#slowly chipping away at these voice claims as I find them

[lackluster-plays]

Accuracy 5/5

[birrdies]

“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - The oldest game

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. It probably wasn't too often the game got played, which made it all the more exciting you supposed.

Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another. You remained sitting on the floor wrapped up in Dream's warm coat. It was all that was protecting you from the eyes of others. You kept your eyes on Morpheus.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master pf the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

Morpheus kneels down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Yes. You don't need to worry about me." You tell him.

"I always worry about you." He admits. "I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't need to worry, really. You should have accepted the trade... you'd have had your helmet back by now."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are not a bargaining chip. You are my raven, my companion, my friend." His voice turns so soft as he speaks. You wished you could read the expression in his eyes.

"If anything happens to me, flee. Return to the Dreaming. If you stay there, Lucifer can not have you."

"No. I will not leave you." You sound determined. His lips twitch into a little smile.

"Always so loyal."

"You know it, Dream King. Now, kick some Devil ass and win. The sooner you do, the sooner we can go."

Morpheus smiles softly at you. He lifts his hand slowly, about to reach out and caress your cheek, but Lucifer's voice breaks the moment and he lowers his hand.

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again softly.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

Morpheus stands, and you sit up. You have your hands through the sleeves now, so you don't have to keep holding the coat together. You fasten a few buttons to hide your body.

Morpheus likes how you look in his coat, but he doesn't have time to admire your human form now.

He needs to secure your safety first.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You sit with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. You bite the inside of your cheek, a new and unfamiliar sensation to you. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You gasp and slide across the floor, placing a hand on his back. He looks up.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look up at him in awe.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You kneel beside him, hands placed on him gently. He tries to get up, but falls back down again.

"I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow, and it worries you.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You shield his body with your own and take his face in your hands gently.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me." You look at him so gently. Your touch is soft against his cold face. He can feel your thumb brush along his cheekbone.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream, who looks up at you. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You whisper to him.

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes. He sees the look in your eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams don't die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave me here alone with Lucifer. He would never leave me. Not when we just found each other again..."

He sees the way you look at him. That look sets something alight in him. He wants you to keep looking at him like that.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process. He returns to you. You stand on wobbly legs, still wrapped up in his coat.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away, grabbing your hand as he goes. You walk with him out of the castle, not daring to look back.

You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Far from the castle, you stand with Morpheus. He was still in his battle gear. You still had his coat wrapped around you. He looked at you and then at his helm.

He puts his helmet on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. You had obviously seen him wear it before, but it had been do long ago.

"I can. I can see the ruby."

You stand a little closer. Morpheus reaches out for you gently.

"Come here." He speaks softly.

You reach for his hand, but find yourself swept off your feet. Literally. Morpheus picks you up in his arm and holds you close to his chest. You look up at the helmet on his head.

"The sand, it's in my pocket. Get it for me."

You reach into the coat pocket and take the pouch out. He says nothing, but you understand what he wants. Carefully, you tip the pouch out into your other palm. Morpheus uses the sand to transport you out of Hell.

All the while keeping you in his arms.

You arrive at a storage house. Morpheus keeps you in his arms.

"Remove my helm."

You reach up and take his helmet off him, holding onto it carefully. He carries you to the door, refusing to put you down just yet. He takes you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He puts you down on a closed box nearby and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!" You hop off the box and hurry to his side. "Dream?" You scoop him up in your arms. He's unconscious. "Wake up. Please wake up..."

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him.

You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. In your current form, you can't fly back to the Dreaming, and you wouldn't dare use his sand without permission.

"Please get up." You whisper, holding head close to your chest. "Wake up, Morpheus..." You feel tears in your eyes.

"Please."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess -

[mercymaker]

the honey inside your hive - Halsin x Tav fic

Rating: E

Pairing: Halsin x female Tav

Word count: 2,4k

Content: smut, established relationship, post-game, drow tav, intercrural sex, oral, (sorta) size kink.

Summary: Halsin, unsurprisingly, is a bit too much for his lover to handle. However, the Hero of Baldur's Gate is nothing if not resourceful and finds a way around this hurdle, leading to a night of intense pleasure...

Link to AO3.

It was a surge of desire that made Maleane pull the druid into her bed. The same desire that pushed her fingers to hastily undress him. And it was nothing else but unbridled desire slipping out of her lips in waves of sultry words and heated kisses.

Halsin was more than happy to follow her lead, quickly moving behind her as she lay on her side, looking over her shoulder with nothing but lust burning behind her pale purple eyes. And his kisses soon turned just as fiery, his touches just as hungry as hers. Mal guided his hand, pulling it first to her breast—allowing the druid’s fingers to linger there for just a moment—and then pushing it down between her legs so he could feel just how desperately aroused she was.

All that passion soon rushed her own hand, and as the drow pushed her back against his chest—bending over just slightly to expose herself to him and make the rest of her plan more than obvious—she grasped his erection and guided it right to her entrance.

Yet, no matter how much she wanted it, how much she craved to feel him deep inside her, his size proved to be simply too much for her to handle. Even when Halsin moved slowly, doing everything in his power not to lose control and succumb to his primal instincts, discomfort soon turned to pain and as the sharp bite pierced her core, Maleane lurched forward, her hand quickly grasping his hips and pushing the man away from her.

“No, wait,” she whimpered. “It’s too much.”

Trying to recover from the unpleasant sensation, the drow ceased trying to accommodate his girth, instead moving forward enough to break the fragile connection they’d both tried to foster.

It was more than just frustrating. It was almost infuriating just how unfair it all seemed; how she couldn’t wholly enjoy whatever little pleasures the life had offered her. Those moments of desire, of true passion were so rare to begin with, glimmering little rubies constantly slipping out of her grasp and right into an endless pit of darkness, to be drowned in waves of sadness and despair before Maleane could even seize them. And yet, when she did manage to pull them out of the dark waters, they seemed more fragile than her psyche, destined to crumble under any pressure, a single wrong move. And tonight seemed to only foretell a handful of red dust slipping past Mal’s fingers.

She felt the druid’s lips press softly against her shoulder, lingering there for a moment before moving away.

“Forgive me, my love.” Halsin’s voice was soft and breathy, yet she could sense the strain behind it as his lust refused to dissipate. “Shall I soothe you instead? Or do you wish to stop?”

Maleane didn’t want neither of those things. As much as she enjoyed the wood elf’s way of worshiping her in bed, tonight it wasn’t his tongue that the sorcerer truly desired.

She craved something feral, her hunger calling for a thing that was primal and untamed. Maleane wished to be taken and mounted and claimed, to feel the beast behind the druid’s every touch, to be overwhelmed both in body and mind.

“No, no… I want you,” the drow finally uttered, her gaze soon finding his as she peered past her shoulder. “I want you to let go a little. Tonight I want to be yours.”

Maleane leaned backwards to kiss him, the passion bubbling inside her belly finding its way to her tongue and pouring straight into Halsin’s mouth as he met her lips with his own. It was electric, the way Mal made him feel—all the restraint and control he had exhibited before chipping at the edges with her every touch.

“You want it as well, don’t you?” Maleane parted their lips for just a second, the druid’s sweet and salty taste lingering in her mouth.

He couldn’t help but smile in response, the answer to her question dangling on the edge of his tongue too obvious.

Of course, he wanted it. As he held the sorceress close, Halsin wished for nothing more than to have her, to let go of the thorny tangle in his mind that constantly dictated what to do and how to act. It was a call—as natural as the flowing rivers, as pure the flowers of the field unfurling their petals—one he craved to embrace with his very being.

And when Mal reached back behind her and wrapped her long fingers around his shaft, Halsin couldn’t help but grunt in response. All of her fiery kisses, the hungry touches that he’d received from her before they even had the chance to reach the bed were filling his glass to the brim, fogging his vision and numbing his mind. It was the added pressure from her hand that turned his last resolve into smoke in the wind.

Halsin pushed his hips forward, chasing the tight grip of her hand as his fingers greedily reached for the drow’s body, sinking into the soft flesh of her bottom with untamed yearning. No matter how close they were, how warm and soft Maleane’s skin felt under his grip, the druid wanted more. He felt like a bear holding a hive between his sharp claws, eager to tear it open just so he could taste the sweet honey inside. How could he resist such a temptation?

Instead, he tasted her lips once more, tongue searching for the sweetness inside her mouth. And yet, even that seemed like it wasn’t sufficient. Halsin craved her warmth, the delighted moans that roused in her throat when he pleased her, that enveloping feeling of closeness when he was inside her. Even when he moved his massive hand to her jaw—just so he could deepen their kiss, have her closer to him than before—it simply wasn’t enough.

“Mal, my heart, I want you,” the druid whispered, the strain and desperation behind his words unmistakable. “I need you.”

She felt a puff of hot air roll against the back of her neck as Halsin let out a low growl, and then, his fingers curled around her hips, nails digging into the gray skin with rising hunger. Despite her best attempts to satisfy his craving with her hand, Maleane sensed that her efforts were simply falling short against the increasing urge taking over the man’s body and mind.

“What if we tried this?” Mal asked, trying to draw the druid’s attention away from the lustful trance that was slowly consuming him.

As Halsin opened his eyes to look at Maleane, his gaze was met with a cheeky smile on her face before she turned away and hastily slid her hips backwards until her ass was pressed flush against his erection. Yet, instead of trying the same strategy as they had employed before, this time, the sorcerer had a different plan in her mind. She lifted her leg just enough to put her hand underneath it, so she could easily guide Halsin’s cock into the warm crevice between her dewy thighs. And once Mal could feel the stiffness of him pressing against her soft flesh, she closed her legs and pressed them together tightly, crossing her feet to create as much friction as possible. The drow dragged her fingers against the slimy surface of her tongue, licking the tips, leaving a dripping film of spit on them before she found his length again, gently massaging the head as it protruded from right underneath the spot where her legs met.

Maleane didn’t need to hear his words to know that her lover was more than satisfied with the idea, as Halsin immediately responded with another low rumble stirring in his chest and his hips jolted almost involuntarily, desperately seeking relief to all that pressure building up in his core. And soon, the elf’s movements grew sharper, the rolling of his hips becoming frenzied and erratic.

“Yes, love, yes. Let go, just like that…” Mal whispered as she turned her head to the side to face him.

Instead of meeting his hazel orbs, the drow witnessed a sweeter sight: the druid’s eyes shut tightly, brow furrowed, his upper teeth peeking through the small gap as he pressed them against the bottom lip. It was more than clear that the man was getting lost in the sensation, the intense pleasure that fucking her thighs was providing. He could finally allow himself to break free from all the restraint that he simply had to shackle himself with in order not to hurt his lover, yet the craving that had been locked behind it remained, growing with every touch, every kiss, every time Maleane offered him the sweet honey inside her hive.

Halsin couldn’t get enough of that sensation—how warm her skin felt against his, how delicious she tasted when he put his mouth on her, how pleasant her scent was when he inhaled—feeling as if his appetite grew deeper the more he’d tried to sate it. But this time, he didn’t have to resist it, instead leaning into that call and following his instinct, rolling his hips into her with fervor, losing himself in the saccharine warmth of her thighs.

The harder his thrusts grew, the more Halsin leaned into her, soon forcing Mal to put her hands on the bed as they both veered forward, his hairy chest almost pressing her into the sheets. The wood elf grasped her hips from underneath, pushing his fingers into the soft gray flesh as he pulled her closer, holding her lower body in place. It felt so warm and tight and good, the way her thighs enveloped his cock, how both of them were growing wet from all the pleasure and desire engulfing them like a flame.

He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, breathing her scent in as if it were an aphrodisiac, allowing himself to take and take and claim her, the way the animals of the forest would their mate.

It was exactly what Maleane craved tonight—to have the beast she knew had been hiding inside him all these months, to be overwhelmed by such desire, such ferocity—and Halsin was more than rewarding. As the druid angled her hips against his, the drow felt his length brush against her wet folds, sending a moan bursting right out of her mouth.

“Mmm, yes, Hal- Halsin…” Mal’s voice was shaky and uneven as the intensity of the act swiftly seized her body like a fist.

Every single sensation—from the way his body radiated heat to his hulking weight pressing her down into the bed to the slippery friction sending jolts of bliss up her body—was like a wave after a wave of pure thrill cascading against her very being, suffocating any tameless thoughts in her mind that threatened to pry that glittering ruby out of her hands.

And soon, Maleane heard yet another low growl slip past the druid’s teeth—the deep rumble in his chest sending vibrations through her pale gray back—as his fingers dug even deeper into the pliable flesh of her hips. She felt his heavy cock twitch between her thighs as Halsin spilled himself over her, the surge of seed dripping hot on her damp skin.

It only took a couple of moments for the druid to recover from his peak and right as he came back to his senses, the beast leapt out of their bed and the ever-considerate, gentle giant returned in its stead. As the bliss slowly dissipated from his body, Halsin shifted backwards, moving carefully to make sure that Mal wasn’t in any discomfort or pain.

For just a brief moment, he had truly lost himself in the pleasure and the freedom that his lover had so generously provided, that now he feared he’d truly crushed the honeycomb between his claws just to taste the sweet liquid inside.

And yet, when he carefully moved his hand to touch her face—to check up on her—Maleane turned her head back with a soft smile growing on her lips.

“Just what you needed, mm?” Mal smirked then, satisfied with the way she had managed to draw something entirely feral out of him.

Months ago such a prospect would have surely terrified her. Allowing this towering elf—who could easily break her spine into pieces without breaking a sweat—let go of all that restraint, especially in bed, had seemed like an idea she would never accept. And yet, right now, the thought alone sent nothing but excitement through her body, causing her to bite her lip.

“More than that, my love,” Halsin replied.

Despite the usual softness that was so true to him returning, there was a certain breathlessness to his voice that betrayed the traces of desire that still lingered within him. He cupped her cheek and leaned in close to kiss her, as if to thank her for giving him such a sweet treat that he’d never even dared to ask for.

“I made such a mess of you,” he continued, his hand moving to the side of her thigh, where streaks of wetness glistened like golden chains in the flickering candlelight. “Let me take care of that.”

Seeing where his attention was moving, Mal chuckled in agreement, pleased to to find out that she was getting her own sweet treat after already enjoying a bountiful meal.

As Halsin moved between her legs, Maleane lay down on her back, shoving one of the few pillows underneath her head and getting comfortable as his hands pushed her thighs apart. He moved slowly—with patience that had seemed to not exist in his arsenal just a few minutes ago—placing his lips in the middle of her gray thigh, kissing a line up with eagerness, tongue gliding against the wetness as if he was tasting fresh honey.

Mal closed her eyes, the comfort of knowing exactly what was in store for her covering her like the softest silk cloak. And as the druid’s tongue pushed her folds apart with nothing but devotion dancing at its tip, Maleane was sure that no matter what sort of beast she could unleash in their shared bed, there was enough trust between them to ensure that he could never truly harm her. Not with the way he was touching her now, not with the way his mouth was soothing whatever traces of past discomfort he had given her.

[honorarysimp]

Interlude: The Diner

series masterlist

Out of everywhere in town you’ve been since you arrived two weeks ago, this is the only place you’ve truly felt safe.

The diner was a blast from the past, a relic of a time long gone. The checkered linoleum floor worn and scuffed in places, and vinyl-covered booths gave the place a retro feel, while the crackled and faded wallpaper added a touch of nostalgia.

The smell of stale coffee and fried food hung in the air, adding a distinct atmosphere to the place.

The diner was dimly lit, the fluorescent tubes above the counter casting a harsh, almost clinical light over the small space. In one corner, an old radio played quiet music, the sound barely reaching a few booths in the room.

You are currently sat in a booth towards the back, visibly exhausted beyond measure as you nurse a cup of black coffee.

Coffee is suppose to be the answer to everything, but you’ve had to reconvey your initial claim the last week.

Your phone suddenly rings loudly in the quiet diner, the sharp sound causing you to flinch, jarring and breaking the ambiance like a hammer against glass. You glance down at the screen, expression darkening as you saw the word "Mayor" flash across the display.

