#and she must have such a twisted idea of love from growing up in the royal family where I’m sure there must have been fights over heirs

[thy-valhallen]

i like the idea that it's understood in the Batfam that Bruce has a favorite but no one's really sure who it is-- all of them have their own guesses, and it's never themselves (except Steph, who's here to laugh at their theories)

Dick is convinced it's Jason because of how he saw Jason's death destroy Bruce-- like, he knows Bruce would cry for all of them, mourn and all, but... well, he's pretty convinced Jason had a spot in their dad's heart a bit bigger than they did

Jason, if asked, will swear to hell and back it's Dick-- the Golden Boy, the perfect son, the one he had to compare himself to growing up. Secretly though? he thinks it's Tim. Tim, the best detective of all of them, the steadfast kid who stepped in to fix everything without the slightest bit of thanks or appreciation, the nerd who dedicated himself to their crusade with nothing to gain from it. who wouldn't favor that kid??

Tim has known since the first picture he ever took of Batman and Robin who the favorite was, and has never wavered. Dick Grayson, his first son, the one who's pain was reflected so sharply back at him in a twisted mirror that he had to take the kid in-- Dick was the one to bring the Dark Knight to life in the daytime. Dick is his everything-- the boy he loved enough to slow in his life's work to help. Tim was certainly never worth the time, but Dick? Dick is impossible not to love, and to love Dick Grayson is to love with your whole chest

Cass bases her guess off of Bruce's body language, not Batman's, and for that, she thinks it's Duke. Duke is softer than the rest of them, less sharp edges from a childhood shaped by misery or death, and Bruce is less of a drill sergeant with him for it. after all, Duke doesn't struggle with directions like the rest of the Batfam (he so does, he's just the best at hiding it), so he gets less of the terrified, furious leader and more of the tired, worried dad

Damian has no doubt in his mind it's Cass-- at first, because she's the best fighter, and therefore most deserving. she's far more skilled after all, so in this insane family where adopted children upend the hierarchy he knows, it must be dictated by skill, no? no, actually. but then, he sees how Bruce doesn't yell at her, the implicit trust he has in his daughter. the way that they're so very in-tune with one another, it's like looking at a man and his shadow. Cass has to be the favorite, because no one else can look him in the eyes with the same sort of heartbreak he has and comfort him without a word

Duke was an only child before joining the Waynes, so it was a shock to suddenly see sibling favoritism so blatantly when Bruce so carefully and kindly talked Damian down from a rant about his classmates in the middle of patrol. no one else would've been allowed to talk about something so personal and revealing on a Gotham rooftop. it was just continually proven from there; shoulder pats and hair ruffles answered with little scowls, utterances of "son" that were lost to shuffling capes and tiny smiles tucked away in darkness

[otaku553]

More reluctant king sabo au! I realized recently that this au is an excellent excuse for drawing sabo in pretty outfits that he would be absolutely miserable in :)

[shrenvents]

Spellbound

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, oral, fem receiving, unprotected, fluff, some violence, biting

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Witch reader

Summary: You're a witch with a specific skill set, one that has intrigued a certain hybrid.

Word count: 2.7k

...

Voodoo. Magic. Impulse. Obsession.

She was his newest fascination.

He heard her laughter cracking through the walls of the barren bar before it cut short. Klaus observed how the sunlight blazed across her, poorly parked, car. His lips slanted in mild amusement. He told himself, that’s all it was, all she was. Mild amusement for an immortal. Though, something felt different.

He strutted into the place, head hung high as he scanned the bare vicinity. His eyes halted on a man behind the bar, rinsing glass cups. The bartender's eyes adverted from Klaus, the second he caught his stare. The man's nerves were duly noted as Klaus approached him.

“I’ll have a glass of your finest red,” Klaus spoke artfully, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The worker shuddered. “Ug- we’re not serving right now.”

“No worries mate,” his mellifluous voice paused. “The red I fancy isn’t something I’d find on your menu.” The man's gaze shot up to Klaus’s. His lips trembled as Klaus continued his jest. “Unless you intend to provide me with a bite, I suggest you tell me where she’s hidden.” Klaus’s threat echoed through the building, till silence took its place.

Suddenly, the sound of a back door, opening and slamming shut jolted Klaus away from the bartender. He instantly raced to the door, ripping it open. He watched as her frame scattered into her rusted car. He growled. There was no way he'd let her escape once again...

Your body was convulsing with anxiety. Who were you to know a little magic truce with the “other side,” would have a certain hybrid on your front doorstep. It didn’t help when you levitated everything in your apartment at him, including your freshly made spaghetti with bolognese. It was to be expected, that would piss him off...

Yanking the car door shut, you forced the key in and started the engine.

“Where are we headed this time darling?”

“Ahhh!” You screamed, snapping your head to the uninvited passenger. Klaus sat leisurely beside you, and you swear your life flashed before your eyes. “I must say, I enjoyed our time in Chicago. Perhaps San Fran may be the next best thing, love.” His smug face adorned your features, absorbing the way your face contorted in both fear and frustration.

“Jesus,” you huff, and Klaus’s smirk grows. “As much as I love the idea, somehow becoming your personal chauffeur isn’t that appealing.” Klaus chuckles lowly, leaning in, more and more.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to run off, you crafty little thing," he drawls sweetly, "We wouldn’t have the pleasure.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, maybe I’d stick around.” Klaus’s brows twist like he's appalled by your words. “Who said I was interested in killing you?”

“You- I- then, what do you want?” You stammer. Klaus goes quiet. You watch as his expression goes blank before he acts as though he is in deep thought. Then, his mouth gaped in 'awe,' as if the answer suddenly came to him. “Your talents of course.”

“My talents.” You repeat, baffled.

“Yes, do keep up, my dear.”

“Why? You could have any witch at your disposal, at a moment's notice.”

The corner of his lips elevate once more. “I’m flattered.”

He’s become so close now, you feel his breath, and you try not to shiver as it grazes your neck. He, on the other hand, basks in your scent.

“But, unlike my other witches, you have a gift,” he muses. “Your connection with the dead is something to behold, and something I crave.”

After a prolonged silence, you speak. “If I help you with whatever," you move further into your seat, "When it comes to an end, you’ll let me walk away, unscathed?” Your brow quirks, and with every fibre of your being, you manage to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you have my word.” Klaus’s expression went stoic, holding an unflinching seriousness that made your heart rate stutter. And strangely, you knew you could trust him.

That's how you ended up as his lackey. For the past 5 weeks, you were at his beck and call as he tormented humans, werewolves, and vampires alike.

Like any other day, your conscious was eating away at you, as you called upon another ancestor of those he plagued. Today though, you finally broke. He had been cruelly punishing a guy for hours as you questioned his late brother, through the veil.

“That’s enough!” Klaus’s eyes darted to yours, and his angered appearance softened. Instinctively, he gripped your forearm and dragged you out of the motel room.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“What's wrong is that I’m tired, and his brother is telling me jack shit about those ‘hunters.’” You huff, closing your eyes.

Klaus firmly presses himself stock-still, resisting every urge that wishes to devour you, as you naively allow him to hold you so close, to let your guard down, to close your eyes. An urge that has worsened, and become insatiable since you started your venture together.

“Love, why don’t you grab a bite from the cafe across the street, while I fill up the car's tank?” He says heartfeltly, "That way we both can have a break."

Your eyes flutter open, and you nearly tremble at the gentle look that flickers in his gaze. However, his body language, which clutches you tightly, suggests he is anything but. “Okay.”

After five minutes seated alone in a booth, you gathered up the last of the courage you were trying to dispel. Now, headed back to the rented room, to release the hostage. Stupid, very stupid, you thought. But you couldn’t help it.

When you entered the room, the door slowly creaked shut, and shadows engulfed you. It was too quiet, and you couldn’t see the man. Unease filled your system, and you began to regret this decision. That impending regret soon became alarms going off when the captive gripped your torso, roughly caging in your arms. His grip was inescapable, and when you tried to scream, his free hand covered your mouth.

“You fucking bitch,” he murmured with disgust. You winced. “How about I leave you bleeding out here, all laid out for you bloodthirsty master.” The man crackled with humourless laughter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

While his venomous words made you cower, you relentlessly struggled against him, fighting with all that you could muster. Unfortunately, your captor was a werewolf, and far too strong for you to at least break free, to cast a spell.

He muffled Klaus’s name with his palm, and tears pricked your eyes. Even after the numerous times you’d bicker and argue, he was still the first person who came to mind, who you hopelessly called out to.

The man began lifting your body towards the door, urgently turning the knob. Just as the outside light cuts into your vision, you're wrenched from him, pulled into a powerful embrace. With ease, Klaus’s arms carried you away, swiftly placing you in the backseat of your car, locked safely inside.

His figure then disappeared just as quickly, and you hear your aggressor's voice wail in pain. Shaking, you curl over yourself, covering both ears pathetically.

After what feels like an eternity, two large hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, bringing you out of your shell. He quiets you, as he slides inside the vehicle, smoothly pulling you onto his lap. One of his arms supports your back, while the other strokes your hair. Calming you down, he mutters things like: 'Everything’s fine now love,' 'I’m here,' 'I’ll take care of you...'

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” you mumble.

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you could've done to stop a werewolf, especially when a full moon draws near,” he soothes. You press your cheek further into his broad chest. “Though, I wish you would’ve just listened to me for once, and stayed put.”

You shoot your head up, adjusting to face him, close enough that your noses nearly meet. “If I listened to you I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Oh really?” He grins, eyes creasing, “How so?”

“Well, for one, that time you ordered me to question that vampire chick's dead boyfriend about his affair, right in front of her.” Klaus guffaws. “You're laughing, but she would've bit my head off.”

“She wouldn’t have,” he denies, still chuckling.

“Yes, she would have Klaus.” You begin to laugh along.

“You know, I wouldn’t have let her.” His face deadpans, “Like I didn’t let our were-friend hurt you," he voiced, airily. "I gave you my word.”

“Yes, of course, your word.” You giggle nervously, glancing at the hand currently bracing your thigh, gliding its thumb back and forth. “It’s not all that I’ve given you.”

You look up and are met with a mysterious look this time. Your brows furrow in confusion. He smiles dreamily, “Your skills as a witch truly know no bounds.”

“The hell are you talking about now?” You retort, making Klaus laugh loudly.

“I’m talking about your spell," he whispers. "The one that has bewitched me.”

You freeze, heart dropping.

“You don’t mean that...” Your sentence trails off as Klaus stares through you.

He’s so unpredictable, that a part of you believes he's probably playing some sick game. But, there was also a possibility that he meant it, and all the hidden desires, for your unconventional boss, were about to bubble to the surface.

“I've meant every word, from the moment I met you, when you got the better of me.” He smirks, breath fanning your face. “Witchcraft.”

Then his lips take yours, slow at first, but the entanglement shortly turns desperate. Slightly hesitant, you grind on him, eager to pull him closer. He groans, and his hands enthusiastically roam your waist and back, beckoning you nearer.

Moving in a frenzy, as your fingers tangle in his locks, you swing your leg to straddle him. He moans your name in between kisses, and he palms your ass.

Continuously rolling your body into him makes you feel his arousal, which causes a whine to escape. When your lips break apart, his mouth trails down your jaw, to your neck. You gasp, but you don’t stop him. He audibly tells you how much he’s enjoying himself, and you squeeze your thighs over his.

“I can only imagine how sinful you taste here darling.” He remarks as his hand slides over your core, and you whimper. “How about you let me try?” He hums politely. “You know you want me to.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?” His voice rises questioningly, and a hand gropes your chest, while the other grips your chin, tilting your head down to peer into his eyes. “Not here,” you finish, and he smirks wildly.

“Then, I’ll just have to get us a private room?” He purrs seductively into you ear, making you shiver. “One that is, unoccupied,” he rolls his tongue, and you shiver again at the double meaning behind his words. You don’t even want to think about what he did to the man who attacked you.

“Please,” you sigh into a kiss, pecking his lips, which seems to surprise Klaus momentarily. His surprise briskly turns into a beaming smile. “To be continued,” he utters before shifting you off him and rushing out the car.

Not long after, Klaus reappears with that same childlike cheer gracing his features. Jerking open the door, he outstretches his hand like a gentleman. You accept it, and his palm completely envelops yours. He tugs you to his hip, and nibbles on your earlobe while you walk to a random room.

As soon as the door locks behind you, he presses himself against your backside. “Now, how about that taste?” He mutters while lifting your hair to kiss your nape, and rubbing himself against you. You press closer, before spinning around to enclose your mouth on his again. He groans into your mouth approvingly, backing your body toward the queen-size bed.

His lips free yours when your back legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards with a yelp. His hands then make work of your lower half, removing your clothes as he kneels infront of your cunt. You inhale deeply, as cool air hits your bare body.

He goes silent, so you raise your head to peek at him. Klaus is ogling you heatedly, like the predator he is. “Lovely,” he sing-songs.

He abruptly grips your thighs and heaves your core to his mouth, so close, his breath warms your skin. “K-Klaus.”

“Hmmm,” he hums shortly, before delving into you. You sob a cry of shock. His tongue expertly runs over your folds, sucking the nub with such a slow deliberation, like he can’t decide how he wishes to take you at first, as if he’s imagined every way he could.

You whine, motioning him to make his choice, bucking up, feeling his stubble scratch you. Then he grows aggressive, hungrily lapping your clit, over and over, until he ushers out your orgasm.

When your lengthy climax finishes, he sighs pleasantly into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible,” he emits with a chant of your name, thoroughly relaxing your shaking form.

“Fuck, take off your clothes,” you beg. He immediately abides by your command, tearing off his shirt and pants. You grab his necklaces to haul his lips to yours. You savour every inch of yourself on his tongue, and he relishes in how dirty the act was.

“There’s only so much I can do to you before dawn, and it won't nearly be enough to satisfy my hunger for you.” His poetic words erupt something within. You exhale, “It seems you’re going to break your promise then.”

He stills at your words, befuddled. You elaborate, “There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.” A timid smile spreads across your face, and he almost nods in understanding, feeling a strange quiver in his chest.

Wordlessly, he pulls himself from his slacks, and you take off the last of your clothes. Suddenly feeling a little out of body, you decide to take back some control of the situation. So, you flip your positions, once again, surprising Klaus, though he allows it.

You straddle him and lower yourself onto his thick cock. You whimper the second the tip enters, and he growls, pressing his fingertips into your hips, definitely leaving bruises.

“You’re too big,” you gasp.

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he states mindlessly. He wraps his arms around your waist and arms, pulling you down onto him. His hips then press completely into you, pushing himself inside to the hilt. A wheeze leaves your lungs as he grounds into you. “Klaus, it’s too-“

“It’s perfect,” he finishes for you. You barely have any time to adapt to his size before he begins pounding. Pleasure wracks through you, and he takes whatever control you had away. His pace is unnerving, and you utter incoherent words, while his fangs graze your neck.

“Tell me,” he groans through his panting. “Tell me you want me.” He demands, though it almost sounds like he’s begging for it. “I-I want you.” The words stumble out as his thrusts reach your center.

“More,” he just about whines.

“I want you Klaus,” you shout. “You feel so good- fuck I’ve always wanted this, you.” You ramble, egged on by him. He loves it, and you feel it in his strength. He holds you tighter, and the air leaves your body.

Feeling his leg tremble, you know he’s close. “Bite me.” His clamped-shut eyelids pop open, and his dark pupils bore into yours. You kiss him and take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Bite me while you cum,” you command.

He gulps before taking his last few pumps into you. He moans into your neck as his teeth puncture your flesh. You cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure that shatters you both.

After almost 10 minutes, he releases you from his firm caress and kisses the holes in your neck. Still inside, he turns you both on your sides. You catch your breath. “How are you still hard?” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles breezily. “I told you, you’ve bewitched my very soul darling.” He smirks.

“This is only the beginning.”

[metalhoops]

// Read Part 1 Here // Read Part 2 Here //

“Can you believe that bullshit, Stevie?” Eddie questioned, from his spot in Steve’s lap. 

The two were together on the Munsons’ beaten-up couch. Steve’s day had dragged on like bare feet in river mud. As far as he could gather, Eddie’s had been the same. The room was hot with the ghost of summer, despite it being mid-March. Eddie’s hair between Steve’s fingers was soft and fizzed. 

“Can I believe that Lucas refused to ditch the championship game for your fantasy club, that could be rescheduled? Yeah,” Steve paraphrased, feeling Eddie sit slightly as he craned his head to get a better look at Steve.

“You’re on his side, aren’t you?” Eddie mumbled, discontent clear in his voice. Steve didn’t like it. He hummed and leaned down to place a chased kiss on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re not meant to be on his side,” Eddie grumbled, laying back down. 

It was rare that the two disagreed. The disagreement had to be big enough to get a rise out of Steve, but if the situation called for it, he’d put his foot down. 

“It’s a big deal for him,” Steve reasoned, watching Eddie’s jaw clench. 

He’d gotten to know the boy well enough over the past few months. He knew what would come next. If he didn’t act soon, he’d have to sit through a monologue on the sanctity of the game and Lucas’ betrayal at having chosen sports over his friends. Steve didn’t mind the rants. He liked that Eddie was passionate. He did, but Eddie was right. Steve was on Lucas’ side. 

