#you can choose to become more wolfish but you can’t go back to being more human except..

[sobekc]

thinking of making a slightly shameful self-insert werewolf character/story even though I’m absolute dog shit at making characters and narratives

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn��t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[glowingbadger]

Let's talk "Fertility Saint Cichol" for a bit, shall we?

No one requested this, I just wanted to let my mind wander on its own for once lol.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

cw: cock worship, deep throating, me being a shameless size queen

NSFW 18+

* and spoilers I guess idk

You've only been in Seteth's quarters a handful of times before, and always with him present. Today, however, it seems work has kept him late, and so you meander around his room, trying to occupy yourself without being overly intrusive as you wait to meet him for tea. Truthfully, there isn't much to see. A tasteful four poster bed with curtains drawn, several bookshelves, a work desk- as if he needs more opportunities to work, you think with a bemused smirk.

So, to keep busy, you choose a light bit of reading at random from an uncharacteristically unruly pile on the floor beside Seteth's desk. It appears to be an anthology of some rather fantastical tales centering the saints. As you skim through, you can't help a grin. Evidently, Cethleann was 9 feet tall and her hair was a literal flowing waterfall, while Indech once gave birth to a pegasus (the pegasus later rejoined his physical form somehow- it's rather vague about this point- which is why we've never seen physical evidence of it, so this text claims).

And then you reach a collection of poems dedicated to Saint Cichol. Your eyes scan the page, narrowing as they proceed. With each line, your face warms to a darker shade of red. It's... shockingly salacious. A fertility God? Goddess blessed manhood of awe-inspiring proportion? Virility that fills barren riverbeds?!

You're so consumed by the collage of erotic imagery conjured into your mind that you barely hear the door open behind you.

"My apologies for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting terribly long."

"Oh- not at all!" you say, turning to face Seteth as he enters. The stress of the work day is smoothed over by the warmth of his smile on seeing you. But he must notice something strange about your expression, as his brows furrow in curiosity. Then, he notices the book in your hands.

"Goddess help me- of all of the books you could have-" he quickly strides towards you and seizes it from you, tossing it back to its pile, "Please assure me that you didn't take any of that- that filth to heart." he says, his face twisted in exasperation as he runs a hand through thick green hair.

"Seteth, relax," you say with a gentle smile, "I figured it was all a bit..."

"Baseless conjecture is what it is- and heretical, at that," he says with disgust, crossing his arms and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Clearly I ought to have been more prompt in disposing of these particular texts."

You sympathize with his frustration, to be certain. Still. Your eyes can't help wandering up and down his frame before you and... you wonder.

"So... there's no truth to anything in there?" You step towards him and silently urge him to open his arms to you. He sighs and leans back against his desk with his hands gently at your waist.

"Nonsense, all of it- particularly that part about 'barren riverbeds' or some such." Despite his mood, his face flushes red at the reference to such claims on his own potent virility. You're not even fully conscious of the smirk spreading across your face, but you lean against him and run your hands slowly up his firm chest. Seteth has been rather demure about intimacy thus far. As of yet, you've hardly even seen beneath the starched collar of his robes. Perhaps this is the time to learn a little more about him.

"That book claims that you're the patron of fertility." you prod further. His chest rises as he inhales slowly, and you swear you can feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

"Yes, well- it was a... fringe belief several centuries past. I am- Saint Cichol is the only noted figure in the church known to have produced a child," you hum with interest, and by now, your body rests against his, and your hands have traveled down his torso. Seteth rambles on, glancing to the side and attempting the same tone he would use with a student, "the elemental association with the earth was also a factor, so I- I was... often prayed to for blessings of..."

One gentle hand reaches below his belt, and you gaze up at him for any sign of resistance or hesitation. He doesn't stop you, and doesn't look like he wants to. Your touch travels beneath his outer robes, between his thighs, where you immediately feel the heat of his manhood beginning to resist the confines of his clothing. You palm the impressive bulge, noting that even half-soft, he carries more than most men do at their full size. Seteth's posture stiffens, his eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. With an odd rasp in his throat, he whispers your name. Then, he pulls you close and kisses you with an intensity you'd always suspected he had in him somewhere.

As his lips press to yours, massaging yours slow and firm, your tongue grazes his, tentatively at first. He responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and running his tongue sensually against yours. You moan into his mouth, the friction between your bodies absolutely intoxicating, and your hand begins to stroke his manhood more firmly from atop the barrier of his clothing. His length hardens to your touch, growing in your hand as though to plead for more. Parting from his lips just enough to speak, you murmur,

"How long has it been since someone properly worshipped you, 'Saint Cichol?'"

Seteth's voice catches in his throat as he repeats,

"Worshipped...?"

Before he can question you further, you carefully lower onto your knees before him. Your touch is slow and indulgent as you enjoy the feeling of his now-massive cock straining against his pants. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him thoroughly transfixed by the sight of you prostrate beneath him, and your lips curl into a wolfish grin. Both of his hands come to grip the edge of the desk behind him as you part his robes and tug down the hem of his trousers.

The sight of that tower of flesh springing free to loom over you immediately sends urgent arousal flooding through your burning body, and you fail to hold in an excited whimper. Your pupils grow wide as you size him up with unabashed hunger in your gaze, and you can't even bring yourself to notice how tightly your fists are clenched around the front of his clothes.

"Goddess, Seteth-!" you gasp out, bringing a hand to wrap around his cock at the base, "You're so big...!"

He clears his throat, shyly turning his face away, as though he could possibly hide his conspicuous blush and flustered expression.

"I, er... thank you, I suppose..." he says softly.

"I can't even get my hand all the way around it..." you go on with evident awe in your voice. Slowly, savoring each impossibly thick inch, you slide your hand up the length of his shaft and down once more. Seteth inhales deeply. He must be rather sensitive; in fact, you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with someone intimately in some time.

"Are you... are you certain that you want this?" he asks, finally allowing his eyes to meet yours directly. You almost laugh.

"Seteth," you say as though scolding him, "I'd want to pleasure you regardless, but now that I know you have such an incredible cock, I can't think of anything I want more." He bites his bottom lip, his knuckles white as his fists clamp hard on the desk. Your smirk becomes only wider and more devious. Despite himself, he's clearly enjoying your praise.

"I can certainly see how this gorgeous cock would inspire... devotion, of a kind," you say, your hand traveling his length once more, this time merely to appreciate its shape and size. He groans softly, still fighting desperately to hold his voice in. With a feather-light touch, you run a single finger along the underside of his shaft, tracing a prominent, bulging vein. "I've never seen another that's even come close to yours, Seteth," you say, jerking your hand slightly at its base, "it almost seems a shame to keep it all to myself. Surely there are plenty who would like the chance to worship and adore their beloved Fertility God."

If your blaspheming bothers him any, he can't bring himself to reprimand you for it. Instead, he murmurs,

"I've no desire for any but you."

In reply, you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the crown of his cock. Seteth utters a shaky sigh of pleasure, and his length twitches subtly in reply. You raise your eyes to look up at your Saint.

"Can I taste it?"

"You may." he says softly. His stern brow is deeply creased with intense focus as you begin to work your lips around the head of his cock. It strikes you immediately how even wrapping your mouth around him only highlights how thoroughly this massive pillar puts any other to shame.

Seteth breathes out your name in a low, heated voice you've never heard from him before as you suck at his tip. Your lips seal around the ridge of his crown and you circle and flick him with your tongue, lapping at him all over until you feel his member throb for you. Each twitch and flex of his length is more powerful and more potent than the last, driving you to keep servicing him, to seek out those wonderful affirmations of pleasure.

By the time you dare to try taking him further into your mouth, your body leans against his legs, your hands clinging to his muscular thighs for leverage. Though, perhaps you've become over-eager; as you push yourself onto him, his cock burrows deeper and deeper, hitting your throat and then continuing to fill it. You struggle to open up for him as much as possible, grimacing as you fight your gag reflex. You're just barely past half of his full length, and he's pressing out against your throat enough to create a visible bulge. Seteth's body arches and his head tilts back as he groans your name. Then, you're forced to release him and come up for air.

Panting softly, you mutter,

"Damnit, I can't even reach the base."

"You... should not force yourself..." Seteth manages between strained breaths. As he steadies himself against the desk, you switch your focus for the time being. You begin at the root of his cock and drag your tongue up along the underside, following that same lovely vein you discovered earlier. With open adoration in your eyes, you go on to service him thoroughly with your tongue, licking and kissing every powerful, masculine inch of his rod. Then, when he's well and completely covered in your saliva, you grip the base and lead the tip to your mouth once more.

Dedicating yourself once more to your worship, you suck on his cock eagerly while steadily stroking what amount of it you can't reach in your hand. Your saliva slickens his shaft so that your hand can pump him steadily as your lips and tongue adore his tip in tandem. Seteth gasps aloud, his head leaning back once more to moan out his pleasure into the quiet of his quarters. Just once, you feel his hips buck toward you just a little- but he grits his teeth and holds himself in place, evidently worried for your comfort even now.

You increase your pace, wrapping your mouth tight and warm and wet around his enormous member, ever encouraged by Seteth's beautiful moans. Your tongue presses along the bottom of his shaft, causing him to rub firmly along the top of your mouth with every pass, and by now, you've even surprised yourself with your near obsessive desire to please him. Perhaps there was something to this "Fertility God" angle after all.

"If you... if you don't stop, I-!" Seteth bucks against you once more, and once more he fights to keep himself still, "I won't... be able to hold back...!"

Needing a way to assuage his doubts without pulling away from your sacred duties, you redouble your efforts instead. You take his thick cock into your throat until it hurts, threatening to make you choke each time you force yourself onto him, but you hold fast. The full length swells and throbs from tip to base, and Seteth is crying out your name like a plea. The strength of his grip actually causes the desk supporting him to creak, but you can't be bothered to care- you need him to cum for you, you're desperate for it.

Then, finally, with a tortured groan and a few choice words you didn't realize Seteth had in his vocabulary, his body trembles and his orgasm takes hold of him. Thick, hot cum pours into your throat, and you immediately swallow the first couple of shots, but it's not long before you're completely overwhelmed. Perhaps you should have eased up, rather than continuing to stroke and milk him with your free hand, but the dizzying thrill of his climax seems to be affecting you as well. When you simply can't take any more of him in your mouth, you pull away and allow him to spill the rest across your chest.

You look up at him from your worshipful position beneath him. You imagine you make for a sinful sight, subservient to his cock and now a mess of saliva and cum. And there is a moment- a brief, fleeting moment- when you can see something fiery and animalistic in Seteth's gaze as he regains himself enough to check on you. Yet he quickly suppresses it, and says,

"I- I apologize, I allowed myself to get carried away, and-"

"Seteth, please," you say with a laugh as you shakily rise to your feet, "it's just a bit of cleanup. A small price to pay for the chance to finally pleasure you."

He smiles sheepishly in return, helping to steady you, then placing a light kiss to your lips.

"I hadn't realized that you were so eager for the opportunity," he says, stroking a lock of your hair back into place, "If you will allow, I'd be honored to clean you up a bit and then return the favor."

"That sounds positively divine." you reply, and you're swiftly lifted into Seteth's arms and carried towards his private bath. Your knees still ache from the hardwood floor, but you hardly consider it for a moment. You're already looking forward to the next opportunity to show your devotion to your Saint.

[haechanhues]

pairing : han jisung x reader 

genre : fluff? in the weirdest sense. 

warnings : these two fools just constantly glaring and being lightly condescending to each other.  hooking up is implied.

summary : two exes meet at a restaurant to spy on their sisters who are on a date with each other. 

words : 1.1k 

Han pauses his stride as he spots you, looking like the weirdest person in the entire restaurant. You’re wearing sunglasses too small for your own head and your attempts to subtly peek over the couch to spy on your little sister on a date isn’t as subtle as you think it is. 