With a heavy exhale, you let the call ring through to voicemail. The Mayor was the last person you want to deal with at the moment. You’re frustrated and exhausted, as this investigation seems to be leading nowhere.

Why answer her when you have nothing to report? She knows where to find you if she’s that desperate for results.

You reach into your coat pocket and retrieved your tape recorder. You lay it on the worn tabletop and looked at it for a moment with a slight grimace.

You hesitate before starting the recording, the weight of your lack of progress weighing heavily on you. With a weary sigh, you hit the record button and began speaking, voice low and tired.

"It's been two weeks since I arrived here, and so far, I've got nothing. No leads, no suspects, just a whole lot of dead ends."

You continue, your voice growing more frustrated as you detail your efforts thus far.

"I've tried everything," you admit, hand running through your hair in exasperation. "Witness interviews, forensic analysis, even digging through records going back decades. But every time I think I'm onto something, it just leads nowhere."

You lean back in the booth, shoulders slouched in exhaustion. "It's like this town is intentionally keeping secrets."

You pause for a moment, expression thoughtful.

"The people here," you begin, voice a bit softer. "They're just as much victims as anyone. I've started to get to know some of them, and they're just trying to live their lives. But then there's this..."

You trail off, expression conflicted. You knew you’ve always tried to be logical and professional when it comes to your job, ruled by rationality and evidence. But this case is pushing your boundaries, forcing you to question your own beliefs.

"Maybe... maybe there's no logical explanation," you admit, voice barely a whisper “the only thing that’s consistent is the fact one person goes missing a month, but even that doesn’t make sense because it stops and starts randomly- goddamn it.”

You hit the pause button on the tape recorder, frustrated. You sit back, the silence in the diner somehow making the weight of the case even heavier.

You sat for a moment, eyes unfocused as you mull over everything that has happened in the last two weeks. The disappearances, the dead ends, the strange events... everything about this case was slowly chipping away at your certainty, your usual rational mind struggling to find footing.

You start the tape recorder again, voice weary but determined.

"The attack in the woods," you began. "I've tried to make sense of it, but it just doesn't add up. The masked figure came out of nowhere, silently and unexpectedly. The knife cut me, but there was no blood, no trace of any kind at the scene. And even after searching, there were no footprints or tracks of any kind. Nothing."

You trail off, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "It's like the assault never even happened."

You again continued, tense with disbelief. "And then there's Wes," you say, shaking your head. "He just vanishes after walking into the lake. We've searched the lake more times than I can count, and we haven't found a body. Nothing. It's like he just vanished into thin air."

Your frustration and confusion becomes more and more evident the more you spoke, the mystery of the case growing more complex with each passing moment as you verbally try to debunk it aloud. "It makes no sense," you mutter, raking a hand through your hair once more, knee bouncing in a fidget underneath the table.

You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm your frustration. "The disappearances, the attack, the lack of any solid evidence... everything about this case just feels wrong. Like there's something bigger going on, something just out of my grasp.”

You look down at the tape recorder, brow furrowed. "But how do I solve something when I can't even see all the pieces? How do I find answers when everything I've tried leads to more questions?"

You sat slumped in the booth, gaze unfocused as you wrestle with your thoughts. "I need... I need..." you repeat in a low voice, frustration and desperation mingling in your tone.

I need a fucking cigarette.

You clench your fists, refocusing on trying to piece together the elusive clues in your mind. "I need something decisive, something concrete," you continue, eyes sweeping over the steam rising from your mug as if the answers were etched within the small bubbles resting on the liquid’s surface.

You let out a heavy sigh, the frustration etched on your face. You reach out and hit the pause button, shutting off the tape recorder.

You lean back in the booth once again, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. The weight of the case hung heavily on you, the lack of progress a crushing disappointment. Never has a case had you so in the weeds before, you should have something by now.

"I need to find something," you mutter to yourself, jaw clenched. "I can't keep spinning my fucking wheels like this."

You rest your elbows to the table for a moment, rubbing a hand over your face as if trying to scrub away the fatigue and temporary defeat. Everything about this case was getting under your skin, the lack of progress wearing on your already frayed nerves.

The Diner's bell jangled as someone entered, causing you to look up from your thoughts. Your gaze lands on Tara of all people, who had just walked in.

You register the first responder uniform she is wearing, coming to the conclusion that she must be working the night shift. Or just got off it, depending on what time it is, that of which you aren’t sure. Your eyes lingered on her for a moment, taking in her tired but determined expression.

Her head turns and you’re already meeting her gaze, a pause between you, and then you silently gesturing for her to join you. You see the hesitation on her face, the fatigue and worry that mirrored your own. But after a moment, she relents and walks over to the booth, sliding into the seat opposite you.

“Hey” you start softly, watching her take your coffee mug off the table and take a small whiff before taking a sip.

You don’t question it.

“Nothing yet on our end, you?”

You shake your head, “even if we did, I’m sure Sam would be the first one to let you know.”

Tara nods, and you both fall silent.

The one waitress that seems to be working tonight walks over, she gives you both a kind smile.

“You’re working late tonight, Cici” Tara says politely, which makes the woman laugh good naturely.

“I could say the same to you, coffee?”

“Please.”

She scribbles it down, glancing back up “and the usual?”

Another nod from Tara, which then has Cici’s gaze going to you expectantly.

“I’m still doing okay with just coffee-“

“The Detective will have what I’m having Cici, thank you” Tara cuts you off, making Cici glance between you knowingly as she jots the order down and heads off without another word.

You look to Tara and narrow your eyes, but she beats you to it before you can speak.

“I wish you’d stop making assumptions about me, you know.”

A pause, you reach across the table for your mug but she pulls it from your reach.

There’s a good chance Tara is talking about the last conversation you two had before you found Wes and Chad, but of course you’d hate to assume.

So you wait for her to continue, after a moment her expression softens slightly and she nudges your coffee mug back across the table to you.

“For what it’s worth, I’m rightfully in the same boat. Worrying certain people are only around for information, for wanting to know things rather than-“ she stops, clearing her throat.

That’s when you get it. The hot and cold.

“Look… I’ve never once been dishonest with you, I’ve got no reason to be” you start slowly, giving your still aching shoulder a little roll before reaching across the table to accept your mug back.

“But-“ you pause, as your fingers brush against hers, neither of you acknowledge it as you pull the coffee mug back to your side “unfortunately that’s the one thing I’m under contract not to tell you, which is who hired me. You already know why I’m here, and if there’s one thing I can promise you is that I’m not using you for any reason.”

She is clearly skeptical, you can tell by the way she looks at you. But you can also see that slight softness between her brow, like she wants to believe you.

You sip your coffee, sitting it to the side before placing your palms flat on the table top, “ask me anything you want, no pool games, no deals, no trades, no bullshit. And then I’ll do the same.”

That look returns, the one Tara gave you a week ago when you’d asked her out for drinks.

“You still are trying to pick my brain” Tara says with an amused tone, you offer a smile and shrug.

“I wanna know you, is that so hard to believe?” You say as you nudge your coffee mug back over to her, a silent offer.

Tara eyes you, then the mug, then you again. She’s fighting back a smile, something you’ve noticed she does a lot with you. In a way you consider it a win, because it means she’s starting to like you even when she doesn’t want to.

“Fine” she agrees, pushing the coffee mug back across the table to you before crossing her arms, “but you’re on thin ice hot shot.”

You grin, trying not to feel triumphant for finally managing to somewhat get through to her.

“First things first, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

The disapproving look Tara gives you makes you laugh harder than it should, which in return, makes her smile more than she should.

And for the first time in a while, a sense of normalcy envelops you both. It won’t last, but for now, it’s nice.

previous, next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You could say it’s Jonathan who convinced you to walk into that bar but it didn’t really take much. Anything to delay your return home is welcome. You’re grateful to your parents for taking you in, yet you can’t help but feel a little dejected all the same. You didn’t exactly return home to fanfare. 

Jonathan holds the door and you give him a look. He acts as if he doesn’t notice but you catch the glint of his blue eyes. 

“Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll get the drinks?” He offers, “if I recall, you were a fan of Grey Goose–” 

“Oh god no, I can’t handle the headache,” you snort. 

“Ah, I see you’ve converted, pint?” He insists, 

“A glass of wine will do,” you insist, “riesling or sauvignon.” 

“Sophisticated,” he muses. 

“Relax, I usually get it in a box.” 

He smirks and turns towards the bar. You look around and claim a table against the wall, just beneath a vintage show poster for some long forgotten band. You sit and place your purse against the wooden paneling. 

You circle your thumb around your fingertip as you stare at the table. The finish is worn and a few slivers are missing along the edge. What are you doing here? Not just at this table in this bar, but in this town. You always said you would never come back. Now look at you. 

Embarrassment tendrils up your neck. You remember how loudly you proclaimed that very sentiment, every day since you turned sixteen. To the very man you came in here with. 

Jonathan finds you before you can descend too quickly into self-pity. He sits and puts a stemmed glass in front of you, a tall dark pint for himself. You reach for your purse. 

“How much do I owe you? There’s an ATM–” 

“My treat, as a congratulations.” 

You scrunch your lips then quickly slacken them, recalling how it deepens the lines around them, “what are you up to?” 

“I can’t be happy for you.” 

“Please, it’s been a long time but things haven’t changed that much.” 

“I have,” he insists, his voice deepening to a note that catches you offguard. You hide the slow realisation as it dawns; he is far from the stringy teen or the obnoxious coed… he’s a man and yet you don’t feel much different than that lost sixteen year old with the chip on her shoulder. 

“Did I never apologise for that molasses incident?” 

“Incident? Don’t try to act innocent,” you laugh. The first time you’ve truly done so in months. Looking back, those years weren’t as bad as they felt as you lived them. “I still can’t stand the smell.” 

He smirks and guiltily looks down at the table, “I was a little bastard.” 

“So you say but I still don’t hear an apology,” you chide, “it is what it is. It was years ago.” 

“Well, if it counts for anything, I do regret it,” he meets your eye. 

“If that’s your biggest regret then I think you’re doing just fine.” 

“Definitely not the biggest,” he lifts his glass and holds it out, “cheers to you.” 

You hesitate but clink the wine glass against the tall pint. You drink nearly half the glass before you remember to stop. You haven’t drank since the night it all imploded. You mad a point of it. Plus, your mother locked her wine away. 

You put the glass down and turn it slowly by its base, “sorry, I’m not much fun. I’m sure Jaydon will be up for some drinks later. You could even break out the beer pong.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Your mouth pinches again. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” He asks. 

“Molasses…” you mutter. 

He laughs and shakes his head, “I will forever atone for that one,” he sits back, his hand against the side of his glass, “you don’t realise, you were always the cool older sister.” 

“Please,” you roll your eyes. 

“You were. Jaydon is Jaydon. He can’t see beyond his own nose but… well, I’m an only child, I didn’t have anyone to scare away my bullies.” 

“Yeah, well, as much as I could smack Jaydon myself, that idiot was a bit obsessed, wasn’t he?” 

He tilts his head, “he has no idea how lucky he is. None of them do.” 

“Alright, Jonathan, I can’t take any more. I didn't come for a pity party.” 

“That’s not what this is.” 

“You know.” 

“I know?” He wonders. 

“I’m not stupid. I’m pathetic, sure. I hear my mother telling all her friends on the phone. I’m sure you’ve heard everything. It’s shitty. I lost my boyfriend and my job and my overpriced apartment and now I’m back here. And you and Jaydon have lives to go back to,” you gulp and raise your glass, swallow down the wine with your bubbling emotions, “I don’t need any more reminders.” 

He watches you put down the empty glass. He stares at it before he looks you in the face, “I’ve heard what they have to say but it doesn’t mean I believe them. It’s hearsay.” 

“It’s what happened. I am not the cool older sister, I’m the fuck up.” 

He leans forward and slowly reaches for your wine glass, “and what have you heard about me, hm? How do you know I haven’t fucked up?” 

You look at him and gesture emphatically, “come on.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he stands, “and pay you back with another glass.” 

Before you can argue, he’s on his way to the bar. The tinge of wine sticks to your tongue as you watch his confident march. As you examine the way the fabric of his button down strains between his shoulders blades, you blanch. You turn straight and once more lower your eyes to the table. 

No. No. It’s Jonathan. It’s your brother’s friend. It’s that skinny, reedy kid who drove you insane. You’re just lost. You’re not thinking straight. You're fresh off heartbreak, you’re not even through it. You don’t want him, you just don’t want to be alone. 

He returns and you clear your throat, fixing your posture as you smile at him. He sets a full glass in front of you. Once more, your hand is on your purse, “alright, you have to let me get this one.” 

“You can buy my next pint,” he gives a slanted grin, “I must warn you, I’m rather easy once I see the bottom of the glass.” 

You laugh, “be careful.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, darling,” the last word flutters through you, “I’ve grown, I can handle myself.” He takes his glass again and hovers it before his lips as his winks, “and you.” 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Image Inducer AU

Kara does go back to the facility. Something about the stranger's earnestness, her fear and desperation, strikes a nerve. Against Alex's warnings, Kara visits again, weeks later.

By then, Lena's situation has worsened. Her attempts to escape and increased desperation have upped her meds and security level, leaving her in a secure ward and frequently restrained. More than that, the shrink she's assigned has been chipping away at Lena's certainty in her identity.

With her own face a stranger even to her, and a distinct lack of explanation for the change, Lena finds it more and more difficult to find ways to navigate around the shrink's logic. Lena's sense of reality slowly erodes.

By the time of Kara's next visit, Lena has discounted her as a potential ally, and her hope is gone, seemingly resigned to her fate. After long minutes of silence between them, Lena laughs to herself.

"What?" Kara asks.

"Lex finally did it," Lena says mirthlessly, despite the wry smile grimacing on her lips. "He's murdered me."

"You're right here," Kara reminds her.

"I'm alive," Lena concedes dully, "but Lena Luthor is dead."

---

After Kara leaves for the second time, nothing but pity in her eyes, Lena falls into despair. She stops fighting, stops shouting her claims for all to hear. No one will listen, so what's the point?

But every so often, her mind finds a spark of life through the haze drugs.

In a sudden burst of renewed hope, Lena cajoles a nurse to let her make a phone call. Kara answers despite the familiar number.

"Hello?"

"There's an EMP device in my vault," Lena murmurs in a hushed tone, hyper aware of the ears listening in. "Small enough to fit in your pocket. I need you to get it and bring it here."

Kara scoffs. "I am NOT breaking into Lena's vault for you."

Lena scowls into the phone. "Funny, you had no qualms asking James to do it."

That stops Kara in her tracks. "H-how do you know about that?"

"How do you think?" Lena hisses. She huffs in frustration. "Just do it. If I'm right, the pulse will render the image inducer inert and you'll see the truth for yourself."

"You've been examined multiple times, you aren't wearing an inducer--"

"I know that! Just-- if you've ever trusted Lena Luthor, just do this for me."

Against every better sense Kara has, she does it. She finds the device, tucks it in her pocket, and then makes her way to Star City. Once there, she steps into the visitation room, finding it empty save the one person she's here to see, still a stranger to her eyes.

The stranger turns her gaze up at her entrance, her eyes darting to Kara's hands, casually tucked into her pockets. When Kara doesn't reveal the device, the woman's shoulders slump with defeat. She says nothing.

Kara activates the device.

In an instant, the face before her blinks out of existence, revealing features that are, while hollowed by her ordeal, undeniably Lena's.

Shock floods Kara, stopping the world for a long moment before reality snaps back into place.

"Oh my god."

Her utterance pulls Lena's gaze back to her, and green eyes widen with hope, then fill with tears of relief. "Kara..."

"Lena!" Kara closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her friend in a fierce hug. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should have believed you."

"Even I was starting not to believe it," Lena says tearfully, voice thick. When Kara pulls back to study her, drinking in every inch of her face, Lena's lips pinch together as a sob threatens to burst from her chest.

"Please," she begs. "Get me out of here."

