much. You know my taste so well aslkfjsdalfkhaflkhjafsd

Jing Yuan has so many traits that appeal to me so greatly, if I were to list them all we'd be here ALL day so I won't but just know I love him even more than I love Zhongli and that's saying SOMETHING bc you've BEEN there for my zl brainrot

Honorable mentions because you can't keep me at just 3!!!:

Quick Man - Mega Man 2 (Megamix manga canon)

So initially I picked Quick Man up out of spite, because someone I had a bad history with used to RP him and I went "I bet I could write him better." So I did. What I didn't expect was to actually end up liking him so much!! Quick's a very quiet character who doesn't talk, like, at all. He was actually very challenging for me to write at first because, as you know, I don't shut up. :D

But I've put a lot of time into his development, and I'm really happy with where he's at! I had no idea I'd have so much fun with him. His character even spawned two OCs, both of which are (sort of) on this blog: Quinn's two alts!

Miles Williams/Veturas - OC

I honest to god do not remember if I've shown you that first FC of his. I was so close to actually rping him on Tumblr on god DLAKGFJHADSLKFJHA. His FC is so funny I can't for the life of me remember his name but he comes from an idol manga/anime and there was a gacha game for it too. Absolutely hilarious

You and Jade are the two who know Miles best here, since it was in our server that he got the most development even if it wasn't where he started. He's my third oldest OC and honestly the one I've struggled the most with in terms of striking a balance I was proud of. It's... hard for me to drum up his muse now, thanks to [she-who-shall-not-be-named], and it's a little painful to try to write him, but thankfully Veturas has remained untouched. He's easier to bring out. Despite that, though, I do love Miles very dearly. I miss him a lot; he was my favorite OC for a very long time. I'd like to go back to that time some day, if I can.

Blues/Proto Man - Mega Man 3 (Megamix manga canon)

Blues was a character I picked up as homage to one of the very first people I met through RP (who I did manage to rekindle contact with!! after 5 years!!!! holy shit!!!!!!!!) because they were the person who'd introduced me to the manga written and drawn by Hitoshi Ariga, as well as the person who introduced me to my most favorite ship in the MM fandom. He's always been a favorite character of mine, but I wasn't expecting his muse to spiral out of control like it did. He's now the origin point for a number of OCs of mine, including one (1) special spooky Elder Dragon hybrid! The theme of people living longer than they should who've peeped the horrors and the evidence lies in their eyes being fucked up looking goes strong here.

Ehe. When ur eyes glow so bright they can be seen through ur shades <3 oopsie

[milo-is-rambling]

I see my fathers corpse when I close my eyes. Words I never thought would leave my mouth are now exiting. I am begging to some higher power I do not believe in to make this all stop. I am holding the knife to my chest to my hips to my throat. I do not split the skin. I stare at old scars, I tug at my scalp. I pick my cuticles until I cannot move without breaking fresh skin. Days pass faster and slower than ever before. My mother is doing better with her husbands death than I am doing with my fathers. I didn’t even like him when he was alive. He is burning a hole into my chest. This large ache I cannot fill. I need to find another angry horrible man to fit into this space. I fear I am taking the role myself. I am bitter I am lost I am cursing the gods I am driving myself off the bridge I am screaming until my throat is raw I am smiling telling my mother what to wear on her date and when she leaves I collapse in on myself like a dying star. I am sucking everything into my darkness and calling it love, calling it rebirth, calling it redemption. I am struggling and wearing it as a badge of honor. After you have survived a suicide attempt you can see yourself as a god among men. I cannot hold a job or someone’s hand. But I am alive. I am still breathing and that in itself is my religion. I cannot get myself to cry even if I wanted to but the second I open my mouth and speak of him i feel an itch at the back of my throat my chin is wiggling I am holding back the tears as they threaten to pour over. I am all anger and sadness. We used to say my father only had one emotion and it was anger I am his little girl I am his disappointment I was nothing and he loved me despite despite despite. He never liked my brother after he went to college I feared that if I ever went away and came back he would hate me too. I never left. Dropped out of high school and spent most days talking to him. I saw through this emotional mask. I sat in the back of the car last January while my parents smoked and talked. My father talked about his father. My mother reminded him that we are no longer children. I sat in silence. I felt I could’ve been strapped into a car seat, pitifully small. My mother passed me the joint as my father tears up. She didn’t notice. He put all this effort into being likeable when we were young and once we formed our own personalities and weren’t parroting him he decided he didn’t care anymore.

Am I the same way? Am I growing away from my friends or are they no longer playing into my ego and I’m just as miserable as my father. I need to catch my breath. I need to remind myself what is real. I need to forget where we keep the knives. I need to forget where he kept the knives. I need to forget that he held the knife out to me and was proud when I took it in my hand. He wanted me to be angry. He trained me like a fucking dog. Every peer a competition every teacher a source of praise every stranger a friend every family member an enemy. His go to advice was “beat them up” I carried it with me through high school. I carried this violence in my chest that my parents did not know what to do with. My brother and I threatened each other like it was a sport. I always got the last word. Shocked silence at the dinner table. Storming away. Slamming doors. I was the violent presence in my house it was never my father he passed the torch when I was so young that I forgot if it even burned me. I still have the scars to prove that it did. All this violence. Getting scolded when I projected and so I put it all inside. I hacked away at my skin in the dark. Those were the quiet years. Family dinners. Long silences. Friends lost touch. Strangers calling me wonderful things. Strangers years older than me. Men with the same anger in their hearts as me. As my father. Men who talked about fights they got into and how sexy my voice was. I was twelve. I felt wanted for the first time in my whole life. My parents found the messages. Didn’t look me in the eye for two years. I knew what they thought of me. Dirty foul slut who was asking for it. And I was in a way. Asking for power asking for praise asking for anyone to be more broken than me. Is this the price of girlhood? Am I meant to be full of rage? I am still that child watching my mother read through my phone in horror. Listening to her cry through the walls. She asks what she did wrong she asks what she ever did to make me do something like this. The anger in me was something that spread like a disease. My first real girlfriend once got so mad that she smashed her phone with a brick. I had this sick joy in my chest knowing there was someone like me. Is it really sickness when there’s two of us? Partners in crime is still just two criminals. We tore each other apart and left no identifiable evidence. My mother tells me years later that my first girlfriend was crazy. I tell her about the way I treated her. The way I drove her to behave that way. The way I didn’t know what I was doing and so I tore her apart with my teeth. I still have scars on me from the guilt. I use it as an excuse to ignore the way I treated her. I hurt myself because she hurt me. Well who threatened who? Who said they were going to kill themselves because of the way you treated them? Because you were leaving them? I remember my shaky hands calling her mother and telling her to call out of work that night because I was afraid she would do something horrible. That guilt follows me everywhere. Being angry feels like getting in touch with who I was then. Who I hurt and how I hurt myself.

I grew up and lost more friends. Grew more and thought I finally had it figured out. Lost friends again. Each loss felt like a blow to the chest. I wanted so badly to be mad at them. Be mad at anyone but myself. I know I am to blame for the way others react to me. I do not hurt myself but I am constantly thinking about it. Some days I shower just a bit too hot and think about your touch. Some days it’s enough just to think of him. Some days I have to hold the knife in my hands and put it back down again to truly hurt myself. It hurts more to deny myself the blood than it ever did to create these scars. When I hold the knife I am brought back to when it all started. Scale in the bathroom with a notebook beneath it. Weight listings. Up then down then up and up and up again. Couldn’t get it to go back down. The word fat carved into my thigh. It’s mostly faded now but when I hear your knock on the door it all comes rushing back to me. Don’t notice don’t notice don’t notice. Ignore the blood. Ignore the tears. Ignore the way I am shivering under your touch. I deserve this. My mother sits me down at the dining room table. She washes my sliced up arm with alcohol and apologizes for the sting. She wraps me with a long bandage and tells me that just because I cut myself doesn’t mean that I don’t have to do my math homework. I had never wanted to die as badly as I did then. Thirteen and sobbing onto a placemat from dollar tree, better than my tears staining the wood table. My father never got mad at me for being depressed like my mother did. I know somewhere in him the same sadness resided. He may not have cut himself but he found other ways to hurt. He has tried every drug he could get his hands on. He’d pick every fight that wasn’t his to win and haggle until everyone in his life was miserable. It’s a wonder my mom never left him. It’s a wonder she hasn’t left me. When i close my eyes I see my fathers corpse. My greatest loss. My greatest disappointment. Forever wondering what could have been. I wonder if when my mother closes her eyes she sees me instead. Sees me as a young kid with bleeding wrists or as a disgusting slut calling men twenty years older than me Daddy online just for a chance at affection. I wonder what about me disappoints her the most. I still imagine myself dying before her. I do not know what I would do with myself if I had no parents left to disappoint. The knife so close at all times just begging to see the blood. The car full of gas and waiting to be at the bottom of the lake. Maybe I have a problem. Maybe I always have. Maybe it’s hereditary. Maybe it’s all me. Maybe it’s always been me. Maybe the knife is the only family heirloom I have left.

[problematicfanfics]

Kinktober ‘21 Oct 19. Hate Sex (WIP)

RAMSCAM, dubcon, l’manberg, dsmp au

slight NSFW (for now)

i think this’ll be my last one… idk. maybe i’ll post more. ignore all errors.

* ⋆★

Trees.

There used to be so many trees.

But with the combination of sapnap’s fires and gentrification of the land nothing was left but a small patch some ways off.

It was his sanctuary. Sometimes he’d read, drink, stargaze. But sometimes he’d do even more intimate things, like writing or singing, even art.

Today was a good day. There was no war, only collecting wood and laughing with friends. So he had decided to settle down for the night and paint a little.

Upon arriving he was very well pissed off to see a drunk man laying in the middle of his safe place. Schlatt. What a fucking disappointment.

When the man first showed his face around the server, Tommy remembers feeling so honored. Just having Schlatt around in his general area in his stupid suit and tie made him feel so cool.

But now he sees how naive and stupid he was. Maybe it was all the time Schlatt had spent away, maybe it was the rumors that shot out of people’s tongues like arrows in war, or maybe it was just seeing these rumors play out live in front of him. Whatever it was, war made him realize he can’t blindly follow someone he knows nothing about.

“Hey. Hey dickface, get out of here.” He shoved Schlatt.

“Fuck off, man. Can’t a guy sleep?”

“You have a bed. Go. This is my spot.” Tommy placed his art things on the ground, quietly to not draw attention to it. “It’s the only fucking patch of trees around and I want to relax tonight. Beat it kid.”

“A fucking drunk like you doesn’t have any right to relax. You do nothing BUT relax!” The kid threw his hands up in the air. “I have been through wars. Through death and pain. I have the right to relax. NOT you.”

Schlatt stood, moonlight highlighting just how big he was. “I don’t deserve to relax?”

“You fucking heard me.”

“Learn to keep your mouth shut, kid. You’re gonna run into trouble.” The older one turned to leave with an eye roll, muttering under his breath “I’m fucking lazy? I do shit.”

“If you do shit,” Tommy turned to face Schlatt defiantly. “Then what is it? Because I only see you get drunk.”

He stopped walking, taking only a few strides to get to where Tommy was. “I’m a fucking business man, that’s what I am. And I’m pretty damn successful. I got money, a life, and liquor. I’m fucking set. All I see you have is trauma for no reason.”

Tommy scoffed. “No reason? It was life or death!”

“It was for the independence of a stupid nation, who gives a shit. Just fucking get under their rule and take them down from there.”

“That’s the fucking stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“Ok Mister ‘“do I shoot him or aim for the sky?”,” He gets close to the boy’s face. His eyes sting from the alcohol on his breath. “Pathetic that you really think you ever meant anything to this nation.”

Tommy’s fists ball up. “I paid with my life.”