Pocketing his fake moustache and neon green sunglasses he strides over towards you, confident and a little condescending with a gigantic smirk on his face. 

He takes great pleasure at the fright you get when he leans into you, ‘I cannot believe you’re spying on your little sister.’ 

Your eyes narrow at his audacity to interrupt, ‘Why are you here then?’ 

‘It’s every older brother’s job to make sure their baby sister’s date isn’t acting up,’ He fake smiles and naturally takes the seat across from you. 

You lean forward into his space and Jisung leans back at how intense you look, ‘My sister is a great date, thank you very much. She’s just like me.’ 

Han snorts, ‘That’s exactly why I’m worried.’ 

‘Hey! I’ll have you know I make the best date. You should know, I dated you,’ You roll your eyes. Han’s eyebrows lift at your cunty attitude. 

‘Mhmm,’ Han’s eyes widened with fake agreement at your statement before he looks at the date your sisters are on, ‘We may as well order food.’ 

You can’t help but let your mouth water a little bit at the possibility of food. Han watches you smugly, loving how agreeable you were under the temptation of eating. 

‘Here, I’ll even pay,’ Han holds his card in between his middle and index finger with his signature smile. Any other time it would have gotten under your nerves but as an honorary member of his mischief, you can’t help but match the look on his face. 

You clap your hands together and skim through the menu before eyeing the most expensive dishes. Han sighs at how predictable you are before leaning into your personal space. You glare at the top of his head when you feel the slight tickle of his hair. But I find that he is too focused on the menu. You tentatively accept it, the smell of his shampoo becoming more tolerable and dare you say nice. 

Before he ruins it. 

With his voice. 

‘Have you decided yet? We don’t have all day.’ 

This time he is making direct eye contact with you when you narrow your eyes at him. He slightly shivers at your dark look you’ve cocooned him in before his eyes pull away from yours. 

‘Choose three numbers between 1 and-’ Han’s eyes flicker throughout the menu in front of him before looking into your eyes again, ‘30.’ 

You frown slightly before deciding to indulge him, ‘Ahh- 8,13 and 19.’ 

Han closes the menu with a snap before twirling away to the counter ignoring the way you make grabby hands and your shout of objection. He can’t help the smile that creeps up on him before sneaking a look back at you to see you fiddling with a napkin in front of you with the cutest pout on your face. 

Now a couple dollars poorer and with his extremely hot but just as hangry ex, Han can only judge the sight in front of him. 

You’re impatient, like always. 

Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Knock. Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Knock. 

Your knuckles can’t help the pattern - it’s a deeply rooted habit and yet, Han still manages to be irritated. His jaw clenches in annoyance as you fake your innocence. When he knows you know that you know exactly what you’re doing.

Just as he’s about to give you shit, the food is delivered and he wants to rejoice at how it kills two birds with one stone. 

You both are digging into your food so much, you miss the way your sisters walk past the two of you, holding hands and looking like the sweet couple nobody knew they would be.

It’s strange. 

With Han’s sister being of his blood and your sister being of your own blood. The fact that you and Han can’t spend more than ten minutes together without arguing whilst your sisters are sweetly looking at each other and holding each other in some way. Soft, sweet and everything the two of you are not. 

Your sister spots you first and can’t help the grimace that reaches her face before she turns to find her girlfriend’s brother as your date. 

‘What the hell?’ 

Han’s sister turns to look at her girlfriend curiously before following her eyes to her own brother. She groans at the sight of him before lighting up at the sight of you. 

‘Are they dating?’ Han’s sister says excitedly, holding her girlfriend by her waist. Her eyes are so bright and clear at the possibility. She’s been shipping you two ever since the two of you met and she can’t wait to see it happen. 

Your sister laughs at the pure naivety before snorting, ‘Yeah, right.’ 

But she doesn’t really know. Nobody does. You two were the weirdest couple-but-not-couple ever. Nobody knew what you two were. Nobody could control you either. So everyone learnt to begrudgingly accept the two of you and your relationship for what it is.

The two leave the restaurant, hand in hand and forgotten. The two idiots both remain seating, oblivious.

You’re slightly bent down to scoop the berries from your plate into your mouth when you ask a question, ‘How’s the date going?’ 

‘I don’t know- how are you feeling?’ 

‘Not us you dimwitted fool. I meant the girls,’ You swallow and take a sip of Han’s milkshake. You nod in satisfaction at the taste, letting out a small groan of delight. 

Han has what appears to be toast sprinkled on his cheeks as he takes a look at the place your sisters had been on. He frowns before scanning the restaurant, ‘Where did they go?’ 

You stop chewing before looking up and flickering through the people in the restaurant and yet, not a single person is your dear sister. Han wipes at his cheeks, still scanning the room for your sister or his. 

Pursing your lips you cast a dark look over at Han, purposely swirling your tongue in your cheeks dramatically. Han rolls his eyes at your display of annoyance before leaning in, ‘Fine. Babe, I’m sorry that I lost where our sisters were on their date.’ 

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face, mighty pleased with yourself. It’s a smirk that is meant for club music, strobe lights and red lipstick, ‘How are you gonna make it up to me?’ 

The wolfish grin that crosses Han’s face as he places his fork in the piece of fruit on your plate causes a rush to fill your entire body, ‘What are your plans for tonight?’ 

author’s note : even i have no idea what their relationship is. it’s something though, i’ll tell you that. this was a little fun idea i had. initially the two were just supposed to spy on their sisters and get up to their own little antics but it came out like this. 

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (4)