[goosewriting]

The turtles get walked in on by the reader as they were talking to April about how bad they got it for the for them, and theirs just an awkward silence from the April so the turtle slowly turns around to see the reader and April slowly leaves the two. Theirs a little awkward chat and the reader says to meet them up on a rooftop. Meanwhile the turtles freaking out wondering how they're gonna be let down. They meet on the roof and the turtle trys to explain themselves until the reader quickly stops them and holds their hands its a really cute confession for both of them thank you 💗💗 your writing is so good 😌👍🏾 I love everything that you made so far

Rooftops and confessions (rottmnt x reader)

summary: reader overhears turtle talking to April about his crush on them.

relationship: Rise Leo, Raph, Mikey Donnie x GN reader

warnings: fluff!, first kisses (except Donnie), idiots in love

word count: 4.2k

A/N: as i was writing i noticed i went in some directions that i had gotten asks for! so i decided to combine a bunch :3 sorry that some are longer than others; I partially wrote this on a train lol thank you for the kind words, anons<3 i really hope you’ll like these; raph’s is my fave piece of him i’ve written so far :D for reasons, this takes place not long before the movie. enjoy >:’) 

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You were happily skipping into the lair; it was movie night and you just returned from a successful snack hunt. Aside from everyone’s favourite candy and chips, you had also found a rare brand that you loved but didn’t find everywhere, so of course you bought as many as you could fit into your backpack. You couldn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction to it and hoped they’d love it as much as you did.

Upon entering the lair you made your way towards the kitchen, where you heard some voices. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but managed to catch the last part of the conversation.

“…this is getting out of hand, I think I’m actually gonna explode tonight”, one of the brothers spoke.

“Why don’t you just confess to Y/n already?” April retorted, slightly exasperated. 

“What? Look at me. They would never-“ His sentence ended abruptly as you walked through the open door. The enthusiasm in your step had you turning the corner and walking into the room with such speed that even if you had wanted to stop at the door when hearing those words, you wouldn't have been able to. 

The turtle stood a couple of steps away, April in front of him but facing away from you, so she hadn’t seen you enter. His eyes had gone big as dinner plates when he saw you, a blush starting to cover his whole face.

“They would never what? I’m sure they’re the least person to care ab-!” April wasn’t able to finish her sentence as the turtle hastily turned her around by the shoulders, so that she could finally see you.

“Y/n, you’re back!” April greeted you with a loud, somewhat forced laugh. Seeing that you had brought the food, she took everything you were carrying, and scurried off to the projector room, claiming she was gonna set it up. And just like that you two were left alone. 

“So, uh, how much did you hear?” the turtle asked after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence. He wasn’t able to look you in the eye.

“Enough, I guess…” you answered, your brain going a thousand miles a minute.

Enough to figure out what’s going on and realising you feel the same as me, is what you meant.

Enough to be kinda grossed out by you, and I hope we never talk again, is what he understood.

Realising that if you didn’t solve this right now, the whole movie evening would be super awkward and weird, you decided you had to take the matter into your own hands. Averting your eyes to the side, you told him without an explanation to meet you on the roof of that one shop you usually go to (it’s just across the lair entrance and has a nice view from up top), and left. So now you were gone as well and the turtle was left alone in the kitchen with his mind running. He inhaled sharply, brought his hands to his face and groaned loudly. 

While the poor guy was mentally and emotionally preparing himself to be rejected by his favourite person in the world, you were hastingly making your way to the roof, trying to calm your erratic breathing and crazy heart, because you had actually been crushing on him so hard for some time now, too.

Once on the roof, you paced back and forth along the railing, replaying the conversation from before in your mind. On one side you couldn’t help the goofy smile spreading on your face because your crush liked you back, apparently. On the other hand you also heard him say “look at me” in a derogatory way. Did he really think you didn’t find him physically attractive because he was a mutant? 

Just as you were trying to find the best way to word your feelings, you heard the ladder clattering behind you under the weight of a certain turtle. 

🔵 Leo

Leo approached you with some sort of sad determination. He was barely able to keep his smug façade, and it kinda broke your heart. You’d have to clear things up as quickly as possible.

“So… what’s up?” Leo asked with a nod. He stood a couple of steps away from you, so as to not get into your space, and crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive manner.

“I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop earlier, Leo” you explained. “I just really wanted to get back to all of you with the food. You said something that has me a little curious though.” You tried to give him the most genuine and non-judging look you could. “After telling April to look at you, you said that I would never… something. What were you gonna say?”

Leo grimaced and sighed, deflating a little. He turned to the side, holding onto the railing with both hands. You mirrored him, so now you both stood facing the bustling city. After some moments of just looking at nothing, he spoke.

“April was telling me to ask you out. I’ve actually liked you for a while now. Like, a lot.” He stole a quick glance at you to gauge your reaction. “But it’s obvious you’d never be interested in a mutant turtle, so I understand if you don’t wanna hang out anymore or something.” The last part he said with a bit of a bite to his voice. Probably not directed at you, but at himself.

“Ah, but you see, Leonardo, that’s where you’re wrong” you said, closing the distance to stand right next to him. Gently you pulled on his arm to turn him so you were facing each other. The gesture and the use of his full name had him all kinds of confused, but he didn’t dare to pull away.

“Before coming to such conclusions you should have consulted with me first, you know. For the record, I like what I see” you added, giving him a quick once-over, referring to him being a mutant. As your words started weighing in on him, Leo’s eyes grew bigger and bigger, an adorable blush adorning his cheeks. He eagerly awaited for you to continue, but you were actually waiting for him to say the magic words, so you guessed he needed just a little bit more encouragement. “I don’t want to take the chance from you because I just know that if I do, you’ll never let me live it down. So, go ahead Leo. Ask me.” you told him. In a rush of adrenaline and boldness, you moved down your hand, which was still on his arm, and took his hand in yours. You could have sworn you saw his breath hitch.

Leo’s last brain cell had exited the chat the moment you had touched his arm, so while he knew what you wanted from him, and he damn well also wanted it himself, he was unable to produce a sound. You patiently waited, slightly amused at how you could see the figurative gears in his head turning at ungodly speeds, and smiled at him expectantly. 

The lights of the city reflected on your skin, enveloping your figure in an almost surreal aura in Leo’s eyes, and his other hand came up to cup your face. You flinched slightly in surprise, but were quick to lean into his touch to reassure him. You were so beautiful, smart, generous. How in the world did he end up here like this with you? 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead, his insecurities suddenly getting the best of him.

“What do you mean?” you retorted, slightly confused. Had you misunderstood him?

“Well, I know I can be a lot. And honestly you’re way out of my league” Leo said with a sad smile. “I’m moody and get distracted easily, always make a game out of everything. You deserve better…” He started withdrawing his hand from your cheek, but you grabbed onto his wrist and held it in place, also giving his other hand a squeeze.

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” you said with furrowed brows, and started rambling, unable to stop yourself, trying to get through that thick skull of his. “I’d like to think that by now I know you, Leo. And I know you can be cocky and impulsive and kind of a flirt. But I also know just as well how big of a heart you have; you’d probably sacrifice yourself for someone else without a second thought. I know how funny and laidback you can be, but you know how to be serious as well when it matters.” You removed your hand from his wrist and placed it on his chest, looking at him with almost pleading eyes. “I like your voice, your stripes, your corny pick-up lines. I like all of you Leo, in and out, and I want it all for myself.”

Leo just stood there, looking at you in awe and disbelief. Is that really how you felt about him? And all this time he had held back from making a move. With a smile and a light scoff, he just kept looking at you, memorising every detail of your face, glowing in the city lights. 

Since he still wasn’t responding, you gave him a light push. 

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging here…” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks as you had just confessed all of that to him. Leo savoured the moment just a little more, then decided he had made you wait long enough. 

“If that’s really how you feel, then will you go out with me?” he finally asked. Your eager ‘Finally! Yes!’, combined with your words from before, filled up his ego again; it was now bursting. Giving you his signature cocky smirk, his body language changed completely. Letting go of your hand, he grabbed onto your waist instead and pulled you closer. The hand on your cheek ended up at the back of your head, in your hair. The soft look in his gaze shifted, now looking at you hungrily.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now” Leo whispered, and you felt your body go up in flames.

“Do it, coward” you further provoked him. 

Leo dipped his head, capturing your lips in his. The first kiss was chaste but lingering and full of longing. He pulled back ever so slightly and went back in again, this time slanting his mouth for a better angle and deepening the kiss. He pulled you impossibly closer against him and your hands wandered up from his chest to his neck, as you held his face. 

Let’s just say movie night was long forgotten as you two finally were able to show each other how much you both had waited for this moment. 

🔴 Raph

Raph approached you the way big or tall people walk when they’re trying to make themselves smaller, which made your chest tighten in pain. Your feelings for this turtle were astronomical, he should be walking with his head held high and chest puffed out. Just you wait until I tell you, you thought, already knowing you’d very much enjoy the facial expressions you were about to witness.

There were a couple of big wooden crates on the roof, and you gestured for him to sit on one. You took a seat across from him, cross-legged, trying to seem relaxed so he’d be more at ease, and not like you were scared of him or something. 

“I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop earlier, Raph” you explained. “I just really wanted to get back to all of you with the food. You said something that has me a little curious though.” You tried to give him the most genuine and non-judging look you could. “After telling April to look at you, you said that I would never… something. What were you gonna say?”

Raph gave a dry chuckle, daring to look at you as if to see if you were serious. Seeing that you were earnestly waiting for his response, he hung his head low in embarrassment.

“I was gonna say you would never date someone who looks like… this” Raph said, gesturing to himself with one hand, before resting his arm on his knee again. “April was telling me to ask you out, but I knew there’s zero chance you’d agree, so… I wanted to save us both the hassle of going through that.”

“Raph” you called his name, and waited for him to lift his head to meet your eyes. To his surprise, you were not looking at him in disgust, but with pure adoration.

“All of this”, you said, gesturing to him like he did before, “Mwah!” You made a chef’s kiss gesture, bringing your fingers together to your lips, then opening your hand. “And the person and soul behind it? Even more so.”

Raph blinked once, twice. No response. You smiled. 

“What I’m trying to say, Raph, is April was right. You should have asked me out, while you could.”

This confused Raph even more. While he could? Was it too late now? Was there… someone else?

Deciding that you had tortured this poor boy enough, you shook your head slightly in amusement, smiling to yourself. You got off the crate, coming to stand in front of Raph. With him sitting, you were now on eye-level. You brought your hands up to gingerly hold his face and brushed over his cheekbones with your thumbs. You saw him straighten up and inhale sharply, as his cheeks turned darker and darker, his eyes unable to look away from yours.

“I like you too, you green, spiky doofus” you confessed. “So now, I am asking you: will you be my boyfriend?”

The turtle was completely frozen where he sat, not moving a single muscle. After a few seconds of silence, you squished his cheeks a little.

“Raph, I want you to be my boyfriend. …Are you gonna make me beg?” Still no response. Now you had done it, Raph.exe had stopped working entirely. Letting go of his face, you took a step back and turned to leave. “Too bad; had you said yes, you would have gotten a kiss…”

“W-Wait!” he yelled, and grabbed your waist, pulling you back towards him. As he finally snapped back to reality, he underestimated the force of his action, and instead of just turning you around to face him again, he fully pulled you towards him, so that you were now standing between his legs, chests almost touching. This caught you by surprise as well and you held onto his shoulders for balance. Now your blush was rivalling his.

“That’s not fair; I wanted to be the one to ask!” Raph protested with a laugh. “You know I want to say yes, but… Are you sure? I’m not exactly easy on the eyes.” His gaze started shifting away from yours, so you once again held his face, this time with more confidence, and made him look at you. 

“Is your skull as thick as your shell?” You asked rhetorically, not in a scolding tone but more in a playful manner. “Listen carefully, Rapahel, and dutifully absorb this information into your brain: You are as handsome as you are green. I like how you care about your brothers, how you always protect everyone and lead responsibly. I like how selfless you are. I like that you can take a joke, but that you know how to take things seriously. I like how you can both be tender and gentle, as well as strong and unbreakable. I feel safe and acknowledged around you. The fact that this amazing person before me came in the body of a giant turtle is just the cherry on top of everything else.”

Raph was completely speechless. He had hung onto every word, and you saw his eyes starting to gloss over. You had just poured out your entire heart to him, and he needed you to know that he felt the same way about you. Even so he was unable to come up with a response on the spot that could come even close to what you had just said, and he started racking his brain for something, anything.

You didn’t take his silence as something negative. Heck, if someone just dumped all of this on you out of nowhere, you’d also be at a loss for words. He needed to process it. Even though you knew this, you couldn’t resist any longer.

“To sum it up: I see you, Raph” you added, and started getting closer. “And I like what I see.”

With that you closed the distance between the two with a kiss. For a second he didn’t react, then you felt his shoulders slump as he sighed into the kiss, tilting his head to the side and fully wrapping his arms around you.

When you finally broke for air, you couldn’t help but pepper him with little kisses on his jaw, the corner of his mouth and the tip of his snout, which made him giggle. For a moment you just stood there looking at each other, taking in everything that had just happened. 

“For the record, I do want to be your boyfriend” he finally said with a laugh, realising he hadn’t actually given you a proper answer.

“Well, after all that, I’d sure hope so!” you replied with a laugh of your own.

🟠 Mikey

Mikey got up to the roof with a million thoughts. He had no idea how to approach this, how to approach you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted you and cringed at how forcefully peppy he sounded, given the conversation from before. You went to sit on the old bench that was on the roof, and he joined you.

You brought up one arm to rest on the back of the bench and bent your knees, bringing up your legs onto the bench as well, tucking them under your butt, so you sat sideways facing him.

Looking at him for a second and noticing how nervous he looked, you decided to get to the point.

“I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop earlier, Mikey” you explained. “I just really wanted to get back to all of you with the food. You said something that has me a little curious though.” You tried to give him the most genuine and non-judging look you could. “After telling April to look at you, you said that I would never… something. What were you gonna say?”

Mikey leaned back on the bench and sighed. If you had already heard that much, he might as well come clean. He didn’t like hiding stuff from you anyways, and you’d have discovered his feelings sooner or later anyways. He just didn’t want it to be like this.

“I was gonna say that you’d never be interested in someone like me” he finally says, and looks out to the nocturnal cityscape. “I really didn’t want you to find out like this, but I really like you. I have for a while now.”

You were about to interrupt him to say something, but he held out a hand to stop you, silently asking for you to let him finish first, so you waited.

“And I don’t expect an answer from you; it’d be unfair to put you on the spot like this. I really like like you, but I also like having you as a friend, and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

You waited for a couple more seconds, and seeing that he seemed done with what he wanted to say, you finally spoke as well.

“But what if I want to ruin what we have?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked, unsure if he should be hurt by what you said.

“You’re my best friend in the whole world, Mikey, and that will never ever change. But sometimes I do wish we were something more…”

“Huh” was all he could say, trying to not get ahead of himself and get all excited, in case this wasn’t headed the way he thought it was. 

“How long have you felt this way?” you asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious and flustered, avoiding his eyes.

“I haven’t really been keeping track of it, but sure has been while now” he replied with a sheepish smile.

“Well, that’s a shame, because it’s been the same for me” you chuckled. “Guess we could have had this conversation a while ago. Good thing I caught you talking to April, huh?”

“So… you’re saying you like like me too?” Mikey asked and reached out for your hand.

“I do” you said and met him halfway, giving his hand a squeeze. 

You two just sat there for a while, holding hands, a blush on both your faces. After some minutes of nervous glances and some giggles, you stood up, pulling him with you.

“Now that that’s taken care of, I think we should head back” you said and pointed to the ladder with your chin. “They’ll start movie night without us otherwise and eat all the snacks I oh so carefully picked out.”

“Wait” Mikey said and pulled on your hand, turning you back around to face him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do forever.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant, as he was already closing the distance between you two and planted a chaste but firm kiss on your lips. It was over just as quickly as it started, and while you stood there with a furious blush and a dazed look, he smiled sweetly at you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be doing that more often” he commented, winked at you, and then pulled you along to the ladder. “Last one back home is a rotten egg!”

🟣 Donnie

Donnie slowly approached you, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest protectively. 