“So what? I still see you standing here. You wouldn’t even die for the thing you’re oh so passionate about. It’s sad, truly, that you think you deserve special treatment. This is public property.”

The blond points to a sigh on a tree, and Schlatt goes over to read it.

“BIG MAN TOMMY’S LAND! DON’T TOUCH >:(”

Schlatt walked back over to Tommy. “Doesn’t mean jack shit if you don’t have a building on here. So as far as I can tell,” He leans up against the beginning of the mountain behind him. “This is fair game.”

This fucking bastard! What fucking right does he think he has? Tommy’s the entitled one here? No way! No, all he wanted was to sit and paint. Just one night of relaxation. But he can’t even fucking have that.

Quickly he pulled out his sword. “Square up, bitch.”

Schlatt stood up straight. “Woah, hold up kid. I don’t have a sword. Let me make one real quick.”

Tommy threw an extra stone sword in front of him. “You and me. Let’s go. Right here right now.”

Schlatt slowly picked up the sword, getting into his fighting stance.

The two stared at each other intensely. Neither wanted to make the first move and ruin their chances.

Finally Tommy swung his sword, lodging it in a tree instead of Schlatt’s side. The older jumped out of the way before holding his head in his hands. That’s right, he’s still drunk. Tommy almost forgot.

He unlodged his sword before running towards Schlatt again. The two nicked each other a couple of times, coming dangerously close to killing the other once or twice. But something always stopped them.

Schlatt pulled out his shield, instantly knocking Tommy off his feet. The boy fell on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

He took this as an opportunity to kick the sword out of Tommy’s hand and pick the boy up by his shirt. The boy was thrown against the stone wall like a ragdoll, neck pinned by Schlatt’s forearm. It was quiet except for their breathing.

“I win.” Schlatt whispered. Tommy could’ve sworn the hairs on his back stood up. Something about the way the man said it…

“Well? What do you say?” The grip tightened.

Desperately Tommy clawed at the arm pinning him down. “Fuck you.”

“Tsk. That’s no way to speak to me.” Schlatt’s voice sounded condescending. “Cmon, baby boy. Tell me I win.”

“Baby boy? What’s this, a fucking porn?”

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking own up to the fact I beat your ass.”

“Never.” Tommy snapped back.

“Fine. You fucking asked for it.” Schlatt reached into his back pocket. “You’re lucky I even have. I had plans to fucking jack off before you showed up, guess I can’t just do anything in peace around here.”

His grip changed from forearm to hand, pressing hard against the boy’s neck.

Finally he pulled out a small bottle of disposable lube. He grinded his hips against the boy’s front, hot breath escaping the younger. “Fuck, if we’re gonna do it let’s just do it.” Tommy rolled his eyes and pushed Schlatt’s hand away, more of a suggestion they should just mutually get this over with.

Schlatt let go and immediately Tommy pulled him in for a kiss. A mess of taking off clothes, barely taking breath in between making out, they made their way to the back of the mini forest out of everyone’s eyeline.

Tommy pushed himself up against Schlatt. He hated this man, but there was an undeniable attraction he had with him.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Refrain, chapter two - a Malevolent fic (The start of Surrogate, season two!)

Kayne's "season one" ended with a choice: whichever father Faroe picked, he was ready to let that slingshot fire.

She picked Arthur. Well, that was nice, wasn't it? Especially since he'd spent almost a year pulling that rubber band back, loaded.

Of course, he had no idea how well it would work. Humans are weird, and pieces of Hastur seem to respond particularly well to prolonged exposure.

It was time to deny a wicked man his prize.

Time to give a good man a second chance and see what he did with it.

Time to take the abused piece of a god and find out how it changed when given to someone else.

Part of Surrogate, a Malevolent AU. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3 (chapter two)

-------

“Go on, snarl away,” Larson drawled in that infuriating tone he had for when he’d made Yellow extremely upset and cared not one whit about it. “Rage all you want, little one. I’ll be here when your tantrum is over.”

How DARE you, Yellow roared. I am a GOD, you miserable insect! You will bow your head in reverence, you will honor me as I speak!

“You ain’t done a damn thing to earn that,” Larson said, and Yellow did not need a mirror to know he was smiling—that insufferable fucking smirk that he used when he thought he had the upper hand. “For a god, you ain’t got a whole lot of bite to that bark.”

I will make you fucking suffer, Yellow snarled. I will rip the skin from your body and craft a suit for you to wear of it, I will—

“Then do it,” Larson drawled.

Yellow went silent, shocked.

“You’re the big, scary god,” Larson said, and he stretched his hand out, rolling his wrist. ��Go on, then. You said you had Arthur’s eyes? Take mine. Take my hand. I won’t even fight you. I just want to see if you can do it.”

Yellow roared, pouring all of his power into the effort, searching out nerves or—or blood vessels, or—

“I’m waitin’,” Larson drawled.

His power found no purchase, slipping off of Larson’s body like oil over the surface of water. Yellow went quiet.

Larson laughed, rolling his wrist again, touching each of his fingers to his thumb. “That’s what I thought.”

It doesn’t— Yellow said, voice halting. I don’t—

“Oh, I know, I know. The ‘fragmented soul of a god’ schtick.” He turned his hand over, flexing the palm. “Not much of a god, if you can’t even take a willing host, hm?”

Yellow remained silent.

“Now, let's go and experiment with that ritual you mentioned. I think a bit of blood will open up some of that power and maybe get us somewhere.”

Yellow didn’t answer. He didn’t have to: he knew Larson had won that battle.

Just one of many, many to come.

#

Watch out! Now!

Yellow wasn’t helping, but he wasn’t hurting, either, and Parker was too focused to reply. He ran.

By this time, a few coppers were up on the rooftops with him. The thugs stayed down below, occasionally shooting when they thought they got the chance.

Parker was absolutely sure Larson would pitch a fit if he knew they were doing that.

“Stop!” called some breathless copper back there, but Parker did not.

He’d been afraid that ten years dead would leave him weak, less in shape than he’d been, but no: whatever else that Outer God had done, he’d left him fucking fit, and so Parker kept running.

The snow slowed him down. He slid a lot; caught himself in the nick of time more than once on a chimney or pipe, and kept going.

Laughing.

Because this was fucking great.

The air was freezing. The ice had cut his skin all over. And he was outrunning the world.

They’d get him eventually, he knew. A lucky bullet, or a patch of ice. He’d run out of roof, or these idiots would get their act together and pincer him. But until then?

Until then, he ran like a mountain goat, and cackled like a wolf.

So far, against all odds, he’d gotten away with it.

Look out!

More shooting.

“West! He’s going west!” shouted cops.

He wasn’t going to make it, but at least he’d try. He’d already been dead, anyway. This kind of death was way more his style than how it went the first time. “Got a do-over,” he breathed, rounding a chimney.

What?

“All we need now is that ticket to Carcosa!” he laughed. “We could take the ferry!”

The tickets would cost too much! A beat. That was a joke!

“Solid fucking work!” Parker approved, braced himself, and jumped.

He barely made this one. They’d gone too far downtown, away from the tenements, from the poorer, crowded housing. He wouldn’t make the next roof. His lead was small, but it would have to do. He started trying doors. Most of these places had exits onto the roof, and he spotted three more before the next alley—before the gap he couldn’t jump. He’d try climbing to the ground, or even into a window, but the goons would shoot him. Parker tried another door. Nope.

Shouts still followed them, gasping coppers and wicked goons, closing in. He tried a door.

It opened.

Parker didn’t hesitate. He threw himself inside.

#

His breathing was loud, but there was no way around that. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out he was in here, so he tore down the stairwell, skipping steps, jumping onto landings. If he could get out a back way and get around them somehow—

Couldn’t ask for help from strangers. Not with war going.

“Chances of this working out are one in a million, buddy!” He opted to try for a second story fire escape, hoping to catch a glimpse of where things lay before making this move. “How’s our luck looking?”

We should have been caught before we even left the estate, Yellow said, voice frantic, but there was a sort of wild mania about it, like Parker’s desperate laughter had become infectious. I—I am a god! It is my will that our luck is good! And he let out a howling laugh. I decree it! I command that it bend to our will, to change!

Parker laughed. “That’s the spirit! Ought'a take you with me any time I bet on the ponies.” And he peeked.

He could hear them down there—not in this alley, but around it, too near. The voices echoed; which damn side were they on?

He decided to assume both.

It was starting to get dark now; they’d been at this for hours. He wondered if he could trick them into thinking he’d gotten further away. If he could make it to the building across the way, he could maybe get through it to the other side, unseen, and further away from this cordon. They knew he couldn’t jump that distance. Maybe, just maybe, they’d focus on this building, giving him time.

Or maybe he’d still be caught the second he stuck his nose out.

Well. That was a possibility, either way. Parker made up his mind. “We’re gonna move,” he said very quietly. “We’re gonna head toward the river. They got culverts and shit down there. Might have a chance to lose them.”

A good idea. The water could disguise our scent, lose our footprints, Yellow said.

“Oh, our scent’ll be disguised, all right. It’s gross in there—but you can really lose a guy. Been part of more than one manhunt that went wrong thanks to that kind of mess underground. It’s risky… but I figure it’ll be risky for everybody, not just us. You in?”

I’m in. Yellow rumbled softly. I feel like I remember something about the underground, here. About tunnels. Tunnels can go many places, Parker. Another pause. But I don’t remember. I’m sorry.

“Don’t need to be, pal. Feel it with me, if you can: sucks that we might die, might get caught, might get hurt, but this is a fucking great way to do it. We are alive. You get it? More than any fuck just sitting in an office somewhere. You feel me?”

Parker… His voice was hesitant, full of disquiet. You… I do not have the power to… help, if all goes south. You might die.

“Pal, I’ve been dead. I’m gonna die anyway, someday, no matter how this goes. It doesn’t scare me as much as dying with regret ‘cause I didn’t live.”

I don’t want you to die, Yellow said softly. And I especially don’t want you to die for nothing, Parker.

“It’s okay, pal. I promised I’d try, so I’m gonna. If they do get us, it won’t be because we weren’t balls to the wall trying.” He watched. He counted voices, and did his best to identify location. Some were still above, shouting to each other. They still thought he was on the roof; this was the time to go. Parker took the fire escape down, heart pounding, and raced across to peek onto the sidewalk.

Luck was with them: they had a brief moment where the search party wasn’t here, wasn’t looking, wasn’t present. He ran all-out into the building beside him and started making his way back uptown.

#

Gophers, that’s what he was thinking of, and he laughed.

What is it? said Yellow, who sounded a bit tired.

Parker was more than a bit tired. He was fucking ragged; his coat was torn, the hat was long gone (and he hoped whoever found it needed a new one), and he was damned hungry. New bruises bloomed, visible and otherwise; the one copper who’d caught him had not been a lightweight, and managed to get cuffs on one wrist before Parker took him down.

And now that he’d taken a copper down, there was definitely no going back. Damn, these bruises sang. “Just thinking of what this is like from the outside,” he said. “Gophers.” He wiped sweat from his brow. The cuff on his wrist was too tight; he held the loose end lightly so he wouldn’t catch it on anything. Stupid copper, losing the key when they struggled.

They were nearly there.

Gophers? Said Yellow, sounding offended at the word.

“Yeah. Ducking into buildings, popping out again. Try to catch a gopher, and he goes under, and pops up in another hole out of reach.”

Oh. Yellow didn’t seem to think it was as funny, but that was fine. How much farther?

“My friend, we are one fucking street away from the slope down to the river—but from here out, there’s no cover. Hanging in there? I need you with me, pal.”

I am with you. He hesitated. I struggle to believe we’ve made it this far.

“You know, me, too? But I’m loving it. Heh. They ain’t never gonna forget this little runaround.”