“I know this is a big deal for you, too. Getting to the end of the game or whatever, but can’t you just do it another day? It’d mean the world to the kid,” Steve reasoned. 

He knew by the rounding of Eddie’s shoulders and the elongated groan that escaped his lips that he’d won. 

“Fine, I’ll postpone a week, but you owe me big time. Next date you’re paying.” 

Steve didn’t argue. Hell, he liked paying for Eddie. The guy normally wouldn’t have a bar of it. 

“Wipe that smug smile off your face, Harrington. I get to pick what we do. I’m going to drag you to the loudest concert this side of the Mississippi the first chance I get.” 

Steve nodded, twisting Eddie’s fraying curl between his fingertips.

“In the meantime, I was thinking of heading to the game,” Steve proposed. 

Eddie groaned. He knew Steve too well. He knew what was coming next. 

“You’re going to drag my ass to the basketball game, aren’t you?” 

Eddie sat, switching to the far side of the couch to show his displeasure at the idea. However, he threw his feet in Steve’s lap, so he knew they were okay. 

He thought they were okay. 

“Lucas will want you to be there.”

“You know we can’t actually go together without people talking,” Eddie noted as Steve drove his thumb into the heel of the boy’s foot absentmindedly. 

“I don’t care,” Steve stated. 

He meant it. He’d given up on trying to be Hawkins’ golden boy years before. He just wanted to be the type of person he could live with. 

“Maybe I do,” Eddie spoke, stopping Steve cold. 

Steve worried. He always goddamn worried. Yes, he was waiting for the day he lost someone he cared about to the hell dimension, but it was more than that. He also worried about mundane stuff, like Eddie waking up and deciding they were bullshit. He’d been so sure he and Nancy were in love up until the second she told him they weren’t. That was a blow he wasn’t sure he’d ever heal from. 

He must have gone too quiet, sat stock, still in the growing silence. Eddie sat up and tugged at the hem of Steve’s shirt until he lay down beside him. The two were crushed uncomfortably close, side by side. Eddie’s knee was tucked between Steve’s legs. Eddie touched Steve’s face. It was something only he could get away with. If it were anyone else, he would hate it. 

“Not what I meant,” Eddie spoke, implicitly knowing where Steve’s train of thought had headed. 

“I just meant, I care because I know if any dick head in town had enough brain cells to put two and two together, we’d be screwed,” Eddie began, taking a deep breath. Steve settled back, bracing himself for the monologue. 

“Your parents would kick you out. Then the town would try to run me out with pitchforks. I’m not saying we’ll never... you know. I’m just saying we’ve gotta be smart about it. When I’m done with high school and we save up enough money to have an escape plan for when things go to shit, then we can toss around the idea of going to stupid basketball games together.” Steve sighed but nodded, understanding Eddie’s point of view.

Sometimes Steve got sick of being cautious. He got sick of waiting for other people to change their minds about something that didn’t have anything to do with them. He’d had some good goddamn sense knocked into him. He wished someone would do the same for everyone else. 

“We can hang out after the game. I’ve got something to do first, but I’ll swing around your place after ten.” Eddie proposed. 

Steve didn’t ask what Eddie was doing. If Eddie wanted him to know, he would’ve told him, and despite Steve’s many hang-ups, he trusted Eddie as much as he could trust anyone. 

“Ten works,” Steve agreed. 

The afternoon faded. Steve left Eddie to go to the game. He watched with his gaggle of kids by his side, glancing down at Robin in the marching band when her high school crush took to the stage with a shit-eating grin. He wanted to be there with Eddie, but this was a good consolation. He was sure he’d have bruises on his side by morning from Dustin constantly elbowing him in the side every time Lucas got the ball.

He was so damn proud of Lucas for scoring the winning point. Though Steve would admit, he’d have been proud of the kid if they’d lost by a mile. He was learning what love was about, love without contingencies. Eddie, Robin and the kids were teaching him the lessons he’d never picked up from his parents. 

He got back to his place around nine, took a shower and switched on a mindless T.V. re-run to fill the silence while he waited for Eddie. He was two episodes deep when he felt the familiar sensation of dread begin to well in the pit of his stomach. 

Eddie was two hours late when Steve’s worry shifted to full-blown panic. He tried to tell himself everything was fine, that Eddie got caught up and he’d walk through the door any minute. He picked up his bat from beneath his bed and paced the halls like an animal in an enclosure. 

It was three in the morning when Steve resigned himself to the fact that Eddie wasn’t coming. He called the Munsons at the god-awful hour of the night, hoping beyond hope that Eddie would pick up. He’d be pissed off at Steve for waking him up, but then he’d let him know what was going on. 

He didn’t answer. 

Maybe Steve had read things wrong. Maybe he and Eddie had a fight. They were fighting. That’s why Eddie hadn’t shown up.

He lay in bed until the light of morning thawed his bones and set him free from his wide-eyed, paralytic state of unrest. Instead of heading to work, he drove to the trailer park, swerving the Beamer off the dirt track as the blue lights painted the horizon. There was a swarm of cop cars parked outside Eddie’s trailer. Steve’s body moved of its own accord, rushing through the swarm of cops to find Wayne Munson smoking at the picnic benches, a nearly imperceptible tremor to his fingers. 

Steve didn’t ask what happened. Not right away. His mind was full of worst-case scenarios, none of which could be true until they were spoken into existence. For now, everything was unknown. For now, there was a chance Eddie was safe. He let his legs buckle beneath him as he sat beside Wayne, wondering when he’d made a habit of having panic attacks with Munson men near picnic benches. 

“Was Eddie with you last night?” Wayne asked between drags of the cigarette. 

Steve shook his head. 

Eddie had told Wayne about them. Steve had sat across the breakfast table from the man half a dozen times, but they’d never really talked without Eddie in the room. 

“Was he meant to be?” With a defeated sigh, Steve nodded. 

“What happened?” He asked, at last, tired of drawing out the inevitable. 

“I came home from my shift and there was a body.” All the colour fell from Steve’s face. 

“Not Eddie’s. Some girl. Cops are sayin’ they think he killed her. I reckon we both know that ain’t true.” Steve didn’t know what to do with that information. Eddie was alive. 

He listened to Wayne describe the scene with a growing feeling of dread. He’d seen enough of the Upside Down to understand that an eyeless girl, broken and bent like a marionette puppet and a missing boy seemed like part of its M.O. He was late for work. 

He needed to let Robin and the kids know what was going on. He skirted past the police and drove to the video store. His body was working on autopilot. To his surprise, Dustin and Max were already there. 

He watched as a disgruntled Robin tried to shoo them from behind the register. Steve cleared his throat, hoping beyond hope that the kids didn’t notice the red rim of his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“What the hell are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at school?” He tried to play it off like it was any other day, as though he was fine. Robin’s watchful eyes let him know she saw right through him. 

“We’re looking for places Eddie could hide.” Dustin breathed, stopping Steve in his tracks. He shut up and let them explain. 

“We were thinking he could be at Reefer Rick’s place,” Max supplied after Dustin finished his tangent. Steve remained uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Alright, well, quick. Get your shit, if we’re doing this.” Steve grumbled, sliding off his video store vest and leaving it on the counter. Eddie wasn’t dead. That was something.

“That’s great and all, Steve, but we still don’t know where the hell we’re going,” Dustin argued at Steve’s heels as the four rushed out into the parking lot. 

“I know where he lives,” Steve supplied, catching the disbelieving look shared between Max and Dustin. He hadn’t told the kids about him and Eddie. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was complicated. Everything about him and Eddie felt complicated. He didn’t want them to be a secret, but it was a necessity to keep them both safe, to keep Eddie safe. He’d told Robin because he knew she was safe. She was an extension of himself. He couldn’t not tell Robin, but the rest of the party was still in the dark. 

“I didn’t think you did drugs, Steve,” Dustin spoke sceptically as they piled into the car. 

“I don’t do drugs... Put on your seatbelt, Henderson.” 

“Then why do you know where a notorious drug dealer lives?” Dustin pushed. 

“Seriously, kid. I’m not backing out until you’re buckled in,” Steve warned. Now was not the time to get a D.A.R.E. presentation. 

“Steve, should I be worried?” Dustin asked as Max spoke up,

“Of course he does drugs. He’s at Eddie’s place all the time.” 

Both Steve and Robin turned back to look at the girl with wide eyes. Of course, Steve should’ve realised Max saw his BMW parked outside the Munsons’ trailer. He hadn’t been thinking. 

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything because we’re all going through shit,” Max elaborated as Dustin shot her a look of utter betrayal. 

“I didn’t think you guys were... friendly. I didn’t think you liked him,” Dustin gaped, finally buckling up. 

Steve tried to drive carefully, keeping his eyes on the road and the car under the speed limit, only sometimes succeeding. 

“What makes you think I don’t like Eddie?” Steve asked, trying to keep his mind off the very real potential that Eddie had just been dragged into the world he’d never wanted him to be a part of. 

Eddie kept trying to push for answers about what happened to Steve. He kept promising he’d give them to him when the time was right, but he could never bring himself to do it. Sometimes the best thing was to remain ignorant. All the same, Steve couldn’t lie to him either, so they’d remained in limbo. 

“You always drop me off at Hellfire, but you never say ‘hi’ to the guy." 

“I wave at him,” Steve reasoned. 

“From the car, Steve. It’s antisocial.” 

It wasn’t long before the group pulled up outside of Rick’s. Steve knew where Eddie would hide if he were there. He led the group to the boathouse, searching the place for any sign of the boy. That led to Steve blindly poking around in the dark with an ore and an odd sense of hope. All of which was thrown out the window the second a body sprung up from the darkness to shove him against a wall. 

It happened too quickly for Steve to process. There was a weight holding him in place and a sharp pressure at his throat. It wasn’t until Dustin’s calls that Steve made out Eddie’s body in the dim light. 

“Woah, Eddie. It’s me. It’s Dustin,” the kid called from behind them. 

The rest of the world fell away as he met Eddie’s wide, panicked eyes. He was safe. Scared as hell, but safe. The broken bottle Eddie held at his throat dropped from his hand in an instant, as did the ore from Steve’s grasp. 

“It’s Steve, Eddie.” 

Recognition flashed across Eddie’s face and suddenly Steve was being crushed again, this time under the weight of Eddie’s arms. The boy clung onto Steve as a drowning man would cling to driftwood. He buried his face into the nape of Steve’s neck and inhaled deeply. Steve could feel Eddie’s heart pounding against his chest. He snaked a hand around to hold the back of Eddie’s neck, forcing the boy to look at him. 

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” Steve spoke, echoing Eddie’s words from the first night the two had gotten together. He watched as the rapid rise and fall of Eddie’s chest slowed. 

“That’s it,” Steve soothed. 

“Stevie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“M’sorry I didn’t... I couldn’t go to your place, Steve. I wanted to,” Eddie continued, his hand having moved to grasp the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 

“I didn’t... I didn’t know if it’d follow me. I don’t know what the hell happened, I... you won’t believe me,” He finished at last, resting his forehead against Steve’s. 

It was slick with sweat but Steve didn’t care. The others in the room had fallen away entirely. There was only Eddie. 

“I think I should probably talk to you about that thing we keep meaning to talk about,” Steve breathed, drawing circles in Eddie’s skin. 

“Why now?” The boy asked, disbelievingly, a hysterical laugh slipping from his lips.

“Because no matter how crazy what you’re going to tell me sounds, I believe you.” 

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on? I thought you two hated each other,” Dustin called, shattering the moment between them. 

They pulled apart, though Eddie still kept his hand laced in Steve’s shirt while his hand migrated to the middle of Eddie’s back. 

“Why would I hate my boyfriend?” Eddie breathed, clearly not thinking, hopped up on adrenaline. 

“You’re what?” Dustin spoke, gawking open-mouthed at the boys. 

Steve inhaled deeply, squeezed Eddie’s hip and levelled Dustin with his best, unimpressed glare, practically daring him to push on. 

“That makes more sense,” Max muttered to herself as Dustin’s eyes continued to flicker between the two. 

“Shut your mouth, Henderson. You’ll catch flies. We’ve got more pressing issues here,” Steve muttered, trying to work out how exactly he could explain everything to Eddie. 

“I thought you were secretly dating Robin, not Eddie. What the hell, man? Neither of you told me,” Dustin pushed forward while Robin snorted, her nose scrunching at the idea. 

“Really not the time, Henderson,” Eddie confirmed, his fingers worrying away at Steve’s shirt. 

“That’s not fair. You’re not meant to be on his side, dude,” Dustin remarked. 

“Can we all just focus for two seconds? Eddie, what happened last night at your trailer?” Steve questioned, somehow managing to wrangle the group back to the task at hand. 

Steve knew by Eddie’s deep breath and trembling fingers what he was about to say. The world Steve had tried to protect the boy from had come to find him anyway. Now all Steve would do was be there to hold his hand as they walked through whatever hell the Upside Down had to offer.

Steve would keep him safe. Steve would always keep Eddie safe, no matter what.  

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one

chapter two | red. rain. rotten.

his pov;

She was standing underneath a stripe-patterned banner that shielded her from the pouring rain. Her nimble fingers sorted through an assortment of fruits, trying to decide which were the ripest and tastiest of the bunch. Of course, she was by herself, with none of her peers or family around her. I knew she was close to them. But why must she always be alone?

The tan-suede coat I wore protected me from the cold, keeping my body somewhat warm. My gloves and hands were stuffed in my pockets as I peeked around the corner and watched the girl shop. I noticed her begin to shiver, which I dreaded. I was so selfish. I didn't need this coat. I've spent countless nights in the cold, the crashing waves of the East Blue only intensifying the breeze. I was almost immune to the cold, but her? Y/N's nose was reddening as her teeth shattered. Was any fruit worth suffering in the cold? A devil fruit, maybe. But even then, it wasn't worth it. "Y/N," I smiled as I approached the maiden. The girl's head rose as she picked up an apple then her body twisted, her eyes growing wide upon the sight of myself. She nearly jumped. "How-" She shook her head. "Are you following me?" Her voice and body shook. Yes. "No, of course not," I laughed, brushing the accusation off my shoulders as I took a few more steps toward her, closing the wide gap. "I was looking for something to eat and I spotted you. Am I not allowed to say hello?" Guilt was something I was tremendous at. Y/N still seemed skeptical but after a slight sigh, she smiled and nodded her head. "No, forgive me. I'm sorry. Uh," She turned her attention to the apple she was holding then let it drop among the others crowding in a small basket. "None of these apples look good."

"They've been sitting out for a while. The shop clerk doesn't take the best care of his fruits. It's why they're so cheap," I chuckled to myself and reached down to grab an apple. I twisted it and examined a large brown spot that was eating away at the once-bright red color. I huffed, "I'm sure you can find something else to eat."

"I can't afford anything else to eat."

My eyes widened and I took a step back, visibly and internally shocked. What? She couldn't afford to eat anything other than a rotten apple? "Why?"

"It's a long story," Y/N admitted. "But I don't wanna talk about it." The girl sorted through found one that looked reasonable, and started to dig in her pocket. She pulled out nothing. "Never mind, I can't even afford that." Letting out a pitiful laugh, she dropped the fruit. I frowned. Her absence of money was one of the few things I didn't know about her. And now that I was aware of it, I felt a puzzling and aggressive feeling in my stomach. Was she out of work? Did she not have any way of providing for herself? Raising my hand, I grabbed at my chin and scratched the bottom of it. "Let me buy you something to eat."

"What?" Her eyes widened and she immediately shook her head, waving her hands as a type of rejection. "You are not buying me anything."

"It's just lunch. It's no biggy," I remarked. "At least something small."

"Why?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Do you feel sorry for me? First, you see me getting picked on by some slob, and now, you see that I'm too poor to afford a rotten apple. What's next?"

"Y/N, knock it off. Stop. Just think of it as a friend doing something nice for their friend."

The questioning look remained stuck on her face as she stared up at me. I tried to maintain a serious expression though the look she was giving me made my lower lip purse, like a pout. How was someone so enchanting? I continued to stare into her eyes, making quick glimpses to explore her other facial features before she finally made a decision. "Fine, but just this once, okay?" "You got it." I winked. -=- Being the gentleman I am, I loaned Y/N my coat to wear despite her dismay and numerous declines. She was pouty the entire walk to the pub but I didn't care. I'd rather her in a pissy mood than feeling physically uncomfortable due to the rain. I, however, was shivering. I was starting to become drenched. I held a newspaper over my head in hopes of staying dry but the wind was strong and the rain was forceful, almost piercing through the thin paper.

When we arrived at the restaurant, she found herself a seat in the corner of the establishment, scooting far into the booth. I followed behind her, sitting on the edge of the seat. I'd rather her be sitting across from me than rather to the side but due to her current emotional state, I stayed quiet and slid her the menu. "Get whatever you want, alright? I mean it."

"Are you a man of money?"

"Something like that," I snickered and ducked my head down to examine the options.

"Have you killed anyone before?" Y/N asked as she folded her arms over the table, her eyes peering at me.

I furrowed my eyebrows and let out a soft laugh. "No," I lied. "I'm not like that. I wasn't that type of pirate."

"What kind of pirate were you?"

"What kind of pirates do you think there are?"

"I don't know," She said as she pursed her lips. "I don't like pirates."

