#whispers in the dark triad

[ellawrites-if]

Development blog for the upcoming IF: The Whisper in the Mist. This IF is based on Pacific Rim media (with a focus on the 2013 film).

Asks are welcome (including explicit asks).

Rated 18+ for explicit language, unhealthy coping methods, dark humour, mental health issues, character death, sexual content (optional), violence, blood, gore, mutilation and body horror, and murder and attempted murder. Will be updated as needed.

Setting: Tsing Yi Island, Hong Kong (with futuristic elements).

Other IF account: @kalorphic

When I was a kid, whenever I'd feel small or lonely...I'd look up at the stars and wonder if there was life up there. Turns out I was looking in the wrong direction.

When alien life entered our world it was from deep beneath the Pacific Ocean. A fissure between two tectonic plates. A portal between dimensions.

They called it the Breach.

- Raleigh Beckett (Pacific Rim).

It’s funny how quickly things can change.

One minute you’re on top of the world, then the next, your world is crumbling down around you…

Five years ago, you and your drift partner had the highest success rates of any Jaeger pilots. Now, one horrific tragedy and a hasty promotion later, you’re pushing pencils thousands of miles away from the place you called home.

That is, until a Kaiju with stealth abilities like nothing that’s ever been seen before crawls out of the Breach.

Recalled back into service, you’re forced to team up with your once rival under the command of your former drift partner, and the advice of two scientists who seem more interested in the Kaiju’s than your safety. All while someone with more money than sense attempts to undermine you at every turn.

With everything seemingly against you, will you take up the mantle of hero once more or will you let the darkness plaguing your mind consume you?

Customisable MC (including name, pronouns, appearance, and identity). Personality is semi-set (MC uses humour and sarcasm as a coping method for their trauma) for a majority of the time, however there will be chances for character development and therefore more personality choices.

Pilot a Jaeger, fight Kaiju’s, and keep the world safe all while battling your own demons.

Five characters are available to romance. Two are only romanceable in a (triad) poly.

Found family.

RO PoVs.

Befriend (and potentially adopt) a baby Kaiju. Also give your dog lots of love.

Ciaran O’Doherty [M/F] - Hot-tempered and viciously in denial of the love they have for you that has only seemed to grow in your absence, Ciaran is your newly assigned drift partner and self-proclaimed rival. [PROFILE].

Killian Zhao [M/F] - Once a talented pilot and your former drift partner, Killian is now your formidable and highly respected commanding officer with a soft spot reserved just for you. [PROFILE].

Brin Kazlauskas [M/F/NB] - Waspish, fastidious, and someone that no one wants to be on the wrong side of, Brin is a K-Science officer with a wicked protective streak towards Zai and you . Only romanceable in a poly with Zai. [PROFILE].

Zai Oumarou [M/F/NB] - Despite a somewhat anxious disposition around those xe doesn’t know, Zai is a K-Science officer with a lot of enthusiasm and a deep curiosity towards Kaiju. Only romanceable in a poly with Brin. [PROFILE].

Ajax Nikolaou [M!NB/F!NB] - With a twisted determination to be a giant pain in your ass, Ajax is the ruthless CEO of Nikolaou Industries, a company that seeks to make the Pan Pacific Defense Corps completely redundant. [PROFILE].

Ferelith [F] - The baby Kaiju with a sweet character that was rescued by Zai, Ferelith loves cuddles, Lord of the Rings (according to Zai), and munching on Brin’s lab coat.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 7 — Trouble in Paradise

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

A/N: MFW the silly little smut drabble series I started over winter break starts developing a plot :o

Lmaooo I should have seen this coming. Be patient with me, I'm in a creative writing MFA program so fanfic isn't my priority rn but this series is begging to be written so I'm going to follow those vibes as far as they take me, just bear with me if updates are sporadic.

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Of course, there’s a learning curve that comes with a Triad Bond. Sex is the easy part—being in a relationship with two bullheaded Illyrian males is more complicated.

Rhys tried his best not to send any of you on solo missions but, inevitably, something came up and Azriel had to go undercover in the Court of Nightmares. It’s a top-secret mission and he has to block you and Cassian out the entire time he’s there, lest someone learn the true reason for his visit.

And… it was a lot easier to be a spy without two mates waiting for him back home. His mental shields are ironclad, trapping all the frustration and sadness behind closed doors, but it seeps out in other ways. His shadows are way more vicious than they normally are and, after long days spent playing nice with Keir and his cronies, as soon as his bedroom door locks behind him, he fists his cock in quick strokes. It takes a matter of minutes for him to spill himself into the mattress with how pent-up he is.

Things aren’t much better in Velaris. Sure, you and Cas have each other, but the bond hates the dark hole where Az should be and no matter how hard you try to soothe the ache, it never goes away.

Cassian throws himself into training; on days he doesn’t have other work to do, he flies out to Windhaven and spends the day beating the shit out of anyone who dares challenge him. When he comes home late at night, you patch him up with soft, delicate touches and hold him until his tears dry up.

Sex isn’t the same without Azriel there, either. You try to hold out; it feels wrong without him, but everything boils over a week into his absence.

Cassian spent the day in Windhaven, again, and you wait up with a book and a cup of tea but it’s morning when he slams through the door drenched in blood and reeking like the mixed-together contents of a liquor cabinet.

“Cas?” You mumble, lifting your head off the couch cushion and rubbing your eyes as you push yourself into a sitting position. He stomps past you into the bedroom and you hear the water running as he fills the bath. Stifling a yawn, you push through the nausea swirling in your gut and follow him on your tiptoes.

When you push the washroom door open, you see his broad shoulders bent over the edge of the half-filled tub, bloodied and shaking with the force of his sobs.

You surge forward and fall to your knees next to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whisper, rubbing his back. His head drops to your chest and you feel his rumbling anger in your soul.

Y/N? It’s Rhys’ voice in your head, tentative and sheepish. Is he okay?

No, you snarl back, immediately feeling guilt for the harshness of your words. But Ariel is gone, Cassian is broken, and your heart is torn in two. You force yourself to be gentler as you ask: Is there something I should know?

Rhys hesitates. Devlon called me in to fetch him this morning and… it wasn’t pretty. I’ll send word to Madja and tell her you’re going to be out for a few days.

Before you can protest, he continues. I know you’ve been working overtime. You’re running yourself ragged, Y/N. You need a break just as much as he does.

Rhysand cuts off the mental connection in the middle of your indignant huff, but the gears in your mind are turning. Instead of turning to each other in Az’s absence, you’ve been burying yourselves in solitude and work. Clearly, something has to change.

You loosen the strip of leather holding Cas’s hair up and sprinkle deep purple healing magic into it as you run your fingers through his thick locks. It’s just enough to calm him down, sobs tapering off into shuddering breaths.

“Cas?” You ask when he finally stills, slumping boneless against you. “Whose blood is this?”

He tilts his head back, guilt filling in every line on his face, and your heart clenches. No wonder Rhys offered to talk to Madja for you; he probably needed her to fix whatever damage Cassian’s misplaced anger had caused.

“‘M sorry,” Cas whispers, burying his face in your neck again. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“Shhh,” you shushed him, curling one arm to cradle his head. “I know you didn’t, baby. Rhys does too. This is new territory for all of us, and there were bound to be some kinks to work out.” Cas nods against you and you squeeze him as tight as you can, channeling love and healing magic through the bond. Behind you, the tub is full of steamy hot water, so you wave your hand to get rid of Cas’s clothes and help him into the bath.

When he’s settled, you shed your nightgown and get in with him. He rests his head against the side of the tub and lets you run a bar of soap over the planes of his muscles, healing bruises and scrapes as you find them.

"Thank you," he whispers once you’ve finished. He reaches one hand out and pulls you against his chest without opening his eyes.

The bond settles as much as it can without a third anchor to tether itself to. You lay there, basking in the soft glow of your mingling magic, until suddenly Cassian stands up, pushing you off him.

“Sorry,” he grunts when you fall forward, splashing into the water. “I just…” You follow his gesturing hand down the V of his hips and the problem stares out at you—long, thick, and hard. “I dunno, it feels wrong without Az.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, torn between the mouth-watering sight of him on display, just inches from your face, and the guilt bubbling up inside you. In the end, the bond makes the decision for you, practically shoving you forward to pull Cas’s cock in between your lips.

His protests are dead on arrival; you don’t even hear them, too focused on pouring all your pent-up sexual frustration out onto him.

After just a few minutes, his hips are bucking wildly and he forces himself to pull back. You look up at him with wide eyes and saliva dripping down your chin, and he growls, tugging you out of the tub so he can shove you against the wall. He drops to his knees and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, devouring you like a man starved.

With no patience left for teasing, he fucks you with his tongue, plunging deep into your core until you’re writhing against him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, tumbles out of your head and into his as the pleasure builds and builds.

That's it, baby, he sends back down the bond, digging into your sweet spot with one of his fingers. Let go for me.

Your body follows his command, the tightly wound coil inside of you snapping as soon as you have permission. He grins against you as you fuck his face, riding out your high.

As soon as he pulls away, he’s got his hands under your ass, hauling you up into his arms as he presses his cock into your slick folds. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as your head drops back against the wall.

It’s quick and dirty. Without Azriel there to force you to slow down and savor each other, you’re teetering on the edge of a second orgasm before you’ve fully recovered from the first. Cassian’s thrusts grow sloppier and you feel through the bond that his release is looming.

When he ducks his head to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, both of you lose the last of your self-control. Cas drives his hips into you and fills you up, tipping you over the cliff. You clench your walls around him as your release comes gushing out.

Meanwhile, in one of the training rooms under the mountain, a wave of something washes over Az as he’s running through drills against a training dummy with Truth Teller. At first, he thinks it’s nausea and regrets not stopping by the kitchens to grab a bite earlier, but the ache is too low to be coming from his stomach.

When he reaches one gloved hand to palm himself through his leathers, he’s shocked to find his cock solid and straining against the fabric. He thanks the Mother that he’s training alone today and makes quick work of it.

Three weeks into Az’s mission, Mor heads under the mountain to check on him under the guise of visiting her father. She enters the dining room and immediately realizes that something is wrong. There’s a woman sitting to Kier’s right, and Az is on her other side. His shadows nip at Mor’s toes like she’s the enemy as she takes her seat on her father’s left.

He refuses to speak to her, but when they make eye contact during dessert, his eyes are dark and stormy, filled with shadows of their own.

When she retires to her room later that night, she reports back to Rhys who orders her to pull Az out as soon as she can.

Despite the fact that they haven’t slept together in decades, it’s easy to slip back into old habits. The next morning at breakfast, she lays it on thick. By dinner time, her father merely waves them off when she requests the Shadowsinger for her own personal reasons.

“Go on then,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll let the High Lord know when I require your presence next.”

As soon as they’ve both gathered their belongings, Mor winnows them away. When his feet touch solid ground, Az shoves her away with a snarl. His shadows surge forward to cushion her back and prevent her from falling; even blinded by his anger, he doesn't want to hurt her.

“What the fuck,” he growls. “I wasn’t done!”

“I have orders to pull you out of there. Rhys thinks you’ve gone in too deep.” Az growls like a feral animal being forced into a cage.

“Rhysand needs me in there now more than ever. Something’s happening, Mor. Something big, and I was working my way in, I—“

Mor cuts him off, holding a hand up to silence him.

“You think I don’t know that? Whether I like it or not, that’s my father. I know something’s up, but Rhys needs you in there, Azriel. And you’re not you right now. You’re cold and ruthless, not thinking clearly after too much time away from your mates.”

Az deflates and drops onto the sofa behind him. It’s the worn old leather one in Rhys’s mother’s cottage, in Windhaven. Mor sits down next to him, rubbing a hand across his shoulders, careful to avoid brushing against his wings which are rigid and full of tension.