*This one was a week late thanks to finals. Hope this makes up for it!*

~~~

It is strange how normal things can be after having a revelation. Nothing really changes. The sun still rises, waves crash on the sand, and birds sing in the trees. It is all so painstakingly normal.

After I accepted that papa had really left me here, accepted that he had traded me for freedom, I don’t know what I expected. It felt as if the sky should at least be dark and bleak. Rain should be pouring down and the sea should rage like the storm inside me. It was almost comical how I expected such chaos and was greeted with warm days full of sun and sparkling waters.

I stopped looking for the Jolly Roger over the horizon. I stopped counting the days I had been trapped. I stopped trying to recall everything about my life before Neverland in some vain attempt to keep my memories intact. There simply was no reason.

Pan came by to see what I was doing after our nighttime encounter out on the sea. He never revealed himself but I could always tell when he was there. Watching unseen from the trees. Not interfering but not ignoring either.

One day some of the Lost Boys came by me when I was resting at my camp. Upon seeing me they stammered out apologies and ran off back to where they came. My heart panged because I wanted them to stay. I wanted someone to talk to. I thought of going to Tinkerbell but I knew if I did we’d end up talking about papa and I couldn’t put myself through reminders of him right now.

Most nights I heard music coming from the jungle but it didn’t have the hypnotic spell over me as it once had. It as no challenge to ignore it and I wasn’t sure if that was worse or better.

I only ventured towards the camp of the Lost Boys once. The sounds of joy and fun pulled me forward but the reality of what I was choosing kept me from going in. I watched from the sidelines as the boys whooped and jumped and danced around a raging bonfire. It reminded me of the nights where the crew would break out their instruments and dance on the deck. It was nothing pretty but it was fun. I could remember papa teaching me how to dance properly. Standing on his toes...

I reached for my pocketwatch and breathed out remembering how I had hurled it into the sea. I need to stop reminiscing. It’s only causing me more grief. I looked back up at the camp and saw Pan emerge from the shadows. It was as if he had sensed me for he looked right at me. There was a peculiar smile on his face. Almost inviting. He held out a hand towards me, his fingers curling to tempt me to his side.

My feet were rooted in their spot. It wasn’t until Pan took the first step towards me that I was able to move again and took off back into the jungle. I got back to my camp and huddled down in my hut. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I just enter the camp? Why couldn’t I move on?

I was just getting my breathing under control when I felt the familiar gaze of someone watching me.

“What do you want, Pan?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“So you have known that I was watching. I couldn’t tell for sure before.” Pan was closer, standing just outside of my hut. He bent down to peer inside at me. “Feel like talking now?”

I scooted out to the entrance. “Why did you follow me?”

“Because this is the first time since you kidnapped me that you’ve sought anyone out. Considering it’s been over a week since then I figured I’d meet you half way.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t live on your own forever. It’ll drive you mad. I imagine it already has some. That’s why you came to the camp.”

“How come you never said anything? You’ve been watching me for days without a word. Why say something now?”

“Like I said, you sought me out. You wanted space so I figured that I’d wait for you to come to me when you were ready. You can still come back to camp. It’ll be alright.”

My eyes snapped to his. “I don’t want to be a part of your crew.”

He gave a sigh and sat down next to me. “Still don’t trust me?” He asked.

“I’ve accepted the situation I have been forced into. My father traded me for passage out of this hellhole and since crossing realms is no easy feat I do not expect him to be able to come back for me. But…”

“There’s still a part that wants to believe he’s trying to return for you.” Pan’s voice was uncommonly gentle. Almost as if he was talking to a spooked animal. Perhaps that was what I was. A scared little creature that wanted to scuttle back into her hidey hole.

“You must think me a fool,” I scoffed.

“I think you’ve been spurned by someone you trusted and don’t know how to handle it.” He laid a hand on my back. It was surprisingly comforting. “In the years that I have lived I’ve learned a few things. One of them is that loyalty, once lost, is never earned again. Not true loyalty. Even if your father came back for you there is a part of you that would never trust him like you once did.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Pan studied me for a moment longer before standing up and holding his hand out for me, “Come along,”

“Where are we going?” I ignored his hand and stood up on my own.

“I’m showing you that you can trust me.”

He withdrew something from the pouch on his belt. It glittered like a jewel but had an odd shape. “This is a magic bean,” He said, “It can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“You’re not giving me that, are you?”

“No. We’re gonna go on a trip.” He grabbed hold of my arm, “Brace yourself, this can get a little rough.”

He dropped the bean on the ground and immediately the ground opened up into a swirling vortex pulling us both in. I clung onto Pan tighter. The journey was disorienting and my head was spinning when we finally were deposited somewhere else.

As the dizziness subsided I was able to note a few things. One, we definitely weren’t on Neverland anymore. We had been dropped on some dock where the cold air reeked of fish. In the distance there was a town. Most of the houses were dark but there looked to be an inn or a tavern that exuded warmth and energy.

Wait, I know this town! We would dock here all the time. This was where I lost--

My blood went cold. “Pan,” I turned to him, “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see,” He motioned for me to follow him. I pulled my coat tighter against me and followed after him into the town. The closer we got to the tavern the louder the cheer inside became. My legs felt like they were being weighted down by cannonballs the closer we got. Without even looking I could remember where everything was. Down that road was the blacksmith. Around that corner was a bakery. To the right of that well was the apothecary.

Pan noticed me lagging behind and grabbed me to keep up with him. “Really Pan,” I tried to pry his hand off my arm as we entered the tavern. “Why are we here?”

“Because he’s here,” Pan pointed to a spot near the back of the tavern.

Sitting at a table surrounded by pirates and wenches was my father playing a card game and drinking.

“Papa…” A part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him and never let him go. Another part of me kept me rooted in my spot. I turned to Pan. “What is this? Why’d you bring me here? To show me what I’ve lost?”

“Not at all,” he released my arm, “This is your chance. Return to him.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. If you want to you can be reunited with your father and I give you my word I will never bother you again.”

“It’s a trick. A trap of some kind!”

“No tricks here, swordfish. I am being completely serious.”

“You’re releasing me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

I took a tentative step away from Pan. I took another waiting to see if he would stop me but he made no move. I stepped closer and closer to where papa was sitting. This was real. I can go home! After so long I can finally be with my family again!

“Is that the Lady Jones I see?” The sound of a familiar voice silenced any joy I held.

I turned to see who had addressed me. A familiar pirate with overgrown red hair and a stubbly chin walked towards me. He was all muscles and devil-may-care charm wrapped in worn brown leather.  “Karver,” I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t be surprised you’re here.”

“Are you still sore about the last time we met that you won’t call me Quentin?” he shook his head, “If you’d allow me I’d like to make up for it.”

“I don’t want anything from you. After months of being trapped I have finally gotten away from the hellscape that was Neverland and want to get back to my father and crew.”

“Ah yes,” Karver threw an arm over my shoulders. I tried not to shudder. “Captain Jones was regaling the tavern with the tale earlier. Nasty stuff you all encountered. I was wondering why you weren’t with the crew celebrating.”

“That’s because I only got off the island recently. I haven’t had months to become numb to everything we went through while trapped in Neverland like they have.”

“Months?” Karver’s eyebrows knit together, “Kitten, the crew of the Jolly Roger shot up from the sea like a ghost ship a week ago. They’ve been drinking the town dry ever since.”

“A week? It’s only been a week since they left Neverland? A week!” I fumed. No...no this couldn’t be happening. I was on Neverland by myself for months and it hadn’t even been a week here? I knew time moved differently in Neverland but I never expected this!

“Problem?” Karver asked.

I looked across the tavern at my father. My father who was laughing and drinking with some floozy on his lap without a care in the world. This was the same man who had gone silent for months after mama died. It took him years to be comfortable enough to act like the wolfish pirate I saw before me when mama died. To him I had been bargained away a week ago. A week ago he gave me up to escape and what was it I found? He wasn’t mourning. He wasn’t trying to find a way back to me. He was in a tavern getting drunk and having fun. He was here having the time of his life knowing full well that I was stuck on Neverland at the mercy of Pan and the Lost Boys.

I shoved Karver away and stormed back out of the tavern. Pan was waiting outside.

My voice trembled with anger and betrayal. “He was never going to come back for me. It wasn’t even a thought in his head. Was it?”

“I thought it best if you saw for yourself.” Pan said.

“Why though? I’m his daughter! Don’t I mean anything?”

“Sounds like something to ask him.” Pan nodded towards the tavern.

I shook my head. Bitter tears pouring down my face. “No. I want out of here. I want to leave. Now!”

Pan held out a hand for me. “Do you trust me now, Lost Girl?”

I took one last look inside at the man who raised me. The man who sold me. I took Pan’s hand. “I want to go home.”

Pan smiled and withdrew another bean. The next moment we were falling through a portal on our way back to Neverland. The air was warm once again, the sand was pliant and soft beneath my boots. I took in a deep breath, salty ocean air with just a hint of flowers from the jungle on the tail end of it.

I remembered what I told Pan before we returned. I didn’t say I wanted to go back to Neverland. I said I wanted to go home. When did Neverland become home?

“Feel like coming to camp now?” Pan asked, giving a little tug on our interlaced hands.

“Can we stay here tonight? I don’t think I have the energy to go to your camp right now.”

“We?” Pan asked, “Am I to take it that you want me to stay?”

Heat started to creep up my neck and I gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t want to be alone again.” I admitted. I felt like a child. I was practically begging him to stay here with me.

Pan’s features softened and we sat down. His hand still held mine and he used his other to light a small fire for us. “You won’t be alone ever again, Lost Girl.” he murmured, “I promise.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 14 | To Hunt a Monster

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5k 

Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open! Double also! I took some liberties with the Alp, pls don’t hate me 

Visenya swings her blade down, metal clanging against metal. A small bead of sweat runs down her forehead, falling from her brow bone and landing on the ground. She tosses her blade to the other hand, pulling it up just in time to block the incoming attack, their clashing swords forming a ‘T’. She nimbly moves to the side, and away from her opponent, breaking away from his sword. With otherworldly grace, Visenya whirls around in a half-circle, now standing behind him, pushing her blade forward to pierce through his back. He turns around, jumping back before the hit makes contact, pushing it out of the way with his own.

Metal rings in the clearing as they continue their deadly dance. Geralt kicks his leg out, centimeters away from hitting Visenya’s knees. She brings her blade down in a half crescent shape, smacking the side of his leg with the flat part of her blade. He grunts out a laugh, unbothered by the hit, but it allows Visenya to jump back from his assault. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, White Wolf,” Visenya teases, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she awaits Geralt’s next move. He snorts and lunges towards her once more. She sidesteps him, using her smaller size to her advantage. She laughs, the sound blending yet also clashing with the sound of two blades meeting in a bind. 

“You’re too arrogant,” Geralt says, pressing against her blade with more force. 

He smiles, a smile that’s all teeth, nearly feral looking. Visenya's arm begins to shake, her strength quickly dwindling. But before she can attempt to pull back, Geralt suddenly drops his blade, the lack of resistance causing Visenya to stumble forward. At the same time, he sweeps his leg out, her stumble morphing into a fall. 

Thud.

Visenya lands on her back, sword falling out of her hand. Without hesitation Geralt kicks it out of her reach, pointing his sword at her throat.

“It’ll get you killed.” His tone is grim, face set in a deep scowl. “--again,” he adds as an afterthought. Her confession from weeks ago is still fresh, pushed to the forefront of his mind every time he so much as glances at her. 

“Well if you didn’t play cheap,” Visenya says, minor annoyance etching a deep scowl onto her face. 

“There is no such thing as playing cheap when it comes to fighting. You either win or you don’t,” Geralt says, scolding her like a father would an unruly and stubborn child. But if he’s as old as Visenya thinks, she might as well be. 

“Whatever,” Visenya mutters, not moving from her position on the ground, instead she moves her gaze upwards. Threads of dawn emboss the sky, rays of pink and orange tinting it, their vivid colors offset by opalescent clouds. It’s quiet, nearly too quiet, if not for her rapid inhale and exhale of breath.   

“You’re good, but you’re too wild,” Geralt says. He tosses his blade aside, reaching a hand down to help her up. Her face flushes red from exerting too much energy, with breathes that're too quick, the spar taking more of her energy up than it should’ve. Then again, for years her only constant companion had been Jaskier, and he ended up pricking three of his fingers before even fully lifting a sword. That was the last time she attempted to arm him. 

“Don’t patronize me,” Visenya says, blowing away the stray hairs that fell out of her ponytail and onto her face. 