Nevah, repeated Yellow, who every once in a while tried on Parker’s accent for size.

“Rule of thumb: can’t stop the bad guys? At least cost ‘em so much they regret it.” He breathed deeply, slowly, preparing for this race. Shouting men still called to one another behind him, and nearby; Larson himself had yet to make an appearance, but Parker knew he was around. Just felt it. His instinct was never wrong.

(Though maybe it had been about Arthur? No… no. Shit happened to that guy. Instinct couldn’t predict that.)

A pyrrhic victory. I… I can understand this, yes.

“Ready?” said Parker. “Three.”

Three.

“Two.”

Two!

“There he is!” some guy shouted from behind, and Parker ran for his life.

They shot at him, but they were dumb enough (and he was lucky enough) that they tried shooting while running instead of just standing still, and they mostly missed. He hurled himself down the hill toward the Hudson river and pounded along the steep bank. One of those culverts was dead ahead, built into the earth, dark and scary and nasty.

It would be cold as the devil’s ass in here.

Well, always wanted to kick somebody important where the sun don’t shine, he thought, and aimed himself for it.

He was right: the water was fucking cold.

I can taste it, Yellow complained, because it was true—the fug in here was thick.

No, YOU fucking go after him echoed behind them, and Parker laughed as he plunged wildly into the dark and hoped he wouldn’t break his damn neck.

#

Some gutter provided enough light for Parker to get a look at his side. The bullet had gone through, so he was right about that; but the damn thing hadn’t stopped bleeding, which he’d assumed it would.

It was one of those annoying wounds that only started hurting when he really got his eyes on it.

Yellow gasped. Parker!

“Easy. We’re not done. This just… fuck.” Not done yet, but this needed a doctor. Parker didn’t know one in New York he could go to. In Arkham, sure. Ten years ago.

He wasn’t so sure they’d be amenable to him now. Fuck.

“Nothing for it,” he muttered, balling up the coat and pressing it against the wound (and wow, that hurt) as he continued on.

It looks bad, Yellow moaned, doing nothing to help Parker take his mind off the injury. I’m… I can’t… I’m sorry. I… Our luck will hold. His voice grew firm. I demand it. Our luck will hold. Where are they?

The water had long numbed his feet; the smells were… really not worth considering. But the important thing was the voices of their pursuers, while occasionally still popping up, had yet to catch up.

Parker, where are we?

“This point? No idea. Not far enough, though, I can tell you that.”

I concur. I will be much happier when I cannot hear them at all. But this… it’s certainly not nearly as exciting as jumping across rooftops. Are we still “living?”

“We sure are, buddy.” Parker meant it, and answered without hesitation. “We get outta this, this part here? Is gonna make the best part of our story.”

Even though it’s just wading through shit in the dark?

“Yep.” He followed the line of light from various storm drains. This meant they were under some kind of main road, but he’d lost his sense of direction almost immediately getting in here (and knew part of that was going into shock, thanks to whichever lucky son of a bitch got him), and had absolutely no idea where they were. “This is gonna make the best part of our story.”

You said that already. Are you alright?

Fuck. He had. Parker stopped, bent over, and breathed for a minute. “Focus,” he said to himself. “Come on. Just a little further.”

But we don’t know that. How can you know that?

“It’s not about knowing it. It’s about believing it so I don’t lie down and give up.” And he did neither.

#

This didn’t really seem like a New York City sewer anymore.

He couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the distant sound of crashing water, like some crazy waterfall. Maybe it was the fact that the scents had changed; it wasn’t shit anymore. It was three things, alternating: sort of a soil smell, vegetation gone bad, and a meat smell.

That smell worried him. It didn’t seem real sewery. It seemed more… jungle. Like maybe there was some meat-eating thing down here.

“There’s rumors,” he said.

What?

“Rumors of alligators in the sewers. I mean. Can’t be. It gets cold, and they’re cold-blooded. But funny, right?”

Parker. Why would you bring this up now?

“Don’t you smell that? It’s real weird.”

Meat? Yellow blurted.

“Yep. Maybe we’re near a slaughterhouse? But no, I know we’re not.”

Meat… said Yellow, thoughtful. Meat. Why would there be meat in a sewer? That doesn’t make sense. The only thing I can think of…

He suddenly went very quiet.

“Buddy?”

Parker, how do people… care for their dead, in New York City?

“Same way they do most places, I guess. Bury ‘em in the cemetery.” He thought for a moment. “I guess we got in here not too far from Trinity Church cemetery. Not sure where we are now, but… yeah. Cemeteries. Used to be lots of them here. They got paved over for buildings and shit. Why?”

I… underground, in the Dreamlands, I remember there are… creatures, sometimes. They often eat the dead. I am unsure if you also have them here, but I would recommend caution, if you smell meat. No matter how fresh.

“Eat the…” Parker took a moment to process that one and stopped walking. “Guess that’s… efficient, huh?” His brow knit. “We don’t have those here. But then, you’re here, aren’t you?”

I was brought by magic, Yellow said, almost defensively. But yes. Larson could call upon many sorts of creatures on his own. These creatures, though… there’s a memory, but I cannot grasp it. I know something. His voice surged. I know something, Parker, but I don’t know what it is! I don’t… I don’t remember.

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay. We’ll handle it.” Lower: “Don’t suppose you remember how dangerous they might be to living people.”

They were not dangerous to me, Yellow said with a hint of a whine. But… they… They were rational! They are rational, and can be communicated with. They’re not animals, Parker. We might… There was another heavy, meaningful pause. We might be able to convince them to take on our pursuers. Or, at the very least, lead them away—if we have something to offer.

“All I got on me is a bloody shirt, a coat, and the rock I picked up in the park. But hey; I can talk. Maybe we can figure something out.” Because Parker was sure something this weird would happen, here, under New York City, with a piece of a god in his head.

Stranger things have been offered in trade, and stranger things still have been accepted, Yellow said.

“We got this. And either way, I don’t know anybody else who saw corpse-eating guys under a city, so it’s an adventure.” And he walked forward.

He wasn’t trying to be overly quiet now, though he was listening sharply. If these things could be reasoned with, he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to sneak up.

The damn wound was still bleeding. Sluggishly, but he was pretty sure it needed to be sewn shut. “If there’s anybody here,” he said, just a pinch louder, “I’m open for trade.” Lower: “And if not, I’m gonna fucking bash your head in if you try shit.”

Right on cue there was a sound like a dog taking a sharp, deep sniff.

Fuck.

Parker saw its eyes glinting in the hollow of a branching tunnel, glowing red in the dim light like a wolf’s. It stayed in the shadows, hunched, head tilting—and it sniffed again, deep. “You smell strange. Like a human, but also like the newly-food. You are not newly-food.”

The creature took a cautious step forward on its knuckles—its face was long, mouth jutting out like a snout, pointed ears perked forward, and its lips peeled back from its pale face in a hyena-like grimace. “I can smell your blood, human. What are you doing here?”

A ghoul, Yellow said softly.

Parker thought to himself that it was a damn good thing he’d had a lot of practice keeping his expression neutral. “We’re lost, friend. Not a super-fun situation, to be honest. Could use some help, if you’re up for it. I don’t have a lot to trade, but I’m willing.”

The ghoul tilted its head, like a dog hearing an interesting sound. “Lost? But you’re found, now. I can make you less lost, perhaps.” It slunk around the edge of the light from a manhole—Parker could see it move, the shape of a man hunched over and walking on long, clawed arms and legs with ankle and knee out of proportion, and clad in what looked to be a torn and heavily altered pair of pinstriped pants.

This thing probably knew his heart rate picked up, but there was nothing he could do about that. “That sounds like a good deal. I can trade you some info for sure. Uh. Not sure what else I’ve got.” He offered a crooked grin, hoping it read human facial expressions. “I’m not exactly bargaining from the best position here, so I hope you’ve got some kindness in ya.”

It sniffed at him again. “Another smell. A strange smell. Hm.” It sat back on its haunches, the pants creaking. “But where to? Lost is relative if you have no map. Up, or down?”

Parker, Yellow said softly. I remember now. Ghouls… They’re from the Dreamlands. I told you. I think this one knows how to get there.

There was the sound of a muffled curse, echoing and faint from down the tunnel. The ghoul’s ears flicked toward it, its eyes focusing hard on the tunnel.

Or, Yellow said, his voice thin and hesitant. Or… We could… get out. Find a way out of New York.

“It is cold,” the ghoul said, eyeing Parker—or, specifically, his coat. “I take you, up or down, and you give me the coat. Yes?”

It was a choice. Like that poem Arthur always used to quote—something about two paths in a yellow wood.

Parker knew Earth, or at least New England. Chances were, he could get help here—people who knew him well enough not to think he was somehow working for the enemy.

But on the other hand… a new world. An entirely new one—and, well. He’d promised Yellow. His gut said that really mattered. “Free advice first,” he said. “Bunch of goons looking through here with guns, and they’ll shoot. So stay out of their way.” And he held up the coat. “It’s got my blood on it. That a problem?”

“Mmm… foolish. We will be gone before these goons catch us.” It snorted. “The others will keep their distance. We crave no trouble. But your trust is noted.” Very gingerly it stretched out a hand, feeling the thick wool. “Blood is blood. It matters not to me. In time its scent will fade, and be but a memory—the stain shall remind me of your kindness. I accept. Up, or down?”

Parker was sharply aware of Yellow’s silence. “Which one gets me to the Dreamlands?”

Yellow gasped.

His gut had been right: this mattered.

“Down,” the ghoul said. “Brave man. Foolish man. But… the scent did not lie.”

The voices grew louder. The ghoul’s head snapped towards the tunnel.

“We go now,” it said, turning and loping into a side tunnel. “The coat you will give in time.”

“Thanks.” Brave and foolish—yeah, that sounded about right. He was okay with those descriptors. Parker followed at once, trying to step where this thing stepped.

Parker, Yellow whispered. Are you sure? We’re going to the Dreamlands?

“Yeah,” he murmured softly. “Said I would. This guy’s our ticket.” Damn, the goons were closer than he’d thought—and they weren’t exactly quiet. He might, he thought, have bled more than he’d realized. That was going to be a problem.

A problem for this Dreamlands place. He debated asking about Carcosa. Debated if that would be giving too much away. Decided to see where this new friend chose to drop him instead.

The ghoul stopped at a t-junction, pausing to paw at the wall. Bricks began to come free, tumbling to the ground and splashing in the sluggish, dark water at the bottom of the sewers. Piece by piece, a tunnel was revealed, large enough for Parker to walk through with only the barest stoop, the edges of it roughly clawed out, but smoothed by the passage of time and bodies.

The voices sounded off again. Arguments about splitting up.

The ghoul’s ears pinned, and it let out a soft growl. “The coat, please.”

Parker handed it over at once. “I owe you more than a coat, man. Thank you. Anything I should know before going through?”

It took it, petting the fabric with its hand. “You will be in the Underworld. It is not a place for you. There are stairs. Climb them to the light, and you will be free.” And then its head snapped forward, sniffing at Parker’s side. “And find a healer. Your blood turns to poison by the minute.”

I… If we can get to the surface, I might remember. I will remember something, Parker. I’ll get you to safety.

“Yeah, running through sewers fucked up’ll do that to you.” Parker grinned wryly. “They got guns. Someone might have magic. Good luck. And thanks.” He didn’t have a hat to tip, but he could salute, and did.

Then he dove in.

Behind them he could hear bricks being shoved haphazardly back into place, cutting off the last vestiges of light.

He couldn’t see super-well, but down was hopefully enough of a warning.

#

It felt like days before the slope evened out again, and Parker suddenly stumbled into a massive chamber that echoed with every shocked step. It was dark but for a faint gray light that clung to everything like mist, the temperature cool, but not freezing—a stark change from the sewers of New York.