“It’s not your sole responsibility to save the world, Az. You’re an excellent spy, but you’re more than that, too. Don’t let the tunnel vision take over.”

Az drops his head into his hands, letting out all of the air in his lungs with one deep sigh. He knows she’s right, that the bond should be a strength and not a weakness, but he’s terrified that something will happen to his mates. He couldn’t risk it, not when he was down there.

But that wasn’t his decision to make alone. The more he fought against the bond, the more it fought back, rattling his brain and tugging at every one of his senses. The effort to keep it bottled up drained his energy until all he could see was the mission, his purpose. Gathering information about the woman, Amarantha, became the most important thing in his life.

So he feels like a bit of an asshole when he turns up on your doorstep with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and only a faint shimmer of the bond left flickering inside his chest. It’s not enough to keep him tethered to the two of you, so he has no idea how you're feeling, but he forces himself to knock on the door, anyway.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting your arm drop from the doorknob to your side. On your end, the bond bursts into bright golden flames that shoot down, making a beeline for Azriel.

It tugs at Cas’s side, too, and then his head pops up behind your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says, flashing the dopiest grin that Azriel has ever seen.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @hnyclover

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 19

paranormal fantasy vampire x human eventual triad (x werewolf)

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Links under cut!

x x x x x

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

In your quickly fading consciousness, you realize Tabaeus has let go of your hands. Their own grip at your shoulders, long spindly fingers trembling. Turning your face toward the hand on your right, away from Tabaeus’s feasting mouth, you find your sight blurring. 

Before unconsciousness claims you, you press a gentle kiss to the back of their palm. Driven to somehow comfort the vampire, even at such a discordant juncture. Their fingers flex, claws digging into your skin as something akin to another sob bubbles up from their mouth.

That’s the last thing you hear as darkness pulls you under. 

---

The next morning, Tabaeus is gone. 

They must have called to Lachlan in the middle of the night, swept off into the darkness. Faintly, you remember a touch on your cheek, whispered words, but it is all so muddled in your groggy head. 

You sit in the kitchen, hunched over the table, head in your hands. The bowl of cereal you had blearily made for yourself sits uneaten, growing soggier by the second. Heat burns in your eyes, but the tears don’t fall. Just hover at the edge of your lids and burn at your nose.

“They thralled us while we slept. Probably to keep us dead asleep while they left.” Across from you, Ewan sits sprawled in his chair. His head leans back, his hand pressing to his own forehead. “Feels like a godsdamn hangover.”

“That fucking asshole,” you sigh, shoving your cereal further away. You cross your arms and lay your head down on them, trying to ignore the anger and sadness churning inside your chest. To know Tabaeus would still thrall you, even after you bent to their request, makes bile crawl up your throat.

You don’t even look up as Ewan asks, “What’s our plan now?”

“What do you mean, what now? Tabaeus is gone,” you mumble, words muffled by your arms. Depressed resignation weighs heavily in your chest and in your words.

You catch movement as Ewan shifts. Something in the air shifts and you think he’s looking at you now. “You don’t want to go find them?” 

“Can we even find them?” Hopeless, you cross your arms atop the table and flump your head down into your arms. Lachlan was obviously powerful and Tabaeus was no schmuck when it came to his powers either. If neither wanted to be found, could you and Ewan have any hope to track them down?

Ewan’s silence answers your question. If Tabaeus didn’t want to be found, if he was so intent on just disappearing from your lives - both of your lives, really - could either of you find him? You don’t even know what kind of underground society vampires operated in. How hard would it be to dig them out? How many had centuries of experience, of power, to wield?

Silence descended on the two of you, as you both stew in woe. It was only when a small, unfamiliar voice interrupted the pity party that you looked up, “You can find him.”

On the table, the rodents Tabaeus had brought home stare at you. Confused, you push yourself up in a proper sitting position and glance around, ignoring the fact the sugar gliders somehow got out of their cage. The only other person present, however, is Ewan. And he’s staring wide-eyed at the sugar gliders. Without realizing it, you have braced for his question before he mutters, “Why are the sugar gliders talking?” 

“We’re imps, thank you very much,” Liuva, the lighter of the two gliders, titters as their nose twitches. At the disbelieving look that you and Ewan shoot, they comically heave a sigh that makes the sugar glider equivalent of shoulders rise and fall. Before your very eyes, the sugar gliders shift, the fur falling away and becoming a cape, leaving two very small, human-ish figures standing atop the table. 

Both spindly figures had dark black eyes and markings on their grey-toned skin, long pointed ears peeking out from their hair. The only distinct difference between the two was the color of their hair - wild tufts that looked as soft as dandelion fluff - which happened to be the same shade as their respective capes. Your eyes flicker up to Ewan, but he appears as shock as you are. Perhaps the two imps had perfected sugar glider stink to the point even a werewolf couldn’t tell the difference.

“When were you going to tell me this,” you hiss, returning your attention to the two imps. Another question rammed into your head as you leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “When was Tabaeus going to tell me!?” 

Carelessly, Bjarka and Liuva shrug in response. Neither seem particularly wary as you loom over them.

Taking advantage of your outraged quiet, Ewan steps in, “What's your story, you two?” 

The two imps half-turn toward Ewan, before exchanging glances with one another. A silent conversation seems to transmit between the two, before both give a relenting shrug. Liuva speaks first, their eyes flicking from you to Ewan as they speak, “We just wanted to be pampered.” 

“We saw how humans cared for pets and took the form of something cute and fluffy.” When Bjarka speaks, you realize they were the one who spoke first. Their tone is deeper than Liuva’s own. Bjarka sighs dreamily, hands clasped together and pressed to the side of their face like some sort of 1950s schoolgirl lost in a pleasant daydream.

“Tabaeus knew what we were right away,” Liuva takes up the line, admiration coloring their voice and pitching higher. “But they were kind.” 

“They didn’t treat us like problems,” Bjarka adds, their nose wrinkling as their tone sours.

That bitter tone is mirrored in Liuva’s voice as she adds, “Like annoyances.” 

Turning to you, Bjarka’s expression turns dire and genuine. “But Tabaeus did want us to behave.”

“So we did.” Liuva solemnly nods, though you could swear you see their hand move behind their back. It’s a movement that reminds you of a child crossing their fingers behind their back.

The story seems rather scant, you think. Why would they choose to willingly be people’s pets? What about the man who ‘sold’ them to Tabaeus? You bite your tongue on the very questions. Those curiosities could wait. There is one question gnawing at your head, wanting answers more. “Why didn’t they tell me about you two?” 

Once again, Bjarka and Liuva exchange looks. Concern crimps both their faces, but it is Bjarka who turns to you. “They were looking for the right time, but it never came around.”

“They were worried about freaking you out,” Liuva mumbles, giving you yet another shrug. 

Swallowing heavily, you ask, "Did you see them leave?”

"Yes, they were with another vampire. Slimy and sleazy.” Raising their little hands, Liuva wiggles their tiny fingers and makes a face.

Ewan and you nearly speak as one as you both knowingly say, "Lachlan.”

Both imps shrug and make a sound as if to say ‘if you say so.’ Both sets of dark little eyes flicker between you and Ewan, quiet now that they had brought you up to speed of their own circumstances.

Your brain is still trying to process yet another turn when Ewan gets the conversation back on track, “Alright, so how do we find Tabaeus?” 

Bjarka, the imp with the darker furred cape, turns those ink-deep eyes on Ewan. Something in their expression glimmers with vague amusement and practicality. “You already know a witch.” 

“Jemma?” Ewan perks up and you can almost see a pair of canine-like ears standing tall.

Your head snaps to the werewolf, your eyebrows raised. “Jemma’s a witch-witch?” 

Awkwardness causes Ewan’s shoulders to pinch, a wince of a smile tugging across his lips as he nods an affirmative to your question. 

You knew your co-worker was into the esoteric stuff and some spirituality. Tarot and gems, woo-woo paranormal stuff, and the like. But those were just trends flooding the mainstream now. It didn’t seem like that much of a stretch to just believe she was simply a human dreaming of something more to life. 

Then again, you were currently in your kitchen, discussing how to find a vampire with not just a werewolf, but two imps. Could you really be surprised?

“When did my life become a paranormal drama?” You groan and press your face to the table, arms outstretched around the two imps. If it bothers them, they don’t seem to notice. One of them - Bjarka you guess, judging by the position - pats your forearm consolingly.

You hear the apologetic smile that crosses Ewan’s lips as he teases, “I think that’s just what happens when you befriend a vampire.”

---

Soon enough, you find yourself at Jemma’s studio with your supernatural entourage. Jemma’s apartment is what you expected it to be, with all her witchy implementations in plain sight. Perhaps that was why the occult had gotten a boost in recent years. Magic users and the supernatural were tired of hiding.

Jemma’s home is cluttered, but comfortable. Being a one-room studio, there were no walls to delineate the kitchen from the living room, though Jemma had hung up curtains to separate her ‘bedroom’ from the rest of the space. Plants overran the kitchen, with leafy fronds hanging from the ceiling and pots clustered around the sink. A long table, covered in bottles and candles and even a small cauldron, separated the kitchen from the living room. Books and trinkets scattered about on any available surface. 

“I might be able to track them through scrying,” Jemma sighs once you have brought her up to speed. Her lips purse and her eyes narrow as she admits to her potential inability, “but if they’re part of an old coven, they may be protected.” 

By your side, on the frayed couch in Jemma’s living room, Ewan growls a quiet curse. You stare at the coffee table in front of you, eyebrows furrowed. A fabric drapes over the squat table and, upon the cloth, a candle and box of closed tarot cards sits. You still feel adrift, unable to think of anything effective in the situation. Perhaps it’s Tabaeus’s lingering thrall keeping you unfocused.

Against your chest, you feel Bjarka and Liuva shift in an inside pocket on your jacket. You’re not sure if it’s an imp thing, to sleep as often as they do, or simply a luxury of their life as pseudo pets. The thought invariably leads back to Tabaeus, how they had cared for the imps and how the imps had spoken so darkly of their usual treatment. 

Before you know it, you hunch over, your face falling into your hands. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, the pressure relieving the pulse of frustration in your thoughts. Ewan’s warm, heavy hand sympathetically presses to your shoulder a beat later. There’s a long moment of silence as you breathe, before you drop your hands and glance to the man beside you.

He offers you an encouraging, if weak, smile. You return a smile just as flimsy as his. It’s Jemma’s rough voice that breaks your gaze from Ewan’s eyes, “Did either of you let them feed from you?”

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to fight down the embarrassed flush as you meet Jemma’s critical gaze.

“I did too.” Ewan raises his free hand, flinching under the look you and Jemma shoot him. His expression takes on a bashful edge, his gaze bouncing between the two of you though not meeting either look head-on. “It happened in the van after you fell asleep and we were, uh, getting to know each other still. They needed a boost.”

Unable to help yourself, you snort in amusement. Especially as you catch the increasing blush beneath Ewan’s stubble.

“Well, I think that's your answer.” Jemma leans back in her wooden chair, arms crossing over her chet. “If vampires feeding on Tabaeus, or vice versa, could remain connected, then you should have a connection too.”

Your attention flicks back to your co-worker, a furrow pinching between your brows. “How do we tap into that?” 

“That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Jemma’s narrowed eyes rove over her work table as her fingers tap against her biceps. Just as you start to think this will need more research, Jemma stands and heads into the kitchen, riffling around in a drawer. She returns with a fresh pack of sewing needles and two little glass vials that remind you of bead containers from a craft store. 

Jemma shoves the vials and needles toward you. “Prick your fingers and give me a drop, both of you.”

You and Ewan comply, carefully drawing and collecting the blood. Once the vials are handed over to Jemma, she turns away. In the short amount of time, she has her little cauldron filled with purple liquid and bubbling over a hot plate. The room fills with an indescribable scent as liquid boils in the small bowl and the witch references a number of books. She hums to herself as she throws more bits into the occult stew, making the liquid glow a gentle blue.