“I’m not. I’m giving advice. Besides--” Geralt looks over at her, the corners of his mouth slowly pulling into a grin. His slightly sharper teeth give his grin a wolfish appearance, predatory and mischievous in nature. “--when did you become such a sore loser?” Geralt teases.

“I don’t know, around the time you got slow,” Visenya responds, grabbing onto Geralt’s outstretched hand. But instead of using it to pull herself up, she yanks on it with all of her remaining strength, causing Geralt to tumble to the ground. 

His eyes are wide with bewilderment and shock, a small giggle bubbling from Visenya’s mouth, taking special notice of the green grass that mingles with his tangled white hair. Geralt scoffs, but there’s a small smile on his face that betrays his amusement, small droplets of dew on his hair that glisten in the sun, like tiny beams of light. 

Visenya sits up, repositioning herself to be more comfortable on the ground. Geralt follows suit, shaking his head like a dog. Brown twigs and emerald leaves fly in the air and disappear into the sea of green that’s now tinged with dark brown.

Geralt opens his mouth and laughs, it’s not overly loud and merry sounding, but it’s more than he normally gives. The sound echoes in the small clearing, dancing away in the wind to bless someone else’s ears with the soft sound. His eyes shine in the light, causing him to almost look ethereal. Visenya smiles, her heartbeat speeding up, ever so slightly, and for the life of her she can’t figure out why. 

“I meant it, you're improving,” Geralt says, placing his arms on his knees and staring at the trees that surround them. 

“Are you saying I was a bad swordsman before?” Visenya teases, the smile on her face quickly evaporates, however, when Geralt doesn’t return the mirth. She scoffs and smacks his arm. “You are saying I was a bad swordsman!” she exclaims, disbelief causing a small laugh to escape her mouth. Ser Rodrik trained her himself and before him, Jon. Two of the best swordsmen in the North trained her, a bad fighter is the absolute last thing Visenya would label herself as. 

“No, just...chaotic,” Geralt says, seemingly unbothered by her assault. 

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at him. 

“No, but it’s the truth. You fight well, but you fight without control or discipline.” Geralt says.

“So I’m unruly?” 

“Like a tornado or a wild animal,” Geralt says, a smirk on his face. Visenya rolls her eyes, smacking him once again - just for good measure. With a huff, she tightens her ponytail, pushing away the sweat coated baby hairs that stick to her forehead. She stands from the floor, walking towards the edge of the clearing where her leather bag is haphazardly resting against a tree. Crouching down and opening the main pouch, she pulls out two apples - one red and the other green. She tosses the red one in the air once, then launches it at Geralt as soon as it grazes her palm. He catches it with ease, not even bothering to look in her direction. Visenya smirks, taking a bite out of the remaining apple. 

“Would you believe me if I said I was raised by wolves?” Visenya asks. There’s a smirk on her lips, a gleam in her eyes that says she’s in on a joke that no one else knows. And she revels in it. 

“Yes,” Geralt simply replies, eyes wandering towards the sky, basking in the calm that seems so fleeting when on the road with a monster hunter. 

“Well, I choose to take both of those answers as a compliment. It just means I’m a force to be reckoned with in - and out - of combat. I think my ancestor and namesake would come back from the dead just to murder me if I wasn’t a half-decent fighter,” Visenya says, staring up at the thick canopy above her. She inches closer into the forest, not committing to entering it completely, but getting close enough. The singing of birds in the distance soothing to her ringing ears, allowing her thoughts to pause if only for a moment. 

“Hmm,” is Geralt’s only reply.

“She was a warrior queen, as comfortable in ringmail as she was in silks, as they say. She was legendary” Visenya says, wistfully staring into the trees, getting lost in the melancholy that usually follows when she thinks of her family. 

She remembers the stories her Septa would tell her, and the old dusty books she’d find in the library. She can nearly taste the old stale dust that coated the books, flying into the air once her fingers made contact. But she also remembers her eyes desperately drinking in each word, fantasizing that she was the one flying on a dragon, so high in the sky no one could touch her. 

Not Robert Baratheon, nor Tywin Lannister, not even The Mountain. But those were foolish daydreams of a child, who didn’t fully understand the nuances of things, nor how horrible some of her family truly had been. 

“And I was named after her. Sometimes I feel like I’m not worthy of it. It’s not like there are a dozen other idiots with the same name - who are more foolish than the last, not like Aegon or Viserys,” Visenya mutters to herself, hardly even registering that Geralt is still keenly listening to her ramblings. 

“I didn’t realize Jane was a family name,” Geralt says, his red apple still in hand, untouched. Visenya breathes out a laugh, the sound being swallowed by a strong gust of wind. 

“No of course not, it’s Vise--” Visenya starts, but closes her mouth, turning to face Geralt who watches her with a curious gaze. She coughs, glancing at the trees one last time before returning her gaze to Geralt. “How do you know it wasn’t my ancestors that made the name popular?” 

Geralt raises a brow, his expression showing how little he’s buying her pathetic save, but he doesn’t press the issue, thank the gods. Visenya continues biting into her apple, savoring not only each sweet bite but also the silence surrounding them.

“You’re light on your feet,” Geralt says after a moment. Visenya turns to look at him, a question on her face with raised ashen eyebrows. “Use that to your advantage. Most of your enemies will be much larger than you, bulkier. Which means they’re slower. Tire them out and run circles around them. You’ll never be able to beat them with brute force.” Geralt says, still looking towards the sky, eyes focusing on a particular bird.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

o0o0o

“So an alp?” Visenya says, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface of the table she sits at. Her posture is relaxed, languidly sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. The room they’re renting is tiny, unbearably claustrophobic with the stench of stale air lingering in her nose at all hours. But it’s the only one in the small village, their size and lack of constant travelers not allowing for them to sink too much money in the rooms, opting to spend their coin on ale and food. At this point Visenya would rather stay in a brothel than here, at least they try to sell the idea of luxury and comfort - no matter how off the mark they may be. 

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts, tossing his leather bag across the room. Visenya watches as it glides through the air like a cannonball before landing with a loud thump on the bed. She returns her gaze to Geralt, who moves across the room, towards her, a pitcher of ale in hand. He sets it on the table, the force of it causing small droplets of ale to splatter onto the table. The fire in the corner of the room crackles, forcing itself into their conversation like a bothersome sibling. 

“Oh don’t tell me, I know this one. Let me see...alps are the ones who take humanoid forms to lure their victims and then they drink their blood until there’s nothing left, right? They also have the whole ‘saliva that puts its victims to sleep and can cause horrible nightmares’,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips, eyes glowing with pride and self-satisfaction. 

“You already know you’re right,” Geralt says, a lilt of amusement in his otherwise deadpan tone. Visenya smirks, grabbing a mug and pouring ale into it, careful to not spill any. She sets the jug back down, throwing her cup back and downing nearly all of it. The amber liquid is bitter, not as smooth and sweet as Cintran ale. It burns and not in a pleasant way. Her face scrunches up, lips puckering and eyes firmly shut, forcing the remaining liquid to go down her throat and not out her mouth.

“I know, doesn’t mean I don’t like receiving validation,” Visenya remarks after managing to swallow the swill disguised as ale, glancing towards the sole window in the room. The sun is starting to set, and swiftly, night time will come before either of them have a chance to blink. Visenya pushes back her chair, the wood screeching against the floors. 

“Hmm,” Geralt simply replies, pouring a cup of ale for himself, and drinking it similarly as Visenya. However, he manages to keep any unpleasant expressions off his attractive face. Her eyes rest on his lips, gaze focusing on a droplet of ale that hangs precariously on his lips, nearly falling to the ground. A part of her wants to place her lips on his, to test if maybe the ale would be sweeter coming from his lips. But she snaps her eyes away quickly and banishes the thought, not wanting to linger on it for too long. 

“So where are we off to,” Visenya asks. She turns away from the table, grabbing her pack and beginning to shuffle around in it. “I can’t remember where they take residence, so I can’t be help there but--” Visenya starts to ramble, but Geralt cuts her short. 

“What do you mean?” Geralt asks, standing from his chair as well. Visenya turns around, her cloak in hand. 

“I mean, where are we going? We are planning on killing this alp aren’t we?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at Geralt. 

“I am going to kill the alp. You’re staying here,” Geralt says. His voice is stern, his mind set, leaving no room for argument. But Visenya has never been good at just sitting down and letting other people make decisions for her. 

“Are you serious? You’re trying to keep me out of this?” Visenya says, disbelief lacing every word. She laughs, a mocking one that lacks any warmth or humor.  

“You’re not ready for an alp,” Geralt says, maintaining his cool and unattached demeanor. Yet Visenya notices a faint twitch in his eye, annoyance with her constant need to question every choice he makes. 

“Not for a nightwraith either, apparently. Yet I helped kill that too,” Visenya says, her temper flaring, fire lacing her words.

“And almost died in the process,” Geralt says, his voice rising just a hair. Visenya scoffs, rolling her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second before returning her gaze to Geralt. 

“Every situation that involves fighting also involves almost dying. That’s how fighting works, there’s always a chance you won’t come out alive,” Visenya says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“So you throw yourself into every fight, even the ones you don’t have the capabilities to win?” Geralt asks, sarcasm distorting his question. 

“Precisely,” Visenya says, turning away from Geralt and throwing her traveling cloak over her shoulder, clasping it so it’ll stay on properly. She grabs her bag and sword, slinging the bag over her shoulder and attaching her sheath to her hip. 

“You can throw yourself into suicide battles with someone else, you aren’t coming,” Geralt says, the volume of his voice continuing to rise. 

“Yes, I am. What’s the point of me being around if I’m not being useful?” Visenya exclaims, stepping towards Geralt. She feels like a child again, being scolded for wanting to learn how to fight rather than perfecting her needlepoint or sewing skills. 

“You can come on the next hunt,” Geralt says.

“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that!” Visenya yells, waving her arm in Geralt’s direction, emphasizing her anger and frustration.

“You weren’t ready any of those times!” Geralt counters. Visenya slams her fist against the wooden table, the impact causing the ale to nearly tip over. Pain blossoms on the spot that made contact with the table, but Visenya can’t be bothered by it at the moment. 

“Damn it Geralt! Apparently, I’ll never be ready according to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. The candles in the room wildly flicker, nearly going out as the temperature in the room drops, subtly at first, until it’s nearly as cold in the room as the outside. Heat rises in Visenya, growing stronger with each passing moment. The smell of burning fills the room, light smoke wafting from the table into the air. 

Like suddenly falling into ice, Visenya removes her hands from the table. There’s a clear burn mark in the vague shape of her fist, the wood lightly charred. She sighs, loudly, closing her eyes and relaxing her clenched fists. The warmth in the room returns, the candles flickering with life once more. Her heart pounds, mind completely blank. 

Silence. 

“I need air,” she mutters after a moment, not bothering to glance at Geralt. And before he can react, she flies out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

o0o0o

Night cloaks Visenya, hiding her from any prying eyes and wandering gazes that hold no good intentions. She pulls the cloak closer to her body, hood up and head down, eager to be free from this stifling small village. The air is cool, but it’s refreshing, easily tempering the fire in her. 

“Get it together, Visenya!” she whispers, smacking a hand against her forehead, hoping the sting from the pain might smack some reason into her. 

A child. That’s what she’s acting like. Screaming and throwing a tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants. It’s irrational. And pathetic. Whining and crying won’t get Geralt to agree to let her come, but that doesn’t temper the frustration she feels when he won’t. She’s not a child, she’s a woman, who can make her own decisions. Why should Visenya need a keeper to tell her what battles to and not to get involved in? 

She continues marching forward, quickly leaving the village and all her anger behind. The grass is longer, instead of brushing against her ankles, it reaches the middle of her calves in certain spots. The trees are thick, their lush canopy of leaves acting like a guardian protecting her in their beauty. It’s almost like the Godswood, but not nearly as beautiful, yet it evokes similar feelings in her. She deeply inhales, releasing it a moment later, allowing her tense body to melt and fly off with the breeze. Subconsciously, her hand grazes the embroidered direwolf, lightly tracing it with the tip of her finger.

Snap.

A twig cracks, echoing in the silence. Visenya pauses, head snapping up, eyes raking the surrounding area. Nothing but towering trees with shadows acting as cloaks. She turns around, hand ghosting over her sheathed blade. Her breathing is quick and uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. Her lip trembles and she bites down on it, unwilling to show signs of fear or weakness. 

“Who’s there?” she calls out. “Reveal yourself, now!” she demands, eyes scanning the path behind her. 

Silence.

She lets out a breath, watching as it appears only to dissipate into the cold air. She lowers her hand from her weapon, moving down the path she came from, eager for the warmth and light the tavern offers. 

Snap. 

She world around, gold eyes blazing like a fire in the thick of night. The forest seems endless, shadows dancing at the corner of Visenya’s vision, mocking her with deafening silence and blinding loneliness. 