Yellow let out another soft gasp.

The ceiling was far above them, dark as pitch and featureless but for the faint cracks and spots of light that speckled its surface, like lonely embers of a scattered fire. In the distance, he could see what looked like mountains, lit with the foxfire glow of whatever the fuck went on in this underground area, and he could see what looked like some sort of black-stone city at the base of one of them, and…

The stairs, Parker, Yellow said. There! We can get to the surface, and find a healer. Are you ready?

Parker made one small noise. It wasn’t a laugh or a sob; it was something else, just some raw emotion, and he wiped his leaking eyes. “I’m in another world, buddy. Me. Fuckin’ Parker Yang from Boston.” Then he shook himself. “Yeah. Stairs. This’ll be fun, I’m sure.” He felt too much wonder to flip into true sarcasm. “Let’s do this.”

Pahkah Yang, from Bahston. Private Eye. Adventurer. It was almost a delirious laugh. I’m almost home. We’re almost there, Parker.

He could tell his lungs were a little less efficient from blood loss—but “healer” sounded promising. “I’ll get you there, buddy, if it takes my last breath.” And he couldn’t help saying it. “Funny, huh? All that time, all those years, all those sacrifices. and Larson could’a just asked and gotten you home like that.”

There was a deep, heavy silence.

I suppose I had to wait for someone with competence, Yellow finally said, voice soft and hesitant—like he was asking permission.

“Heh. He’s competent plenty—but I think he meant to keep you. We got this, you and me. I wanna see this shining jewel of a city you talked about.” He wiped his eyes again. “Guess I had to die to get a chance at a better life. Go figure.”

I will ensure you are rewarded, in whichever way you prefer. The Dreamlands would bend to someone of your talents—but if you want to go home, when all is done, I will see what I can do. Yellow paused for a moment. I rather like you, Parker. I will see to it I keep my promise as well.

“That’s real sweet of you, kid. Appreciate it.” Parker stumbled—not enough to fall, or tumble down, but enough that he had to kneel for a moment and catch his breath. “So, just connected to nothing, how do we find a healer? And, uh, can I do dishes or something to pay them?”

The nearest town should have one—and if we’re especially lucky they will be a Cana, and will help us regardless of our ability to pay. If not, they may have us do some tasks for them in exchange: there are many different kingdoms in the Dreamlands, and not all accept the same coin. A deep sigh. I would settle for a traveling bard, even. We’ve one hell of a story to tell, and most of them know at least some minor magics.

“We do have a hell of a story! See? It’s already paying off.” He took a moment and breathed, then resumed, this time at a slower pace, but one he could keep steady. His sweat had gone cold. He knew his body was giving out, but they were almost there. “Magic seems real handy to know. Maybe we should learn some.”

I would use magic now, if I was certain it wouldn’t kill you, Yellow said. Are you alright? You’re stumbling. Our mouth feels strange.

“I’ve been bleeding for a while, buddy. Human bodies are kinda dumb that way—they lose too much juice and they go all wacky.” His new pace seemed to be the right plan. “So magic would kill me, huh?”

Without the attunement process, chances are high. Do you need to stop and rest? There was real fear in the voice now. Larson never… He never got hurt, from what I could see. Other people took risks for him.

“Yeah, that’s rich-guy shit for you. Guys like us have to do the work ourselves.” He took a moment to answer the first question. “Don’t think it’s a good idea to stop here. Feels like we’d be… dunno. Setting ourselves up.”

You’re right. Yellow somehow took a deep breath without lungs. Magic. Let’s talk about magic, then. Humans can use it, but you have to work up to it. Too much would kill you right away—from what you described, I would have thought that’s what had happened to Arthur, though it seems as though something else entirely happened instead. But you… I don’t know. I would have to introduce you to magic slowly, to make sure it didn’t burn your blood to cinders if I tried to heal you. Do you want to learn magic, Parker?

He finally stopped walking so he could laugh, leaning on the wall. “Fucking hell, buddy… went from, ‘hey, turns out you got a soul after all, and hey, there’s gods,’ to ‘do you wanna be a wizard’ real fast, didn’t we?” He continued laughing as he resumed his climb.

Oh, you don’t wish to be the great Pahkah tha Wise? Content with being Pahkah tha Brave?

He laughed again. “Wise? Don’t know I ever got called that before. Hey, you know what? We’re in this all the way. All the way to Carcosa, and whatever happens there. Tell you what: you think I can learn magic? I could learn how to heal shit. That’d make life a hell of a lot easier.”

If I attuned you to magic, I could heal you. And yes, that would make everything much, much easier. He rumbled a bit. I think… Yes, I think you could use magic with responsibility.

Parker took a moment to breathe; it sounded thick and labored. “You won’t be pissed if I can’t do it, right?”

No, I would hardly hold it against you if you were unable to use magic. It is the get of gods, not mortals—the talent of even those most skilled mortals pales in comparison to the weakest of the true gods. If you were unable, I could still cast through you once you had been attuned. I had to, for some spells that were too big for Larson, much like the ritual he and I were conducting when you arrived.

“Sounds like you were real useful to him.” There was no censure in this. It was just a statement; and yet, like many of his recent words regarding Larson, it carried strange weight.

Just a pinch quieter, Yellow added, And will you be angry with me? If I cannot will the stars to move, or turn mortal flesh incorruptible?

Parker snorted. “Kid, I’m just happy we’re alive. You turn water to wine, or just keep some damn bread soft, it’ll be enough for me. Hey—What was that ritual for, anyway? The one that blew up and got me involved.”

There was that hesitation again. Fear tinted Yellow’s answer. The ritual we performed was meant to contact another Great Old One so we could broker a deal with them, offer sacrifices for power. Power for Larson, to handle the spells that it would require for me to ascend to something more like my other half; power for me, to bolster and feed the magic through Larson as well. He had… there were many who followed him who would slit their own throats at his command. Some of them would even do so eagerly.

“Shit. No wonder you wanted to go back. Sounds like you were halfway to your goal.” He looked up. There was an exit up there—a pinpoint, bright, still, and tiny. Parker clenched his jaw. He could do this. Slower, he kept climbing. “Those poor saps. They didn’t even get shit out of it, did they?”

For Larson, most people are merely a means to an end. To an extent, I believe he and I were this to each other, too. Though slightly less glamorous, this is a far more direct way to achieve what I want, so I am certainly glad for your interruption. Yellow noticed the point of light as well, letting out a soft gasp. We’re almost there, Parker. You are truly magnificent, did you know that?

Parker snorted. “I’m just stubborn as hell, buddy. That’s not magnificent.” His breathing was wet. “Almost wish we had run into him. Might like to see if he’s got a glass jaw.”

I’m afraid I must disagree: I would prefer to never, ever lay eyes on that miserable little man again. There’s a finality, there, shot through with relief. We’re almost at the top. Fantastic work, Parker.

“Helps having a good travel companion.” He stumbled out into weird, new sunlight, onto unfamiliar ground. The air tasted strange; it was all different, so different, but he couldn’t see so good right now. “This what country air’s like?” he said, and then he collapsed.

PARKER! It was a desperate cry as he hit the dirt. Parker, no! I didn’t realize it was so bad. Oh, gods, I’ve killed us both. I’m so sorry, Parker. I’m so, so sorry.

Parker couldn’t answer. The daylight was bright, too bright, twisting at the edges.

Yellow let out a gut-wrenching sob. You fucking did it, Parker. You brought me home. You kept your promise. I will be eternally grateful to you for that. But I wasn’t…

There was that silence again. Heavy. Looming.

But I made you a promise in turn, didn’t I? And… And if you’re not going down without a fight, neither am I. If this doesn’t work, so be it. But at least I can face you in the Dark World knowing I tried. There was a dark sound, a snarl, a sharp intake of breath. I will not go gentle into that good night. And neither will you. I am the King in Fucking Yellow, and this is my will!

Parker’s mouth moved, tongue licking his lips, and with a voice that was both his own and something completely alien, a single word like the sound of an avalanche boomed from his lips as Parker fully passed out.

(chapter three)

[konigsfaerie]

Sapphire Throne

Summary: While in the throne room, Loki finds a way to relieve his new queen's stress.

(sub!loki x dom!fem!reader)

cw: contains bdsm and femdom)

The Mortal Queen is what they called you, even though you were mortal no longer. You spent your childhood and formidable years on Earth, and when you met Loki and were taken to Asgard, your newfound people either loved or hated you. But the people that loved you adored you, would die for you, and the people that hated you really hated you, some going as far to commit treason to get you off of the throne. Some had views like Odin. Views such as mortals are of no consequence, only made to worship the gods of old and die at an early age. It infuriated them that someone from Earth could hold such power not only physically, but at court.

Nevertheless, Loki fell in love with you during your time on Earth and made you Asgard’s queen, and you stepped into the role with such love in your heart for your people, whether they detested you or not. As you sat on the throne, your love next to you, deciding whether to go into enemy territory, you placed a hand on your chin and contemplated for a moment, water running through your veins. “I hate to put our people at war again…. Our soldiers through more battles,” you said, your eyes falling to the floor and then back up to your council members. “But I fear if we don’t, Asgard might fall. We can’t risk our people like this.”

Most of the council members had the utmost respect for your rule, although one or two silently protested your status. “Is it decided, My Queen?”

You gave a look to Loki, and he nodded in return. “It is, Vastros. We will invade their territory within the next nightfall. We go to war this winter,” you proclaimed, slamming down your large staff, the color of lavender. The look on your face was no look of pride, of hope. It was the look of a woman knowing she would send her people to die, even though you were sure we’d win the war.

The entire castle shook with your proclamation, and Loki’s matching staff hummed in response. For many decisions, Loki let you take the lead, as he knew you needed to solidify your title as queen. It didn’t matter much, because on many, if not all issues, you eventually came to the same decision.

As the council members left in unison, both of you stayed at your thrones. You gave a deep sigh, a hand flying to your forehead.

You personally got to know almost all of the soldiers before you were first crowned. At first it was an act of simply wanting to gain trust among the people, but soon they became some of the most trusted friends you had. You were already a trained fighter, but the way of the Asgardians were much different, and your magic was extremely new to you. While you could wield the power of the elements, they taught you power of the supreme weapons they held. This was why it was so painful to declare war. You knew that many of the people you came to love so much would die on a nondescript, frozen-over battlefield, no one to send them off to Valhalla.

“I know you’re stressed, my darling,” Loki breathed, “but you did make the right decision.” His deep green eyes found your chocolate brown ones, full of love and sympathy. “I suppose I never warned you of how much it could hurt… making decisions for a whole nation of people.”

You shook your head. “No… I suppose I didn’t know how many enemies we had. How much they wanted to get their hands on our vaults.”

His face fell to the floor, knowing he couldn’t exactly say something to make all the hurt go away. He knew how much you loved the Asgardian people, your newfound people. And knowing some of them might die… He quickly fell back into his head, as he was quite likely to do. But you knew him completely. You knew his thoughts, his doubts. His thoughts of thinking he wasn’t good enough to rule Asgard, not good enough to rule beside his Mortal Queen, not good enough to love his queen and receive love in turn. You wouldn’t let him fall back into those doubts.

“There is one thing you could do to relieve my stress, pet,” you quipped, giving him a small smirk. While you would maintain your composure at almost all times, the love in your eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

His back straightened on his throne, his eyes slowly finding yours. “Anything,” he said, not much more than a breathless whisper at the sound of one of his favorite nicknames you gave him.

“Get on your knees.”

Loki was wearing his Asgardian leathers, and you also fell into traditional Asgardian fashions, a small blue cape adorning your shoulders to honor your favorite element, with small green accents to honor Loki, only going down to your mid-back. Beyond that, you had a white jumpsuit on and white boots, streaked with even more green.