As Jemma toils, insecure thoughts creep into your brain. Should you even be doing this? Tabaeus chose to leave and wanted you safe. Hell, he might even be the reason why your brain is so fuzzy every time you try to think about saving him. By going against his wishes, could you really bring him home? Or would he stay where he was out of a sense of duty? Dread swells up in your stomach, pinching at your expression.

You feel Ewan’s arm snake around your shoulders, tugging you into his side and startling you from your thoughts. “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” 

“Maybe that’s what I’m worried about,” you admit, casting a glance up to Ewan’s face. Confusion paints his expression and so you go on,  “Lachlan seemed powerful and who knows how many vampires are under his leadership? Even Tabaeus felt powerless against Lachlan.” 

Ewan is silent for a long moment, his eyebrows dipped into a ‘v’. You don’t expect he’ll have anything further to say, but he surprises you by slowly feeling his words out, “I think that’s just what Lachlan wants Tabaeus to believe.” 

“What?” Straightening a little from your slump, you gaze intently up at Ewan, trying to determine if he’s just trying to make you feel better or if he’s being genuine.

“Lachlan smells like a power-hungry creep and what better way to maintain power than to keep a threat under control?” Ewan’s gaze is no longer on you. He’s staring off into some middle distance, his thoughts churning in directions you can’t possibly imagine. Briefly, you wonder if this had something to do with his old pack. “Tabaeus is old and, from what I know, the older a vampire is, the stronger they are.”

You press your lips together, acknowledging Ewan’s point, but still worried. “Even if they were created as a Memory Keeper?”

“That I don’t know, but no one else seems to know either.” Ewan shrugs, offering you another of his helpless but hopeful smiles. For the first time since Tabaeus left, the expression makes something stir in your chest. Maybe a little of that hope is rubbing off on you.

Settling back, you consider what Ewan has said. No one else seems to know a blasted thing, that is true. Maybe there is hope to find Tabaeus, to bring him home, to rid all of you of Lachlan. The problem simply is figuring out how.

[nocturnest]

Simple

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”  ~ Oscar Wilde

It was supposed to be a quick job, this, thought Tangerine. 

It was a snatch-and-grab job at a sketchy warehouse involving the retrieval of a hard drive. His and Lemon’s handler, Holmes, had assured them that the job was simple and likely didn’t involve any major run-ins. And so everything seemed to be going according to plan as Lemon and Tangerine made their way through the warehouse, shooting the occasional guard here and there, and then he saw you. 

He and Lemon had first met you four years ago. You three had been paired up by chance on a job in Paris: you and Tangerine had posed as a married couple and Lemon his brother and the three of you attended a gala with the intent of delivering a long overdue message to a power-hungry drug lord. Tangerine had to admit that he was rather distracted throughout the mission. He found himself developing a sense of possessiveness as men at the gala eyed you eagerly. He liked the way one of his golden rings looked on your finger, the way your dress exposed your lovely collarbones, the way your subtle lipstick made your eyes pop. Tangerine had never noticed it before, the way your eyes seemed to shine as you talked passionately. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and shake his head as you entertained Lemon in one of his character analysis rants about Thomas the Tank Engine. 

But now… well, you certainly seen better days but still managed to look stunning nonetheless. You had a cut along your cheek and a bruised lip, whether from fighting or interrogation Tangerine wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that seeing you tied up and injured made him into a bundle of raging anger yet concern.

He and Lemon looked at one another before Tangerine cleared his throat, “Hello, love.” 

You knew that voice. You loved that voice. It gave you a thrill and made you tighten your thighs with heat. You leaned forward as well as you could and squinted into the darkness of the room, “Tangerine?”

Tangerine stepped forward into your field of view and gave a lopsided smile, “The one and only.”

There was a pause and then you fucking giggled, all while practically gazing into the piercing blue depths of Tangerine’s eyes. 

Tangerine was confused. You were a contract killer. He’d certainly heard your laugh before, which to him sounded like tinkling bells, but he’d never heard you giggle. It was novel to him, but he didn’t mind it; in fact, he wished he could make that same sound among others come from you.

“The hell you laughing for?” asked Lemon bluntly as he too stepped into your periphery.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed theatrically while giving Tangerine a sly wink.

Tangerine opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He shook his head as if waking up from a dream. 

Get your priorities straight, bruv, he thought.

Tangerine reached toward you and began cutting the ropes around you with his handy knife. You visibly shuddered as his hands grazed your wrists. 

Tangerine noticed you shiver and muttered “Sorry, love. You hurt anywhere?"

"Just a small stab wound. And maybe a concussion" You lift your bleeding leg half-heartedly. 

Lemon paces, assessing the situation. "What are you doing here?"

You couldn't help but suggest that your handler assign you the codename Peach to complete the fruit triad.

“You know - the usual mission and whatnot. Kicking names and taking ass one interrogation at a time.”

Lemon frowned, "Not sure that's how the saying goes..."

"And I had the whole thing under control, truly - until some fucking geezer went and hit me over the head with a damn crowbar."

The ropes around you came undone and you move to stand but your legs just aren’t fucking working today. Tangerine caught you before you tumbled and you found your face pressed up against his chest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as Tangerine gripped your forearms to keep you steady. You inhale deeply and whisper loudly, “Mmm, you smell like a forest.” 

Tangerine blinked back in surprise at your bluntness and you eyed him cautiously as you take his hand and squeeze it. 

Lemon, always one to stick to his priorities, coughed, "Um - we'd uh better get out of here like right to the fuck now before some more of these fuckers emerge for round two...."

“I’m never opposed to a 'round two',” You nodded, looking pointedly at Tangerine and wiggling your eyebrows. 

Lemon gives Tangerine a look that translates roughly to “What the fuck?” And Tangerine can’t help but laugh nervously, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. Something about you seemed off. You seemed way more open than usual, too open at that. Your eyes had a glazed look to them and your pupils were heavily dilated as you gazed at Tangerine.

“Yo, did they give you something, Peach? Some kind of drug?"

You pause and rub your forearm subconsciously, "Hmm... They may have injected me with something while I was out, now that I think about it...."

"So that's what’s got you all googly-eyed.”

“Nice detective work. You learned that from Thomas then, did ya, Lemon,” Tangerine asks dryly. 

“Nah, from Kill Bill. Movie talks some shit about some truth serum called the The Undisputed Truth.”

You bit your lip and reflected proudly, “Well they didn't get much out of me! They kept asking questions about you two but didn’t quite appreciate my extensive insight on the likely size of Tangerine's d-"

"Okaaaay - I think that's enough now, Peach!" Lemon interrupted.

Tangerine just raised an eyebrow and gave you an amused, boyish grin. He seemed like he was enjoying this a bit too much.

"Alright, here's how it's gonna go: I'm going to grab the hard drive and you guys head back to the car. We'll meet back there."

"Oh, I won't be a bother, Lemon. I won't mention anything about Tangerine's appendages. Eyes? I can talk about eyes instead! Tangerine's eyes are the color of wild waves at sea and they compliment his suits quite nicely. You know what else his suits compliment? His a-"

"I think you're just proving the point, love,"' said Tangerine.

"Oh, alright," you relented, perhaps for the sake of Lemon's sanity. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else, and you can hardly blame him.

Lemon hesitated before heading down the hall of the warehouse, his gun at the ready in case he comes across any lingering guards.

Meanwhile, Tangerine took in the sight of you. Your cheeks were flushed on the account of speaking so quickly and your growing embarrassment due to those unfiltered thoughts of yours. He had never seen you look quite so angelic.

Tangerine noticed you were still holding his hand and found it was not an unwelcoming feeling.

"Come on, then," he murmured.

The two of you made your way through the twists and turns of the furniture warehouse. Tangerine led you through the bodies of guards he and Lemon took down with ease. It's quiet between the two of you, and you seemed quite lost in your thoughts.

As you two neared the car outside of the warehouse, Tangerine glanced down at you, noticing the contented hum escaping your lips. Despite the chaos that had just unfolded, there was a sense of tranquility in your demeanor that he finds oddly captivating.

"You seem awfully cheerful considering the circumstances," Tangerine remarked with a smirk, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

You glanced up at him, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "Well, what can I say? Being rescued by a devilishly handsome man such as yourself certainly brightened my day."

"You're too kind, Peach," Tangerine said, waving his hand dismissively.

You leaned against the car door and sighed, "But I'm serious, Tan. Sometimes, I wonder if you don't realize how truly beautiful you are. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Tangerine stills, head titling with curiosity, "You think I'm..." He swallows, "beautiful?"

You blush with slight embarrassment but continue nonetheless, "Well - yeah. I mean every time I look at you I feel like I'm looking at some kind of entrancing angel. You're so fucking captivating with those eyes of yours. And there's so many wonderful things about you. Like how you swear like an absolute sailor and yet some of the most delightful things I've ever heard have come out of your mouth. And your accent - my god! The things I've imagined you doing to me with that voice of yours..."

Something unrecognizable to you stirs up across Tangerine's face as he listens to you vehemently. He grips your arm, the graze of his fingertips causing you to shiver.

"You-You're so kind. And people don't see that. Only Lemon does. And me.... I can only imagine how lonely you must be. It's hard in this line of work, to make connections, to have true friends. But it doesn't matter... You make me feel safe - you feel like home. And at some point I think I realized that I-"

Your eyes water slightly, "I- oh, I didn't want you to find out this way."

You avoid his eyes, but he brings his hand to your face, delicately - as if you're made of glass. Tangerine pushes a strand of hair from your face.

Tangerine's touch is gentle, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek as he lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his own. "Peach... tell me."

His voice is soft, filled with a tenderness that melts away any remaining doubts or fears. In that moment, you feel as though you're the only two people in the world, cocooned in a bubble of intimacy and understanding.

"I-I love you," you whisper, your voice cracking as you try to cover your eyes.

His eyes widen and he stops your movement. Tangerine puts his hand around your neck. He looks at you as if you're the only person in the world.

"May I kiss you?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you nod, unable to trust your voice to respond. The intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you wait for his next move.

With a tender smile, Tangerine leans in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wish. But you find yourself leaning in too, drawn to him like a magnet, unable to resist the pull of his presence.

And then, his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels like coming home. It's gentle yet passionate, filled with all the unspoken emotions that have been building between you.

In that moment, everything else fades away – the danger, the uncertainty, the chaos of your world – leaving only the two of you, lost in each other's embrace.

As you deepen the kiss, the weight of your confession lifts off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and fulfillment that you've never known before.

And as you pull away, breathless and flushed, you meet Tangerine's gaze, finding nothing but love and acceptance reflected in his eyes.

"I love you too, Peach," he whispers, his voice low and hoarse. "More than you'll ever know."

You pull him by his tie with a smile. Your lips meet again and you murmur, "It's always been you. Only you."

He chases your lips ravenously, his tongue begging entry into your mouth.

As Tangerine's tongue explores the depths of your mouth, you find yourself surrendering completely to the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every caress, every kiss, ignites a fire within you, consuming you in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Your hands roam over his body, tracing the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you find yourself craving more of him – more of his touch, more of his love, more of everything that makes him who he is. And as Tangerine responds eagerly to your advances, you realize that he feels the same way too.

You hear the sound of approaching footsteps but are too dazed to notice.

"Oi! Not on my fucking car!" Lemon yells from afar.

Tangerine looks up briefly and growls, "Fuck your bloody car! I'll get you another one."

Caught in the heat of the moment, you and Tangerine are momentarily oblivious to the world around you. But as Lemon's voice pierces through the haze of passion, you both startle, pulling away from each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Tangerine's growl of defiance only serves to add to the tension in the air, his protective instincts kicking in even in the midst of desire.

Lemon approaches, his expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "I swear, you two are a bloody nightmare. Couldn't you find somewhere more private to get frisky?"

