#my approach instead was to see things from their pov and teach them that the narrative was very much a way of expression and for once

[rosesradio]

to expand on the prev post we did have a lot of like. expository writing and argumentative essays and critical thinking type things in my English classes. though at the same time i could very much tell it was for the sake of the standardized tests (which sucks ass) and we didn’t have nearly enough analysis of fiction (and if other public schools are the same it definitely shows lol)

[selfloverrrrrr]

PLEASE PLEASE write a dubcon(?) fic about seemingly innocent reader slowly and subtly seducing Priest Gojo whenever she goes to church. One day, her family stays at the church for a little while (for a church gathering), she excused herself from her family (saying that she needs some air), but really she followed Priest Gojo into his room and manipulates him into thinking that doing the dirty with her is okay because it'll only happen once. She locks the door and they do the dirty, she tightens her legs around Gojo's waist so he can't pull out when he came. thank you in advance!!

The sin

Warnings : Priest Gojo, manipulative reader, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, dubcon, manipulation, cuming inside, P in V, biting, size difference....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

This is sin! this is sin! this is sin! I told myself. But this is not even my fault. It's just that girl. Her name is y/n. She does that every time she comes to the church. She knows what she's doing. She kneels at the pew, hands clasped together in mock reverence, but her eyes are on me. Do i realise I'm the one being tempted?

Her skirt rides up just a little when she shifts in her seat. Not enough to be indecent, but just enough for my eyes to flicker toward her—just for a second. A second too long. Oh god forgive for starting. That's also a sin. She's trying to play a dangerous game.

“Lost sheep often stray from the path,” I said with steady voice, but there’s an edge to it now, as if I'm speaking just to her. She tilted her head, lips parting in a smirk. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to guide me… Father.” she said almost..... seductive tone. She's doing it again.

My jaw tenses. She's patient, careful—each visit to the church. A soft touch when I handed her a Bible, fingers lingering a beat too long. A confessional whispered just a little too breathy. A soft bite of her lip when she said "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned".... And I looked in the other direction.

Y/n's POV

It starts small. A touch too sweet, a gaze too long, a confession too sinful. “I’ve been having… impure thoughts, Father,” I whisper in the confessional, trying my best sound innocent. “I don’t know what to do.” On the other side of the wooden lattice, I heard him shift. Even without seeing him, I know he’s tensing, his fingers curling in his lap.

“Temptation is natural,” he says, voice smooth but slightly strained. “The Lord teaches us discipline. You must resist.” I lowered my voice, almost a whisper.....but loud enough for him to listen. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”. Silence. Heavy, charged, and oh-so-dangerous. I smirked. Maybe it's working?

The next Sunday, I wore. I approach communion, standing before him as he lifts the wafer. My lips part obediently, but instead of taking it into my hands, I let him place it on my tongue, my lips brushing the tips of his fingers.

A sharp inhale. A hesitation that lasts barely a second, but I saw it. The way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his gaze darkens before he corrects himself. I swallowed slowly, maintaining eye contact as I whispered, “Amen.”

And when I kneel back at my pew, I didn't miss the way his hands tighten into fists, as if in silent prayer—praying, perhaps, for the strength not to sin. A small smirk appeared on my lips. But I knew, deep down, that soon enough… he will.

After two weeks

They had a gathering in the church. My family was there that night as well. I excused me telling them I needed some air. The church gathering is warm with flickering candlelight, soft murmurs of conversation, and the scent of incense curling through the air. My family is still inside, engaged in discussion with the others, unaware that I've followed him.

Father Gojo walks ahead, his long white cassock flowing behind him as he moves toward his private quarters. He doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in his own thoughts. But when the door creaks shut behind him and the lock clicks, he turns, startled. I lean against the heavy wooden door, my lips curling into something between innocence and something else.

“Little lamb,” he says, voice laced with warning. “What are you doing here?”. I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “I needed to talk to you, Father. Alone.” His blue eyes narrow slightly, his usual playful demeanor guarded now. “You should go back. Your family is waiting.” But I didn't move. Instead, I take another step forward, my fingers grazing the wooden desk beside me. “I don’t think I can.”

He exhales, as if already sensing the danger. “You should.” I cut off his sentence “But I don’t want to.” I replied. The words are simple, but they hang between us like a curse. His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “This isn’t right.” I tilted my head, eyes glimmering with something wickedly persuasive. “Just once,” I whisper. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Gojo is strong. He is trained in resisting temptation, in guiding the lost back onto the righteous path. But I knew whatever I did it’s enough to make him falter. “We can confess after,” I breathe, stepping close enough that my body nearly presses against his. “God forgives, doesn’t He?” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I smiled. “Then stop me.” He doesn’t. My smirk deepens. My fingers trail up, ghosting over the collar of his cassock, the stark white fabric a cruel contrast against the dark intentions lacing the air. Gojo doesn’t pull away. He knows he should. But he doesn’t. Instead, his hands come to my waist—hesitant at first, then firmer. As if he’s gripping onto the last shred of control he has left.

“Once,” he mutters, almost to himself, as if saying it aloud makes it true. I nodded with a smirk. And when his lips finally crash against mine, when he lifts me and took me to his bed. Almost dragged me. Oh he’s already lost. He pushed me on the bed and deepened the kiss. Kissing me as if his life depends on this.

When he pulled away he was breathing heavily. Gasping for Air. "Oh ......oh god forgive me...... forgive me for what I'm.... I'm about to do....." He said between heavy breaths while taking off his cassock. Then he took off his shirt. His toned body flexes against the warm candle lights.

I always admired his height. But never thought he had that well toned body. Looking at his body is already enough to make me wet. "Take off your clothes" his voice broke my staring. "Huh?" I replied looking at his eyes again. "What? Did you change your mind?" He asked. "Oh ...no..." I said and unbuttoned my dress and took it off.

He grabbed the back of my bra and unclipped it in a second and crashed his mouth on my boobs. Giving it wet mouthed kisses and sucking on the nipples breathlessly. Did I make him that much excited? "Fuck!" A chocked moan came out of my mouth as my head fell back and my hand grabbed his hair.

He pressed down his hips on my thighs for some relief as he heard my moan. And I felt that. He was rock hard. Oh he really is too excited. He trailed wet kisses down towards my stomach. Then stopped. Staring at my panties. His hand reached to take off my panties. His hand was shaking.

He slowly took off my panties. He was staring. Then he closed his eyes shut. "Oh god god god .... please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please forgi-" before he could complete his sentence I cut him off by grabbing his pectoral cross and pulling him close. His face was inches away from mine.

He's staring at me. He's still breathing heavily. "You should ask for forgiveness..... after you do the sin" I whispered in his ear and slid down my right hand inside his pants. I was shocked by the length and the thickness. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and stroked it. He moaned so loudly in my ear.

"does it feel good?.... it'll feel even better if you put it inside me" I whispered. His hand reached down and unzipped his pants. His pants fell on the floor. He lined up. His hands were still shaking. I jerked my hips forward and his tip pushed inside. "FUCK!!" he almost screamed. Then his hip jerked forward and pushed the rest of the length inside.

His head fell behind. Mouth wide open. Eyes rolled back. Of course his first time in this. He'll feel that pleasure.... He started thrusting. His length was stretching me to my limit. I grabbed the bedsheet tightly. His dick was too deep inside me. I never felt like this. It feels so good. Too much good.

"f-fuck.... you're so thight......oh god.....so warm....wet... h-huh... feels so good" he managed to say between moans and thrust. He pressed down his body on mine. My hands gripped his back as he started thrusting faster. "Oh my-..... harder.... P-Please harder....huhhh" I moaned in his ears.

He started thrusting at an animalistic speed. The room filled with the sounds of moan, groan, calling each other's name and wet skin slapping sounds. His hand reached down and started rubbing circles on my clit. Pleasure filled me at the same time I was shocked that this man knows how to please a woman? Within a minute pleasure overflowed and I came.

A chocked moan came out of his mouth as he felt me cumming. My walls squeezed tightly around his length. I felt his length pulsing inside me. He was about to pull out to cum outside but I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly and pulled him close. I hugged him tightly as I felt he was cumming.

"NO NO NO NO WAIT-" he panicked. I felt his pulse the last drop of his cum. I unwrapped my legs. He pulled out immediately. "NO NO NO NO NO THIS CAN'T BE!!!! OPEN YOUR LEGS! LET IT OUT! PLEASE!" He said panicked kneeling down in front of my legs. I crossed my legs close and sat up. Gojo was looking at me with pleading eyes.

I grabbed his chin. "Look, father.... A charming, tall, hot guy like you shouldn't be a priest...... I waited for this sooooo long." I said then leaned towards his face. "You have two choices. Whether you leave all this and be mine......or I'll go out right now tell everyone what we did.... and I'll tell that you forced on me.... think about your reputation.... and I know you are too famous in this city" I said. His eyes widened..in fear? I gave his a kiss and after all this he still didn't pull away? A smirk formed on my lips.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[windvexer]

Hi chicken, hope you're doing fine!

I wanted to ask about how to include animal spirits (not individual animals, but The Animal) in one's practice. I'm a polytheist and I never interacted with anything other than gods, my understanding/interpretation of spirits is based on the hierarchical roles of the divine, so I'm not very familiar with animism as a paradigm. I know that some say that gods are just spirits with silly hats (love the image lol), but since it's not my theological pov I'm a bit lost.

I've been thinking for years about adding a few Animals to my cultus, but I don't really know how/what to do - I know how to handle gods, but I have no idea how to do the same with idk the Cat Godhead of all the other cat spirits. I never did anything because I don't want to fuck things up, especially because I don't know how spirits react.

(I also need to add that the ones I'm interested in don't live in my area and surroundings and that for religious obligations I can't touch/interact with animal remains.)

I know it's a silly question, but is there something specific that I can do about this?

Thank you in advance if you'll answer, have a nice day!

Hello! Thanks for your patience.

I think you have great insight that the way you work with gods, perhaps within one or more pantheons, is not the same as working with Oversoul spirits, or whatever you want to call them.

I think it's best to regard each Big Animal as being in its own pantheon, if that imagery translates. Each Big Animal may have its own preference for how you interact with it and what kind of relationship you have.

Big Animals are animals, yes, but they are distinct from the spirits of corporeal animals or those beings recently incarnated or 'close to physical.' They are more alike in dignity to gods than animals, in my opinion.

When working with unknowns, I focus on employing my best rules of courtesy and respect. That way if I piss someone off I can say, "I'm sorry, I did that as a sign of respect, I didn't realize it was rude. Now I've learned." Otherwise I think I might be stuck saying, "well, I don't know what I was thinking," and we can all see that's a much worse excuse. So don't feel a need to cleave yourself from your knowledge of how to work with Gods. Many of those same aspects may be relevant here.

I generally find that when working with Big Animals, you can't necessarily assume what role it will play in your life. For someone, Big Grizzly Bear might become a guardian and display virtues of fierce protection and territorial violence. For someone else, Big Grizzly might appear as a nurturing caretaker who teaches about the joys of feasting on tasty salmon and watching sunsets over beautiful vistas.

What this means for you as a practitioner is that I believe it benefits you to keep a very open mind about what's going to happen, and not try to shoehorn the Big Animal into any specific role, especially not if your expectations are based around Animal Speak or other somesuch "animal correspondence" list.

As such, I recommend being wary of an approach where you meet an Animal just to see what you get, and then take that as some kind of divine soul-lesson about yourself. It's not their prerogative to peer into your depths and present themselves in such a way that harmonizes with your ideal growth.

Instead, it's probably wise to ask yourself exactly what you want from your relationship with that Animal, then explain to that Animal what your goals are and ask if/how that can happen.

To reach out to a Big Animal is trivial, about the same as reaching out to a God. In fact IMO you're probably better served not using animal remains to do so - animal remains are very strong links to a discrete individual animal, and it can be easy to accidentally call forth the ghost of Mittens instead of connecting to Oversoul God-Cat.

Just as you might build one for a God, try building the Big Animal a shrine filled with icons of its living children (or if you like, it's manifested fractal form as it intrudes into physicality), decorated with things from its natural biomes, and!:

Especially include a recreation den, nest, or sheltered resting-space for the animal. It's alright to include traditional man-made substitutes (wooden bird house), as long as those substitutes are made for the comfort and shelter of animals.

(If you're trying to call a predator, an icon or two of its preferred prey may be a tempting lure to get its attention!)

If a shrine isn't possible, try condensing these things into a container like a box or bag; this is functionally a container spell talisman.

Include also some witchcraft: write up a ruleset for this shrine or talisman that clarify you are trying to reach that being you identify as being Cat-Godhead, Animal Oversoul, Top of the Hierarchy. Explicitly state you are not trying to reach out to ghosts or individual spirits. (*You may wish to include a caveat that these 'smaller' spirits may arrive as emissaries or intermediary spirits on behalf of the Big one).

Then, performing whatever ritual of consecration you prefer, consecrate and the shrine or talisman and invite the Animal to dwell there. Here are general tips for this kind of thing:

The road between you and the spirit may be tenuous at first and require many repeated attempts to solidify. Multiple rituals of invitation, perhaps undertaken once weekly or every full moon (etc) may be necessary to establish a solid connection.

All offerings are ideally aligned to that animal's diet, but other offerings (incense, candles, energy, etc) will also be fine. It's ideal to provide an offering each time you call forth the spirit, both to facilitate its presence, but also to tempt it along :)

Animals may begin appearing to you in dreams or in random encounters. I don't mean necessarily seeing a living member of the species, but that coincidental and serendipitous things may begin happening. Pay attention if unusual things happen which seem to be a test of your character, or if you keep having new and repeated dreams. These sorts of things may happen when reaching out to any spirit - they have a way of pressing into our lives.

You are best served to immediately begin treating that animal species with the utmost respect in daily life, no matter what. E.g., you want to know Deer and a friend makes a silly comment about how deer are dumb idiot babies. You should not agree with them. You should say you find Deer to be beautiful and wise in their own ways.