I nodded, unsure of a proper reply. I didn't like lying to her. I was fine with lying, in general. I was the master of conniving and deception. But I wanted to be different for her. Maybe a better person, though that seemed a bit rash. I left the East Blue after discovering that Monkey D- or whatever his name was received a higher bounty than me. Double my own, to be precise. My normally high and mighty ego dropped down and was smooshed by a brick. I didn't want to show my face again, at least not for a while. I wanted somewhat of a fresh start. And when I discovered my presence in the North Blue was dim and almost non-existent, I decide to settle down and refresh.

Then I discovered her.

And my plans completely changed.

"Do you know what you're getting?" Y/N's voice interrupted my thoughts and I raised my head and peaked up at her, smiling softly.

"Hm, not too sure yet," I replied.

"Are you cold? You look cold. You can have your coat back, it's--"

"Nah, keep it. It looks better on you," I said with a grin. I reached for a napkin and started to dab at my forearms, trying to dry myself off. The lovely woman aside of me frowned and stayed quiet. I could tell she felt guilty, which, of course, wasn't my intention. So in hopes of brightening up the mood, I decided to tell a joke.

"What's a pirate's favorite type of exercise?"

Y/N smirked and scrunched her eyebrows. "What?" She laughed.

"The plank."

Her hand slapped over her mouth in hopes of keeping her loud giggles and snickers to a minimum but the more she proceeded to think about it, the more laughs she erupted. My face reddened. I glanced around me, noticing that every other patron and pirate were staring directly at us. Gulping, I reached forward and pulled her hand down from her mouth. "Come on, stop. It's not that funny."

"It's stupid, that's why it's funny!" She continued to cackle as she threw herself over the table, clutching her stomach. A smile crawled on my face, not a painted one. Hearing her laugh, while for no reason, was a beautiful sound. And seeing her laugh? That was even better. I rested my chin in my hand and watched her, smiling to myself. When she finally calmed down, she wiped tears from her eyes. Her face was stained red. "Gosh, I am so sorry," She sighed, shaking her head. "I needed that, thank you."

"It's no problem," I said as I dropped my menu.

Due to the lack of laughter, a waiter finally arrived and took our orders.

"I'll have a slice of apple pie, please. With a cup of milk," Y/N smiled up at the waiter as she read off from the menu.

I raised an eyebrow. Dessert?

"Then after that, I'll have the fish and chips. But I want the pie first, please. Not after." She announced and she folded her menu, sliding it forward. She smiled at me.

I looked at her, completely confused. "Uhm," I looked back to the waiter, "I'll just have a cup of coffee."

Now, Y/N was looking at me, confused.

The waiter nodded and left. "Hey," Y/N started. "Why aren't you eating? I thought you were on your way to get something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. Plus I doubt you'll finish all of that. I might pick on your leftovers," I said with a grin then I started to munch on the small bowl of peanuts that sat in the middle of the table. "What's up with the apple pie though?"

"I like to eat my dessert before my food because that's what I'm looking forward to," She hummed as she leaned back in her seat. "What if during our meal, we are stormed by a group of pirates and killed at gunpoint? Or a sea snake comes and eats us whole?"

"Ha! What?"

"It's unlikely but it's possible. And I'd like to die knowing I was able to get to the good part of my meal." She wagged her finger at me.

"You make a good point there."

"I know," The girl said with a satisfied grin.

I chuckled and sat back, drumming my gloved fingers on the edge of the table. A thought pondered my mind but I didn't know whether to act on it or not. I wanted to, but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. I felt Y/N and I were moving forward with our relationship if there was one. We were talking, enjoying a meal together. I made her laugh. She admitted a quirk about herself to me. I felt there was good progress. But I wanted more. I was an impatient man. And the fact that it took five months for me to finally talk to her, despite her initiating the conversation, was surprising. I was eager to get what I wanted. And Y/N was the only thing my mind and heart could agree on.

But the fighting halves of my brain finally settled and I rested my arm over the top of the booth, leaning back. "So, uh, earlier you said you needed to laugh? How so?"

"It's a long story," She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders.

"I've got no places to be, I have time," I said as I cracked a peanut open, discarding of the shells on an unfolded napkin. I watched as she began to grow uneasy with the topic but I was desperate to want to know what was the issue. Why was she stressing her pretty little head? I frowned. "Come on, talk to me. We aren't friends, I'm a stranger to you, no? Who am I gonna talk to or tell?"

"You make a good point," Y/N sighed and leaned forward, raising her hand to scratch at the back of her neck. "It's just- I don't know, it's a lot. I haven't talked to anyone about it."

“Why not?”

“Because it’s something I’m not proud of.”

What could someone as sweet and fragile as she has done that was such an awful deed?

“What is it?” I tossed a peanut into my mouth.

“Well, I was young when it all happened. But when Gold Roger announced the One Piece before he died, my dad was one of the stupid pirates who thought he could have a shot at finding it,” She announced as her eyes rolled and she started to chew on my inner cheek. “My mom kept telling him to knock it off and stop living in a fantasy but he set off, determined to find it. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. But this came to me a few days ago,” The girl dug her hand into her pocket, rummaging around before she pulled out a crumpled piece of coffee-stained paper. She rolled the ball toward me.

I looked at her then back down at the paper ball. I reached forward and grabbed it, raising an eyebrow. Unfolding it, I smoothed the paper against the table and started to allow my eyes to trail over the letter.

‘Y/N,

It is with great sorrow that I write you this letter. I wish you the best in your youth and I hope you amount to incredible things, such as creating a new destiny for you and your mother. I am sorry I wasn’t able to be a better father for you. Greed is distasteful. I won’t see you again. At the time of writing this, I will be long gone. But please, do me one thing: never stop smiling.

I love you, kiddo.

Love, Dad’

I clenched my jaw and looked back up at her. “Damn, that is a lot.”

“I told you,” She whispered as she tore the paper out of my hands, crunched it into a ball, and then shoved it back into her pants. “I didn’t think he’d be dead. Not this soon. My parents had me when they were young. And to think that my dad died doing something everyone warned him of. It’s horrible. It haunts my mind every day,” She frowned, her eyes tearing up. “Do I write back?”

“Do you have things you wish to say to him?”

“So much. But if he’s dead, then there’s nothing I can say, right?” Y/N rubbed at her nose and took a deep breath as she looked up, her hands waving in hopes of drying her tears. “God, I hate crying.”

“Maybe just write your heart out. Say everything you wish you could say to him. Then seal it in a bottle and toss it into the sea,” I suggested. I looked down at my gloved hand and hesitating, I reached forward and took hold of her small hand. I gave it a tight squeeze. “What do you want to say?”

“How I hate him for abandoning me and my mother but I still love him because he’s my father,” Y/N murmured, the rest of her words muffling as her lower lip quivered. She broke down in a fit of sobs as tears ran down her gorgeous face. I swallowed, never knowing how to react when someone cried. As a child, I hated to be touched whenever I was upset. I wondered if she was the same way. “I don’t know, I don’t,” She repeated as she buried her face in her hands.

I looked around the bar, nervous that others were watching this scene. First the obnoxious laughter and now this? Her emotions were spiraling.

“Hey,” I whispered, my thumb rubbing along her wrist. “Let's say we get the food to go and I’ll take you back home. Eat where you feel comfortable and so you can properly feel your emotions.”

“Huh?” She raised her head, the light mascara that accentuated her eyelashes, now dripping down her cheeks.

“I’m going to go tell the chef to wrap your meal up. Then I’ll take you home,” I continued and I raised my free hand, snapping my fingers to signal we needed assistance. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn around when you walk inside.” I cocked a smile but the comment remained unheard as she continued to cry.

I finally found a waiter and instructed him that we were taking the meal to go. He looked at Y/N with a concerned look but I told him she was alright. But I didn't even know that.

On the walk back to her place, I think I managed to get her to calm down. My hand rubbed at her back as she dipped her head in her hands. I guided her through crowds, instructing her on where to go since her eyes were covered and swollen with tears. A small frown fell on my face despite the red-painted smile I wore so proudly. The face paint I wore was smeared and dripping due to the rain from before. It was continuing to rain but not nearly as frequent and hard as earlier.

I had no idea she was this emotional. It made me feel guilty, even though, as far as I knew, I had nothing to do with why she was crying so much. I hated seeing her so sad. Normally, if it were anyone else apart from her, ridiculing would be my goal. I never cry. Pirates don't cry. But my nose burned with an odd sensation as I helped her up the staircase to her small, run-down building. I blinked rapidly and the feeling went away. Letting out a sigh, I gave Y/N a pat on the back and informed her that we were finally home. Her head raised from the confines of her hands and she revealed a wet, red face with strands of her hair sticking to her skin. A frown stayed on my face. I pulled my hand from her back and dropped the takeaway down on the doorstep. I clenched my teeth together and watched as she fumbled to push the door open. "Here," I whispered, using my foot to nudge it open. It gave way, revealing a disorderly room with an unkempt bed and a woman sleeping under the sheets. It was probably her mother.

"Thank you," Y/N finally spoke, her voice croaking. "I appreciate it, honestly. I'm sorry for ruining your meal."

"Don't apologize. Things are fine. Go eat then get some rest, alright?"

"Yeah, okay." She rubbed her nose and nodded her head. "I'll see you around." Her body twisted and she hunched over to grab the uneaten food. She stepped inside.

"Y/N," I started, stopping her in her steps. She turned around. As I dug through my pocket, I pulled out a few berries, placing them in the palm of her hand. "Take these, okay? It's not a lot but, it should last you a little while."

"What?" She looked in her hand, shaking her head. "Buggy, no, I can't accept this. This is too much."

"Come on, take it. It's okay. You need it more than I do."

"But this is like," She counted the bills in her hands, "forty-three hundred berries... Are you completely sure?"

"Yes, I am," I said with a smile.

"I'm going to pay you back for this, I promise."

"No need."

"No, I want to. Please. I won't take this unless you allow me to repay you for this. Okay?" She slipped the money into her pocket, wiped her palm on the side of her pants, then held it out. "Deal?"

Chuckling to myself, I nodded my head. "Deal." I shook her hand. "Now, come on, go eat. I don't want to take any more of your time."

"Okay, okay," The beautiful girl agreed with a large grin, which was a much better sight than her crying. "Buggy, thank you. Thank you so much." And with those words, she stepped back, gave me a quick wave and a sincere grin, then shut the creaky wooden door behind her.

The sound of the door shutting nearly made me jump. And when I realized I was left all alone, the same sensation in my nose appeared. I gulped and walked down the stairs, now standing on a wooden dock. I hugged my arms and my eyes widened.

Y/N still had my coat.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer fantasy, part 1

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend” or a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For queer sci-fi recs, click here! For a masterpost of book rec lists, click here! For more details on the books recommended here, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites!

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez*

AKA the book the killed me. Two boys travel throughout their land with the body of a god as her horrible, horrible children try to hunt them down. It’s hard to explain more than that, but trust me when I say the narrative voice and literary techniques are incredibly unique in how they blend past and present, reality and story, lead and bystander. Truly an experience. Features an m/m romance.

The Unbroken (Magic of the Lost series) by C.L. Clark*

Tourraine, who was stolen as a child and trained as a soldier for the empire that conquered her home, is recruited by Luka, the future leader of the conquering country, to root out a rebellion. A game of twisted loyalties and attraction is soon to develop as the two must decide where their priorities lie: with each other, or with their respective countries and people.

Sing the Four Quarters (Quarters series) by Tanya Huff*

Though a royal by birth, princess Annice renounced her throne to become a bard, a musician who through training can Sing elemental spirits to do their bidding. Ten years later, she goes on the run for two counts of treason, first by imperiling the succession order by becoming pregnant, second by helping her ex, and the father of her child, escape the palace dungeons and a death sentence. Bisexual lead in an f/f relationship. When I first read this book I described it as, and I quote, 'a fucking delight', and I stand by that.

The Unspoken Name (The Serpent Gates duology) by C.L. Clark*

The sort of portal fantasy you get when all the worlds connected by portals are fantasy worlds, and none of them are ours. The portals themselves become simply a part of the worldbuilding that the characters use to travel between fascinating places, and it’s all really cool. It follows Csorwe (lesbian orc assassin whom I love), who grew up in a cult, indoctrinated as a child sacrifice to a god. But on the day she was meant to die, she instead chose to follow a powerful wizard and train to become his loyal servant and sword. Aside from being an excellent fantasy, it’s also a close look at the hard path of unlearning indoctrination and the search for love and validation where you’ll never find it, and learning to live for yourself. Multiple queer leads.

The Jasmine Throne (The Burning Kingdoms series) by Tasha Suri

A princess held captive by her own brother, who wants to see her dead, tries to trick a servant into helping her escape, but with undeniable attraction growing between them and the servant having her own goals of liberation things quickly get complicated, both between them and in the country at large as rebellion and dangerous magic brews. Sapphic romance.

The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos duology) by Samantha Shannon

Queen Sabran's lineage has protected the country of Inys from dragons for a thousand years, but now the safety of their land is threatened as Sabran is yet to conceive and assassins are closing in. Lady-in-waiting Ead is secretly part of a society of hidden mages, and is using her position to protect her queen. Meanwhile, on the other side of the sea, dragonrider Tané is faced with an impossible choice. The fates of all three are intertwined as they attempt to stop the rise of a great dragon. 800+ page epic fantasy. Sapphic romance.

The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher*

Young adult, fairy tale retelling of the Snow Queen. When Gerta's friend Kai is stolen away by the evil Snow Queen, Gerta must depart on a mission to save him. On the way, she encounters, among others, a talking raven and a pretty robber girl who become her allies. Sapphic romance.

The Rise of Kyoshi (Kyoshi duology) by F.C. Yee*

Young adult. Set in the Avatar universe, but aimed at an older audience than the animated series. Though she will one day be one of the most well-known avatars of the land, for now, young Kyoshi is but a humble girl who has yet to find out her true destiny as the bender of all four elements and keeper of balance of her world. When betrayal strikes and a dear friend is lost, Kyoshi goes on the run alongside fiesty firebender Rangi to find out the truth of her destiny and power. Sapphic romance.

Legends & Lattes (Legends & Lattes series) by Travis Baldree

Viv is tired of adventures and bloodshed - now she wants a peaceful life, and decides to go after it by opening a café. But going from warrior to small business owner is easier said than done, especially when Viv's old life comes knocking. Best described as a cozy fantasy, with a largely low-stakes but heartwarming plot and a sapphic romance.

Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee

Gyen Jebi is an artist, but making a living is difficult. When offered a job by the Ministry of Armor to paint the magical sigils that animate their automaton soldiers, they have little choice but to accept. But as Jebi sees the dark depths of the government, especially the shocking source of their magical paint, they must find a way to resist. Perhaps by freeing the Ministry's mighty automaton dragon... Nonbinary main character.

Crier's War by Nina Varela

Young adult. Who says sci-fi has monopoly on robots? In Crier’s War, artificially created automae have defeated and subjugated humans, who live as second class citizens. Young Ayla goes undercover as a servant, meaning to assassinate automae girl and Sovereign’s daughter Crier. This would be easier if the two weren’t quick to develop feelings for each other.

Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky trilogy) by Rebecca Roanhorse

In a pre-columbian inspired world, sea captain Xiala, gifted with an unusual connection to the sea, travels with a mysterious scarred and blind passenger toward a dangerous goal as prophecy heralds the return of a god. Features among others bisexual and nonbinary leads.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her daughter, stolen away by a father who just murdered their son after having discovered a terrible secret of their family. Does feature multiple queer characters and a main polyam relationship, but DO NOT read this expecting happy queer relationships as this series handles many dark subjects (you should still read it though, it's incredibly good).

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan*

Young adult. Kids who can walk between our world and a magical one get recruited into a magical school that trains them to be either fighters or diplomats. Our lead decides that fighting is stupid and that he’s going to peacefully solve every conflict ever, all while being the most delightfully obnoxious little brat possible and getting involved in the most bisexual love triangle imaginable. Very good, funny, and heart-felt coming of age story.

Our Bloody Pearl D.N. Bryn

A siren who’s been held captive by a pirate is freed, but too injured to survive on their own as their tail has become paralyzed. Another pirate captain decides to help them out and has to work to win their trust. Fairly fluffy and light on world-building and plot (though there is a bit of a revenge story in there), with a focus on character and recovery. m/nb romance with an asexual love interest.

A Master of Djinn by P. Djélí Clark

Set in an alternate 1910’s steampunk Cairo, where djinn and other creatures live alongside humans. We get to follow an investigator as she races to catch a criminal using a powerful object to control djinn and stir unrest. Fantastically creative and fresh, and also features a buddy cop dynamic between two female leads as well as a sapphic romance.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho*

As a toddler, Jessamyn Teoh left Malaysia. Now a young adult, she’s broke, closeted, and moving back. There she’s faced with the ghost of her estranged grandmother, Ah Ma, who was a medium and avatar of the deity the Black Water Sister in life. Now she demands Jess' help in exacting revenge against a gang boss that offended her god. Meanwhile, all Jess wants is to get her life back on track.

