#inside your brain there are two wolves

[metalhoops]

Steve never liked the cities. 

They were always too crowded, too noisy. He liked Hawkins. He liked a quiet life in the suburbs. It was part of the reason he’d never gone to college, that and having to worry about his adopted band of misfit kids and the hell dimension that opened every year. Yet, somehow he found himself on a weekend trip to Chicago.

It was all Eddie’s fault. He had to pick some things up from a music store in town for the band, he’d mention strings or amps. Steve only half understood. It was an excuse for Eddie to take his van to Chicago. Steve had been surprised to find himself invited.

“You never leave town since Vecna went dark, dude. How are you going to travel around with six kids and a Winnebago if you never leave Hawkins?” Eddie asked, somehow managing to convince Steve to join him. 

They took turns driving Eddie’s van.  Eddie’s choice of music was questionable, but his version of road trip games was even more worrisome. They’d been travelling behind an old truck for the better part of an hour when Eddie kicked his feet on the dash and questioned,

“What do you think would be the worst way to die right now? Because I’ve spent the past half hour watching that guy’s toolbox rattle around and I’m convinced a nail gun to the head would be a killer way to go.” 

Steve should’ve known better, but he’d give anything for a distraction from the long stretch of road. 

“Probably getting set on fire at a pump while you insist you need a smoke the second we pulled over at the last gas station,” Steve noted, switching on his indicator and passing the vehicle, using all the horsepower the poor-beat up van had. 

“And here I was thinking I had a twisted imagination,” Eddie spoke, before listing off a series  of more gruesome scenarios. 

By the time the two reached their motel, Steve felt strangely lighter. Whether it was the distance from Hawkins and the trouble it had caused him or because he and Eddie had spent an hour listing out worst-case scenarios until they felt comical and absurd instead of real and imminent threats, he didn’t know. Being trapped in a town with a rip in the fabric of space and time had a way of making you always feel on your guard. That night the two slept quickly and soundlessly. 

It was when they walked through town Steve remembered why he hated cities. He was left shuffling through unfamiliar streets, elbow to elbow with strangers, trying desperately to keep up with Eddie as the man weaved and ebbed with the crowd as Steve used to slice through water. Eddie was one with the city. Steve was apart from it.

Without thinking, Steve reached out, grabbing onto the hem of Eddie’s jacket, letting himself be guided. Eddie showed him where to step, how to move. He kept his head down and followed Eddie’s lead to the music store. Much to his surprise, when they were all done, and once more ready to head back into the fray of the foot traffic, Eddie offered the crook of his elbow for Steve to hold onto. 

“Hey, it’s easier than you almost tugging a hole in a perfectly good jacket. You don’t have a good track record, Harrington,” Eddie teased. He had a point. 

He hadn’t meant to make a habit of it. Yet the small action of latching onto Eddie to keep him at arm’s length followed the two back to Hawkins. 

The thing about hanging out with Eddie was that the man was surprisingly hard to keep up with. He was always rushing places at the drop of a hat, jerked one way or the other by whatever flight of fancy caught his attention. 

He’d be beside Steve at the Family Video store one minute, then darting to the horror section driven there by some tangential conversation, which then of course, would lead him to remember some old sci-fi film and send him running to the sci-fi section, only to find it lacking. That would lead him to Robin and their extensive movie catalogue on the computer, all the while, he’d still be talking to Steve. He found it easier to keep up with Eddie if he had a hold of him. 

He’d find his fingers tucked into the crook of Eddie’s elbow, hooked in the chain of his jeans or clinging to the cuff or hem of his shirt and trailing in the wake of him. 

Contrary to popular belief, Steve wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to social situations. He knew being extra touchy with Eddie was something he could only do in certain situations. He was hyper-aware of it when he’d made the mistake of hooking his thumb into the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans in the arcade. The two had driven the kids there and were wasting time bouncing between watching the kids and playing pinball. 

A group of teenagers had been gawking at the two already, likely trying to work out what twist of fate had landed the former king of Hawkins High and current school Freak together. With the action, the mumbled whispers turned into slack jaws and less favourable words muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear. 

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew what it looked like. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be like that, not that he’d voiced any of it. Not yet. He needed to do it in a town where people didn’t know his name, so people wouldn’t talk if he was reading Eddie all wrong. He didn’t think he was, he was good with reading people. 

In a crowd, holding onto Eddie was okay.  On their increasingly frequent trips to the city, Indianapolis, Chicago, and Fort Wayne. When no one else could see, that was okay. In small-town Hawkins, in broad daylight, it wasn’t. 

Steve suddenly understood the appeal of the city.  

[mothwingwritings]

Me: I love getting comments on my stuff! There is nothing like the rush of validation and love you feel when someone leaves a nice comment on something you created. Both lengthy essays and little notes provide heaps of serotonin! <3

Also Me: I can't comment on this person's work. Anything I can or will say will pale in comparison to how much I love what they created. I will come off as dumb and annoying and I have no right clogging up this person's brilliance with my nonsense.

[diabollicallyangelic]

I want to set down my sword

And lay down in the garden of peace

I want to don a crown of flowers

I want to be bathed in sunshine, I want to be free

--

I want to yell and scream for my honor

I want to tear down cities of hate

And conquer those who have wronged me

There is a fire in my eyes

And I do not plan on ignoring it

[m1d-45]

this has been haunting me and i need to get these thoughts out of my brain so i’m dumping them here like an exorcism! anyways shining nikki and sagau. there is something to be done there. (shining nikki gets to be pink bc pink is nikki’s color and i love her.)

ALSO idk if anyone cares but this will have spoilers for shining nikki so proceed with caution ig!!

anyways so basically quick shining nikki summary: you and nikki, the main character and love of my life, are sent to a world called miraland to prevent its apocalypse by using styling power aka fashion magic! in part two (this is the spoiler part) the player gets revealed as the deity of styling which essentially also makes them the god of miraland! it is sagau but real basically. almost there’s no cult though. well there is a cult but that has nothing to do with the player it’s a whole other thing.

and now here is my thought: so like, reader is the deity of styling, they didn’t create miraland, and they’re not the oldest god either, just one of the strongest thanks to their connection to styling power. and with how strong styling power is, maybe reader goes off and decides to try creating their own world? a world that uses elemental power instead of styling, just as an experiment to see what the limit of their styling power is. the answer? strong enough to create teyvat, apparently!

so reader goes between teyvat and miraland through the ocean of memories (it’s. an ocean of memories. also Shit happens there sometimes) until mumble mumble some events leave them stranded on earth with no memories oh no!!! normal shit happens and then the plot of shining nikki where you like merge consciousness with nikki and essentially experience the world thru her etc. etc. we go through the first part of the story normal until we hit part 2 and get to the whole “deity of styling” revelation. i could be more specific and explain the details but god there’s so many details. i will save that for later if there’s ever a later.

now, reader is only aware that they’re the deity of styling, they still haven’t regained their memories, meaning that they don’t remember making teyvat. BUT. there is a chapter that takes place in an underground shrine that all of the characters fall into….. said shrine is connected to the ocean of memories, which can be used to travel through worlds as we’ve established, and muscle memory is a pretty strong thing… it would be very easy for reader to panic at the sight of their friends falling and call upon the ocean of memories to bring them somewhere safe.. they end up in teyvat. yeag. it makes perfect sense in my head but i am having trouble wording it so you just have to trust me on this one.

so reader’s in teyvat with nikki (main character of shining nikki, love of my life and best girl Ever) and momo (he’s a cat in denial about being a cat and also he gets to be orange bc he’s yellow but there’s no yellow text option sad) with no memories of what this place is or why they were able to bring everyone there! it could be imposter au or not honestly the stakes are already pretty high with the whole “oh no miraland is going to be destroyed AGAIN if we don’t get back!!!”

anyways. those are my thoughts. they have now been exorcised out of my brain. do with that as you will i guess??? - teddy anon

warning i don’t know jack shit about shining nikki other than this ask and that it’s a dress up game. with this in mind:

what.

there’s. there’s so much to unpack here it’s. unreal.

how do you save a nation with the power of good taste? what cult? why doesn’t it involve the player? what shit happens at the oCEAN OF MEMORIES??? HELLO? W- why and how does such a thing operate i’m so- is it like just?? a buffet??? you go “oh i want a memory of brutal slaughter today :)” an-??? is it like an exchange system??? what’s the worldbuilding of shining nikki i both need to know and loathe to find out

“reader is only aware they’re the deity of styling, they still haven’t regained their memories” so either. either they just didn’t go to the literal OCEAN of memories (keep in mind idk any of the lore btw) or they? just? accepted that they’re a god w/o any memory of this??? shit ok—

“which can be used to travel between worlds as we’ve established” im so- the memory ocean is an interdimensional portal now? i- fuck it man we ball-

“he’s a cat in denial about being a cat” what the fuck kind of dress up games are they selling to kids where a cat has a crisis over his species despite every sign pointing to him being a fuckin cat i’m?-

and why?? is miraland going to be destroyed again????? im-? i’m so?-??

brother i am doing something with this information but only god knows what

.

[elijah-would]

dormant stan energy thrashing at the rails of adult thinking

[mycenaae]

brain so bad right now my god

[ghostboneswrites2]

hiii! I just wanted to say I absolutely love your fics, you write Daryl so accurate and well 😊 beautiful reads all throughout your page!!

I was wondering if you could write something where daryl comes to like the reader eventually (fem!reader), and she’s shy, keeps her distance, and only is spoke when spoken to, a little like Daryl himself! he then goes to her home to ask her about what stock is needed for foods or something idk haha (Alexandria era) and sees her masturbating through the window, calling out his name, obviously he had no idea she even liked him as she keeps herself to herself. so he joins her, and guides her through it 😉

I hope this is okay to work with if you wanted to use it! Have a great day 🤎🙏🏽

A spider fell on me while I was writing this :') and thank you so much for your compliments they mean the world!!!

Note: OOOOOO SPICYYYYYY 

Don't Stutter

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, graphic depictions of masturbation and smut, fingering

No summary needed, request says it all :)

**NSFW GIF BELOW CUT**

        He watched from a distance as you strolled through the streets of the peaceful community. Not a single incident in months, how about that? It was nice to relax for a while.

        Deanna had put a halt on recruiting for a while, after the attack by the Wolves, so Daryl had kind of been twiddling his thumbs, begging for an excuse to leave beyond the walls. He felt so closed up.

        He had too much time on his hands, too much room in his brain for thoughts and feelings. He didn't like it. Ever since he stopped going out, he crossed your path often. You were quiet, shy even. You rarely spoke up unless spoken to. You didn't make eye contact often, if at all. But most of all, you were beautiful. From your head to your toes. He'd often find himself admiring your (hair length) (hair color) hair. It framed your face perfectly. When the sun would shine just right, your (skin tone) skin would glow in ways he hadn't noticed before.

        Your body was something else entirely. The shape of you drove him nuts. The way your ass swayed when you walked. You didn't even have to try, you were effortlessly seductive.

        He gulped as you walked up your steps and went inside. He wondered how hard it would be to initiate a conversation, to get to know you. He shook his head. Surely that was a foolish idea. As a whole, he had bigger things he needed to be worried about. So, surely asking you about something important would be harmless, right?