(I hope I've covered all your questions - sorry again for the delayed reply)

[encrucijada]

author ask tag.

tagged by @cream-and-tea loml <3 i wanted to do this with haze dogs but haze dogs and i are fighting as usual. so why not talk about keep staring and i'll never fall asleep like i've been paying any attention to her these past few months

what is the main lesson of your story? why did you choose it?

i don't really write with a "moral" or "lesson" in mind. but i guess keep staring is one of those "hell of your own creation" stories, the plot doesn't happen to the characters in keep staring... they make the plot. they create the torment nexus. i wanted to write a greek tragedy (hence why the world is nicknamed greek tragedy! <- with the exclamation point) and thus the characters had to be the craftsmen of their bad ending. they can choose to change at any point and just... don't. because if they did then it wouldn't be a tragedy.

there is also the theme of "picking the lesser of two evils". the situation in keep staring is lose-lose. of killing one to to save many. of killing a child to save a city. i wouldn't say it's the omelas situation because tebas isn't a utopia with one bad thing about it, the city leans more dystopic... but to keep its balance lake, the dream killer child, must die.

what is your mc trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

no <3 both of my pov characters suck and they shouldn't be inspiring anyone. all they inspire is violence and revenge.

but what are they trying to achieve?

adam: i guess at his core adam wants two things on equal measure—revenge and to be loved. he wants to inflict onto others the pain he's felt. he wants to not be discarded by others. he's screaming LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME while pushing you away.

piedad: the goal that is entirely piedad's and not the narrative's is the well-being of lake, the dream killer kid. piedad is complicated because they experience time in a circle, everything that has happened has yet to happen, everything that hasn't happened has already happened. and they oscillate between flowing with the narrative and ramming against the walls of it. you could argue their goal is to let the tragedy happen.

and what am i trying to achieve? with adam i am trying my hardest to write a "bad boy" archetype who isn't cringe. a lot of adam's ✨️vibe✨️ looks like your typical male love interest in your shitty ya book so i an balancing that with his deeply interesting psyche. while piedad's main challenge is their role as the narrative/oracle, conveying the skewed way they experience the passage of time and how that affects them down to the marrow of their bones.

sunstars is also an attempt at subverting the roles of hero and villain. adam is our "hero" with deeply selfish goals he is excusing with the greater good, if no one else will pull the trigger he will. piedad is our "villain" with a selfless goal, protect a child whose only crime was being born with a power he doesn't even understand... something she can relate to. it sucks that lake is such a danger for everyone.

what did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

if you don't know the lore keep staring started as percy jackson fanfiction. it grew arms and legs and when i transferred it into an original ip it was fairly easy, as the characters had only really interacted with luke castellan instead of the main plot. from pjo i kept the existence of "gods" and "demigods", translated into "dreams (or oneiroi)" and "dreamers". but that's where the similarities stop. the oneiroi aren't the parents of the dreamers, the only thing linking them together is the simple fact that dreamers are the only "waking" creatures who can interact directly with the oneiroi. there is a strange liminal divide between the oneiroi and the waking world, they can stroll around the city but they cannot interact with it, people can see them but not approach them. dreamers can because they belong half to the sleeping world and half to the waking world (you can see here that concept of demigods being affected by both the divine and the mortal).

the raven cycle is another obvious inspiration. i read about ronan's powers when i was 16 and haven't let go since. i have been creating my own rules to differentiate maggie's dreamers from mine. examples include: my dreamthings rot away after about a week unless you are a dream thief (never rot) or a dream prophet (rot only after the vision has passed); <- as you can see there are types of dreamers in my world, the majority are run of the mill dreamers but there are some who can only dream one type of thing (like coins) or who dreamwalk instead of pulling things out of dreams, or who can kill people in their sleep; all dream creation creates "dream waste", a substance unique to each dreamer that expells out of the head's orifices (mouth, nose, eyes, ears) after pulling something out. and unlike maggie's dreamers mine can't pull full sentient people from their dreams, all copies must remain in the dreamspace.

to build the presence of the oneiroi i've used a mixture of the fears from the magnus archives and the fae folk of mabel podcast. they're not even supposed to look human. they have more in common wity the angels of neon genesis evangelion than they do with us. they're collages of things. ideas of things. they're dreams. i also wanna shout out el laberinto del fauno because its dark fairy tale vibe with deadly trials coming from the mouth of some weird entity you can't be sure if it's good or evil. and finally we have tears of the kingdom, exclusively in regards to one piece of dialogue from rauru about how the zonai made the constructs but eventually the constructs surpassed them and the zonai started learning from them... that same philosophy applies to the oneiroi. they are dreams so they were dreamed. eventually surpassing the dreamers.

hollow knight gets a shout out because of the physical presence dreams have in the dying kingdom of hallownest. the infection of the radiance and the dream killers have things in common.

i've recently started listening to i am in eskew and the sentient eldritch city is the vibe we are bringing to the function, aka the city of tebas where keep staring takes place. yes, it is named after thebes from real life but most importantly thebes of the greatest greek tragedies (the oedipus cycle). nothing but thieves' album dead club city was a canon event for keep staring. so much of the neon city vibe of this book exists because that album came out in the middle of me crafting the story.

how many chapters is your story going to have?

i usually try to plan around 23(?) chapters, which is as many beats as the three act structure has. i don't follow the three act structure rigidly or... at all. truly i just use it to help me see cause and effect. BUT keep staring is working on a back and forth where adam gets 2 chapters and then piedad gets 2 chapters, etc. so it could easily double.

is it fanfiction or original content? where do you plan to post it?

both lmao?? i don't know about posting the pjoverse online anymore because i don't want this to be recognised as "percy jackson fanfiction", or have that inform the opinion people have of the characters. and as for publishing... i am thinking indie publishing. if only because the state of traditional publishing is atrocious.

do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? what other writers do you follow?

um. remember to not lose yourself posting ✨️aesthetically pleasing✨️ excerpts that you think will attract an audience. making friends is easier than you think, remember we are all freaks on tumblr so no one is better than anyone else. making playdates for your ocs and your friends' ocs is a totally valid form of bonding. listen to your body when it's asking for a break. don't ever feel like you have to stick to just one thing, expand your horizons and write as much or as little as you want! have fun and be yourself. your readers are out there.

i follow... wayyyy too many other writers and i am so afraid to forget to tag someone. but here goes: @saltwaterbells @coffeeandcalligraphy @carnivalls @kiki-is-writing @teddywriting @moonssugar @chauceryfairytales @lasbrumas @woundlight @annlillyjose @aritany @dallonwrites @dogyip @onomatopiya

if you want to do this tag, consider yourself tagged!

[ask-the-koopa-family]

Hi Natsuko! I know it’s not an ask or anything, but I was gonna show you about my take on the story about Betty’s death, based on your AU, and it takes place before that based on Mario’s POV. ^^;

Betty’s Death story 

It was just a normal day in the Darklands, and Betty was busy hanging around with her eggs and especially her younger son Ludwig. She was teaching him how to play the piano, but noticed a familiar scream.

Betty: “Huh, what is that?”

She stands up to go see what’s going on, but Ludwig stopped her curiously.

Ludwig: “Mama?”

Betty: *smiles and cups Ludwig’s cheeks* “Don’t worry, Luddy, Mama will come back to you some time after I take care of things. Okay?”

Ludwig nods reluctantly. Betty smiles and kisses him.

Betty: “Good boy.”

Then, she calls out to Kamek who approached her.

Betty: “Kamek, please take care of my son. I’ll be back later.”

Kamek: “Yes, Betty.”

Betty then walks out to see what’s going on, leaving Kamek to watch over Ludwig. Meanwhile, Bowser was surrounding Princess Peach who was frightened.

Bowser: “Peaches, beautiful.”

Peach: “Please let me go! I want my freedom!”

Bowser: *smirks* “Why? Don’t you wanna love me?”

Peach: *crosses her arms* “I’m not falling for it.”

Bowser: “How about you come for a smooch?” *puckers his lips*

Peach looks disgusted as a familiar Italian voice called,

“King Bowser!”

Bowser and Peach looked back and saw Mario at the entrance of the Darklands. Peach was in relief.

Peach: “Mario! You’re here!”

Mario: “Let-a her go, Bowser! The princess does-a not belong-a to you!”

Bowser: *chuckles evilly, cracking his knuckles* “Well well well, if it isn’t that Italian plumber who’s here for Princess Peach? If you want her, then you’ll have to go through me… OVER MY DEAD BODY!” *breathes fire* 

Mario got his fighting stance as Bowser chuckles evilly again. Meanwhile, Betty comes outside the castle and was confused.

Betty: “Bowser, what’s going on? And why is the princess— *sees Mario* Who’s the man with the mustache?”

Peach: “You! Excuse me!”

Betty: “Hey, can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Peach: “Is this your brother?” *points at Bowser* 

Betty: “Yes, why?”

Peach: “He kidnapped me and Mario is there to stop him!”

Betty: “Oh, so the man with the mustache is Mario?”

Peach: “Yes!”

The fighting sounds are heard as Betty and Peach turned to see Bowser and Mario fighting each other. They were in the middle of the fight soon after.

Mario: “Had enough?”

Bowser: *cracks his neck* “Not just yet… but this time you’ll face danger!” *roars and breathes fire, causing Mario to jump up and hit Bowser on the head*

Betty: *gasps* “Bowser!”

Betty was desperate to see her brother getting hurt by Mario. She didn’t know what to do, but wanted to protect her family. Suddenly, Mario attacks Bowser and Bowser was hit to the ground of the bridge— where Mario already crossed to fight him. Mario got his fist ready.

Mario: “Last chance, Bowser! Either you free the princess or you are going down for good!”

Bowser: *evilly smirks* “How about you make me, plumber?! Even with that against me, you’ll never save the princess and she’s gonna be mine for good.”

Mario clenched his fists with anger as he was close to fighting him. Bowser nearly sits up, still in pain, smirking at Mario.

Mario: “NEVER!” *goes to punch him*

Betty: “BOWSER NO!” *runs over to stop Mario from hurting her brother* 

Peach: “Betty, don’t!”

Peach was desperate to see what’s going on, but she can’t do anything since she’s in her cage. As Mario was this close to killing Bowser, Betty jumped in between them.

Betty: *shields Bowser* “MARIO, STOP!”

Bowser: *gasps* “Betty!”

Mario was halfway close to his punching strength as he ran close, but Betty keeps shielding her brother to protect him as Mario then stopped.

Betty: “Just don’t kill my brother, okay? If you want Peach back, then take me instead!”

Bowser: *feels sad* “Betty, no!”

Betty: *smiles in tears at Bowser* “Bowser, this is for your own good… to live your life fully. Please, just at least don’t forget about me, okay?”

Bowser: “…” 

Bowser was frozen at Betty’s words. He didn’t want anything happen to his sister.

Betty: “It’s okay. Just do this one thing for me.”

Bowser: *in tears* “… Yes…”

Betty: *smiles* “You are the reason that I’m happy. You make my life whole, and you are as brave… as our parents.”

Bowser was in tears as he heard his sister mention their parents, but smiles back. Betty smiles in tears again.

Betty: “Take care… and… tell Ludwig including my children… I love them.”

Bowser shook his head as he whispered out.

Bowser: *whispers* “… I promise, Betty…”

Betty continues smiling at her brother, but she was startled Mario’s voice.

Mario: “Move!”

Betty doesn’t move as she bravely keeps shielding Bowser. Mario was shaking in fear as his fists clenched.

Mario: “Move… I don’t want to hurt you…” *steps closer*

Bowser didn’t know what’s going on, but he stood up quickly and managed to get his sister to get out of the way.

Bowser: “Betty, get out of the way! You’re gonna get killed!”

Mario: “On my count to 3 and you will move away!”

Peach was very worried for Mario at this time.

Peach: “Mario! Leave her alone!”

Mario: *gets his fist ready to punch* “1… 2… 3!”

Bowser: “DON’T DO THIS!” *runs over to grab Betty*

Betty: *turns to her brother* “BOWSER!”

As Bowser was about to grab Betty out of the way, Mario felt tears form, ended up swinging his arm and… His fist had punched Betty, causing Mario to hit her on the side. She lost her balance and fell from the bridge! Her hairbow fell from her hair.

Mario: *realizes the accident* “NO!”

Betty was screaming at the top of her lungs as she fell and… her body fell into the lava with a huge splash. Bowser didn’t realize what he had seen. He then turned to Betty’s hairbow, fell to his knees, and felt his heartbeat going on.

Bowser: *screams* “BETTY!!”

Bowser slowly cupped his sister’s hairbow in his hands. His tears started falling from his face.

Bowser: *quietly* “No… please no…”

It was already too late. Betty was dead. Killed by Mario. Peach was in shock at what happened. Mario covered his mouth in tears. He held onto his head, realizing that he made a mistake.

Mario: *to himself* “What have I done… it was an accident… I… I didn’t mean to kill her…”

The cage lids opened from below, and Peach was released after slowly landing onto the ground. She runs over and comforts him.

Peach: “Mario… it’s okay… it’s not your fault….”

They both looked at Bowser sobbing for his sister. He didn’t know how Kamek and especially Ludwig, his sister’s son, would reacted to the death of Betty. Mario stared at Bowser, but said nothing. He ran away in tears, taking Peach with him.

Bowser: *growling* “… You monster…” *roars* “YOU MONSTER!!! YOU HAVE KILLED THE PERSON I HAVE CARED FOR! YOU, MARIO, HAVE KILLED MY SISTER… AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY, AND HAVE MY REVENGE!!!”

He ends up slamming his fists on the ground and continued to cry. However, Kamek ends up going to the commotion. He was holding Ludwig.

Kamek: “Sire… what happened?”

Bowser said nothing, but he showed him his sister’s hairbow.

Bowser: “She’s gone… Mario had killed her…”

Kamek was in shock but sadness; eventually Ludwig started to cry. Their hearts broke at the moment, and mostly Bowser’s. First his parents were dead just when he and Betty were kids, and now… his sister, Betty, was killed by Mario— but it was an accident. Bowser never wanted to believe that, and he hoped one day he would get revenge on Mario… by taking away or even killing some person Mario has cared about… Will he?

The end.

I know it’s very long, and yes, very sad… 😭

… but what do you think about my take on for the Betty’s death story based on your AU? And yes it’s before that on Mario’s POV. It’s fine with me if you’re not familiar with it. 👌

YESSSSSSSSS AJVDJDJEVFJDJDV IM LOVIN' IT

Heck yeah, the tension ,the sadnessss

Good job !! I really like it!!!

[captaintightass]

First Encounter

Cassandra Cain x GN reader:

Y/N's POV:

Tonight was just one of many cold nights in the city of Gotham, a place riddled with murderers, psychopaths and strangely obscured villains for some reason.

I, like many others is just another citizen in this godforsaken city, living a boring life, working a boring job and made a fairly decent living, but I was just another individual, nothing special or interesting about me really.

Speaking of my job, I managed to finish my shift and I was currently heading home for the night, wanting nothing more than to just collapse on my bed. I didn't have a car and decided instead of taking the bus, I decided to walk back.

Despite Gotham being the crime syndicate that it is, tonight felt strangely peaceful and quiet, a rare but welcome occurrence. Cars passed by, blowing more cold wind into my face, the street lights illuminating the roads, sounds of bustling city being heard from the distance, these were things I didn't really take the time to notice since I always take either the bus or the train. But even though I took the time to notice my surroundings, I still wanted to return to the comfort of my small, decent apartment.

But I clearly didn't notice my surroundings enough. I decided to take what I thought was a shortcut through an alleyway, not considering the fact how much dark and dingy it looked compared to the streets. As I decided to turn around and walk back, I was stopped by a group of guys.

They all looked like what you expect in a dark alleyway, there were about three men all dressed in a variety of clothing and were in different shapes and sizes, but the one thing I noticed was that they were all taller than me. The only similarity they had was the crudely painted clown makeup they had on their faces, probably inspired by the clown nutcase that's on the news at least 5 times a week.

The one in the middle, who was clearly the leader due to his size and large physique approached me.

''Didn't your mother ever tell you not to walk by yourself in sketchy neighbourhoods?'' He asked with a smirk on his face, the dried up red paint on his lips emphasising it.

Being the non confrontational type, I decided to turn around and walk away, but to no ones surprise, they stopped me before that happened. The one grabbed me by the back of my jersey, swinging me against the nearest wall as my back collided with the hard brick surface.

''Augh! Come on, cant you just let me go, I'm not looking for trouble.'' I said trying to sound a little brave, but they could clearly tell I was intimidated.

The men just chuckled, one of them pulling out a knife and pressing it against my neck, causing any sort of fatigue I had to vanish as the reality of the situation immediately kicked in.

''Oh no no, see now me and my boys here are gonna teach you why you shouldn't just walk all by your lonesome. We could beat you up and steal your wallet, or just slice you up and let you bleed to death.'' The leader said with disgusting amusement lingering in his voice.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and the cold steel blade pressed against my neck as I'm pushed against the wall, unable to get myself out of this, god is this how I die, in some alleyway that reeked of garbage and piss?

Just as I was about to get sliced up I heard a clink sound as the knife that was held at my throat flew out of the crooks hand. The man let go of me as he held his hand, confused about what just happened.

The group then looked around wandering who stopped them, and from the shadows emerged the source of who interfered with their attempted murder. The figure, like the shadows she walked from was adorned in black, not a single inch of skin shown on this person, it had what looked like a bat symbol on its chest and two pointed horns on the top of its head. Most would think that its the caped crusader himself, the one that every crook, from petty armed robbers to the crime lords of Gotham practically feared. But this figure looked smaller than what most people thought of him, and they had a smaller, more petite frame, it was clearly a woman. Not to mention that her mask was completely covered up, as if someone took Batman's iconic cowl and stitched up the parts where the eyes and mouth should show. Even if she wasn't Batman, she sure as hell looked like a terrifying version of him.

But the thugs clearly didn't feel the same way as they soon began to approach their new target, angry that this supposed pretender stopped them from teaching me their so called ''lesson.'' Their irritation was mixed with their cockiness thinking they could easily overpower her.