Heaven Official's Blessing (Heaven Official's Blessing series) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Once, Xie Lian was the beloved crown prince of a kingdom. Then he rose to godhood at a young age, and was expected to take a step back from his land and his people, but in his inability to do so ended up losing everything. Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian has ascended to godhood for a third time, forgotten by mortals and the laughing stock of Heaven. Trying to rebuild his reputation, Xie Lian sets off on a mission, and on it encounters an infamous demon king who inspires fear in all of heaven. M/M romance.

Jane, Unlimited by Kristin Cashore*

Young Adult. Jane is invited by an old acquaintance to an extravagant gala in an island mansion, stranding her among the rich and glamorous. But being surrounded by rich people is the least of Jane’s problems: the mansion is housing secrets, some of them tied to Jane’s own family. The mansion offers her five choices, all of them leading her down different paths and different answers. Jane, Unlimited is a choose-your-own adventure story of sorts, featuring five different endings in five different genres, each more off the wall bonkers than the next. It also features a bisexual main character!

Every Heart a Doorway (Wayward Children series) by Seanan McGuire*

A tumblr favorite, the Wayward Children novellas feature a school open to children who have returned from adventures in other realms and now have trouble adapting back to regular life. Some installments are set in our world, others follow children as they have their otherworldly adventures. The main characters vary between books, but are generally pretty diverse with among others asexual, trans, intersexual and sapphic leads. Both funny and dark, it takes a closer look at the trauma many endure growing up different.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern*

Surreal and fairy tale-esque, The Starless Sea is stories within a story, following graduate student Zachary as he finds a strange book which, in-between other tales, tells a story from his own childhood. Trying to find out how this came to be, Zachary gets involved with a pink-haired woman and a handsome man who are doing their utmost to protect a strange, otherworldly library available only through magical doors. It’s a book hard to put in words, but which I once described as “romantic without being a romance while stile having a love story at it’s core”, and which can be summed up only as “an Experience”. It’s also quite gay!

Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer*

Young adult. Nita isn’t a murderer - technically. She just dissects the bodies of supernatural beings her mother brings home and sells for parts on the black market. But when her mother brings home a still living victim, Nita has had enough and frees him. As it turns out, no good deed goes unpunished as Nita is betrayed, her own nature as a supernatural entity outed as she’s kidnapped and placed behind bars. Now she must find a way to escape before she's sold for parts. Features two aroace leads and a queerplatonic relationship, though it isn’t made textual until book 3 and briefly masquerades as a romance, which is pretty hilarious.

The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence) by K.D. Edwards

Urban fantasy. Rune Saint John is the only survivor of the massacre against the Sun Court years prior. Now he’s been hired by Lady Judgement to find her missing son, Addam. Alongside his companion and bodyguard Brand, Rune goes on to question Addam's family and business contacts all over New Atlantis, island city and home of the Atlanteans after their original home was destroyed by ordinary humans. But the more he digs, the more Rune finds clues that Addam's absence is connected to Rune's own tragic past. M/M romance.

Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino

Centuries ago in Ireland, Chairiste Ní Cummen was trained in the secrets of music and magic. But her pride was her downfall, trapping her and her lover in the land of the Sidh. Only Chairiste escaped, hoping to one day win her lover's freedom in musical battle with the fairy that holds her captive. Now she is Christa Cruitare, harp teacher in the modern world and all but resigned to her loss. Until she comes across a great new music: heavy metal. Taking one last chance to win her lover's freedom, Christa sets out to gather other skilled musicians and bring them with her in her final battle. Sapphic romance.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Pantomime (Micah Grey trilogy) by Laura Lam

Young adult. On the surface, Gene's life is that of a noble debutante. In reality, she has secrets: she's both male and female, and has magical abilities that hasn’t been seen in an age. In the face of a betrayal from her parents, Gene runs away from home, dresses up as a boy, and joins a circus. Intersex main character.

Ghost Walk by Kay Solo

Maaya Sahni can see ghosts, and does her best to survive in her small isolated town by keeping her head down. But when an entire street full of people is spirited away by faceless specters that scares even ghosts, Maaya must find a way to stop the specters. Lesbian main character.

Swordspoint (Riverside series) by Ellen Kushner

In Riverside, duels are the way to settle disputes, and Richard St. Vier is the undisputed master of the sword - at least until a death is met not with awe but with outrage. M/M romance.

[aris-ink]

Please consider writing about Daddy Joon who adopted reader after her mother died and who forces her to sleep in the same bed as him and one night she wakes up to him force breeding her 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 doing his absolute best to make her a mommy 💛

no words fhdhshdfsd

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: mentions of death and violence (not towards the reader), some angst, soft corruption and manipulation, pseudo incest, daddy kink, somnophilia, dub con, hints of breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie

edited.

Namjoon tried his best to be a good father. He didn't get the chance to watch you grow up, and he was perfectly aware of the fact that you were a woman now. But deep down, in his heart, he still saw you as his little girl. You changed his life, marked him forever. All the unexplored and untouched nooks that twisted through his soul; your light went right into them, a gust of bone chilling wind, breaking through the cobwebs and dust, rattling him to the core. Awakening something so old and primitive from its sleep, it felt nearly sinister.

But it was perfectly fine, Namjoon figured. All little girls had a monster under their bed; it just so happened that yours protected you. Ironic, how it didn't even occur to him that perhaps what you needed protection from was him.

When your mother passed away, he took you in without a moment of hesitation. A lost baby bird that needed their wings nursed back to health. You didn't have to be looked after anymore, sure - but you still needed your daddy. All little girls needed their daddies. And Namjoon would have gladly went to hell and back to provide you anything your heart desired.

It was sweet, your friends thought; how close you were with your stepfather, how tight knit your bond was. Especially knowing you barely remembered your own father. His absence left a hole in your life that seemed impossible to fill before Namjoon started dating your mom.

But what would they say if they knew? If they knew how as soon as you moved in with him, he had you sleep in his bed? How he coaxed you and rocked you in his arms while he brushed your tears away? Weren't you too old for this?

"I'm worried about you, baby," he whispered, his hand burning hot on your knee. "I won't let you sleep alone."

You were opposed to the idea; but something in the way he spoke to you made your mind cloud, the low murmur of his voice filling it up like fog.

"Just lie down for me, sweetheart. Good girl. Don't cry."

He didn't really give you much of a choice; and you felt so warm and safe in his embrace, so loved. Still, a tiny pang of guilt stirred in your chest. Like you were doing something wrong. It definitely seemed wrong to feel every muscle of his body; in his chest against your back, in his arms as they enveloped you. The intimacy of it felt so... new. You've shared hugs before, but you never shared a bed, let alone cuddled in it.

You tried to ignore this train of thought, willing it to crash and crumble. Your cheeks warmed as he sighed against you, from the sheer embarrassment of your own paranoia. This was Namjoon, for god's sake; your mother's ex husband. He must have been suffering too. He must have felt lonely. But most of all, you knew how worried he could get about you. He had always been much more mindful than your mother, paying attention to your moods, asking you about your day, helping you with your homework. You drifted off with only him on your mind, surrounded by the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body entwined with yours. The comfort of it lulled you into the best sleep you've had in months.

After that, you slowly stopped rejecting the idea of sharing a bed with him. Namjoon held an important place in your heart for years. No wonder he'd be the one to keep it from falling to pieces. He was just looking after you.

Right?

Then why did that murky, uncomfortable feeling continue to unfurl in your chest? All logic was against it. And yet you couldn't help but pick up on the little things; how persuasive he was, how his hands wandered over your waist under the sheets. Why did it all bother you, when technically he wasn't doing anything wrong? Most importantly, you reminded yourself over and over again; you weren't doing anything wrong.

Though you might have been unaware of it, Namjoon could see how conflicted you were. He could also see the goosebumps on your skin as he caressed your back, your muscles tensing, suppressing shivers. Unfortunately, it didn't look like you'd give in so easily.

"Go to sleep, baby," he murmured, leaving a kiss on your head before turning to lie on his back. You just needed a little push. That was okay. All good fathers knew their little girls inside and out; and sometimes they had to do what was necessary for their greater good.

You breathed a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into the cool pillow.

"Goodnight, daddy."

Something in his lower stomach stirred. The affectionate title fell from your lips so quietly, like you were already on the verge of succumbing to your exhaustion, slipping right off the precipice and into its dark embrace.

He hasn't heard you call him that in weeks. He listened to your breathing even out, lifting himself up on one arm.

Fuck. He needed you. You needed him too, didn't you? Of course you did. He knew you did. That was what he told himself when he brushed your hair away from your neck, pressing his lips into its column. He covered every inch of it he could reach with butterfly kisses, ending the trail right below your ear. Unlike his lips, his hand was less gentle, squeezing your hip, like he was searching for a way to keep at least some semblance of self control. It was difficult when you felt so soft and warm beneath him. Even more so when he realized that for the first time, he was finally able to act out on his fantasies. For the first time, he had you in his bed, with no one to come in and interrupt you, no one to witness him sliding down your underwear, sticky from how he played with you. The excitement bordered on predatory, but what else could you expect with that thing you set free in somewhere in his soul, the darkness that broke through? It was all your doing. And Namjoon was all yours. The most sinful, immoral parts of him included.

Sinful they were, for no good father should ever touch his little girl the way he touched you, but how could he resist when you responded so well? Your nipples felt so hard under his tongue, the little twitch in your body enthralling. You were so easy to defile; so willing. Namjoon didn't think he's ever felt more in love.

The sight of his aching, fat cock lined up with your cunt was enough to make it drool. He was so hard every vein and ridge seemed to throb. You wanted this, didn't you? You just needed that one, little push. One push of his hips, and you'd wake up gasping from your needy, mortal dreams, only to awaken in heaven; his hand around your mouth, his thick cock filling you up to the brim.

It didn't take long. He pressed his weight into you, groaning as you startled, trashing under him.

"Shhhh, baby," he whispered, breathing harshly into your ear. "It's just me."

Your pussy clenched around him. Namjoon stilled inside you for a moment, holding back a grunt. He looked up at you, trying to force himself to slow his thrusts. The tears stuck in your eyelashes made his heart twist. He took his hand off your mouth, replacing it with his tongue instead, kissing you and trying to pour all his love into you.

He could feel your distress, feel the hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Don't cry, baby," he breathed as he pulled away from your mouth. "It's okay. You're so good for daddy."

"N-no," you stuttered out, your hands trembling as they pushed at his chest. "Get off me."

An unexpected, hard thrust had your back arching, a gasp leaving your throat.

"Get off you?"

There was a significant change to the tone of his voice; it was lower and dark now, his eyes stuck on yours as he continued to fuck you.

"That's not what this cute, little cunt is telling me, baby. You're squeezing me so tight."

His teeth gritted at the last word. You couldn't believe the soft moan that slipped past your lips, your body betraying your morals. Namjoon gripped your jaw, fingers digging into it, his cock making wet, obscene sounds as it split you open.

"Fuck," he growled. "You hear that? So wet. Good girl."

You didn't feel like a good girl. More tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you quickly found yourself realizing you were helpless.

"Please, daddy!" You whined, still pushing at his chest, but your attempt at trying to make him see reason had the opposite effect. His cock only seemed to grow harder inside you - if that was possible - his balls slapping against you faster.

In one swift, rough motion, he turned your head to the side, plush lips pressing right into your ear.

"Do you want me to stop? Is that it? You want daddy to stop pounding your little pussy?" He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "Or is my little girl crying because she's ashamed of how depraved she is?"

The pressure of your hands pushing at his chest softened. You blinked a few times before burying your face in his neck, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

"Daddy-" you sobbed out, half pleasure, half pain.

Namjoon groaned, his hand slipping under your thigh.

"It's okay, baby... I love you. You're my good girl."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, leaving kisses over your sweaty skin, his cock reaching deeper than you've ever been touched. He could tell from the way you gasped, trying so hard not to give in to him - and failing.

"Daddy's almost done, baby," he soothed. "Gonna fill you up so- oh-" his hips stuttered when your pussy clenched again. "Ohh fuck."

"Wait, you can't-" the words were abruptly cut off by his kiss, your protests turning into more incoherent, muffled moans.

A string of saliva connected your lips when he pulled away.

"Be a good girl," he groaned. "I can feel how much you want it. Want me to come inside you and make you all mine, huh?"

Your thighs tightened around him as his finger found your clit, slippery and throbbing.

"Want daddy to make you a mommy," he grunted, circling the sensitive bud in fast circles, desperate as he felt you clench. "Yeah? Want to be all fucking mine?" He was hanging on by threads, the filth spilling from his mouth turning into breathy moans when you started coming. He fucked you harder, letting you claw at his back, hot seed spilling deep into your tightening cunt. The sound of your loud whines only made him twitch more, his head spinning.

"Good fucking girl," he whimpered, stilling in between your legs.

He stayed inside you, unable to force himself away, his hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"Baby," he whispered a moment, lifting his head.

You didn't shy away from his gaze, but more tears lingered beneath your lashes, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"I love you."

He pressed a kiss into your forehead, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks.

"Don't cry."

You struggled to reply verbally, instead choosing to hide within his embrace.

"It's okay," he reassured. "I promise. I got you."

You nodded into his neck.

"Good girl."

Namjoon knew he had to pull out eventually. He sighed again, dropping another kiss on your lips.

"Get some rest, baby."

A shudder went through you as he lifted himself up, dragging his cock out of your cunt, leaving behind nothing but a feeling of emptiness and his cum dribbling out of you. He almost shuddered too, his abdomen clenching at the sight.

"Good girl," he couldn't help repeating himself, his hand massaging the soft flesh of your thigh.

He wanted to fuck you again. The thought of overwhelming you stopped him, though. He knew just how much you could handle, and that was it for tonight. It was more than enough.

He lowered himself onto his side, wrapping both arms around your waist. This time, you didn't try to scooch away. You didn't try to get closer either, and he left it at that, the soft hum of post orgasmic bliss filling his body and tempting his lids to drop.

"Goodnight, daddy," you whispered, or sighed, he couldn't be sure, your voice so soft as it breached the sleepy, softened walls of his mind. His heart fluttered in his chest, fingertips brushing yours.

"Goodnight, baby."

He tried not to think about tomorrow. Tried not to get excited over the possibility of you getting pregnant; of finally being able to be a real family, the kind he could never imagine with anyone else.

How could Namjoon ever consider fate cruel? Meeting your mother has led him to meeting you, and in a twisted, tender way he loved the role he took on for you. He loved providing for you; he loved the authority that came with his title. And he loved you, so fucking much. Fate has been kind to him in all aspects so far; even sweeping your mother out of the way for him. He didn't have to lift a finger. Before she died, he had started thinking that she might need a little push, too. Down the stairs perhaps. But all is well that ends well, he supposed, and this ended as well as it could without him interfering.

Did he feel any grief at all? No. Why would he? The woman has been far too self absorbed, far too neglectful of you. She was became nothing but a burden; one he was glad to be rid of.

He knew that wasn't the case for you, however. You were too kind to think that way. He didn't mind, though. No matter what, he wouldn't let guilt eat you alive. It was the last promise he made to himself before falling asleep, his arms tightening around you. He'd fill you up with his love and his cum until you could think of nothing else, glowing and warm.

You were his little girl. He'd take his time; and he had all the time in the world.

[thearchvillain]

gardenias. | nikolai

part I

nikolai lantsov x reader

summary: the setting is a grand event hosted at os alta with the intention of finding a future queen for crown prince vasily. the reader is a merchant's daughter trying to keep a low profile after her parents had dragged her there (against her will) with the hopes that she might catch the prince's attention. she, on the other hand, has different plans. plans that get entirely upheaved by none other than the younger prince nikolai who interrupts her illicit late-night meeting in the winter garden. now she's caught attention of one of the two people whose scrutiny she'd been trying so hard to avoid for the last few days of the event and she's not entirely sure she actually minds it.

preview: Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?"  "Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it." "Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?" "You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous."  She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?" He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you."  "That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant."  "You're blushing again."

word count: 5k (i know. don't @ me)

tropes/warnings: not cannon, vasily's still alive, nikolai's kinda suspicious that y/n is about to commit some kind of treason and it's reflected in the way he acts, there is tension and innuendos though sljdf, y/n does get a bit upset/frustrated at one point, nikolai does apologise but does not back down from his plan to uncover her secrets bc where would the fun be in that, there is physical touch

a/n: i'm not going to lie to you, this is absolutely going to be a multi-part. i'm enjoying writing nikolai being a teasing menace far too much not to explore it further, and i think nikolai would be far too curious and fascinated by y/n to just let it go (and a bit worried about what she's up to). note that while this is their first time meeting there's still a lot of tension that will only continue to grow, so i hope you enjoy it!

The air inside the palace winter garden was laden with the scent of jasmine. There was an oppressiveness to it that stood in stark contrast with the fresh night air she'd come in from, leaving her heady and wondering if she might suffocate from it by the time the lieutenant arrived. That would be quite the sight - a page ripped out of a book of fairytales and brought to life, a pretty young thing laid peacefully amongst the blossoming flowers, caught in the last moment before the colour had drained out of her cheeks. She would lay out her arm like so, blue petals spilling out of her still fingers and... Ghezen. This place had a way of bringing out the morbid in her. Must be something about all the death imagery she'd sifted through earlier that day in the royal library - Ravkan stories certainly had a proclivity for martyred girls and their lovely, tragic endings. It did nothing but fortify her belief that breaking into the winter garden and hiding out had been a good idea. Y/N had no interest in actually experiencing martyrdom or tragic endings, thank you very much.