You leaned back against the railing, waiting for him to join you. As he finally arrived, he stood next to you, facing the cityscape below you. You guessed it would be more comfortable for him to stand like this, facing in opposite directions as you talked, or he’d think you’re confronting or scolding him.

“Thanks for coming, Donnie. You know, I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop earlier” you explained. “I just really wanted to get back to all of you with the food. You said something that has me a little curious though.” You gave him a quick glance from the side, trying to sound the most genuine and non-judging you could. “After telling April to look at you, you said that I would never… something. What were you gonna say?”

For a second, Donnie considered brushing the whole thing off as a joke between him and April, or telling you that you had misheard him. Chewing on his bottom lip, he quickly stole a glance at you; you were looking ahead of you, the faintest of blushes dusting your cheeks, patiently waiting for a response. 

He sighed, deciding against dismissing your question; it wouldn’t be fair to you. And it was beneath him to gaslight you. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he also didn’t want to be hurt by you. 

“Before I answer that, may I ask a question instead?” he asked.

“Sure” you said.

“Hypothetically speaking, if one of us were to ask you out, would there be a chance of you accepting? Solely regarding our physical appearance.”

“Yes, hypothetically” you answered. “But it would depend on who’s asking; looks aren’t the deciding factor.”

“What if, hypothetically, it was me?”

“Ask for real and find out” you said and finally turned around to face him. He slowly turned as well, his heart pounding in his chest; it was now or never. You smiled at him encouragingly, and he took a deep breath. 

“First of all: I like what we have now and I don’t want to lose it” he started, avoiding your eyes. “But for a while now I realised that my feelings for you have… changed. I want to be more than friends, Y/n.” 

Finally he met your gaze, and your heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his eyes.

“Are you hypothetically asking me out, Donatello?” you asked him with a coy smile.

“I am asking you out for real” he stated and shyly took your hands in his. “So, what do you say?”

“I’d love to, Donnie. I’ve liked you for a while now as well, for real.”

His entire body relaxed at your words and a soft smile spread on his face, as he took a moment to process this.

“This is all new to me” he said suddenly. “All I know is you’re important to me, and I don’t want to lose you. Please… be patient with me.”

“There’s no rush” you said, and brought one hand up to gently stroke over his cheek with your knuckles. “We’ll figure it out together. Just talk to me, okay?” He nodded.

“Should we head back?” you asked after a while.

“Yeah” he said and you both turned to leave, but he didn’t let go of your hand as you walked. “I saw you brought some new snacks, can’t wait to try those.”

You hummed in agreement, still in disbelief of what just happened. Despite how much you had been looking forward to them, you weren’t sure how many snacks you’d be able to eat, with all the butterflies fluttering in your belly right now.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon @koalaray @maribatshipper @whygz @lovelylovelydreams

[everyones-fangirl]

Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers. Stalking. Being super forward/not taking no for an answer. CNC. Female Masturbation.

Word Count: 4,995

Chapter 14

Cassara

I sat in that office for a long time. For what? I’m not sure—or I couldn’t be honest with myself over the reason. Maybe I hoped he’d come back. Maybe I was waiting for some kind of sign, a hint that he was alright. But as the minutes turned into hours and the candles I had been watching melt had burned down to the wick, my hope began to wane. The room felt emptier with each passing second, the silence growing heavier. Finally, I rose from his chair, feeling the weight of my uncertainty pressing down on me. I decided to wander through the halls, my steps echoing softly against the stone floor. Each corner I turned, each empty room I found, chipped away at my hope. The castle seemed to stretch endlessly, every shadow and whisper mocking my search.

The halls were dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance just out of reach. The portraits lining the walls, once silent observers, now felt like judging eyes, watching my every move. I couldn’t help but feel their silent condemnation, as if they too questioned my place here, my worthiness of Astarion’s affections.

I checked every room I could think of—the library, the grand dining hall, even the gardens outside—but there was no sign of him. The vast emptiness of the castle began to feel suffocating, each step a reminder of my solitude. My heart ached with each passing moment, the uncertainty gnawing at me. Eventually, I found myself standing in the doorway of our bedroom. The bed looked undisturbed, the covers still neatly in place. A pang of sadness shot through me as I realized he hadn’t come here either. Was the thought of sleeping with me so disgusting? The question echoed in my mind, a harsh reminder of my insecurities. I knew it was a selfish thought, but where else would my mind go? I moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the bedspread. The room felt colder without him, the shadows longer and darker. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I tried to stave off the overwhelming loneliness that threatened to consume me.

The night stretched on, moonlight slowly turning to the first rays of morning, and with it, my doubts and fears grew. The pale light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper my insecurities. Every tick of the clock echoed in the silence, a cruel reminder of the passing time and his continued absence.

I replayed our conversations, our moments together, searching for some clue as to why he had fled. Had I said something wrong? Was there something more I could have done? The questions spun in my mind, each one more painful than the last. His words, his touch, the way he looked at me—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet, here I was, alone in the early morning light, with only my doubts for company.

Eventually, exhaustion began to overtake me. I lay down on the bed, curling up on his side, seeking some small comfort in the lingering scent of him on the sheets. The fabric was cool against my skin, but it was the familiar scent that provided a semblance of warmth. My eyes grew heavy, the weight of the night finally pressing down on me. Despite the turmoil in my heart, sleep began to claim me, its pull irresistible. As I drifted off, I clung to the faint hope that he would return, that I would wake to find him by my side. The bed felt too big, too empty without him. I imagined his arms around me, his steady breath against my neck, but it was only a fleeting comfort. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting alongside me for a return that felt increasingly uncertain. Even as sleep pulled me under, a small, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered doubts, leaving me with a sense of unease that refused to let go. It questioned everything—his motives, his feelings, my place in his life. The voice was relentless, feeding off my deepest fears and insecurities. As the morning light grew brighter, it only seemed to illuminate the shadows in my heart.

I drifted between waking and sleeping, caught in a restless state where dreams and reality blurred. In my dreams, I saw him, his face etched with the same pain and confusion I felt. I reached out to him, but he always seemed just out of reach, a spectral figure in the haze of my mind. Each time I woke, the cold emptiness of the room brought a fresh wave of despair. The hope I clung to felt fragile, like a delicate thread that could snap at any moment. And as the morning wore on, I realized that the true battle wasn't just about finding him or understanding his actions. It was about confronting my own fears and learning to navigate this new, uncertain reality we found ourselves in. When I woke, I found myself still alone. The emptiness beside me was a cruel reminder of the night before, but anger had replaced my previous feelings of sadness and pity. A small fire began to burn in my chest as I rose from my spot on the bed. Each moment that passed only stoked the flames. Every second of his absence fueled my determination.

I moved through my morning routine with a newfound resolve, the anger sharpening my focus. I bathed quickly, scrubbing away the remnants of last night's turmoil. As the warm water cascaded over me, it felt like a cleansing ritual, washing away my doubts and insecurities. When I stepped out, I was no longer the same person who had lain awake, lost in her thoughts. I opted for the simplest garment I could find, which consisted of a beige dress with a cream-yellow corset to tie up at the top. It was something you’d see just about anyone wearing, but unlike most peasant rags, it was soft to the touch. The fabric was cool and comfortable against my skin, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. The simplicity of the dress was intentional—a reminder that I didn't need finery to face whatever lay ahead. Once I deemed myself presentable, I walked around the castle with purpose, each step echoing my growing resolve. I stopped briefly in the kitchen for a goblet of blood. The sight of it still made me uneasy, a reminder of the new reality I had to accept. I still hadn’t asked about how they got it, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answer. The taste was no longer foreign, but it hadn't become any less unsettling. As I drank, I focused on the energy it provided, using it to bolster my determination.

With the goblet emptied and my resolve steeled, I continued my walk through the castle. Each step was deliberate, my pace measured to maintain the appearance of a casual stroll. I did my best to seem unbothered, my demeanor calm and collected in case anyone was watching. My eyes, however, were sharp, scanning every corner and shadow for any sign of him. The castle’s halls were a maze of stone and silence, each room a potential hiding place. The absence of Astarion was a weight pressing down on me, but I refused to let it crush my spirit. I moved through the corridors with a purpose, my footsteps echoing softly against the cold floors. Every so often, I would pass a servant or a guard, and I would nod politely, maintaining the facade of normalcy. Inside, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but outwardly, I remained composed. I eventually found myself wandering into the gardens, the sun barely visible as it dipped below the horizon. The transition from day to night painted the sky in hues of purple and orange, casting a serene glow over the landscape. The garden was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the chaos of the castle seemed to fade away. Tall hedges and meticulously maintained flower beds created a labyrinth of greenery, dotted with statues and fountains that added to the tranquility.

The air was cool and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming flowers. I walked along the gravel paths, the crunching sound beneath my feet a rhythmic accompaniment to my thoughts. The beauty of the garden was a contrasted heavily to the turmoil within me, but it offered a momentary reprieve. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a soothing backdrop as I navigated the winding paths.

I stopped by a marble bench, its surface cool to the touch. Sitting down, I allowed myself a moment to take in the surroundings. The garden seemed to stretch on forever, a verdant expanse bathed in the soft twilight glow. The flowers were vibrant, their colors intensified by the fading light, and the gentle breeze carried their sweet aroma. It was a place of peace. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder where Astarion had gone. The anger that had fueled me earlier was still there, but it was tempered by a sense of weariness. The search had been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. I leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes for a moment. The garden’s tranquility seeped into me, offering a brief respite from the relentless quest for answers. But even in this peaceful setting, my mind couldn’t rest. The questions continued to churn, each one more persistent than the last. Why had he run? What was he hiding from? And why did it feel like he was slipping further away with each passing moment? The answers eluded me, hidden behind a veil of uncertainty that only deepened my resolve to find him.

A loud crunch sounded from my right, and I turned with a jump at the noise. The same tiefling from the other day was laid out on a low-hanging branch of an apple tree, her green-skinned form blending almost seamlessly with the foliage. She made a disgusted face before promptly spitting the fruit from her mouth. “I used to love these,” she muttered, tossing the rest of the apple she was holding behind her carelessly. The discarded fruit thudded dully against the ground, rolling to a stop at the base of the tree.

I frowned at her once I realized I was in no danger, remembering the pointless lie she had told about her name. Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Just like how your name is Zariel?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned, a flash of sharp teeth glinting in the fading light. “Caught me, didn’t you?” she said, her tone playful. She swung her legs over the branch and hopped down, landing gracefully in front of me. “My real name’s Sanna. Zariel is just a bit of fun. You know, keeps things interesting around here.”

I couldn’t help but feel a spark of irritation at her nonchalant attitude. “Interesting? You call lying interesting?” I retorted, my frustration seeping into my voice.

Sanna shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Keeps people on their toes. Besides, it’s not like I was trying to hurt anyone. Just having a bit of fun.”

I sighed, uncrossing my arms but maintaining a stern expression. “Well, your idea of fun is not exactly helpful when I’m dealing with.. other issues.”

She tilted her head, her playful demeanor softening slightly. “Other issues? Like what?”

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in her gaze—an unexpected hint of genuine curiosity—made me relent. “I’m looking for Astarion. He disappeared, and I haven’t been able to find him. I’m worried.”

Sanna’s expression shifted to one of mild concern. “Astarion, huh? Haven’t seen him since yesterday. He’s good at hiding when he wants to be. But if it’s any consolation, he’s probably not too far. He likes his lairs.”

I nodded, though her words did little to ease my anxiety. “Thanks, I guess.”

“He’s throwing a party in a fortnight...” She mentioned before trailing off.

My brows furrowed. “So?” I really couldn’t care less about a stupid party.

She shrugged, turning away from me to walk down the opposite path. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you knew about it, is all.”

Her nonchalance only added to my irritation. “No, I didn’t know,” I called after her, my voice tinged with frustration. “And I don’t see how it matters.”

Sanna paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a knowing smirk. “Well, parties are where people show their true colors. You might learn something useful about Astarion if you pay attention.”

I watched her walk away, her casual demeanor grating on my nerves. What did she know about Astarion that I didn’t? And why was she being so cryptic? The encounter left me with more questions than answers, and a simmering sense of unease that I couldn’t shake. Determined to find some clarity, I continued my walk through the garden, the sun now fully set, casting the castle grounds in deep shadows. The cool night air did little to soothe my frayed nerves. My thoughts kept circling back to Astarion’s disappearance and the cryptic hints Sanna had dropped.

As I wandered through the dimly lit pathways, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of urgency. The castle, with its hidden corners and secret passages, seemed to hold more mysteries than I had anticipated. I had to find Astarion, not just for my own peace of mind, but to unravel the tangled web of secrets that surrounded him.

Eventually, I found myself back at the entrance to the castle. The grand doors loomed before me, a reminder of the challenges that lay within. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever awaited me inside. With renewed determination, I pushed the doors open and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that hung in the air. Each step echoed softly in the silence, a reminder of the emptiness that seemed to pervade the castle. As I made my way through the labyrinthine corridors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Turning a corner, I almost collided with one of the castle’s servants, a young woman with wide eyes and a nervous demeanor. “Oh, excuse me,” she stammered, clutching a stack of linens to her chest.

“It’s fine,” I replied kindly, my mind already moving on to the next task. “Have you seen Astarion?”

The servant shook her head, her eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. “No, miss. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

I nodded, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest. “Thank you.”

As she scurried away, I caught the sound of a chuckle from a couple of guards loitering nearby. They seemed strategically placed, yet I hadn’t quite figured out their purpose. Annoyance flared within me as I turned to face them, my brow arching in their direction. Two taller men stood there, their eyes glinting with amusement. The first was a burly man with a presence that seemed to dominate the corridor. His face bore a long scar running down his left cheek, a testament to past battles and the dangers he had faced. His broad shoulders and muscular frame were accentuated by the dark, well-fitted leather armor he wore, which bore the insignia of Astarion’s household—a silver bat entwined with a rose. His dark hair was cropped short, and his piercing blue eyes held a glint of amusement that barely masked his wariness.

The second guard was slightly younger, with a leaner build but no less imposing. His armor matched the burly man’s, though it fit him with a sleeker, more agile cut. His skin was tanned, and a few faint scars crisscrossed his forearms, visible where the sleeves of his armor ended. His hazel eyes were less hardened, reflecting a mix of curiosity and caution. Unlike his companion, his hair was longer, tied back in a loose ponytail that reached his shoulders. His face, though stern, softened slightly when he attempted a half-hearted smile. Both men carried short swords sheathed at their hips, the hilts worn from use but meticulously maintained. The burly guard’s sword had a simple, rugged design, while the younger guard’s hilt bore intricate engravings, hinting at a more refined origin. Their postures were relaxed but ready, suggesting they were experienced and always prepared for trouble. Their demeanor changed as I approached. The burly guard straightened up, his expression turning serious, though the hint of smugness remained in his eyes. The younger guard followed suit, his earlier attempt at levity fading into a more professional stance. Despite their attempt to appear composed, I could sense their underlying amusement, an infuriating contrast to the tension that gripped me.

“Something funny over there, gentlemen?” I snapped, the words escaping before I could stop myself. The stress of the day had worn my patience thin, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

The first guard straightened up, his expression quickly sobering. “No, miss. Just sharing a joke,” he said, but there was a hint of smugness in his tone that made my blood boil.

The other guard, slightly younger and less scarred, gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “Just trying to lighten the mood, miss,” he added, though his eyes flicked nervously between me and his companion.

The darkness within me had been creeping in for a while now, an unwelcome shadow that seemed to grow with every passing day. At first, it was just a whisper, a faint voice in the back of my mind that I could easily ignore. But recently, it had become louder, more insistent, feeding on my fears and frustrations until it was nearly impossible to silence. As I stood there, glaring at those guards, I felt that darkness rise up again, a wave of anger that was hot and consuming. It started deep in my chest, a smoldering ember that slowly spread outward, searing through my veins like molten lava. My hands shook with the intensity of it, and my vision seemed to narrow, everything outside my focus fading into insignificance.