They were clearly wrong.

Soon this bat heroine jumped towards the group, hitting each one with a series of punches, kicks and dodges. Despite her intimidating appearance she moved so smoothly and with such accurate precision as she landed multiple hard hits, not even looking the littlest bit tired. I simply just watched as I sat on the ground, trying so hard to simply just get up and run away from the conflict, but something in me just couldn't do it, I was simply awestruck yet frightened.

The crooks ego pretty much crumbled as they were either knocked out or quickly fleeing from the scene. The figure simply stood there as she took time to notice her surroundings, looking around to see if any of them were still trying to put up a fight. She then noticed my gaze and slowly began to approach me, walking as if she didn't just take down a whole room of dangerous criminals. I simply just sat there, looking up at her as she inched closer to me. I would be lying if I said I wasn't petrified, hoping that she wouldn't beat me up too, but that was a dumb thought....right? My thoughts then vanished as my caped saviour offered me a hand.

''Are you...okay?'' The vigilante said in a surprisingly soft voice that contrasted with her dark attire.

I slowly but carefully give my hand to hers, pulling me up. ''Y-yeah...I'm g-g-good.'' I said trying not to sound afraid, but she could clearly tell by my stutter.

''Its okay...wont hurt.'' She reassured. I was a little confused by the way she talked, missing some words and taking a little longer to finish her sentence, maybe she simply didn't speak English.

Without warning she began to examine me, looking around to see if I had any bruises or injuries that I sustained. At first it felt incredibly strange and awkward since I clearly didn't have any visible injuries but it felt almost.....caring in a way, as if it was a mother was checking their child to see if they were okay. She then stopped examining me and backed away a little bit, knowing that I wasn't hurt from the encounter.

''Th-thank you for saving me life,'' I blurted out without even thinking, my mind was currently going 100 miles a minute, trying to comprehend this situation, cause even though I've lived in Gotham for years, I have never encountered one of Batman's vigilantes, but I never thought that one of them caused me to internally freak out about this.

The caped hero then turned around, heading back somewhere, possibly to continue her patrol through the city. But I didn't want her to leave without asking one thing, before she fell back into the shadows.

''W-wait....what's your name?'' I asked, stopping her from going away. She turned her shoulder, looking towards me.''

''.....Orphan.'' She said, I was clearly not surprised that she gave me her hero name, because like Batman she probably doesn't want people to really know who she is beneath the mask, but I was in a way satisfied to know the name of the one who saved me.

She then used some type of grappling device to pull herself up towards the nearest building, disappearing from the scene. I simply stood there, looking around at the very people who tried to kill me, knocked out cold on the floor.

''Orphan.....I hope to see you again.'' I said quietly to myself, a part of me hoping that she heard what I said.

Cassandra's POV:

I was now sitting on the ledge of a nearby building, looking down onto the streets making sure that no one else was committing crimes tonight.

But there was one thing I couldn't get off my mind, that person I just saved a few minutes ago. Why cant I stop thinking about them, they were just some random civilian I saved, I've done that a dozen times already. So why cant I now get them out of my head?

I mean maybe its the way they were looking at me, or how they stuttered over their words trying to thank me, or maybe that cute little confused expression they had on their face....wait what am I saying, I shouldn't be having feelings for some random stranger I've just met.....but I do hope I get to see them again.

Cassandra then pulled out her grappling hook and shot towards the nearest building, zipping through the nights sky as she went back to her patrol, unable to think of anything else besides the attractive looking civilian.

The end....for now.

(I wanted to post my little oneshot of Cass and Y/N's first encounter cause I wasn't getting alot of attention on AO3, but I hoped you enjoyed this. If you want to request, comment on my fanfic on Ao3, called, 'Cassandra Cain x Reader randomness', terrible name I know.)

(Also credit for art goes to @The_Hikari_)

[thereweredragonsss]

Saw you're asking for requests 👀 would you write something HTTYD from Toothless' pov? Maybe about Hic teaching him to write. With some "I wonder what name my cat gave me" elements to it?

I know it's very specific but 🙈 this thing has plagued my mind lately.

Thanks in advance!

Oh my god! So sorry it took me so long. I had some stress with college but here its is. Enjoy reading!

...

Contains: friendship

~ English is not my native language ~

All my fics

...

The night fury wakes with incredible pain. It almost catapultes him back into unconsciousness. But he fights against it. The pain spreads from his tail fins. Or rather, his one tail fin. The events of last night come back into his mind. Him flying over that island, fighting with the other dragons against the viking's attack. But then suddenly, something hit him and he lost balance. The last thing he remembers is the crash through the capony. And now he is here. The dragon tries to stand up, but a rope stopped him. It is wrapped around his whole body. A frustrated growl escapes his throat as he tries to free himself. But that rope just gets tighter - whoever built that must be an excellent craftsmen.

Suddenly, the dragon hears something in the woods. A twig breaking. His eyes dart around and his ears twitch. A boy steps out of the woods. Climbing over the destroyed ground, that the dragon had created with his crash. Blasting fast, the night fury  closes his eyes, trying to stifle his breaths. He could hear the boy taking to himself. He could feel a boot against his leg. With an unsteady growl, he pushes the human away from him. How dare he put hand on him!?

He opens his eyes and could see the boy, a dagger in his hand. Fear rises up in his body and his primal instincts take over. He wants to flee but these stupid ropes pin him in place.

The boy now screams: "I'm a Viking!"

The night fury takes a deep breath. He could see the determination in he kids eyes. A feeling of hopelessness floods the dragon and he puts down his head. Waiting for the final strike. But that never comes. Instead, the buy cuts his strings lose. He is free! The night fury hesitates a split second. Then he furiously jumps onto the boy. Wants to kill him. But there is something in that kids eyes. The same fear, the black dragon just had seconds ago. So he gathers all his anger and roars loudly in his ears. He  turns, spreads his wings - only to crash again.

Stranded. He is stranded in this stupid cove. He had tried to fly away all this day. But the missing tain fin makes it impossible. Unsettled, he paces back and forth. There must be another way. He gets distracted when he hears someone approaching. It was the boy that shot him down. The night fury growles as a warning. But the boy doesn't seem afraid. The night fury's eyes fall onto the fish in the boys hand. His stomach rumours. When was the last time he had eaten something? Carefully, the boy comes closer. Pulling a dagger from his belt. The dragon moves into attack pose and growls. Ready to fight. But the viking boy throws the dagger away. He is no threat anymore, the dragon realises. Curiously, he closes the space between them, his eyes on the fish. The boy reaches out his hands and frownes.

"Toothless", he says.

Toothless!? What kinda name is that? But it seems funny, because the boy thought he had no teeth. A dragon without teeth, c'mon! But the boys smile moves something inside him.

In the next few weeks, the boy - whose name is Hiccup by the way - visits him almost every day. Brings him fish and talks to him. He tries to get to know him, to learn more about dragons. And Toothless tolerates it. He is also  curious about humans. He watches him write something in his little book. Watches him draw. And one day, the boy draws him - Toothless. The dragon has never seen that behaviour before. Normally, humans would kill him within seconds. Especially him. But that boy is different. Hiccup draws Toothless face and when the dragon imitates him, his eyes wide. It looks funny, Toothless thinks. The boy stumbles around, trying not to step onto the lines. Toothless watches him amused. And suddenly, he stands directly in front of the dragon. The boy hesitates. But then he slowly reaches out his hand. Toothless growls. That was way too close. Even for that boy. But then, he moves his head away, and something inside Toothless clicks. The kid could've already killed him if he wanted to. But he didn't. So Toothless decides to trust him. Let him touch him.

The next months, they became friends. Hiccup built a new tail fin for his dragon friend. Toothless could fly again! And even if the beginning was a bit rusty, due to the fact that his human friend had to help him steer, it feels heavenly. They fly around the islands and discover the place. It could have been amazing, if there weren't the villagers. They killed dragons their entire lives. And only his friend hiccup is the first one to befriend a dragon. Toothless is afraid, they could find and kill him. So they hide. But then they discover the dragon queen and they have to do something. They fightt it, kill it. And almost get killed themselves. Toothless can barely save his human friend.

The village turns into a dragons paradise. And Hiccup and this friends become a dragon rider squad. They discover islands, new dragon species and have a lot of adventures. The Viking boy, who almost killed him becomes his best friend. And Toothless his. As they get older, they change. But their friendship remains. One day, Toothless catches his friend staring at Astrid, the blonde viking girl in their group. Toothless knows, that Hiccup has a crush on her. But that stupid boy wouldn't admit it. So he has to help him a bit. Toothless pushes Hiccup's shoulder from behind. He stumbles, only his metal leg catching his weight. Toothless mimicking towards Astrid. Hiccups eyes wide. "Stop that!"

Toothless makes a little growl.

"No, I am not in love with her." Hiccup insist. But Toothless can see it. He can see it in his eyes, his movements. And sometimes, something inside him wishes he had the same feelings. That he could share his life with someone. Sure, there is Hiccup, but he is a human. And the other dragons, well they are a different species. He is the only night fury out there. Sometimes he just longs for someone who is just like him.

With the years passing, their adventures get bigger. They discover new worlds, Hiccup's lost mom. And they fight new enemies. But Drago Bludvist is another level. Somehow, he can control dragons. He even controlles Toothless. And he shots Stoick the Vast. He dies. Hiccups' father is dead. And it is his fault.

Toothless wings hurt. His heart hurt. He almost can't bear the fact that he - Hiccups best friend - killed his father. And now he is under Drago's control. But he can't do anything. He tries fighting against it, bit the whirring and buzzing in his head just gets louder. You killed him. He hates you. I am your new master. He hates you. It's your fault.

Toothless wants to give up. But Drago's control doesn't allow it. His gaze is blurred. Every cell of his body numb. But suddenly, a silhouette moves into his view. A voice. Hiccup? No that couldn't he, he hates him.

"It's me, bud"

Bud. Something inside him flickers. It is Hiccup! But the buzzing only gets louder, he couldn't hear him anymore.

"... not your fault." Not his fault?

"You're my best friend"

Toothless shakes his head. It must be Hiccup. The whirring fades for a second and he could see more clearly. Brown hair, green eyes. Hiccup! He doesn't hate him. He came back. His best friend came back! He lets out a happily roar and pushes Drago from his back.

A few years later, they have to leave Berk. Toothless' heart breaks, the island had become his new home over the last couple years. But he knows that his rider is devastated. Hiccup had been grown up there and now he has to leave this place. The only ray of hope for Toothless, is her. The lightfury. Every time he thinks of her, his heart flutters. He had never been in love before, but he knows it must be love. It feel exactly like the closeness Hiccup and Astrid had. Hiccup had told him a lot about those feelings. (Only in private of course, when no other dragon rider was around). He wants to see her every day, every second. And his rider had noticed that.

So one sunny afternoon, Hiccup builds a new tail. One that replicates the automatic tail Hiccup once gave him for Snoggletog. Toohless prances around excitedly while Hiccup tries to attach the tail fin. He closes the last straps and stepps a few metres away. "What do you think bud?"

Toothless growls happily and licks his human friend over his face. Hiccup laughes and complaines at the same time but Toothless doesn't bother. He turns around and runs into the woods, into his freedom. But at the end of the clearing he stopps and turns around. He lets him go. Hiccup lets him go. The dragon throws a questioning look at his friend. But Hiccups just smiles. "It's okay", he says approvingly.

It is time. It is time to leave. Toothless knows it is right, but on the other hand he doesn't want to leave his human friend. His best friend. The closest friend he ever had. How many adventures did they had! They all hold a special place in Toothless' heart. They always will. His eyes wander over to his human. Hiccup smiles but in his eyes shimmer tears.

"Alright bud. Its time.", he says. His smile shakes.

"You looked after us for long enough. Time to look after yourselves."

Toothless wants to cry but dragons can't cry. He is so grateful for all those years. Grateful that Hiccup shot him from the sky. Yes, even grateful that he lost his tail fin. Because if he hadn't, they woul've never became friends.

The dragon wants to show Hiccup all those thoughts. Wants to show him how much he means to him. How much he loves him. So he does what humans do to express their love. He rises up and puts his forelegs around Hiccup's shoulders. Hugs him tightly. He can feel Hiccup's small body unter him shudder.

"Go Toothless. Go", the boy whispers.

Toothless lets him go. Hiccup puts his hand onto his snout and closes his eyes. It immediately catapultes Toothless back to their early times when they just became friends. And for a second, it feels like no time has passed. His best friend lets his hand fall and he smiles. Then Toothless lets out a roar and the dragons rise up into the air.

He looks at Hiccup one last time. Then the nighr fury opens his wings and follows the other dragons into the sunset colored sky.

Something disturbs their peace. She had smelled the foreign scent and woke Toothless from his nap. He reaches his nose into the air and his instincts sharpen. He smells humans!

With a small growl, he tells his family to stay hid behind him. Toothless crawles onto the edge of the rock on which they had camped. Though the mist mandifests a viking boat. The night fury rises his wings and moves into attack position. With a powerful jump, he closes the distance and lands on the deck of the boat. Four humans stare at him. A blonde woman holds two children close to her. And in front of them stands a man with brown hair and a beard. Toothless growls. But then, the man reaches out a hand. Irritated, Toothless hesitates and sniffs.

A familiar scent rushes through his body. And suddelny, thousand memories flood his mind. Memories from his past. From a boy with his dragon friend. A boy that wanted to kill a dragon but befriended it instead. Their first flight. The Alpha. Berk. Dragon's Edge. Snoggletog. Dragon races. And vikings.

And the remembers that boy. Skinny, with brown hair and freckles. And suddenly he realises. The man in front of him is an older version of that boy with freckles. It is him. He came back! Hiccup came back. They are together again. Just like old times.

[surprise-based-teddy-bear]

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Astarion/Tav Additional Tags: POV Astarion, canon adjacent, Manipulation, Trust Issues, PTSD, Trauma, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, of all kinds, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Vampire Bites, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, figuring out feelings, Slow(ish) Burn, Eventual Romance, Occasional Sexual Content, most of it warped by past trauma, Astarion Being Astarion, Soft Astarion (eventually), everyone is bad at feelings, Everyone Needs A Hug

A snippet for your previewing pleasure:

Neline approached a large hole in the thick stone wall, perhaps drawn there by the strange slapping sound that emanated from within. As they entered a dimly-lit chamber that reeked of stale blood, the source of noise became clear: a human man kneeled by the opposite wall and flagellated himself with a knotted rope. His outfit made of leather straps and jagged, blackened metal left his back fully exposed to his strikes. A myriad bruises and cuts littered every inch of bare skin. "This place is just crawling with pious weirdos, isn't it?" Astarion muttered under his breath, too quiet for human ears, but loud enough that Neline would hear. She didn't respond. Instead she wandered farther into the room and picked up a book on a table. The fanatic must have heard them, for he set down the rope and got up to greet them. His eyes lit up when he noticed the book in Neline's hands. "Greetings, child," he said to her. "I've seen few aside from goblins here. I am Abdirak." His face was even more battered than his back. Several scars, both fresh and old, marred an otherwise handsome face. "I assume you were beating yourself for a reason?" Neline asked. "Why, of course. Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?" She let her gaze wander across the wicked-looking tools and weapons on display around the room and arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I should agree to anything in a place like this." The man smiled. "I realize this must look strange to you, but I assure you, it is a most intimate form of worship. You see, pain can be such a loving thing. But explaining that to these goblins has proven… difficult." He spoke in a soft, husky voice that promised both seduction and danger. It sent a tingle down Astarion's neck. As Abdirak gazed at Neline's face, his expression shifted to one of sympathy. "Forgive me, but that look in your eyes… Something terrible has happened to you." She went very still. "I don't see how that's any of your concern." "Do not be ashamed, child," he said with gentle compassion. "What I see in your eyes, in your soul, is only natural. We've all suffered in these dark times. It is little wonder you bear scars of pain and anguish." He smiled. "Please, let me alleviate this pain." The suggestion jolted through Astarion and made his mouth go dry. Neline studied Abdirak's face, then let her gaze wander down to the blemishes on his exposed torso. Her expression was unreadable. "And how would you do that?" "As the Maiden of Pain, the Goddess Loviatar teaches us… Through penance, administered by my skilled hand."