That is if one ignored the fact she was tempting fate by agreeing to an illicit meeting with a man her parents had most definitely not had in mind when they'd dragged her all the way to Ravka with them. A man who was distinctly late to said meeting. Y/N twisted the leaf she'd plucked from one of the bushes, her fingers sticky from where she'd crushed it and unsteady with the nervous sort of energy that accompanied late nights and ill-advised impulses. She'd already stood up and sat back down several times when the sound of a door opening interrupted her mid-movement and she slipped behind one of the stone columns that obscured her from view. The silence stretched for a long moment before the door clicked closed once more. The stone roses of the column were biting into the skin between Y/N's shoulderblades where she pressed herself against it as if she might blend into it by the sheer force of will. Another stretch of silence before the sound of a key turning in the lock made her start, her chest tightening. Silence. Whoever was there must've just noticed the door was left unlocked and decided to close it. Good. Y/N fingered the silver hairpin she'd used to break into the garden before pushing herself away from the column and slipping towards the glass door that led onto the palace grounds. She didn't want to risk anyone seeing her going back through the door that had just been locked.

"What's the rush?" A voice came from somewhere behind her. "You're missing all the flowers. Or is the collection not exotic enough for the refined tastes of a merchling princess?" 

Y/N halted mid-step, her shoulders drawn taut as she went very, very still. This was not the lieutenant's voice - it was just a bit too silvery, too playful, too... refined in its accent. Not a native speaker, but a very well-educated one. 

"I... the smell - it's overpowering." 

A soft chuckle. "Perhaps the lady would find it less offensive if she came to visit the gardens during the day." There was a slight pause. She swore she could almost hear him smirk in the way his voice trailed off. "As most people do."

She still had her back turned to him, her head tipped slightly back to look up towards the glass ceiling as if she expected to find a solution or at least strength to deal with this up there. "You are here too, are you not?" 

"Touche." He moved then, his steps loud against the marble floor but slow and languid, as if he were a predator stalking a fear-frozen doe in some rather exotic forest. He was much closer when he spoke this time. "But I like the smell. It's jasmine. Night-blooming jasmine to be specific. My mother's favourite." 

Y/N did not see what was the relevance of his confession but she assumed he might be slightly more compliant with the whole keeping quiet about this business if she played along. "Does she garden?"

This made him laugh. It was a nice sort of laugh - the kind that belonged to someone intimately familiar with the sound, whose mouth had been made for laughing and who found her question infinitely amusing. "Saints, no. That would be quite the sight though - my mother with dirt-stained hands, taking care of a living thing."

Y/N did not respond. This sounded like a confession too, one she was not privy to. She felt like she was missing a puzzle piece. He waited in silence for a moment, and when she didn't answer she heard the rustle of fabric as he must have leaned against the column behind her. "Are you not going to turn around?" 

"I was escaping, remember? It would be silly to show my face now when I still have a chance of getting away."

He made a noncommittal sound. "I didn't realise you were fleeing. Women don't tend to run away from me very often. How... thrilling." 

Y/N almost snorted at this display of ego. She resigned herself to a sort of small, vague sound that could be left up to interpretation. "Are you going to stop me?" 

"Would you like me to?" His voice had gone low and goading, but he never moved from his spot. It had occurred to her that it might be advisable to be more nervous about this strange man standing behind her, but this felt more like a game than a threat and Y/N couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. 

"A thrilling proposition, but one I will have to refuse. Allegedly I'm a sensible creature, and none of this sounds very sensible."

"Neither does meeting Lieutenant Zaitsev in a winter garden at three in the morning, but here we are. Minus Zaitsev, unfortunately." He said unfortunately in a way people did when they found nothing unfortunate about a situation at all. 

Y/N spun around, suddenly very aware of the sound of rushing blood and her own quickened heartbeat that rang in her ears. Prince Nikolai looked as pleased by this reaction as she imagined a cat would as it dug its claws into some poor, unsuspecting thing or got a big plate of full-fat cream. At least now the gardening thing made complete sense. 

He was in his full regalia, as polished as he'd been when she'd seen him earlier this evening, all shiny medals and sharp lines and the sort of lazy indifference that came with inherited importance and disarming good looks. She'd half expected the illusion of grandeur to disappear once she saw him up close, but the prince remained as impeccable as he'd been from afar, almost to an irritating degree. Y/N lowered her eyes. 

"My apologies, your Highness. I didn't recognise your voice."

"How could you? We've never had the pleasure of speaking to each other." Y/N thought she might have been imagining the subtle note of accusation in his voice. He tipped his head to the side, eyes fixed on Y/N with the sort of intense curiosity that she could feel burning against her skin. "Don't apologise. I've had enough of performative politeness to last me a year."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, her eyes flitting up to his face for a brief moment of offence. "Are you implying my apology is performative?" 

Nikolai caught her eyes and smiled at that. She had been right - he had the sort of mouth that lent itself to charming, easy smiles and was hard to look away from. "You don't seem the type to be sorry about any of this. Except maybe getting caught."

Y/N didn't deign answer that, there was no point in pretending when he hardly appeared open to changing his mind if the knowing smirk on his lips was anything to go by. She took a slight step backwards when he pushed himself away from the column and moved towards her. He side-stepped her, though there was still an undue amount of proximity between them as he passed by her side, eyes trailing along her features before he focused on something behind her. 

"You know who I am, don't you?" she asked. He'd called her a merchling princess, he'd known exactly why she was here and who she'd intended to meet. Something was unsettling about the casual way in which he considered her question as if he were toying with her the same way he was toying with the leaves of some unnamed bush he'd stopped to observe. 

He was quiet for a while, the only sound a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he plucked a pretty, pink flower from its stem. "It's in my job description," he said simply as if that might explain the overabundance of information on her. 

"Is it? I've heard princes have people for that. To whisper over your shoulder whenever they see someone coming your way."

A laugh this time. "You're not wrong, but I find those quite overbearing and tough to get rid of when one wishes to slip away unnoticed. I'm sure you can relate." 

She hummed in response, eyes narrowed. "Where's the lieutenant?"

"Am I boring you that much? You wound me, Miss Braam." 

Y/N barely held back a frustrated sound that she felt building in her chest. He was infuriating on purpose, she was sure. She'd seen him interact with people tonight and he went about it with such elegance and ease that there was no doubt Nikolai Lantsov had a way with both words and people. 

"I would do no such thing. You're a delight," she said dryly. And it wasn't a lie - Nikolai did seem delightful in a precarious sort of way, but Y/N felt far too on edge to appreciate it. "He promised..."

Nikolai interrupted her, one gloved hand raised as if he were placating a startled wild animal. "I sent him away," he said, turning to face her, "I must say, if I were in his place and meeting you in such a lovely place at a such late hour I would've personally put up much more of a fight. Alas, he obeyed - so you're stuck with me instead." 

Y/N felt the frustration rising, choking out the words in her throat even as she pushed it down to try and appear forlorn rather than annoyed. "Oh," was all she said, turning her face away so that the shadowy darkness offered some cover. 

She saw him shift in the periphery of her vision and then there were fingers on the edges of her jaw, the material soft and runny against her skin. Not cotton, silk. Of course it would be silk. She didn't fight him as he guided her chin so that she was looking at him once again, determined to appear deeply hurt by Zaitsev's abandonment rather than irritated by the fact she would now have to come up with another plan to get the materials from him. Nikolai's eyes trailed along her face as if he were drinking her in, so gentle and sympathetic she almost believed it. Almost.

"As lovely as you look in all your teary-eyed, heartbroken glory," Nikolai said, sounding amused, "I sincerely doubt you are anything of the sort. It's that Ketterdam blood in your veins. Pragmatism above all else, no?"

She tried to free her chin from his fingers, but as she did the grip suddenly became less gentle, holding her firmly in place. He smiled when he saw the flash of irritation cross her features. 

"That's more like it." He sounded almost satisfied to see the facade crack, amused by her reaction. What in Ghezen's name was his problem? 

She jerked her chin against his grip in a display of defiance before staring him down. "And is pragmatism an unfamiliar concept here in Ravka? Quit playing, your Highness. We could've been done with this much quicker if you'd just asked your questions at the start."

He only hummed in response, still looking at her as if he were observing a particularly riveting piece of art, one that might reveal some secret symbolism hiding beneath the surface. "Maybe I didn't want it to be quick?"

"I also sincerely doubt that." 

He chuckled and Y/N felt his warm breath brush against her flushed cheeks. His grip had loosened, but she still felt the warmth of his fingers seeping into her skin. "Why? You're a curious thing. Brought here to be paraded about for the Court in hopes of securing a fruitful marriage, no? But then you very adamantly avoid both my brother and me. It's a bit strange... I suppose I wanted to take my time with you."

"Maybe that was the ploy all along, the whole avoidance thing. It got you curious, didn't it?" She leaned into his touch very intentionally then, overly aware of the way he shifted them to accommodate her, her eyebrow raised in an attempt at mirroring his playfulness.

"I admire your talent for improvisation, Miss Braam. Really, it's quite charming..."

"But...?" She'd sensed he was going in that direction and interrupted him before he could say it. Nikolai chuckled. 

"But, I'm not buying it. It would've been far too risky of a plan. And unless you are more arrogant than I am - which I doubt - I don't think you expected or wanted anyone to come looking. Aside from Zaitsev, of course."

Y/N sneered at him then, finally irritated enough that she reached up to grab his wrist and pull his hand away from her jaw. The wool of his uniform was rough beneath her fingers, golden buttons digging into her palm where she gripped it. She hated how aware of him she was as she let go. Nikolai let her, grinning delightedly at this sudden display of insolence. 

"Not particularly gentle. I like that."

"Stop pretending to flirt with me, your Highness." Because that's what it was - make-believe. She thought she could see something more sinister lurking beneath it. If he didn't believe her she was meeting Zaitsev for a moonlight tryst between two lovers - which in all fairness was an entirely correct assumption - then he must've thought she had more insidious intentions. So why wasn't he dragging her back to the party, demanding answers? Perhaps making a spectacle of it was his way of intimidation, it certainly fit the aura of aloof confidence he was displaying.

"Who says I'm pretending?"

She shot him a dry look in lieu of an answer. "If you're not going to ask what my real reason was for meeting Zaistev then I'm going to ask how in Ghezen's name did you know we were meeting in the first place?" 

He watched her for a moment, head bent to look down at her and a smirk playing on his lips, then he turned and went around her to stroll between the lush flowers. She watched the moonlight glint off the golden details of his uniform, his hands clasped behind his back, something languorous and insolent about the way he moved. "Now, that would be telling," he said, "And I like to keep an air of mystery about me. It adds to the charm I think." 

"Fine. Why care to find out about it at all?" 

He halted for a second as if considering his answer. "I told you. You never bothered to introduce yourself, and the whole charade has been going on for three nights and days now. I was already suspicious on the second day as to what exactly you were doing here."

Realising they weren't going anywhere any time soon Y/N made her way over to the fountain, the soft rush of water behind her back soothing her nerves as she sat down. "So your explanation is that your ego made you do it?"

"My ego makes me do a lot of things, Miss Braam. A character fault, I know, but no one's perfect." He didn't sound sorry about it at all. 

"I have a perfectly sensible explanation for that, if you'd like to hear it?"

He was picking apart another flower, like a gardener's worst nightmare when he looked back towards her and smirked. "Another one? Are we dropping the playing hard-to-get ploy?"

Y/N ignored the jab, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head as she watched him lean in to smell some unremarkable bush. "My parents are tentatively hopeful, but I know better..."

"Of course you do."

"Would you stop that, you menace." 

Nikolai started laughing and Y/N realised that all the other times he'd laughed or chuckled at her words it had been only a good mimicry of amusement. This was the real thing. She snorted and looked up towards the glass ceiling in faux exasperation, hiding her smile.

"Anyway. It's the crown prince's hand in marriage that's on the table, right? You said it yourself - us merchling princesses are a pragmatic bunch. As nice as it sounds, I'm no royalty, so why waste my breath? Your kingdom needs political alliances, not money. Nothing's going to come of it." She shrugged. "And if I'm debasing myself like I'm a dairy cow on a cattle fair, I'd prefer not to do it in vain. I too have an ego, you know."

When she dropped her head back down she realised Nikolai was watching her from where he stood, head tipped to the side, his fingers absentmindedly plucking the petals off a rose he was holding. He seemed to be considering saying something but decided against it. 

"From what I've been told, your father is a very rich man," he said eventually, "And I find that sort of thing makes a woman rather attractive. Political alliances can be bought, you know." 

"Is that why you keep not-pretending to flirt? Does my father's money make me so irresistible?"

"Well that, and the insolence." He smirked. "But mostly insolence. Us Ravkans, we're just not as pragmatic." 

Y/N rolled her eyes, though without malice. "I can tell." She sighed, watching her fingers where they dipped into the cold water. "And besides, I'm not too keen on being shipped off to a foreign kingdom. Much to my mother's dismay."

"Not even for a crown?"

Her gaze shifted back to Nikolai who was now strolling over to her, appearing genuinely curious this time. He looked like something out of a children's book, like he might be the one to discover the fair, dead girl she'd imagined in a field of flowers and mourn over her body, impressive even in tragedy. She supposed she understood why all the girls when they were done with Vasily swarmed to try and get Nikolai's attention instead.

"I have no interest in crowns. They seem heavy."

He stopped a few paces away, watching her for a moment before a small, knowing smile bloomed across his lips. "What is it that interests you then?"

Y/N was glad he'd asked if only so she could grin insolently at him and repeat what he'd said to her before, "Now, that would be telling, your Highness. And I like to keep an air of mystery about myself too." 

He was standing over her now, looking down at where she was sprawled back on the cold stone of the fountain, a playful glint in his eyes. "Fair. I suppose I should've seen that one coming from a mile away."

"You really should have." She agreed with amusement, head tipped back to look up at him. For a moment they stared at each other, him standing so close she could feel the fabric of his pants brush against her knee, and her leaning back on her hands, aware that she could but didn't want to shift away. She'd almost forgotten she was supposed to be rather annoyed about her failed meeting and when the thought appeared uninvited at the forefront of her mind she couldn't help breaking eye contact and looking at the dark corners of the winter garden behind Nikolai. 

"Why were you meeting him?" he asked then, his voice more serious than it had ever been since they started talking. Y/N didn't look at him right away, worrying at her lip as she thought about what she would say. Playful avoidance didn't seem like a good choice here, but neither did the truth, at least not the whole truth. 

She sighed. "He has something I want." 

When she pulled herself up to stand Nikolai shifted slightly to the side so that he was right by her side, not really blocking her path but close enough to stop her if he decided to. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. 

Y/N looked up at him, a determined look in her eyes. "I'm not telling." 

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "I assume you can see how that might seem rather worrisome to me."

Y/N dipped her chin in a small nod of acknowledgement. 

"And I also assume you know I won't just let it go."

"You? Unrelenting? I never would've guessed." 

He smiled at that, though it was a bit strained. "I could drag you back to your parents now. Demand an explanation." 

Y/N appeared to consider his words for a moment. "Yes. I suppose you could." She dropped her eyes down to his hands where he had them shoved into the pockets of his uniform. Her skin remembered the grip he'd had on her chin earlier that evening, prickling at the thought of those silk gloves wrapped around her arm. Was this fear she felt in the pit of her stomach? 

Nikolai must have noticed because he followed her gaze down and let out a soft chuckle when he saw the prickled skin on her bare arms and the uncertain look on her face. "I didn't mean it literally. Though I could, if that's your preference?"

Y/N felt the blood rush to her face, hot and burning, certain the blush was already spreading from her chest up to her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. Collect yourself, you frivolous fool. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she said, voice biting. 

Nikolai chuckled. She couldn't see him with her eyes shut, but she could imagine he was looking at her, thoroughly amused. "I can, I just don't want to. I was wondering how much it would take to make you blush." 

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "Satisfied?"

"Very much so." 

"Great, now that we've pleased you, let's get this over with. -- I am warning you though, my mother is prone to fainting when startled." 

She tried to side-step him to head for the door, assuming he'd follow her, but Nikolai deftly held out his hand to catch her wrist and pull her back to where she had been standing. There was no harshness to it, he was careful not to grip too hard or pull too strongly, but Y/N still gasped when she felt stopped in her path. 

Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?" 

"Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it."

"Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?"

"You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous." 

She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?"

He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you." 

"That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant." 

"You're blushing again."

She reached up to smack him on his arm with her free hand. For a moment he looked genuinely caught off guard and Y/N couldn't help the smug self-satisfaction that swelled in her chest at the startled look he gave her. She just hit a prince. A real, very gilded, very irritating prince. 

"You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Her chest rose and fell on quickened breath and she could hear her pulse thrumming against her ribcage like some caged bird startled by the way her voice rose in irritation. 

Then Nikolai started laughing and it was Y/N's turn to look alarmed by the display. She stared at him as he tried to collect himself several times, running his hand through his hair and leaving it charmingly tousled as he tipped his head back and took a deep breath to calm himself. 

"Like I said. You do have a tendency for treason - like hitting a prince." 

"I barely touched you, and you had it coming," she said, then shook her head and looked up above his head, "Sorry. I lost my temper." 

"No, no - it's fine. I did have it coming." 