        You worked at the pantry with Olivia, who had mentioned to him recently that they'd need to stock up soon. He decided to ask you to make him a list. Then, he'd get to talk to you, and he'd have an excuse to go on a run. Two birds, one stone, right? Right. He sucked in a breath of confidence and strode to your door. He went to knock but his fist stopped just centimeters from the door.

        "Oh.." He heard you whine. Were you crying? He tried to peek through the tall slender windows on either side of your door. The glass was lightly frosted, so the image was blurry, but he could make out a silhouette on the couch.

        "Daryl.." You moaned out louder. His heart stopped. His neck and ears heated ashe gulped. Were you...?

----

        You stared at the sidewalk as you walked home from work. You couldn't get the image out of your mind. Daryl was there earlier, rearranging shelves for you and Olivia. In his tight black button up shirt, his muscles bulged against the fabric, aching to bust out. Or, maybe you were just aching to bust them out. Either way, your lustful mind couldn't get enough. The visual was painted vividly in your mind's eye, and you'd be storing it permanently in your vault of lewd thoughts about the quiet archer.

        The entire rest of your shift was spent silently fantasizing about all the ways you'd let him use and abuse you, if only he wanted anything to do with you. You'd never even spoken to him, beyond a quiet and polite thank you or a curt nod in passing. By the time you made it to your door, you were throbbing between your legs. You couldn't hold it back. You didn't even care to scurry up the stairs and hide away in your bed. No, you simply threw your pants to the ground and sprawled out on the couch, slipping your fingers right inside your panties.

        You started with a gentle trace up and down your slit with a single finger. You stared up at the ceiling, using your imaginary paintbrush to paint a picture on the white canvas. Images of Daryl, his arms, his hands, the way he walked, each drag of a cigarette.

        You got worked up pretty fast. You got tired of teasing yourself. Wasn't lusting over an unattainable man torture enough?

        You slipped a finger inside yourself and sucked in a sharp breath, using your wetness to rub circles over your clit. "Oh..." You whined, closing your eyes, picturing his fingers in place of your own. You sped up the pace a little, rocking your hips as the tension began to build. You pictured the way he'd look down at you if he were there instead of your fingers. How he'd hold you still so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp, how he'd make you cum until you begged him to stop, and he'd probably keep going.

        "Daryl.." You moaned out, feeling a knot build in your abdomen. You were getting so close.

----

        He listened closely. You were moaning, that was for sure, but all he could see through the foggy windows was a blob on the couch that appeared to be moving.

        Fuck it, he thought. The tension was killing him. If you were moaning his name in there, there was no reason for him to hold back and be polite. He only hoped he could catch you in the act.

        He carefully grabbed the doorknob, hoping you wouldn't hear him. He twisted softly, and when he realized it wasn't locked, he pushed the door open.

        You jumped up and pulled your hand out of your panties, startled and wide-eyed as you stared at him. Shame washed over you as he gazed at you, pushing the door shut behind him.        

        "Daryl.." You breathed quietly. Your heart was beating so fast your chest could explode. He made slow steps over to you. Each thump of his boots on your floor made you flinch. "W-What are you doing..?"

        He glanced down at your wet panties and back up to you as he approached, towering over where you sat on the couch.

        "Could be askin' you the same." He rasped. You gulped.

        "I was just--"

        "You were sayin' my name." He cut you off. Your eyes grew wide. So, he definitely heard you.

        "No I wasn't." You lied.

        "Mm." He hummed. "Sure sounded like it."

        "Well even if I was you shouldn't be eavesdropping at my front--"

        "Shh." He hushed, tracing a calloused finger over your lips and down the front of your throat, hooking it on the collar of your shirt. His gaze was predatory, scanning down your body with a sense of starvation that made you tremble.

        He dragged another finger up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He admired the goosebumps that raised on your soft skin in the wake of his touch. His eyes met yours.

        "Tell me to stop and I will." He whispered. Your eyes widened as he leaned in and fluttered shut as his lips brushed against yours. You gasped into the kiss as he snapped with elastic of your underwear against your skin. He pulled back and peered down between your legs. You hadn't told him to stop, but he still hoped his next move would be okay. "Lemme see."

        "W-What?" 

        "Lemme see." He repeated, tugging at the hem of your panties. You were too nerve stricken to act, so you just nodded.

        Slowly, he dragged your panties down your thighs and held them up with a nearly invisible smirk. You glanced at the wet spot and blushed shamefully. "All for me?" He teased.

        He spread your legs wide.

        "Show me." He instructed. Your eyebrows met in confusion. "Show me how ya play with yourself." He clarified.

        "I-- I don't.."

        "Don't get nervous on me now. Sounded like ya had it under control just a minute ago." 

        With a shaky hand, you reached between your legs and aimlessly traced a circle over your clit with a single finger, never looking away from his face. He watched you for a minute and shook his head. 

        "Stop." He ordered. You did. You gasped as he traced his own finger right down your slit one time. "Like this..." He took your finger back to your clit and guided it, gentle laps around your clit causing your hips to jerk. "Now, do it just like that."

        You continued as he took his hand away, holding back the noises that threatened to escape. You kept asking yourself what you were doing, if this was even real. 

        He admired the show for some time, but it became quickly apparent you'd never make yourself cum with him watching like that. You were too nervous and clumsy. You couldn't keep a rhythm and you faltered every time you started to build yourself up to a climax. He gently pulled your hand to the side again.

        "Need some help?" He offered. You didn't respond. "Need an answer, darlin'."

        You hesitantly nodded.

        "Mm. Gon' need more than that." He taunted cockily. You nodded quicker this time, eagerness in your eyes. He smirked. "That's more like it.." He cooed, tracing his fingers up and down your clit gently. You let out a tiny whine. 

        Between him cutting you off right before you came earlier, and all those times you almost came trying to masturbate in front of him, you were so sensitive, and he could tell. Your clit was swollen and red and every little touch made you jolt and writhe.

        "Don't hold out on me. Let me know ya like it." He said as he slipped a finger inside you. You gasped and moaned as he massaged you, slipping a second finger in when he found your sweet spot. You bit down on your bottom lip and rolled your hips. Your moans grew louder and more confident as pleasure crept over you. That bashful, reserved girl from the pantry was quickly melting away, leaving you in a raw, lustful, dirty state. 

        Your eyes closed as your head fell back on the couch. His thumb pressed down on your clit as his fingers worked carefully inside. You moaned again as his rough thumb traced skillful circles over the sensitive area.

        "Say my name." He ordered.

        "Daryl.." You moaned shamelessly. He smirked.

        "Again."

        "Daryl." You whined. He was getting you close.       

        "Look at me." He demanded.

        You opened your eyes and watched him. Your eyelids were lazy and your eyes were glazed and sex drunk.

        "Say it."

        "Daryl." You squeaked. You were so close. That knot in your stomach was back, tied so tight that the rope was begging to snap.

        "What's my name?"

        "Daryl." You breathed.

        "C'mon, darlin.' Ya wanna cum or not?"

        "Daryl... Daryl.."

        "That's it." He slowed his pace to a stop, leaving you right at the edge. 

        "Daryl!" You whined and pouted. 

        He ignored your plea and pulled your shirt over your head before he tugged your bra down to expose your breasts. Your nipples were hard and bumps littered your skin as the cold air conditioning hit them. He pinched one hard, eliciting a small cry. He played with them a little before he slipped his fingers back inside you and worked his thumb over your clit again. You shuttered and exhaled a shaky moan. That was like, the fourth or fifth time your orgasm was cut off right before it started. It was torture. Painful, blissful, pleasurable torture. 

        You flinched and squirmed against his fingers, walls clenching and pulsating around his fingers, making it a little harder for him to work them. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

        "Look at me." He demanded. You obeyed. Your eyes welled up with tears as he built you back up. 

        "Please..."You begged.

        "Please, what?"

        "Please, Daryl."

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "Please, Daryl. I wanna cum."

        Triumph washed over him as you begged. 

        "I'm so close." You whispered. 

        "Then say it."

        "Daryl." You cried.

        "Again." 

        "D-Daryl.."

        "Don't stutter."

        "Daryl!" You moaned loud. A wave washed over you as you finally reached the climax. Your body shuddered, legs shaking as you moaned and writhed. He kept going until you rode the entirety of your high, only stopping when he was sure you couldn't take anymore.

        He looked down at the wet stain between your legs where the couch cushion soaked up all your cum, save for the mess all over his fingers. You shook and whined as he pulled his fingers out, watching with your mouth hung open as he sucked them clean and licked his lips.

        "Next time, just ask." He whispered as he kissed your forehead and left your house.

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[thegnomelord]

speaking of unorthodox mating: scorpionflies! my favourite thanks to entomology and them being very useful 🦂 mainly because they mate on top of fresh corpses. wonder what ghost of any of 141 you choose from would react to such a colorful mate

I doubt any of them would be all that happy fucking on top of a dead dude, Ghost especially seeing he got stuck in a coffin with one before becoming a wraith, but you coming back to them, covered in dirt and so much enemy blood you look like a butcher? Oh yeah, instant boner.

CW:NSFW, reader is some kind of insect monster idk this is quick and rough

GHOST - The second he registers the blood on you, and the fact you shed blood to protect him, tickles something in his brain. It's the knowledge that despite him being able to protect himself, he has someone to look out for him. . . . it has something needy and hungry stirring inside him.

Before you know it he's pulling you to a secluded nook, claws made of solid shadow tearing your belt open so he can swallow your cock down, pearly tears smudging the dark face paint around his eyes as your cock pushes past his gag reflex, smiling around your length when you answer in a chitter of your mandibles, your claws gripping his head as you fuck his mouth.

SOAP - Oh, he's not even waiting to get somewhere private. Everything with wolves is a social affair so the second the enemy's dead and the bullets have stopped raining down on you two, he's right next to you, full body rubbing against you like a bear scratching against a tree. It makes his fur and your clothes matted with blood and werewolf hair, whining and growling for your attention as he scents you and grows progressively more aroused by the second because holy shit, you smell like death and war and such a potent mate.

It takes you serious effort to pull him somewhere more private before Price yells at you two, and before you can even open your pants Soap's already on the floor, head down and ass up, tail raised even higher and still wagging as slick leaks from his hole. He howls like a bitch when you push into him, going completely slack as soon as your sharp mandibles clamp down on his scruff — not enough to draw blood, but strong enough to hold him down as you plow into him.

GAZ - He's a lot more sneaky about his attraction, acting like a doting mate when you two sit in the plane back to base, wiping away the blood that had congealed on your wings and elytra, chirping so sweetly to every little chitter and click you make, fingers reverently tracing your bloodied mandibles to the point the other's are complaining about you two being an old married couple.

His moans are equally as sweet as he begs to feel those sharp mandibles around his throat as you fuck him into the mattress, his wings pinned down beneath him and fully trapped like he's a piece of meat for you to consume. It's the danger of what your dangerous mandibles can do added to the knowledge you'd never hurt him that has him cumming in record timing, chirps broken up by hiccups as you just continue to fuck him.

PRICE - Oh, he holds out the longest, face and tone of voice betraying nothing as he tells you to get cleaned up, while inside he's purring like a tractor. He knows he shouldn't feel like this, that it's more than wrong fraternizing with you when he's your captain, but the way you'd looked covered in blood does something to him.