The rage was evil, malicious, something I had never felt in my life. It was as if a beast had been awakened inside me, clawing at my insides, demanding to be released. Every insult, every slight, every ounce of disrespect I had endured seemed to fuel it, stoking the flames higher and higher until I was burning from the inside out. I knew this wasn’t me, not the real me. The real me wouldn’t have lashed out like this, wouldn’t have felt this overwhelming urge to hurt, to destroy. But the darkness was seductive, whispering in my ear, telling me that I had every right to be angry, that I deserved to make them pay. And in that moment, I believed it. I let it take over, let it guide my actions, because it was easier than fighting it. “Oh, lighten the mood, is it?” I began sarcastically, stepping closer to them. “I could use a laugh. Go on, share it.”

The burly guard exchanged a look with his companion, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, we were just saying, it must be nice to be the master’s favorite. A little special treatment, a little extra attention,” he said, his tone dripping with insinuation.

The younger guard snickered, adding, “Yeah, must be nice to be Astarion’s whore.”

The words hit me like a slap, and the darkness within me surged. My vision narrowed, and my hands clenched into fists. I took a step forward, feeling the anger pulse through me, making my skin prickle with a strange, unfamiliar energy. “What did you just say?” My voice was low, dangerous, a growl that seemed to surprise even me.

The younger guard’s eyes widened, and he took a half-step back. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t think you understand,” I interrupted, my voice shaking with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to insult me and walk away unscathed.”

The burly guard’s smirk faltered, and he squared his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “Easy there, miss. No need to get all worked up.”

“Oh, but I think there is,” I replied, my voice cold and sharp. I stepped closer, my face inches from the burly guard’s. “Do you have any idea what I’m capable of?” For a moment, there was silence, thick and heavy. The younger guard looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, and even the burly guard seemed to be reconsidering his bravado. “Now, apologize,” I demanded, my voice leaving no room for argument.

The younger guard stammered, “I-I’m sorry, miss. We didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The burly guard hesitated, his pride warring with his survival instincts. Finally, he muttered, “Sorry.”

A rush of satisfaction and power filled my previously emptying heart—a temporary balm for the pain I was truly feeling. But it wasn’t enough. I took a deep breath, puffing out my chest as I allowed my eyes to drag down their bodies until my gaze was on the ground. “Not good enough.” The voice that came out of me felt foreign, alien. “Kneel.”

The two guards exchanged bewildered glances, their mouths agape like fish out of water. The burly guard, his face reddening with a mix of anger and embarrassment, narrowed his eyes at me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now wait just a minute, you can’t—”

I cut him off with a sharp, commanding tone that surprised even me. “I said, kneel.” The authority in my voice was undeniable, laced with an edge that brooked no argument. The younger guard, eyes wide with uncertainty, seemed to shrink back, glancing nervously at his companion. The burly guard’s defiance wavered, his bravado crumbling under the weight of my unwavering gaze. Slowly, begrudgingly, they both sank to their knees, their expressions a mix of anger, confusion, and reluctant submission. A dark satisfaction curled in my chest, the feeling of control intoxicating. This was new, this power over others, this ability to bend them to my will. It was a stark contrast to the helplessness I had felt so often before. The darkness within me fed on it, growing stronger with each act of dominance. But even as I reveled in the moment, a part of me recoiled. This wasn’t who I was—or at least, it wasn’t who I had been. The line between justice and cruelty blurred, and I found myself teetering on the edge, dangerously close to losing myself entirely to this newfound power. I held their gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch, making sure the lesson was ingrained in their minds. Then, with a dismissive wave of my hand, I turned away, leaving them to pick themselves up. The satisfaction lingered, but it was tainted by an unsettling sense of foreboding. As I walked away, the weight of what I had done began to settle in.

The darkness that had driven me was not easily quelled, and I could feel it lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to assert itself. The power it offered was seductive, but it came at a price. For now, I had what I wanted—compliance, respect, fear. But at what cost? The question gnawed at me, even as I tried to push it aside. Because deep down, I knew that every time I gave in to the darkness, I lost a little more of myself. And I wasn’t sure how much more I could afford to lose. As I threw myself onto the bed in what seemed to be just my room now, a strange feeling began to develop deep in my belly. The heat from my anger and the satisfaction of what I had just done mixed into the most deliciously intense sensation. The darkness seemed to be seductive in more ways than one. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, and before I had time to think, my body was already moving. My hands slid up my thighs, lifting the skirt of my dress. My breath came out in shaky gasps, each one intensifying the heat building within me. The room felt both expansive and suffocating, the shadows on the walls seeming to dance and pulse with the rhythm of my heartbeat. My fingers traced the hem of my dress, slowly inching higher, my skin tingling with anticipation. There was a wild, uncontrollable energy coursing through me, a primal urge that demanded to be satisfied. With each touch, each caress, the darkness within me seemed to grow, feeding off my desire. My breaths grew heavier, my movements more urgent. The boundary between my anger and my arousal blurred, intertwining in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.

I leaned back on the bed, my hands exploring the curves of my body with a newfound intensity. The fabric of my dress felt rough against my skin, a startling difference to the softness of my own touch. My mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one drowned out by the overwhelming need to feel, to embrace this dark pleasure. As my hands roamed, I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the raw, consuming fire within me. Every touch was a spark, every breath a flame, and I was burning, alive and alight with the darkness I had unleashed. In that moment, I was powerful, I was free, and yet, a part of me knew that this power came with a cost. Each indulgence in the darkness chipped away at my soul, and the line between who I was and who I was becoming grew fainter. But as my fingers traced the contours of my body, I couldn't bring myself to care. The pleasure was too intense, too consuming, and I was willing to lose myself in it, if only for a moment longer. Call it an act of revenge or whatever you want. I simply saw it as an opportunity as I grabbed Astarion’s pillow and positioned it between my thighs, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the roughness of my emotions. The darkness still simmered within me, and I let it drive me, fueling my movements. As I sat on top of the pillow, I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, a way to reclaim some control over the chaotic emotions that had taken hold. My soft moans began to fill the room, a symphony of both anger and desire, as I rocked my hips against the pillow.

Each movement was a release, a way to channel the pent-up frustration and longing. The friction against the sensitive skin of my thighs sent shivers up my spine, and I found myself losing track of time and space, consumed by the sensations. Astarion’s scent filled the air, a haunting reminder of his presence despite his absence. Even though I was furious with him, the image of him beneath me was impossible to banish. My imagination conjured him with perfect clarity—his pale skin, the sharp angles of his face, the intensity in his eyes. I could almost feel his hands on me, his breath hot against my skin. The thought of him watching me, being a part of this moment, added a layer of intimacy that only deepened my arousal. My moans grew louder, more desperate, as the pressure built within me. I clung to the pillow, my fingers digging into the fabric as I ground my hips harder, chasing the release I so desperately needed. Each thrust, each movement, was a blend of pleasure and punishment, a way to both embrace and exorcise the darkness that had taken root. In the haze of my arousal, I imagined Astarion’s voice, his hands, his body. The fantasy became so vivid that I almost believed he was there, beneath me, his gaze locked onto mine with that familiar mix of hunger and intensity. It was a bittersweet torment, to crave someone who had caused me so much pain, yet still hold onto the desire for his touch. As I rode the pillow, my breath coming in ragged gasps, I let go of everything else—the anger, the hurt, the confusion. In this moment, there was only the raw, unfiltered need, the primal connection between pleasure and pain. The room around me faded away, leaving only the pulse of my heartbeat and the mounting pressure within.

Finally, the tension reached its breaking point, and I cried out, the sound a mix of ecstasy and release. My body trembled with the force of my climax, every nerve ending alight with sensation. I collapsed onto the bed, the pillow still clutched between my legs, my breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts. For a moment, there was nothing but the aftermath—the lingering pleasure, the rapid beat of my heart, the silence that followed. And then, as the darkness within me began to recede, I was left with the stark realization of what I had done. The anger and the desire had intertwined so completely that it was hard to separate one from the other. I lay there, feeling both powerful and vulnerable, the weight of my actions settling over me. The darkness had given me a taste of its power, but at what cost? As the heat of the moment faded, the reality of my emotions returned, leaving me to grapple with the aftermath. I had sought control, but in doing so, I had surrendered a part of myself to the very darkness I feared.

[sea-creature-things]

This is my first fanfic so be nice pls. I've been sitting on this story ever since Thanks to Them came out. It's the first fanfic I've EVER made and I was kinda scared to actually put it on here.

But now i really want to share it. I don't care if its cringe, it makes me happy. So maybe it'll make other people happy too?

Read on AO3 or below.

How Vee and Hunter became friends

Vee didn’t like Hunter. Not just that, she didn’t trust him. He had been in the Emperor’s Coven after all. He was the golden guard! He was the physical embodiment of everything she ran from. She knew it was unfair, they crashed here searching for help, but it felt like her past had followed her.

No, she definitely didn’t trust him. Luz said he changed, but she couldn’t believe it. Even then, it didn’t matter if he changed! She just didn’t feel safe with him. His mere presence reminded her of all the things she’d rather forget.

Vee especially didn’t want to be alone with him. But even if they were both with the group, she made sure she wouldn’t be next to him. The few times she had ended up walking next to him, she’d increase speed to be next to anyone else instead. She didn’t care who saw.

If they were all together in the living room, she would rather sit on the floor then on the couch, just so she could be on the other side of the room from him.

If they were all in the kitchen for dinner, she’d quickly claim the farthest seat away. By now the two of them basically had assigned seats on opposite ends while the others changed places every day.

If they were in the old house, working on a new portal to the demon realm, she'd rather help Camila with chores. The portal wasn’t any of her business anyways. And it’s not like she fit in with the group. Yet. Hopefully.

Hunter wasn’t stupid, he could tell she didn't like him. But he didn’t mind. Actually, he thought he deserved it. Luz, Gus, Willow and even Amity had all forgiven him so fast. At least someone was still holding him accountable.

He tried his best to avoid Vee as well. She clearly didn’t want to be near him, so he wouldn’t force her to be. The house was big enough to give her space.

After the first night, and Vee saw his sigil, he knew he would have to walk on eggshells. He also remembered the first and only time they were alone in a room. Saying it was a disaster was probably an understatement.

~~~~~

Flapjack had been relentlessly chirping in his ears. The little bird insisted he should tell someone about the pain in his stomach. There was nothing wrong he just... always seemed hungrier than the rest.

“Miss- I mean Camila, could I maybe have something to eat?” Hunter asked sheepishly, his voice barely loud enough for the woman to hear. He didn’t like asking for things, especially from their host. He didn't want to be a burden to her. Anymore than he already was.

But Camila had just smiled and sweetly told him: “Of course! Don’t worry about it dear, you’re a growing teen after all. There should be a bag of chips in the pantry.“

“Thank you.” Hunter had said, quickly standing up and resisting the urge to bow. Camila wasn’t Belos, he had to get through his head already! He walked towards the kitchen, but stood still at the entrance.

Vee had been standing at the counter with her back towards him. She must have heard him, because she looked over her shoulder. Hunter was already used to her looking at him annoyed or suspiscous. But this time, she looked scared. She turned around completely, eyes wide and shoulders tense. Her back now pressed into the counter, like she was trying to move away and stand completely still at the same time. She was scared of him.

It was like something clicked in his brain. Hunter slowly backed away and walked back to the living room.

Luz had looked at him puzzled. “Could you not find it?” Hunter didn't want to lie, but the others didn’t know about the issues between him and Vee. And they wouldn’t understand, or at least, they wouldn’t just leave it alone. “Umm, I’m not hungry anymore.”

~~~~~

So now he avoided Vee like the plague. He was determined to never invade her space again.

Camila wasn’t stupid either. She noticed the strange behaviours on both sides. But she didn’t understand it.

She'd been alone with Hunter plenty of times. He was a sweetheart! Clearly he was still recovering from whatever this Emperors coven thing was, but there was nothing but compassion in his heart. Camila saw how he treated everyone, especially Gus. Even just a week after their arrival, she felt like she knew this kid.

Camila also knew Vee. Sometimes it felt like she knew her better than Luz! The little demon had been impersonating her daughter of course, but after the truth came out, Camila got to know Vee better. She opened up a little. She was calm, kind and always willing to help. So, why was she being so cold towards Hunter?

“Do you know why Vee and Hunter don’t get along, Mija?” Camila asked as she entered the kitchen. It was just them, so she felt it was okay to ask.

Luz looked up from her phone. She had not expected this question. She thought back to her first night back home. Their crash landing in the Human realm, the long dinner-table-explanation and the 'fight' between Hunter and Vee. The little basilisk had noticed his sigil, Luz had seen that she noticed, Hunter had seen both of them noticed, but nothing really happened in the moment. At night, when everyone else was asleep they had a very awkward and very difficult conversation.

They had both promised to keep things civil for the sake of not stressing out their friends more than they already were, but maybe that ship had sailed.

“Oh umm, I think it’s because Hunter was the Golden Guard. Vee just doesn’t trust him.”

“Mmmm” Camila had to think for a second. What was a golden guard again? Luz had called him a ‘child soldier’ and ‘ridiculously brainwashed’. Whatever Hunter had done in that Coven wasn’t his fault, right?

“We should probably leave them alone Mami."

What? That didn’t sound like her daughter. Luz always wanted everyone to be friends, ever since she was a little kid. This wasn’t the first time she looked so hopeless after coming home either. Perhaps Camila could kill two birds with one stone. Making Vee and Hunter become friends could also cheer up Luz. Yup! She’d made up her mind.

“Vee, Hunter! Could you come here for a second?” Camila shouted in the general direction of the living room.

“Mamiiiii!” Luz looked betrayed.

Hunter and Vee arrived in the kitchen at the same time. They looked worried, as if they knew what was about to happen.

“I have a list of groceries here, could you two run to the store and get them for me? Here, I’ll give you some money.”

Hunter and vee looked at each other. Both of their faces showed extreme discomfort. Here come the excuses…

“I actually don’t feel so good. Can I stay home?” Vee gripped her stomach. But her face revealed her lie.

“Vee, I know going outside isn't your favourite. But I need these groceries and you know your way around.” She changed into her human disguise, a sign of acceptance.

“Ummm I’m not very good at those grocerie thingies. But Willow is! She could go instead.” Hunter smiled hopefully.

“Nonsense Hunter! You’re great at running errands for me.” He nodded, a sign of defeat.

No mercy! Camila put the list in Vee’s hands and 60 dollars in Hunter’s. Then she practically pushed them towards the door.

“Alright good luck, have fun, buy yourselves some snacks and be back before dinner!”

The grocery trip was awkward, but uneventful. Vee and Hunter hadn’t said anything to each other on the way there. She still refused to walk next to him, being blatantly clear about that now. At times Hunter wasn’t even sure she was still behind him. He decided to leave Flapjack home. Maybe if he was powerless, Vee wouldn’t feel so threatened.

At the store they talked as little as possible. Vee told him the next item on their list and then they would debate which brand to buy. But this ‘debate’ would consist of: “This one?”, “No, this one.” or “Sure.” and “Let’s take the cheaper one instead.”

Hunter was pretty sure that last one was a new record. 6 words.

At the checkout they were quiet again. Vee was loading in the groceries while Hunter paid the cashier.

“Have a nice day.” The lady said while handing him the receipt. Hunter ignored the weird look she shot at his scar.

“Thank you.”

Vee was done gathering everything, but she was clearly struggling with the bag.

“Do you want me to carry that for you?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Hunter knew he fucked up.

“No. I can do it myself.”

Her voice was like venom. Hunter couldn’t help but shrink. He knew his feelings would show clearly on his face. Did he really forget who he was dealing with that easily?

On the way back Vee was in front, the heavy bag was causing her to walk weird. And slow. But Hunter refused to say another thing about it.

Vee was getting extremely fed up. This bag was killing her shoulder! Even worse, she felt Hunters eyes on her like heat rays.

The look on his face when she snapped at him earlier was still on her mind. She didn’t mean to be that harsh. But excepting his help, would be admitting defeat! He didn’t think one little trip to the store would make her trust him, right?

She could still feel those eyes. It felt exactly like the look of a Scout. Watching her carefully. Making sure she was only doing what she was told. She felt herself getting angrier. Even worse, she felt like she needed to explain herself, tell him exactly why she had been so mean. She stopped dead in her tracks, dropped the bag and turned around.