You straighten your clothes, feeling a flush of embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position. "Sorry, Lemon. We got carried away."

Tangerine shoots Lemon a defiant glare, his tone unapologetic. "Like I said, I'll get you another car. But right now, we've got more important things to worry about."

Lemon rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep it in your pants until we're back at the safe house, alright? We've still got a job to finish."

With a nod of agreement, you and Tangerine exchange a knowing glance, a silent promise passing between you. And as you climb into the car with Tangerine by our side, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for the adventures that await.

~

Thank you to these wonderful writers who inspired me to start writing fics - check these guys out for more Bullet Train fics!

@tangerinesgf @sebsbarnes @little-miss-dilf-lover @feralforfruit

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Worthy: Gortash/Bane/Tav

Felt like writing unhinged altar sex between Gortash and Tav, and Bane and Tav, and Gortash and Bane and Tav. Explicit (in case you're new here), and I'll screenshot the tags and throw Chapter 1 under the cut.

Or read on AO3 Next Chapter

“You’ve come”, Gortash smirked, that arrogant face as punchable as ever. 

“I have”, Tav replied, sighing. Things weren’t looking great for her. Orin had slaughtered her way through her companions, and when she’d finally defeated the Chosen of Bhaal, half her team had been on the brink of collapse. The fight in the House of Hope had weakened her even more, and she quickly realized that she needed help against the Netherbrain. More help than she had available. 

Reluctantly, she’d gone to Gortash, trying to accept the deal she had so recklessly turned down before. He’d laughed in her face, then offered her another chance: She’d have to submit herself to Bane, submit herself to him, and they’d be allies. A show of trust, he had called it. A bunch of bullshit, she had called it. 

Her only chance, her friends had called it, none of them really knowing the details. And neither did Tav – but her bargaining position was so weak that she couldn’t really care.  

So here she was, at the suggested time and place. 

Gortash looked her up and down, then gestured towards a staircase leading down into the dark. 

“Follow me”, he said, walking ahead, and she barely kept up as his taller legs carried him down into a tunnel. There was only dim light, and they walked for what felt like minutes until they reached a stone wall, unassuming and plain. 

Gortash spoke words against the wall and the stone brimmed with magic in response. As it rolled down, Tav briefly wondered what she had gotten herself into. 

“What’s going to happen?”, she asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling uneasy about it all. 

“You will worship at the altar of Bane, commit yourself to his presence and his Chosen, with body and soul. After this, we shall swear to do no harm to one another. And we will defeat the Netherbrain. Together.” Gortash looked at her through his dark lashes, gaze eerily focused on her. It was unsettling.

Still, some prayers at an altar didn’t sound too bad. That, she could do. 

Seeing her stiff expression, the Archduke chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find the experience… enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable? Sure.” Tav rolled her eyes. There were people, like Shadowheart or Gale, who found ecstasy in religious devotion. Not her though. But it didn’t matter: whatever got Gortash to agree to this alliance would have to do. 

He didn’t comment on her snark and instead led her inside into a hall of worship; a large, dark altar in the middle of the room. Several Banite disciples stood around the altar, wearing dark robes and masks, looking positively menacing in the dark. 

“Faithful!” Gortash addressed the Banites, waltzing into their circle to demand attention. “We have gathered here to witness a new oath, a new promise, to be made upon body and soul.”

Low murmurs of approval echoed through the room. 

“Now”, he gestured towards Tav, indicating to her to step closer. “First, you will demonstrate your loyalty to me. Then, you will prove your persistence to Bane. And last, we will bless this new triad of power in his name.”

“Let’s just get it over with”, she sighed, looking around the circle of faces who all seemed to eye her with hunger. 

Gortash nodded to his Banites, and they started chanting, low and inaudible, a magical tension spreading through the air. 

“Undress.” 

Her fingers moved on their own accord, and Tav’s eyes widened in disbelief as she took off her clothes in front of everyone. 

“What’s happening?”, she gasped, trying to fight the command spell, but it was overwhelming, too much, with dozens of Banites murmuring the words all she could do was hover in paralysis while she resisted. 

“Don’t fight it”, Gortash whispered, stepping closer to her. “Submit, and this will be easy.”

She didn’t want to submit. She didn’t even want to be here. She also felt that she could fight the spell, at least for a little while, fight Gortash even, at least to escape. But she was tired of fighting. Tired of resisting. He hadn’t lied to her so far – if he said it would be easy, why not trust his words?

Giving into the command, she let her resistance melt away, her hands taking off her clothes until she stood naked in the candlelight. 

Gortash held his arm out to the side silently, and one of his disciples rushed over to take off his gauntlets, then handed him a strip of leather. 

A collar. 

“Turn around, dear”, he instructed her, and she complied, though if by spell or of her own volition, she couldn’t tell. The leather was smooth against her skin as he tightened it around her neck, then hooked a long metal chain into it that was fixed to the altar. 

Looking her up and down, he nodded, face unreadable, but offered a small smile before reaching behind her to loosen her hair pins. When her curls fell down to her shoulders, he sighed. 

“Good. Now.”

He yanked her forward towards the altar, even though she would have followed him anyway, sending her into a stumble. 

“You’ve offended the Chosen of Bane, and thus Bane himself, by continuously acting against our interests”, Gortash scolded her, voice sharp and venomous. “For this, you must repent.”

Tav looked around: Everyone else was watching them intently, silently, alert; the way her body was exposed for every stranger to stare at lit a fire in her core. 

“Repent?” She caught the word and repeated it in her mouth, unsure what he meant. 

Chuckling, he jerked at the chain again, making her gasp as the collar forced her towards him by her throat. 

“Bend”, he demanded, pointing towards the black marble altar and stepping behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her back. She could hear him breathe, evenly and calmly. 

Tav swallowed. Should she–

But–

Her head yanked backwards as his fist tightened in her hair, pulling at her so hard and abruptly that she yelped. Throat exposed, her head fell back against him, and he brought his other hand to the chain, tugging the collar in the opposite direction. It hurt. 

“Bend”, he instructed again, stricter this time, and she tore away from him with ease. He released his grip on her the second she decided to obey. Leaning over the altar, she bent down to lay her torso onto the cold surface, ass hanging over the edge. 

“Faithful”, Gortash called out to the other worshippers, “witness, as she repents.”

Pain shot through her as several thin leather strips connected with her ass. Wincing, she tried to lift herself off the altar, but someone had already fastened the chain, giving her barely any wiggle room to move. Before she could think more on what to do, the flog hit her again, sending another bolt of pain to her backside. 

“What the fuck”, she coughed out, her throat straining against the collar, and she let out a sob as Gortash hit her again. 

“Do you submit to the Chosen of Bane on his altar?”, he asked, voice firm and unrelenting. 

“I– what?”

Having chosen the wrong answer, Tav was met with another three hits of the flog, and her ass cheeks burned, unused to the pain. 

From behind her, she heard shuffling, then steps, and she flinched when Gortash let the flog slide over her skin, the leather much softer, much more forgiving. Starting at her neck, he dragged it all the way down to her ass; and repeating the slow movements, he then started at the backside of her knees, teasing the flog all the way up her left, then right thigh as she laid there. It felt intimate, and promised more to come, and she hated the way she immediately craved his touch as soon as he showed her a fraction of tenderness. 

Tav felt him press the flog between her legs, and the commanding “Open”, was low and dangerous. Breathing in a panicked rhythm, she spread her legs open wide, hoping it was what he wanted. 

“Let us try that again”, Gortash said quietly, and she could hear the danger in his voice. “Do you submit to the Chosen of Bane on his altar?”

“Yes”, she whispered immediately without thinking, “Yes, I submit.”

“Good”, he murmured. 

When he brought the flog down against her cunt, Tav cried out in surprise and pain. It was not as hard as he’d hit her before, but still hard enough to be painful. Shame colored her face pink as she realized that there was something else hidden underneath the hurt: Pleasure. 

The flog connected with her exposed folds again, and again; and this time when she sobbed it almost sounded like a moan. 

“Do you repent for your sins against the Chosen of Bane?” Gortash’s voice boomed through the hall, and she swallowed, her pride making itself known in the back of her throat. 

“Y-yes”, she whimpered, frustrated by the way she’d ended up here so carelessly, anxious about what would happen next. 

While he had paused the flogging to exchange words with her, every part of her that he had hit began to throb: sweet, delicious pain, burning her up from inside. Worse: it all pooled together into a mix of brutal longing, her clit pulsating along with the ravished skin to the nervous beat of her heart. 

He shoved himself into her without warning, one long smooth motion, eased by her slick. She hadn’t noticed how wet she’d gotten, but it didn’t surprise her, merely annoyed her, and his girth stretched her nevertheless. When he bottomed out inside of her, she gasped, shocked by his length and the way his tip hit a particularly sensitive spot. Behind her, Gortash sighed before pulling out again. 

“You’ve chosen to repent”, he declared, and his voice was thick with lust, despite his best efforts to hide it with clarity and volume. “And so you shall.”

There was no warning for the pace he set, no moment for Tav to acclimate herself to him. Instead, he fucked her violently, full of spite, his knees pushing her legs even further apart. Holding tightly onto her hips, he pulled her body down to his cock in a demanding fashion, and Tav’s body felt helpless as it moved along to his thrusts. She tried holding onto the altar, hands clinging to the hard, cold edge, and her breasts started to hurt, sliding across the marble again and again and again. 

And then, she noticed it. 

Bliss. 

Being so purely at his mercy, fully submitting to him, being fucked like toy – it turned her on. More. It made her moan, quietly at first, but more and more loudly as pressure started to build inside of her, luring her to the edge of an abyss she was all too eager to fall into. 

Gortash grunted and groaned as he shoved his cock into her cunt without relent. He sounded hot, Tav thought in passing, too far gone already to process the weight of the thought. 

“Are you ready to repent?”, he asked, and Tav moaned her agreement with so much lust that she couldn’t even care to be ashamed. 

Yes, she wanted it. She wanted to come around him, with him inside of her, she needed it, wanted it–

Without warning, Gortash pulled out. Moaning obscenely as he stroked himself to completion, he came on her ass, his cum dripping warmly down her cheeks. And then… he stepped away.

“Repent”, he repeated hoarsely. 

Tav sobbed, realizing what he meant: She wouldn’t be allowed to come. 

Wiggling against the spell that still held her body in place, she tried to rub her clit against the altar, trying to find any friction, anything that could get her off. Immediately the attempt was met by a hit of the flog against her cunt, and she cried out in desperation, the pain neither enough to bring her down, nor to tip her over the edge. 

“Please”, she sobbed, almost delirious with need. “Please.”

Gortash took deep, steady breaths behind her, watching her pant with lust. “Don’t make me repeat myself”, he warned, unfazed by the tears that were streaming down Tav’s face. 

When her breathing slowed just slightly enough, he brought the flog back against her folds, thus pulling her back towards the edge. She wasn’t allowed to escape it, it seemed, in either direction, and he took his time with her as he repeated the flogging for minutes while she begged for release. 

She was a whimpering mess when he stopped. Someone loosened the chain that bound her to the altar, and Gortash’s fist in her hair pulled her back  onto shaky legs. 

Falling to her knees, Tav’s entire body still trembled violently with need. She wanted to touch herself, wanted to rub herself, but she couldn’t – only when her senses slowly sharpened to the present again did she notice that the Banites were still chanting, still influencing what she could and couldn’t do. Their words bound her to their will, more tightly and more unrelentingly than any rope ever could. 

“You’ve repented for the Chosen of Bane.” Gortash’s praise was soothing in her ears. “Now prepare to meet the Black Lord himself. Prepare for Bane.”