“I said, who is there.” Her voice is stone, not allowing even a glimmer of fear to seep into it. It cuts through the darkness like a freshly sharpened knife, her voice echoing far beyond what vision can perceive. 

Snap.

Another twig, this time closer than the previous two. Like she’s made of air, Visenya quickly turns, but instead of stifling nothingness, a figure stands a few inches away. It’s a woman, with blood-like hair flows over her bare shoulders, the tips of it resting on its stomach. Her skin is pale, nearly grey in hue, but what’s most alarming isn’t her lack of clothing nor the murder in her eyes, but the blood splattered all over her. Some of it is dry, coating parts of her body like armor, while a few splatters appear to be fresh, still dripping off its body and splashing onto the ground. 

It smiles a twisted smile that perfectly displays all her sharp teeth, tinted crimson from the blood. 

An alp. 

“Fuck.”

They move in unison, Visenya unsheathing her blade as the woman - or creature - lunges forward. It proves to be faster, body-slamming her to the ground. Its hands grab a hold of Visenya’s nails digging into her flesh. She screams but clamps her mouth shut, not willing to feed the lust for blood and pain in the creature’s eyes. It snarls, pushing against Visenya’s arms with inhuman strength, pressing them onto the damp ground. It hisses, droplets of drool tainted with blood falling onto Visenya’s face. She thrashes, attempting to force the beast off of her. 

Her eyes feel heavy, suddenly, the desire to sleep and never wake up washing over her like a tsunami. But she fights against it. 

‘If I sleep now, I’m dead. Stay. Awake,’ she keeps repeating in her head, willing the words to manifest into reality. 

It hisses once more, almost mockingly. It leans down, inches away from sinking her teeth in Visenya’s throat. Visenya lifts her head, siphoning all the strength she can manage and smashes her forehead against the beast. It wails, falling back in pain, allowing Visenya to scramble out from under it. The creature continues to scream, the noise deafening. The sound causes her insides to twist and her head pound, to the point that she fears it might burst. She grabs the sides of her face with both hands, hoping to muffle the sound and make the pain stop. She closes her eyes, thoughts blurring together, as memories she only sees in her dreams fare to life in her head.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Visenya of House Targaryen, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” Jaime Lannister’s face appears in her vision, a much younger version than the one she’d last seen. His gold hair is soft and thick, falling perfectly into place. He holds a wooden sword in one of his hands, resting the flat part of it on her shoulder.

Visenya giggles, the noise hazy and unclear. She stands from her kneeling position, curtseying to Jaime, stumbling forward, and nearly face planting. 

“Thank you, good ser,” she replies, a beaming smile on her childish face. He kneels, so his eyes meet hers. He holds out the small wooden sword, the size suited for a child of five. 

“Now go, protect your mother Queen. It is your duty as a sworn member of her Queensguard,” he says.

“Fuck!” she screams. She rapidly blinks, attempting to force the images away. There’s too much danger, too much at stake to lose focus for even a second. The creature prowls towards Visenya, grabbing onto her leg and pulling her body towards it. Like a sack of grain, her body drags in the mud towards the monster. Visenya is powerless to fight back, only able to pray that the pain in her mind and body will go away. The creature flips her body: back against the ground and face looking towards the sky. She kicks her legs, managing to miss the alp each time. Its hands continue to move up Visenya’s body as it pulls her closer. 

“Where are we going, Ser Jaime? Shouldn’t you be protecting my grandfather?” Visenya asks, rushing to keep up with Jaime’s longer strides. 

“I need to show you something,” he says, voice grim but not harsh, yet it lacks the mirth normally present. He stops outside a door, and in her desperation to catch up, she nearly smacks into his legs, but narrowly avoids it since Jaime stops her body. He opens the door, which creaks loudly as it swings fully open. They’re in a room Visenya is all too familiar with, her mother’s chambers.

“Why are we--” Visenya begins, but cuts herself off as Jaime moves into the room. He strides through it, eyes focusing on one wall in particular. She rushes after him, eyes alight with curiosity she needs to sate. 

He stops in front of a wall, crouching down. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Visenya, even as her smaller feet patter against the stone floor, getting closer to him. She pauses only when she stands beside Jaime, grabbing his arm with one hand, placing her small head on his armored shoulder. A wall, there’s nothing else there but a wall; yet his eyes trace it intently, searching for something she can’t see.

“A wall?” Visenya asks brows furrowed with a small pout on her lips.

“It’s not just a wall, look.” Jaime runs his hand down the wall, pausing on one spot. He digs his fingers into it, grasping onto… something. Visenya watches with wide eyes as a portion of the wall slides open, revealing a small opening in the wall - large enough to fit a child and no more. “A crawlspace.”

“Why’d you show me this? I don’t need to hide?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion. She turns and looks at Jaime, her nose twitching slightly as she looks up at him.

“You will. The war isn’t going well, and if the city is attacked I need you to promise you’ll hide here?” Jaime pleads, speaking in a hushed tone, keeping the words hidden in her mother’s chamber.

“I don’t--” Visenya starts, but is cut off before she can argue further. 

“Promise me,” Jaime says again, his voice more pleading and desperate. It’s a funny sight thinking back on it with adult eyes and a jaded mine: the lion begging for something, throwing aside all pride and appearances of regalness. 

Visenya hesitates, watching him carefully for a moment, eyes too sharp for a child of five. 

“I promise.” 

Visenya slams her head against the dirt ground, trying to get the distant memories out of her head, hoping to force her body to stay awake and not succumb to sleep. Long, sharp, dirtied nails grab a hold of her shirt, pulling up her upper body. It snarls, lunging its face towards Visenya’s neck. 

Searing hot pain spreads through her body. Yet it doesn’t leave her on fire, instead, it’s numbing like ice. Momentarily, the pain it’s screech caused is soothed, only to return tenfold. It’s like a million daggers are stabbing into her body, over and over again, in the dead of winter. She begins convulsing, screaming, louder than before. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Visenya. Look at you, you’re not a child anymore, no, you’re fully grown, fighting Robb Stark’s little war,” Jaime Lannister says, sarcasm and mocking lacing every word. He lifts his dirt-caked face, looking up at Visenya with wide green eyes that somehow manage to still sparkle, even in all the filth that surrounds them. 

“Shut up. I didn’t come here to talk to you,” Visenya says, keeping her voice as cool and calm as the winter winds. Her voice is low as to not alert any nearby guards, allowing the heavy wind to obscure most of her words. 

“Really? Come to just see the spectacle then? See the state of the man who killed your grandfather and ruined your life?” Jaime spits, but he lacks any real venom. He’s like a lion, trying to make himself appear as large as possible in hopes of avoiding real conflict. Visenya ignores him, however, moving closer into his cell without fear. 

“Or maybe you want to laugh?” Jaime mutters, banging his head against the post he’s chained to 

Silence is his only response. Visenya moves further into his cell, holding something cold and metal in her hands that glints in the moonlight. Once she’s within arm's length from Jaime, she crouches onto the ground, purple meeting green. 

“Well come one, don’t leave--” Jaime begins, but promptly shut his mouth, tightly clenching his jaw with furrowed brows. 

Thud.

The metal chains fall to the ground, inches away from Jaime. His eyes follow the chains that no longer bound him, lines of confusion appearing on his forehead underneath the dirt and blood on it. 

“Thank you, for my life,” Visenya mutters. Jaime moves his gaze back to her, and in her glossy eyes, he softens his armor - if only for a moment. Visenya begins to shake, like a leaf in a storm, remembering the simpler times that she ran around The Red Keep like a wild animal, and when Jaime Lannister wasn’t enemy number one to her family. Then like the wind, Visenya turns, quickly disappearing into the night.

She tries to headbutt the creature again, but she can’t move her head far enough to attempt it.

‘Fire, use fire!’ Visenya yells at herself, willing the flames that usually dance under her skin to flare to life. But nothing happens. She closes her eyes, focusing harder this time, trying to replicate the feelings swirling in her mind when she argued with Geralt. Tries to reign in the adrenaline from the Cintran Betrothal Feast or even the anger and grief she was drowning in at Blaviken. 

Nothing, not even a flicker of heat. 

She lets out a cry of frustration as the alp continues to drain her of blood. The world becomes dark, eyes heavier than previously. She continues to shake, trying to fight off the beast, even when her limbs feel like dead weight. Moments later, everything begins to feel light, the pain and fear slowly slipping away until she feels nothing at all. Eventually, her eyes flutter closed, the world turning black.

o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you.

@lyssstark01​ | @ayamenimthiriel | @splderparker | @1967-chevy-impala-called-roscoe | @historicallydysfunctional | @stuckupstucky | @aknerdchick | @c-a-v-a-l-r-y | @itskatrinahere | @locht3ssmonster | @alwayshave-faith | @im-catching-feelings | @magic-inthe-stars | @thors-hair-extensions | @seninjakitey | @nevaeh-eden-morningstar | @losers-club6 | @queenmendes | @madamwhisper | @deadlydemon | @power-of-words23 | @demigoddesofchimichangagod | @howlongtillidie | @notatallfriendly | @i-have-arrived-bitch | @moonlights27 | @xxperfectionisdeadlyxx | @why-do-i-even-study-japanese​ | @possiblyafangirl​ | @alatairion​ | @teamcap0221​ | @rangotangomango​ | @mikariell95​ | @rubyliquor​ | @my-not-so-perfect-reality​ | @kamrynzam​ | @kohsongbird​ | @napoleonisrad​ | @loushirley​ | @toribentleyva​ | @naughty-koala07​ | @im-a-muggleborn​ | @scarletmeii​ | @tangerineliqu0r​ | @dopeybubbles​ | @toweavehistory​ | @honestlystop​ | @thinkaboutmara​ 

[le0watch]

Miss Red and Mister Snow

It's a busy day in the bar as usual. Langa weaves through his many patrons, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils with every breath. If he wasn't already used to this overwhelming mixture of scents, he probably would have thrown up by now. But, in his job, this sort of thing is normal.

The same could be said about the uproarious noise, men and women talking to each other about their days and lives. The music from the jazz band playing loud enough to be heard over the chatter, the clinking of ice and the mixing of beverages. Even the stomping of some tenants' feet.

Langa ignores it all in favor of getting to the front of the usual crowd, finding his reserved table. No one but him and the people of his choosing are allowed to sit here, the very best seat in the entire bar.

Tonight a new group of flapper dancers are coming into preform, after months of negotiation on both ends. Neither wants to be found out or linked back to the other, so they had to sit through many, many discussions. They finally found a day and a way for the group to sneak in without being suspected of anything, and currently, they are getting ready in the backstage area.

They should be out any minute now, which is why Langa is already sitting at his table. He crosses one leg over the other, his recently cleaned black shoes shining in the stage light. He'd slicked his hair back today to keep it out of his face, and he's wearing his favorite blue pinstriped suit, with the matching pair of pants to go with it. He'd like to make a good impression on this group in case he likes them, and would like them to partner up with his bar and business. After all, he does not yet have a regular flapper group that attends his bar even though they've been open for half a year now.

All of the best bootlegging bars have a regular dance group and jazz band. And while Langa has the latter, it's been hard to find a dance group to his liking. He's picky like that.

A moment later, and the lights flicker off. The crowd of people fall silent as the stage lights turn on one by one, revealing a small group of flapper dancers, all with their own colored dress. They're all beautiful in their own right.

But Langa can't look away from the lead dancer, who's dress is a bright red with black stripes going down from the shoulders to their stomach, where a large, intricate pattern is formed. If Langa looks closely, he could see that the pattern slightly forms a hibiscus flower. The black lines continue past this flower design, and create flaps at the bottom of the dress. Orange jewels and gold, hanging sequins decorate the black lines of the dress, and the girl’s hair- redder than her dress- is smoothed back into a bobbed, slick style that is so popular with the ladies right now. A golden band of beads is weaved into her hair, which dangles a little on her face.

She's wearing a pair of golden slippers that open on the top and close around the toes. Even these shoes have red jewels on them on the top of the area her toes would be.

She's standing at the front of the stage, one hand holding a microphone close to her lips, while the other is propped on her propped up hip. She’s smiling, a beautiful sight that Langa wants to take a picture of and hand on his wall. He would even find a way to make the picture colored so he could see her in all of her beauty. Her lips are colored with a brig red lipstick to match her dress, and her lashes are fluffed up by mascara.

“Hello everybody!” she says into the mic, her playful tone evident in her voice. She has a similar lilt as other flapper dancers, that sounds amazing in her voice. The crowd is a mixture of calls and wolfish whistles. They must think she's cute, too. “How are y'all doin’ tonight?”

There's more hooting and clapping from the crowd, cigarette smoke making a thin cloud over the audience. Langa can't stop staring at this flapper; she’s gorgeous.

“Well, that is great to hear!” she continues, flashing a bright grin at the crowd that has basically devolved into a pack of animals from her appearance alone. She seems unphased by it- probably used to this reaction. Langa isn't, though, and he wants nothing more than to punch anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way. She shouldn't be treated like a piece of meat. “You all can call me Miss Red!” She then looks over at Langa, and does a small curtesy in his direction. He nearly passes out under her gaze. “And I'd like to thank Mister Snow over here for lettin’ us come in tonight.”

Langa nods his head in response, since he doesn't know what else to do. She merely winks at him and he nearly passes out all over again.

Then, Miss Red claps her hands together and backs up into the line of other dancers. The lights brighten to shine off of the sequins and jewels attached to their dresses, and they start their routine, first with the Charleston before moving into the foxtrot.