His claws rake down your front as he rides you slow and deep, slitted pupils taking in every little twitch of your wings and click of the mandibles, your desperate moans stroking his draconic pride as you beg to let you cum. And Price just tuts, "Come on, wouldn't want to disappoint me now?" He says, voice like a honeyed sticky trap, and you can do nothing but nod your head and try to hold on while Price tests your sanity by riding you into the early hours of the morning.

[r-rizzo]

dad jon snow headcanon with a targaryen!reader? i love that we have a new got writer and hotd! ♡

father's love. | jon snow

❝ pairing: jon snow x targaryen!reader.

❝ summary: what would jon snow be like having children with you, his beautiful dragon wife.

❝ warning: mentions of sex and innuendo, worried and scared jon.

❝ note: i really love the orders with targaryen!reader, thank you very much for leaving your request, i hope you leave one again and you like this. first post! ♡

★, when you tell jon that you're pregnant.

at first you had your doubts, you didn't know if it was just a delay or you were with a child.

but when you decided to approach your dragon and this approached, sniffed and caressed your belly, everything became clear to you.

you were with a child.

you had talked to him before about the children, his children. jon was insecure, he didn't want them to do to his child the same thing they did to him.

but you always assured him that his children would also be targaryens, they carried the blood of the dragon and the wolves, son of the king of the north.

jon smiled and took you by the waist, kissing you and affirming that having three children with you would be a blessing from the gods.

so at night, when you were already taking off your clothes to sleep, you feel familiar hands undoing the strings of your dress while leaving kisses on your neck, you know that it is now when you should tell him.

"jon" you called him, and you felt how his inner wolf wanted to come out. you only called him that in two situations, when you were angry or when you wanted to have sex.

"yes, my beautiful wife?" he asked with his thickest voice, knowing what he provoked in you, you laughed at how his breath crashed into your neck and his cold hands went into your bare back.

"we can't do this right now, my love" you tell him as you turn around and place your hands on his neck, massaging it. a small smile appears on your lips when you see his confused face.

"i did something wrong?" he asked and you laugh, shaking your head and watching your husband's eyes widen at his smile, admiring your beautiful purple eyes. "nothing wrong, sweet husband. it's just not appropriate when i'm with a baby" you finally said.

you watch as he opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately, the information reaching his brain slowly. his hands become lighter on your waist and his eyes become even smaller and watery.

"are you sure?" he asks with a voice that shakes, but his hands travel smoothly to your still flat stomach. "i didn't believe it until rhaegon proved it to me, i trust my dragon's judgment" you answered him and smiled, jon wasted no time in gently cupping your face and kissing you, his hands now caressing your stomach.

"i'm the happiest man in westeros, we're going to have a little pup" he says and smiles at you, showing you his beautiful silver pearls. "he'll be a dragon" you tell him, but jon shakes his head, taking now by the waist and sitting on the bed.

he crouches before you and brings his face close to your stomach, kissing him "you're a wolf, aren't you? you make me the happiest man in the world, my little pup" you smile caressing his curls, letting him call your baby a puppy.

★, when your puppy is growing up.

jon loves to see how his puppy grows inside you every day and considers that seeing you in this condition is his greatest adoration.

shamelessly caress your belly or look at it affectionately when he doesn't have much time for you and his son.

but he's always watching you, he knows you're a fighter, but you carry his son inside, and now you're more vulnerable. he would kill whoever touched a single hair on you.

when he has all his time or puts his duties aside to pamper his wife and son, he can't stop adore you.

"you are beautiful" "our wolf grows healthy and strong thanks to you" "my beautiful wife" "i hope he has your dragon eyes" things like that are whispered in your ear while he caresses your belly and kisses your neck.

jon denies it sometimes, but he would love it if his son had your eyes and his dark hair.

but sometimes it scares him too, the thought of his son being called a bastard makes his blood boil. he can take it, but when it comes to his son, never.

he already has people under his eye who dared to call his son a bastard.

he also thinks about the names, he knows that he wants to name it ned or robb, you suggest combining it with a valyrian name. he likes them but ned and robb are always his first choices.

if it's a girl, he would like you to choose the name, he loves valyrian female names.

you have always loved your mother's name, rhaella, and he would like his daughter to be named after the woman who gave him the love of his life.

he is not very interested if it is a girl or a boy, it is his and he will love it, with his being.

jon tries to always be easy on you when he's stressed, he never blows up on you. he already knows how your emotions are and knows that making you cry is his worst sin.

so, when some assembly goes wrong and some lord insults him for not responding to his request, he just enters his chambers and sits behind you, feeling how his wolf kicks in response to his touch and smiling on your neck. he loves that feeling too much.

it also comforts you when something stresses you out or makes you cry.

like your impossibility of being able to give a dragon egg to your son.

you've always dreamed of being able to see your child grow up with a dragon, but thanks to the disappearance of dragons and the fact that both your dragon and your younger sister's dragon, daenerys, are male, it prevents you from fulfilling that wish.

what makes you cry frequently.

and jon is there to comfort you.

"then he will have a direwolf, my love. don't worry, i'm sure that rhaegon will let our son ride him one day" he says and makes you feel good.

when he sees you standing, looking out the window, he always stands behind you and puts his hands under your belly, lifting it up to give you a rest. you love when he does that, it makes you overflow with love for him.

"i love when you let my poor back rest" you say as you sigh and rest your head on your shoulder, jon chuckles and lets your huge belly droop again. "jon!" you moan angrily and he lifts your belly again.

he only plays, but loves to give you breaks and massages, especially on your feet.

he is always protecting you, especially when it is time to sleep.

he has nightmares about how while he sleeps next to you, someone walks into the room and hurts you. you and his little wolf.

he couldn't take the blame.

that is why, when you sleep, he is always the one closest to the door. his chest against yours while one of your legs is on his hip, or your back against his chest while his hands cup your tummy.

he would rather something happen to him than to you, his loving wife and mother of his child.

★, when the time of birth comes.

the last time you approached the maester, he told you that the arrival of the heir to the north would come soon.

you and jon were looking forward to your son. the heir to the north and the iron throne.

jon was sitting in the weirwood tree one morning, thinking more deeply about the birth.

and if you died? or did they make him choose between you and his son?

he couldn't.

he couldn't allow someone to mercilessly cut you open and murder you. not in front of him.

so he asked, begged to the gods for your life and for his son.

"please give my son an easy birth, no pain for my wife, don't take her away, always leave her with me. i ask you to take care of my beautiful wife and my son. i lost her once and i don't plan to lose her again."

and when he finished asking for you and his son, a wind raised his curls, relaxing him immediately.

he knew that the gods had heard him.

his peace was interrupted by your servant, who ran towards him with sweat on her forehead and blood on her dress and hands.

"the queen is giving birth" he said in a rush, jon getting up quickly from the log. "is she in our room?" he asked and the maid nodded, he didn't even let her answer when he started to run to his wife.

the closer he was to the room, the more his heart beat, he was scared. he was scared for you. he loved you so much that the idea of your death only brings his as a consequence.

when he enter the room, he was already crying.

"jon" you said when you saw him come in, you were pacing around the room, trying to ease the contractions, your water had already broken, it was only a little more to start labor.

he came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, he walked with you by the hand until the time will come.

he knew his child was coming when you had to lean on him in pain. with the help of the midwives, he lifted you onto the bed and sat behind you, leaving your back with his chest while the midwives made you push.

it was the easiest birth he had ever witnessed, it was only three pushes and his baby came out.

his son began to cry and his eyes filled with tears, he watched as the midwives lightly cleaned him. "he's a boy, your grace. healthy and strong, like a wolf" said one of them, putting your son in your arms.

"ned" you whispered, caressing his cheek with your finger, which was almost the size of his face. "he's small" jon said and you laughed "my little wolf" Jon took your hand in his, reaching both hands towards ned.

ned's eyes widened at his parents' touch, jon didn't expect his eyes to be unique to a targaryen. purple eyes and perfectly black hair, small curlers were already visible.

"he's beautiful, just like his mother," he said, kissing the side of your head many times. "thank you" he said "why?" you asked, turning to look at him as jon took your hand and kissed your palm "for giving me a family."

★, what jon would be like with his son.

at first, he was afraid to touch him, that it would break.

but after his son took his finger in his little hand, he couldn't stop carrying it. he loved his little son ned and his wife.

jon walks ned through the gardens every day or takes him on horseback, he wants him to adapt to the environment that is winterfell.

but you always fill him with clothes that jon sometimes thinks his son even sees what's going on around him.

he introduced him to everyone a few days after his birth, naming him "ned, heir of the north"

you and he agreed that he should sleep with you, there are people who would harm their little son at the cost of everything.

so jon usually sleeps shirtless because he knows his son loves physical contact, he lays it on his chest while he strokes his head.

he loves to see how you fill his hungry son, and sometimes finds it funny how he takes so desperately from your breast.

"he's like his father" he says as he looks over your shoulder as his son desperately eats.

he protects his son with his very life, be it from people or words. he will not let his child be harmed or insulted.

jon is a great warrior with a sword, he knows how to use it with great agility, so he just lets his son ned watch him fight.

thanks to this, when ned was older, you found him several times imitating his father, leading him to be a better sword wielder than him.

he loves his family more than anything in the world, and having children with you is the best thing he has.

so, very soon, you will have a child in your belly again.

masterlist | © vermithorider | do not steal, copy, publish my work without my consent, if you wish, ask and inform me about it, I am the one who should give you my permission.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 116

Part 1 Part 115

Steve’s counting the days until winter break. Something’s settled within him, now that things have been hashed out with Eddie, and he’s ditched his car and old house key. He wants to go home. But there’s a good week left of pretending to still care about schoolwork along with the rest of the seniors. 

High school, as always, is a powder keg Steve can’t wait to get out of – all it takes is a single lit match and the whole barrel’s going up in flames, taking all nearby bystanders down with it. Steve’s never been good at keeping his distance. 

Carol and Tommy used to be his crutches. They both know how to look out for the striking of the match, when to step back, and when to blow it out. They’d circle him like feral wolves protecting their fresh kill. 

Steve’s always been good at reading people’s moods, but never the room. And now that Carol’s on the fringes of the in-crowd, and Steve’s drop-kicked himself out entirely, all they’ve got left is Tommy, and he’s more likely to be holding the match.

Steve’s dressed down for gym for the first time in weeks, his doctor’s note apparently the only stay of execution he’d receive. He’s excited, is the thing. He’s not even particularly bothered by the looks the other guys are throwing him in the locker room, knows there are scars now that there weren’t the last time he was in here: most notably shiny pink burns speckled across his back.

It doesn’t matter. He wants to move.

Hargrove snorts. “I knew you were into some kinky shit, Harrington,” he drawls from across the locker room. “But this is sick, even for you.” 

Steve pulls his shirt down and slips his shoes on without untying them, ready to get out of there. It doesn’t stop Hargrove from calling after him.

“Is that what you let those freaks do when you were all tied up?”

Steve doesn’t mean to turn back, but he does, confusion taking over his higher brain functions. Hargrove’s smirking, a few of his cronies hanging on to his every word and laughing right along with him.

Hagan’s not laughing. His fists are bunched and he’s glaring at Steve, but Steve still knows him. Tommy has never been an angry guy. The anger’s always been a veneer, spread thin, to cover up something else. His hands are shaking right now, like he’s not sure whether to punch Steve or hug him. He’s sucking on his bottom lip like he wishes it was Steve’s.