[outro-jo]

baby makes three

pairing: nakamoto yuta x mark lee x reader (gn)

type: imagine

summary: your boyfriends are great at reassurance

warnings: slight angst, suuuuperr affectionate bf yuta, established polyamorous closed triad relationship, idol au, lots of petname usage, slight spice at the end but nothing in detail, fluffy boys 🥰

a/n: self-indulgence alert 🙃

masterlist | info

———————————

mark entered the apartment in his usual fashion. the door opened and shut then he let out his usual sing-songy “yuta~” call. you normally found it adorable but something about it today added to your bruised feelings. as you tossed vegetables around in the pan, you ruminated on your brain’s bullying thoughts that you were the extra in the relationship. 

over a year ago, yuta had discussed the idea of the three of you no longer just being friends. no longer denying your feelings between the three of you and finally be in a relationship together. the little voice in the back of your head kept nagging at you because you hadn’t known either of the boys as long as they had known each other. their chemistry was undeniable, even their fans could see that, and they obviously loved you… or they said they did. the little dark voice in the corner of you mind kept telling you that you were just a tool to get them together. they didn’t love you as much as they loved each other. 

some days that voice was just a whisper but on days like today it was loud and repetitive, it demanded to be heard. it stole every bit of your attention. even now with dinner starting to burn on the stove and mark trying to bring you back to reality.

“hey, baby, where are you right now?” he asked softly. his arms were around your waist and he was kissing the shell of your ear.

“sorry.” you finally snapped out of it feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you quickly turned off the eye to the stove.

yuta wandered over from his seat on the sofa. he had left you alone to cook but he was starting to realize that you probably needed him more than you let on. the memories of the evening started to replay in his mind. when he got home you were pleasant enough but on analyzing your actions and tone of voice, you did seem a bit distant. he wrote it off before as you possibly bring tired or having a long day but something told him it might be a bit more than that.

“darling, are you ok?” he asked gently.

“i’m fine!” you attempted to lighten your tone but both boys knew you too well and weren’t buying it. 

mark took your busy hands in one of his, the other setting the knife down carefully to gain your full attention. yuta now coming over to you with a hand at your lower back. both pairs of eyes were soft with eyebrows knitting together in concern for you.

“baby, please talk to us. where’s your head at?” mark pleaded for you to open up.

ironically when the three of you began your relationship, it was you that stressed the importance of communication if this relationship was going to work. in the first week you all talked through potential concerns like jealousy and how you wanted to handle dating and ~bedroom activities~ but now a new topic of concern had emerged. truthfully, you felt a bit stupid for feeling this way so you kept these thoughts to yourself. it was selfish and you knew that, but you just couldn’t bear to open up the way you knew you needed to.

“no! i’m fine a promise!” you did your best to give them a genuine smile with your lie. “i’m just tired.”

yuta leaned in, resting his head on your shoulders as his arms snaked around your waist. he couldn’t help but be affectionate. it’s who he is. 

mark was still persisting. “no, that’s not it. when you’re tired you’re all over us. did something happen at work? is it your family? baby, whatever it is we wanna be there for you. will you let us?” 

your heart clenched. mark always had a way of breaking down your walls. it was sure but still gentle, always reassuring you that he and your other boyfriend were a safe place. they would love you no matter what and hold you up when needed.

“it’s stupid.” you whispered as the tears formed in your eyes.

“never.” yuta said and kissed the tears that fell down your cheeks. 

mark raised a hand to wipe your other cheek with his thumb. “he’s right, angel, you aren’t stupid and your concerns are valid. let us in, baby. c’mon.”

with your hand still in his other one, mark led you over to with couch, yuta in tow. once the three of you were settled, one boy on each side of you, you let out a deep breath and prepared to let out the thoughts you’d been holding in for so long.

“sometimes i feel…” you paused.

yuta rubbed your knee to reassure you to go on.

“i feel like i’m kind of a third wheel. like you two would be happier if it were just the two of you. like i’m what brought you together but i’m not meant to be a third.” you finally said it. your head and shoulders dropped almost in shame. 

mark and yuta shared a pained look before yuta took your face to make you look at him.

“that’s not true. nothing could be further from the truth, my love.” he said firmly before kissing your cheek repeatedly. 

“hyung’s right, babe. do you know how much i thought about you today? i couldn’t stop. i feel an ache in my chest when i leave you both and it’s like when i come home, i feel like i can breathe again.” he brought your hand up to his chest to emphasize his point.

“mm, i told taeyong i was sick at practice just so i could leave early and see you!” yuta suddenly said.

“you’re welcome for covering for you, by the way.” mark deadpanned, earning himself a quick thank you kiss on the lips from the eldest. 

“i know, but i haven’t known both of you as long as you two have known each other.” you pleaded your case.

mark shook his head, “babe, that doesn’t matter!”

“yeah! it just means i had to work harder to get mark to love me. you’re so incredible, mark was simping from the moment he met you.” yuta teased.

“i’m regretting teaching you ‘simp’,” mark half joked. “but he’s not wrong. i fell for you so fast.”

“me, too.” yuta agreed.

“i’m sorry, loves. i told you this was stupid.” you cringed at yourself.

yuta shook his head at you before leaning in to kiss all over your face making you giggle. mark hadn’t let go of your hand from the time you started speaking. 

“dude, stop saying that! it’s not stupid. i was reading these kinds of feelings are normal in relationships like ours.” mark tried to put your mind at ease.

“mark lee reading polyamory books?” you teased him amidst yuta’s affections.

“hey, i read!” he shot back. 

“who knew.” yuta mumbled in between kisses.

“yo, that’s not fair! also it’s my turn.” he took your face and began copying yuta.

both of them now attacking your face with kisses. you let them for a few seconds, giggling at their antics until you got a little overwhelmed.

“ok! ok! i get it!” you laughed. 

mark pulled back first while yuta got in a few more before sitting back. two of his fingers tucked under your chin to turn your head his direction.

“you’re so important to us, y/n. there is no us without you.” yuta told you intently. an almost fiery look in his eyes wanting to make sure you felt every word you said. 

“we love you so much.” mark confirmed. 

the two boys leaned in to envelope you in a tight hug. you felt so warm and safe in their arms. 

“mark.”

“yeah, love?”

“i think our baby needs some reminders of how much we love them.” 

though you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the smirk in yuta’s voice. 

mark leaned back, his eyes sparking with mischief, “i couldn’t agree with you more, baby.”

the boys took each of your hands in theirs and took their time that night to show you just how much you meant to them.

[rawcalamity]

History of Arctic-113

A cataclysm of death sullied Heavens flame long ago; casting divine bloodshed upon the dawn of Zenith‘s Decay. With her touch forbidden not a single light could pierce the tides of a cruel war, leaving galaxies across existence to be swallowed whole by darkness. Planets withered away unto swaths of frozen stones, harboring only barren fields that hungered for light—as even a stars warmth fell absent to their yearning. Echoed from the fractured and torn surface of every stone is a tale of old, whispering a time when they once blossomed with life. Now remnants of an ecosystem left ravaged by the scorn of divine conflict, they were fated to wither unto a celestial corpse. Within gales of a festering cold, three titans trekked silently as all that survived this terrible calamity. Tears welled in the eyes of ancients who howled with lament; mourning the loss of their dear kin. What once prospered a land home to titans of great stature now lied torn asunder—stripped away from all who cherished it by fates hand with only ageless vessels that remain tethered to a tale that had forsaken them. Driven only by a final resolve to lay their kin to rest, the ancient triad banded together and cleaved tombs from the surface of this frostbitten pathos.

With every fleeing century, the lagging titans grew languorous. One by one, each of the three descended to their knees to further nestle themselves unto the cold sediment. Their bodies erected from the surface like obelisks; protruding far from the frozen ground with a gaze unwavering. Closing their eyes, the triad caved to the frozen wastes and became one with the snow… However, their tale did not end here. It was as if the very sky was lit aflame—billows of ashen grey clouds cracked and burst with light upon the celestial reign of a new dawn. A kindled spark engulfed awakening stars to ignite the horizon of this frozen rock that had been left adrift for eons. Blanketed by its warmth, the rocks barren surface was washed with new hope; instilling vigor to those dormant beneath its crust. Hardened soil unfurled like the monarchs who breach from their cocoons, as colossal beasts erupted from its fissures… The Behemoths Wake ushered the dawn of a new world.

Landscapes quivered as the ground quaked and ice splintered; disturbed by the claws of beasts who sought to break free from their gelid graves. Rising beneath the first dawn, their eyes were met with barren expanses that had remained forlorn for far too long. To reshape the world was to play god—so too was their vision. In a display of divine intuition, the behemoths tore unto the frostbitten ground as mountains breached its fractures whilst trees unfurled from the scars. Snow careened gently from the sky, reflecting brilliant hues that danced throughout a newborn planet. The ancient triad watched as their kin acted with new life to restore a world thought to have been long lost. Overcome by emotion, tears trickled from their sunken eyes and filled the planets wounds with oceans and rivers. A behemoth who honed blades of divinity at its fingertips sought to guide the water and carve a sodden realm of its own; so it cultivated the gelid seas. Each of the three titans observed joyously as their kin nurtured swaths of biomes that would come to harbor life as it once did before.

Whilst a stars heavenly gaze looked after this rejuvenated planet, its zenith did not shine brightly enough to quell its darkness. A beast reared its ugly head from the depths of this world, shadowing the new dawn. An unruly and hateful colossal it was, and without love it wore a wretched heart stained by the scorn of a war that decimated galaxies long before it. To hold the ideals of catastrophe and death was to oppose those who sought prosper, and soon conflict evolved between these sacred guardians and the behemoth with a taste for destruction. It’s fury seared a trail of death in its conquest, ravaging the very fields beneath it. The ancient triad were left with no other choice but to confront this rampaging beast—lest they watch their home be enthralled by calamity once more. Legends paint the tale of a struggle that stretched on for centuries, only coming to a end once the triad forged a powerful blade from within the planets core. With this weapon, they pierced the heart of the behemoth. Defeated, it collapsed unto a sea of crimson snow. It then looked to the ancient triad with pleading eyes, begging for forgiveness; for the behemoth truly did not wish to perish. The ancient triad promised mercy on the terms that it swore its allegiance to them. Rather than harm their cherished home, it must vow to defend it. It is said that the behemoth swore an oath and was allowed to feel the dawn of a new day, however a fragment of the blade that ended its reign of terror was left wedged between its chest to serve as a reminder to its promise.

Primitive societies of arctic-113 revere the behemoths as gods, while others fear their display of divine power like the devil.

[kalolasfantasyworld]

My journey with you

Summary:

Mars and Fana departed on their journey to see the world.

First of the Kalola BC Ships Art series one shots ^^

Ship: Mars x Fana

Type: One shot

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 550

Author's note:

I'm planning to write those short one shots for each one of my arts. They will make up chapters of a one shot collection fic on Ao3.

Ao3

Times became peaceful after the brave knights of Clover defeated the Dark Triad, Devils and Morris who had affiliated himself with the Spade Kingdom. Even though the first two seemed more grave, Mars was the happiest with the last. Morris… He experimented on him, he was the reason why him and Fana were separated for so many years.

He looked to the side and saw his beloved walking, her fingers intertwined with his. He squeezed her gently. They were fine now. Clover and Diamond had signed a treaty, a new King has taken charge and Mars was relieved of his duties as the Shining General. He reunited with Fana. 

Their plan was to travel the world together, so they did. Sometimes it rained, the other times it snowed, but then the sun shone like on that day They were walking through a clearing, hand in hand. Mars watched his beloved. 

“What is it?” Fana smiled looking up at him. “You’ve been staring.”

“You’re beautiful,” Mars answered. “However I don’t need reasons to look at you,” a soft blush spread on his cheeks.

“Thank you,” the corners of her eyes happily wrinkled, before turning away. She suddenly stopped walking and pulled on his hand. “Look!” She exclaimed pointing up at the sky. 

Mars followed her gaze and noticed a small swallow gliding in the air. Fana’s eyes widened as she watched the bird fascinated. She had never seen a bird like this before. She freed herself from his hold and started running after the swallow.