Langa tries to watch a few of the other dancers, but his eyes keep drifting back Miss Red’s pretty face. She does the unthinkable after a few minutes of dancing; she starts seeing a song, which the jazz band seems to know, as they play along with her voice. Her singing voice is beautiful and powerful, echoing around the clamor of clapping and howling men:

“Now look me over carefully

All dolled up from A to Z

Guess you wonder where I'm gonna go

I'm excited, I'll admit

And you don't know the half of it

I'm gonna meet the one that I love so

Hey, hey, clear the way

Looks like this is my lucky day

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

I can't be annoyed

Am I happy, am I overjoyed

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

She sings it beautifully, and Langa loves her take on the popular song “I'm Gonna Meet My Sweetie Now”. He may even like it more than the original version, with the way she sings the verses and words, and the way the jazz band is playing as an energetic version of the song.

“Hey-hey-hey, just got through

Manicure and a good shampoo

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

Yes indeedy, just got a brand new hat

Brand new this and a brand new that

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now

When I think of how his arms come stealin'

I'm so nervous, girls, you know the feelin'

I'm just nearly wild

Come on, mother, and save your child

I'm gonna meet my sweetie now!”

The dancers switch to the scandalous shimmy, causing the hollering from the crowd to double. Their dresses flip this way and that, looping around their thighs and almost rising higher than they should as they dance with a partner, pressing so close that the men cheer. Langa feels his face heat up. He doesn't see the shimmy very often, and to see Miss Red going through the steps makes him hot. It's also banned in most places, so you don't see this style as often as say a black bottom or foxtrot.

Then, Miss Red peels from her partner- a tall, dark woman with piercing eyes- and approaches the microphone once more. She catches her breath before finishing the song:

“That's all!”

The jazz music dies down and every flapper in the group bows, before exiting the stage, even as the crowd calls, “Encore! Encore!” Well, it doesn't seem like they're getting an encore. Instead, they get blown kisses and dainty waves of goodbye.

Langa stands up, because now he has to meet these amazing women (Miss Red) and ask them to become regulars. He could pay them handsomely; he has more than enough money to spare from bootlegging. He slips to the backstage, and follows the twisting of the balls until finds the changing room. He doesn't barge in, just in case they're still changing, but does knock.

The door cracks open, revealing Miss Red’s pretty face. She still has her makeup on and hasn't changed yet, but she does have a pair of pants beneath the skirt. When she sees who it is, she offers a shy smile and courtesies for him once more.

“Mister Snow,” she says in greeting. She slips through the crack she'd made in the door to stand with him in the hall, her hands clasped behind her back politely. “What did you think of the show? Hope it was to your liking.” She winks at him, and Langa could feel himself getting hot all over again.

He clears his throat, and nods his head. “It was amazing,” he replies, keeping his dignity about himself. “And you were especially amazing.”

Miss Red chuckles at him, and he loves the sound. He's starting to love everything about her. “Well I'm glad you think so,” she says airily with another small smile. “Now, what did you need, honey dear?”

‘Honey dear’. Langa is going to lose it. If anyone else had called him that, he would have snapped at them. But it sounds so good when it's coming from Miss Red.

“I was wanting to discuss with your manager about you becoming regulars here at my bar,” he explains, and clasps his hands behind his back. She's a tad shorter than she is, but she holds herself well enough that it's as if she is the same height as him. “Where is he?”

“Right here, darling,” Miss Red answers, taking Langa by surprise. He blinks owlishly at her, shocked by her answer. Usually, a flapper group such as this would have a man in charge to arrange things. Maybe the man they’d sent to the meetings had just been a connection, so that it wouldn't trace back to them. There aren't many women who take charge of this sort of thing, if at all. She smirks at him, resting a hand on her hip. “You look shocked.”

“Well- I'll be honest, I am,” Langa replies hesitantly. “But I find it amazing that you manage your own group. Sorry to have implied you were a man at all.”

She laughs a bit louder than before, like afternoon bells chiming. She covers her mouth with one of her hands, and says, “Not to fear. I am both, after all.”

Once more surprised, Langa gawks at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right,” Miss Red says nonchalantly. “I am both a man, and a woman. I can be whatever you'd want me to be.” She winks at him while saying this last part, and even though he’s saying he's a man, he feels his face heating up all over again.

“So… you go by both male and female?” Langa asks slowly, trying to unravel it in his brain.

“That is correct, darling,” Miss Red says in confirmation. “If that is too strange for you, or changes your opinion of our group, then we shall take our leave once we've received our payment.”

He’s going to enter the dressing room, but Langa reaches out and grabs her wrist before thinking. She pauses, and looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“No!” Langa exclaims. “I don't quite yet fully understand it, but my opinion of you and your group has not changed. You are still welcome to become the regular dance group here.”

Miss Red peers at his face, as if trying to see if he's lying. He presses his lipstick painted lips together, before smiling at him once more. That smile is driving Langa insane, just like the rest of her….

“Well then, I'll take your offer up on that,” she says eventually, and slips her hand against his, intertwining their fingers together. Langa’s face becomes so hot he's afraid it's going to melt off. “As long as the pay here is good enough for my girls. We need to make a living, after all.”

“I'll pay you double than the average fee,” Langa replies quickly, and Miss Red’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. He smiles, nodding eagerly. “You have my word that your girls will always be safe and taken care of here. And I always keep my word, Miss Red.”

She hums softly, and then brushes her fingertips along the curve of Langa’s cheekbones. He goes still, her touches gentle and featherlight. She leans in close, their breaths mingling. “Well, I wouldn't mind the view out in our crowd, either,” he says, and Langa swallows heavily at how deep his voice has become. This is scandalous, getting so close to a lady after just meeting her, but he can't resist, especially when she’s the one initiating it. “You do have a pretty face, Mister Snow.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, butterflies forming in his stomach. “How can you say that when you're standing in front of me, hm?” he says, deciding to flirt back. Her eyes widen, and he sees a flush of red bloom across her cheeks. Rex really is his color. And it's starting to become Langa’s favorite. “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“Oh, you're just too much!” she says with laughter, playfully pushing on his chest. He stumbles a little, taken aback by his strength. She covers her mouth once more as she laughs, the red still painting her cheeks. He has freckles, Langa realizes. They just make her appear ever more beautiful. Especially when paired with her shining, honey amber eyes.

Her laughter tapers off, all the while Langa waits patiently for her to finish, softly smiling at her. Miss Red takes notice of this, and snorts softly. “Anyways, Mister Snow, I really must get back to cleaning up. Would you like us to come back tomorrow night, same time?”

“That would be splendid,” Langa replies easily. He catches her hand again, and brings it up to press a kiss to the knuckles. She huffs out a laugh at the action, and when he looks up he’s rolling his eyes. But, that red blush is still on his cheeks, an even darker shade than before. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Red.”

She pauses, before saying, “Do call me Reki, Mister Snow. That's my real name.”

Reki. It fits her.

“Just don't go announcing it everyone you run into, you hear?” she says teasingly, and he quickly nods.

“Of course not, Reki,” he replies. He hesitates for one moment before saying, “And you may call me Langa. Same rules apply.”

Reki smiles at him brightly, taking his breath away all over again. He should ask him out on a date, so he could see her outside of the bar, too. But his jaws lock, words getting stuck in his throat before he could. If Reki was both a man and woman, wouldn't that make him gay? And while he doesn't have a problem against gay people, he's never thought himself to be gay.

“Of course, Langa,” she says, and Langa likes the way he says his name. “Goodnight, darling.”

“And goodnight to you,” he answers, and they nod to one another.

Then, Reki opens the door, a burst of squealing and laughter from the other flappers erupting outside. She giggles, before heading inside, closing the door behind himself.

Langa stares at the door for a few minutes longer, wishing that he could call Reki back and invite him to go out together at some point. Men go out together all the time. It didn't have to be a date.

But his heart is racing too fast, and the thought of asking makes his very breath falter. So instead, he heads back to the bar, ready to start the closing preparations.

[thenovelartist]

Heyoo! I love your headcanons ^-^ Could you write jealous mlqc boys? They are being over-jealous and after then talking to MC, all of them understand they are acted like child and apologize to her. Sorry for my English :D

Thank you so much!

And yes I can write some jealous boys ;D This was a fun little headcanon.

Gavin

He’s lived his life knowing things can disappear in an instant. He knows better than to form attachments of any sort.

But MC has always been the exception.

His attachment to her drives him to be jealous actually quite often. He’s just learned how to tamp it down… A little.

Like when it comes to male figures MC is close with or talks to casually and often, Gavin tends to stand just a little closer to her.

And when it comes to MC choosing to hang out with her girl friends instead of him, he’s also a little put out by that.

He usually realizes he’s being a child, though, and tries not to show it.

MC is more than willing to accommodate and communicate with him, assuring him he’s still number 1 in her life.

Those instances are common in regular life, so MC doesn’t pay it much heed.

It’s the uncommon instances where Gavin’s jealousness is borderline possessiveness that throws her through a loop.

Like when another man actually has the audacity to flirt with her or make a pass at her.

Gavin is there with his hands on her in one way or another (arm around her waist or shoulders, holding her hand, etc.) while practically growling at the other man.

He rarely apologizes for these instances because, usually, the guy needed that hint, but he will apologize if he was too aggressive with her or overstepped her boundaries.

MC can’t stay mad when he gives her the “kicked puppy” look, though. It’s these moments that she realizes just how insecure he can be, and she wants to protect his heart like he protects her.

  Kiro

Kiro works in an industry where he knows relationships of any sort can be not at all what they seem.

He also knows he should trust MC.

But this boy is deeply attached to her, and the ugly feeling of jealousy springs up far more often than he’d like.

Which, generally speaking, gets him into trouble.

Because when he gets jealous, one of three things happen.

One: he becomes very whiny and clingy.

This is when he’s the “least” jealous and just needs a little reaffirmation that he’s still high up on MC’s priorities list.

Usually is sated with some snuggles and a couple kisses. Maybe an “I love you” thrown in there.

Two: he follows her around like a lost puppy dog, sticking close to her and making sure who ever he’s jealous of knows it.

There has been a time he walked off set to do this, and it got him in trouble with the director and Savin. (and MC, who was not amused at the time.)

Three: he will flat out abscond with MC.

Will get him in the most trouble, but this is also when Kiro is the least likely to care. Because if he’s desperate enough steal MC away, his insecurities are at their height, and MC needs to spend some time assuring him that it’s him she loves.

Normally, will apologize a day or two later for causing trouble for MC or doubting her love for him. But never for stealing her away.

MC rarely gets mad because she likes their secret rendezvous, too. ;D

  Victor

Mentally, Victor knows that just as he gets women fawning over him for his looks or position, MC experiences the same with men. And just because they each experience that does not mean that either of them are interested in seeing anyone other than each other.

Again, Victor knows this.

But knowing does not stop the uncomfortable feeling of jealously bubbling up inside him every now and again.

He rarely acts on it because he knows that most of the time, he’s being unreasonable.

But then there are those times when he feels like he needs to step in.

Like when a business man thinks he can get too close.

In these instances, Victor doesn’t do much more than moving to stand by her side and put an arm around her waist or on her back.

That’s usually enough to send a clear message that MC is his and he’s not willing to share.

Once, though, the other man continued flirting with MC, shooting Victor the occasional challenging glance.

And that was all Victor needed to decide to destroy this man one way or another.

Starting with kicking him out of his party.

This was the one time MC could spot Victor’s jealousy a mile away. Firstly, she was shocked that he got so jealous in the first place.

Once it sank in, she wouldn’t let it go, constantly teasing him for it.

Eventually, he will apologize (with pudding) for making a scene.

She’s thankful for the treat, but also is sure to clearly reassure Victor that she loves only him and he needn’t get jealous.

  Lucien

Lucien is the most understanding and least likely to be jealous out of all the boys.

MC works with a lot of people who may or may not show interest in her. That does not mean he feels threatened by them because he is secure in who he is to MC.

There are the times he gently steps in to clear up misunderstandings, like, for example, when someone gets a little too flirty with MC.

If MC doesn’t clear up the understanding, he will do it with a smile and a “have you met my girlfriend/fiancée/wife?” (Whichever is the appropriate title.)

No jealousy on his part in those instances. Maybe a bit of staking his territory, but not jealousy.

That being said, Lucien is not a robot and does experience human emotions, jealousy being no exception.

And when he gets jealous, he gets jealous.

And shameless.

For example, the one time MC was working with a man who constantly trying to get in contact with her.