[laventadorn]

rough draft of two nje ch 15 scenes

so rough you could exfoliate with them! feel them strip the dead cells right off and leave your skin glowing and healthy*

*results not guaranteed

i've had an ass-kicking cold for the past four days; as in, it's kicking my ass. while i wait to breathe normally again, have some... more draco pov? idk why it's so easy and fun to write him -- maybe because i'm not emotionally invested in him and he's kind of a wet rag.

Harriet leaned over the bar, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“You did not tell me,” she said in a low voice, “that it was this many people.”

“Well, I – didn’t know they were going to be this. Numerous,” Hermione said (squeakily). 

“They must’ve told their friends,” Ron muttered. “I swear we were just talking to prefects in our year–”

Asteria patted Harriet on the back. Her hand might’ve been shaking a little (or a lot). Harriet didn’t blame her one bit – instead of a few prefects, all the Gryffindors in their year had turned up – Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and her sister Padma with her; Ginny and the other girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Fred and George; that Luna girl from the train; a handful of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from their year who Harriet only knew in the most general way from sitting classes with them for five years; and, most surprisingly, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. At the sight of this many people trooping in to discuss her teaching them defense spells, Harriet had considered faking poisoning to get out of it – surely in the Hog’s Head it would be believable that she could’ve accidentally picked something up, even if it was just a long-term growth on her butterbeer bottle. 

In the end, the most she’d done was woodenly excuse herself and hunker down at the corner of the bar. Hermione, Ron, and Asteria, who’d been sitting in increasingly loud silence as the number of attendees grew, had scurried after her.

“Should we make a break for it?” Ron asked in a low voice. “I see a door behind the bar there. Probably leads to the yard.”

Harriet took off her glasses to scrub her hands over her face. Then she hooked the ends back over her ears with a sigh. “No . . . we’re already here. Anyway I’ve made more of a prat of myself in front of a bigger number of people.”

“You won’t make a. Prat of yourself,” said Hermione firmly. Asteria nodded vigorously, though she looked about to faint.

The barman gave a soft snort, like he didn’t agree. He seemed sort of familiar, but Harriet couldn’t place him. He was rubbing a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag, and she got the sense the only reason he hadn’t told them to bugger off was a disinclination for speaking to customers. 

“How can you say that, after knowing me all these years?” said Harriet to Hermione; she patted Asteria on the arm. “I make a prat of myself hourly. All right, let’s get this over with.”

Fred and George were handing out dusty bottles of butterbeer to the five-times-larger-than-Harriet-would’ve-preferred group that had overtaken a couple of tables to one side of the taproom. As she approached, all eyes pinned on her, and she almost made a break for the back door after all. She realized it was one thing to make a prat of herself spontaneously and quite another to get up in front of a bunch of people prepared to make a prat of herself. 

“Er,” she said. 

#

Draco breathed the open air in Hogsmeade. The best thing about it was that it was currently Pansy-free. 

Actually, he’d been having some good Pansy-free time lately. She was so fired up with this Inquisitors business, she’d stopped resembling a human-shaped growth on his arm. Prefects had to follow certain guidelines, but Umbridge’s Inquisitors had more leeway to properly abuse power. Draco hadn’t really known Pansy would have the initiative, but she’d proven quite good at conjuring up random infractions to inflict on people; other Houses were leaking points in small but significant totals. He was sort of impressed, but if she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up with a head full of leeks when somebody snapped and hexed her. 

He’d also seen her scheming a lot with Daphne, probably to get back at Potter. He’d heard Tracey warning Daphne off – “You don’t want Potter as an enemy, don’t you remember?” – but he hadn’t said anything to Pansy. Aside from the fact that she wouldn’t listen, it wasn’t his business to make her smart about it. Besides, if she was busy crafting Potter voodoo dolls in dark corners, she wasn’t clinging on to him. 

Yes, he had a lot of time to himself lately. It was . . . rather quiet. 

Really, he wasn’t sure he liked it. His mind tended to go places that were dark and full of shadows. 

And yet talking to people was so much work these days. They hadn’t been – where he’d been.

(Wasn’t it pathetic? He was fine now. Why should he still struggle to fall asleep in the dark because it was dark?)

He was drifting down a side street when he saw something peculiar: Asteria and Potter meeting up with – Granger and the Weasel. 

He edged behind a street lamp, but he was far enough away that they didn’t spot him. But he couldn’t be too careful: Gryffindors might be oblivious as a fence-post, but Asteria had been better taught in Slytherin. And he’d noticed her tall form and fair hair. 

Asteria was hanging back a little behind Potter, who seemed to be making introductions, if the way Granger was smiling and Weasley giving a cringingly awkward wave was any indication. Asteria sort of twitched at them. Well, she could be cringingly awkward too, even if she was enormously good-looking and of much better breeding than the Weasel.  

They didn’t linger long after these first hellos, but headed off down the street. Potter still kept herself between Asteria and the others, as if providing a shield. 

Still edged behind the street-lamp, Draco reached up and touched the brooch he always wore on his lapel since his mother had given it to him - a Black family heirloom that activated a concealment spell with the right trigger. A quick check in a dusty shop window showed a nondescript wizard, not suspiciously plain, but unremarkable, standing in his place. 

Off he went after them. They stopped one street over and, after a brief pause in which Potter traded looks with her cronies, headed into a dingy building that Draco recognized from his third year, but had never ventured near since. 

The Hog’s Head? 

He almost turned to make a very dignified exit in a very opposite direction . . . but he reminded himself that the barman wouldn’t recognize him like this; his mother did not pass on useless trinkets. And besides, if Potter and cronies were about to get tossed out on their ears, he wanted to see.

The bar was the same as he remembered: filthy, low-class, poorly lit. The same candles stuck to the dirt-encrusted tables in their own wax; the same bay windows that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the goblin rebellion of 1612; the same floor you couldn’t see for all the grime and sawdust. The same bartender. . . 

You are not Draco Malfoy; you are a gormless nobody named Deacon Pines. 

He took a seat at the bar. The barman glanced at him with a sardonic gleam in his eye.

“Firewhiskey sour,” said Draco, with an accent that made him sound like Potter. 

The barman stared at him a moment longer with a gimlet eye, but made the drink and shoved it over. Draco held a single sip in his mouth, trying not to cringe. How his father could drink these. . .

Potter was sitting in a corner, easily visible from his seat at the bar, talking in low tones with Granger and the Weasel. Asteria sat at her side, content to be ignored, but looking round the room. He had actually never had call to observe her this closely or at leisure: she almost always faded from notice, and she seldom spent time in places around loads of other people. But shielded from notice beside Potter, she didn’t seem as jittery as usual. 

Then her eyes widened. Draco couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, and almost spat out his mouthful of whiskey.

A whole troop of people were marching across the threshold. The barman even dropped his scowl of suspicion to gape at the amount of Hogwarts students now cluttering up his taproom. Draco hunkered down at his spot at the bar – he wasn’t Asteria, shaken up by somebody looking in his mere direction, but he didn’t fancy being noticed by this crowd of Slytherin-haters when he was alone and unallied.

He glanced up; Potter had come to the other end of the bar, and was leaning over it like she wanted to brain herself on the edge. Asteria was patting her on the back. Granger and Weasley seemed to be attempting some pep talk. 

Draco suddenly had a vision of himself having a minor wig-out in the corner, and Crabbe and Goyle trying to offer advice while Pansy rubbed his shoulders. He almost swallowed a burning mouthful of his rancid drink. As if Crabbe and Goyle would care enough to think of something to say – or be able to, even if they did. As if Pansy would be able to get over herself long enough to be soothing. 

He couldn’t hear the conversation, but after a moment Potter straightened up, face resigned, and turned back to the slack-brained crowd. What was she nervous about? 

“Er,” she said eloquently. 

All right, so maybe she was nervous because she had the public speaking skills of a puffskein. 

She darted a look at Granger, who moved up next to her. 

“Thank you for. Coming,” said Granger in that stop-start way she had these days. “Well, we – put together this meeting for – people with concerns and – questions about. . . some recent things.” She swallowed; Potter, arms folded, shifted her stance a bit so that her shoulder was touching Granger’s. Granger’s chin came up a little. 

“And because we need to learn Defense and certainly there’s no – proper teacher this year – ”

“Hear, hear!” said one of the heinous Weasley twins. A titter went through the group. 

“I take it you’re worried about passing your O.W.L.s too?” asked one of the Ravenclaw swots. Behind Granger and Potter, Weasley rolled his eyes. Draco would never agree with the Weasel, who was barely literate, but Merlin’s beard, did Ravenclaws ever shut up about grades?

Granger was answering that question when a blond Hufflepuff from their Quidditch team – Zanius or something – interrupted her with a nasally voice:

“I have a question.”

Potter raised her eyebrows at his tone, but said, “Yeah?”

“Why’d you bring her here?” He pointed behind her – at Asteria, who went bright red. “Everyone’s seen you palling around with a Slytherin, but to just waltz in here together – how do you know she’s not a spy for that Umbridge?”

Asteria shrunk in on herself. Weasley scowled at that wart Zanius, but everyone else held their breath, as if waiting to see how Potter would handle this. They’d surely been wondering the same thing.

“Asteria is my friend,” said Potter coldly, but the look in her eye blazed, even in the smoke-stained light. “If you don’t trust your friends, that’s not my problem – nor is who I choose to be friends with any of your business. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

Asteria looked up at her, and if those weren’t stars in her eyes, Draco wasn’t a Malfoy. Zanius’ mouth hung open a little, before he turned a dull read.

“It was just a question,” he muttered. 

“Right,” said Potter, with sarcasm so good a Slytherin wouldn’t have been ashamed to use it. “Glad to answer it for you.

“So,” she continued into the weighted silence. Her nerves appeared to have been tempered in the fire of Gryffindor righteousness; she no longer looked like she wanted to leap over the tables and run out the door. “If anyone has any real questions – ones about blokes called Voldemort, or anything you actually came here for – now’s the time.”

The Weasley twins traded raised eyebrows. Several people looked impressed, a couple like it was their turn to want to scurry out the door. Draco certainly wouldn’t want Potter looking at him with that eye – it reminded him more than a little of the barkeep’s when he’d nabbed a third-year Draco asking for firewhiskey, or McGonagall’s when she found Crabbe doing unspeakable things to a mouse in class. 

“Is You-Know-Who the one who hurt Hermione Granger?” asked a sweet, soft voice – Draco thought her name was Loony Lovegood. Pansy made fun of her sometimes. Pansy said she was a nutter; Draco thought dotty. Her earrings looked like orange radishes, making her an even worse dresser than Potter.

Potter looked at Loony in silence for a moment, that militant light dimmed. Granger put her hand on Potter’s arm. 

“Yes,” she said simply. “Harriet saved my life.”

Murmurs shifted through the crowd like wind through the treetops. Draco looked down into his disgusting drink. 

What would that be like… murmured a voice in his mind. 

What, being captured by the Dark Lord? Granger’s a Mudblood, and she was only taken because she’s Potter’s best friend, so she made the best bait. Your family is loyal. . . you’ll be safe.

But Potter had gone to rescue her – somehow . . . and had gotten her out. 

What would it be like. . . to have a friend like that?

[skylerchasesbooks]

Hello! any advice for show don't tell writing?

Hi! Sure, my pleasure!

Honestly, show don't tell is something I feel even I struggle with and I'm pretty sure anyone who writes faces it. Finding a balance is hard. When to show and when to tell can become an inherent feeling though. However, there are some things I've learnt and I hope they help you!

❥︎Describe body language and avoid emotional explanation when showing.

❥︎Emphasise Sensory Detailing: Not only does packing a scene with sensory details help readers imagine the setting, it also gives your characters a distinct physical world to interact with. Rather than simply saying that a character is in New York, describe the light reflecting off the Hudson River, or the towering colossus of the Statue of Liberty.

❥︎Like I said, focus on describing senses and lean more on the usage of imagery too, it'll help if you understand that literary device. I have a post on how to use imagery in writing which helps a lot when showing and not telling.

❥︎ learn from examples of 'Show, Don't tell' by reading. The most basic.

❥︎ Use of Dialogue: can also teach readers about characters through word choice, tone, and POV. For instance:

If a character speaks in long-winded, erudite sentences, readers might gather that they are pompous and well-educated. If this same character suddenly begins speaking in terse, short bursts later in the novel, readers might note that something in that character has shifted.

❥︎Make your character do something out of ordinary, something that breaks the routine or would make a heavier impact. For eg:

If they're described as someone who never cooks say and then at some time they cook for the live interest, it'll pique the reader’s Interest because it was uncharacteristic of them to do.

❥︎ Pick adjectives that you use to describe and replace them with sensory descriptions. Eg:

He was scared when he saw the lion at the exit.

•°•°•

His heart raced when he saw the lion looming at the end of his escape route.

See what I did here?

❥︎ When introducing characters, use descriptions and actions to show their personality instead of telling. Eg instead of inserting a line saying 'She was a kind person.' Or, 'She was easily offended and angered.' We incorporate a scene in the story like this:

The tray flipped and drenched her in wine but all she did was sigh and smile in understanding.

Now look at this one:

The tray flipped and drenched her in wine. She shrieked and jumped out of her seat, glaring at the waiter.

Did you feel the difference? The scene is the same but the character's approach was different in each case. The former seems kind while the latter seems to be a temperamental character.

❥︎Having a diverse vocabulary, imagination and the ability to use literary devices like metaphors will greatly aid in Show don't tell.

❥︎And lastly, It's fine if you don't get it right the first time because that's how writing works. The more you read, attempt and err, the more you learn. But having an idea of what to do will go a great way in guiding and saving time.

Hope that helps! Thank you for seeking my advice <3

[stem-and-chill]

 Village Of Shadows & Yearning For Dark Shadows

– A Closer Look

At the end of the game, it is clear that the folktale story “Village of Shadows” told in the very beginning was about Mother Miranda and the Four Lords all along. Even though the characters in the folktale are different in appearance and behaviour, the key features of the legend stay the same.

The girl in the folktale is presumed to be Rose, the four monsters she encounters represent the Four Lords and the Witch is supposed to be Mother Miranda. The mirror in which the girl has been trapped in by the Witch could represent the four flasks Rose’s body has been sealed in.

This gets confirmed by the revealing of the folktale’s ending, where the father shows up to fight the Witch and sacrifices his life to save his daughter. The concept artwork also confirms that the family in the folktale is based on the Winters family:

However, there are certain things happening in the folktale that are incompatible with the actual role Rose has in the game’s story.

Rose and Ethan:

The problem is that Rose has a completely passive role in the story, since she is a baby and defenseless. She can’t think for herself and is in need of protection, she is the one that needs to be saved.

But the girl in the folktale is an active character who decides her actions. This is more similar to the active role of Ethan in the game’s story. Ethan meets and fights the Four Lords, in the same order as the girl meets the monsters in the folktale:

1. The Bat Lord = Alcina Dimitrescu

2. The Dark Weaver = Donna Beneviento

3. The Fish King = Salvatore Moreau

4. The Iron Steed = Karl Heisenberg

In the folktale, the Bat Lord, the Dark Weaver and the Fish King all willingly give gifts to the girl, in order to save her or to help her endure her harsh environment. The Iron Steed though, is the only one that does not give a gift to her.

Instead, the girl apparently has become greedy and starts to take things for granted. She takes something from the Iron Steed what she thought was supposed to be another gift for her. This action in turn angers the Iron Steed:

Then an Iron Steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear.

The creature said nothing as the girl approached

and snatched what she thought was another gift.

The horse grew angry and summoned the other monsters.

  This is also testified by the Witch saying to the girl:

“Gifts we gave, but more you took,” she snarled. “So more, in turn, is due.”