“Come on Mars!” She shouted. “I want to take a closer look!” Fana was already ahead of him. 

Mars laughed and it was a laugh of pure joy. His legs moved on their own as he began to run after the woman that he loved. What started as a chase after a swallow, turned into Mars and Fana playfully racing each other. He was getting ahead, his long strides taking him further, so he slowed down. He was never going to leave her behind. It was just that she did manage to stop.

With a full strength Fana collided with him falling right into his arms. Mars tripped landing on his back, the long grass softened the fall. Fana’s pink hair fell on him, so he parted her bangs to see her face. A soft giggle escaped her. He joined her. His chest vibrated as he laughed. Fana placed a soft kiss on his forehead before getting off. 

She could have stayed… he thought.

Mars spread his arms wide on the grass and looked up. It was really ticklish. Soft sunlight shone on him and only few clouds were visible in the sky. The sky… it was blue, perfectly blue, but he knew an even prettier hue of this color.

As he thought of it he saw it. Fana leaned over him, her fingers cupped his chin from behind, with her other arm she supported herself and she was looking down on him. A tender smile adored her face. Blue eyes, they were gazing at him. Mars grinned.

“I love you, Fana,” he said. “Dreaming about this journey got me through the hard times.”

“I love you too, Mars,” Fana whispered. “This journey, you,” she paused, before softly stroking his cheek. “You were worth the wait.

[akathecentimetre]

I FICCED AGAIN. But this definitely requires some explanation.

Simply put, I am a huge nerd. I'm in a huge phase of a) adoring the music of Handel and b) adoring the skill of countertenor Iestyn Davies, and so a while back I wrote a thing about the sweet triad of Rodelinda (queen), Bertarido (her king/husband, incorrectly thought dead) and Unolfo (Bertarido's still-loyal counsellor). Davies has played both Unolfo - in the 2011 Met production of Rodelinda that informed that first fic - and Bertarido, as I heard him do at Carnegie Hall just last week and in several other productions.

The images above are from him playing Bertarido in an English National Opera (ENO) production from 2014. If anyone out there happens to know if a video of this show exists, I will literally kill for it. And here is a little fangirl take on the sheer awfulness that exists at the heart of this opera, regardless of its happy ending. Massive thanks, as ever, to @agarthanguide for being my best enabler.

Unolfo’s blood is drying on his palm, tacky, heavy as mercury. Bertarido closes his fist, and the tide crashes in. Gundeberto had always been the soldier of the three of them. His brother the king, The Avaricious; the crude hacker of limbs, the bloodletter. Eduige, stern and straight-backed, was more suited to politics, the game of shadows and false appearances. Bertarido had always felt himself the one left over, the reluctant ruler, the Platonic striver after moderation. Gundeberto had died as he lived, gasping and cackling through the blood in his mouth, while Bertarido had been swept away from him on the battlefield and left for lost as the corpses rotted and stank. Passive. Weak. Concerned overmuch with virtue. These epithets have followed him all his life. I shall string their guts along my gates, he thinks, and the words become fire within him as he stares at his trembling hand. Unolfo, his dearest counsellor, his only loyal friend. He had been warm to Bertarido’s touch when the wayward knife slipped between his ribs, his blood quickened, Bertarido now knows, by the excited hope of saving his sovereign. His own name, splattered across Unolfo’s shoulders, has been tainted by the dark fears that had grown around Bertarido in his prison, in the filthy, festering dungeon of his enemies’ making. They have done this. Bertarido whispers it to himself as he stalks through the palace, striding from shadow to shadow, his vision narrowing and swimming at its edges. He has spent months railing against fate, against fortuna, against unshaped forces he has until now believed ruled his destiny as it was sadly cut short. He believes that no longer. Them. Grimoaldo, the tottering, frightened, pathetic usurper. Garibaldo, the true cruelty behind the false king, shorn of principles, delighting in misery. He puts names to previously blank faces. These men, these horrors, are real. It was not Fortuna who put a knife to the throat of Bertarido’s son, who oppressed his cabinet and ignored his people. Who has done God only knows what to his wife. Bertarido nearly stumbles, his breath caught in his throat. The pain rises, choking, and he clutches at a nearby doorframe as he lets out a dry retch, wracked into immobility for a brief moment of his rampage. They must die. The words swim through him so naturally that, were he not so overwhelmed, he would chastise himself. Mercy be damned. Until this moment, sweet, melancholy daydreams of what should have been have always risen to the forefront of his thoughts. Rodelinda, resplendent, smiling gently, maternal, catching his eye in a flash of passion as Flavio, dutiful and strong, nods to him. Unolfo hovering, immaculate as ever, promising and providing stability. His mind reaches, grasps – but it is gone, the peaceful world of his past shattered. Bertarido takes in a sharp breath, and something within him mocks all his hopes; mocks the very idea that it could ever have been thus again, what with everything that has happened in between. His bare, torn feet have somehow known where to take him. He stands back at the threshold of the dungeon, staring at the cooling pool of blood where Unolfo had so recently lain. Someone else has been here since – he can see other footprints on the grimy floor – but he cares not to speculate on who it might have been. Bertarido leans down; hefts the sword that was so recently pressed with glee against his own chest, the absurd weight of it. They will pay for what they have taken from me. His God is a forgiving one, he has been told. He turns away to seek his quarry, and sets out to put his reputation to rest.

[psychiclounge]

I don't see a whole lot of fanmission discussion on here, which is a bummer considering they're such a huge part of the classic Thief community and why it's endured so long. With some of the Black Parade hype recently, I think now is the perfect time for this- here's my personal list of TDP/TMA fanmission recs! Not in any particular order (aside from the first 3-5 or so for each game, which are my personal all-time favorites) these are just taken from my highest rated fanmissions in FMSel. Each one links to a Thief Guild page where you can find the mission briefing, screenshots, and downloads.

Thief Gold: Ascend the Dim Valley Endless Rain Rose Garden The Scarlet Cascabel The Black Parade Catacombs of Knoss Alcazar Chalice of Souls Making a Profit The Sound of a Burrick in a Room Whispers Below the Cobblestone Between These Dark Walls Dirty Money Falling, In Love Autumn in Lampfire Hills

Thief 2: Compulsory Egress Into the Odd Bad Debts, and its sequel Disorientation (part of the Talbot series by Melan, along with TG FM Rose Garden) The Violent End of Duncan Malveine Feast of Pilgrims Ominous Bequest, and its sequel Broken Triad Rose Cottage Behind Closed Doors The Turning of the Leaves King Abedzen's Tomb Legacy of Knoss (sequel to TG FM Catacombs of Knoss) The Ties That Bind (the first FM I recall ever playing and, imo, a cute introduction to FMs as a whole) Old Habits and Dead Wives Vanishing Point All For a Night's Sleep The Last Lighthouse Keeper Cracks in the Glass Bloodmist Tower Finals at the Academy Heist at Hilbert's Highrise Hotel The Sun Within and the Sun Without Malazar's Inscrutable Tower Ravensreach Coaxing the Spirit Keyhunt

Here's a TTLG thread on how to set up both games for playing FMs. I personally don't use any fancy loaders, FMSel will be what you get by default, it works perfect and is all you need. TTLG overall is just a great place to be, it's good for FM hints/walkthroughs/recs and general Thief/Looking Glass discussion.

Ideally you have T2Fix already installed, but for setting your game up for FMs, you should do a quick reinstall and make sure that two options are ticked: common script modules, and T2FMDML. T2FMDML is a collection of fixes for Thief 2 FMs that wouldn't otherwise play nice with NewDark, and the scripts as I understand are for FMs that need them but either come packaged with older versions or without the scripts at all- there's a lot of older FMs out there that will be broken for you if you don't have both installed. You can just rerun the T2Fix installer for this, you don't need to reinstall the game or anything.

Thief Guild is where all the links lead, and it's a great site for finding FMs. You can filter by genre (city, thieves' highway, cathedral, etc.) or look through the usermade collections- for a start, I'd recommend looking at the collections specifically to find classic/early FMs, a category that I know I'm not hitting on much in my list here but is definitely worth checking out if you're at all interested.

Bonus Dark Mod rec: The Dark Mod is a fanmade, free, Thief-inspired stealth game. I haven't played nearly as many missions for it as I have for Thief, but it's still absolutely worth checking out to see if it clicks for you. If you only play one TDM mission, though, my personal rec is Iris.

If you have any, add on with your own FM recs also! Feel free to send asks or dms about anything FM-related, as well ^^ I'm always looking for more to check out, and always open to talk about them if anyone wants.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 8 — Reunited and it Feels So Good

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: Ya'll this part is good but the next one (which is only half finished) is imho the best one yet!!!!

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Azriel falls into your open, waiting arms, body wracking with full-force sobs. You stagger back but luckily Cassian is there to catch you. He wraps his arms around both of you and kicks the door shut with his foot before sliding to the floor.

After gently manhandling you into place, he’s got both of you balanced on his lap. Az buries his head into the crook of Cas’s neck and you rest your forehead in between Az’s shoulder blades, just above the spot where his wings connect to his back. You press him against Cas’s chest and focus on sending love and reassurance through the bond to strengthen it on Azriel’s side.

It’s okay, you murmur through the bond. You’re home, you’re safe.

We’re here, love, Cas adds, sending wave after wave of shimmering gold and red towards Az. His red mixes with Az’s blue and swirls with your purple until the three strands of magic braid together, becoming one again.

Az’s sobs taper off into soft gasps and he clutches Cas.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoarse and quiet. His shadows swirl around the three of you as an extra layer of protection, keeping all of the love and magic contained in a tight ball in order to help heal their master’s mind faster.

“Oh, baby,” you mutter against his skin, wrapping your arms around him from behind to rub your hands in slow, lazy circles around his belly button.

“I shouldn’t have blocked you out. Not that much, I just… I was so scared.” Az’s voice breaks on the last word, the sobs lurking just under the surface threatening to come back out. Words tumble out of his mouth, a waterfall of apologies and regrets. “Things are getting so bad down there—I couldn’t let them get to you. I was…I would’ve stayed there as long as I had to, until I could be sure that you’d be safe.”

“Hey, hey, hey, shhh,” Cas shushes him.

“We didn’t know what would happen, either.” You say.

“You’re not mad at me?” Az asks, bright hazel eyes blinking up at Cas first, then turning to focus on you.

“We’ll never be mad at you for trying to protect us,” you assure him, voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss between Az’s shoulder blades.

“You’re ours,” Cassian growls. His possessiveness hits you like a blow to the head; suddenly, it’s like there’s a feral cat in your chest trying to claw its way to Azriel. You tighten your grip around his waist, pushing yourself flush to his back as Cas slams his lips against Az’s.

It’s instinctual, the way Az surges forward, his fight or flight mode easily activated after his recent mission. You try to channel some calm his way, and eventually it works because he’s able to pull himself out of that dominant headspace, melting against your chest as he gives himself over to Cas.

Cas grunts, reaching one arm around to tap against your ass. Combined with the disjointed images flashing through your mind from Cassian’s side of the bond, you get the hint and scramble off of his lap, tugging Azriel back with you.

Az whimpers at the loss of contact and tugs on the hairs at the nape of Cassian’s neck, beckoning him forward.

I’m yours, he says through the bond, sending all of his pent-up arousal along with it. You feel it course through your veins, curling your toes. Cas slips out from under Az and pushes on his chest until you’ve got a lap full of dark waves.

Using your fingers, you comb through Az’s tangled locks with your fingers, channeling a bit of healing magic out through your touch. He sinks further into your lap and you move to his shoulders, working out the knots surrounding his wings.

Cas coaxes Az’s leathers open, tearing the fabric of his undershirt to reveal the planes of his abs.