If it had been a one-time communication thing, Lucien wouldn’t have worried. Clearly it was a co-worker.

But as the days progressed and their constant chatter continued, Lucien’s jealously slowly simmered.

Until the day he met the man in person, then it was a raging fire.

Que wolfish grins, a handshake where Lucien squeezed a little too tightly, and a greeting that included a very clear statement of who he was to MC.

And then not keeping his hands off her the rest of the meeting

As for an apology later…

Please, he won’t apologize. This smooth bastard will sweet talk his way out of it.

And MC’s so wrapped around his finger, she’ll let him get away with it.

…but only this once.

[hood-ex]

Prey to Sentiment

Read on AO3

Batbro Ages:

Dick: 20 Jason: 17 Tim: 13 Damian: 10

The sound of music was the first thing Damian noticed when the passage to the batcave opened. It was an upbeat tune that seemed to pound through the rock and limestone interior of the place. It was so jarringly loud compared to the rest of the manor that he found himself tuning into the lyrics without consciously choosing to. To his confusion, it seemed to be a song about a woman named Rio who enjoyed dancing on the sand.

Damian wanted to plug his ears with cotton to drown out the offending sound, but more than anything, he wanted to know who was blasting music in the cave. Surely his father did not listen to such garbage, nor did he allow it to play while he was working. Within the week Damian had gotten to observe his father, he knew that the man was nearly always silent. Bruce Wayne ate in silence, read in silence, exercised in silence, and patrolled in silence. It only made sense that his workspace would retain his preference for silence as well.

So no, it would be completely out of character for his father to play music in the batcave, which meant that someone else had been down here earlier. Judging by the sudden tenseness in his father’s shoulders, Damian could only guess that the culprit was still lurking around.

The only people Damian could imagine would be down here would be his father’s caped associates. That insufferable alien called Superman or possibly the blabbermouth speedster. Unless… his father was testing him and was planning to have him attacked as some kind of training exercise. Even though it was unlikely, Damian kept his eyes peeled for any sense of danger.

“There are some people I want to introduce you to,” Father said. He began to descend down the staircase, his feet making no sound. Damian followed suit and resisted the temptation to cross his arms over his chest. If there was someone threat worthy down here, he’d rather his hands be free to grab the knife tucked in his pants. He did allow a small scrunch of his nose since there was an unpleasant earthy smell in the cave mixed with a sharp saltiness that Damian couldn’t place.

He scanned beyond his view of his father’s backside and noticed that there was something different about the lowest level of the batcave. Typically, that was the section of the cave where his father kept his jet skis, ski boat, and the submarine. When Damian saw the cave for the first time a week ago, he had briefly looked down and saw that there was just enough seawater inside the cave to keep the vessels afloat. There had also been a large door at the entrance of the lower level that blocked off more ocean water from coming in, though it was obviously more of a device to keep people from entering the cave. The door had been locked tight before, but now it was completely wide open, allowing ocean water to slosh gently against the lower walls of the cave. The saltiness he had detected moments ago made sense now.

“Are you planning on going fishing?” Damian asked. He ended up crossing his arms anyways, hip cocked toward the support of the ridged wall. His father continued heading towards the lower level platform. The platform was only a few feet higher than the top surface of the water, making it easy enough to hop onto the boats. His father made no move to board any of the vessels, rather, he stopped at the edge of the platform and turned to meet Damian’s eyes.

“You’ll have to come down here,” Father said, “They won’t climb up there to meet you.”

Damian pushed off the wall with his shoulder and came down to the lower platform. “Who on earth are you referring to?” His arm nearly brushed his fathers when they finally stood next to each other. “Surely you don’t mean to introduce me to that trident wielding clownfish man.”

For a second it looked like his father was struggling between a glare and a small grin. Damian decided it must be a look of disapproval. People were rarely amused by him.

“No, not Aquaman,” Father said. Oh, of course. That was the clownfish man’s name. “Although somewhat related to him. You’ve met mer people before, haven’t you?”

Damian had, in fact, never met a mer person, let alone multiple of them at the same time. He’d certainly seen them when he was with the League of Assassins. Sometimes he would see them darting through the waves of the ocean, but he mainly saw them when his grandfather brought them in as prisoners.

Regardless, they were beautiful creatures, even though they rarely showed themselves above water. There were laws in place that kept mer people from being hunted like a typical sea animal, but it hadn’t always been that way. Damian supposed that was why the people of the sea were hesitant to make regular appearances outside of their habitat.

“Not officially,” Damian said after a few moments of silence. His eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m about to, aren’t I?” He instantly took a few steps back away from the ledge. His tongue curled, ready to reprimand his father for allowing mer people into the cave. Before he had the chance to do so, his father held up a hand.

“You don’t have to be scared of them. I’ve known each of them for a long time now and they know who I am.”

That only made Damian tense even further to the point where he was practically a replica of a dog with its hackles raised. He couldn’t believe his father had revealed his identity to others. Who were these people that had his father’s trust? Why were they privy to such a private part of his father’s life before Damian himself was? Damian technically knew the reason for the last question, and he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that his father’s affection for the interlopers was likely stronger than his affection for his own son.

His father’s blue eyes watched him with calculated precision and Damian quickly schooled his features. He’d rather have his father think he was nervous instead of pinpoint his insecurity.

“I know things between us have been rough this past week, but try to be civil with them.” They mean a lot to me went unsaid. Damian rolled his eyes before dragging his feet back to his father’s side. He gave a stiff nod.

His father reached up towards the comm in his ear, which was interesting. That meant the mers had a means of communicating with him in the water and vice versa. While Damian was certainly wary of the situation, he had to admit he was a little curious about his father’s “associates.”

“Tim,” his father said into the comm. There was a small pause where this so-called Tim must have responded. “I have Damian with me. You can come inside now. Tell Jason he can’t have any of Alfred’s shrimp for a week unless he disables the music loop.” Then, muttered through clenched teeth as if pained to admit it, he said, “It’s been driving me crazy all morning.”

“Tt.” Damian had been ignoring the music still pounding through the cave up until that point. There had been another terrible song playing for the past three minutes. It went something like, “I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.” It hit a little too close to home for Damian’s liking, and by the way his father was openly scowling, he figured he felt the same. However, it didn’t become an issue because the music abruptly came to a stop. The Jason character must have decided the butler’s food was worth far more than an annoyed Batman.

There wasn’t much indication that the mers had entered the cave other than the water itself taking on a more rippled effect. Seconds later, the water started sloshing more harshly against the walls and platform. Damian lifted his foot just in time to miss a wave of water from soaking his shoe. By the time he dodged a few more wayward splashes, hair and skin were beginning to emerge from the murky depths.

Two dark-haired males then rose up until their arms and chests were exposed to the air, water droplets trickling down their skin. The male with the larger and more muscled torso looked to be older than the slimmer, pale male. Both of their eyes were blue and rid of any irritation that a normal human’s eyes would experience when exposed to seawater. Their hands also had webbing between each finger, though the small white tissue scars covering them suggested that the webbing was not entirely durable. While interesting, Damian was more excited to see the mer’s tails, but so far neither of them had moved far enough out of the water to show a glimpse of them.

His attention was drawn towards the teardrop-shaped obsidian stones that were fastened to each of the mer’s throats by short silver chains. He wondered if they were gifts from his father since the necklaces did not look like the kind of colorful jewelry mers were known to wear.

During the time Damian had taken to carefully observe the two strangers in the water, he realized they were doing the same to him. The more intimidating mer drifted closer until he was leaning his arms against the side of the platform, making Damian take a few steps back. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the knife that Damian had concealed in his pants. How the mer had detected it, Damian had no idea, but it instantly made him feel more guarded.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, and normally Damian would have shrugged it off, but somehow it made it easier to look at the mers without showing his unease over the situation.

His father looked at the larger male. “Damian, this is Jason Todd.” This was said with a pointed glare at the mer, and the mer instantly sported a wolfish grin that displayed his sharp teeth.

Father then motioned to the smaller male. “This is Tim Drake.” Tim gave a hesitant wave, his webbed hand stretching out to full capacity. Father sighed. “Where’s Dick?”

Damian raised a brow, unsure of what that was supposed to mean.

“He got sidetracked,” Drake said, swimming up beside Todd. “A kid from a passing pod snagged his tail between two rocks and broke a few scales. Dick said he was going to show the pod where the mer-medic was. He should be here any second.”

From what Damian remembered, a pod was the mer people’s equivalent to a family unit. They mostly traveled while children in the pod were young before becoming more stationary in one area. From what he could make of their ages, Damian assumed Todd and Drake’s pods must be close by. If that was the case then did their pods also know the identity of Batman? Did they also come into the cave and chat with his father? Once again, Damian couldn’t help but feel like a complete outsider in the situation.

His father started talking to the comm in his ear, apparently demanding to know where the absent mer was located. Damian ignored him in favor of focusing on the mers present. Arms crossed, he stepped forward to the point of nearly stepping on Todd’s fingers.

“My name is Damian Wayne,” he said, chin tipping upwards. “I demand to know your relationship with my father.”

Todd and Drake shared a look with each other.

“You demand to know?” Todd asked, Gotham accent taking Damian by surprise. He gripped the side of the platform harder and pulled his torso further out of the water, intentionally leaning into Damian’s space. “How about I demand you rephrase your question?” Todd didn’t even blink as a water droplet from his hair trickled into his eye.

“There was nothing wrong with the phrasing of my question, bottom dweller,” Damian said, using a term he had heard his grandfather use when referring to mer people.

Jason’s tail, a mixture of black and red, appeared for a split second before coming back down to the water with a loud smack. Water sprayed in multiple directions and a large portion of it drenched Damian’s jeans and shoes. Outraged, Damian stepped on the heel of his right shoe to loosen it. Then, with well practiced aim, he flung the shoe straight into Todd’s smug looking face. Todd’s head snapped back on impact. His arms gave out beneath him, making him sink back into the water. Drake dodged to the side to avoid Todd’s flailing.

Damian heard Drake and his father shout at the same time.

“What the hell!”

“Damian!”

Suddenly, a wet hand shot out of the water and snagged one of Damian’s ankles in a bone crushing grip. He was yanked so hard that he lost his balance and fell on his backside with a startled gasp.

“Unhand me!” he yelled while trying to scramble for purchase on the wet floor. It was no use. He felt another tight squeeze around his ankle, and before he knew it, he was dragged into the disgusting water.

Saltwater immediately stung his eyes. He squeezed them shut and blindly reached towards his ankle to try and dig his nails into Todd’s hands, but the water slowed his momentum. Even kicking became difficult against the water’s resistance. He could feel his body being dragged back and forth through the water, his hair ghosting over his face every other second. Lungs burning, Damian tried to use his hands to propel his torso to the surface of the water, only to have Todd give a harsh tug downwards, keeping him from reclaiming oxygen.

A second passed where Damian genuinely thought his father was going to let this psychotic mer drown him. A heavy feeling of betrayal fell over him and he tried even harder to kick Todd in the face. Clearly, no one was going to save him. He had to save himself. That’s the way it had to be. Just like it always had been with the League of Assassins.

Just as he was about to try reaching for his knife, a high pitched sound vibrated through the water. It sent shivers down Damian’s spine, and for a moment, he thought there was a whale with them in the water. A sound like that was far too similar to the whale songs Damian had seen videos of. But then the biting grip of Jason’s hands disappeared from his ankles. A different set of webbed hands grabbed his wrist, propelling him towards the surface.

Damian reflexively sucked in a large breath as soon as his face was out of the water. He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He tried to open his eyes and immediately shut them again after feeling the sharp sting of salt in them.

Whoever pulled him out of the water had enough sense to keep an arm around his waist. Damian half-heartedly dog paddled back towards the edge of the platform with the arm’s support. Another set of hands, his father’s hands, grabbed him under the armpits and scooped him out onto the platform.

Damian gasped wetly and dragged himself as far from the water as he could with the dead weight of his wet clothes holding him back. He noticed his father’s presence disappear from his side, only to be swapped with another person, supposedly the person who saved him. Vaguely, Damian could hear his father yelling in the distance. It was hard to make out the words with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