“Look! I’m sure you’ve noticed I don’t like you.” Before Vee could defend herself though, he said something.

“You have every right not to."

He didn’t even look surprised at her sudden 180. How could he say something like that so calmly?

“I understand”

What? Is he serious?!

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t know what I’ve been through!” Wait, why did she want to tell him anyways? She didn’t need explain shit!

“No I- I don’t. But I know the Emperor’s Coven was horrible to you and … I can relate? … I guess."

Vee was too stunned to speak. What? WHAT?!

Hunter continued, “I’m just trying to say-.”

“You think you can relate?!”

She shut her eyes. Painful memories flooded her mind.

“You were the golden guard! I was a prisoner! You’re a witch! I’m a Basilisk!“ She didn’t want to tell him. Why was she telling him?

“ I- “

“You don’t know what’s it’s like to be made, just to be used as a tool! A throwaway! A pawn!!”

“Actually I do know what that’s like!”

Vee’s eyes flew open.

Hunter was angry. She’s never seen him angry before. She’s never even heard him raise his voice. But it didn’t scare her like she thought it would. His expressions changed very quickly. He seemed shocked by his own words.

And scared.

“You really do… don’t you?”

She knew he was telling the truth. He had the same hurt in his voice. The same look in his eye.

Those magenta eyes.

“What are you?”

Hunter sighed, he couldn't not tell her now. Maybe out of everyone, Vee would understand. Besides, he wasn't worried that she would come to hate him, she already did. What did he have to lose?

“I’m a Grimwalker and technically I shouldn’t exist.”

A long silence fell between them.

This time when Vee looked at Hunter, she didn’t see her past. She didn’t see the coven or the scouts. She saw herself.

Alright fine, she was admitting defeat.

Vee picked up the bag and held it out in front of her. Hunter was confused, but he took it quickly. In case she would change her mind. Did this mean she trusted him? It couldn’t be that easy, right?

“Let’s go home”

“Right.” He waited for her to move first. So she could walk ahead of him. But she didn’t move.

“Come walk next to me.”

“Oh okay.” It was that easy.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

…

“Sooooo… what’s a grimwalker?” Hunter couldn't hear any animosity in her voice, which was... new.

“Uuuuuuhhhh”

“Legally, you have to tell me.” He couldn't tell if her tone was playful or not. She was probably right though. He should just tell her everything.

“I don’t actually know. I think I’m like a clone? Belos made me, but I don’t know how... or why.”

….

“So I guess we were both made in Belos’s basement.”

Hunter had not expected that. He couldn’t help but laugh at it. Just a little bit.

“That’s horrible!”

“Yeah… but true tho. Just two test tube babies walking down the street.”

Hunter couldn’t hold it anymore. Vee was giving him that mischievous look. He’s only ever seen her look at Luz that way. Alright, he could try to ‘pile on the funny’.

“Look at us, two runaway pet projects”

Now Vee burst out laughing. Had he ever heard that before?

They kept going for a while. Trying to one-up each other in the most absurd ways.

Hunter couldn't believe it. Telling her he was a Grimwalker, out of all things, was what made them friends? That couldn't be right. But she was being so nice. He didn't want to push it, but a part if him wanted to test the limits. They were almost at the house. He need to know, one final test: sass.

“Ya know, this bag really isn’t that heavy.” He smirked.

“How dare you.” Vee said dramatically. It was fake offence. Something Hunter has seen her do many times, but never with him. He smile was wide and genuine and it didn't fade when they walked through the door.

Yup! They were friends now. It really was that easy.

Epilogue:

Camila and four out of six children were sitting on the couch, watching old cartoons. They heard the front door open. Luz and Camila immediately looked at each other, this was the moment of truth.

But to Luz's surprise and her mom's delight, they heard Vee and Hunter talking. As they passed the doorway to the livingroom, she realised it was goodhearted banter.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunter chuckled.

"I'm just saying- Oh hey!" Vee noticed everyone on the couch and waved. "We're back!"

They were met with a lot of greetings. Only Luz reacted a little confused to her enthusiasm.

"Did you find everything?" Camila asked.

"Yes. We found everything on the list." Hunter reported to her. Vee pushed her elbow into his side. "Give her the change."

"Oh right!" He smiled and put the bag down, then proudly presented the leftover 7 bucks and the receipt.

"Thanks dear."

"We'll go put these away."

Vee picked up the bag with determination, or tried to at least. Her shoulder dropped under its pressure, making her entire top half slanted. She took slow and careful steps towards the hallway. Hunter laughed and took the bag from her shoulder.

"Try not to break your spine." He teased. Vee puffed her cheeks and poked him in the side. "I'll break your spine." She mumbled. As they disappeared around the corner, Vee giggled.

Camila looked on proud. She saw Luz looking dumbfounded, before a sparkle came into her eyes. She jumped up and ran after the two.

"I'll help!"

Camila smirked. Victory.

[invisibleraven]

"We can look out for each other." + QPR JatP?

Reggie hummed as he scaled the ladder of Alex's treehouse, hoping he'd find his friend in there. That's where his mom said he'd find him anyhow. Only when his head popped through the opening, he saw Alex in a huddle, clinging to his knees.

"Lexie?"

Alex looked up, his eyes red-rimmed, and his bottom lip bitten raw. "Hey Reg," he said in a small voice.

"What's wrong?" Reggie said, scrambling over to his side. Alex shook his head. "You want me to call the others over?" Alex nodded. "Alrighty."

Reggie leant over, squeezing an arm around Alex, a tiny reassurance before he reached for the walkie-talkie. They all had one, using them to talk late into the night, to summon the others to their side at problems or just to let the group know where the ice cream truck was.

He pressed the button, wincing at the loud squawk it let out. "Y'all we got an upset Alex, can you hustle over here pronto? Over."

"Ten four good buddy, hopping on my bike now," Luke replied. "Over."

"Sorry, trapped doing chores," Bobby grumbled. "Alex you can keep me on the channel or tell me later, over."

Alex shook his head subtly, and Reggie nodded. "He'll call you later Bobbers. Stay strong, over."

"Papi is going to walk me over in a few, and mami is giving me cookies to share. Chocolate chip, Alex's favourite," Julie said. "Over."

"I hope you're bringing enough for everyone, because you're crazy if you don't like chocolate chip," Reggie replied. "See you all soon, over and out."

Reggie sat there, softly rubbing Alex's back, breathing deep in hopes his friend would copy the rhythm, instead of the stuttered, rattling thing he was doing now. Humming a Whitney Houston song, grinning when Alex slowly started to sing along, his voice shaky and unsure.

They were still going when they heard Luke's bike hit the ground under the tree, and Julie's dad calling out to be home for supper-and that they were all welcome, as always.

"Alrighty, what's the problem?" Luke asked as he sat criss cross on an apple box he had claimed as a chair.

"Is it your parents?" Julie asked quietly as she handed Alex a cookie, then one to each of the other boys. "Are they being awful again?"

Alex waved his hand back and forth in a so-so motion, taking a bite of the cookie. "They started going on about high school starting next week, about the clubs I need to join, the girls I need to meet up with. They made it sound terrifying and horrible."

"Did you ask Livvie?" Luke asked around a mouthful of cookie.

Alex shook his head. "She's away with friends out of town, at some cabin or another. I don't know how to get in touch."

"Will she be home before she heads back to school?" Reggie asked, taking smaller bites of his treat, wanting to savour each bite.

"For a few days, mom insisted," Alex replied. "I'll talk to her then, but that's ages away."

"We're all in the same boat you know," Julie said quietly, nibbling her cookie. "None of us know what high school will be like. What the teachers are like, or the classes. I'm nervous."

"I'm not," Luke said with a shrug. "School is school. Same boring subjects, same awful food."

"You can front all you want, I know you aren't that brave," Reggie said, playfully shoving him. "But it'll be alright. We can look out for each other."

"We always have each other right?" Julie asked with a wide grin.

Alex finally managed a smile at that. "And we always will." He reached for another cookie. "Do you think the school has a set of drums I can use?"

"I bet they do," Luke mused. "Maybe we can see about us all taking the same music class, start up that band we always talked about."

"You're never giving up on that are you?" Julie asked with an eye roll.

"Nope!" Luke replied jubilantly. "We all rock, we all play instruments. Julie's dad knows all those club owners to help us get gigs, and can film us."

"Bobby's lola has the van, and she'd drive us around, until we can," Alex added.

"I can design a super cool logo for us, if we ever decide on a name," Reggie piped up.

"Well let's get to high school first and we can figure the rest out later," Julie said. "For now let's get out of this tree house, I can hear it creaking every time one of us moves and I'm terrified it'll collapse under us."

At that the wood gave an ominous groan and they all shared a look, scrambling out of the tree house, which was still standing when they were on the ground, but Alex silently thought if any of them tried to go in it again they would be coming down with it.

"So, what's for supper?" he asked Julie. "It's not your dad's spaghetti is it?"

"Come on, Ray's spaghetti isn't that bad," Reggie argued.

"Yes it is," Alex and Luke chorused.

Julie giggled at that. "It's mami's night to cook, so it's probably going to be tamales and pork adobo bowls."

"Yum!" Reggie exclaimed. Then he picked up the walkie. "Hey Bobbers, you up for Rose's cooking for dinner? Over."

"Anything beats leftover meatloaf," Bobby's voice came down the line. "I'll be there in thirty, then you can tell me what I missed at the meeting. Over."

"You're supposed to say over and out Robert," Luke teased. "Over."

Alex grinned as he listened to his friends squabble, laughing and joking with each other. Knowing that despite their arguing, he knew he could count on them-no matter what. And he always would.

[moonchildbaby]

⛧Queen of the Night⛧ Jan Valek  x Fem!Reader

Inspired by I_$uss by Ленинград (Leningrad) 

I took the sin half hearted

but in the strictest possible sense

You were beautiful like Jesus

in art masterpieces

I thought I would ascent

because of your beauty or my sensations

A/N: Ritualistic and Cult Initiation, Vampires, Dubious consent, Smut, implicated violence, fem!reader and we pretend that Jan Valek has Terry Silvers nails ok

Wordcount: 1,218

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“Scream. That’s it.” the deep voices purrs in a deep slithering hiss. “Scream as loud as you can and know you’ll be screaming only for me.” His grin is all midnight and red lipped against his marble complexation, the long fingers clasped around you drawing crimson patterns on your skin as the sharp nails easily scrape through the surface of your soft flesh. Lovingly he marks you. All his. The moonlight illuminates Jan Valek’s eyes through the painted window high above, the only natural source of light painting his orbs white as snow. His touch is frozen like morning dew yet something akin to warmth still lingers under the surface of his digits, disturbing you even more. Maybe the hundreds of candles illuminating the dark church his followers have lit are the reason for that peculiar sensation. They sit watching, engulfed in eerie silence, their eyes glazed chips of ice as they follow the spectacle taking place on the altar. Having come from far and near, they made their way through the deepest of nights, mere shadows in the late October wind to lay their eyes upon the new mistress of the night. 

Upon the initiation. 

The vampire master claiming his mate for eternity. 

“No god can help you now, no book nor prayer can save you. All there is and will be inside of you is me and the night. “ Jan purrs as lips kiss the tender flesh of your breasts, lying bare to him as you shiver helpless and unmoving completely numbed by the poison coaxing out the night in your veins.  Marked by the father of all Vampires himself. The way he holds you is an unearthly sensation as removes any remaining garments separating your bodies and you find yourself squirming in horror. The light in his pale eyes sends chills of equal desire and horror down your spine. A chuckle slips from the velvet lips as Jan finds himself bemused, your terror so endearing to him. His mouth grazes yours in order to soften the sharp edges of fear. The nightwanderer holds you in an embrace akin to a lovers as you feel his long sharp digits claiming you, pain and pleasure clouding your mind as you feel your own fingers digging into Jan's broad shoulders. Trying to hurt him with, scrape him open with your fingernails, hoping to kill him - only to want him closer, more, intensely, everywhere. In haze your mind struggles for control against the dark fluid pressure coaxing and pressing every nerve as you feel yourself slipping away, slowly and surely engulfed by it’s power. 

And then he is, everywhere and swiftly part of you as your legs wrap arounds his waist, compiling with unspoken commands the horror fading into a lingering white noise under his caresses, rough and gentle at the same time. Every touch holds a never felt intensity to it. Stronger than any drug your lips have tasted before and mind exploding in sensation when Jan's fangs find the soft flesh of your bosom, biting, kissing and sucking. Delicious and bittersweet remainders of the last human quantity of blood you possess wanders down the vampires throat as watches his beloveds reactions from hooded ice blue slits, taking pleasure in the spectacle before him. “Nobody would be able to love you like I do.” he coos the voice deep and sinister, feeling them clench around him shivers running over the exposed skin.

You are helpless as you hear your mouth forming a new name breathless at first, trying to suppress the urge as breath turns into moan and moans into screams. As Jesus turns into Jan, God to master. The white rose petals are painted crimson from your blood as the pressure fleets from your mind, limbs twitching as you feel the coldness creeping in contrasting to the boiling heat inside your womb as your midnight lover claims you roughly. His sharp thrusts mix with the boiling of your blood, feeling like acid in your veins as your screams grow hoarse, high pitched the sound akin to a lamb being slaughtered, half alive as their brains are devoured, as pleasure and pain overtake you thunder mixing with your shared moans of release as you come around him. Jan flings his head back at the sensation, his raven locks shimmering a midnight blue as his fingers dig into your hips. The tarnished droplets of rust leaking from pale skin proves the success of turning as the realization has him wasting himself inside of you. 

Now you will be his and only his. For eternity. And nobody can take you. Not even “God”.                                                                                                              Spine chilling, melodious laughter erupts from the back of his throat. Primal, pleased and greedy it resonates from the Church walls as blackness floods your irises and bliss wipes out the remaining consciousness bidding you good night one last time. 

Sometime after, minutes or seconds have molten into each other, you feel yourself woken by a soft touch of your head and the cool, silken touch of familiar lips against your own. 

Jan’s hand cradles your face for a moment, wolf eyes taking in your nude form, the soft flesh paling as the moon paints the final turning from the livestock to a child of the night. A child of his own like his hundreds of followers. 

“Stand” he instructs, his hand engulfing your own and you let yourself be lifted by his steeled strength. 

The mind in trance your senses flood every fibre of your body. Your vision and smell sharp as the blades on the altar. You taste and smell simultaneously- the  mixed fluids inside and leaking from you, the blood beginning to curst into darkness, the scattered rose buds, the candle wax, the leather band from Jan’s book on the lectern, the wood of the pews and the insects living inside the walls. The stones wet from the rain washing across the thin glass, excitement and aroused murmurs of the crowd when Jan raises his voice. 

“My children, you are invited -                                                                           Join me and my bride in our first hunt as a finally completed family.”

Desire fills your body up to the point you feel it vibrating with greed. Blood. Food. Warmth. The idea abolishes morals and horror swiftly, brains descending into  final darkness, gone akin to a fleeting musing. 

A black robe is draped and fitted around your form in seconds, a crown of black roses and nightshade on your head, hair smoothed out by the gentle hands of your followers. Your hazy mind cannot pinpoint why you would ever have come to think of them as scary, haunting individuals when they could not be more alluring. These are your people, your flock, your home. Pale eyes which have now become your own interlock with the icy blue ones of your new found messiah. Your midnight lover and husband. It is as if you can appreciate his true beauty only now. Deadly and dark as Onyx. Nothing to be afraid of. He is a part of you now. 

The crowd erupts into wild and feral excitement as the two of you share the first kiss that marks the beginning of a new era. A new time. And what a bloody one it will become. 

All is a blur as your eyes take in every lightning illuminating the dark  the masses begin waving back and forth like weeds in a storm. The dead of night in their stare as their mouths open to chant, a dark melodious sound that vibrates through every stone on the premises and that is sure to bestow a nightmare to every human heart close by.  Hundreds of arms raise themselves as they follow you and their leader, thousands of white flowers raining from their palms the white storm reflected in the pale colour of your orbs - “Let her rise -The queen of the night.”