  The narrator of the folktale and the Witch claim that the girl has become greedy. In the credit song “Yearning for Dark Shadows”, which is told from the girl’s POV, she confirms this:

Warm and full, I approached an Iron Steed adorned with gold,

and I grabbed what I thought was mine.

Mine, Mine, Mine!

  The repercussion and punishment of the girl’s actions and greediness is to be trapped inside a mirror. This could be taken as a classical lesson that folktales sometimes try to teach children: Do not stray away from your parents. Do not trust strangers. Do not assume that everyone you meet will give you something for free.

Assuming that the active role of the girl represents Ethan, then his interactions with the Lords is in contrast to girl’s interactions with the monsters. The first three Lords did not give Ethan a gift (Rose Jar) willingly, like their counterparts in the folktale do. The only one who gives Ethan a Rose Jar back willingly is Heisenberg (even though not without further work), whose counterpart in the folktale was the only one to not give a gift.

The gift giving of the Lords is reversed in the game’s story. The same goes for their behaviour, as their folktale counterparts seem to be worried about the girl’s condition, while in the actual story neither of them cares about Ethan or Rose.

The girl in the folktale represents on one hand the passive role of Rose’s situation in the game (getting trapped by the Witch in the mirror = getting trapped by Mother Miranda in jars). But on the other hand the girl also represents the active role of Ethan throughout the game’s story (meeting and fighting the Four Lords Lords in the same order; the reversed gift giving situation).

At the end of the folktale, Ethan’s active role of the girl is now given to the father’s role, who shows up to fight the Witch and sacrifices himself:

- But the Witch was strong and Father yelled, “Save our daughter!”

- Even now, the burnt forest is a grim reminder of Father’s sacrifice.

  Rose fully takes now over the role of the girl, who has been freed from the mirror (jars). This also means that the active role her father had before is now passed on to her. This is confirmed by the last sentence appearing:

- The father’s story is now done.

  In the “Yearning for Dark Shadows” song, new lines are added to the folktale story and to the POV of the girl:

Hello, my tears, because of you, I am who I am.

Hello, sorrow, because of you, I am who I am.

Long, long, ago I did not know who I was.

And in the deepness, I was lost and now...

These lines are fitting for both Rose and Ethan. The girl talks about her journey seen through her own eyes, which could allude to Ethan talking about how he met and fought the Four Lords. The lines of the chorus specifically could be an expression of his emotions, the moment he found out about his true nature (having died and turned into a Molded).

Because Miranda’s discovery of the Megamycete, her studies and experiments in the village are ultimately the source for everything that happened to Ethan during the Baker Family Incident and the reason why he is no longer a normal human.

From Rose’s POV the lines could allude to her feelings about her father and also about the troubles of her own origins, as it is shown in the post-credit scene.

  The gifts of the Four Lords:

However, there is an interesting note to make on the gift giving situation of the four monsters in the folktale. It is a big focus there and the turning point of the folktale’s story. The Iron Steed stands out compared to its companions, because it does not give a gift to the girl and is the one to cause her entrapment.

The same goes for Heisenberg’s role in the game’s story. Like the Iron Steed, his role in the game stands out from the other Lords, because he is the only one of them who reaches out to Ethan and honestly wants to team up with him. His backstory and motives are also different to them, since he is the only one to have seen through Miranda’s manipulation and schemes, and wants to be freed of her.

The other Lords are loyal to Miranda, fully believe in her and take actions to get her approval and love. Some time ago, Miranda approached the Four Lords, took them in as their children and infected them with the Cadou. This action is seen by Alcina, Donna and Moreau as a form of gift or recognition.

Alcina believes that she must be Miranda’s favourite child due to her generousness:

“She gave me this castle, obedient daughters, everlasting life, did she not?

Am I not her favorite? Am I not special?” - Alcina Dimitrescu’s Diary

  Donna is happy to be able to make her doll come to life, thanks to the Cadou infection and is excited about the effects of the flowers, that she probably received from Miranda first:

“Mistress Donna seems happy. It might be my imagination, but I feel like her doll Angie is even more lively than before. [...] We had a mighty fine conversation.

Something about receiving a gift of power from Mother? [...] I mentioned this to Donna and she seemed thrilled by it.” - Gardener’s Diary

  Moreau still utterly believes in Miranda and seems to see her as his actual mother. Even though he is ashamed of his mutated appearance, for which she is the source of, and despite himself noting that Miranda seems to not really care about him. But the thought of her abandoning him still frightens him:

“But if Mother does then... what will happen to me?

I'm not her real child... Would she abandon me?

No! I don't want that!” - Moreau’s Diary

  The only one who does not see his powers as a gift is Heisenberg:

“We’re merely a bunch of failed Cadou experiments to her. [...]

What a joke. I’ll never forgive her for what she did to me. [...]

Miranda just didn’t change my body, she took my dignity.” - Heisenberg’s Diary

  The four monsters in the folktale, who give a gift to the girl could be a representation of Mother Miranda, handing over the Cadou to the Four Lords and with that their future powers. Each Lord’s unique power is already depicted in the form of the folktale monster. The girl in that moment, could be a stand-in of each one of the Lords, thankfully accepting the gift:

- “So, she clothed herself and smiled with joy.”

- “So, the girl ate and smiled with joy once more.”

Village of Shadows:

Then the Bat Lord appeared! He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing.

“Come, child. Quench your thirst,” he said.

So, she drank the thick, dark blood and smiled with joy.

  Yearning for Dark Shadows:

Within the darkness, cold and silent,

A voice called out to me:

“Hello, lost child, come quench your thirst and drink this pint, to bring you joy”.

  It’s interesting that the Bat Lord exactly suggests what Alcina has to do, in order to control her mutation and due to her blood disease. She needs to drink blood; the girl in the folktale does the same:

The girl also gets called “child” by the monsters, which is what Mother Miranda calls the Four Lords.

  Again, the part that stands out is the role of the Iron Steed aka Heisenberg:

Village of Shadows:

Then an Iron Steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear.

The creature said nothing as the girl approached,

and snatched what she thought was another gift.

The horse grew angry and summoned the other monsters.

  Yearning for Dark Shadows:

Warm and full, I approached an Iron Steed adorned with gold,

and I grabbed what I thought was mine.

Mine, Mine, Mine!

As explained above, the girl has gotten greedy and now assumes something that was not yet given to her, which marks the first step into her entrapment. The growing greediness of the girl could be an allusion to Mother Miranda herself. Just like the girl, she has become greedier and more selfish over time.

In her pursuit, she took in Heisenberg as another one of her children and experimented on him. His anger and hate for her stem from this trauma and is the origin of his antagonizing side towards her. Just as the girl took something from the Iron Steed without asking, and how its anger towards her is the result of her action.

The line about the Iron Steed summoning the other monsters may be interpreted as a hint to Heisenberg’s Soldats that he creates in his factory to fight against Miranda’s lycans.

Ultimately, everything leads to Miranda still not stopping there, but taking away yet another child (Rose), tearing her body apart and sealing her in jars. She abandons an entire village that was dedicated to her, and people who were loyal to her, only to get what she is truly after. She also calls Rose “her daughter” throughout the game, and even at the end she believes that Rose is Eva Reborn.

  Conclusion:

The girl and the monsters of the folktale may represent more than just one side of the story. Or they can be a metaphor for more than just one character.

Everyone’s side of the story in the game is assembled in the characters of the folktale. Together they all represent the themes of “family” and “greed”.

I am most certainly overanalyzing things, as I do not believe myself that this much thought was put into the folktale story or the song lyrics.

But who knows...

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 1)

A/N: This is the first Volturi- and Twilight-related story I ever started writing and it is quite long and elaborated/complex, as I tend to overanalyze in many parts. I have wrote a few parts until now and I'll be uploading them in the future. I have been quite emotional throughout writing it, trying to understand the reader's point of view.

A/N 2: I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense. English is not my first language. I also include Italian through the story, with translation, but I'm not a native or a speaker, so I'd like to apologize in advance to those who speak Italian. Enjoy :)

A/N 3: According to "The Amagi" on Youtube, Felix was born in 250 BC (their thumbnail), so I used that in my story.

No of Words: about 5347

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My heart felt heavy. I may have just escaped the cruelest vampire of all, but I also ran away from the love of my life, my mate, the only person who could fully understand me in this world. I asked him to run away with me, but, although our bond was strong, he felt obliged to stay loyal to his master, his creator. I drove as fast as I could, away from the sunny Volterra, and away from him.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) grew up quite privileged, in Vampire terms. Being born into the Volturi coven was something many vampires could only dream about. (Y/N) was abandoned by her parents when she was a baby, but Aro, one of the three Volturi leaders, took her under his protection, and offered her more things than she could ever have imagined. After all, she was his only biological granddaughter, the “Volturi princess”, an heiress to the throne; her mother lost that “privilege” when she met and fell in love with a wizard.

(Y/N)’s mother soon got pregnant with her, and then later turned her husband into a vampire to help her with her pregnancy, and stay together forever. However, (Y/N)’s parents couldn’t raise her because they wanted to run free and careless, not commit to anything permanent, so Aro took over and raised his granddaughter with the highest honors and privileges, “as a princess should be raised”.

(Y/N) was a mix of Vampire, Witch and Human, due to the grandmother, Sulpicia, being human when Aro found her; Sulpicia later fell pregnant with (Y/N)’s mother, and Aro transformed her to vampire, as he had planned all along. Aro raised (Y/N) according to his own rules and morals, teaching her how to kill humans to feed from, how to attack and slip away from her opponents, how to lead other vampires, and most importantly, how to keep her identity and existence a secret, not only to humans, but other non-Volturi vampires as well. No one could know that there was a possibility of a vampire having a child with a human, and that the child could be effectively controlled and raised as a regular vampire.

As (Y/N) grew older and older, reaching the human age of 25 within 7 years of her birth, Aro would spend more and more time with her, examining and studying her possibilities and her potential powers’ development. (Y/N) grew up to be extremely strong and fast, an excellent tracker with great intelligence and understanding of the world around her. However, Aro could not risk sending her to “Volturi duties”. She was his hope for a stronger coven; with (Y/N) in the throne, Aro felt like he could conquer the vampire world with ease.

That’s why he was always searching for the best guards he could find, to protect the coven and do his work instead of himself, Caius, or (Y/N). He couldn’t rely on Marcus, as he proved to be too emotional since Didyme died, but was still valuable for his plan. Caius, on the other hand, although powerless, was far more sadistic and “diligent” in following vampire rules, and (Y/N)... (Y/N) was just too obedient, following every order Aro gave her - a strong asset for the Volturi.

Aro was changing guards and trackers quite easily, disposing them when they were no longer needed or when he found better ones. He needed talented and strong vampires to serve the coven and do their work.

Chelsea was the very first vampire Aro created solely to serve the Volturi, after recognizing her potential when she was human. Chelsea’s gift of relationship manipulation was truly useful in bringing new vampires into the coven and was used thousands of times during Volturi's reign. It could also easily dispose of them, making their bonds with other vampires break at will; those vampires were isolated by the other vampires and then killed - Aro couldn’t risk letting them get away knowing the Volturi’s secrets and life.

About 100 years later, Corin joined the Volturi, just a couple decades after (Y/N)’s birth. Corin’s gift of addictive contentment was the one which kept Marcus in the Volturi after Didyme’s death - along with Chelsea’s to make him committed to Aro’s greater plans, and was also used on Sulpicia, Athenadora and any other vampire in the Volturi guard to keep them satisfied being in the Volturi. Under Aro’s instructions, Corin was keeping Chelsea content with being in the Volturi, and Chelsea was keeping Corin loyal to them, each of them using their gifts against each other, without their knowledge.

Sometime between 230 and 220 BC, while travelling in Rome, searching for additional vampires to add to the coven, Aro supposedly met a young, strong and ambitious fighter, who wished to become a gladiator one day, named Felix. Felix did not only look, but also was physically capable of fighting even with beasts, during his short time as a fighter, way before the Colosseum was built. Born into a poor family, his strength was his only way of making money, and becoming a gladiator was his only way out of poverty, a way to provide for both his family and himself.

When his family was almost imprisoned by Roman army officers for outstanding debts, Felix was forced to make a deal with them to fight, in whatever they ordered him to. Fighting turned out to be the only way for Felix to deal with his emotions and rage towards people in power. When Aro approached Felix, he was promised a good life, where he wouldn’t have to worry about surviving another day. Felix did not seem willing enough, not being fond of the idea of serving people in power, who he so despised.

Luckily for Aro, Chelsea was the one who “convinced” Felix to join the Volturi guard, with Aro changing him afterwards. Unlike previous guards, Felix showed impeccable strength, speed and talent towards both dodging and initiating attacks, eventually making him a permanent member in the Volturi Guard, along with Chelsea and Corin.

Felix was assigned as the leading guard for the three kings’ protection, this role extending to the protection of their two wives and (Y/N); though Aro knew that, if it came to anyone attacking his granddaughter, she would be able to handle it by herself. However, he still wanted to make sure that she was safe and that Aro would do anything to protect her.

For about a couple millennias, (Y/N) was content with her situation, being the “Volturi princess” and all that. Besides, having Felix in the Volturi was another reason to stay in the coven, apart from staying loyal and true to Aro for taking her in, when she was abandoned.

Every time Felix looked into her eyes, she felt her whole body burn - though, it wasn’t a feeling of suffering, rather a feeling of longing, waiting for something to happen so badly that her body couldn’t control itself. Although she was partially a vampire, (Y/N) would feel like she couldn’t breathe, like her legs were ready to give up on her, like she wanted to grab Felix and never let go.

Felix, although not admitting it even to himself, would feel the same way, but he knew that his position would not allow him to approach (Y/N) in such a way. He was just a guard - although he was the strongest of them all, and she was the Volturi princess, one of his masters, whom he was only allowed to approach in order to protect. He didn’t want Aro to know he saw his granddaughter like that; it could cost him his position in the guard, or even his life. So, he kept these feelings deep within him, not allowing them to resurface, or act upon them.

However, every time these two existed at the same place, the invisible sparks between them would fly left and right. And only one vampire was able to see them. One who hadn’t felt these sparks in centuries.

--------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N)’s POV:

I yawned loudly as I woke from a long, much needed sleep. I was the only vampire around who was able to sleep, mostly due to my non-vampire natures. I didn't really need to sleep on a regular basis, but when I did, I could literally sleep 3 days straight and nobody would be able to wake me up. “For my own protection”, as Aro said, I would always have at least two guards outside of my room’s door, in case anything happened while I was sleeping. Like what could even happen? My room was at the furthest side of this huge castle. I’m pretty sure that if there ever was an attack against the Volturi, it would most probably have been dealt with immediately, and the attacker wouldn’t make it anywhere near my room.

I felt the warm sun on my skin, slightly glowing and sparkling beautifully. My eyes, mostly (Y/E/C) with a golden ring around the pupil, could easily adjust to the light. Unlike the other vampires, I could easily live among humans; I could sleep, eat human food, my skin not being as sparkly as others, and I could control my thirst far better than others.

Since Jane and Alec joined the coven, Aro would show an immense interest in them and their skills, helping them train daily and develop their powers further, eventually forgetting about me. I would spend more and more days away from the castle, “protected” by my anonymity, getting to know humans more and more. The longer I was observing them, the more they would trigger my interest in them. They could feel true emotions, real pain, real hurt, real love. They had their families, they received an unconditional love that I could never have.

Unbeknownst to Aro or anyone else for that matter, I have started developing new powers, similar to the other vampires in the Volturi coven or anyone else outside of it. I have also started noticing that I may have an immunity towards others’ talents, feeling that neither Corin’s addictive contentment made me satisfied with being in the Volturi, nor Chelsea’s relationship manipulation could keep me loyal to Aro anymore. If it weren’t for Felix, or Demetri and the Twins, who have all become my best friends by now, I would have probably left.

A vampire named Carlisle Cullen had visited the Volturi and stayed with us for a while, about 100 years ago. He saw the way the Volturi treated humans like they were nothing, and how they were as cruel as to kill other vampires, with the excuse that they were exposing our kind with the way they lived. Entire covens had been wiped out due to such excuses, a way to eliminate potential enemies from becoming too powerful and find as many talented vampires as possible and force them to join the Volturi.