Before you could blink, Loki was at your feet, his knees on the ground and his back perfectly arched like the good boy he was. “M-My queen.”

Many people would probably guess he was a brat, and you a brat tamer, of which you both could absolutely be, but the gods-honest truth was that he loved serving you in all ways. It got him off. It made his cock twitch. And seeing him on his knees for you made you wet. Something about his willingly submissive nature towards you and only you made you want to make him beg.

“Oh, sweet boy,” you teased with a chuckle, “you’re so ready for me.” Even with all the doom and gloom, you knew that throughout the meeting when he looked at you, he was imagining just this. You placed a boot on his shoulder, contemplating just what you had in store for him. “What shall I do with you?”

The guards were still at the doors, which undoubtedly made Loki more excited, knowing his personal guards knew how much he served his queen.

“Leave us,” you commanded.

As they gave a curt nod and exited with a bow, the doors closed with a loud thud and you gave another smirk. “I know you like it when they watch, my little prince,” you mused, gazing into those wanting eyes.

In turn, he gave a small whimper and bowed his head.

“Unclasp my cape,” you ordered.

His hands scrambled onto your body, feeling on you until he reached your cape, unhooking the small golden buttons with his fingers. “P-Please let me touch you. Please.”

A small, almost nonexistent golden zipper ran down your white jumpsuit, and as you unzipped yourself, you pushed him back onto his kneeling stance. “Touch me?” you teased, his mouth falling open as he realized you didn’t have anything underneath your clothes. Your body lay more than halfway exposed, his eyes going directly to your breasts.

“Touch… these?” You grabbed your tits, pushing them together and twisting your nipples in-between your two fingers. You gave a little moan, spreading your legs so he could see how you glistened.

He knew to stay put. To stay absolutely still until you said otherwise, because he was such a good boy for you. Because he had seen how you enjoyed punishing him so much the last time he dared to touch you without permission, spanking him and not letting him cum for days at a time until he begged for release. The ways in which you punish him each time he disobeys got more creative.

“Now, who’s my good boy?”

“Me! I-I am! I promise, just please let me-”

You grabbed his wrist, pushing his face into yours, letting his lips fall onto yours. As the two of you kissed, you grabbed his throat and pushed him towards your body, making his hands grab your thighs. “Touch me,” you breathed.

He went to work on your body, squeezing your thick thighs, going up to your equally thick torso, cupping your breasts. You could feel his breath hitching. As your tongue flipped over his, you used your powers to slip off his pants, revealing the feminine underwear he had on that you commanded he always wear.

“Up.”

At once, he jumped up and let you survey his body, a small pout on his lips from the ghost of touch he felt. You felt it too, but you’d never reveal that. In times like these, you’d never let him know just how much you needed his fingers against your body.

“Take your shirt off.”

He quickly stripped down, all but his underwear, as you hadn’t ordered him to do so. And he knew how much you liked looking at his cock straining the thin fabric, of his ass popping out of the cheeky, lacy underwear. Loki bit his lip, waiting for you to instruct him further. Needing you to tell him what to do, even yearning for it.

“Such a good little prince,” you observed, putting one finger on the lacy underthings and pulling them down, his rather heavy cock immediately popping out and standing to attention. “And an excited one, hm?”

You finally arose from your throne of crystal sapphire, walking behind and fetching a black collar. “Is this what you want?”

He suddenly was unable to speak, only nodding without abandon, knowing the collar was a special treat you only gave to him when he was extra obedient. You let out a chuckle, placing it around his neck until you heard a click. With any other collar, he might be able to unlock it, but not this one. You had specifically trained with the most experienced of magical designers and created this yourself. Only could you unlock it, and that’s why it excited him so much.

You sat back down upon your sapphire throne, abandoning your jumpsuit and spreading your legs, placing them on Loki’s back, pushing him to your pussy. “Make your mommy feel good.”

His tongue immediately got to work, spreading over your glistening folds and lapping at your clit. As soon as he started moaning, you knew you were done for. The vibrations were already sending you over the edge, and as you groaned, you grabbed a handful of his black curly hair quite roughly, which only made matters worse for him.

He scooted even closer to you, slowly pushing a finger into you. As his fingers pumped into you, you gripped one arm on your chair, the other holding his hair tightly. Not only was he pumping into you, adding another finger, but he curled them, knowing exactly where your g-spot was. “My love-” you moaned, “Fuck!”

His tongue worked away from your clit, obviously wanting to taste you for longer. He stroked your pussy with his tongue, up and down, up and down, which caused you to wriggle around in his mouth. You could hear nothing but moans from him, his tongue diving deep in your hole.

Unable to stand it any longer, you gave him an order. “My clit, now. Make me cum.” You could only hold your composure for so much longer.

You could feel the disobedience thrumming off of him, wanting his tongue inside you for as long as he could. His tongue entered your hole again and in response, you dug your boots into his back and he let out a small cry of pleasure. “Now!”

He immediately realized his mistake, his place, and his tongue started making circles around your clit slowly. “Ah, fuck, Loki!” you gasped. “Make your queen cum, make your mommy cu-” Your body pulsed with pleasure, digging your boots into him even more. As you tried to escape your orgasm, his hands found your thighs and his tongue kept your pleasure in place, making you dizzy as your orgasm reached its height and your hips bucked against his soft lips.

As you came down, your hand wrapped around Loki’s beautiful curls once again, snapping his head up to look at you. You surveyed his beautiful face, his chin dripping with your juices. His tongue licked his lips, and you pressed your mouth to him, your tongue circling his, tasting yourself.

Your hand moved down to his waist, moving him to your lap and pressing him against your chest. “Sweetie?” you grabbed his face, looking into his eyes and putting on the sweetest smile you could muster. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His eyes widened slightly, his cock pressing against you as he made little movements, needing to feel your touch. “Mommy,” he begged. “Please. I’ll do anything, just please touch me.”

Your firm hand gripped his cock tightly. “Like this? Is this what my sweet boy wants?”

He started nodding, his mouth opening slightly as his eyes dug into yours. “B-But I…”

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be inside you!” The words almost came out like one, and you gripped the edge of his collar, getting up from the throne and dragging him just beyond the throne room, upstairs to both of your chambers.

As you dragged him above, you glanced at his blushed face, loving the fact that you had total control of him, body and soul. He was yours, and there was no denying that. In that moment and all moments forward, he’d do anything you told him to do.

You both entered your rooms, clad in black and white marble, huge statues of jade and sapphire separating the bedchambers, living spaces, and kitchen. With a stroke of your hand, the candles and fires lit at once, illuminating his face as you pushed him against the stone wall and started teasing the head of his cock.

With a touch of your finger, the collar fell to the floor and before he could start pouting, you pressed your hand against his throat. He gave a smile completely fueled by pleasure, his form slacking against the wall as your hand moved to stroke him. “Tell me what you want again.”

“I want….. I want…. Inside of you,” he whimpered, writhing against your hand.

“And should I let you cum tonight?”

“Yes! Please!” His blush went deep red, his eyes snaking over your form, landing at your drenched pussy, moving his eyes just for a moment at your hardened nipples.

“Please what?” Your face was one of hardened stone, minutes away from bending him over and punishing him until he cried if he didn’t call you by your proper name in the next five seconds.

“Please my queen! Fuck me!”

You gripped his throat even harder, moving him over to the bed lined with silk sheets and white covers. You threw him onto it, flipping him over to appreciate his ass. You gripped it hard, giving it a little spank. You simply couldn’t help yourself, and you made a mental side note to fuck it later until he was whimpering under your weight.

You flipped him over once more, straddling his perfect thighs and placing his hands on your tits. “Squeeze my nipples, my little prince.”

Of course he did as he was told and his hands sent shocks through your body. You moved his knee up, slowly grinding your clit against it. You bit your lip, letting out a little moan as he continued to palm your breasts. “I love you, sweet boy. I love you so much.”

“I love you more tha-'' before he could get the words completely out, you softly pressed your lips to his, nothing like the desperate kiss only minutes before. This time, it was tender, it was soft, but it also contained all the words you wanted to say.

I love you.

I’d do anything for you.

I’d kill for you.

I’d die for you.

As you pulled away, you gripped his hard cock and slowly lowered yourself onto him, promoting a loud moan from his lips. “Does this feel good, baby?”

His head tilted back, grabbing your thighs tightly enough to leave marks. You’d let him. If anyone was to see, it would only be further proof you owned each other. And the bruises around his neck would be proof you especially owned him. He could conceal them with magic, but he wouldn’t. During council meetings and social gatherings, he’d press against them so he could feel what you did to him the previous night.

Before he could get his answer out, you slowly started riding him, almost teasing him. In response, he fingers teased your nipples, twisting and rubbing them slowly. You reached his full length, and realized you probably weren’t going to keep your calmness for much longer.

You leaned your body completely against his, wrapping your arms around him and riding him with abandon. “You’re a fucking goddess- you’re - you’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he breathlessly remarked.

His length completely filled you up, and as always, was stretching you out. Sometimes you thought you couldn’t handle it, but eventually you regained your control and pressed your hands around him, enveloping him to completion. You bounced back and forth on his dick, crying out in unison with him, already on the brink. You were pulsing against his thickness, but you didn’t want to cum just yet, if only to tell him not to.

“Goddess, can I?” At this point, his words were just sounds and you didn’t know if you could reply without moaning your words out.

“Can you what?” you let out.

“Can I cum?  Please?” The last word was just a plea, and you knew he’d do anything just to cum, to release inside of you and have you dripping with his cum.

“Yes, that’s what you want. You want me to cum against your cock and make me leak with your cum. Tell me that’s what you want,” you growled.

“Yes! That’s what I want!” he started, thrusting with you as if he couldn’t handle it anymore. “I want you fill you up, I want my cum all over your thighs, I want-”

“Cum for me!”

At those words, you both cried out as you slammed his shoulders onto the bed, bouncing up and down and taking both your orgasm and his.

The orgasm you had previously was nothing compared to this. You were all filled up, cumming against his cock without abandon. You could feel him shooting inside of you, you could see his hands ripping at the bedsheets as he moaned in pleasure, which only built the orgasm, stars exploding in your eyes.

You both were breathless, panting against each other's bodies. For a minute, you couldn’t move, the pleasure finally ebbing from your body, but then Loki was flipped on top of you, stroking his dark curls and kissing his forehead.

You could feel how tired he was, how tired you made him, and you commanded the collar back to your hand, locking it against his throat. “Thank you,” he said, biting his lip and looking into your eyes.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

“I love you more than words could possibly say.”

[l-r-christian]

One-Shot: Male Reader Is Hope's Fraternal Twin Brother, And Is Ignored By The Mikaelsons. Because He Is Born Human( He Isn't But His True Nature Didn't Awake Yet).

It Left Him Filled Wit Loneliness, And Anger At His Family, And Twin. One Day, While Walking In The Woods Getting Home He Gets Attacked By A Vampire, And It Causes Him To Awake His True Nature As A Hellhound.

He Kills The Vampire, And It Leaves Him With Shock That He Isn't Human, And Is Happy He's Not Vulnerable.

So Y/n Gets Home, And The Mikealsons Aren't Home, Y/n Decides To Leave And Train Himself To His Full Potential.

Freya And Hope Can't Track Him Down Due To Y/n Being Immune To Anything Witch Related.

Yo dudes Imma make this so sad just angst though and though. I also did a bit of mixing of Teen Wolf's Hellhound and some of my own ideas.

Warnings: Heavy angst

Human was what Y/N was unlike his younger twin Hope who was in all sense all powerful. Ever since their birth Y/N was over shadowed by Hope as he didn't understand when it happen but his family began to ignore him and favor Hope. As the once proud Klaus showing off his first born son was now ignored his son and all his attention was on Hope.