Steve turns his back to him, and hears his laugh, a smack of skin. He doesn’t look back. 

There will probably always be a Steve that lives inside of him that misses Tommy Hagan. The same Steve that remembers being small in the backseat of his parent’s car and just wants the idea of them back. But, that’s the Steve of years ago from a simpler, shallower time. The Steve of now has people who love him enough to stay when things get hard.

Would Tommy ever have opened his home to Steve when he got kicked out? Would Tommy have ever walked through hell to get him back?

Soccer’s not a high-contact sport, but Hargrove sure does his best to make it one. 

Basketball skills don’t translate well to it, but there’s a certain level of athleticism that makes most hand-to-eye coordination tenible. None of which explains the way Hargrove’s foot keeps slipping when he tries to kick the ball and bashing into Steve’s shins. 

None of which explains the way his shoulder checks Steve’s with enough force to send him sprawling. Twice. 

And he keeps saying shit.

“I get why you’d let those two redheads fuck with you,” Hargrove calls, looking up and down Steve’s own body like he’s trying to picture something tawdry.  “Hell, Carol’s a tight piece of ass.”

He grins smamirly over at Hagan, either not noticing or simply not caring that Hagan’s face has dropped all its forced joviality. 

“But those kids? My sister?” he continues, still grinning like it’s funny. “What are you, some sort of pedophile?”

“I don’t know your sister, man,” Steve calls, disgust twisting in his stomach, knotting his intestines up in creative bows. 

Steve kick, kick, passes the ball around Hargrove’s weak defense, hoping Hargrove will follow the ball. He doesn’t. 

“Even worse, you let Munson in on that action?” he taunts, staring Steve down. 

Steve looks past him, watching his temporary teammate score an easy goal against a goalie who’s clearly never played a sport in his life. He doesn’t know what Hargrove’s on about, but engaging with vipers never leads anywhere good. 

It doesn’t stop him from spewing more poison. “I always knew you were a freak.” He says it like he’d rather fling a different word that starts with the letter F. 

The teacher blows his whistle at them, shouting complaints about lazing about and lollygagging, so they’re all three forced to run to the other side of the field and catch up with the rest of the game. That doesn’t stop Hargrove from running his mouth. 

“Hell, I heard all sorts of rumors about the three of you, back when you were the king. Carol, Tommy, and Steve, the inseparable trio.” Even through all the monologuing, he doesn’t even have the decency to be out of breath. 

Steve’s lived a far more sedentary life this past year, and he’s panting now, forehead tacky with sweat. But, there’s a certain level of athleticism it takes years to lose, so he still keeps up. 

“I know Carol was Tommy’s girl,” Hargrove continues, lunging around Steve to stop the ball, kicking it from foot to foot with coordinated ease. “But I heard you were taking it just as much as she was.” 

Hargrove feints left, right, scores a goal, running backward to get back on defense without turning his grinning face away from Steve’s. 

“Who would've thought King Steve was a fa–”

Tommy Hagan’s fist interrupts Hargrove’s little speech. It connects with a meaty thwack! with Hargrove’s jaw, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. 

So: powder keg, lit match, ka-boom!

“What the fuck were you just going to call me?” Hagan snarls. 

He swings again until Hargrove rolls them over and starts swinging back. Steve stares, stunned as the teacher blows his whistle and starts running. 

He can almost hear Eddie’s soapbox rant. Something about testosterone, and projection, and the homoeroticism of high school sportsball. 

Both boys are bloody and seething by the time they’re pulled apart and escorted to the principal’s office. 

He intercepts Carol at Barbara’s car after school to tell her what happened, unsurprised when she just laughs. 

“Serves him right,” she says grinning and peering into the parking lot like she might catch sight of his bloodied face. 

“Should we do something about the rumors?” he asks, whispering the last word like if someone hears it, they’ll immediately spew homophobic slurs in both of their directions.

Carol just waves her hand dismissively. “Nah, that’ll just fan the flames.” She wraps her hand around his waist and squeezes, fingers tucked proprietarily beneath his t-shirt. “Go home and this’ll all blow over by next week.”

He tells Eddie what happened on the way home.

Eddie cackles. “Of course it would happen in gym,” he says, grinning as he runs a vacant stop sign without even a rolling stop. “All that testosterone running through their bodies until they’ve just got to touch each other.”

Steve settles in to listen to his rant, delighted when he guessed most of the beats Eddie would hit just right. 

He should be surprised when Hargrove and Hagan are sitting next to each other at lunch the next day, laughing and shit-talking as if the whole school isn’t still atwitter about their all-out brawl the day before. 

He should be, but he’s not. Tommy and Carol have always been good at playing the game, and it looks like Tommy’s determined to stay on the board. 

Steve and Carol trade a commiserating lunch, and go back to their respective conversations. Tommy’s been given chance after chance to make a different choice, but he never does. Steve’s not about to light his own match for an old friend who’d never burn right along with him.

Steve counts down the days until he can go home, and stay there with Eddie, for weeks on end. Four, three, two, one. 

Home.

Part 117

[baldursgat3]

Well I was bored so I did what everyone does and wrote a 3.5k word fanfiction and made a brand new blog to post it on. So.

Anyway that thing that Gortash did to his parents was pretty fucked up right? Oh hey Ascended Astarion what are you doing here?

gn Tav, cw for some allusions to some non-con-ish stuff, haven't even done an ascended run yet but it's fine also spawn Tav

He so rarely called on his ability to compel you, but you felt the sensation begin to creep at the back of your mind. It felt like a spider climbing up your brain stem to weave it's web inside your skull.  "Astarion, please don't-" "You are going to watch and listen. Do you understand? You are going to learn what is expected of you. And until you have, you will be obedient and silent. Am I clear, my darling?" "Yes, my love."

It was only supposed to be temporary - a punishment for having escaped yet again. It didn't matter that you had every intention of returning as soon as the sun began to poke over the horizon, you had still found yourself cornered in the streets by your darling. The look of anger in his eyes only dampened by his annoyance.

"It's like you don't even try to listen to me, dearest." He had hissed, crowding you back against a wall. "Tell me how I'm supposed to keep you safe when you insist on sneaking around and frolicking off to the worst parts of the city in the dead of night."

"I'm sorry." You dropped your gaze to the ground. "I just- get so bored sometimes…" Maybe if you blame yourself, your own poor impulse control, maybe that would satisfy him.

Instead he just laughed. A short, almost incredulous chuckle. "Oh, you're bored. I see, well of course that's all right then. By all means, throw yourself to the wolves then, my love. Since you're bored."

He grabbed your hands in his, muttering a quick spell, and you were home. You watched as he opened his eyes again and his shoulders relaxed. You were here and safe beside him again and he could breathe once more.

But still, "This was the fourth time in less than a month. What do I have to do to make you understand?" Astarion's grip on your hands tightened.

"You could just let me go…" You mumbled bitterly before you could think any better of it. The instant the words escaped your mouth you had regretted them.

His eyes darkened and he pulled you in closer. He brought one hand up to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you firmly in place. "We are not having this discussion again. You know you belong here."

"But if you would just let me out once in a while I wouldn't-"

"It only takes once, don't you get that?" He hissed, his fangs bared. "One person, just like me. Hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike. Do you understand how high profile you are? Do you not see other nobility out with their guards? They don't prowl the dingiest taverns they can find for good reason, my love."

"I can handle myself!" You snapped back. He was already angry, you were already screwed, how much worse could you possibly make it?

You watched countless emotions fly across his face before irritation settled. Truthfully, not the worst possibility. "I know that you're strong and capable. But it's been years since either of us have lived that kind of life. Those skills don't just stay sharp, you know that. You can hold your own against one, maybe two people. But what happens when you're surrounded? And you're alone, I don't know where you are, I can't help you. Do you not understand that I'm trying to protect you?" He spoke, almost as though he was trying to rationalize with a child.

In his defense you did huff like one. "So I'm meant to stay locked up here forever because you're afraid?" That was the wrong word to choose. The annoyed look fell into anger as he pulled you in even tighter.

"Yes." It was short and filled with a venom that shot a wave of fear down your spine. He so rarely called on his ability to compel you, but you felt the sensation begin to creep at the back of your mind. It felt like a spider climbing up your brain stem to weave it's web inside your skull.

"Astarion, please don't-"

"You are going to watch and listen. Do you understand? You are going to learn what is expected of you. And until you have, you will be obedient and silent. Am I clear, my darling?"

"Yes, my love." Were the words that came out of your mouth. They certainly weren't the ones you were intending, though. What do you mean? What are you talking about? What are you doing? All questions that were desperately trying to escape, but none came.

His face softened as he pulled his hand away from your neck to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentle smile. "There we are. I love you, you know? So much. I just… I don't know what I'd do without you."

~*~*~

For something you found so horrifying, Astarion was remarkably calm about what he'd done to you. "As irritating and, honestly, pathetic as he was, Gortash did manage to strike me with a touch of inspiration." He had explained as you helplessly smiled back at him.

"The magic he used against his parents was… clever, I'll say. It was terribly cruel of him to leave them like that, trapped in their own minds forever. You have to understand, that's not what I'm doing." He looked so sad, suddenly. He grabbed your hand in both of his and held tight and you felt your face drop to match his emotions.

"I love you. Please, trust me. You don't know this life like I do. You're so- so kind. So trusting and wonderful and lovely. And it's going to get you killed. This is only temporary. I can keep you safe like this while you learn what you need to. This life is politics and swindling and scheming. It's not heroics and good deeds. One day- one day I swear we'll go back but for now this is what must be done. Please just… just trust that I know what I'm doing. And that I love you."

You felt the cobwebs clear for a moment, brushed aside to give you a chance to speak again. He was giving you a choice, though you weren't entirely sure what either outcome was meant to be. You did trust him though, you loved him. And maybe he was right. You had no idea really what the life of this caliber was like. He had been of nobility his entire life. "I trust you."

You felt the cobwebs fill your head again as he smiled, so gently, so sweetly. So why did it make your stomach turn?

~*~*~

He never gave you any sort of timeline. You had expected it to take a few months though. He was training you, shaping you into the perfect little accessory to attach to his hip. It wasn't always horrible, especially at first when he would clear the cobwebs away at night to discuss how you were feeling and what you were learning.

It did feel a bit demeaning. He was your partner not your mother, after all. But you could tell how relaxed he was now that he wasn't worrying about you so much. And it was always easier to learn by doing, even if it wasn't technically you doing anything.

Still, you saw the way you responded to other nobles when they asked you things you had no clue about. Truthfully, you found yourself hoping Astarion might just do this for every big event you went to. The idea of trying to remember all of these names and titles and schemes was daunting. It'd be easier to keep him happy if he was practically speaking through you and it took a huge pressure off your shoulders.

It was when the people left that you began to have a problem. Even when it was just the two of you alone. He allowed the compulsion to drop less and less frequently. Some days you wondered if he'd forgotten it was there at all. You hated when he would spend his time talking with this fake perfect version of you.

Jealousy. It must be. And you felt so stupid for it too. It was still you, your voice and body. And, honestly, half the time the responses this fake you gave were the exact same ones you would've given anyway. So what did it matter so much?