“Fuck, baby,” Cas groans, sliding his hips back and lowering his lips to the crook of Az’s neck, using soft bites and soothing sucks to coax a needy whine from deep in the Shadowsinger’s throat. It doesn’t take long for him to move lower, trailing kisses down the lean, muscled planes of Az’s stomach, letting his tongue dip into every groove.

When Cas’s nose brushes against the wiry hairs beneath Az’s belly button, Az’s back arches, subconsciously trying to guide Cas lower. Cas lifts his head to smirk at you as he pops open the buttons of Az’s pants one by one until they’re loose enough to shimmy down, freeing Az’s cock. It springs up, leaking against his stomach.

Kiss-bitten lips wrap around the tip and Az’s hands reach back to clamp around your thighs, fingernails dulled by your soft linen sleep pants.

“Fuck,” he whines as Cas slowly lowers his head until his nose is buried in the thick patch of dark curls at the base of Az’s cock. Az squeezes his eyes shut, head tilting back as Cas lifts his hips off the floor. “‘M not gonna last.”

You trail your hands down his chest, grazing the pads of your fingers over his nipples, and lean down to whisper in his ear.

“It’s okay, babe. Just let us take care of you.”

With your lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck and Cas trying to fully swallow his dick, it doesn’t take long for Az to tense up and then fall back, eyes watering as he shoots his release down Cas’s throat.

There’s no trace of it when Cas lifts his head up and wipes the back of his hand across his satisfied smirk. Seeing Az fully relaxed with his head in your lap makes Cas’s heart clench, sending waves of love down the bond.

“C’mon, love,” he says, tugging on Az’s hands to help him up. Az’s eyes flutter open, staring up at Cas through a pleasure and exhaustion induced haze. You stand up, helping maneuver Az into a standing position, and head to the kitchen to make tea while Cas gets Az settled in the middle of the bed.

Armed with a tray of tea and pastries, you gently push the door open to reveal Az clinging to Cas, curled up on his side and tucked into the space between Cas’s arm and torso. Soft snores fill the room, making you giggle. With a wave of your hand, you send the tray to the bedside table, instructing your magic to keep the tea warm.

You wrap yourself around Az from behind, reaching your arm as far as it can go and making grabby hands at Cas. He chuckles and slides his free hand into yours, squeezing tightly.

“He’s home,” you breath, letting yourself melt into the mattress.

“Yeah,” Cas echoes, fondness shimmering in his eyes as he takes in the sight of his mates tucked safely next to him in bed. “Our boy is home.”

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638@hnyclover @anutellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @queerqueenlynn @brujitafantomatico

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 19 PREVIEW

paranormal fantasy vampire x human triad (vampire x reader x werewolf)

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

🩸 Part 1 🩸 Previous Part 🩸 Masterlist 🩸

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In your quickly fading consciousness, you realize Tabaeus has let go of your hands. Their own grip at your shoulders, long spindly fingers trembling. Turning your face toward the hand on your right, away from Tabaeus’s feasting mouth, you find your sight blurring. 

Before unconsciousness claims you, you press a gentle kiss to the back of their palm. Driven to somehow comfort the vampire, even at such a discordant juncture. Their fingers flex, claws digging into your skin as something akin to another sob bubbles up from their mouth.

That’s the last thing you hear as darkness pulls you under. 

---

The next morning, Tabaeus is gone. 

They must have called to Lachlan in the middle of the night, swept off into the darkness. Faintly, you remember a touch on your cheek, whispered words, but it is all so muddled in your groggy head. 

You sit in the kitchen, hunched over the table, head in your hands. The bowl of cereal you had blearily made for yourself sits uneaten, growing soggier by the second. Heat burns in your eyes, but the tears don’t fall. Just hover at the edge of your lids and burn at your nose.

“They thralled us while we slept. Probably to keep us dead asleep while they left.” Across from you, Ewan sits sprawled in his chair. His head leans back, his hand pressing to his own forehead. “Feels like a godsdamn hangover.”

“That fucking asshole,” you sigh, shoving your cereal further away. You cross your arms and lay your head down on them, trying to ignore the anger and sadness churning inside your chest. To know Tabaeus would still thrall you, even after you bent to their request, makes bile crawl up your throat.

You don’t even look up as Ewan asks, “What’s our plan now?”

“What do you mean, what now? Tabaeus is gone,” you mumble, words muffled by your arms. Depressed resignation weighs heavily in your chest and in your words.

You catch movement as Ewan shifts. Something in the air shifts and you think he’s looking at you now. “You don’t want to go find them?” 

“Can we even find them?” Hopeless, you cross your arms atop the table and flump your head down into your arms. Lachlan was obviously powerful and Tabaeus was no schmuck when it came to his powers either. If neither wanted to be found, could you and Ewan have any hope to track them down?

Ewan’s silence answers your question. If Tabaeus didn’t want to be found, if he was so intent on just disappearing from your lives - both of your lives, really - could either of you find him? You don’t even know what kind of underground society vampires operated in. How hard would it be to dig them out? How many had centuries of experience, of power, to wield?

Silence descended on the two of you, as you both stew in woe. It was only when a small, unfamiliar voice interrupted the pity party that you looked up, “You can find him.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Next part is available on my Patreon already! ;3

[yuri-is-online]

Saturday Night Question (MMO AU)

a/n: Inspired by Recovery of an MMO Junkie and that bit of Ch. 6 where Idia assigns all the OB Boys rpg classes. Title comes from the op track which I highly recommend. (x) Loose modern au, NRC is an actual college everyone attends and Grim is still a talking cat-weasel-monster. Not everyone knows each other IRL so expect some minor catfishing. The MMO is based off of Final Fantasy XIV and will contain references to class and game mechanics but no spoilers.

For those unfamiliar with FFXIV chats

[FC] <Tempura Kun> this is the guild chat. Everyone in the guild can see this.

Tempura Kun >> this is a whisper, only two people can see this

[NOVICE] Tempura Kun: this is the novice network for mentors, only Riddle can see this

[Tempura Kun] if someone is texting it will be portrayed like this.

LFM- STYX (FC) recruiting, static needs a pure healer/off tank. Serious offers only.

Your buddy Epel talks you into trying critically acclaimed mmo First Fantasia because it has a thirty day free trial with unlimited game time and includes the first expansion as a joke but as college gets more stressful and you struggle to make irl connections it becomes your personal safe haven. You finally work up the nerve to join a guild and find yourself stuck in the middle of a really familiar set of egos. At least you're having fun.

Tempura Kun| lalafell| white mage/omni-crafter| Yu (you)

A college student living in a haunted mansion their dead beat dad's "renovating." You are only really interested in crafting after being really burned out on hardcore raiding from your last MMO, but agree to sub for heals so Epel can replace the group's usual off tank who's taking a hiatus. That and Gloomurai agreed to let you decorate the FC house, how could you refuse?

Granny Smith| male roegadyn| dark knight| Epel Felmier

One of your friends from class. Mannon keeps mailing him fantasia and insisting he change his race but he's really attached to how muscular this lets him be. He really just wants to play for fun, but he's super competitive and is super eager to try out harder content to "prove how manly he is."

Gloomy Samurai| female miqo'te| samurai| Idia Shroud

The leader of the fc and the person who runs the discord. Extreeeeeemely blunt to the point of being a bit unpleasant and downright scary. You're pretty sure they only let you join to get access to more pictures of Grim and because Epel's friends with the main tank. Super funny for someone so terminally online, but you are beginning to suspect they just- don't have a life outside of gaming.

Jude Bellerose| male hyur| black mage| Riddle Rosehearts

Knows the mechanics for every single fight in game and is scarily efficient at his rotation. Also extremely inflexible and refuses to adjust for a n y o n e, but blames the wipe on everyone else because he knew the mechanics so why don't you? Pretty sure he broke a keyboard while trying to clear the last raid tier.

Vivat Rex| male miqo'te| reaper| Leona Kingscholar

Rex plays this game for triple triad like a true king and is only kept on the static for his consistent dps. Claims that he doesn't pay attention to the discord but he knows everything everyone says in there anyway and responds any time someone vaguely mentions him. Likes to mess with Jude and is not above causing a wipe to out dps him.

Snake Whisper| male au ra| dancer| Jamil Viper

He has every single non-crafter class leveled and knows their rotation. Refuses to play anything other than dancer because he hates people pulling logs and enjoys holding dance partner over the other dps's heads. Likes to post pictures of his cooking in the discord and has his spotify linked to his account. Surprisingly willing to swap recipes if you ask, provided you promise to not give them to Nautilus.

Mannon Du Luc| male elezen| paladin| Vil Schoenheit

Epel's online friend who he says he hates but you're pretty sure he admires a whole lot. He's playing this game for glam, his dresser is maxed out with almost every limited piece ever added. He has completed every single piece of extreme content for the glam without being carried and expects the same level of competence from his off tank. Super nice to you though, he always coms his healers.

Nautilus Noise| male viera| sage| Azul Ashengrotto

Raid leader who does the call outs with Snake Whisper. Claims to be irl friends with Gloomurai but neither of them ever talk about their personal lives so who knows. Has ff logs installed and will pull them to... critique the other static members. You are 99.9999% sure he's playing the market board with 8 retainers but lack concrete proof. At least you can make him shut up if you compliment him.

[starshinedragon]

SSO New Feature: PANDORIAN PROPHECIES

Ydris' fortunes as they are in the game right now are pretty boring. Here are some upgrade ideas to add to make them more interesting.

A, Horse Prophecies: -> You recieve a random silly fortune related to horses, but the game uses info about your character to personalize it- examples: --This might be the day you buy the [ percheron (random horse breed) / black horse (random colour) ] you always dreamed of. --Fortune will favor you today if you decide to race with your [random horse breed you own] in the colours of [ the sky (random colour) ].

B, Mysterious Prophecies: -> You recieve a lore/quests/character/future related prophecies

Character related: --The four break the worlds, but the fifth one can save them. --Only you can see the true reality. You need but open your eyes. --The forebearers failed as it was written... will you repeat their mistakes? --The light blinds you to the truth of shadows. --A soul split between two worlds. You’re not as different from him as you think. --A star fell near the maw of darkness. It might still devour it. --Her light failed before. And it will fail again. --The Healer will fail, unless she can be as dangerous as she is feared. --Even the moon has a dark side. --The Scout’s vision will forever be clouded, until she is willing to look into the past. --She flew too close to the sun and has fallen from grace. --The Princess’ hybris may cost you everything. Every wish has a price. --The sun was extinguished, so the storm could rise. --Lightning flashes only briefly. The storm itself is dark. --If the Warrior doesn’t fight for the right reasons, the war is lost. --The Sage, the Sorcerer and the Seer all blind themselves to the truth. --The Sage failed before too many times and can’t believe anymore. This will be his downfall. --The Sorcerer was abandoned to head towards his downfall alone. Did this betrayal cost you victory? --The Seer hides his secrets in darkness. He is a coward and a hypocrite. --The Guardian guides you well, but he is too quiet about the truth. --The Wanderer may lead you astray. Be careful who deserves your trust. --The night always arrives in the end... even for the sun queen. --He served well. But no king rules forever. --The voice he heard was not an angel, but the devil. --The Warlock thinks he’s so important. But these powers tend to abandon you at the worst of times. He’s too arrogant to see that. --Hellfire heralds the new war. --The fires of war shall be reborn in the shadows of ash. --Darkness perishes in the dark place, but it never truly dies. --She brings the winter, perishes by frost and ice and emerges stronger. --When the sun eclipses, discord is born. --The false heir destroys the ancestor. --The dark child is a ruse. Not the night, but the dawn. --He always was, and always will be. You can’t drown the ocean, can’t kill death, can’t consume the void... --The mist... the mist blurs everything... but you shine through it like a star... he can see you.. it is your fault... --They sacrificed an angel to keep devil imprisoned. --The sacrifice was his awakening. The cycle will repeat until destiny is fulfilled.