Carlisle was talking about a new way of life, where vampires wouldn’t have to kill humans to survive, a life where vampires and humans could live in peace, without harming each other. He was insisting that vampires could survive on animal blood just as efficiently as with human blood; that animal blood would not make them weaker, and that it would be a much more ethical and sustainable way to feed.

Of course, Aro and Caius were the first ones to mock his proposition, clearly not caring about humans’ feelings and pain. Marcus did not budge at all, his heartache making him indifferent to anything around him. But I was growing more and more interested in this alternative way of life; I was, after all, feeding on human food already, so that I was feeding on human blood as little as I could.

It was a few years after Carlisle left Volterra that Eleazar joined the Volturi. Aro forced him to join after finding out he could detect if someone had any special ability. Aro considered his gift useful in identifying if any of his enemies had any special power when in battles, or when he sent Eleazar around the world to recruit talented vampires.

Eleazar was clearly not liking the way the Volturi forced their ways and wants on others, and how they could take advantage of others for their own benefit. I could just sense that he was displeased and was forcing himself to stay in the coven, one, due to Corin’s and Chelsea’s gifts, and two, out of fear of what could happen to him and his mate, Carmen.

Carmen, a vampire from Spain, like Eleazar, met with Eleazar while he was a guard here, they fell in love, and eventually, Eleazar decided to leave the Volturi and run away with Carmen. Aro decided that he did not care about him and his gift as much as others’, so he let him go unharmed, “blessing” them for safe travels.

Just a few days before he left, I consulted him on my own powers. Though a lower member of the guard, Eleazar had his own room, a decent place to stay, and spend his endless hours in. I knocked slightly on the door.

“Come in”, a calm voice was heard. I opened the door and came into his room. Carmen was sitting on the edge of their bed and Eleazar was reading a book on his desk. They both smiled sweetly. I just felt and knew they were too nice to fit anywhere in here, among the cruel and strict Volturi.

“(Y/N)! So nice to see you!”Carmen exclaimed and stood to hug me. The second we hugged I started seeing parts of her life in Spain, the calm waters of Catalunya, the vast vineyards where she would spend the early years of her life… I quickly detached myself from her embrace. I just couldn’t invade her privacy like that. She and Eleazar both looked at me worried, as if I had offended them.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t let you “show” me your whole life like that!” I looked at Carmen apologetically.

“(Y/N), you saw Carmen’s life?” Eleazar continued, intrigued by my words.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. I..I feel like I’ve been developing a gift, or a few gifts, to be completely honest. And I feel like.. like I have a specific power one day, and another power the next!” I stated frantically.

It was the first time I have openly talked about my powers to anyone, and I was shaking just by the words that came out of my mouth. Eleazar did not say anything, he just stood there for a few minutes, I supposed “examining” me, as if a doctor checking on a patient.

“Remarkable.” He said calmly. He looked at his mate with excitement, as if he just discovered a lost treasure. “(Y/N) has one of the most remarkable gifts I have ever seen.” He then turned to me. “You, (Y/N), are able to copy anyone else’s gifts and keep them as your own. You don’t even have to be in contact with them. Just by meeting someone, you can obtain their powers. I have never met anyone like that. You also seem to have obtained immunity to others’ powers, kind of like a shield. I have met such vampires before. From the stories Aro has been telling, your mother was like that. It is likely that you copied that gift for her. Such vampires are extremely useful to themselves or even others, in battles. Like themselves, you can use your gift to protect others from others’ powers, beside yourself.”

That came too sudden to my ears. I have assumed that I may have at least one power, but I didn’t realise I could copy others’ powers. That is why I was showing signs of Aro’s power!

“How can I train my powers? Eleazar! Carmen! You have to help me!”

“As you know, we will be leaving soon. I don’t know if there will be enough time to train you.”

“It’s okay. We will train as much as you want. Please, Eleazar! Please, Carmen!” I started begging them. As if they were hypnotized, they quickly looked at each other and agreed to help me.

The next few days, before Eleazar and Carmen’s departure, included intense training, far away from Volterra, deep in the woods, where no human could interrupt us. I couldn’t say the same for vampires, but I hoped nobody would cross paths with us. Eleazar and Carmen helped me develop my self-control and self-awareness, concentrating through the deepest parts of my mind, resurfacing my shield and expanding it beyond my existence. I started to have control over it, as if it was an actual solid substance, a veil floating around me towards any direction I ordered it to go.

After Eleazar and Carmen left, I started travelling the world more, trying to copy as many powers as I could come across with, while also training my shield. My excitement for the endless possibilities was what kept me going - kind of when Aro would add another talented vampire to his Guard. His Guard. Felix. I wonder how he was. I hadn’t seen him in a while. I wondered if he thought of me like I thought of him.

After travelling pretty much anywhere I could reach, I eventually went back to where it all started: I went to Greece. Aro met Sulpicia here, apparently my mom met my dad here. Maybe I could find out, understand why they left me. I have never met them, but I felt as if my tracking skills could detect them through my own existence.

I started travelling through the country, hoping that they stayed here or, at least, that they’re alive. I spent about 2 or 3 years in Greece, trying to take in every different place, while also avoiding the battles that seemed to take place in every other corner. I was feeding off animals mainly, mostly when I couldn’t find any other human food. I was washing myself in rivers, streams, whatever I could find.

I was stopping by any village that seemed to be still standing, asking about the current situation. The Greek Revolution, which started a few years ago, seemed to still be going on. The Ottomans, who had been occupying Greece for almost 400 years, could not allow Greeks to turn against them and start claiming their rights within the Ottoman Empire.

Many Greeks I met and talked to, admitted that some of the Ottomans were actually being nice to them; it was only the Ottoman government ordering their armies to execute massive massacres against Greeks, and after all this time, a few Greeks started gathering up and planning a revolution, away from Greece, in fear of being caught. They started getting organized and finding possible allies to help them with the Revolution; they just couldn’t risk getting caught within the country that they were hoping the independent Greece could become. The battles were becoming more and more intense, both on the mainland, as well as on the islands.

I started looking for answers, anything that could suggest that my parents were still alive and somewhere in Greece. To my surprise, I crossed paths with many Greek nomad vampires all over the country. They were also fighting against either Ottoman vampires or each other for territorial claims; however, they all talked me out of travelling north, towards Macedonia. The region had started being reclaimed back by Greek humans, but vampires were also seeing the potential for the area and they fought against each other for the land.

All of the nomads I encountered were talking about some of the most vicious vampires claiming the land, their enemies being literally slaughtered and burned to set an example for other vampires to back off their territory. I was intrigued, and I knew that, most probably, I would be able to deal with them or flee before they got to me.

So, I started travelling north, through the woods and mountains, in order to avoid any possible battle between humans, though many of them seemed to hide in the mountains, preparing for their battles. Macedonia was a quite big and vast region, so I had to travel quite a few days and search every possible corner.

I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I was feeling exhausted from all the searching. I haven’t fed in quite some time, and my throat was burning by the familiar need for blood. I haven’t seen any animals all these days, and I was wondering if they were gone or hiding.

Sadly, I came across a human. He seemed to be wounded, probably during a battle, his blood gushing out of his body. I couldn’t help myself, when I breathed in the smell, the burning sensation becoming unbearable. I thought of approaching him slowly, so as not to scare him, offering to help him, but deep down I just wanted to feed off of him.

“Γειά! Συγνώμη αν σε τρόμαξα. Σε είδα από μακριά. Μπορώ να σε βοηθήσω με κάποιο τρόπο; (Hey! Sorry if I scared you. I saw you from afar. Can I help you in any way?)” I offered calmly.

The man was trying to suppress his growls. I could sense his pain. I tried to help him stand on his feet, and then I saw all of his memories. He was in the army, fighting alongside Greeks against the Ottomans, in Macedonia, just outside of Thessaloniki. I didn’t even know I was so close to a city, let alone Thessaloniki.

He was trying to pass through the woods, when he came across what seemed to be two red-eyed vampires, one male and one female. They tried to attack him, but someone else managed to shoot him first, forcing the two vampires to run away. I don’t know how or why, these two felt familiar to me, I could feel that through his memories.

“Γειά! Μπορείς.. Μπορείς να πας στο κοντινότερο χωριό; Νομίζω.. Νομίζω ότι είδα κάτι στο δάσος, δε νομίζω ότι ήταν κάτι φυσιολογικό! Πρέπει.. Πρέπει να προειδοποιήσω τους άλλους! (Hey! Can.. Can you get me to the nearest village? I think.. I think I saw something in the woods, I don’t think it was something normal! I have.. I have to warn the others!)” He mumbled in between sharp shoots of pain.

“Με συγχωρείς πολύ! (I’m really sorry!)” I plead with guilty eyes. I put my hand in his wound, searching for the bullet, while he was consumed by pain. I took the bullet out of the wound, and quickly attached my lips on his skin, sucking the blood as fast as I could, biting deeply unintentionally. His screams were becoming louder and louder, so I covered his mouth with my hand, while trying to shut him up or break his jaw. A few seconds later, he stopped screaming, and I let his lifeless body fall, completely numb and drained out of blood.

I felt renewed, his blood travelling to every part of my body and giving me a new kind of strength that I haven’t felt in a while. I still felt guilty for killing him, but he was already wounded and I couldn’t risk him exposing our kind to others. I assumed that whoever found him - if anyone found him - would also assume that he died of blood loss, so I tried to position him in a realistic pose for that purpose, as best as I could. I left him there, and continued the search for my parents.

--------------------------------------------------------

I was running through the woods, trying to locate the two vampires from the guy’s memories. My mind was chaotic, I wasn’t thinking about something specific. I stopped in my tracks. What Aro taught me, and what I understood from Demetri’s tracking skills, is that you have to stop, take a breath and realize your position in the world. Then, you would be able to realize everything around you and find your targets. I have successfully found other vampires like that before, vampires who I have either met in person or smelled their scent, but I didn’t know if I could find someone through someone else’s memories of them.

I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate as best as I could, focusing on the smaller details of the guy’s memories of these vampires. I felt two vampires running on my west, about 10 kilometers away, and I ran after them. They were running fast, but I was way faster. Within a minute or two, I was running right behind their tracks. They must have realized that a stranger was following them, but, instead of running, they suddenly stopped. I stopped as well, and we were now facing each other.

The female had long, brunette, curly hair, and the male short, dark brown, straight hair; both of their hair looked shiny, healthy, and rich. They were of average height and their eyes were piercing red, as if they also fed quite recently. The female was exceptionally beautiful and enchanting; I could only compare her to Heidi’s exceptional beauty. The male looked quite stoic and austere, though still beautiful.

Both of them on defensive positions, waiting for me to attack. I wasn’t planning to move any further from my position; I was only waiting for their own reactions. I felt that kind of a burning sensation within me again, like a feeling buried deep inside me, trying to find an escape.

Suddenly, the male growled at me, flames springing out of his hands, and being thrown at me. I felt my heart fall out of my chest, fearing that this would be my end. As if my body reacted on its own, I felt my own shield extending out of my body, building a wall around me and protecting me from the male’s attack. My hands started burning and flames came out, ready to counterattack the male. The male looked at the female, dumbfounded by what he witnessed, still in a defensive position, but ready to attack again.

“I’M NOT HERE TO FIGHT YOU!” I shouted at both of them. “I’M JUST SEARCHING FOR SOMEONE!”

The male shrinked back, the female following close by. “Who are you looking for? We haven’t seen you around. Who are you? Why are you here?” The male requested. His voice serious, but smooth at the same time; a voice I could only describe as the warm earth below their bare feet.

“No, I’m not. I come from Italy, though I think I was born around here. My name is (Y/N), I’m looking for my parents. I don’t quite remember what they look like, but I’m pretty sure that they lived around here. They abandoned me when I was a baby.”

“This has been our territory for almost 3 millennials! We would have known if any humans abandoned their offspring around here!” The female exclaimed, as if she didn’t believe a word I said. I didn’t want to tell them the whole story, but I had to show them that I didn’t mean to fight in any way.

“I never said they were humans. My mother was actually sort of a vampire, like you.”

The female started letting her guards down. “What do you mean sort of? I’ve never heard of a “sort of vampire” before!” She continued doubtfully.

“Believe me or don’t, my mother was born half vampire, half human. My dad wasn’t even a vampire before she met him. He wasn’t even human to be honest.” My eyes started stinging slightly. I could have had a good, happy life if they didn’t abandon me. I wouldn’t have to grow up with Aro.

“You said you were from Italy.” I nodded at the male, as he continued. “You never said where exactly.”

I wasn’t sure if I should tell them my real origin; I wouldn’t like them to know I was a Volturi, but I knew I needed help to find my parents. If they were actually here as long as they say, they might have known or met my parents at some point.

“Volterra. I was born here, in Greece, like my mother, but grew up in Volterra with my grandparents.” I looked down, kind of scared, kind of anxious, waiting for their next move.

The female gasped. “Are you a Volturi?!” I looked at her, straight in the eyes, swallowed, and nodded. “I know the Volturi. Who are your grandparents?”

“Aro and Sulpicia.” I answered so quietly that, if they weren’t vampires, they wouldn’t have heard me, my voice trembling slightly.

The female suddenly fell on her knees, the male wrapping his arms around her, comforting her. I didn’t know what was going on. Did I say something wrong? Were they scared? The sheer mention of the Volturi would scare a lot of vampires, but I thought that maybe these two seemed strong enough to deal with them.

The female started sobbing, no tears coming out of her red eyes, her body shaking. I felt something within me break. I felt that I didn’t want to upset them, that’s why I was hesitant in telling them who I really was. The male looked at me, pain in his eyes. I saw a familiar look. I saw me in his eyes, what I looked at in my mirror anytime I was thinking about my parents, or, sometimes, when I thought of Felix.

“Are you a half witch?” The male asked quietly. Something snapped in me. How would he know that?

“I swear, I didn’t do anything to your mate! I DIDN’T!” I shouted at the male. I didn’t want him to think that I would hurt his mate, or himself.

“I know you wouldn’t. It’s just..” He looked at his mate who had stopped sobbing, but was still down on her knees, unable to stand up. “..my mate is Aro and Sulpicia Volturi’s only daughter.”

My body tensed and shivered. If that woman is the only daughter Aro and Sulpicia ever had...could that mean..?

I took a few steps back. “AM I YOUR DAUGHTER? ARE YOU MY PARENTS?” I looked at them in disbelief.

Those were the people who abandoned me! That let me grow parentless, under Aro’s rules and directions! I was breathing heavily, in between sobs. I didn’t even realize that I set my whole body ablaze, until both vampires looked at me shocked. I didn’t feel any pain, but I couldn’t stop the flames licking my body, and in my frantic state, I started panicking even more.

The male started approaching me slowly, trying to not scare me away. “Shush, shush. You’re okay. You’re doing okay. I know how it feels at first. You’re experiencing some aspects of the life as a witch. It’s okay. Close your eyes and picture the flames in your head.” I closed my eyes and tried concentrating on the flames. “Now, imagine them burning out, becoming smaller and weaker.” I focused on the flames, imagining them weakening. After a few minutes, I felt them getting smaller and smaller, and finally disappearing. I opened my eyes slowly.

The female was standing next to the male, watching me carefully. In a quick motion, she pulled me and embraced me, stroking my hair lightly. I breathed in her scent, a mix of mountain flowers and the saltiness of the sea. Her touch was soft, and filled me up with what felt like a thousand different emotions.

But, I mostly felt safe. It was the first time in my life that I actually felt this safe. And whole. I felt like I actually belonged somewhere. I hugged her back. Tears started spilling from my eyes. That was my mom! That was actually my mom! After all this time, we were finally together. I felt the male, my dad, hugging both of us, and in that moment, I felt my legs giving up on me, and I finally fell into a long sleep.

[starlessea]

Ultimate Guide To Writing Second Person POV

Y/N, You, and Everything in Between

Hey everyone, here’s another post for my writing tips series - this time focusing on how to write in second person.