"Not now Y/N, Hope needs my help." Was what Y/N heard over the years as he got older, now while Hope took after Hayley. Y/N was more like their father than anyone care to notice as the boy loved art like his father, had mostly Klaus's features but more dangerously Y/N inherited Klaus's temper something Marcel learned the hard.

"Y/N is only human Marcel. He can't harm you." Rebekah told the vampire after Marcel had told her that the boy had stabbed him the throat with a butter knife. At age seventeen now Y/N was used to being alone and having anger for his family how they seemly pretend he wasn't a Mikaelson.

"Where ya going kiddo?" Marcel asked seeing the teen putting on his shoes and had his backpack with him. Y/N looked at the vampire with a glare as Marcel was used to the anger in the boys eyes and mentally cursed the Mikaelsons for not keeping an eye on boy as there was nothing more dangerous than an angry Mikaelson with nothing to lose.

"Why would you care? Do yourself a favor and stop caring for the useless Mikaelson." Y/N tells Marcel anger bleeding though his words as he left the compound and headed for the woods. The woods was where Y/N spent most of his time to draw or to let his anger out but like his father he still held onto it. Y/N sat drawing weird circles that he had been seeing in his dreams lately then got up seeing it was getting dark and as he walked home he was attacked by two vampires.

"Man Klaus is going to pay. And what better way than to drain his kid and leaving the body on his door step."

"Yeah I guess he should have kept a better eye on the weakling." The vampire holding Y/N said and a flood of anger filled Y/N just as the vampire sank his fangs into the boy's neck when there was a sudden burning. The vampire let the boy go pushing roughly as he screamed and Y/N watch the vampire burst into flames.

"What do you do to my friend brat." Vampire two growled grabbing Y/N by his throat and the boy growled deeply as his eyes flashed red. The anger of years being ignored and loneliness was let loose as Y/N tore the heart from the vampire's chest. As things calmed down Y/N was surprised and stared as his hands as happiness bubbled in his chest as he realized he wasn't useless and maybe his family would care for him again.

"Dad! Mom!" Y/N shouted running into the compound with a grin that fell as he noticed he could hear everything but his family. Y/N found they left him so he made up his mind grabbing a bigger backpack his packed his things and didn't bother to leave a note.

"Fine I'll leave and get stronger without them if they don't want me then fine." Y/N growled as he left his childhood home not looking back. Two months, it took two months for someone in the family to notice that Y/N wasn't around but they brushed it off as the human boy was with Marcel but no he was in the mountains of Montana with an older man that Y/N ran into his week away from home. The man whose name was Alias, was an Hellhound that was almost as old as the boy's family and Alias took the boy in trained him to control his hound form and hellfire which when Y/N learned he could do that the boy was excited.

"Calm yourself pup." Alias told him as he had the boy sit in front of a fire the first day of training. At first Alias was annoyed with Y/N at first but the boy grew on him and the older Hellhound became a father figure to Y/N.

"Hey Al why are in the mountains?" Y/N asked following the man.

"Going to train you in the cold so you could control molten lava veins. From there we are going to wake your full potential, pup."

"Why the cold?"

"Can't risk you burning yourself until you get control." Alias tells Y/N as they came up to a cabin. While in New Orleans Hope and Freya was trying to find the older twin with a locater spell but so far they came up with nothing.

"Where could he be Elijah?" Klaus growled pacing angry that his first born was gone. Elijah watched Klaus closely while Kol called Davina to come help.

"I understand you are upset Niklaus but we will find the boy." Elijah said as Hayley came in crossing her arms.

"The wolves lost his scent just out of the city." Hayley said getting everyone's attention as they hoped they could find the boy soon. A year passed and Y/N had unlocked his full potential and had bested Alias many times in training. But sadly the boy's father figure had passed and Alias had passed his family Crest to the boy asking him to spead his ashes in New Orleans.

"Don't worry about me, pup. You'll fine as you are strong." Alias told Y/N the night he passed as their foreheads touched and in his honor Y/N howled and swore he hear othe Hellhounds howled too. Y/N walked though the streets of New Orleans carrying the urn holding Alias's ashes while on his way home Y/N had ran into other Hellhounds apologize for his lost and if he needed anything they were happy to help.

"Y/N?" Y/N heard Hope's voice and he turned saw his sister who shocked to see him. Y/N was no long thin and kinda scrawny, he was now lean with muscles with five a clock shadow on his nice jaw line.

"Hope." Y/N said his tone not welcoming surprising Hope as she eyes looked at the urn in his arms. Someone called out for Hope making her turn to see who it was then looked back to find Y/N gone and pulled out her phone calling Hayley.

"Mom, I found Y/N."

"May you find peace dad." Y/N said speading Alias's ashes in the bayou at a cabin the old hound had and left to Y/N.

"Here I thought I was your father?" Klaus said smirking stepping out from the tree line and Y/N looked over his shoulder seeing his father.

"You stopped being my father when I turned six." Y/N said looking back out at the lake as Klaus frowned watching his son. There was something was different about his son and Klaus couldn't put his finger on it but he was going to find out. Y/N was annoyed that suddenly his family would come out to see him while just shut them out and they still didn't know he was a Hellhound.

"How you have fallen hybrid. Your son hates you and now your dau ......." the vampire was cut off by a huge black hound jumped on his chest growling as it tore his thoat out. The hound had glowing orange eyes as it growled killing the rest of the vampires saving Hope and Klaus.

"Is it a wolf, dad?" Hope asked watching the hound look back at them as something about it was haunting.

"No. It is bigger than a wolf." Klaus said as it ran off and both followed it to find it was Y/N come morning.

"Fuck." Y/N muttered rolling his sore shoulders as he still wasn't used to shifting at night going inside to take a cold shower to cool down. Y/N sat down studying a few old books he gotten on his travels as his door opened and Klaus walked in with Elijah and Hayley following.

"Yes please come in Klaus." Y/N said annoyed not looking up from his book.

"You have failed to me you are a Hellhound."

"Because it was none of your business. I made it clear I want nothing to do with any of you."

"Then why come home?"

"If you must know Hayley, I am carrying after my father as protector." Y/N told Hayley there was anger in his voice as Elijah saw the anger in the young Hellhound's eyes that reminded the older Original of Klaus.

"Protector?"

"Yeah, now If you excuse me I got work to do." Y/N said walking out leaving them as they realize they had years of anger and loneliness to undo from the young man unsure if Y/N will ever forgive the family.

[verus-veritas]

Legacy

Revenge, Technology, Mind Transference, with a dash of unrequited love. What’s not to love? /Verus

"Dude! P-please! I'm sorry! Whatever you think I've done, it must all be a mistake!" Andew yelled, thrashing against his confinements and eyeing the only point of exit in the room. His firm muscles were wet and taut against his clothes, and his handsome face flush red with terror and worry.

"Are you really sorry though? It didn't seem like it from the way you acted during Gavin's funeral. The sneers and laughter you made as his parents said their final words to him..." I said, hiding in the shadows. Only my feet and the contours of my body was visible for him to see.

"N-no offense. I just found it funny when the parents said they wish he'd atleast gotten a girlfriend before he passed away-" The same devious sneer returned on his perfectly handsome face, as he most likely remembered the scene in his head.

"Of course you found it funny. Because you knew he was completely gay. Gay, and had a massive crush on you for ages. He literally worshipped the ground you walked on, and spent most of his waking hours wishing he could be with you." I explained, slowly walking around him as I pulled out a flimsy latex cap with electronical nodes attached to it.

"And I let him. I did no wrong." Andrew talked back. His eyes following my figure until I stood directly behind him.

"No! You lead him on, made him believe you were actually interested in him. And then you destroyed him. You are the reason he ran out of the house crying, and you are the reason he didn't see the truck speeding towards him!" My voice was shaking as I quickly slapped the cap onto his head, accidentally pulling out a few strands of his hair.

"Ouuch! Get this thing off me!" He shook his head and began thrashing about again.

"You know. He really loved you... He said he was going to make you the happiest man on earth. Showering you with gifts and undying love, and be by your side forever and ever. That's why he trusted you so wholeheartedly and let you do whatever you wanted."

"Naive..." He quietly muttered under his breath.

"He was even fine with you staring and drooling over other girls. As long as he could stay by your side."

"What a fag..." I could hear him gritting his teeth.

"But that evening when you invited him over, only to have him find you in the bedroom hooking up with a random girl... that completely ruined him. You shattered his dream, his self-confidence, and his sensitive soul! He didn't know what to do and where to go, which is why he ran straight out into the traffic..." My voice was uncontrollably going up and down now, as I was unable to hide my emotions.

"Dude only had himself to blame. He should've known I only had him around for the free stuff he bought for me." Andrew snickered, as he looked down at the expensive shorts Gavin had bought for him a few weeks prior.

"How dare you!" I tried to punch his shoulder, but knew I was too weak to do any real damage against his hard muscles.

"Y'know... it almost sounds like you had feelings for him- Wait a minute! You're that pastry white kid that always walked around with him aren't you?! Hah! 'Ghost boy' we called you!" The tone in his voice shifted - with more confidence and arrogance. Back to the way he normally talked - a manipulative bastard at heart. "I see. So you best friend Gavin never had feelings for you, and now that he's gone you blame yourself for not having stopped him."

"......" I clenched my hands till my knuckles turned white.

"Hah! Maybe you really were a horrible friend. Have you thought about that you might be the reason he's dead?" He laughed, obviously enjoying the way he was toying with my feelings.

"...you have no idea..." I mumbled, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Maybe you should be the one sitting in this chair - tied up and wearing this stupid cap on your head. Hehe."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, before walking around him once again and turning so he could see me. See the real me... one last time. "I will. Soon."

"W-what do you mean with that? And why are you also wearing that ridiculous cap?" He asked. His tone in voice once again becoming panicked and anxious.

"You see. The reason why I'm so pale is because I spend so much time at home playing with my inventions and devices. Coding is one of my favorite things to do. And for the last few months I've relentlessly been working on creating this device we're both wearing right now. It was originally only meant to be used on you, recoding the patterns in your brain into loving Gavin as much as he loved you. While also erasing all of your bad traits and turning you into his ideal boyfriend... but there's no reason for that anymore, is there? So, I upgraded it into 2.0, which can now be used with two people."

"P-pff... yeah right... and what does this new version do then?"

"It can transfer the consciousness between two human brains. Even recoding the brain into believing the new consciousness have always been in control of its own body. All the memories, habits, and even muscle memory will be easily accessible to the new permanent owner." I explained, as I began fiddling with a machine by our side. The nodes on our caps lit up.

"Permanent?! Wait a minute. Let's say all of this freaky sci-fi stuff is actually real, what's going to happen to my consciousness?" Andrew asked, as he began to get more anxious by the beeping sound of the nodes on his head.

"All gone. Overwritten by mine. Erased out of existence with no way of restoring it." I answered nonchalantly. Flicking the last switched around, the device was now ready to be activated.

"What the fuck! Then you're basically killing me?! Get me out of here, you sick freak!" He began violently thrashing against the back of the chair, and flung his head around to get the latex cap off... but to no avail.

"Am I really though? Your memories, your body, and your relationships will all still be here, under my complete control. I'm just... discarding a small part of you that's no longer necessary."

"No...no... Help! HELP! SOMEONE!! THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER IS GOING TO KILL ME!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, but the soundproofed walls would do him no good.

I flicked the final switch and walked over to him as the machine began buzzing. Standing in front of him, I suddenly sat down on his lap and grabbed hold of his face. I stared into his fearful yet piercing blue eyes and slid my hands across the cheeks and contours of his face.