Future related: --Torn between the triad of forces. But what is the right choice? --You may see his truth and her lies. --The fifth key can open all locks. But which are the right ones... --The three powers call for a fourth. It will either bind or break them. --You know where to find him. Approach. You shall be rewarded. --They all shall hear his whispers. They shall see the truth of the deep. --The stars shall burn out. The moon shall fade. The sun shall darken. And lightning covers the world in fires. The nightmare is nigh. --To save a world you have to let another perish. Are you ready to make the sacrifice? --This mist keeps him slumbering, but the fog will be an awakening. --Destined for freedom. You can only delay the inevitabe. --This happened again and again... will you be the last one? --It is destined to happen... what you fear the most... you will be its harbinger. --His will is fated to happen... one way or another... your every choice... you can’t run from from it... --Four keep him imprisoned, four light his way, and the fifth will decide his fate. --Will you betray your friends... or will your friends betray you? The choice must be made. --The lost child returns... to lead others back to him... --Your victories are futile. Only his glory lasts. This eclipse will last forever.

[variousqueerthings]

and okay the thing is that bits of the season aren’t universally straight

- chozen and daniel and amanda at the beginning basically seem to start up a little triad. daniel buys chozen a couch for 2000 dollars, shares clothes with him, helps him dress, etc. and while amanda at first isn’t happy with chozen there it’s more to do with how she feels like daniel hasn’t been honest with her and is keeping her out of the loop -- after daniel gets hurt she’s back with johnny as well, and the four of them *ahem* work very well together

- chozen especially gets to show how much chemistry he has with daniel and johnny (danzen and lawguchi and lawgurusso fans all sitting up straight) -- he is daniel’s protector and believer, no questions asked, and he and johnny bond over their shared pasts with daniel, while chozen easily explains things to johnny in ways he can understand (couching things in karate an immediate shared language). he fits so perfectly into the already established dynamics, in fact he irons them out, which has been one of my favourite headcanons for a little while when imagining a lawgurusso setup. that he’s the missing piece essentially

- meanwhile of course, the sam dreamscape is stuck in my head in permanent loop, it’s in my top three scenes of the season. it nails her conflicts as being consistently forced into different supporting roles, with an especially interesting focus on the word “girl” -- one of the girls, girlfriend, girl who broke my heart... ending on tory’s whisper in the darkness “i know who you are, princess,” and sam then fighting herself (who is tory)... i mean, you could analyse that scene for days, it’s so wonderfully rich, while also feeling really obvious (compliment) in its intentions

- the hideous love-square is all but non-existent this season, with the show making the choice for tory and sam to have bigger things to think about than boyfriends (as they have for awhile now), and robby and miguel ostensibly given the space freed up to consider what bits of their narratives haven’t been given their proper dues

- and then in darker places we have the fascinating dynamic between chozen and silver in the first few episodes -- the tension can be cut with a knife (joke? joke). they recognise one another as equals on opposite sides of the mat, and there’s a simmering hatred for everything the other represents + with daniel right in the middle of that dynamic!

- the silverrusso in the first half of the season was great, especially to me the scene with the bonsai trees, which encapsulates everything terry loves doing to daniel (well, maybe he also enjoyed literally beating bratty daniel into submission at last a little while later............)

- (unfortunately they really dialed back the cobra husbands, but you know, any scene those two occupy, even if it’s only briefly, in a flashback and a dreamish sequence, has great tension)

- and lastly in evil nastiness + my general feelings about how powerful the triad dynamics in this show are -- that scene in the last episode between silver and johnny, where he’s pulling his hair and telling him how he never saw what kreese saw in him (earlier we had the scene of kreese talking about how excited he was to train this kid, beginning the embers of jealousy) -- triads are really where I’m at personally with the adults of this show, amanda/chozen/daniel, amanda/daniel/johnny, daniel/chozen/johnny, silver/daniel/chozen, silver/kreese/johnny, kreese/silver/daniel... there’s something interesting for everyone!

[v-anrouge]

i was writing a fic but given how im perpetually busy and id probably never get to finish it soon, i figured i should let you know of its premise since i think you might like it! maybe you can expand on it further. it's between vampire!rookvil x artist!yuu;

-

two enigmatic lords, lovers of the macabre and of each other, inhabit a grand and gothic castle, perched majestically upon rural mountain heights. renowned across the realms as the supreme artisans of their age, they've amassed grand opulence by crafting portraits for royalty and luminaries alike. in recent times, the two have developed an uncanny penchant for summoning artists to emulate their visage-- to produce the perfect portrait. their enticement? a pledge of riches that could rival even the coffers of kings beckons these creative souls forth to undertake the challenge. the neighboring villagers, beneficiaries of the lords' benevolence, luxuriate in lives of opulence, corroborating the extent of their wealth. it is no mere exaggeration; the lords' reward is as genuine as the earth beneath one's boot, and the blood coursing through one's veins.

but instead of accolades and rewards, the fate that inevitably befalls each and every artist is that of their likely demise. all have vanished without a trace, never to be seen once they've entered the gaping maw of the castles entrance. and the villagers zealously guard the secrets of their lords-- turning away investigators and detectives who hope to unravel the rich mystery of this place as much as each and every artist who's come before them, hoped to leave a rich man. neither would they bestow upon eager ears the secret of what befits the title of the 'perfect portrait' in their lord's eyes.

one fateful day, an eccentric artist catches the whisperings of these lords, swept away by a mystic longing that transcends continents. they embark on an odyssey to present their craft to these reclusive masters. but to their astonishment, the lords revealed themselves as two radiant young men, instead of the venerable signiors they have braced themself to meet.

(they also cannot escape the nagging thought that these two lords bear a resemblance all too striking to the figures that incessantly haunted their subconscience during their artistic creations.)

they cast aside the notion of longevity, despite their reputation's conception seemingly exceeding their own. it's rude to ask a nobles age, right? atleast, that's what the baker with the gold flaked buns said.

but it serves no surprise when revelation of their vampiric nature soon follows.

these lords, magnificent creators of art themselves, were once beguiled by an artist of sublime talent, whose skills matched but were eclipsed by their elusive nature. as mortal nobles, they had discovered in this enigmatic artist not just a painter, but a confidant, a soul whose essence was even more tempting than the most beautiful nymph or the most enchanting siren. once intertwined in a duet of affections, they soon expanded to a triad of passion and intimacy even sappho and oscar wilde would blush to the deepest scarlet at hearing of such deeply obsessive and devoted escapades.

the mysterious artist spent countless months capturing the beauty of the lords in all sorts of intimate positions with such frightening accuracy, a testament to their shared love. but then a vanishing act, as mysterious as the artist themselves, left the lords desolate, their hearts consumed by an unfathomable void. a frantic search spanning across the nation's expanse and several years yielded naught but bitter despair. despaired of their loss, they withdrew from their noble life and into the decrepit castle by the mountains.

time passed, its cruel erosion, fading memories of their beloved artist to wisps of recollection. the lords, who had ever been the subjects of inspiration, found their beloved artist irretrievably lost. brokenhearted, they delved into forbidden realms of dark magic, exchanging their mortality for the siren call of everlasting youth, all to perfect their craft, to immortalize their lost love once found-- they're utterly sure to find. what else could they do once they've let themselves love them? simply let them go? forget about them? what preposterous foolishness. they would much rather be stake to their coffins than finally lay rest to their hearts longing for their beloved.

amid countless letters, books, and poems, and renaissance and raroque canvases kissed by their immortal expertise, the lords enshrined their lost lover. each tragic stroke, each pained word, a testament to their eternal devotion, kept the embers of affection and memory aglow. the nobles, who had maintained their connections with the pair, repeatedly sought commissions from the lords. secluded within their castle to escape grief, there was little reason to decline. they acquiesced, and word of their unparalleled skill echoed across nations.

soon after, when their wealth surpassed even that of kingdoms, they issued a public proclamation summoning artists from every corner of the globe to step forth and craft their likenesses in exchange for unparalleled renown. in truth, this proclamation was but a ploy to beckon the quest for their vanished beloved into their midst. for none but their estranged beloved possessed the artistry to capture their visage in such precision and affectionate allure—a talent matched by none. with each artist's futile attempt, grief swiftly transformed into fiery indignation, and the lords promptly, and very gruesomely, dispatched those who dared claim mastery in capturing their likeness.

but future artists were soon spared of the same end when their ploy finally accomplished just that-- bringing their sweetheart to their doorstep.

then, as if fate finally withdrew the cruel cards it had dealt upon this grieving couple, this young artist, the reincarnation of their vanished beloved, showed up in town. the veil of purpose behind the portrait painting scheme fell away, revealing a singular quest to reunite with their long-lost love, now reborn in their presence.

within the labyrinthine castle, the artist stumbled upon an opulent trove of devotion upon exploring the nooks and crannys of the gothic abode, where words, colors, and passion converged, immortalizing the home owner's past in an exquisite tapestry.

-

sorry this is so wordy GAGDHS its meant to be a summary but i got too giggly kick-my-feet-tity and made it too lengthy. this was at the conception of the idea so i didn't have an ending, but ive made some changes, albeit only a few, since then.

vil and rook ask malleus, king of briar valley, to grant them eternal youth (essentially vampirism. don't question why they ask the fae to do this i guess he gets lilia to turn them lolsies), and he relents, in exchange for a favour. i haven't worked out what exactly this favour was but it's definitely got to do with finding their lover and the aftermath of.

there is a fountain in the middle of the village square which strongly resembles yuu.

there is a scene in which rook takes yuu out hunting/they stumble on him hunting in the woods out back and it's meant to symbolically mirror rook and vil's hunt for yuu. it's also just an opportunity for strong homoeroticism.

customarily, vil dolls yuu up and likely gets some flashbacks to past life!yuu.

this is heavily inspired by the;

"when will a husband and wife who are widely rumored to be vampires invite me up to their once-gorgeous mansion which has fallen into some disrepair and then serve a beautiful meal that they barely pick at, sipping from glasses of dry red wine instead as they take turns complimenting me borderline-salaciously while shooting each other conspiratorial looks that i don’t know how to interpret before one of them insists that it’s getting far too late for me to be going back home alone and now i simply must spend the night….."

"in case the implied ending wasn’t clear enough: and then i get railed."

so yea fortunately or unfortunately for the masses there will be a lot of homoeroticism and probably smut because im gay and i can't quite help that!!!!

i did not emphasize this enough but vil and rook are yanderes here. whether yuu is one too is undetermined but they are lost in the maddening spiel of retrieving their lost lover and by the power of homoeroticism they will not let go.

there is definitely a scene of intimate nude modeling but im not a pure horn dog so im including character development and themes of art and love djaghdw

anyways that's all i believe?? im really busy these days so i didn't get to think much about this idea however i really would've loved to refine it and bring it to life! if you have anything to add onto it, please do! especially if it's about the vampiric or yandere aspects of it! i know you've got a mutual who's got vampire vil as their pfp and is into this so the rabies must be spread

ANON PLWASE I HAD TO TAKE 3 >THREE< BREAKS WHOLE RESDINT THIS CUZ MY MINR WAS EXPLODING GOOD LORD WHAT THE FUCK UR BRAIN IS SO FUCKING POWERFUL WHAT TYE HELL I LOVE THKS CONCEPT SO FUCKIING MUCH??? I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO ADD THIS FUZ LOKE FOR MW KTS ALREADY SO EPRFECT I LOVE THE REINCARNATED LOVER CLICHE ESP JF MEETING THEM AGAIN WILL MAKE THE LOVER WHO HAS TURNWD BITTER JUST GET SO PATHETHIV AND SICK BECAUSE THEY DONT WANT TO LOSE THEM AGAIN LIVE LAUGH HOMOEROTICISM

@khalixvitae HOMIE I THINK ANON WAS CALLING YOU

I NEED TO GIVE U A NAME ISTG EVERYTIME U COME INTO NY INBOX U DROP A BANGER