A/N: The queen is an actual flower and is funnily enough associated with good fortune so I deemed it very fitting that if there was a vampire wedding ceremony that this flower would be included. 

I recommend looking at the music video from Leningrads “i_$uss” as it is incredibly well made in my opinion and the song served as my main inspiration for the oneshot. I warn you it is a bid graphic. I believe listening to it while reading this fic enhances the outwardly feeling that “you” may have felt in this clearly outwardly wedding haha. 

Happy spooky season everyone! 🕷 ⛧

[forrestfanfics]

Deepest Desires

Antisepticeye x killer!reader

In honour of Anti's return, I wrote this based off my old OC insert where he used my OC to kill people. This is also my first time posting here so the format and plot kinda sucks.

Summary: Anti used to "possess" reader and used her to do horrible things whilst manipulating her with love. After disappearing for 4 years, he returns to her to find that she's still as unstable.

TW: mentions of murder and dismemberment, possession, mention of multiple dead bodies, blood, angst, reader might be mentally unstable, brief mention of manipulation. (please tell me if I missed any :])

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There have been numerous reports of shady activity within the facility. But none as incredibly sickening as what happened tonight when a pile of dead bodies littered the halls.

Among the countless employees was Chase Brody, a 36-year-old who was reported missing some time ago.

Security footage was corrupted but managed to catch a five second clip of a shadowy figure floating down the hall right as the alarms began to blare.

Let's move to the scene where-

A light click and the television was switched off.

You let out a heavy sigh, wiping the stray tear that managed to slipped through despite your efforts to hold them in.

The remote was tossed aside rather aggressively while you tried to comprehend what you had just witnessed.

It couldn't be him.

You decided to forget about it. It couldn't be him. It's been way to long for him to just pop out of nowhere like that.

You looked down at the carpet, stitching your eyebrows together at the red stains. You really needed to clean that out soon before it settles.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled herself up from the arm chair and wandered into the kitchen where a kettle and tea bag were waiting on the counter.

You silently put together a cup of tea with much more honey than actual tea but no one was around to tell you off for it. Not anymore at least.

Staring down at the teacup, you noticed the blood stuck beneath your overgrown fingernails. With a shaky breath, you sighed.

The tips of your nails dug under the others, scraping out the gunk and leaving smudged of red behind. You've been getting sloppier at cleanup lately.

Defeated, you focused on the tea they claimed could help you relax.

Your heart clenched in your chest as you took a sip. The news broadcast replayed in your head over and over and over.

The five seconds of a shadowy figure stuck in your head on a loop like a broken cassette, slowly chipping away at your sorrow and replacing it piece by piece with pure fiery rage.

Your bandage-covered fingers gripped the tea cup with such force, it almost shattered in your grasp.

The box was wrong. The stupid tea did jack shit for you.

It's not fair. You thought

"It's for your own good, doll," you remembered him saying, watching as his shadowy form moved back into the body of your old Irish neighbour.

You grit your teeth at the stupid nickname you snapped at him for whenever he used it. You loathed the stupid hint of Irish in his voice whenever he spoke it.

You're doing so wonderfully, doll

You're my obedient little doll, aren't you?

Only the best for my doll

You've been bad today, doll

Doll...

Doll...

Doll...

Doll...

You let out a frustrated yell, lifting the cup over your head. "I'm not a fucking doll!" You screamed as you let go, chucking it as hard as your anger allowed.

The cup smashed into the wall right beside the kitchen doorway where a tall man leaned against the frame with his arms crossed.

He seemed unfazed by the shards of ceramic and boiling tea flying dangerously close to his face.

You let your breathing settle and stood upright, allowing your demeanour to change. Instead of anger, you just looked annoyed.

"Well, if you despised the nickname so much, why didn't you tell me to stop using it, you fucking moron?" His shaky, erratic voice sent shivers down your spine and you turned your body back toward the counter, resting your hands on the surface and putting all your weight on them.

The memory lit a flame within you.

You did. You told him time and time again, you hated it when he referred to you as a doll.

"I never referred to you as a doll, d-..." He paused when he realised his almost slip up.

"Y/N." He rolled his eyes in disgust as he spat your name like venom from a poisonous snake. "It was only a habit I developed because you were my..." He trailed off and narrowed his eyes at the back of your head and mumbled...

"You were mine."

You've forgotten how annoying it was for him to read your mind.

You clenched your fists against the marbled counter, spinning around and taking a few steps forward. "Why did you come back? How even?"

A small smirk formed on his pale, dead-looking face. "You know me, doll."

You scoffed at the use of that dreaded nickname again.

"Pathetic little Jack could never hold me for very long even if he sold his soul to the devil." It sounded almost maniacal when he laughed at his own dumb joke.

"You truly expect me to believe he held you in for four years?" You felt your heart sink at the obvious lie. If he wanted out, he could so easily achieve it.

"I don't understand why you even had to go back," you grumbled, ultimately deciding to leave the conversation.

But as you expected to walk right through the man, you were met with confusion upon bumping into his physical body.

You stumbled back and blinked a couple times in fearful shock.

"I-... How are you-"

His laugh returned, sounding much creepier up close. You were more surprised than angry right then.

"Why, I thought you and Jack-a-boy were the best of buds? Haven't you heard?" The smile on his face grew, revealing his sharp teeth and bloody gums, really shoving them in your face.

"He's dead," he laughed.

You felt uneasy. He wasn't just there to catch up. Something else was going on here and it was only just the beginning.

"I was finally able to take over his body and now you'll never have to endure his presence ever again."

You felt your soul leave your body when you finally realized what happened.

Your shaky hand landed on his shoulder, shoving him aside like you so desired to do all those times in the past when he bothered you. He didn't even flinch at your sudden aggression when you stormed out of the kitchen looking like you'd seen a ghost.

"You wanna know why I had to leave, darling?" He spoke, stopping you in your tracks.

"As a spirit, I couldn't stay too long outside of Jack's physical body. Being with you for months almost untethered me from it." He explained, watching as your head hung low and your shoulders slumped.

You hesitantly turned to meet his gaze. "But you were using my body..."

"As a puppet. A temporary host. Ever wonder why I never fully possessed you? Why I was only ever at the back of your mind?" He chuckled softly, pleased with how confused and furious you looked.

"If I used you too much, I would cut my connection to Jack and fully take over your body, ultimately killing you. And I couldn't let that happen to my darling, now, could I?"

You couldn't tell the difference between his sarcasm and honesty as he used the same petty tone when he was speaking either way.

"Well... Now you have the freedom to do anything you want without me. So why don't you leave?" You hugged your arms and made a hasty beeline for the front door of the apartment unit.

"Why? So you can clean the blood off the rug?"

You froze.

"So you have time to chop the body up and toss out the parts before the garbage truck arrives? You don't think I didn't notice this isn't your home?"

Your lips began to quiver as flashes of blood and fragments of a girl's face crossed your mind. For a moment, you glanced at the closet you temporarily stashed the body in.

"Please leave..." You quietly begged.

You finally felt the cold touch of Anti's hands on your jaw, lifting your head up to gaze into your eyes so full of emotions with his soulless ones.

"Look at you, my dear. Still such a mess even after I disappeared," he teased. "How'd you do it this time? Stabbed her with a knife? Choked her with a wire? Did you rip her apart with your bare hands?"

You reached up and shoved him away with a scoff. "This is your fault. You turned me into this! This... This- monster!" You cried.

"You think I did this?" Anti gestured to himself with an amused look on his face.

"Who else decided to use my body to murder people?" Your voice began to crack, unable to hold your tears in any longer.

"I never manipulated you into doing all those horrible things, Y/N..." Anti took a step forward, making you take one back.

"I never possessed you, Y/N." He moved forward, causing you to walk backwards, suddenly overtaken with fear as the man towered over you with a big toothy grin and wide pitch-black eyes.

"Your anger issues, your murder sprees..." Anti backed you up against a wall and leaned in to whisper into your ear. "Y/N, Darling... Don't blame me for all the things you did."

You stilled.

Realising too late that the danger you were about to experience was greater than you ever experienced with Anti in your life.

You felt yourself slipping away, body feeling numb and vision going blurry.

You tried to speak his name only to be met with a breathless whimper. And you finally felt empty as your eyes shifted from their normal hue to pitch black.

"I only enable your deepest desires"

[sirthisisa-wendys]

In Bloom: Alpha!Geto x Fem!Omega!Reader

synopsis: take a look at this ask

wc: 2.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Omega.

The lowest of the low.

You look at your reflection and ask the universe why you aren’t at least a beta. But today you and the other omegas would be passed off to various available and willing leaders of the pack, chosen only by scent.

“It’s not so bad,” your best friend, Geto Suguru, chimes in at breakfast, assuaging your fears. He’s an Alpha, but you know he wouldn’t choose you. You two were too close to consider being part of a household together; you had been best friends since you were young, and that was the extent of it - well, that’s what you knew was true. It’s not what you wanted to be true. “Plus, sometimes you’re not picked for mating, and you meet your mate later. It’s just an easier way to distribute enough people to avoid overwhelming each house.”

“The sniffing test sounds worse than it actually is,” your sister, Marie, chuckles, nudging her beta husband, Yuta. “You’ll see what I mean later.”

And later came sooner than you thought, you realize, standing in a room with the four other omegas in the pack who haven’t been claimed yet and are of age. Nostrils are flaring, eyes are dancing around, and your head is clouded with the smells of the other betas and alphas in the room in front of you.

“No one here is pleasing to me,” Nanami crosses his hands over his chest, looking at the head of the pack with disdain. Gojo shrugs, looking over the four of you with passing interest.

“Anyone?” Toji Fushiguro steps forward, eyeing you all carefully before picking Mei Mei, a small little thing that would definitely be dominated by him inside and outside the bedroom.

“I’ll add Mei Mei to my group.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, thankful that you wouldn’t be the one Toji picked. It was every girl’s worst fear - well, until he satisfied you in bed, of course. Rumors of his prowess in bed were enough to make any omega tense up, and he was famous for not having a single complaint come from his household about polyamory. In fact, both of his mates - Gunnar and Elizabeth - were some of the kindest and heartwarming people you had ever met, despite being mated the weapons handler for the pack.

“I’ll take Haibara,” Yuki, another Alpha, announces. You look over at the man - who had been waiting patiently for this moment - as he joined the only person he loved in the camp. Yuki’s choice had not been unexpected at all. But now it’s down to you and Urahime, and you eye her with curiosity. Would Geto choose her? Or would Gojo take her? Urahime was an introvert, and not really suited for being the head of the pack, so obviously--

“Urahime,” Gojo holds his hand out, and she shuffles toward him, her hair hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. You look over to Geto, who smiles and crosses his arms over his broad chest before nodding at you.

But wait--

“Come on, y/n.”

Wait, but wasn’t he-- didn’t he say--

Aren’t we just--

You’re still dumbfounded as he walks you to his - now your - home, which isn’t too far from yours. Geto didn’t have a mate, nor did he have anyone else in the house. That was why he spent so much time with you and your sister in your home.

“Just see this as the main house,” Geto announces as you climb the stairs behind him. “We can bounce between your old one and here if you’d like.”

“Wait,” you finally murmur, finding your voice. “Why did you choose me? Was it because I was last?” Geto turns around, raising a brow as his hand lingers on the doorknob to his bedroom.

“I would’ve picked you first if we hadn’t cast lots to see what order we would go in. I lost this time.” He swings open the door, and you see the room has completely changed from what it used to be. What used to be a bachelor’s pad with flannel sheets, LED lights, gaming consoles, and a massive TV on the wall has become a light-filled room with grey curtains, cotton sheets, a bookshelf, and two comfortable chairs by the unused fireplace instead of swivel chairs and a banner that covered up the brick enclosure.

“You redid the room…” you breathe as you walk past him, and he smiles a toothy grin, watching you take in the transformed space. “All of this for me?” You touch the comforter, and eye the row of candles beside a wooden desk - all things that weren’t there before.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Am I here just to take care of the home? I understand if that’s the case. I’d be happy to--”

“Let’s talk about it over lunch,” he murmurs, and you jog to the kitchen downstairs. Your sister is already there, apparently coming in through the side door that’s closer to your former residence. She’s just finishing up making pulled pork sandwiches, and you help her set them on the dining room table.

“Not so bad, huh?” she laughs at you, and you shrug.

“I mean, staying with Suguru and helping out until he meets his mate is enough for me,” you smile, placing a bag of chips onto the table. Your sister raises her brow but says nothing else while you work. When you finish setting the table, you all take your places and begin to eat, the silence deafening. You glance at Geto, hoping he will explain your duties while you stay here, but he just looks at Yuta, who glares back at him.

“Just spit it out, Suguru,” your sister gripes, and Geto sighs, placing his sandwich back on his plate.

“So, y/n. I know today you joined my household, and I want to tell you why.”

“Sure,” you shift in your seat, placing a chip in your mouth before Suguru announces,

“I want to be mated to you.” Saliva and chip pieces create a blockage in your throat, and you cough, eyes falling to your lap as your sister pats your back roughly.

“Me?” you finally croak, still choking a little. “Are you sure? We’re friends, Geto, not--”

“I would hope that would come with time. But I wanted to know if you would stay with me. You can say no and move back into the house with your sister; I won’t be hurt.”

“It’s not like you would be doing anything you’re uncomfortable with,” your sister adds. “All of this will be at your pace.”

You scoot your chair back, and whisper, “I need some time to think.”

_____________________________________________________________

Your time to think about everything lasted more than one night. It lasted almost a whole two weeks, you realize when you look up from your wooden desk. Geto had given you the room to yourself, choosing to huddle on the couch downstairs or retreat to his study when necessary.

You hadn’t really touched on the prospect of mating with him the entire time, not wanting to betray your feelings for him as a big brother, but the part of you that saw him as a handsome and caring man (and potential mate) wouldn’t go away. Actually, it just grew as you cohabitated with him and learned more about him.

But today would be especially difficult, you remember, rubbing your thighs together. You look over at the collections of pillows and one stolen hoodie from Suguru’s closet. You try your best to avoid being near him because you know what kind of overdrive your heat would throw him into. So you stayed in your room for most of the time, using the master bathroom, and only coming out to eat when you knew he left to run an errand. Your stomach growls angrily, and you clutch at it, hoping Suguru would go out for lunch and leave you so you could grab food and just be left alone to decide what you want to do if anything. You pick up your phone and frantically text your sister:

SOS, need food

Within a moment, your phone buzzes and Marie replies:

Can’t you ask Suguru?

You furiously type:

No! Last day of pre-heat.

Seconds later, a knock at your door startles you so bad that you almost leap out of your seat, and you call out, “Yes?” The door opens to your dismay, and Suguru peeks his head in, his wet hair and grey shirt appearing first. Should’ve locked the door.

“Marie told me to check on you, are you…” He examines the nest of blankets, pillows, and the stolen hoodie, and the confusion in his eyes vanishes. “Oh.” You try not to grimace, but he closes the door behind him, retreating down the stairs then reappearing with a carton of juice and a bag of trail mix.

“I keep these around, just in case,” he explains, then walks out of the room. “Lock your door,” he warns, then shuts it behind him with finality.

_____________________________________________________________

The knob jiggles in the middle of the night.

That’s when you know your heat has started.

“You okay in there, y/n?” Suguru murmurs, lips pressed to the crack of the door. You shift the large blanket off of you and wipe the sweat from your face.

“I’m fine,” you croak and rub your face slowly. “Just tired.”

“L-let me know if you need anything.” You hear him slump against the door and slide down, effectively blocking any and all exits. “Do you want to go home to your sister?” he calls out, and you groan.

“No.” You didn't want to inconvenience your sister and Yuta in this way, and she’d already snitched on you once in hopes that your heat would push you and Suguru together.

“Sure you don’t need anything?”

“N-no.” You whisper, and he falls silent, no doubt attempting to figure out how he can get on the other side of the door. No, you still had to decide. If you held out for long enough, you’d find out that his feelings were just figments of your imagination, and Geto couldn’t be interested in an Omega like you. He needed a Beta, a beautiful one that could match him in every way. You’re not that woman, and you could never be.