As a lot of fanfics are written in this POV, you’re probably already familiar with seeing ‘You’ or ‘Y/N’ to describe the reader. But, I wanted to give a few tips on how to construct this type of character - keeping it accessible, whilst not making it too vague/general either.

1) The Reader Insert

One of the most common tropes in fanfiction is to use ‘Y/N’ in place of a character name. It is literally an abbreviation for ‘your name,’ and therefore allows the reader to insert themselves into the fic.

There’s a lot of debate surrounding the use of ‘Y/N.’ Personally, I think it’s fine, and I find it quite unfair when a lot of people show undeserved bias towards it. There is, by no means, any correlation between the standard of writing and whether or not an author uses ‘Y/N.’ It is just personal preference!

However, you must ensure the following things if you are going to use it:

Be consistent in capitalisation - it’s a pet peeve to see it rendered as ‘Y/n,’ ‘Y/N,’ and ‘y/n’ all in a single fic. Pick one and stick to it.

Don’t overuse it - something about the dash really sticks out like a sore thumb. I try to use it for emphasis mainly, like if someone is talking to the character in an emotional moment. But don’t forget that you can use VARIATION, too. Such as:

He called your name.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, and repeated your name.

“I’ve called your name three times now.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, over the sound of the engine.

If you’re writing a multi-chapter fic, keep in mind that although ‘Y/N’ is meant to refer to a general name, it shouldn’t always refer to a general character! What I mean by this is, nobody wants to read a long fanfiction where the main character lacks any distinguishable features, personality traits, or development.

Just because your pronouns and naming system is vague doesn’t mean your character should be! You need to give them distinguishable characteristics - even if it’s as simple as them liking music, having a specific family background, having certain speech patterns.

As much as we might be tempted to write as inclusively as we can, it is unrealistic to have a ‘one-size-fits-all character in EVERY scenario.’ One of the main points of criticism against ‘Y/N’ is that they lack DEPTH.

Another thing to note is that there are chrome extensions like InteracticeFics - where you can enter your name at the start of a fanfic and it’ll automatically replace ‘Y/N’ with it. You may have seen those little boxes on certain Tumblr posts that allow you to do this!

2) The Impersonal ‘You’

This is just a phrase I’ve coined to describe fics that replace ‘Y/N’ exclusively with ‘you.’ I almost visualise it as a sort of hierarchy of depth, or a sliding scale that goes from Y/N > Impersonal You > Personal You > OC.

What I mean by this is, if we think of an OC, they are often a fully fleshed out character. They’ll have a full name, age, appearance, background, likes/dislikes etc. Whereas, with Y/N and the Impersonal You, we can often get away with glossing over these things - or generalising them (but not TOO much, remember).

The Impersonal You is for those who don’t like the visual look of ‘Y/N.’ It is more traditional, and I find that it takes away from the reading experience less. However, there are still pitfalls with this form:

There is a lack of variation - unlike the previous example, here you can’t switch between ‘Y/N’ and ‘you.’ Often, you’ll find that your fics become completely littered with the word, since it describes both the PERSON (the pronoun, replacing he/she/they) and the NAME. So you may find yourself left with something like this:

You finished tying your shoes and look up at the man, already looking at you. “Are you done?” He asked. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated your name to get your attention.

In that passage alone there was 8 instances of ‘you/your.’ In terms of correctness, there is nothing wrong with it. However, it leaves much to be desired stylistically.

You need to be aware of this if you’re writing in this form, and maybe carry out this visual exercise of ‘you’ spotting and counting to check. Instead, try to experiment with adverbs and playing around with syntax order. We could write something like this:

Tying your shoelaces, you looked up at the man to see that he was already looking at you. “Ya done yet?” He asked. “I’ve been callin’ for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated himself to get your attention.

3) The Personal ‘You’

This form is the bridge between the Impersonal You and an OC. It is used to describe someone who is almost an original character, whilst still keeping them relatable. I like this example especially, since it allows for a lot of variation and style.

One of the fics I’m writing, for instance, is about a teacher. Therefore, although I use ‘you’ the majority of the time, I’m also granted the extra variety of ‘Teach.’ A lot of my other characters use that nickname to refer to her. So it’s a good idea to have some distinguishable features that can be used as identifiers - like a certain profession for example.

I’ve also read another fic about a doctor, where everyone calls her ‘Doc,’ and another one where the character is identified by the name of the gang she belongs to. So, it doesn’t always have to be a job - it can be hobbies, interests, an embarrassing secret, a pet name etc.

Here are a few examples:

“Hey, Sunshine.” He greeted, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Get over here, Teach!” She called, and you quickly ran over to hear people muttering your name.

“Well if it isn’t that biker chick I’ve heard so much about.”

“I want to get to know you better, Doc.” He said, and you started by telling him your name. “That’s pretty” He replied, trying it out for himself as he struggled to pronounce it.

4) General Points

Nicknames

As we’ve just gone through, nicknames, pet names, or little identifiers can be a great way to gain some variation - and give an insight into your character’s background. Even if you’re writing in the ‘Y/N’ form, you can use general ones like ‘sweetheart’ etc. to show the relationships between your characters.

Abbreviated Names

With these nicknames, or professions, try out the long forms but also abbreviate them for variation:

Doctor > Doc

Teacher > Teach

And have different characters say them in different ways, or use different ones to address your main character. For example, you might want to emphasise different accents.

Darling > Darlin’

A Nameless Character

It might even be fun to take a meta approach, where your character is consciously aware that they don’t have a name. I read an interesting fic where the reader ironically belonged to a group called ‘nameless’ - and that’s what people called her by.

Or, you could have a character with amnesia - and watch as other people give them an array of nicknames throughout your story.

That’s it for now! I hope you found this part helpful. Send me a message if there’s any other topics you want covered.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing. 

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company. 

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

 “Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked. 

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

 “Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

 “You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

 “I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again. 

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

 “If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants. 

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest. 

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has. 

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is… 

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”

[himbodjarin]

God Among Mandalorians; CH5

18+ Content: post season two, third person pov (din focused), unprotected sex, smut Word Count: 3795 Pairing: Haunted!Din/Mando!Reader

Din Djarin is subjected to malevolent whispers from a blade he doesn’t wish to own; they speak to him - encourage him to pursue the deepest and darkest of his desires. It’s impossible to control and when it comes too much, he’s forced to finally let go—to become the Mand'alor he’s written out to be by an ancient power. Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist

CHAPTER FIVE: TRAINING

She claims she doesn’t want Din’s help -- doesn’t want a bar of him and demonstrated her intolerance towards him with honed blades and fingers made of acid, and he can sense that some of that holds true. She doesn’t want him near her—doesn’t want to allow the possibility of him edging closer into her personal space—but even so, the Gladiator’s hatch is extended. Tunnelled into molten lands and accessible for anything. Anyone.

It’s silent inside except for the soft mechanical purr of its engine. Automated lights direct him to where she’s located, sitting at the pilot’s chair that looks far too large without the bulk of her armour. She vacantly aims her blaster in his general direction without turning to face him, her mind elsewhere. Din doesn’t say a word as he approaches her and urges the barrel towards the ground with a limp hand, peering at her lap where her helmet is situated.

The emptiness of the visor slices into her and all she can do is stare; surrender to its incessant tantalizing.

“It’s not your fault,” Din speaks gently. “It can be challenging reverting to a lifestyle you haven’t been acquainted with in some time.”

He expects a what would you know about all that or get the hell off my ship but he’s given nothing in return and it’s somehow worse. Never in his wildest dreams would he think he would miss the rotten tone of her snark, but he does. It doesn’t seem right, almost as though she has been replaced with some artificial version of herself incapable of speaking or moving—solely proficient in the act of disoriented staring.

“Nex—”

There’s a slight hitch in her shoulders, a jerk of a tense before slumping once again. “She killed my mentor.”

“Shand? What are your plans for her?”

“Kill her.”

That’s less than ideal, having had cleared the air between him and Fennec—and with the rise of Fett, the situation will only diverge into something greater—but he can sympathise with her. The demand to seek vengeance. The knowledge that the ones you love no longer live because of the behaviour of another, but he would be lying if he said her plans are realistic.

“He was a peacekeeper,” she continues, “only killed when it was necessary. I’m certain he would be saddened by my endeavours but I feel as though I owe it to him. An eye for an eye sorta deal.”

He watches her fingers itch against the corner of her visor and sighs, “Why are you telling me this?”

“You seem like someone who’s been through a lot. I can’t see your eyes but I hear it in your voice—even with that low-grade modulator. It’s in the way you carry yourself; heavy and fatigued but alarmingly relentless.” She pauses for a breath and connects with his visor, her dour eyes reflecting a blur of steel and nothing more. “I figured someone of your stature could be capable of changing my mind. Tell me I’m in over my head or to give up while I’m still breathing. Be a leader and get me to stand down.”

Din is the first to shred that line between them, to slip away from her pleading and instead gaze out the viewport. He finds something to focus on out in the volcanic wastelands and settles on a Qartuum in the distance. It stares back at him and, as ominous as its eyes are, he finds it to be easier than looking at the woman beside him.

“We’re well acquainted with revenge and, if you agree, we can help you.”

“We?”

He nods. “There’s a lot the covert caretakers won’t teach you; things they don’t understand themselves. We can instruct you—become like a tutor or a leader, as you would say.”

“This isn’t what I was expecting,” she admits.

“The decision has already been made within you. You know you’re going to seek the death of Shand whether I advise against it or not, but you’re not ready. There’s strength and courage in you, we see that, but you’re at a disadvantage without your helmet. I’ve confronted her before. She’s not one to shy away from a challenge.”

“What do you propose?”

Slowly, like a baby learning its first steps, he turns to face her once more; bleary eyes focused on gently parted lips to not be forced into her pull. “We’ll train together. It will take some time but it’s best to be prepared for her. She’s a high ranking mercenary. It’ll be a difficult task.”

Her bottom lip quivers with hesitancy before it’s clamped between her teeth, her thoughts certainly rapid-firing through her—should she trust him, does she want to have him this close, could she even come close to comparing to Shand’s skills—but Din dissolves her concerns with a kind hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool. This isn’t something you’re required to accomplish alone, Mesh’la.”

She sighs and allows for her chair to swallow her whole. It’s surreal how much smaller she appears in it without her armour. “If we’re to do this,” she shoots a staggering glare at him, “you need to tone it down with the nicknames.”

“Perhaps if you were to provide me with a name,” he says playfully, a single finger shifting from her shoulder to run a line up her neck.

He’s knocked away. “—And all this blatant flirting.”

Din takes the rejection like a man and sinks into the paired seat, but can’t stop himself with a final quip: “Pretend all you wish. I know you’ve thought about it. Much more than what I’ve already given to you in the hold.”

“Something I’ll regret to the day I fall, I see.”

***

Dantooine. While named only a few letters off from Tatooine, it’s certainly the polar opposite of that miserable sandy hell. There are spirited forests and lush fields as far as the eye can see and a little more with the aid of Din’s magnifier. The Gladiator is stationed in the midst of it all; in a secluded area where she’ll be comfortable being so exposed, at least as much as one can be.

They stand apart from each other, sets of feet rooted into the ground as if they’d lived there their entire lives. Din’s stance is much more composed than hers, a fist perched on his hip with a tipped helmet blithely inviting her to make the first move. She’s got her knees bent, bracing for a moment of distraction, a pass of wind, before leaping across the battlefield towards him.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he allows for her to charge and knock him to the ground.

“You’re too assertive,” Din thinks aloud. “Charging into battle won’t award you with anything more than a bullet to your head.”

She groans and pushes herself off him using his chestplate as leverage. “You’re the one who requested I rush you.”

“Yes. I need to evaluate all angles and the lack of maneuvers in that one motion is proof enough; there’s a lot of work to be done.”

“Sheesh. Just call me a lost cause.”

Din brushes the dirt from his flight suit as he stands. “No need to be dramatic. Strength is going to be your main focus—it’s where you excel. It’s impressive how you struck me. Use that in conjunction with stealth tactics and Fennec won’t know what hit her.”

She goes to return to her position for a second attempt but he pulls her back by the wrist though he doesn’t catch her off guard as he was anticipating; a sturdy fist recedes into the protection of his abdominals where, just barely, he can feel the ridges of her knuckles.

“You’re underestimating me,” she says. “I was Mandalorian once, too. Give me a real challenge.”

“There will be time for that later.”

It’s not what she wants to hear and she makes her impatience evident with a scoff. She eyeballs his hand in her peripherals, twisting her wrist in its clasp in an attempt to overpower him. “Use that Darksaber of yours and fight me.”

“That’s not a clever idea.”

“Shand isn’t one for hand-to-hand combat. If you can’t bring yourself to be of some use to me, maybe this planet will be your last stop.”

Her threats are lacklustre, but the mere attempts of persuasion rouse that exhaustive pressure inside him; the disturbingly excited fingers itching for a neglected hilt. Din’s learnt that it’s best to entertain their demands - best to dip his toes in the waters but sustain the authority of it all.

“Your vambraces,” Din grunts as he releases and pushes himself out of her reach. A hand slips down his hip, unhooking the weapon from its fastener. “They’re made of beskar, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Use them.”

The Darksaber awakens, stretching a metre out of its portable canister and soulfully thrumming a deep tune. Din notices the hesitation—the sudden uncertainty standing before someone capable of so much—and he builds himself on it like a foundation; lunging for an attack slowly, as to not catch her too off-guard, but it’s an approach nonetheless.

His attack isn’t powerful in the slightest but she still stumbles backwards as the sabre clashes against her armour, mouth agape in bewilderment.

“This is what you wanted,” Din says, voice low and bassy and it’s all that’s needed with the lack of space between them. “Sur’ar, verd.”

She thrusts her arm skywards until the Darksaber reaches above his head but Din utilises the momentum for a downswing, anticipating a kick to his legs or a punch in the stomach but she doesn’t aim for either. His hands fall into hers and they battle for dominance, the muscles in her arms beginning to quiver beneath the strength of a dozen in his own.

There’s no winning in sight for her if she doesn’t switch up her strategy and she knows that—her hand slip upwards a little more until a pair of fingers wrap themselves around a portion of the Sabre. Din winces; a phantom ache creeping up his spine and eating away at his bone marrow. It’s in his heart, too, not quite as painful but a strain that tugs and compresses the organ until it feels like mush.

Gev. Gev!

He withdraws from her and retires the sabre back to his hip.

“What’s—”

“That’s enough for today. Preserve your energy for the next.”

She furrows her brows in confusion. “We’ve hardly started. Quit acting so stiff and let’s go again.”

“You won’t learn anything if you don’t have patience.”

Din attempts to leave—to escape the uncomfortable energy he’s produced—but she’s got other plans in mind; running her foot ahead of his and sweeping his legs out beneath him. He duplicates her own moves and she falls to the grass beside him, the inch of her hand to her vibro-knife is persuasion enough for Din to pin her hands under his own.

“Not right now, Mesh’la,” he recommends.

She’s brazen; golden hues of courage and temptation glittering in her eyes. It’s distracting - on the verge of bothersome.

“What makes you so special? What’d you do to claim the title of Mand’alor?”

“Are you doubting my status?”

She chuckles. “Consider it from my perspective; the leader of our people, a legend told to us the moment we’re brought into the galaxy, shows up out of the blue and he’s proven capable of nothing more than mere intimidation.”

It’s just an effort to rile him up—and fuck if it ain’t working. There’s little patience residing within him these days. Hoarding a collection of everlasting souls does that to a man. Before all of this, before he accepted the bounty that altered his perspective on circumstances, Din would treat her like any other unruly quarry: stuff her in a pod of carbonite set for extra-glacial. But things have changed, he’s changed, and the ancient’s have no desire to harm or silence her—Din doesn’t quite understand that last one.

“Watch your tone,” he warns, the flavour of his voice reducing when he catches a glimpse of her eyes. “I haven’t needed to show my potential, but that doesn’t mean I’m unable.”