She felt his thumb brush against the inner side of her wrist, suddenly aware that he'd never let go of it. His fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, "Breathe. Your heart's beating like you just outran a bear. I'm not going to tell anyone about tonight." 

She did not think anything good would come of admitting the current state of her pulse had very little to do with the fear of her parents and everything to do with the way every sense in her body was heightened by his proximity. She hardly wanted to admit that silly reaction of her body to herself, much less him. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay." 

"Okay?" He was watching her when she opened her eyes again. "Do you want to go back to your parents or your room?"

She stared at him for a moment, uncertain. Had she really appeared distressed enough for him to so suddenly switch gears? She searched his face for anything suspicious as if she half-expected this sudden calmness in his voice to be a trap. 

"I'm suspicious. Not cruel," he said when she failed to answer. She felt him release her wrist as if finally satisfied enough with her pulse going down to let go. "I crossed the line and upset you. It wasn't my intention."

"Wasn't it?" There was an accusation in her voice, one she didn't realise was there until it slipped out without her permission. When had they switched roles of the accuser and the accused?

Nikolai looked away, looking almost repentant. "I don't know. I got carried away - I guess I didn't expect you to be... like that." 

She wasn't sure what like that meant and was half-afraid of asking. Maybe he'd say something ridiculous and then she'd be blushing again. No, that was a ridiculous thought. This entire exchange was ridiculous. She almost expected to wake up tomorrow and fully believe it was a fever dream. 

"So what I just... leave now? No consequences?" she said, sounding deeply doubtful. 

"Yes and no. I said I wouldn't tell." He finally looked back at her, his gaze scouring her face. "I didn't say I wouldn't keep trying to find out what you're hiding." 

"It's nothing bad if that's what you're worried about." 

"You've tried to lie to me several times tonight. Do you expect me to just believe you?" 

He did have a point there. Y/N pursed her lips. "What then?"

Nikolai seemed to consider her then. Under scrutiny, Y/N suddenly became very aware of their proximity, which in all fairness had been entirely her fault. She stepped away uneasily, worrying at her lip. Ghezen, he really was deeply infuriating, for more than one reason. 

"You'll see tomorrow."

Y/N's head shot up. "Tomorrow?"

"Save me a dance."

She was certain she looked like there were rusted cogs inside her head grinding against each other as she tried to process his words. There was clearly a double meaning in there, there always seemed to be with him, but it wasn't immediately obvious to her. 

Nikolai smirked as he watched her work it out. "Don't overheat that pretty little head of yours. I like the way it works." 

She made a face at him. "Why would you... oh."

"Oh," he repeated, smug. 

Save me a dance. It was a threat, not a request. He would approach her tomorrow in the middle of the after-dinner ball, in front of everyone. She would know it was for show, but to everyone else, it would appear as if he'd singled her out and shown her his favour. Out of the blue at that. 

She shot him a dirty look. "That's low."

"I don't consider myself a particularly immoral person, but I will do what I have to."

She would find herself dragged out of her carefully-crafted obscurity and thrust under scrutiny. Her parents would be delighted, no doubt, a welcome reprieve from the frustration her disobedience was causing them currently. She couldn't think of a worse thing. 

"Unless, of course, you decide to tell me about it beforehand." At some point, he'd strolled away from her and plucked another one of those poor flowers. "I'll still ask, of course, but more subtly." 

She stared at him, disbelieving. Did he just threaten her and then proceed to imply he'd still ask her to dance with him?

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Very well, we can play that game. I will warn you though, I tend to bite when cornered."

"I was hoping you would."

"You... you are just the worst," she said, irritation colouring her voice higher than normal, before turning around to head for the door. In the smallest, most meagre act of defiance, she decided not to tell him goodnight and instead storm out without a word. 

He was not having it. "Y/N?"

She produced some indeterminate sound of frustration. "What now, your Highness?" 

"Call me Nikolai."

"I will not." 

A chuckle. Then the sound of his steps as he approached her from the back. "I do wish we'd met on some less... dramatic terms. Honestly." 

She couldn't ignore him when he went around her to stand in her field of vision, but she did shoot him a dirty look. There was a flower in his hands now, so delicate and white that it almost blended into the whiteness of his gloves, only the leaves visible in the darkness. He hadn't yet dismembered this one. 

"Since you don't like the smell of jasmine," he said, as if that explained everything, and held it out to her.

Y/N considered not taking it, but curiosity got the better of her and she reached out her hand tentatively to pluck the flower from his fingers. "What is it?"

"Gardenia. A personal favourite, at least scent-wise." He stared at the flower in her hand for a moment, then smiled. "Goodnight, Miss Braam."

She watched him stroll back towards the door that led into the palace, unhurried, languid and infuriatingly prepossessing. For a moment she stood there, reeling, before she headed for the other door, the one that led out into the gardens, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It was only once she was outside that she realised he hadn't lied about the flower, its fragrance a sweet, charming thing. Later that night, when she returned to her room she would put it in a small crystal glass and place it next to her bed so that when she fell asleep her mind was still full of that fragrance and the memory of Nikolai's thumb pressed against her pulse point. 

[yanderes-galore]

Anon couldn't be here for the request period so I reserved two requests for them.

Anon said: "I know you said writing self-aware stuff isn’t your favorite thing, but I loved the Self-Aware!Glamrock Freddy thing you've written and now have a mighty need for more self-aware Security Breach, specifically with the other Glamrocks considering they're not only chasing you around the entire game, but they also get smashed up in pretty brutal ways by the player (which I imagine would be painful to go through multiple playthroughs). That said, I feel like Roxanne Wolf would be also be a good ‘character made self-aware’ candidate, as it’s stated in-game that she’s able to see things the others can’t, which would translate well to a character that can perceive the virtual environment they’re in. May we have self-aware hcs for her? Possibly including her being shattered multiple times and how she'd feel/react?"

A/N: I suppose I can, yes! I'll just be rambling about my thoughts on this. Plus, I will also mention Security Breach main game and Ruin in this a bit.

Yandere! Self-Aware AU! Roxanne Wolf Concept

(Mentions Security Breach and Ruin)

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Feelings of betrayal, Angst, AI becoming sentient, Fear of abandonment, Violence, Trauma mention, Twisted sense of attachment, Disturbing themes.

When it comes to the other Glamrocks in FNAF Security Breach, I'd say they're in worse condition than Freddy.

While Freddy appears to have a relatively nice time interacting with the player through Gregory, Roxy does not.

Think about it, Roxy's experience with the player character main game is getting a kart smashed into her face and her eyes removed-

Which is why I feel most of her feelings would develop in Ruin more than the main game.

I think it's an interesting idea to mention Roxy's eyes.

It is mentioned in game that her eyes can see things others can't.

In this case it's not just seeing walls, it's seeing you.

For some reason she's more attuned to your presence than any of the others.

She can sense you/see you using Gregory as some sort of host.

It takes her awhile but she soon realizes your actions are "pre-coded" for the most part.

Certain events in the game have to happen... Roxy learns this as you play the game over and over again.

At first she doesn't understand why you'd hurt her.

Why do you keep putting her through all this pain?

It does hurt her when you have to beat her down and take her eyes.

It does hurt her when you abandon her after that.

She doesn't get it, she wishes it would stop.

However, part of her realizes it's not in your control when she hears you comment on it.

You appear to feel bad for her fate.

Even when she has to suffer through it countless times.

She still hates the fact she's forced to deal with the pain.

Yet she can't bring herself to hate you fully.

She knows you're causing her pain... but you must not mean it, right?

Roxy really does hope she is you favorite....

At first she hates you but can't bring herself to express such feelings.

In a way she's curious about you, even when she's busted and shattered.

You probably don't mean it.

Oh but she hates the pain.

I feel where her obsession really starts is in Ruin.

She's even worse than how she originally was, constantly crying about how she looks and the trauma of it all most likely.

This is when she notices you take a new vessel, Cassie.

As Cassie... you're so much nicer.

The game allows you to be so much softer and Roxy finds himself chasing that comfort.

She's still hurt from the previous events... but in Ruin she feels compelled to help you.

Here... it feels like you've come to make things right.

Roxy fears being alone more than anything.

So with your host being Cassie she'll probably find herself growing attached again.

Her senses would become dulled after her eyes are gone but she still knows you're there.

She remembers what you look like and yearns to see you again.

Roxy develops an unhealthy attachment towards you, due to the fact she feels any attention is good attention I guess.

She tries not to blame you for her destruction but she can't ignore it.

Roxy loves/hates you.

She hates you as Gregory, stealing her sight and smashing her to bits.

Yet she loves you as Cassie, fixing your mistakes by trying to help her.

Roxy knows she can't truly live without you.

That's true in more ways than one, too.

Roxy may be willing to tolerate her destruction if it means she doesn't lose you.

She fears you leaving her, even though you've caused her pain she feels you can fix her too.

In reality she really does feel like some sort of toy to you.

She isn't really sure how to feel.

Would things be better if she wasn't so sentient?

Or would she feel... more alone?

Safe to say Roxy's feelings towards you are rather conflicted due to what Gregory and Cassie do to her.

Between her being shattered and her obsessive nature towards you... she isn't sure what she wants.

Such decisions only make the wolf suffer more, unfortunately.

Even by the end of it all... Roxy can't bring herself to hate you.

In the end... she needs you.

She just hopes you need her too... even if it means she's your toy to break.

[dndfantasygirl]

Family Matters (Prologue)

Rating: Mature Word count: 1.8k Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo

Summary: After an argument with his eldest daughter leads to summoning a shadow from his past, Astarion must push aside his fears to protect the family he never thought he'd have.

*Link to AO3 Post

A decade ago, the mere notion of Astarion becoming a father would have incited raucous laughter from him. The very idea seemed ludicrous, an absurdity to be dismissed without a second thought. His life, after all, had been defined by shadows and deceit, devoid of any room for such domestic concepts.

However, fate has a way of weaving unexpected threads into the tapestry of one's existence. Astarion found himself thrust into an unlikely role as a parental figure, albeit under circumstances he could scarcely have imagined. The responsibility fell upon him during the year Arabella journeyed alongside them following the tumultuous events surrounding the Netherbrain. Delphie, with her protective instincts and fierce devotion to Arabella, would have surely taken his head had any harm befallen the young tiefling under his watch.

Yet, even as he fulfilled this role, Astarion remained ignorant of his own capacity for fatherhood. Being a spawn, he had assumed himself to be inherently infertile, an assumption born of his undead nature. It was a revelation that blindsided him, hitting with the force of a bolt from the blue, when Delphie unexpectedly found herself carrying their child.

Despite the persistent curse of vampirism lingering within him, Astarion eventually found a semblance of solace in the form of a ring—a small, unassuming trinket that bestowed upon him the remarkable ability to withstand the searing touch of sunlight. While it didn't eradicate his affliction entirely, it offered him a newfound freedom to bask in the daylight without fear of immolation, a luxury he had long believed to be forever beyond his reach. And though the tantalizing prospect of once again traversing running water and crossing thresholds uninvited remained an unattainable dream, he discovered an unexpected contentment in the life he now led.

His union with Delphie blossomed into a marriage not long before they parted ways with Arabella. Their love, tempered by adversity, had only grown stronger, fortified by a bond that transcended the boundaries of mortality and time. Yet, their joy was tinged with trepidation when Delphie discovered she carried their child—a miracle wrought from the interplay of vampiric heritage and a serendipitous twist of fate.

Gale's revelation regarding the transfer of fertility through blood had offered a glimpse into the intricacies of their unconventional family tree, shedding light on the origins of their impending parenthood. Astarion grappled with doubts, plagued by uncertainty over his aptitude for fatherhood, while Delphie harbored fears of reprisal from the countless enemies they had amassed over the years.

So, to ensure the safety of their offspring and as a belated wedding gift, the dragons, Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart all came together to build a comfortable home inside the secluded Dragon Cove. It would be a safe environment for the children to grow up in. Of course, the children would frequently take the portal with them to go to Baldur's Gate when errands needed to be run, but they would never leave their side. The only exception would be if they were put in the care of Delphie's step-siblings or Shadowheart.

Delphie's determination to find a cure for Astarion's vampirism remained steadfast, an unwavering beacon of hope that burned bright even amidst the joys and responsibilities of parenthood. Though their family had expanded to include two precious daughters, her quest for a remedy persisted, fueled by a love that knew no bounds and a fervent desire to see her husband freed from the shackles of his cursed existence.

Yet, as the demands of parenthood grew, they found themselves facing a dilemma—the dragons were ill-equipped to care for two young elven girls for extended periods of time when they received a new lead for a cure. It was then that Shadowheart emerged as a beacon of support and solace.

Despite her aloof exterior, Shadowheart harbored a hidden reservoir of warmth and affection, particularly when it came to the two young girls who had captured her heart. In them, she saw echoes of innocence and resilience, qualities she had long thought lost amidst the trials and tribulations of her own tumultuous journey. As she watched over them, a fierce sense of protectiveness welled within her, driving her to become not only their guardian but their confidante and mentor as well.

In a gesture of profound significance, Shadowheart assumed the mantle of godmother to their daughters—a role she embraced with unwavering dedication and tenderness. From storytelling beneath starlit skies to imparting lessons of wisdom and courage, she showered the girls with a love that transcended the boundaries of blood and kinship.

They were celebrating their firstborn, Scarlette's ninth birthday at the House of Hope, a midpoint thanks to Hope that allowed Karlach to see her nieces every few months.

Leta, as they affectionately called her, bore a striking resemblance to her mother, a reflection of Delphie's grace and beauty manifested in the form of big, verdant eyes that sparkled with mischief and a delicate button nose that bespoke of innocence and wonder. Yet, amidst the familiar contours of her mother's visage, there lay a subtle reminder of her unique heritage—a line of faint golden scales adorning the curve of each cheek, a legacy of ancient lineage and untold secrets.

From an early age, Leta had displayed an affinity for the arcane arts—a gift inherited from her mother that bloomed with each passing day, unleashing torrents of raw magic whenever her emotions soared to dizzying heights. Though her burgeoning powers often led to chaos and mischief, there was an undeniable beauty in the way she danced amidst the currents of magic, a testament to the untamed potential that lay dormant within her soul.

Yet, despite the undeniable bond forged by blood and love, Astarion couldn't shake the lingering sense of distance that seemed to grow between them with each passing year. Their interactions were marked by heated debates and clashes of will, a testament to their stubborn natures and the tumultuous currents that surged between them. And yet, amidst the tumult, there remained an unbreakable bond—a father's love that transcended the petty squabbles and misunderstandings of mortal existence.

The first time Astarion cradled Leta in his arms, a swell of emotion washed over him—a tidal wave of love and tenderness that threatened to overwhelm his hardened heart. In that fleeting moment, as he gazed into her wide, innocent eyes, he glimpsed the boundless potential of a life yet to unfold—a future brimming with promise and possibility, guided by the unwavering love of a father who would move mountains to see her smile.

As the years swept by, Astarion and Delphie's family expanded once more with the arrival of their second daughter, Lilliana, affectionately known as Lily. Unlike her elder sister, Leta, whose features bore a striking resemblance to their mother, Lily's appearance echoed that of her father in unmistakable ways.

Pale as moonlight, Lily's complexion carried the ethereal pallor of her vampiric heritage. Yet, it was in her eyes that Astarion's legacy shone most brilliantly—crimson orbs that glimmered with an intensity that mirrored the flames of a dying sunset. And then there were the fangs—protruding from her delicate lips with a subtle prominence that set her apart from her sister. While Leta too possessed the telltale signs of vampiric lineage, Lily's were more pronounced.

Yet, despite her father's influence, Lilliana possessed her own unique charm—a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a smile that could light up the darkest of nights. Unlike her sister, who often found solace in the depths of her mother's embrace, Lily gravitated towards Astarion.

In Lily, Astarion saw echoes of his own past—a reminder of the life he had left behind, of the darkness and the shadows that had once consumed him. And yet, in her laughter and her boundless curiosity, he found a glimmer of hope—a beacon of light that illuminated the path towards redemption and forgiveness.

Though he loved both of his daughters with a fierceness that knew no bounds, there was something about Lily—the way she clung to his side, the way her laughter danced upon the air—that tugged at his heartstrings in a way that was uniquely her own. She was his babe, his little vampiric sprite.

Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at Delphie's frantic concern over Lily's penchant for nibbling on anything and everything once she turned four. No matter how many times he reassured her that it was merely a natural phase of their daughter's vampiric development, she couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at her heart.

As the years passed, the bond between Leta and Lily only grew stronger, evolving into a steadfast companionship that transcended the confines of mere siblinghood. They shared everything—from their dreams to their deepest fears and secrets. Together, they laughed and played, their laughter echoing off the walls of the Dragon Cove like a sweet melody.

Even in their moments of disagreement and petty squabbles, there was an undeniable closeness that bound them together. They slept curled up together, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, finding solace and comfort in the presence of each other's warmth.

Inseparable in every sense of the word, Leta and Lily navigated the twists and turns of life's journey hand in hand, their laughter and tears intertwined like the threads of a tapestry.

As Astarion reclined in the comfort of the regal armchair, his gaze softened with affection as he observed his daughters, Leta and Lily, frolicking together in the foyer of the House of Hope. Their laughter filled the air like the tinkling of bells, a symphony of joy that resonated deep within his soul. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, moments like these served as a poignant reminder of the precious gift of family—a gift he had once believed to be forever beyond his reach.