“Y/n…” You perk up at the way he whines your name, and inch closer to the door. “Let me in. Please.”

You hold a hand to the smooth wood, closing your eyes and letting it fall to your lap.

“You need a strong mate,” you answer, shaking your head. “I’m not the right one for you.” You stare at the doorknob with longing. You could open the door and let him in, but what would happen when he moved on to someone better? You’d be crushed, settling into the reality that you’re just a replaceable Omega.

“I don’t want anyone but you. No beta or other omega could be perfect for me. Not like you are, y/n.” When you don’t answer, Suguru murmurs, “Remember when we were in the park when you got your first heat?” You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I swore you knocked me flat on my ass right then and there. I knew I didn’t want anyone else from then on, but I had to fight Gojo once you ran off with your sister to go home.” He chuckles, as if this happened yesterday and not when you were seventeen, which was five years ago.

Your hand is reaching for the doorknob before you can stop it, and you unlock the door, anticipating Suguru to burst in and ravage you. But when he opens the door, he walks in slowly, taking stock of you on the floor and in an old t-shirt of his. He’s still in a grey shirt and joggers from before, his hair pulled back like always.

When he crouches down to face you, you’re shaking - whether it’s from fear or from excitement, you can’t tell. Either way, when Suguru places his hand on your cheek, you feel all of your nerves drift away. He taps a kiss to your nose, then tilts your head up to kiss you on the lips, holding you close by the neck. Once he’s done kissing your mouth, he trails below your chin, lips making a path to your collarbone.

“Get this off me,” you moan, and he flips his shirt off of you, tossing it into your nest before lifting you and taking you to the bed. He lays on top of you, spreading your legs wide while you jerk your hips up to meet his palm.

“I know you want to go fast,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your mouth. “But let’s go slow. Take our time, hmm?” You whine, a fire building in the pit of your stomach while he smooths his fingers and lips over your skin. “I’ve waited for this for years.”

“Please take me now,” you plead, and Suguru shakes his head, diving past your underwear and sliding a finger into you easily.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how you got so turned on, but damn Suguru is going incredibly slow. You grunt in displeasure and your hands feverishly push down his joggers, letting his hard length spring free without hesitation. Suguru is taken aback at your show of aggression, but he follows it with his own, taking his teeth and raking them up your leg.

“Can’t hold back, huh,” he wonders, finally shucking his pants off. The dark-eyed Alpha removes your underwear and spreads your legs, pumping his cock a few times before nestling into your heat. You both give a loud groan of pleasure, which rocks you to your core as he sinks into you before pulling out, then thrusting back inside of you. You keen as he angles his hips so that your hips are meeting him easily without a single ounce of resistance.

“Please, Su,” you whisper, holding him close as he fucks you senseless. A haze settles in over you and you’re lost, wandering around aimlessly in your mind as he continues to pump into you. There’s no pain, no fear, no nothing. Just you and Suguru mating in your bed with abandon.

A stretching feeling fills you towards your entrance, and you pant, feeling even more full than before.

“S-Suguru…” you hiccup, but he hushes you, still pushing into you as his hand ghosts over your cheek.

“It’s okay… everything’s okay…” His fingers are shaking, but you don’t know why. Even so, something in you shifts, and you feel the burning fire roaring to life in your stomach. You grip him a little harder and cry out his name, which makes him lean forward, mouth open. At first, you think he’s going to kiss your neck, but when you feel his teeth graze a sensitive spot and then press down, you know what’s happening immediately. His scent explodes tenfold and you do the same, biting into his neck with equal pressure and feeling a trickle of blood run from the spot after a while.

The feelings that flood in are incredibly overwhelming, and you suddenly lose all sense of time, space, and knowledge. A loud exhalation is ripped from your throat, and Suguru echoes your sound a few moments later, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

A few minutes pass, and he’s recovered considerably, the mark on his neck still fresh with blood but not as red. His knot has only gone down a fraction, but you don’t mind. Your thoughts are like water and mist, just flowing past you easily, nothing sticking for too long.

“Talk to me,” Suguru whispers, but you can’t reply, your mind landing on one word, but then ghosting it away as soon as you go to speak it. All you can do is rest in his arms, nuzzling him close and closing your eyes.

BONUS:

As you rest with your back against Suguru’s chest, he’s making that sound while rubbing your swollen stomach. The sound is like a croon - bordering on a purr - and whenever he does it, it soothes you to the point of sleepiness. Your pup is tossing and turning despite Suguru’s soothing motions, and you wonder what your pup would be for a second before Yuki and Haibara appear in the backyard.

The sounds of greetings from the other pack members echo around the large space, and you watch them hand over a plate of uncooked steaks to Yuta, who is busy flipping the meat on the grill. Yuki approaches you, hands out to touch your bump as Haibara chats with Gojo and a two-year-old Yuji.

“I say it’s an Alpha by how much it keeps you up at night,” Yuki speculates, and you laugh, praying to God you wouldn't have a mini-Suguru running around the house any time soon. Gojo would very easily snatch him (or her) up and train them how to be “the strongest”, which wouldn’t bode well for your doors or kitchen cabinets.

“I’ve been telling her it’s an Alpha,” Geto chimes in, and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Are you going to also tell Yuki here what you said about the Fushiguro’s son?”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I only said Megumi would make a great Omega.”

“And Toji told you to eat shit.” Yuki leans back and cackles, holding her stomach.

“Sounds just like Toji.” You let the two alphas continue their conversation, tuning them out and watching Megumi run across the grass with Yuji and Nobara.

“You know, there’s only one thing worse than a curse user,” You hear Gojo mutter to Toji, and the green-eyed man nods.

“Yeah, a child.”

[ptergwen]

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

-

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When he sleep talks

Original title: 当他说梦话

Original author: 君兮耶君兮

[ VICTOR ]

It’s nighttime, and Victor is sound asleep beside you. With a practised hand, you feel for your phone from underneath the pillow. Tapping open the e-novel application, you start “committing a crime”.

Since he has repeatedly prohibited you from staying up late to use your phone, you carefully scrutinise Victor’s actions, deathly afraid that he’d suddenly wake up and catch you red-handed.

“Dummy...”

The rustling of fabric drifts from behind you as Victor turns over. A large hand wraps itself around your waist, and you instinctively lock your phone and hide it beneath your pillow, pretending to be asleep.

A long time passes without any further movements from the person behind you. Turning your head slightly to observe the situation, you discover that he’s still asleep. What happened earlier was simply him sleep talking. Relieved, you feel for your phone again, continuing with your little antics.

Soon after, the person behind you begins to mumble again. “It’s not that I don’t like you.”

Your finger pauses on the screen. You seem to have heard something interesting? As someone in the media industry, the acuteness in your DNA causes you to tap on the recorder app to capture what’s going on.

Victor’s chin rests against your head. Cushioned on his arm, you can clearly hear what he’s saying. “I’ll always like you.”

“Who?” You whisper.

“Dummy.” He responds quickly. If you hadn’t verified it earlier, you might have suspected that he wasn’t sleeping at all.

The corners of your lips curl into a slight smile. Closing the recorder app, you place your phone down. Scooting backwards against him, you sink into a peaceful sleep.

-

While Victor is preparing breakfast the next day, you lift your hand and wave your phone in front of him triumphantly. “Victor, you confessed to me last night!”

He cracks an egg into the frying pan. Hearing what you said, he remains unaffected as he continues to cook. “You had a dream?”

“No, it’s the truth!” 

You knew he wouldn’t believe you, which is why you had the recording prepared.

“...”

After hearing it, Victor turns off the fire. He takes your phone to check its veracity, then returns it to you with a glance and a dry laugh. “You recorded this at 1.13am. Looks like a certain someone slept pretty late last night.”

Your heart sinks, and you completely forget about the recording as you retort. “No I didn’t! You saw wrongly!”

How could he not understand you? While he metes out the punishment, he places a plate of warm omelette into your hands. “From tonight onwards, you’ll sleep half an hour earlier than before. You’ll also give your phone to me.”

[ GAVIN ]

If you hadn’t witnessed it personally, you never would have believed that the all-powerful Officer Gavin would turn into a clingy little wolf at night.

-

Returning from a mission, Gavin manages to fall into a deep sleep when it’s still relatively early. Grabbing a book, you sit on the bed to keep him company. Reaching out to cover him with a blanket, you suddenly hear Gavin’s voice.

“I want a hug.”

Finding this humorous, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. As though you’re coaxing a child, you pat him on the back. “Here you go.”

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.” You aren’t sure what he’s dreaming about, but his brows are tightly knit, and he seems uneasy.

This causes your heart to ache, and you respond gently. “Silly Gavin. I won’t leave you.”

Perhaps hearing this assurance, Gavin presses himself against you. After a while, he clicks his tongue, muttering hazily. “I want a homemade bento.”

This is the first time Gavin is asking for a bento directly. Before, he always dropped hints along the lines of, “Sometimes, my colleagues would bring homemade bentos”. You feel tickled by this. A childish Officer Gavin is especially adorable, and adorable children always get special treatment. “Okay, I’ll prepare it for you tomorrow.”

Gavin mumbles to himself softly. “The dishes in the canteen aren’t as delicious as what you make.”

Your smile falls. Didn’t he mention that STF doesn’t have a canteen? 

Putting on a professional smile, you lean closer to him and whisper into his ear. “Gavin, what’s the salary of the aunties working in the STF canteen?”

“$620 a month.” Gavin responds without hesitation.

“Good. Very good.” You straighten up, smiling wryly as you flip to the next page of the book, as though nothing had happened.

-

“I’m off.” Gavin gives you a goodbye kiss, his spirits high as he heads out of the door carrying an exquisitely wrapped bento box.

“Be safe!” Your smile is the same as every morning.

“Gav, what delicious food did she prepare for you today?” Eli pulls Tang Chao over so he can experience the pain of being single too.

Mentioning the homemade bento brings a smile to Gavin’s eyes. While responding, he opens up the bento. “I don’t know either. She was really secretive about it in the morning, and said I should only look at it at noon...” 

Very soon, he isn’t able to continue smiling. Slices of green bitter gourd are neatly laid out in the box. Aside from that, there’s nothing else inside.

“HAHAHAHA. Does sis-in-law want to help relieve your internal heat?” Eli chuckles boisterously, and Tang Chao’s shoulders tremble from suppressing his laughter.

The chopsticks in Gavin’s hand are on the verge of snapping. As they continue rubbing salt into his wound, the chopsticks curve.

He shoots them a glare. “Get out!”

“Gav, don’t murder your squad mates!”

[Trivia] One of Gavin’s “Go See Him” lines is - “There isn’t a canteen in STF, but the nearby eateries aren’t bad.”

However, in an official post about Loveland City, it’s revealed that there IS a canteen. This has been a running joke in the CN community because we still don’t know if it’s a mistake by Papergames or if Gavin really lied to MC so that she’d make him bentos (っ˘ω˘ς )

[ LUCIEN ]

Mr Lucien has always lacked a sense of security, and this is something you’re well aware of. However, the vulnerabilities he reveals to you are mostly meant to tease you, or used to stir up sympathy. You can only get a glimpse of his genuine unease after Lucien falls asleep.

“Mm...” Lucien’s eyes are shut tight, as though he’s having a nightmare.

Since you drank a cup of milk tea before heading to bed, you aren’t drowsy at all. Sensing Lucien’s movements, you pat the large hand wrapped around your waist. “What’s wrong?” you whisper.

Thinking that Lucien is feeling uncomfortable due to the heat, you attempt to put some distance between the both of you. However, the arm around your waist tightens. Not knowing if he’s awake or not, you don’t dare to move much.

Lucien embraces his treasure as he mumbles to himself. “My... Little Butterfly belongs only to me...”

You smile in resignation. Lucien has always been stubborn when it comes to staking his claim on something. This doesn’t upset you. In fact, you have the impulse to tease him even though he’s asleep. “Really?”

“We’ll see who dares to snatch you away.” Lucien’s brows furrow even more, dyeing his expression with an intimidating aura.

Having a bad feeling that you accidentally stepped on a landmine, you decide to soothe the atmosphere so that Professor Lucien wouldn’t feel troubled in his sleep. Before you can do so, you hear a dry chuckle. “A collaborative partner? Hmph.”

The threatening tone in his voice causes you to tremble, and an iciness travels up your spine and into your brain. You instinctively tense up, and you decide to wake him up.

“Lu...”

“Pete, could you bring me that box of scalpels?” His gloomy voice makes him seem like an entirely different person. “Little Butterfly, you can only be mine. Forever.”

You shut your mouth. The Ultima Bioresearch Centre measures its scalpels in boxes?

Sensing your movements, Lucien opens his eyes slowly. In the haze of drowsiness, he kisses your hair while speaking with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your survival instincts cause you to shrink your neck backwards, and you nuzzle into the arms of the big fox. “Goodnight.”

[ KIRO  ]

“Miss... Chips...”

A soft mumble rouses you from the world of novels. Turning your head, you watch as Kiro is sprawled on the bed, quietly tugging the blanket over his bare chest.

Kiro nuzzles the pillow with a slight frown. It seems as if he’s dreaming about something troubling. “Miss Shrimp Strips...”

Your fingers pause on the screen when you hear this familiar yet unfamiliar term of address. Although the both of you often eat shrimp strips, he has never called you “Miss Shrimp Strips”. Does Kiro have another snack in his life?

Thinking of this possibility, your expression turns cold, and you decide to observe further. After waiting for such a long time that you start to doubt if you were merely hallucinating earlier, he finally speaks. “Miss Drumstick...”

Okay. You didn’t mishear earlier. There’s a Miss Drumstick now.

“Miss Popcorn...”

It’s said that dreams portray the most genuine reflections of reality. What one thinks about in the morning is what one dreams about at night. You never imagined that Kiro would be this sneaky in his dreams. Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to him.

The arm of justice reaches out to the unsuspecting Kiro. The second before his head is ripped off, he suddenly twitches, giving you a fright and causing you to pause.

“No! All of you are fakes!” His voice carries with it a sense of righteousness.

There’s a dramatic twist in his dream?

Kiro releases a “hmph”. He shakes off the blanket with a hand before exclaiming, “I, Kiro Bohu, will find the genuine Miss Chips!’

You burst into laughter. If you’d known earlier, you wouldn’t have forced him to watch “Tang Bohu Spots Autumn Fragrance" with you earlier. Covering him with the blanket properly, you pat his golden coloured hair. “Your Miss Chips is right here.”

As though he’s able to hear this, Kiro curls his four limbs as he nuzzles against you. “Mm... Miss Chips...”

“Goodnight, Mr Chips.”

[ SHAW ]

“Tsk.”

A noise sounds in the quiet and still room, causing your fingers to pause. Did he realise that you’re staying up? You quickly turn around to look at Shaw behind you. 

At this moment, his eyes are shut tight, his breathing is even, and he doesn’t seem to be awake. You heave a sigh of relief. As long as you don’t get caught, you'd continue using your phone.

“What’s that?”

Another sound drifts over, but it sounds a little unhappier than before.

“What’s what?” You find yourself responding instinctively after growing accustomed to retorting him.

Shaw purses his lips, and he appears to be having an unpleasant dream. You shift a little further away, afraid that he’d progress from simply retorting to whacking you.

Shaw turns over, unable to break free from his dream. “Dragonfly Eye. Don’t lose it again.”

“Your dream’s pretty exaggerated.” You roll your eyes. You’ve only lost the Dragonfly Eye once - and it was 99% due to a certain someone’s “assistance”.

Shaw doesn’t seem to have had his fill yet. He adds another grumble.

“Silly woman.”

The familiar term of address leaves absolutely no doubt that his current dream involves you. You take a deep breath. “Carry on if you dare!”

“Stupid.” 

Even when he’s asleep, Shaw is the same as when he’s awake, meeting you head-on.

Fuming, you give him a kick to the butt, sending him off the bed.

Shaw is startled awake. He scans his surroundings in confusion, then covers his injured area while standing up, gritting his teeth. “What’s up with you!”

You respond with a glare. “You insulted me! Twice! You pig!”

Shaw, who was kicked awake but has no idea what happened: ???

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source