Moments pass—two or three, four if he counts the one he skips over by virtue of her; just her—and he wants to pull back a little from her space but it’s also the last thing he wants. He’d remain here for eternity if it allowed for him to feel the pulse of her veins through his palms and to count the ceaseless constellations in her eyes.

“It seems we encounter this position quite a lot, you and I.”

Din’s eyebrow quirks. “It’s as though you adore it.” His words welcome the bleeding of pale pinks on her cheeks and he smiles beneath his helmet—a piece of a battered puzzle slotting into position at her reaction and he’s certainly going to exploit it. “I suspected as much, but to see the truth…”

“You’re so—” Din lewdly runs a hand down her torso and shelters the tips of his fingers beneath the hem of her tunic. “...what—”

“Interesting how you request me to stop my propositioning, yet you feel so strongly about me in that way. Am I tempting you too greatly, Mesh’la?”

She scoffs but it’s wasted effort. “I can’t stand you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s obvious you like this position as is,” Din teases, “though, it’s rather revealing. Shall we relocate inside?”

She simply stares at him.

“This isn’t going to tarnish your credibility if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Din pins her in his visor, each inch from the top of her head to the base of her stomach where his hand sits. “Go on, show me that Mandalorian restraint.”

Show me you don’t want me to touch you. Show them you won’t yield.

He’s yanked by the rim of his chestplate to where the hard edge of his helmet pokes against her chin and he breathes, sharp and short like a refined dagger, but it emerges from his vocoder nonetheless.

“Or’dinii,” she grins—lips stretched broad across her face with a cleverness he’s well underprepared for—and recoils when her hand slides lower and lower until perched amongst the grooves of a hilt that whines—screeches at the assertiveness in her touch. It hurts Din, too, not just the ancients; the ramming of a blunt scalpel among his muscles, attempting to produce incisions in the sketch of his spine to fillet him alive.

For a moment he’s lost, yanked from the palms of shadows and transported to a vacuum - not necessarily a location but a feeling. Something quiet and mellow washes over him, a sensation so foreign to him that he can only believe it to be deceitful; a diversion of a bigger picture, or perhaps that’s just his overly attention-obsessive bounty hunter side nudging a blaster in his side. A mere reminder of who he will always be at his core.

The instant she speaks it all fades away, the sweet taste of silence disrupted, and he fights to be held within it again but it’s no longer.

“For a ruler, you’re rather careless with your guard—or lack of.”

“Let go,” he demands, a hand over hers.

“No.”

Din musters up the strength and drowns out the pain, his fingers nesting in the meat of her hips for a second before propelling themselves upright in a fluid motion. His energy is palpable, radiating off him like a beacon, and he maneuvers her legs so they’re around his waist and he’s on his feet before she realises what’s occurring.

She stares into his visor; an almost blank expression but the colour in her eyes are shimmering. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Exactly what you want me to do.”

They’ve crossed the Gladiator’s entrance in a few seconds and entered her quarters in a few more. She experiments with his patience, her thumb tweaking the latch at the peak of the Darksaber. She’s so casual in nature about it; no hesitancy or recognition of who he is and what this stands for. It dislodges from its perch and Din’s quick to right her wrongs, clicking the fastener back to his hip and sinking low enough for his hamstrings to meet with her bunk. Seated in his lap and her hand stripped of the Darksaber, she drives a palm against his chest until he’s propped on his elbows.

Din waits, watches, outlines the wrinkle in her brow with a gloved thumb and allows his touch to lurk against the span of her neck. Treating her like that of a timid lothcat wary of human contact, Din is almost perplexed at her confidence...almost. He should know better than to assume her strength—her pride—by now. She doesn’t shy away from him; not when he nudges her tolerance levels and certainly not when trying to initiate something that’s been in the back of his mind all this time.

His title is not intimidation to her, nor is what he’s capable of.

A hand glides to his cowl and locates the partings between the fabrics, a dinky gap only one of his own could pinpoint, and he shrinks into himself when there’s contact—the faintest trace of icy fingertips against his warm throat. There’s sand in his lungs and a blockage in his mouth, something durable and unmoving like leather clogging up his pipes, but he stills; lend her what trust still resides inside and mirrors her advancements with his own.

The stroke of her chin between thumb and forefinger, the squeeze of her hip in the bulk of his coarse hide, the witty and knowing look in her eyes when she peers into his visor -- they’re in a battle; luring the other in and she’s hardly lifted a finger before Din’s at the brink of collapse. But, ultimately, it’s the rolling of his hips that brings him to victory.

She surrenders and instead turns her attention to his belt, loosening the strap with a single hand until her fingers are able to slip beneath the fabric. When their eyes meet, it’s as though they’re in hyperspace -- suspended and isolated but together. Somewhere where the only sound is the thumping in their ears or their clipped breathing. It’s unspoken and it’s going to stay that way.

No words, they quietly agree.

Din’s glove travels around the rim of her trousers like a ship sailing the seas, dipping in and over the waves and dragging the fabric down. The ice against his skin grows and roams to the side and upwards, her fingertips studying the bristly hairs swept beneath his jaw; an action that often doesn’t bode well to a Mandalorian but, considering the circumstances and his raw desire, Din lightly thrums and sends the pulse through to her.

They separate for a second or two, barely enough time for either of them to labour at their garments and finally seize a moment of pleasure. Din’s on her like glue, reversing their positions so he can provide whatever he sees fit at the moment but his actions dawdle to preserve the sight in memory; a bare leg on either side of his thighs where the slope of her knee nudges into his hipbone and he can’t imagine a better location for it to rest.

The Darksaber poses as an obstruction and he decides to part with it, at least briefly, and settles it out of the way — but within reach.

Din dips a hand between their bodies and follows the path of her skin leading to her centre. It’s there when he inches closer and elevates himself above her with an outstretched arm, giving her one more glance in search of approval before sinking himself into her warmth. It’s different than the last -- slower, more tender, though that’s a severe overstatement of what this is.

It’s nothing - this is nothing; exclusively an act made to relieve themselves.

So why is it that Din wants to touch her with golden fingers and memorise the taste of her sweat?

Actions like these come with a price, one that he can’t allow himself to be subjected to—not again.

She tugs on his chestplate, pressing their chests together and suppressing the spike in her breathing into his clothed shoulder. Din’s own moans are silenced with a bite of his tongue, though a stray grunt manages to escape the recesses of his throat when his hips drive a little too deep.

Din can smell the stain of armour oil on her skin long after no longer wearing it. Combine that with the scent of her shampoo and you get her. A fragrance uniquely hers, and perhaps there’s more to it—a spice he can’t quite place and that pepper and honey mix he recognised earlier—but the floral of her body wash is too irresistible when he’s so close. The face of his visor tucks into the side of her neck, one of his hands slipping through her hair and clutching until she’s arched and he can thrust stronger.

The foundations of her bunk are weak and it creaks each time he pushes his weight into her—something he’ll tend to in due time—but he quite likes it; it encourages him, sings a song of his talents and her boosted moans are all the applause he needs.

It’s not quite the same as last time, where it had been quick and laced with arrogancy, but rather subdued. Quiet. Not in terms of noise exactly, but the spite they hold for each other has been put on the back burner for the time being.

With the aid of his thumb serving her needs to her clit, she’s on the verge of finishing in a matter of seconds and she signals him of it when her hands return to his throat. Din grunts as her fingers sweep his flesh and she invites him to quicken his pace when her nails burrow into the base.

He reads her cues; the pad of his thumb firmly pressed and his hips crashing against hers with an audible slap. She tightens around him and it’s plenty to tend to his own needs. The trembles that travel through her body are sightly and he bemoans at her shirt interfering with his ability to properly watch her in such a state.

Din unloads on the inside of her thigh, the pearly white liquid streaming down at a sluggish pace but he doesn’t attempt to assist in cleaning up—doesn’t attempt to do anything besides gawk at the woman beneath him and how her sweat-slicked forehead causes stray hair to cling to herself.

Round two, perhaps?

He noiselessly sighs and refuses the temptation, collecting his Darksaber and trousers before abandoning her to clean up alone.

******

sur'ar, verd - concentrate, soldier gev - stop it or'dinii - fool/moron

taglist: @ohhersheybars, @greatcircle79, @northernpunk, @tanzthompson, @omgreally, @djarrex, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @riddikulus-obsessions

[fndmxreader]

fandom: harry potter. pairing:  remus lupin x reader | the reader simps for lupin because isn’t that all what we do daily ?  summary:   connected to the self indulgent series where the reader is a slytherin muggle born witch working alongside the teachers at hogwarts.   note: this series will bounce around a lot involving timelines, but a lot of them don’t really have a coherent story line anyway.  movie setting:  prisoner of askaban.  pov:   she/her pronouns.

you were looking off into the distance in a daze, end of pen in mouth as your writings came to a halt and instead getting caught up in thoughts.  your summer hadn’t been great,  if you were being completely honest :  your muggle friends were getting on your case regarding being missing for a year,  you knew at some point you had to pick : the wizarding world or the muggle one,   living two lives was absolutely exhausting,  living them meant being two types of people - like one example,  you had accidentally used a levitating spell to put a cup back and last minute your friend walked in, smashing on the floor as your hand flinched down to your side.

“ what was that crash ? “  “ i put the mug too close to the counter, “ you had laughed nervously, quickly walking towards the glass to pick it up “ it fell off as a result ”  “you’re clumsiness is going to be the death of you “    

that was only one of the close calls,  there were far too many to keep track of,  including dropping hints to the wizarding world in conversation, only to stutter and try and say you were referencing a bizarre indie movie from overseas. at this point you were trying to pick would it be even possible to choose a side ?  it seemed impossible just to pick one over the other,  especially knowing that no matter what route you take it would result in an empty, hollow feeling left inside of chest.    you’re not sure who you could go to for guidance,  you weren’t familiar with any muggle borns your own age,  and talking to a pureblood or half blood would go in vein,  the latter would understand to some degree,  but ultimately it’s not the same and with it being so complicated,  listening to people who barely got it would be a waste of time and only twist the knife in gut. 

 “ everyone,  i would like to introduce you to remus jo - “     that was all you really heard dumbledore say before ears blocked out the world like static,  everything beyond the screaming in your head made everything else seem like a distant hum with no tune,  a crackle of a tv that can’t quite catch signal.  your pen tapped against your bottom lip,  perching against it as you eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.   

maybe professor dumbledore could help,  he wouldn’t get it but maybe he could shred some light on the situation ? he was always good at that. 

“ miss l/n - “

perhaps it’s all just being blown out of proportion,  work leave would surely be something the muggles would understand that.  even if they are after photos, work gossip and other details - 

“ y/n “  between the firmness and the sudden block of your view as the men stepped into eyesight causes you to flinch,  reeling away from nothing in panic as you try and grasped your surroundings once more,   blinking up in a rapid succession that causes concern to flash on the two men’s faces.  it takes a moment to register where you were,  the surroundings,  what the hell was going on in general... 

“ huh ? “  your tongue pokes out to roll against your bottom lip,  eyes wide as you stared up at dumbledore,  only for sight to break away from the one your most familiar with to the new guy...    you won’t lie to yourself,  you weren’t ready for seeing someone like him,  especially in your state.  his eyes were beaming with life,  amusement dancing behind dark hues as a faint smile tugged at lips,  hands pushed far into pockets as eye contact seemed to lock,  your lips part to say something,  anything but much like before your brain seemed to short circuit,  this time for an entirely and much more embarrassing reason,  “ huh ? “ you repeated again,  cheeks coming to life with colour as you kept looking at the new guy.

“ this is professor lupin, y/n.   the new defence against the dark arts teacher - “  speaking slower now,  and you’re rather grateful for the approach because you really needed things to stop going by so quickly,  the whole world seemed to flash in front of you at lightening speed.

“ oh “ a pause,  then it really began to register “ OH ! “  it was the most beautiful example of a pin drop ever to grace hogwarts’ walls  (  yes,  dumbledore will be thinking about it years to come  )   -  you jump up rather clumsily and hold your hand out to the man  “ hi,  sorry  -  i was just ... never mind,  hi  ! “ you repeated again,  the embarrassment settling deep within bones,  making itself at home in the creases of mind that would take weeks to weave out.  but regardless of the mocking in head, you do your best to not feed it and give it anymore attention... at least for the time being.   lupins much bigger hand wraps around yours,  a firm but gentle grasp as he finally takes the moment to speak himself. 

“ that’s quite alright,  i can tell that we disturbed you.  in fact i believe we should be the ones apologising, however professor dumbledore here insisted on the introduction - “ it came easily,  between tone of his voice and the warmth of his hand, you’ve never felt safer, it was like being in a warm hug beside the fire on the night of winter;   you mentally slap yourself for acting like a teenager towards a complete stranger.   your eyes however, narrow towards dumbledore,  in a way blaming you own pathetic display on him.  a faint smile on his lips as he made up some excuse to leave the pair of you alone,  not at all hiding the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at the scene that played out. 

your hand flexed around remus’,  far too busy sending daggers at dumbledore walking away than the fact you were still holding the older man hostage,  not helping the murmured   “ ugh,  he can be such an arse sometimes - “ 

“ i believe that’s apart of the charm “ remus chimed,  your eyes moving back to his as you smiled up at him once more,  less tense than what your face was previously  “ um,   miss l/n ?  your hand - “ 

“ oh, fuck, sorry - “   instantly your arms folded across your chest,  the blush only darkening your cheeks “ i promise i’m not this socially inept,  well,  at least to this extent - “ 

“ oh,  don’t fret.  i’ve met much worse people,  i myself tend to panic in social situations.  they’re not my forte “   you shoulders relax,  though you can’t help but note that he seemed surprisingly at ease even with the confession. your eyes dance around the staff room,  much to your own relief they seemed to be back to focusing on their own work. 

“ well,  you’re doing much better than me if that’s any help.  so,  you’re teaching dark arts -  ? “ then the conversation seemed to spark to life without much spluttering after that,  eventually both sitting on the couch and bonding over lessons;  including how you got your position in the first place,   your arm rested on the back of the furniture as your body turned fully to him,  the longer the pair of you were sat there,  the more they progressed beyond work and more into personal ones, about experiences outside of hogwarts and within the walls, not helping the fits of giggles that bubbled in your chest. 

“ being a slytherin comes with the natural title of ‘dark pranks,’  most of us tend to live up to the name.  people demonise us,  so we give them a reason to continue it.  that certainly doesn’t end at our humour, i think it shows more than ever in that aspect - “ you giggled again, head shaking  “ i remember my friends putting a real snake in one of the gryffindors bed covered in animals blood, the girl panicked for weeks  -  but they started it  ! “   

“ i must say being a gryffindor myself,  i feel like i should be offended on behalf of them.  then again,  my friends here were trouble makers as well.  their pranks could... “  wrist rolled in the air,  and while there’s a hint of pain twisting in features and a haunted look that seemed to cover bright eyes,  there was still a fondness in how he spoke  “ extremely, well and truly out of hand ? “

“ ahah  ! “  it’s like a triumph,  finger pointing at the others face   “ you can hide behind the fancy wording all you want, professor.  but you gryffindors can be just as over the top as the rest of us,  if not more so ! “  he knocks your hand away from his face playfully,  grin widening as mock offence does its best to take over features.

“ firstly,  you may call me remus,  second of all,  i will agree with nothing you say,  i would never stoop so low. “ 

your heart skipped a beat at the notion. 

“ you may call me y/n, only when you admit i’m right - “ 

a nice joke to push down the giddiness of calling him by his first name the short hours of knowing him. 

“ how very slytherin of you - “ 

“ how very gryffindor of you to point that out, remus “ 

the back and forth banter eventually came to a halt, as minutes ticked by it was time to go to the great hall for food and to sort out the new years. you and remus walked in a comfortable silence,  a lightness surrounding you both as it showed in your steps, and showed in the way his lips remained locked in a subtle smile.  you were left with one feeling...  finally, dumbledore hired someone worthwhile. you would also give him a hard time for that awkward bow that he did at dinner.