The warmth of Delphie's hand on his shoulder and the gentle press of her lips against his cheek stirred a surge of gratitude within him—a silent acknowledgment of the love and support that had sustained him through the darkest of days.

And so, as he sat amidst the splendor of the House of Hope, surrounded by the laughter and love of his family, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns of fate that had led him to this moment. So, yes. If someone had dared to suggest to him a decade ago that he would one day be a father, he would have dismissed it as the fanciful ramblings of a madman. And yet, here he was, basking in the warmth of his daughters' smiles and the tender embrace of his beloved wife—a testament to the unpredictable nature of life's journey and the transformative power of love to defy even the most improbable of odds.

[lykaonimagines]

Absence of You - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Agent F!Reader

Word Count: 3,304

Description: Y/N’s sent away on a mission for months, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in her life and how badly he wants her home.

Other Things: A little angsty in bits, fluffy in others. Mostly fluff. Established relationship.

Warnings: Sherlock’s got a bit of self doubt/anxiety/separation anxiety. 

Masterlist

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighs as his little brother tosses an envelope onto his desk. “You cannot continue this.”

“I can and will,” Sherlock responds, staring his brother down. “Just see to it that she gets this one.”

“You know there is no guarantee of delivery with missions such as this, and this is the 23rd letter you’ve written. She’s been gone three months. Get ahold of yourself,” he argues, brushing the envelope to the side. “I’ve accepted that you two share feelings for one another, but this is becoming pathetic. Let her do her job Sherlock.”

“Three months and not a single word Mycroft? And that seems normal to you?” Sherlock snaps as he starts pacing the office. “How do you even know she’s safe?”

“She’s managed to get one report back herself, and her partner in the endeavor has gotten back several more. She’s better at making openings for him to do so than getting away herself. I also have agents that discreetly check on them. She’s fine brother mine, she’s quite proficient at what she does.”

“Then where is my response if she finally replied?” His lips twist into a pout. “You get a bloody report and I get nothing?”

“I’m her boss in an incredibly delicate and dangerous undercover mission, she must report back to me. If she has two minutes to sneak away and write something, she should be writing a report back to me, not a love letter to you.”

Sherlock stops pacing and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.“You can’t tell me anything about this mission she is on?”

“You know I can’t,” Mycroft shakes his head in annoyance. “I warned you to not get involved with one of my agents. Of all the people to get this ridiculous sentiment for. They will be gone for long periods of time, disappear at a moments notice, put themselves into highly dangerous situations. Y/N in particular. She’s rather good at defending herself, but she is an infiltrator. If she’s found out, she will be killed. It’s a risk she takes willingly. I would not employ her if she wasn’t good at preventing that from happening, but you know as well as I that plans go awry.”

“The thing about sentiment Mycroft, is you don’t truly choose who brings it about in you. Whether you know it’s a good idea or not,” Sherlock snaps back angrily, his arms crossing.

“You managed to avoid it for decades prior. Now the list just continues to grow,” Mycroft grumbles and scribbles something on the paper in front of him.

“And I’m far happier for it,” he responds, staring at his brother.

“Are you?” Mycroft questions, setting his pen down and clasping his hands. “Because what I see is a man desperately writing a multitude of letters and hovering about in my office begging for a crumb of attention from someone who works a job that frequently takes them away.”

“She’s really not sent a single word for me?” Sherlock sighs dejectedly, placing his hands on the big desk separating them.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Mycroft opens his desk drawer and tosses a scrap of paper toward him. “It’s not much, I thought it better to not get your hopes up for more and get in a mood over the reality.”

Snatching the small folded piece of paper from the desk excitedly, Sherlock storms out of the office looking down happily at the familiar handwriting on the outside. “M give to S please.”

Plopping himself down into a chair near the office, he glances around to make sure he’s alone before unfolding it.

“I love you beyond measure. Be good for me yeah? - Your love.”

Sherlock’s heart beats wildly in his chest at the words, a pleasant warmth working its way over his body in a way only her words could. A full letter would have been better, but this was still brilliant. The confirmation he needed. She’s ok, and she’s thinking of him. Just as he’s thinking of her.

Rubbing his thumb longingly over the words on the paper, he lifts it to his lips briefly before stowing it away in the inner pocket of his coat to stay.

She loved him and she would be back. She had to come back. He couldn’t bear to think otherwise. He refused to think otherwise.

-

Pacing the entrance to the terminal, Sherlock’s mind races with thoughts of doubt once again. His fingers tighten around the flowers in his hand uncertainly.

Glancing up at the screen full of flight details, his eyes zero in on hers, the word ‘arrived’ doing little to settle his nerves. Perhaps making them worse.

How was this even supposed to go? They’d never been away from one another this long, and it wasn’t as if she had been on holiday. She’d been gone for months on an undercover mission for Mycroft, with little to no contact with anyone but his infuriating brother that refused to give him much information.

He was unsure if these kind of reunions were meant to be a big romantic moment in the most normal of circumstances. And they were hardly in a normal situation. Nor was he the typical doting partner.

He’d done some research the previous night, couples reuniting in airports. Crying, running, dramatic hugs. Nothing that seemed like something he would genuinely do. Maybe he should fake it?

No. He’d promised himself no faking with her. She inspired the real sentiment that clung to his heart with an iron grip. She’d already caused the chemical reaction in him, she deserved the real thing. What he actually felt, who he actually was.

But was who he was good enough?

The darkest thought that slithered in the back of his mind was that of if she still felt the same way. That if in their time apart she had realized she rather liked not being around him. He knew he could be difficult to deal with at times, and he knew he kept the flat far messier than she’d prefer.

What if she had enjoyed being away from him?

Or found she liked the fake marriage she and another agent were sent undercover in. Feigning a typical romantic relationship with someone that understands exactly what she’s going through. Exaggerated sweet gestures and words that he’d never seen the need for.

Clearing his throat roughly, he looks down at the flowers in his hands. John’s idea. Something about how it was the romantic and proper way to welcome back a partner. Though he wasn’t sure a gesture of plants wrapped in plastic would make up for a lack of prior romantic gestures.

He’d no clue if she even felt any of those things. But the six months apart with no contact beyond one scrap of paper hadn’t been kind to his mind. He had never even realized how ingrained into his daily life she had become, how much he relied on pulling her into his arms each night to sleep, and to open his eyes to her each morning.

The days had seemed to bleed together. He wrote plenty of letters, demanding Mycroft have them smuggled to her. All in a desperate hope she’d find time to write something back. Anything.  His brother’s infrequent and lackluster updates did little to quell the storm he’d been fighting back in his own mind. And while the two sentence response he had received three months before had calmed him for some time, it had been far too long since he heard anything.

The sound of people heading down the terminal toward him pulls him from his thoughts suddenly. His eyes snapping to each face, a flood of useless information cluttering his mind as he searches hopefully for her.

As each person passes, a sinking feeling begins in his gut. Another group of passengers not containing Y/N.

What if she knew he was picking her up and simply didn’t come back? Maybe her and that agent had formed something after all…?

His gaze goes to the shiny tile under his feet when the last of the people surrounding him had departed.

She wasn’t coming back.

Curling his free hand into a fist and taking a deep breath, he turns stiffly around to head back toward the entrance.

Not a minute later he picks up the sound of footsteps hurrying towards him from behind, “Sherlock!”

Spinning back around quickly, he freezes as he sees Y/N bounding toward him with a smile. Dropping the flowers from his hand, he quickens his pace toward her to meet her in the middle, her arms flinging around his neck and his own around her waist to pull her closer.

His heart beats wildly in his chest as she looks up at him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

His lips part quickly, letting her claim his mouth hotly. Her tongue seeks out his own as a strangled whimper escapes his throat, heat rushing to his cheeks at the sound.  

Her fingers tangle in his curls as he hums in approval, swaying the two of them slightly as they kiss.

As their mouths break apart for air, he slowly loosens his grip to let her slip back down to the tile.

“Never again,” she mumbles burying her face against his shirt.

“Never again?”

“No more long missions. I’ll still take short ones, but never again on being away from you so long,” she responds as her hands slip down to rub his back. “If you even knew how many times I nearly just walked away from it all to come home to you. I just can’t do this shit anymore.”

“You missed me?” he asks quietly into her hair.

“Of course I missed you, what a dumb question,” she teases as she looks up and lays her chin on his chest. “I missed you and our life together.”

“You didn’t take to your average married life in the suburbs then?”

“My ‘husband’ was a pretend accountant that I had no feelings for that snored like a freight train every night. We had a teenager not teenager that was actually an 18 year old agent pretending to be our 14 year old son. And the neighbors made me go to PTA meetings Sherlock,” she complains with a furrowed brow. “The house was boring and beige. We had ‘Live Laugh Love,’ hanging in the sitting room. Being undercover has never been so dreadfully dull. I was almost wishing to open the fridge and find body parts.”

“So now you appreciate my experiments?” He asks lowly leaning in toward her ear.

“I mean it still grosses me out to go make a sandwich and find a bag of thumbs next to the cheese. But far preferable to everything of the last six months. I just-”

“I love you,” he says abruptly cutting her off, his cheeks flushing as her eyes widen. He detangles himself from her quickly and swiftly turns around to retrieve the bouquet on the floor and holds it out to her. “For you. I… don’t say or show it as often as I should.”

Accepting the flowers from him, she cradles them to her chest and beams up at him, “I love you too, exactly as you are. Though I love the flowers and it doesn’t hurt to hear it. Take me home now?”

Slipping his hand into her free one, he gives her a nod and gentle smile, “Anywhere you want.”

“I’m surprised I was even allowed this,” she hums thoughtfully as they head toward the entrance.

“Hm?”

“I was certain there’d be an agent out here to lead me to a black car and back to Mycroft’s place or office. Had been dreading that I probably wouldn’t be able to see you until tomorrow.”

“That was the original plan,” Sherlock responds stiffly. “I may have convinced him to allow me to pick you up, though a car will be at Baker Street tomorrow at noon to pick you up for your debriefing. I thought you would rather go home tonight… and had hoped you would be happy to see me.”

“Understatement of the year,” she grins and leans her head against his shoulder as they walk.

“Did you get all my letters?” He asks after a moment.

“How many did you send? I got six.”

“Far more than six,” his cheeks redden at the admission.

“I wish I had gotten them,” she complains and tightens her grip on his hand. “And that I could have responded more. We were being watched pretty heavily by the neighborhood. Didn’t want them getting suspicious by sending too many letters out, chance that they may try to intercept one. And agents coming back to discreetly grab them was risky because it may look like I had some lover coming to the house. Had to look like we had some picture perfect life. Whole thing was maddening.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” he hums in agreement. “Going undercover is one thing, staying undercover for months… and like that. Never.”

“You couldn’t play devoted husband and father for a few months hm?” she teases as they stand at the street waiting for a taxi.

“Play it?” He looks at her thoughtfully. “No, not play it. I can pretend certain things for relatively short periods of time. But those two particular roles are saved for…” Clearing his throat Sherlock lifts his hand for a taxi and looks away.

“Saving them for what Sherlock?” Y/N asks curiously, her eyes scanning his face as he shoos her into the cab first. “Come on, please?”

Sliding into the seat next to her, he sighs before resting his chin on her shoulder in the relative darkness of the cab as it speeds away, “An actual future with you. If you’re amendable.”

Her body stiffens against him at the words before her hand slips back into his and she turns her head to press a kiss to his cheek, “Want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

“I spent a large amount of time daydreaming about what our version of that life would be,” she whispers in his ear, nuzzling against his cheek.

“I-I will take it you liked the thought?” he momentarily stutters, his breathing refusing to even out.

“Loved it.”

“You think a detective and a secret agent can create a normal life together?” He asks quietly, eyes flickering to hers.

“Normal? As if any life with you is normal, perish the thought,” she grins. “I want the extraordinary life we already have, just build on that. And with less month long stays away from one another.”

“And how do you plan to avoid these sort of missions in the future then?”

“Talk to Mycroft about trying to stay nearby. Or at least nothing longer than a few weeks away. And if that’s not possible, might be time to look for a new career. I doubt he’ll be happy about it, nor do I think he’ll particularly understand… but I have to do what I have to do.”

“You would just quit it all, for me?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” she confirms and runs her thumb over her knuckles. “For us yes. I started all this when it was just me. Always assumed I’d do it until I died in a mission, or got lucky enough that I just got too old to do it as extensively as I do now.”

“And you’d be satisfied without it in your life?”

“I think so yeah. Whatever job I might take up probably won’t be as thrilling, but like I said, a life with you is never boring. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty of excitement to balance it out.”

“You don’t have to get a job at all if you’d rather,” he responds with more affection than he realized. “You can just work with me.”

“Oh? You’re going to pay me to follow you around and fish your phone out of your pocket?” She teases.

“Payment in the form of room and board. Food. Practically anything you want. A ridiculous amount of sentiment on my part,” he admits with short laugh. “Though you know you’ve got all those things regardless.”  

“Hm, so either work or sit in the flat doing nothing, and get the same things?” She chuckles and presses several kisses to his jaw. “I’d follow you into Hell itself for free you know? You just might need me there, for something more than a personal assistant.”

“You say such things so easily,” he responds as one of his hands loosely grips her knee.    “You’re always very good at this.”

“Good at this?”

“Saying the right things to produce… affection in me. To make my chest tighten and my heart rate accelerate with words I’d never thought would ever effect me. Or ever be spoken to me in any manner,” he continues, clearing his throat and looking toward the window. .

“I just tell the truth Sherlock. I’ve spent years actively avoiding too much attachment. But I look at you, I just see something else. I feel a million things at once and my chest gets all warm and fuzzy. And I’m just happy. I’ve never been as happy as I am at your side. The last six months really have been hell, and not just because of the cliche decor.”

“It’s gone really well for me ignoring Mycroft,” he says after a moment, smiling as she laughs against him.

“Hmm, another benefit to leaving the agent life behind. I can ignore Mycroft,” she muses happily.

“Oh wait until you try, it’s very liberating,” he smirks and presses a kiss to her cheek. “His face the first time you tell him no, oh it needs to be Christmas. The only gift I need.”

“I’m sure he’ll be absolutely pleased to still have to see me aside from work. Puts up with me for over a decade as his employee, then I invade his personal life.”

“See, we have to stay together. Mildly irritate my brother forever.”

“I can think of a few more reasons other than being a thorn in Mycroft’s side,” she says squeezing his hand on her knee. “You’ve got quite a few perks to yourself Mr. Holmes.”

“Oh?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“Brilliant, beautiful, loyal, funny, caring, devoted, curious, passionate. When you love, you love hard. I feel exceedingly fortunate I’m one of the few people that gets to experience it. Oh, and you’re quite a good kisser too. That’s an awfully fun perk.”

“Is that so?” His hand slowly runs up her thigh. “I think you need more data to make that claim. Repeat the experiment as it were, many more times.”

“Only you can make that sound so sexy,” she mutters as she presses a kiss to a sensitive spot on his neck.

His breath catches in his throat and he swallows thickly, noticing with marked relief that they’re nearly home. “We’re nearly there.”

“Is that you asking for mercy?” She asks with her lips still loosely on his skin.

“Indeed,” he nods more sharply than intended, his heart rate nearly doubling as she laughs playfully against his ear.

“I’ll relent for now, it looks like we’re here anyways,” she comments as she glances out the window herself.

Pushing open the door, Sherlock slips out quickly and reaches back in for Y/N’s hand to help her out before gesturing toward the door.

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he promptly drops them into her hands then wraps his arms around her waist.

Once she has the door unlocked and shoves it open, his chin plops onto her shoulder. “Welcome home darling. Now get your bum up those stairs and into bed, I haven’t held you properly in ages.”

----

Sherlock Taglist: @stephenstrangeaddictions​  @strangeions  @asgardianprincess1050  @rbymoon  @elisa20beth  @black-and-white1  @gaitwae​ @azu21​ @mirikusashes​ @bubsonnobx​

If you want to be tagged in any future Sherlock stuff let me know or fill out the taglist form on my channel navigation/masterlist. 💙

[worriedvision]

Historically unfortunate in love - Alhaitham

Gender neutral reader, reader is a book. Angst. I know, it's an odd idea, but the idea is that there's this book known for having romance as it's genre, but the book is also known for causing dreams where the reader shows up. Alhaitham takes an interest in this, curious as to what you were. Chaos ensues. There is not a happy ending here, I'm afraid.

--

"Haven't you heard? That book is haunted!"

"My friend tried to read it, but they freaked out when a scary person showed up on their dreams."

"Hasn't that book been around for decades? More than that."

These rumours, and more, spread about you all the time. Your author had been plagued by an unhealthy attachment to you, to the point they found a way to speak to you in their dreams. As odd as it was, it quenched her loneliness.

But since she died, you were still there. Whenever someone picked you up, you'd appear in their dreams until someone else touched your cover. It was nice at first, meeting people, but you hated the fact they'd keep talking about the romance in your pages. People thought you, somehow, could make their hopes of requited love true. After a few decades, you could not bare it any longer.

So, you made yourself as terrifying as possible. People realised you had no patience left for their love problems, the envy over being used and not talked to like your original owner did being a likely culprit, and the rumour changed to you being so terrifying that you weren't worth reading.