It was frustrating not being able to control your own body. You missed being able to reach out and grab his hand whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed. Most things, actually.

You missed kissing him. It's not that he didn't kiss you like this, or that you couldn't feel it. When he kissed you it just felt awful. Your stomach would churn and all you wanted to do was pull away. You honestly didn't even feel that terrible the time he had forgotten you were in there while you had sex. (Something he had apologized for profusely, long after you'd forgiven him.)

But the kisses were so tender and sweet and they were for someone who wasn't you. It was this fake you that he made for himself and you just couldn't stand it. Next time he dusted you off, you had made up your mind to ask him to stop.

If only you'd made that decision a touch sooner. It had already been over a week since you were last freed from your compulsion. As the days ticked by, you grew less and less confident that you would get the chance to ask.

It has been months already. You weren't entirely sure, but it must've been closing in on a year since he'd first started this project. It didn't feel like it but it was winter again so it must've been.

You kept hoping, every night when you went to bed you silently begged Astarion to hear you again, to let you out of your mind. He never seemed to hear you. Instead he would pepper you in kisses and speak to you like nothing was different.

Weeks turned to months. Every day that went by without being in control of your own body was beginning to take a toll on your mind.

Astarion's touch became less and less welcome until you wanted to shriek and tear at your own skin every time you felt him near you. You screamed and begged and agonized, hoping that if you could just yell loud enough maybe he would hear you.

He had forgotten about you. You became more and more certain with every evening spent on your back for him now. The first time he'd used you like that he was devastated. The idea that he'd had a change of heart was somehow even more crushing than being forgotten. You couldn't entertain that idea.

It made more sense that he'd forgotten you anyway. It had been so long, he'd gotten so used to you like this. He couldn't hear you screaming and thrashing inside your head. And when you were alone, he truly hadn't changed that much about you. Perhaps some of the comments you made were a touch closer to something he would say, but that really only served to push the real you further from his mind.

You had to accept it. You were trapped in your own mind, helpless against the man you adored. You were angry and frightened and so, so desperate to be free. It ached in your chest every time words that weren't yours escaped your lips. You raged every time you felt his touch on your skin. His kiss left you longing to tear out your hair and shriek until your throat burned.

You were truly, utterly helpless.

~*~*~

It was summer now. You were pretty sure, anyway. It was a bit hard to tell exactly when spring ended and summer began when you never saw the sun.

Astarion was hosting a rather large event that evening. You weren't entirely sure what it was for or why. You had stopped bothering to pay attention to these things once you realized it was no longer about learning how to engage with high brow politics. The you that had control would handle it anyway.

You were dressed in a lovely ball gown, a favorite of Astarion's. He liked the wide hoop skirt, it kept people from getting too close to you.

It was like any other stupid high end party. Food that was so decadent and rich you could barely eat any of it. Most of it would be thrown away. What a waste. One of the few thoughts you had as you essentially dissociated through the party.

Your body picked up a small hors d'oeuvre, delicately biting the bite sized snack in two. It was far too unbecoming to pop the entire thing into your mouth, despite it being shaped for exactly that.

"Any good?" A voice from behind you startled you and your false self out of your tiny food related thoughts.

The fake you recognized him first, as your mind still tried to bring the world back into focus. You felt yourself lunge forward, hoop skirt be damned, as you threw your arms around the person in front of you now. Somewhere in the back of your mind you found it extremely strange that fake you would be allowed to do such a thing.

When you finally pulled back, you were present enough to see who you were hugging and it, truthfully, made even less sense. "Gale!" You heard yourself as you bounced excitedly on the balls of your feet. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, it's a big event isn't it?" He grinned, patting you on the shoulder. "Should the famed Wizard of Waterdeep not receive such an illustrious invitation?" He laughed, taking a small step towards the food table. "No, Wyll was invited. He brought Karlach as a plus one. She told me and I pestered Astarion to invite the rest of us. He didn't tell you?"

That sounded about right. You couldn't help laughing. Gods you'd missed them all. "He didn't, but everyone else is here too?"

"Well, no. I got them an invite, that's the best I could do. Shadowheart and Halsin are around here somewhere. Who knows about anyone else." He said, filling up a plate with tiny snacks. A small part of you was happy at least someone was eating like a normal person.

"Come on then, and fill a plate for Karlach would you? I said I'd bring them all back something." Gale smiled back at you as he began filling another plate, presumably for Wyll.

"Have you seen Astarion yet?" Oh, that was a good question actually. At least fake you was thinking about your love.

Gale nodded, picking up the second plate. "He met us when we first got here. Honestly, I expected you to be with him. Barely had a moment to talk, though, before he got pulled away."

"Precisely why I'm not with him." You laughed, picking up the plate you'd made for Karlach. "An event like this is going to have him pulled twenty directions. I'm supposed to stay over here to watch over things but-" But? Fake you didn't argue with buts. How strange. The power of friendship perhaps? Or Astarion's attention being so split with such a large event was allowing even the perfect version of you he hand crafted to slip through the cracks. Either way, you weren't arguing. "Well, it'll be fine to slip away for a moment." Strange.

You followed Gale back to where Wyll and Karlach were standing just a bit too close as they chatted. They were both dressed to the nines, Wyll in a well fitted suit with a short, ornamental cape draped over one shoulder. Karlach was putting him to shame though, in a floor length strapless dress with a slit that traveled halfway up her thigh. You'd never taken Karlach for a dress person and, watching the way she awkwardly moved in it, you'd assume you were right. That didn't stop anyone with eyes from stopping and staring as she walked by. You even found your own gaze lingering a bit too long. Very strange.

"Hey, soldier!" Her voice rang out loud and clear as soon as she spotted you. Before you knew it, you were wrapped in her arms and lifted off the floor with ease. You couldn't help laughing as you carefully tried to keep the plate of food balanced.

Your skirt swished back into place as she set you down, beaming at you. "It's been way too long. Just because you can't go out in the sun doesn't mean Astarion has to lock you away in the dungeon." She laughed again. If only she knew.

"I was surprised I even got an invite." Wyll chuckled, stepping closer. "I don't play his political games, but I'm happy to enjoy some good food with some old friends." Gods he was so sweet. If you didn't know just how genuinely he meant it, you wouldn't trust him.

"Well, I'm certainly happy to see all of you!" It's been so lonely cooped up in here, I've missed you so much. Your lungs longed to scream out to them, to beg them for help.

It was enough they'd taken you away from your post, you knew it was too much to ask for your voice to break through as well. It didn't stop you from wishing with your whole heart for your friends to hear you.

Instead, you had a pleasant conversation about what they've all been up to. Stories of the adventures Karlach and Wyll had been on, an anecdote about Tara that made everyone laugh. Halsin and, later, Shadowheart found their way into the circle, bringing their own stories. It would've been lovely were you not begging to be heard.

Karlach noticed first, of course she did. You saw it happen. You weren't sure what did it exactly but, as you were speaking, you saw her brow knit together. She watched you a bit closer. Fake you must've noticed as well, you felt yourself straighten up a bit more, talk a bit gentler.

It wasn't enough, she'd clocked something and now she was watching. The conversation shifted away from you but her gaze lingered. The you in control longed for her to look away, while the real you screamed for her attention. I'm here, please see me, gods please hear me!

You felt her watching you for at least ten minutes before she leaned in to whisper something to Gale. Oh gods, now he was watching you like a hawk. They both knew something was wrong but they couldn't tell what.

If you hadn't been watching them, you would've missed the small hand gesture and whispered incantation from the wizard. You didn't feel anything but clearly he didn't get what he wanted.

Then you felt it. A small tingling sensation in your head then, suddenly, it was as though the doors to your mind had been thrown open and you felt yourself recoil as though sunlight was pouring in. He was digging into your thoughts.

"Gale!?" You called out desperately in your head, watching as he blinked in shock. The gentle, practiced smile that remained stuck on your face completely opposed to the desperation he heard in your voice.

"Are you all right?" He asked, out loud, much to everyone else's confusion. Particularly Halsin's, who had been actively speaking when Gale interrupted.

"Gale, please! You can hear me?" Your mind screamed.

"Oh, me? Oh, I'm fine." Your mouth replied.

"I can hear you. What's going on?" Gale pressed forward, ignoring the questioning looks he received.

"Um, Gale-" Wyll had started but the wizard was disinterested in interrupting whatever connection he had with you right now.

"Gale, gods, Gale." What could you even say? You had to say something. But how could you explain this? You knew they all disapproved of the way Astarion kept you squirreled away but they never argued because you were both happy and it really wasn't exactly their business. But this? This was different. This was… well. Fucked up.

He was smart though. It didn't exactly take much to put two and two together. Two different answers, two different versions of his dear friend. "What happened? Does Astarion know about this?"

You would've flinched had you been in control of your body. "Really, Gale, I'm all right, I'm not sure what you're talking about." You still smiled warmly.

"He- he's the one who did this but-!" You panicked as you watched a darkness take over Gale's face.

"Okay, does anyone know what's going on right now?" Wyll tried to interject again, only to be met with a misdirected scowl from Gale.

"It would seem our resident vampire lord has gone a bit too far." He practically spat. He had never been overly fond of your relationship in the first place. You were never sure but Astarion was certain it was jealousy - partially why you were so surprised to see Gale had been invited at all.

"Use your words, Elminster." Karlach folded her arms, already impatient to know what was happening.

Gale turned back to you as his anger turned towards sadness. "I don't know how, but he's puppeting them. This-" He waved a hand at your calm, relaxed smile. "This is all fake. I can hear them, they're trapped in there."

"Gale, please, don't get angry, please." You were trying to do damage control now. You didn't want this to break bad for Astarion, you just wanted to be let out. "I- I just think he might've forgotten me, if you just-"

"Forgot you!? What do you mean forgot you? How long have you been in there?"

"Gale! Please don't cause a fuss, please. This- this doesn't have to affect the night. He just needs a reminder, that's all, it's all right."

"How long."

"I… I don't know. Over a year…" You knew saying that would be a bad idea. The rage took over his face again, while the rest of your companions watched with varying levels of confusion.

"Over a year." His voice was flat, his typical affectations and charming cadence gone. "Would someone be so kind as to request the presence of Lord Ancunín? I think we need to have quite the conversation."

[fulgurbugs]

share with us some of your silly headcanons :)

hehe i got two asks about headcanons so im gonna make yours an OT1 post and the other one an OT2 post….

Ok for OT1 here’s a random list of

Alfyn is genuinely a very good artist, he’s spent a lot of time practicing (at first just trying to emulate drawings of medicinal plants working on his ability to understand and identity them) but it ended up just becoming a hobby of his, and he’s pretty good at drawing from life, he can just sit somewhere and draw the scene in front of him or a pretty accurate portrait. this contrasts with his completely illegible handwriting. (tressa specifically finds this baffling as a neat handwriting haver and a…. decent-ish artist. she mostly just likes to doodle. she’s like how can you draw that good and write that bad. tressa they’re different brain areas alright. they don’t translate to each other)

ok. nonbinary tressa. is so real to me. i feel like she’s nonbinary in the way where she doesn’t care about the way she’s gendered, like whatever cis passing she just doesn’t give a fuck, but inwardly she’s like. gender i hardly know her. doesn’t give a fuck kind of thing (ME PROJECTING ALERT) but as she gets older she starts to just have a tendency towards more masculine ways of dressing, keeping her hair shorter, etc. light androgyny. it kind of isn’t at the forefront of her mind tho.