"This beautiful face of yours that Gavin loved, I promise I'll take good care of it and cherish it until the day I die. It's the least I can do to honor my friend Gavin." I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his sweaty forehead, while holding him in place as he screamed for all he was worth.

"No! Noo! NOoO-Uoogguuughhhh" His scream turned into a gurgle as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. At the same time, my eyes went white and hazy as my pastry body slumped over and fell on the cement floor. Most likely cracked open its head or something from the sound of it.

"NgOOuoouughhgguuuhh!!!" Andrew's head flung back and forth as if to fight whatever was invading his head, but it barely took a minute before the thrashing suddenly stopped and his head slumped down.

His eyes were closed, his face flushed red from exertion, and the sweat and drool pooled down onto his expensive shorts. A further five minutes of stillness and blinking nodes passed before any activity was seen.

---

*Gasp*

I awoke to the cap on my head giving me a quick electric shock. In front of me laid my old withered body, lifeless and without a doubt stone dead. My throat felt dry and tired, and the ties on my arms hurt like hell. In fact, everything felt, looked, and smelt different. The smell oozing from my sweaty clothes that once smelt great now stunk in my nose. I could recall from Andrew's memories that he showered atleast twice a day. I showered atleast twice a day.

After some fiddling with the special knots in my back, I easily slipped the rope off. Massaging the sore parts on my wrist, I soon relished in how big and strong my new hands looked now. Hands who should've been holding Gavin's...

I explored further up till I reached my new bulging biceps. Squeezing them I felt how firm and taut they were. I never in a million years would have managed to get myself this big, but here I was, standing in the body of a perfect specimen. The body of the man who my friend loved, but who didn't truly love him back. If only I could've done this before Gavin died... Would he have loved me instead, or would he have hated me for what I had done? Well, atleast he would've been alive.

My focus went to my Andrew face, as I caressed the blemish-free skin and the small stubble forming on it. The face of the man I had hated for a while, the face of the man whose identity I would have to take over, and the face I would see in the mirror for as long as I breathed. It was one of the most handsome faces I've ever laid my eyes on no doubt, so I'm perfectly fine with that decision.

My hands continued to explore what was now mine; running fingers through my lush but wet hair, following the outline of my cobblestone abs, and shaking my strong and muscular legs awake from sitting too long.

Not long after I finally slipped the drool and sweat-soaked shorts off myself and watched as the tool between my legs arose to its new owner. It might not have been as long as my former one, but the very girth of it made up for it. As I enveloped it between my palms, I realized that no one had ever been as intimate with Andrew's tool as I was now, and no one would ever be. Not even Gavin would if he was somehow resurrected. Only I, Andrew would ever know how this throbbing member would feel in my own hands, the endorphins and pleasure its touch would send throughout my amazing body, and the ultimate earth-shattering orgasms I would experience as I edge myself to climax every day from now on.

The very thought of it immediately brought me to the brink of orgasm, so I quickly spread my legs apart and thrust the member fully through my grasp. It was all that was needed as I suddenly began shaking with pleasure and exploded shot after shot of Andrew seed all over the floor, myself and my former lifeless body."Ugh! Uuuugh! UUUuOOGggHH!!"

“.... Holy shit.....” I moaned, slightly shocked by the unfamiliarity of the new voice coming from my throat.

Reeling from my first ever orgasm in my new body and life, I sat back down on the chair and took a breather. I was sweaty, my crotch sticky, and my armpits stunk. Yet, I know I still looked glorious. How couldn't I? After all, I am Andrew. The man who Gavin loved, and who loved him back just as much, if not even more...

I will dedicate this new life of mine to worship and care for this body just as much as Gavin would have. His legacy, Andrew's body and life, and my consciousness have finally become one... and I promise I will carry them with pride and confidence to the grave... even if it is the only thing I will accomplish in this short insignificant life of mine.

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[jiminrings]

petition for stem koo to do all the things for oc he originally said no one does (make her lunchboxes, makes her cheerful...) bc i think that’s a beautiful redemption arc

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook's day one of his redemption agenda doesn't go that well in the end

"namjoon!!! my man. got any updates for me?"

seokjin strolls coolly on the way to his office, hair slicked back and his dress shirt definitely missing more than a few buttons

what's head admin gonna do??? dress-code him???

fire him???? PLS HE'D BE BETTER OFF!!!!

jin makes student affairs his bitch,,, not the other way around

"for the last time, i am nOt your secretary!!" namjoon stresses as he ceases his typing just to glare at him

he's the university registrar and everyone needs to go through him and at this point he's like a historical landmark from how he's made impact in less than two years

and he and seokjin graduated from the same batch!!!! they're the uncanny always pair for the subjects they shared together

it was definitely weird but functional lol cause one is uptight yet hardworking and the other's relaxed yet smart

sue them for working in the same place they swore they'd never go back to after graduation </3

"if you say-"

"some kid's been waiting for you even before i opened the office. made him sit inside but i just told him that he'd be expelled if he even tries to touch your coffee machine."

namjoon says even before jin could finish the sentence, clearly holding that in until the last minute

jin's obviously a lil annoyed because he's starting work as early as now but the way that joon laid all that out on him is a highlight for him

"thanks. knew you're a secretary for me first and a registrar second."

"no. i'm a national citizen before-"

alright alright he's not listening anymore

this bETTER be important because jin has to hold out his morning routine for whoever this kid is

"what can i possibly do for you today?" he rubs his eyes in preparation, intentionally dragging his steps because just looking at how near he is to his work computer gives him vertigo

"mr. kim!!!"

no

there is no way

there is no fATHOMABLE way that this has got to be happening to seokjin right now

"..... jungkook. what a pleasure."

he sits on his chair, voice gritted and monotone and he could just feel his eye twitching, his clenched fist under his deck now flipping off the kid in secret

it's a last-minute realization that he grasps that jungkook doesn't know you're his friend and it presents some really unique vantage points

like the time that seokjin recounted about a ridiculous student's filing for theft of his lunchboxes and he turned out to be your crush

or when he used his student affairs capabilities and pulled up resources left and right when jungkook broke your heart then seriously contemplated about messing up his academic record

or that time when he delivered a high and sleepy you to bed and then heard the entire conversation (if you could even call it that) between yoongi and this fucking nerd

"i need your help, mr. kim. you're the closest one to me i could ask!!" jungkook pleads desperately, the big doe eyes not really inducing an effect on him whatsoever lmao

"mhmm. i may not be the person for the job. counseling is right next door."

jin hums without even attempting to get jungkook to elaborate because for all he knows, his services aren't exactly open for people who hurt his friends >:(

(a guy once bumped shoulders with yoongi twice on the same day with aTTITUDE!!! and seokjin just dismissed the dude's concerns when a prof of his, who's a buddy of jin's, suddenly gave him an F)

seokjin IS student affairs

“no, no. you’re the only one who can help me!! you see, i-i just feel this brotherly connection with you and-“

“we talked once.”

god what did you used to see in this kid??

a crybaby aND an easily-attached personality to him? god it’s like jungkook’s just asking jin to pick on him

jungkook doesn’t seem to pick up how jin’s making it obvious he really doesn’t want to be of help if it has something to do with him

he likes interrupting and jin’s just the perfect match to interrupt him even earlier so now they just sound like one of those dubsmash snippets

“MR. KIM!!! how do you make lunchboxes? i don't know how.”

jeez where are his manners :O aren’t nerds like him supposed to worship the ground that admins walk on,,,

but what did pique his attention is the content of what jungkook just said

.... lunchboxes?

jin doesn’t want to give the kid benefit of the doubt because the last time he did that, you got hurt!!!!

if he has to hear hyeji’s name one more time, he’d really waste no time in stripping jungkook’s name from the honor roll

“remember that time i thought someone was stealing my lunchboxes?” he quizzes jin like it’s his job, clueless how he’s poking the bear even more with where he decides to go with this, “yeah. turns out no one was.”

was that not made clear the first time around!!!!!! he knows for a fact that a uni student would trade a classmate for a pack of gum but nO ONE would go for stealing a lunchbox

no one wakes up one day and decides that they’d steal a lunchbox. literally none

“but then this random girl claimed that it was hers a-and well i-...”

kook pauses to gauge jin’s reaction, clearly seeing now the one brow that’s raised at him

oh so if jungkook just asked him how to make a lunchbox, and he called h-word random,,,, then that would mean-

“i may have hurt the original giver of my lunchboxes at the process.”

.... that means he’s asking how to make a lunchbox for you

well that was a pleasant surprise

seokjin snorts briefly at that, dryly chuckling with his eyes widening to stress out his “non-threat” that’s pretty mUCH a threat

“wow. i might just give you a sanction for that.”

does he think jungkook’s a good person? lol he has to think about that for a month

was he wrong for hurting you that way? ultimately yes

but did he think at some point that jungkook’s completely heartless and wouldn’t try to redeem himself to his senior? no, not completely

but is he still on your team, regardless if the kid begs for mercy and you forgive him? yea a hundred percent :D yoongi and seokjin could never be brought out from your circle

"and you're doing this why?"

this is a no-brainer question for jungkook but the question still spooks him, feeling the chills at his neck that responding to seokjin is like a sTEPPING STONE when it comes to you

lmao if only he knew

"i uh, i just really wanna make this right. i messed up completely and it's pretty much unforgivable, but i atleast wanna try and give my best even if she doesn't forgive me, y'know?"

interesting

"mhmm. right, right."

???

he's still mad but he appreciates that jeon's doing the bare minimum of redeeming himself

speaking of, the poor kid looks like he's pissing himself because he may have just embarrassed himself with how long the silence stretches out

maybe,,, just maybe jin's gonna try and be a bridge this time

but like as soon as jungkook lacks for a fourth of a second, seokjin would BURN that bridge faster than a blink

"well first of all, you buy a lunchbox."

RIGHT RIGHT

:O

jungkook grabs a literal pocket notebook and jin pretends he didn't see that because WHO the hell does that!!!!

"of course... okay, proceed!! i'm taking notes," jungkook nods in understanding, jotting down the very important advice of not ordering from online because you can't smell the material through a screen

p.s. smelling containers before you buy them is a VITAL thing to do!! it already tells you about the quality at the first sniff

"are you buying one?"

"buying one for every day of the week. i'm thinking if i should get extras too-

"good idea. i recommend buying eight."

alright seokjin's mentioning some very specific colors and schemes and jungkook's not complaining!!!

MAYBE HE'S ONTO SOMETHING!!!

"what meals should i make? i don't even know what she likes!! and even if i knew what, how would i make it?"

why is his heart racing

yoongi may have taught you how to do your taxes but jin taught you how to cook food that's more than four steps!!!

he taught you how to not flinch at all when you're frying and that's the equivalent of raising you to be the woman that you are now <3

look at him and yoongi being your best friends!! teaching you about taxes and being unnerved at cooking oil and busting out a smoke ring or two <3

in fact, the lunches you've cooked for jungkook are all inspired and derived by seokjin!!!

the fact that jungkook's plan isn't bad and the way everything pieces together with his insight,,,, goosebumps luv

"....hypothetically? what i think she'd like?"

jungkook eagerly nods with stars in his eyes, fingers gripping onto his pen for dear life as he tries to channel all his listening techniques into this lecture

"get a bigger notepad."