Alhaitham heard from these rumours about you, and he felt like he had nothing better to do. He decides to look into you, taking in the contents of your pages, while also interviewing you.

The first night, he could tell you were trying to be scary. That you couldn't really do anything, positive or negative, towards him. You bulk yourself up, but you can't scare him off. He merely sits there, observing you, and you realise that he's different. He isn't there for a romantic reason, he's not there for some entertainment reason.

He asks you about your origins, your author, what you know about your contents. Over time, he grew more interested in you as a person. You grew to trust him and, you realise, you feel romantic feelings for him. Some pages he mentions to you, it feels like they're happening. Those tight feelings, those warm sensations, the stupid smile your face had.

You were scared of it. You knew he couldn't touch you physically, your form was not physical, and he was an attractive man. You knew that, one day, you would lose him to someone who could give him what you couldn't.

So, you hide from him. You expect him to move on, to see that you aren't showing yourself and his experiment would be over.

Nope, he seems to understand this follows the story you are in. You grow distant after showing symptoms of falling in love, and he would persist.

So, he tells you about himself. His grandmother, his job, anything he could he would do.

--

"I didn't take you to be a reader of romance." Kaveh chuckles, spying the book.

Alhaitham tuts, taking the book away before Kaveh can take you away. He walks away, Kaveh realising that whatever you were, Alhaitham grew to like you.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

--

"Please leave." You cry out, Alhaitham not able to find you. "This isn't a good idea, you know this."

"There is no evidence to-"

"No, you are a human being. I know you'll leave."

Those were the last words you said to him. He tried his hardest to call out to you, to tell you how close he felt to you, but nothing worked. Upon reading the rest of the book, his heart sinks as he reads the final chapter.

Your author ended the story with the relationship burning out, the love interest dying in a house fire and the twist being that you were a living possession of the man who loved you. The man comes to terms with the fact you are not real, and he falls in love with someone who ticked all of his boxes.

This must have been the hypothesis of you gifting your reader their desired outcome. People didn't seem to finish reading your story, and the next time he visits you, you know he's finished reading you.

--

"Burn me. End my suffering." You stare coldly, Alhaitham opening his mouth in horror.

He didn't want to lose you, he didn't give a damn if you were real or if you were simply a dream.

"If you cannot burn me, you have to find someone who can."

No, this isn't right! He didn't want to burn you, he hated the idea of you just, being gone. He didn't understand why you were created, but he understands why he likes dreaming so often.

He enjoys his time with you. He looks forward to sleeping, and not solely because he can escape the people that drain him socially. You don't hear any of it, it was as if your creator made this script for you when someone finally finished your story and stuck with you.

He wakes up crying that morning, Kaveh noting his change in demeanor. Alhaitham hands him the book, unable to carry out your only wish, and he tells Kaveh to sleep at that moment.

--

"Are you _? Alhaitham seems to like you very much." Kaveh explains, you decide to show your form and nod in reply. "...Do you really desire an end? Alhaitham cherishes you, which is something I didn't think possible for him."

"I envy him. I can't hold him, and he can find a person to hold." You explain. "It's too much for me. My creator made me in a moment of selfishness, and people keep using me until they get what they desire."

"Alhaitham is a different man." Kaveh explains. "He isn't one for socialising unless entirely necessary."

Unfortunately, that only makes you feel even more sure you wish to be burned. You realise from Kaveh's statement that Alhaitham wouldn't be able to stand you if you somehow became human. You hate this constant cycle with people where you wish to form a physical connection but cannot.

"...I'll fulfill your wish, in return for one thing." Kaveh starts. "I am allowed to give the ashes from your book to Alhaitham."

You suppose there wasn't going to be anyone else willing to risk breaking the law for your own wishes, you observed from being classed as a relic of sorts. You nod, Kaveh looking particularly sad when he realises, completely, that you were truly fed up with being used and thrown away.

"For what it's worth.... Alhaitham truly loves you."

--

When Kaveh burns the book, he calls Cyno to join him to explain the situation. It sounded rather bizarre, however Cyno was understanding enough to know that Kaveh wouldn't make this up, and he did note Alhaitham looks a lot happier than usual. He prepares the bonfire, along with a jar to place your charred pages into once it was completed.

To say Alhaitham was devastated, realising you were gone, was an understatement. He hated sleeping now, knowing for a fact you weren't there, and the charred remains in the jar were the proof you were gone. Your creator was cruel for creating you, Alhaitham couldn't help but recognise. Who makes a book sentient to the point they wish they were human? He didn't know the answer for that question to satisfy his desire for your rest, you must have been miserable up until you felt the flames against your paper, finally feeling the release from this prison you were born in.

Does he move on like the book stated? No. He carries your jar around wherever he can, creating a pouch big enough for you, and whenever someone tried to tease him for it or touch it, he would glare at them. Those stupid enough to try and steal the jar were met with a swift punch to the stomach, catching you before you could hit the ground.

Try as he might, he knew he would have a hold on his heart once filled with you.

[merylstreepsworld]

Secret Handshake

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Fem!reader

Summary: You and Miranda start to create a secret handshake... but you can't help but mess with her

Word Count: 532

In the elegant confines of Miranda Priestly's office, you decided to surprise her with a playful challenge – a complex secret handshake. As her girlfriend, you knew that Miranda's obsession with perfection would make it even more amusing.

"Miranda, darling," you began, standing before her desk with a mischievous grin, "I have a fun idea. Let's create a secret handshake only we can do."

Miranda raised an eyebrow but indulged your whims, nodding slightly. "Very well, let's proceed. I'm sure I can handle it."

You started with a simple handshake, then added a twist, and before long, you had crafted an intricate sequence of handshakes, fist bumps, and elbow taps. It was a delightful and amusing spectacle, but every time you attempted it, you subtly changed the pattern, blaming Miranda for getting it wrong.

"Miranda, dear, you almost had it," you teased, switching up the order once again. "Let's try it one more time."

Miranda, determined to master this challenge, meticulously followed your lead. Each time you changed the sequence, she kept her composure but couldn't help but furrow her brow in concentration. It was a rare sight to see the fashion icon so focused on something so trivial.

As the two of you continued to work on your secret handshake, Miranda found herself growing more determined to master it. However, her legendary impatience began to surface.

You playfully added a new twist to the sequence, and Miranda, following your lead, faltered for a moment. "Darling, must you keep changing it every time? How am I supposed to remember this ever-evolving dance of yours?"

With a grin, you replied, "Well, Miranda, it wouldn't be much of a secret handshake if it were easy, now would it?"

Miranda huffed, her usually composed demeanor showing a hint of frustration. "You have a point, but do try to be consistent."

You nodded, suppressing a giggle, but couldn't resist another alteration to the handshake. Miranda's patience was wearing thin, and her eyes narrowed in mock annoyance.

"Stop that," she scolded, her voice a mix of irritation and amusement. "I'll have you know that I can be quite persistent when I want to be."

You couldn't help but tease her further. "Oh, really? I'd love to see that persistence in action, Miranda."

After several rounds of handshakes, you decided it was time to reveal your little game. As Miranda reached out for another attempt, you suddenly burst into laughter, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"Miranda, you're just too perfect!" you exclaimed, wiping away tears of laughter. "I am sorry, I couldn't resist messing with you!"

Miranda couldn't help but smirk, her facade cracking just a bit. "You certainly are full of surprises, my dear."

With a playful glint in her eye, she decided to play along. "Very well, let's create our own signature handshake. I won't miss a beat this time."

You both started from scratch, crafting a new, simpler handshake that represented your unique bond. As you finished, Miranda executed it flawlessly, and you exchanged a triumphant high-five.

"There, now we have a handshake only we can do," you declared, feeling a warm sense of connection.

Miranda chuckled softly, her eyes softening as she gazed at you. "Indeed, my dear. A handshake that no one else could ever replicate."

From that day forward, your secret handshake became a cherished tradition, a symbol of your love and playful connection amidst the world of high fashion. It was a reminder that even in the most glamorous and demanding of worlds, Miranda Priestly and her girlfriend could find moments of light-hearted joy.

[drhenryblack]

Just a little idea

Ok guys, a little AU idea. I honestly love how most people portray Caine as a wacky and goofy guy who absolutely melts for his soppy wet cat, Pomni. And though that's still my favorite flavor of Showtime, I just had this idea of a more realistic version. Basically, many adventures later. Pomni confronts Caine about his adventures, and how they're mentally traumatizing and leave emotional scars on all of them, and they get talking on the concept of emotions. Caine explains how since he's an AI, he doesn't have any emotions himself and hence can't decipher the human mind and how they're feeling, the concept being entirely alien to him. He's been trying his best, but he just can't do it. Pomni somehow ends up as his teacher and will be the one guiding him to make his adventures less traumatizing... And maybe even find a way out... So now the two are bonding and Pomni discovers that Caine ain't a creep and is just a funny little guy trying his best. And she starts developing a soft spot for him...and...and...she's in love, isn't she? And Caine is trying to find out exactly what kind of feeling he gets when he's around her and why he feels so jittery around her. And Ragatha, well the rest of the gang is also there but mostly Ragatha, is watching from the corner knowing fully well that Pomni is falling for a confused and possibly dangerous AI and beating herself over it. But here's the twist, Caine can feel emotions. I know, I know, he's an AI, how can he do that? But just hear me out! In the episode when Pomni mentions the exit door, Caine replies rather... chaotically. He's tense, neurotic, almost as if he's afraid? afraid that she'll find out the truth (following the theory that the humans stuck in the game aren't actually humans and it's just a copy of their consciousness that's trapped in it). But, AIs? feeling afraid? That's something that caught my eye. And I know it sounds weird! But it's true! I've also noticed the little finger movements he does when he's nervous, which, as a doctor, I must say is pretty similar to pacifying activities that people do in real life (hand massages, fidgeting with something, or stroking one's neck). And if he didn't feel emotions, wouldn't he reply in a calm way to not get anyone suspicious, and stick with the optimistic and goofy side of himself? This has personally led me to believe that Caine has emotions, he just doesn't know that those feelings are emotions. So Caine has emotions... and... that's it! That's as far as I've gotten into this idea, and I'm really hoping someone would expand on it, and turn it into an AU. But I personally believe he might grow a really obsessive and possessive behavior towards her. He's never felt anything like this and grows obsessed with it because he feels so warm and happy whenever he's with her. Feel free to expand on the idea Showtime nation!

[annesoftheisland]

But grass was growing green in sheltered spots and Gilbert had found some pale, sweet arbutus in a hidden corner. He came up from the park, his hands full of it.

Anne was sitting on the big gray boulder in the orchard looking at the poem of a bare, birchen bough hanging against the pale red sunset with the very perfection of grace. She was building a castle in air—a wondrous mansion whose sunlit courts and stately halls were steeped in Araby’s perfume, and where she reigned queen and chatelaine. She frowned as she saw Gilbert coming through the orchard. Of late she had managed not to be left alone with Gilbert. But he had caught her fairly now; and even Rusty had deserted her.

Gilbert sat down beside her on the boulder and held out his Mayflowers.

“Don’t these remind you of home and our old schoolday picnics, Anne?”

Anne took them and buried her face in them.

“I’m in Mr. Silas Sloane’s barrens this very minute,” she said rapturously.

“I suppose you will be there in reality in a few days?”

“No, not for a fortnight. I’m going to visit with Phil in Bolingbroke before I go home. You’ll be in Avonlea before I will.”

“No, I shall not be in Avonlea at all this summer, Anne. I’ve been offered a job in the Daily News office and I’m going to take it.”

“Oh,” said Anne vaguely. She wondered what a whole Avonlea summer would be like without Gilbert. Somehow she did not like the prospect. “Well,” she concluded flatly, “it is a good thing for you, of course.”

“Yes, I’ve been hoping I would get it. It will help me out next year.”

“You mustn’t work too hard,” said Anne, without any very clear idea of what she was saying. She wished desperately that Phil would come out. “You’ve studied very constantly this winter. Isn’t this a delightful evening? Do you know, I found a cluster of white violets under that old twisted tree over there today? I felt as if I had discovered a gold mine.”

“You are always discovering gold mines,” said Gilbert—also absently.

“Let us go and see if we can find some more,” suggested Anne eagerly. “I’ll call Phil and—”

“Never mind Phil and the violets just now, Anne,” said Gilbert quietly, taking her hand in a clasp from which she could not free it. “There is something I want to say to you.”

“Oh, don’t say it,” cried Anne, pleadingly. “Don’t—please, Gilbert.”

“I must. Things can’t go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I—I can’t tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you’ll be my wife?”

“I—I can’t,” said Anne miserably. “Oh, Gilbert—you—you’ve spoiled everything.”

“Don’t you care for me at all?” Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up.

“Not—not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don’t love you, Gilbert.”

“But can’t you give me some hope that you will—yet?”

“No, I can’t,” exclaimed Anne desperately. “I never, never can love you—in that way—Gilbert. You must never speak of this to me again.”

There was another pause—so long and so dreadful that Anne was driven at last to look up. Gilbert’s face was white to the lips. And his eyes—but Anne shuddered and looked away. There was nothing romantic about this. Must proposals be either grotesque or—horrible? Could she ever forget Gilbert’s face?

“Is there anybody else?” he asked at last in a low voice.

“No—no,” said Anne eagerly. “I don’t care for any one like that—and I like you better than anybody else in the world, Gilbert. And we must—we must go on being friends, Gilbert.”

Gilbert gave a bitter little laugh.

“Friends! Your friendship can’t satisfy me, Anne. I want your love—and you tell me I can never have that.”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me, Gilbert,” was all Anne could say. Where, oh, where were all the gracious and graceful speeches wherewith, in imagination, she had been wont to dismiss rejected suitors?

Gilbert released her hand gently.

“There isn’t anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I’ve deceived myself, that’s all. Goodbye, Anne.”

Anne got herself to her room, sat down on her window seat behind the pines, and cried bitterly. She felt as if something incalculably precious had gone out of her life. It was Gilbert’s friendship, of course. Oh, why must she lose it after this fashion?

“What is the matter, honey?” asked Phil, coming in through the moonlit gloom.

Anne did not answer. At that moment she wished Phil were a thousand miles away.

“I suppose you’ve gone and refused Gilbert Blythe. You are an idiot, Anne Shirley!”

“Do you call it idiotic to refuse to marry a man I don’t love?” said Anne coldly, goaded to reply.

“You don’t know love when you see it. You’ve tricked something out with your imagination that you think love, and you expect the real thing to look like that. There, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever said in my life. I wonder how I managed it?”

“Phil,” pleaded Anne, “please go away and leave me alone for a little while. My world has tumbled into pieces. I want to reconstruct it.”

“Without any Gilbert in it?” said Phil, going.

A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place? Well, it was all Gilbert’s fault. He had spoiled their beautiful comradeship. She must just learn to live without it.

Anne of the Island - Gilbert Speaks, Chapter 20

[ashisgreedy]

Ruler of Hell - Garreth Weasley

Obsessed | Possessive | Adoring | Generous

He becomes obsessed with a human woman, falls in love with her, and can't stand the idea of her dying. So he drags her to hell, and gives her the world. He lavishes her with his riches and his mansions. He does everything in his power to get her to fall in love with him all while she's trying to convince him to let her go back to the land of the living and live out her life in the natural way.

He's almost convinced, but he's worried that her karma may not send her to hell when she dies. He can't stand the idea of being separated from her for all eternity.

He agrees, under one condition. They are both must be reincarnated, born anew, and twist their life plans to meet one another at a pinnacle point in time. Their meeting is solidified by Fate and woven into their life plans. The only catch when being reincarnated, you must start your life as a human with no memory of your past lives.

She agrees, and she restarts her human existence while Garreth begins for the first time. Soon after she's born tragedy strikes something outside of her life plan. Both her parents passed away.

Gareth is born and chooses to be part of a large family since being the ruler of hell was extremely lonely. He becomes obsessed like his hellish counterpart and hyper focuses on different hobbies growing up. As he gets older, he finds Potions to be his favorite.

Something is wrong with her incarnation. It wasn't agreed upon with the light side of the universe and her existence is cursed.

But because of the twist of fate woven in both of their lives, fate awoke something inside of her that would have never naturally occurred. She could wield and see ancient Magic.

Because of her new found magical abilities at the late age of 16, she's taken to Hogwarts where Garreth Weasley is already a student.

He's mischievous and adoring over her. They both feel it when they first meet some sort of snap into place. After the events of her first year, she absorbs the repositories of Magic and becomes much stronger than any one in the magical world.

Fate twists yet again bringing the two of them together and awakens more powers inside of Garreth. He has access to elemental powers more so than others. He's able to produce and control fire, pyrokinesis.

Together the two of them rule The wizarding world in their own way, twisting the rules and bending them until they feel they are fair for everyone. The choices they make aren't always what's right, but it's what's right in their minds.

They marry eventually, and live their lives to the fullest. In their old age, they find a secluded place to live out their days in peace.

At random times of their life, they both had glimpses of their past agreement. The closer they got to death's door the more they remembered their agreement to each other.

In their human forms, she finally agreed to stay with him in hell, their karma surely sending them there, and he is elated.

In death, he regains his mantle as ruler and she takes his side as ruler as well, so they can do it together.