Therion has like, a select few party-trickish skills that he basically never pulls out because they’re objectively useless in a fight or his work or whatever. and you know. he hasn’t really had the opportunity (or outward desire) to like. ever pull out the fact he can juggle or “is this your card” some shit. this is part of the two wolves inside therion (the nobody look at me wolf) vs (the show-off wolf) so even he’s like i don’t even know why the hell i bothered to learn to do this kind of crap. (it’s because he’s got a theatrical streak.)

ok and also i was also thinking abt this a while back from the worst poker game post, but here’s a ranking of how good i think everyone is

1. Therion (cheats, but even when he doesn’t he’s really good)

2. Olberic (experienced player)

3. H’aanit (really good poker face)

4. Ophilia (often underestimated opponent, and she knows it and uses this to her advantage.)

5. Primrose (good but not great)

6. Cyrus (understands all the strategies, but cannot execute and often isn’t able to read his opponents as well)

7. Alfyn (he’s better at reading other people, but unfortunately is basically incapable of looking neutral himself)

8. Tressa (though she, like cyrus, understands the game and what she should be doing, she lacks the experience to be deceptive, is easy to cheat against, etc. but give her some time and eventually she’ll figure it out and rise in the ranks. she can be molded into a champion eventually and win all the money. just not yet.

Here a bonus doodle for this one

[idealistic-imaginings]

there are two wolves inside of me, the one that wishes for sydcarmy to develop in the most unconventional way. i'm talking kisses they completely ignore, staying the night, sharing clothes, calling each other in the middle of the night. together in all the ways but just not verbally defined. hardcore yearning and being complete idiots. the others having to spell it out for them that they're literally in love with each other. And it still taking months, years for it to marinate and stick in their brains

the other, where sydney has lost her trust in carmy and it will take a lot of proactiveness and grovelling for it to be repaired. angry, tunnel visioned for that star. puts her career and ambitions first. her insecurities in the limelight. deep in denial of her feelings. she's kicking and screaming.at her most avoidant, trying to run away from whatever this thing is with carmy. she herself is sydcarmys number one enemy. going completely bonkers. carmy, way more aware of his feelings but never wanting to cross the line with sydney, he'll take whatever she gives him. fearful that he'll lose her again.

(this post is completely inspired by two phenomenal fics I just read: Simmer; Melt by ggs_29 and snow is outside but i'm by your fire (i feel all the love you bring) by adogwithabirdatyour_door)

[wafflerageface]

Top 5: Favorite Durgetash headcanons

Like my personal headcanons or ones I’ve seen?

Personal headcanons:

1. Durgetash were head over heels in love with each other, even if they expressed love in ways that seemed fucked up to everyone else. They were two incredibly lonely people that just clicked in all the right ways to make each other feel like at least one person out there cared about them, and they did.

2. Enver Gortash is autistic/ADHD and Durge was his favourite person to info dump on. I mean look at him. My wife is autistic and they have very similar mannerism and ways of thinking. (In the logical sense anyway my wife hasn’t killed anyone) Especially with how his parents described how brilliant he was even as a child, I can just imagine child Enver coming off as annoying and needy to everyone around him because he wanted to talk about his inventions and no one cared to listen. Durge, on the other hand, grew up in a temple where they were expected to behave a certain way and was essentially treated as a puppet, even if they could’ve called the shots how they wanted to. I can’t imagine being a child taken into a murder cult and feeling anything but fear, even if you don’t need to be afraid. Durge knew nothing but blood and death for years, and along comes this funky little guy that wants to rant for hours about the kind of metal he wants to build his steel watch out of?? Yeah. They loved that shit.

3. Enver is a pansexual monster fucker that will love your Durge no matter what. This man has been so lonely for so long that I genuinely think he doesn’t care what package the love comes in so long as he isn’t being used anymore. You’re a Dragonborn? Cool he can work with that. A tiefling? Excellent he’s gonna use those horns as handlebars. A cute half-elf that has a surprising appetite for blood? Absolutely and can he join the next blood bath please?? He loves seeing you work

4. Durge did not want to be Bhaal’s scion. I know a lot of people don’t like how the Durge opening makes it seem like they’re trying to “erase” that Durge was evil, but I view it more as perhaps Durge was never willing. Just because you’re fathered by a murder god doesn’t make you a murderer, and amnesia doesn’t really change who a person is, they just forget. Your brain literally just won’t let you recall memories. Now personally, I’m all for if you think your Durge hates everything about being the Chosen, or (like for my Durge) you think they just hated not being in control of themselves or allowed to kill as they please. Both are great mechanics for a well-rounded character, but I really think either way, Durge hated being what their father made them into, and would have jumped the moment they could escape. The prayer of forgiveness? A classic here’s my fake apology abusive parent so I can spare myself more abuse.

5. Enver whored himself out as a young man to get lots of power and money and he hated every second of it. We know it’s canon that he slept around a lot before the present day setting of the game, but I don’t think he ever enjoyed it. Not really. He grew up in the HoH where he was beaten and abused and nearly tortured to death on many occasions. He finally escapes with nothing to his name and once again he’s at the mercy of whoever he can convince to give him food, shelter, money, etc for the price of his body. This man absolutely has two wolves inside of him and one is a god complex and the other is an ego so crippled and fragile it’s a wonder he ever comes out of the house. When he meets Durge, he’s willing to manipulate them however he must to secure their alliance. He’s done it before, he’ll do it again. I think he’s so very surprised when Durge catches feelings back, when they go out of their way to take care of him, compliment him, even if it’s in their own fucked up fashion. I think the real sticking point for him would be when he and Durge are attending some high society to do together and they run into an old fling. Enver being upset and uncomfortable enough that they leave early and he tells Durge everything. The next day, and the following weeks, he finds severed hands, fingers, bloodied jewellery, all placed at his desk or beside his bed and he can’t help but smile. Durge bringing him pieces of their kills like a cat is so endearing to him.

I’ve got so many more but I think those are my favourite.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt.33

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x Witch!OC

Warnings:none

Words:3864

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22  Part 23   Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 34  Part 35   Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39

You're awaken in the early morning hours by sharp taps on your window.

Unable to ignore them anymore, you groan and roll onto your side. You had summer school in four hours. What could possibly be important enough to ruin your good sleep? You'd certainly have to give an earful to whoever it was that woke you.

Pulling up the shades of your window you see Quil and Embry outside.

Reluctantly you open your window. "What are you guys doing?"

"He's here."

"They're here."

They both seem to talk at the same time. There could be many connotations to who they could be referring to. A member of the Volturi was the first to pop in your head before you whisper out "Who?"

Embry holds onto you with his warm eyes. "Evita's friends."

Friends. As in plural.

You shut the window without another word so you could hastily get dressed and join them. Scrawling a note and leaving it on the kitchen table, you explain to your parents in case they wake up before you get back that you would still go to school regardless of what was going on.

The three of you weave through the trees deciding to go the back way. At this hour, it would be odd for someone to find three kids running through the streets. Your phone had died which explained why you hadn't known the news as soon as it happened. Quil and Embry though received a text from Sam that called for immediate action. Anyone whom the wolves aren't familiar with had to meet the pack. This served to familiarize the newcomer's scent for future reference and also to check them out and see if they are trustworthy enough to even pass through our land.

A familiar aroma of magic makes your brain feel tingling. They feel it too as you notice Quil actually stumbles a little bit from the heady sensation.

As you got closer, you bumped into both Leah and Seth on their way as well as Collin who was tiredly rubbing at his eyes. No one spoke. Too excited and in a hurry to reach what Seth had once called HQ. Which for your pack it basically was. All pack and most elder meetings took place there.

The two newcomers sat on either side of Evita inside of the living room. A boy and a girl. They both appeared weary from their travels but have a hand on Evita's lap. Dieufel, who you guess is the boy, is hastily wiping his eyes with his free hand; uncaring of who spotted his stray tears. "She was a warm spirit."

They must have been talking about Letizia. The wolves remain quiet until the guests are ready to introduce themselves. Dieufel was the darkest of the three witches sitting on the couch and already you could feel wisps of power wafting off of him. Just sitting there his presence was an enchanting enigma.

Dieufel had to be in his early twenties, exuding an aura of both mystery and vibrancy. His eyes the color of deep onyx holds a glimmer of ancient wisdom that you'd never seen on a face so young. Thick, dark lashes frame his dark eyes that add a touch of allure to his already striking features. Short, dreaded hair like tightly coiled springs are dyed a lighter shade of brown. His attire seems to blend seamlessly with his persona speaking of his connection to both the modern world and the ancient realms of magic. He has quite the elegant speech pattern that reminds you a little of how Edward spoke. He was proper when introducing himself. "Thank you for taking care of Evita during this time." He'd turned to Sam to say. "For your good will, we will join your cause although it sounds like quite the dangerous objective."

Skin as rich and warm as the finest mahogany, Dieufel inclines his head toward the other female on the opposite side of Evita. With this action you catch the sparkle of a gold earring hanging from one of his lobes. "This is my cousin Nadege."

Good looks must run in the family. Nadege smiles brightly at everyone and stands, almost towering over even Sam himself. Her cheekbones were high and fine, emphasizing her large olive green eyes. Her hair gave off a dark purple sheen, weaved into complicated braids that you admire as she moves to enthusiastically shake hands with the perplexed wolves. Nadege greets everyone with a warm, heavily accented 'hello'. "We've flown so far to meet you all! Once Evita called, we took to the sky immediately."

A few members were perplexed by her overall bubbly attitude but smile. It was always a joy to meet non-volatile supernatural beings.

Her features were expressive as she goes on to lament "Oh we were terribly broken to hear that brise took our Leti from this world. You know it killed another one of us just last year too."

As if used to hearing his cousin's ramblings, Dieufel gently puts a hand on her arm to draw her attention. "Kouzen, kalme ou. You'll scare them off." This earns him a rueful glare from Nadege who apparently didn't like being interrupted.

Sam chuckles. "It's alright. The pack is glad to have you here as well. I'm sure Evita has caught you both up on our situation."

Dieufel nods. "Yes she did. Can't say I've ever encountered anyone from the Volturi specifically."

"I didn't even know who they are." Nadege pipes in.

He rolls his pretty eyes but overall ignores her little comments. She reminds you of a chirping bird. Turning to Evita, he adds "I learned about the Volturi when staying with your family. The traveling witch who had stopped for a respite told us about them. So much power concentrated like that is bound to lead to disaster."

Evita nods. "Yes. I have finished one ward to prepare for their arrival."

"I can tell." replies Dieufel as he eyes her still exhausted face.There's color back in her face but the blue, bruise-like shadows are still stamped underneath her eyes. Overall, Evita's energy is lower as well which would tip off anyone who knew he well enough. "And how many more do you need?"

It wasn't necessary to reply. From the sour expression Evita scrunches her face into, Dieufel learns that the quantity was more than three. He hisses out a sigh at the workload ahead but isn't angry. Of course he'll do anything for his adopted spirit sister. Plus Evita was young and still didn't have much control over her magic. She could only summon a small amount of it at a time. Not like Leti who would have been able to create two wards in one day though it would definitely debilitate her for the following week.