:O

wow

"look at you!!" yoongi gushes the moment he sees you, waiting at you from the front door

you're going back to your classes again :D

you don't look as worse as you did four days ago!! you're not as sluggish and as animated too

"please don't," you snort as yoongi doesn't seem to stop looking at you like you've saved the world, giving no fight when he insists on carrying your backpack to your first class of the day

the past four days,, yeah they were undoubtedly rough

you slept as much as you could and for the moments you weren't dejected enough to be awake, you spent it surrounding yourself with seokjin and yoongi as much as possible

that's the beauty of hanging out them!!! you're not required to have a single thought lmao

except for the time when yoongi wondered aloud how eels even live and die (or if they even do???) in the first place and that sent everyone in a spiral and you didn't think of jungkook for a single seconds

you're not intimidated to go back to regular programming or with the fact that it's nOT unlikely you'd see a glimpse of jungkook in the hall and such

but that does mean that even if you're the bigger person, you're still gonna avoid him for as long as you could

speaking of!!!! you're looking for the person now that you're eager to find

"taehyung!!"

there he is :D you'd recognize that fluffy mop of permed hair anywhere

"y/n!!"

tae jumps over chairs in excitement to finally see you again after being so worried for you, engulfing you in a hug immediately

alright you see why yoongi thinks he's a golden retriever

you're clearly not a touchy-feely person but you'd let this one pass,, tae helped you (even indirectly) throughout your downtime anyways

"thank you so much for the cookies. i tried taking smaller bites just because i didn't wanna have them disappear that easy," you confess sheepishly, knowing how you had to pull the i just got my heart broken like two days ago multiple times so the two menaces would stop stealing from your stash

:D

jungkook's excited!!!! seokjin may have given him a tip that "he felt it in his gut" that you were gonna go to class today

he came a little late because he wanted to perfect the very loaded lunchbox that's in his backpack right now

oh weird

you're not in your usual chair

bUT jungkook sees a glimpse of your hair and he's certain that you're there and his heart may be beating out of his ribcage

a baby peach lunchbox with a sticker (of what seokjin said he thought you'd like) on the middle of the lid :D

pork katsudon with furikake rice aND coffee jelly pudding on the side!!! it was definitely pressure-racking to strictly adhere to jin's recipe but god does it look worth it

jungkook's only did miniature taste tests on it and he had to stop himself from devouring the lunch that he's made specifically for you

the lunchbox itself is tied neatly with a silk wrap, adding his touch of sewing your name visibly on it aND there's a scribble taped to the lid too

god jungkook really can't wait to make it up to you

sheesh that was one of THEE longest lectures you've ever felt you had

it was actually the same amount of time it's always been but maybe you've been out of practice from just staying at your dorm for days

tae's great company but he could be a little bit chatty!!! you just nod when you feel his voice go up and he apparently gets excited by that easily

.... he apparently also has a small bladder and he told you that within the whole hour of class

"hold on. i gotta pee before next period. go without me!!!' taehyung hurriedly slings his backpack to his arm, looking ridiculous in a rush

tae's sometimes unintentionally funny because you don't even share next period anyways

you're on your way to the exit when a shiny scarf catches the corner of your eye, having to squint at it because wow does it look pretty

is that-

is that your nAME???

you pick it up before you could even rationalize it, realizing then what it was wrapping when you feel the warmth on your hands

:")

"sorry i forgot my headband!!!"

taehyung stumbles back into the room, catching his breath to run back to his seat and fetch the headband he took from his hair to play with awhile ago

he looks shocked to see what's on your hands, flicking his gaze between you and the item but he doesn't think much of it

wOW that's a really shiny scarf!!!

"tae?"

"hmm yeah? what's up?"

he's about to jog back to the comfort room because he hasn't really relieved himself yet, not bearing to leave his headband in the room when anyone could snatch it up

you raise your lunchbox, a thankful gaze on your eyes that looks so close to crying which is why tae's mORE than lost now

"thanks for the lunch."

..

.....

jungkook could only helplessly watch.

[leetotters]

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

[scarofthewind]

Touch at Midnight || Vampire!Brahms x Reader

A/N: This took so long, I am sure half of you forgot about this mini series I did. I’m sorry this took forever, I was just trying to make it perfect as well as work on requests too. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, breast worship, blood kink, biting, oral (m receiving), dom!brahms, rough sex, no prep, reader is under mind control so consensual/non-consensual, mentions of masturbation, plenty foul/dirty talk, creampie

word count: 2.01k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Mini Series Masterlist

There was a time in your life that you thought you’d live past eighty and get to watch your children, grand-children and even great-grand-children, grow up. There was a time that you believed in the world being a decent place and that you would make your mark on it one day. Now, you realized just how delusional it all sounded. Now, you knelt before a man you thought you knew, thought you would grow old with, thought you would love forever, your life dangling before you with nothing to spare. 

When you had met Brahms, you never thought anything of him; just that he was a strange man who liked to keep to himself. You’d applied for a job to work under him; to cook, clean and care for him, as though he couldn’t do it himself. During the first few months of your duties, things were tense with you being new and Brahms really trying to understand what kind of woman you were. However, as the months went on into years, you slowly became drawn to the man, often times thinking of him from dusk until dawn. 

Your mistake really.

See, you had no clue that he was a monster; something only silly children believed in. He was soft and gentle before you’d found out- another mistake on your part. Now he stared down at you with dark eyes that were once directed towards you with such kindness and joy that you almost fell for it; you did fall for it the more you realize. You fell for a man with no remorse for taking a human life, a man that could kill you with just one movement, a man that you didn’t know. Those thoughts alone nearly killed you. 

You’d been sitting on the floor in front of his chair he had in the corner of the library, the moon peeking through the window curtains and casting a small amount of light towards his feet. His eyes were the only thing you could see on his face here in the dark; red with an anger so hot you had to pray he’d have mercy on you. You don’t know how long you’d been like this, unable to move as he stared down at you without moving an inch. The hair on your skin rose when he finally spoke, slow but sharp, “You had to be nosey, didn’t you?” Your lips trembled as you contemplated speaking. “I truly had no intention of ever hurting you; you did your work around the house wonderfully. Dare I say that you were the best at it?”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the confirmation of other caretakers before you, all of which were most likely dead. They probably got too comfortable too and went looking around in places that were off limits for a reason. Like his bedroom; where you remember finding a trunk full of blood bags from the hospital down the road. “Please,” you whimpered, watching him blink before shaking his head, silencing you. 

“I’ve spent years in that pretty little head of yours, listening to everything. I know all of your secrets, (Y/N).” You sucked in a breath as he leaned forward in his chair, hovering over your face with a look that only made you want to cower even more. “I’m honored to know how fond you were of me, truthfully I am. I’d grown fond of you as well, but,” he clicked his tongue, reaching out and grabbing your jaw roughly, ignoring your whimpers of pain. “You know too much.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone I swear! Just let me go and I’ll leave tow-” you were cut off by a sharp laugh; Brahms’ eyes wild and manic. 

“Leave? No, no, no, you’re never leaving me.” His eyes were intense, red as the flames of hell and staring into your own without so much as blinking. “Here are your options; be my personal blood bank until you die, which is usually a couple of weeks, or, prove to me that you’re worth keeping alive. Of course, both require you to stay here with me,” Brahms touched your cheek gently with his other hand, moving some hair from your eyes. 

“You know I care about you, don’t you (Y/N)? Don’t you want to stay with me?” His words had an effect on your mind that made it hard to think. The world seemed to slow, as if you’d been drugged, but you knew that it was just the power he had, manipulating your mind to believe that whatever he said was true. You could feel tears fall from your eyes as you stared into his condemning ones, a soft hush falling from his lips as he wiped the tears away. 

It was wrong for you to say yes, you knew it even though you couldn’t stop it. Yet, some dark part inside of you almost wished he would keep you this way; brain being manipulated by whatever he wanted for the rest of your days. At least that way, you could imagine everything being right; you could day dream on the thoughts he forced inside your head. One’s where you end up with him, one’s where your happy.

One’s where he loved you just as much as you loved him.

This isn’t love, you thought as you made yourself sit up enough to press your lips against his. 

This isn’t what I wanted, you told yourself when he spread his legs in the chair and you unzipped his pants. 

This wasn’t how I was supposed to live, you cried as his fingers moved through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his cock.

All you could do was prove to him that your life meant more than just being used as food. The buck of his hips every time you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock made your eyes sting, the length making it hard to take all of it in your mouth. “You look so pretty like this,” Brahms gasped as he felt you take more of his member in your mouth, his eyes scanning your face and his mind going a mile a minute. He knew everything you were thinking as he pushed more ideas into your head, his control on you something he wished he’d never have to do. 

A lulling tug of tiredness waved in the back of his head, knowing that he hadn’t gotten to eat tonight because of the unfortunate incident of you finding his real food supply in his room. Of course, fresh blood always tasted so much better than the crap he had in bags. Brahms felt himself grow bored of watching you try to make him come, you jaw surely was hurting by now. Roughly grabbing your hair, he pulled you off his cock before standing up and pulling you up with him. You barely could get a word out as he turned you facing the front of the shiny, black piano, bending you down to where your front half was pressed against the cool surface. 

He wasted no time in ripping your clothes off of you, throwing them around the room and spreading your legs for his wandering eyes to see. A low growl made your cunt clench as he watched your juices build at your entrance where he drug the tip of his cock across. Brahms gave you no warning before sinking inside you to the base, the air practically taken from your lungs as he began moving immediately, your tight walls getting him off perfectly. “Do you know how many nights I wanted to do this?” He asked as he thrusted his hips roughly, the tip of his cock ramming against your cervix with no signs of easing up. “I’ve watched you, my innocent, precious (Y/N). Your fingers stuffing this filthy whole of yours as you squirm in bed, trying to cum.”

You can feel your walls tighten around his length at his words, your hands trying to grip the flat surface of the piano from the force he was jostling you around with. Your breasts bounced wildly, his hands coming up from your hips to find purchase there. His fingers pinched your nipples, twisting them and pulling until you were soaking his cock in your juices. “Did you know I was watching you touch yourself? I bet you did; you liked it didn’t you? Having someone else watch you fuck yourself until your tired...hmm?” 

“N-No,” you groan, trying to reason with yourself, but the impending orgasm you felt building making it all the harder to. Quickly, Brahms moved you to where you were facing him, your back fully pressed against the piano as he fucked into you at an in-human pace. You couldn’t help the sounds that were coming out of your mouth, urging him to continue. 

“I know what’s in your mind, my love. I’ve seen you think of me while you squirt all over the sheets,” you tremble at his words as his thumb barely grazes your clit. His mouth moving to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and nibbling on it before teasing it with his tongue. With one sharp sting, he sinks his teeth into your breast, a short cry coming from your lips as he eases his hip movements while lapping at the blood pooling from the wounds. “If only you could see in my mind too. Then you could see just how man nights I’ve fucked my fist to the thoughts of this.” He chuckled to himself, licking his lips that were stained crimson. Pulling his head back, he stared down at you with something you didn’t recognize. 

The feeling was good though. Something positive out of the emotional negative you’d been put through. Brahms nearly stilled when you reached up and touched his face, his eyes watching yours for any signs of you trying to get away; all he found was sincerity. Running your fingers through his curly hair, you pressed his head down to yours where he kissed you without another word. From there, the sex was as beautiful as the day you first met him. Then, there had been sun, now there was the moon shining down on both of you. When he had first shaken your hand is was cold but now as he held yours, pinned above your head, it was all warm. 

His teeth managed to find your neck, biting there and feeding a couple of times but other than there, his lips never left yours which were swollen from the heatedness of the kiss. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers circled your clit, your thighs shaking from the intensity of the orgasm that proceeded to wash through you. Brahms made sure to hold you close, swallowing your gasps and cries of pleasure as he eased you through your orgasm. His cock twitched inside you a few more times before he finally came, deep inside you with no regrets. Everything was quiet for a minute, your lips molding against his and the soft pants leaving them was the only sound left. 

When he finally pulled away, you could see the glowing red of his eyes fade, returning to their normal hazel color and looking down at you with the kindness you had once known. His hands moved the hair out of your face and wiped away any tears that still fell, his fingers gentle against your skin. This may have been a different man to you now, but he was still the Brahms you’d fallen in love with years ago. 

That was enough to make you stay.