Nadege speaks more in that fast language you don't understand, nudging her older cousin with her sharp elbow. Her long, full lashes flutter when she narrows her light colored eyes at Dieufel. "We can make up the rest. Or are you weak?" She teases with a goading smirk and hands on her hips. Lips, dark and glossy, curl in a devilish upward flick. A few of the wolves chuckle at her boldness. Even Sam's body jerks in a silent laugh at their familiarity. A connection that was similar to the pack. Blood was not what tied them, but genuine respect and affection. It reminds you of the relationship between the older wolves: Sam, Jared and Paul. They were brothers in all but genetics. You considered them your own older brothers, guiding and protective.

A giggle leaves Evita and she leans against Dieufel's shoulder comfortably. The first familiar touch she's had in a while. You're happy for her and notice her face soften and finally relax. She must have been on edge since her sister left home.

"Of course we will help." Dieufel says with a lazy smile. He pats Evita's head and makes the top curls bounce in reply. "But I don't know their specific powers, like your Edward's mind reading." The last part is addressed toward you.

"He's told me. I can easily have him write down the members he knows and their special abilities. The Volturi will have many of them on staff." You remember Edward telling you that they've spent hundreds of years collecting vampires with special powers. And damn did you want to hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to keep the Volturi at bay. They could be strong enough to keep them out forever. That would be too perfect. Your life had proved anything but perfect the past several months. You didn't expect it to be.

That makes the others of your pack bristle. What other powers could be out there that they don't know about? Mind reading and seeing the future had been quite the shock to many. Too much maybe.

Brady and Collin exchange slightly anxious glances, knowing that this kind of talk was feeling a lot like a preparation for war. Wolves they were, but baby fat was still evident on their faces. In about a month it would be gone, chiseled away into manhood. Sam would make sure in that time that they would be ready for battle if it called upon them. They'd been kept away from Victoria's army, but they wouldn't be spared from fighting the Volturi. Barely entering high school in two months, your heart goes out to them. At least you had been granted time to enjoy the beginning of your high school years. There wasn't much to enjoy but you could claim that it had been your own.

Dieufel ponders for a second before nodding. "Alright. What is the deadline?"

Wolves anxiously peer at one another. The answer wasn't ideal.

It made Nadege's eyes round from what Sam told them. Which was "Anytime now."

Credulously, Dieufel shoots his dark gaze at Evita who shrugs and speaks Spanish. Dieufel exchanges his own words in her native tongue and you could hear the worry in his voice. Evita switches to English when she notices several pairs of eyes on her. "Besides, we might have another pair of helping hands soon enough." At that, Evita flicks her eyes over to you. Now the pack's attention centered on you. You'd grown used to it by now. Being the one to freaking imprint on a vampire will do that to you though.

You address the room, more so Sam to fill him in. "Evita says Bella has potential to wield magic."

Jared and Paul are comically confused. "Bella Swan?"

Ignoring the whispers spread through the room, Sam uses his authority as alpha to bring people back to attention. Dieufel and Nadege look thoroughly impressed. When the room is once more quiet, Sam asks Evita "Is it possible for her to learn?"

Dieufel stiffly nods. "Yes. . . it's possible but I do not recommend crash courses in magic. More than anything it is an artform which one should take the most care with. Your intentions may be good but if you are not properly trained, it can blow up in your face."

"Bella can do it." Insisting and also wanting to have Bella's back, you tell them what Jake told you. How smart she was and even got a spot in the high school's AP sciences and math. "She really wants to help."

You never expect Leah to agree with you. "The very least she can do is try it out." Better yet, Leah looked Sam straight in the eye with equal determination. "This is her fault after all."

Sam does a good job not to gawk at Leah addressing him as she hadn't so much as looked at him since the whole Emily drama.

He takes Leah's interest seriously although he is suspicious about her motives. Silently Sam consents with a nod. "You're right. The least any of us can do is try. (y/n), can you get into contact with Bella? Or would you rather-"

He knew it may be awkward for you to talk to Bella considering you were the reason why her and Edward broke up. "I don't mind. I'll call her after I get out of class."

That way everyone could have a rest before the real work began. **

Leah was the first one to leave. She didn't know what possessed her to be so vocal about Bella trying her hand at magic. Maybe it was because she wanted Dieufel to look at her and really see her.

A fluke, she'd put it to when she first saw Dieufel. Of course she would be attracted to him, he was gorgeous and his eyes would make any woman envious of his perfect lashes. The speeding of her heart was just one of intense attraction.

This wasn't-this couldn't be imprinting. Leah refused to even compare it to what she was feeling.

In order to not rise any suspicion, she'd managed to keep her features calm . She couldn't let anyone else know. Wasn't the reason why they kept Jacob's imprinting a secret to protect Evita and not cause added stress? Damn. Why him? Why now? Leah felt her steady descent into mental decay. She felt raving mad.

Feet stumbling to the forest line, Leah runs for it. Home. She needed to get home. That was a safe place. At least it used to before her father died. Now she fell into one waking nightmare after another. Blindly groping in the dark for something to anchor herself to so she wouldn't be swept up in the void. Everything was out of her control. What little control she had. When (y/n) imprinted on Edward, Leah half worried that she would imprint on a blood sucker too. Her and (y/n) were anomalies among the all male wolf pack. Even in the wolf's history there had been very few female warriors who inherited the gift of the moon.

She'd prayed to whoever would listen that she would never imprint and lose that freedom in picking her own partner. Her heart wasn't healed yet from Sam. Being in any kind of relationship was not of importance to Leah.

Leaning against the trunk of a tree to catch her breath, Leah felt absolutely fucked. Everyone would know the moment she transformed thanks to the stupid pack telepathy.

You slunk back into your bed. You had two more hours before you had to be up and ready for school. Only a few more days then you could attend to the business of protecting La Push and Forks. Bella managed to get good grades all while dealing with murderous vampires. What was her secret, you wonder to yourself. Many of the wolves hadn't been so lucky.

There was no point trying to sleep. Meeting Dieufel and Nadege wired you up. You'd wanted to stay but were reminded that they too were tired from their travels and would need all of their energy. Fair enough. Amped up like when you first met Evita, you suppose it's the magic of their being that energizes you so.

When the time came, you grabbed your backpack and let your dad drop you off at the rez' high school. You did your best to try and pay attention. Someone simply wouldn't let you though. Embry was just as excited as you were about the new arrivals and all the 'cool shit' they would do. Several times the both of you were hushed by the instructor forced into school as well. From years of goofing off in class, you and Embry were masters at passing notes subtly that neither of you were ever caught. He wrote of his doubts that Bella could actually do magic like them. She was the most helpless thing out there and to think that she had power all along was a little more than upsetting to him. But how could she have known though? You argue back. This back and forth helps to pass the time until you're both racing out the doors, grateful to be done for the day.

You wouldn't waste time stopping by your place to drop off your backpack. Embry followed your line of thinking and keeps pace with you. During your snack break that they allowed you, you'd texted Bella to meet you at Sam's. She'd replied that she'd be there. A quick text had been sent to Edward as well to keep him up to date on what was going on. He said he'd let Dieufel and Nadege settle in before bombarding them with his own family.

Neither you or Embry were expecting to find the tribe elders lined up at Sam's front door. You frown looking from one withered face to another. They looked upset. Sam was bravely facing off against them, keeping his voice level so you couldn't hear the words exchanged.

Paul pulls away from Sam's side to greet you. "Head in through the backdoor."

"What's going on with the elders?" Embry inquires while keeping his focus on the older men.

He grimaces and runs a hand through his short black hair. "They don't like the idea of three witches here. They're worried that the magic they're doing will attract more outsiders. More danger for everyone else."

Not allowing you to say anything else, Paul ushers both of you around the back of the house and through the screen of the back door. It led into the cozy but cramped kitchen where Quil was already there with Seth, Brady, Colin and Nadege. The boys were completely enamored with her, that was clear. And you wouldn't blame them. Like her cousin, Nadege was stunning and her personality added to her overall attractiveness. She was friendly and laughed without restraint at something Quil had said while placing an innocent hand on his forearm.

You notice Quil's ears turn a vibrant pink hue. Oh, he was smitten with the witch. He had a stupid grin on his face that was painfully obvious. The second hand embarrassment wasn't too bad since Nadege didn't seem to notice. When she saw you, her eyes crinkle and attention now directly at you. "(y/n)! I don't think I got to meet you before! Evita told me about you." Okay, maybe you were a little smitten with her too now. She was just so warm and pretty you couldn't help your brain going stupid in front of her.

Was this part of her magic? Maybe it was just her natural charm over people. Her reactions appear genuine though.

"It's nice to meet you too." You earnestly grin. She was such a warm person.

"I was just telling your pack brothers how Dieufel and I flew all the way over here. They weren't aware we were shapeshifters too!" She chuckles and you notice her prominent dimples.

"R-Really?" You'd never another animal shape shifter before. Surely Evita would have told you.

She nods. "While our family has always had magic in our blood, we also have another advantage. From as far back as our lineage goes, our ancestors have been able to turn into red-tailed hawks. Much like your own wolf warriors, our animal forms are larger than the actual species."

You were baffled. That was definitely something worth mentioning from Evita. A reminder that the world was so much larger than you could ever imagine.

Brady was beyond thrilled at the information and looked damn near giddy at the prospect of the great big world you were living in. They didn't see the potential danger that you and the older members saw. With such a large world, there were bound to be bigger creatures that could kill you. While you were definitely in recovery from your encounter with Xiomara, you weren't near cured enough to subdue the chill that seized the base of your spine and had you remembering those dark and evil eyes. They continued to haunt you, her claws were branded into your cheek. Three cruel lines that curve from the height of your cheekbone to the curve of your jaw. You remember your mother crying when she first saw them. The despair that she couldn't hide. She could have lived all her life without seeing the evidence of the reality you lived in.

If you were a better daughter. . .

No. You couldn't dwell on your own insecurities. You don’t have to keep going back to that place.

Going back to that vulnerable time with Xiomara did not serve you any purpose. You knew you had to move past that point in time although it was the one you held tightly in your memory.

A bit breathlessly you ask "Can we see?"

Nadege's smile widens; her limbs elongate and bones shift, her clothes become large as her body morphs to accommodate her changing form. Feathers sprout from her skin, first small and downy, then they grew larger and more vibrant with each breath she exhaled. Her arms stretch into wings adorned with fiery red feathers that blend with cream and brown feathers. Traces of her human self fade. The ground seems to retreat beneath her, and she instively spread her newly-formed wings, ready to take flight. Exhilaration washes over her as she looks down to you and the other boys. Dish towels flutter against the breeze she kicks up with her massive wings. She'd easily transformed into a majestic red-tailed hawk, master of the skies and dancer of the wind.

You're surprised how elegant she was, avoiding bumping into the ceiling fan and anything else that could get caught in her wingspan. She'd been beautiful in her human form; utterly breathtaking in her animal form. She shows off a bit, aware of the universal beauty she possessed.

"Forgive my cousin." Dieufel's voice comes out with a bit of a laugh to it. "She has always been known to be quite the bit of the showoff."

Hawk-Nadege shrieks at him and dives for his face but Dieufel easily reaches out and grabs her by her thin bird legs. She continues to half-hearedl thrash against his grip. It wasn't tight enough to hurt her but forbade Nadege from escaping his grip. She was more so annoyed than angry.

The spell breaks over Quil and the other young wolves as they blink away the dream-like filter that had been lowered over their vision.

Nadege's beak attempts to peck at Dieufel's cheek but he's aware of her tricks and keeps her at a distance. You can't help but laugh at how expressive Nadege was in her hawk form. The others, broken from whatever charm she had over them, bust out laughing.

You still couldn't believe how easily Evita and her friends merged into the pack. Already it felt like you had known them for years. They introduced so much more of the world to our small pack. Paul, from standing near them didn't even seem to mind the different knowledge that they brought with them. He laughs along with everyone else as the large hawk squirms and fights against Dieufel's hold.

In this light moment there was hope for the future. Something you desperately held onto. Hope would be your anchor.

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[lunariiawrites]

Praise

Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Soft dom Cumulus, sexual content, dirty talk, praise

Summary: After a fight breaks out, you're left to clean up the mess, and Cumulus decides to show you a few notes on the piano, among other things.

a/n: My first smut in over seven years and my first f/f fic ever! Feedback is appreciated since I'm always hoping to grow, but I hope you like it!

----

Silence is both a blessing and a curse.

The morning had started oddly, the halls being almost silent save for the quiet footsteps of the siblings migrating to breakfast or whatever tasks they had assigned to them for the day. Fortunately, your tasks weren’t as time-consuming as normal, and having them done within a few hours allowed you to relax for a minute or two; hoping that Sister Imperator didn’t come rushing out of the shadows to scold you.

Sunlight decorated the wall in a multitude of colors, shining in from the stained glass window above. The clock overhead ticked ominously and you got the weird feeling that something wasn’t right. As time ticked on, the feeling nagged at you, gnawing at your brain like a pack of rabid wolves. 

It was the first crash that broke the silence. 

Being near the practice room, it would make sense that noise was being made. However, these weren’t the usual melodic tones that Papa and the ghouls would normally produce when practicing for a tour. Instead, it was a loud din of crashing, shouting, and growls that made you worried to move from your secluded bench in the hallway. After a few more minutes of shouting that suspiciously sounded like Dew and Swiss, the halls were almost quiet again. 

Carefully making your way to the practice room, you peered inside, shocked to see the instruments in chaotic disarray. Papa stood in the middle of the mess, a frown clear on his face as he rubbed his temples in frustration. The door creaked, revealing your presence to the normally cheerful leader. 

‘Strange. Where’d everyone go?’

“Ah, sister.” Giving a sad smile, he swept his hand around the room. “It’s quite a mess, no?” Indeed it was. Instruments were scattered haphazardly on the floor, joined by picks and sheets of music. It looked like a tornado had flung everything around before blinking out of existence.

“What happened?” 

“There was a fight.” Shrugging, he sighed. “Everything was going fine one moment, then the next… Poof.”

Honestly, you felt bad for him. A fight breaking out was never a good thing and being that Papa viewed the ghouls as friends, as many in the abbey did, you could tell that not knowing how to help was hitting him hard.

A soft knock tapped on the door as it creaked open again. Looking over your shoulder, Papa nodded solemnly. 

“Sister,” With a pleading look, he gestured around the room. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Don’t worry about it, Papa.” Picking up some music sheets from the floor, you gave a reassuring smile. “I got this.”

After Papa had left the room, muttering something about Sister Imperator and her constant meetings, you set to work. Picking up a few more stray music sheets, you set them on a stand, almost painfully aware of a gaze locked onto you. 

“Need some help?” A sweet voice startles you, as does the warm breath that tickles your ear. Turning, you’re surprised to see Cumulus standing behind you, surprisingly not wearing her mask. Instead, her glamour was almost fully off, as were the ghouls’ rights within the abbey. 

“Sure.” Handing her the music notes, you smiled sheepishly. “Could you help me sort these? You’d know the order better than I would.”

Nodding, she took the sheets from you, arranging them so they were actually readable. Turning, you began to pick up the various instruments strewn all over, hoping that none of them were broken. 

“It’ll be ok.” Cumulus broke the silence, setting the finished stack of papers back onto the stand. 

“What?”

“The whole fight thing? Dew and Swiss were messing around and it got taken too far.” She explained casually, picking up her keyboard. “They’ll be fine. Probably make up by the end of the night.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Both Dew and Swiss had tempers that sometimes flared as a result of their banter. Thankfully, you had never been on the receiving end of either, the two usually treating you with respect and delivering good natured teasing at the most. 

Cumulus hummed thoughtfully as she played a bit on her keyboard, her fingers tapping the keys lightly. Staring at her reverently, you smiled, getting lost in the music. After a bit, she nodded, satisfied. 

“I wish I could play like you.” 

“Come here.” Cumulus patted the seat next to her and you climbed the short steps of the stage, taking a seat on the padded cushion. “I’ll show you some things.” 

Her hands were soft as they held yours, showing you where to press to produce certain notes and demonstrating certain chords. Eventually, she stood behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as she calmly guided you.

“Good girl.” Cumulus’ unique scent of vanilla and honey floats around you, invading your senses and making you shiver along with her words. “You’re doing so well.”

Your eyes closed as her hands left yours, goosebumps raising as cool fingertips caressed your heated skin, trailing up your arms. 

“I’ve watched you, you know.” Running a hand through your hair, she chuckles as you tilt your head towards her touch. “Always running around, always helping everyone but never quite taking the time to relax.” Claws lightly scratch at your scalp and you groan, the noise barely slipping out.

“You’re so adorable.” Humming, she released your hair and gently grasped your jaw. “Look at me.” The words were a command, wrapped in a soft and gentle tone.

Opening your eyes made you flinch at first, not expecting her to be that close. Her hair spilled over her shoulder, almost tickling your face as you searched her own.

“You’re gorgeous.” Cumulus smiles at the compliment, a light blush blooming across her cheeks.

“So are you, sweetheart.” The words catch you off guard, and a blush flares across your cheeks, and the temptation to avert your eyes is high. Somehow, you keep your attention in front of you. 

“I’d love to help you unwind a little.” Her thumb caressed your cheek almost lovingly, and you smiled. Cumulus waited for an answer, the hand not holding your face trailing up your thigh to squeeze lightly, grounding you for the moment. “What do you say?”

Word of what all ghouls were like behind closed doors frequently spread among the siblings, and the ghoulettes were said to be passionate lovers, if not a bit rough once in a while. Heat pooled in your gut as your mind brought unbidden images of what exactly Cumulus had in store for you if you were to say yes. 

Hand on your thigh tightening, Cumulus growled softly, her tail waving back and forth in anticipation.

It didn’t take much to make a choice.

“Yes.” 

The world spun as Cumulus pulled you from the semi-clean practice room. After a minute or so of walking and trying to keep up with her hurried pace, you ended up in a room decorated in white and blue.

Cumulus’ room.

Pressing you against the door, Cumulus pressed a hand next to your head, slotting a thigh in between your legs as she partially caged you in, a hungry look in her eyes. Control was something that the air ghoulette was normally praised for, but in this instance it looked like she was struggling.

“Last chance, love.” A purr rose from her throat as she nuzzled your throat, nipping gently. “If you don’t leave now, that’s it. You’re mine.” 

Instead of answering with words, you answered with a harsh kiss, pulling her down towards you. 

Her eyes flashed briefly before closing, not that she gave enough time for you to properly notice the flicker of her iris’. Instead of the soft and gentle ghoul you’d come to perceive her as, Cumulus’ demeanor now changed to that of the predator all the ghouls could be at heart.

You weren’t afraid in the least.

Shallow breaths left you as her plush lips continually met yours, the pace of the kiss almost seeming feverish. Your hands wound into her hair, tugging lightly on the blonde curls and coaxing a gentle moan from her. Her lips traveled down your neck, leaving wet kisses and the occasional bite. 

Some of the siblings expressed a fear of being bitten, thinking that the ghouls’ fangs were too sharp. Instead, it seemed to offer just the right amount of pain among the pleasure, and Cumulus was careful not to break the delicate skin between her teeth. She chuckled as you craned your neck to give her more room. 

“Such a good girl.” A lightning bolt of arousal shot through you at her words and she smirked, gripping your chin and directing your hooded eyes to focus on her.

“I think someone likes to be praised.” 

Before long, you’re seated on the plush bed, covers silky against your skin as you fumbled with the buttons of your habit. You had managed to pull the top over your head, making your hair a mess. Cumulus kneeled in front of you, already undressed, a smile on her lips as she pulled off your skirt, claws leaving light scratches on your skin. 

Leaning forward, you kiss down her collarbone and she sighs, fingers tangling in your hair. Murmuring her assent, she pushes your head down and moans when your breath ghosts her chest, tongue darting out to lick a hardened nipple. Cumulus purrs as you worship her, massaging her breasts as you lick, bite and suck. 

Without warning, you’re flipped, Cumulus straddling your waist. She hums, kissing down your collarbone before copying your earlier actions, sucking hard. Your hips bucked, barely moving with the way she was holding your hips down. A keening whine left your throat, and you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Please!” You begged, the plea sounding semi-broken from your throat. Cumulus smiled, lifting her head to regard you carefully. Purring, she stroked a cool hand down the flushed skin of your face, trailing her touch down to your waist.

“What is it, baby?” She cooed, voice soft and sweet once more. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Yes!” 

“I’ll give you my fingers tonight.” Cumulus agreed, dipping a hand beneath your underwear to stroke your core lightly, adding to the fire. “Then if you’re good, you might get something else tomorrow.” A devious light entered her eyes for a moment and she smiled innocently.

“I might even share.”

The bloom of heat raged inside you at her words, and you gasped, bucking against her hand. Cumulus watched lovingly, seeing you become more desperate, stroking your clit with a steady hand and bending down to say the most filthy things in your ear. 

“My good girl.” Pressing a finger into your folds, she whispered sweetly to you, curling her fingers just right to make you see stars. “If I had my way, you’d never leave this bed.”

“Fuck!” Arousal spiked as she played with the sensitive bundle of nerves. A knot settled in your stomach, and bucking your hips again, you pleaded with her to go faster. 

Speeding up her pace, she pressed a kiss to your stomach, enjoying your high pitched moan and the soft squelching noises she was making with her fingers.

“So wet for me.” A broken plea burst from your lips and she leaned down, breath ghosting onto your cunt as she pulled her fingers out, inspecting how wet they were in the light. “So responsive.”

“Cumulus, plea–” Her mouth latched onto you, tongue circling your clit and diving through your folds. “Fuck!” 

The knot burst as she sucked lightly on your clit, groaning contentedly as you came for her as she coaxed you through your orgasm, a pleased purr rumbling in her chest. 

“Good job, baby.” Exhausted, you laid next to her, sighing as she pulled you into her arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get some rest, okay?”

“Not tired.” You mumbled, honestly wanting to stay up and talk with her some more. Cumulus chuckled, pulling the covers over you and watching as you nestled your head into the pillow. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.” She whispered, resting her chin on the crown of your head. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” 

Falling asleep came easily after that, the melody Cumulus was humming making you drift off peacefully, feeling safe with her arms wrapped around you. 

As you drifted off, Cumulus hugged you possessively as she heard the other ghouls through the wall, groaning at the sinful noise you two had made. Closing her eyes, the ghoulette smirked.

“She’s mine.”