The webbed hand returned to his back and gave it a few hard taps to help dispel any water Damian accidentally swallowed. “Go get him a towel and some tap water. He needs to flush out his eyes.” The voice was unfamiliar. There was no doubt that this had to be the other mer, Dick.

“Are you sure he doesn’t need some milk?” Drake asked from somewhere above them. And what? How was Drake possibly above them? He wouldn’t be able to breathe nor would he be able to walk with his tail. He tried to pry his eyes open to look, only to close them with a hiss after feeling how sensitive they were. Dick used his hand to slick Damian’s hair away from his face so more saltwater wouldn’t drip down into it.

“Oh krill,” Dick said, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. “How long have you been waiting to use that reference?”

A bark of laughter echoed in the cave. “Way too long.”

“Should’ve waited longer!” Todd shouted during a pause in his and father’s argument.

“Jason,” Dick warned in barely concealed anger. “Shut it.”

Todd’s loud scoff startled the bats. Damian heard them scatter up above, their flapping wings getting farther away.

“Sure, okay. He insults me and hits me in the face with his steel-toed shoe, and I’m somehow in the wrong for showing him that actions have consequences?”

“Don’t even try to make it seem like that was a teachable moment. He’s just a kid—”

“Don’t treat me as if I’m some imbecile that needs to be handled with kid gloves,” Damian spat, rolling away from Dick’s gentle hand and sitting up on his own. “I’m capable of taking care of myself! I was just about to gut Todd with my knife when you stepped in unnecessarily.” Damian motioned in the direction of Todd’s voice. “I’d kill him right now if I was able to see properly.”

Damian felt his father’s hand close around his bicep. His first instinct was to knock the hand away, angry that people kept grabbing and touching him. First, it had been Todd’s biting grip on his ankle. Then, Dick’s supportive arm around his waist. Now, his father’s tense fingers on his arm.

He scowled. Their touch made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he was neither of those two things. No, Damian Wayne was no one’s victim. No one’s damsel in distress. He was too good for that. The blood running through his veins was proof of that.

“That had better be a joke,” Father said lowly. “I told you when you came here that we don’t kill. Ever.” The cold tone of his voice made Damian want to shrink and curl back up on the floor. Instead, stubborn as ever, he crossed his arms and turned his head in the other direction.

“I have the right to defend myself if he attacks me! If defending myself leads to his death then that hotheaded flounder was asking for it!”

Todd made a high pitched shrieking sound similar to the one Damian had heard in the water. Damian jumped slightly when Dick, who was still sitting right beside him, answered back with a mixture of shrieks and clicks of his own. It sent goosebumps down Damian’s arms. The shrieks didn’t sound as soft or musical out of the water as they had in the water. They were quick, biting, and fueled by anger.

“Ooh, you made mom mad,” Drake snickered, his voice sounding much closer than it was before.

Dick and Todd both clicked in the back of their throats simultaneously, which Damian could only assume was some variation of, “Shut up!”

Damian wondered if his father understood the mer’s heated conversation or if his silence was an indication that he was just as lost as Damian was. As far as Damian knew, translating the mer language did not come easy. Replicating it was even harder, if not impossible due to the different frequencies that could not be heard or replicated by the human body.

“That’s enough!” Father said after what felt like an eternity of nonstop vocalizations, causing the two mers to trail off into silence. Damian could have sworn he heard one of them hiss at one point. “You two need to cool off. Jason, get upstairs. Go help Alfred with dinner.” He paused for a second and then, most likely addressing Dick, said, “You’re drying up like a prune. Go soak for a few minutes.”

There was some mumbling and what sounded like feet pounding up the platform that connected to the top level of the cave. Damian internally cursed at the salt that was still keeping him from opening his eyes. He was desperate to make sense of how it was possible for the mers to be walking around the cave. All of them except Dick, apparently.

“You and Tim got the kid?” Dick asked.

Damian immediately scowled and clenched his fists. That was the second time he’d been called “kid.” Kids were not equals, and worse, they were not capable of much. Damian was the opposite. He would show both his father and these mers that no one was more capable than him. Then they would realize their mistake in referring to him in such a demeaning way.

“I got the water and towel right here,” Drake chimed in somewhere to Damian’s immediate left.

Dick squeaked twice, short and low.

“Huh?” Tim said. “Quit speaking in dialect.”

“Ugh. Forget it.”

Dick’s scales were rough and heavy sounding as they dragged across the floor. Damian wondered if it hurt or if the scales were tough enough to take some damage. His curiosity died as soon as he heard a large splash from behind him. He turned his attention to the remaining mer instead.

“What are you waiting for, Drake? Hand over the water immediately!”

Damian could only imagine the look of bewilderment on the mer’s face as Drake muttered, “Drake? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

[maotranslates]

Chapter 5

Novel: Life Going Wild With Plug-ins 带挂装逼, 最为致命 by Shi Zi Qing 十字卿

PREVIOUS / TABLE OF CONTENTS / NEXT

I got up in the middle of the night to set free a surge of wolfish nature in my heart. I didn’t know what time it was, only that it wasn’t bright outside yet. On the way back to the room, I saw a figure standing in the courtyard, and seeming very familiar, I couldn't help but take a closer look.

　　 The Shadow Guard's eyes were expressionless, he was standing blankly with his head hanging. A long sword was thrown on the ground and the blade was covered with cracks.

　　 I called a few times, but he didn't hear it. I could only step forward and pat his shoulder.

　　 He was very slow to react, practically causing shame to his identity as a martial artist as he blankly turned his head back, but I was shocked: his eyes were red, and he looked like he was about to cry.

　　 "At this time of day, why aren’t you sleeping well, but eating the cold wind here instead?"

　　 The Shadow Guard replied: "This servant has been trained since childhood, practicing the sword at this time every day, and has never slackened."

　　 Yup, the conversation last night was all in vain, and I became somewhat annoyed: "The doctor ordered you to rest, you shouldn’t mess around, don’t train anymore."

　　 "...Indeed, I don’t need to train anymore." He trembled as he bent down, touching the sword, and his tone was full of pain, "...In this life...I’ll never be able to pick up a sword again..."

　　 His surging mood made me too scared to speak out. The people I used to get along with didn't really have any emotional ups and downs, and I had never seen others being so emotional. I didn't know how to comfort him at the moment, so I dumbly squatted next to him and waited for him to finish crying.

　　 After he seemed to calm down a little, he looked up, and his eyes were still intimidating to me, dim and dark: "This servant is already useless, unable to protect Master, I beg Master to grant me death."

"Hey, I can’t I can’t!! If you have any injuries, then just take care of them well. If you don’t have the skills then practice again from the start, why are you saying this nonsense..." I know that even if people in this era are free from illness and disaster, they still inevitably grow old and die, but they actually treat life and death as more ordinary things than we do. Yet this word, I never even dared to touch it: the longer we live, the more cowardly we become.

　　 "This servant does not understand, keeping a useless person like me, what is the point..." He started voicing his grievances again.

"When did you ever become useless!! You can use chopsticks, cook food, wash your face..." I spoke sincerely, praising all of these things one by one, then put my hand on his back and said, "My knowledge level is pretty much like that of a newborn baby, and there are so many things I need to learn, you can treat this as being my companion."

　　 I comforted him for a long time, coaxing him, and stuffed him back into bed and tucked him in, and it wasn’t until then that his expression became a bit more normal. I sighed softly, thinking about his heavily injured body when I first met him, not knowing what calamity he had suffered, while I, a little flower in a greenhouse, still needed him to take care of me. I couldn’t help but feel guilty.

　　

　　 "Right, what's your name?" I finally thought of this matter, "Other people always call you the ‘that follower’ all the time, very disrespectful."

　　 After all, in front of this Creator God, everyone is equal.

　　 The light that had just appeared in his eyes thus sank down again: "People from Nightrunner, never have names… Although I was given a name by my former master, I have already been expelled, and have no right to mention it."

　　 He was depressed again, and I regretted it like I dropped a stone on my own foot, hurriedly saying: "Then I can give you a new name?"

　　He became a bit happier: "Naturally, it is an honor."

　　 It was nice to say, but coming up with a name was another thing entirely, how the hell do I come up with a name when I don’t even have one myself? But my face remained undisturbed, pretending to be calm: "When coming up with your names, are there any rules?"

　　He said: "People from Nightrunner, are usually given the surname Ye.* The name itself can be given as the master pleases."

*Ye = 夜, meaning night

　　 "Okay, I got it. I need to carefully think about this for a while, allow me to consider for a few days." I replied to the topic of discussion without fail, and even wanted to applaud myself in my heart.

　　 The Shadow Guard, obviously in a much better mood, then asked: "May I know Master’s name...?"

　　 "I don't have a name..." I said this half sentence normally, but the Shadow Guard’s face changed, and he returned to his previous deferential stance: "I’m sorry, this servant has overstepped the boundaries..."

"No no no no no no no slow down," I quickly moved to stop him from returning to despair, "I really don't have a name, you can understand it like this, the place I came from is very special, names had no legal effects, so they were gradually abandoned. We all only had serial numbers, no names... But this is truly not very convenient." I rubbed my chin, but couldn't make up any pleasant sounding names at the moment, so I could only say, “How about this, you can give me one."

　　 The Shadow Guard was stunned: “...Where is there such a rule?”

　　 “Just think of it as saving me from misery.” I prudently patted his shoulder.

　　 The Shadow Guard was stunned for a long time, but seeing that I looked solemn, he became serious. He turned his head to think for a while, saying: "This servant doesn’t know anything about Master, and doesn’t know where to start. Asking Master, what ambitions do you have?"

　　 I was at a loss: "I only know that I won’t end up being mediocre."

　　 "Master, are you interested in politics? Or—"

　　 I didn’t have any ideas, so I hastily replied: "Being above ten thousand people, that will do."

He was bewildered and uncertain, but stabilized his mentality after a little while, saying: "Because Master intends to have power over the country, he can take the surname Jun.* Xuanji Yuheng is an instrument of the Emperor to measure the heavens. Master has great ambitions, so this servant dares to choose the name by the two words 'Xuanheng'."

*Jun = 君, meaning noble

　　 Jun Xuanheng...

　　 I absolutely liked this name. Extremely pleased in my mind, I jumped and hugged him in satisfaction.

　　 The Shadow Guard was attacked by me, and being caught off guard, he said in embarrassment, "It's just... a servant naming his master, is really an absurd fantasy,* and if it is talked about in the future, I fear it will insult the master's reputation..."

*absurd fantasy = 天方夜谭 (tian fang ye tan), refers to the classic story “The Arabian Nights” but is used as a metaphor

　　 My eyes lit up: "That’s it!"

　　 Shadow Guard: "Huh??"

　　 "Ye Tan...Ye Tan." I repeated it again, and thought it was both beautiful and memorable, and even followed the Nightrunner naming rules, "You will be called Ye Tan."

　　 When he finally reacted, he also seemed a little excited: "Ye Tan thanks Master for granting this name."

　　 "If this is the case, you actually thought of both names by yourself." After pushing the boat with the current* and getting an easy ride, I still couldn't help starting to feel guilty.

*pushing the boat with the current = 顺水推舟, idiom, to take advantage of the situation for one’s own benefit

　　 "This work is a natural success, accidentally created by a skilled hand, this is also the case..." He quietly said, "Master is really a fascinating person."

　　 I told him that since we both have names now, we can change to calling each other by name, but he was incredibly stubborn and refused to agree in any way.

　　 I decided I could slowly guide him in the future, so I let him go to sleep first. After closing the door and going out, I found that it was already bright daytime.

　　...I heard that you shouldn't sleep after dawn? Can I still sleep...?

PREVIOUS / TABLE OF CONTENTS / NEXT

[nightwingshero]

Claws and Fangs Chapter 3

It had been a couple weeks since the incident in Holland Valley, and I had settled at the station as the newest deputy. I couldn’t exactly complain, I lucked out enough to land Joey Hudson as my partner instead of Pratt. I’ve done more observing than anything as we stayed close to the Henbane and Whitetail region. It made me a bit skittish, wondering what could possibly be in those mountains. Pratt said that when it came to human day-to-day, there was leniency. But that was about it and it didn’t apply to just anyone. I felt there was something just under the surface that I wasn’t aware of, something everyone kept in the shadows.

But we were currently on our way to break up a small dispute. Two conspiracy theorists were causing trouble, and so we were sent out to check up on it. I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going, having only been familiar with the majority of the Henbane region. Climbing up in Hudson’s beat up sheriff’s truck wasn’t something I would’ve ever seen myself doing, and I almost laugh at myself.

“So, where’s this bar again?” I asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

“Holland Valley. Not too far from here. We haven’t really ventured out that way yet, but there’s hardly ever trouble out that way. Less crazies in the valley versus up North.”

“Mmm.” I tap my black-painted fingernails against my leg as I looked out the window. I would beg to defer, but I didn’t say a word, Hudson being unaware of what ran in the darkness of Holland Valley. I was nervous, worried that the second I crossed that damn line, that he would be there, waiting. I knew it was ridiculous, that I was overreacting. But how many wolves would allow a rogue to continue crossing into their territory and show fang without consequences?

It doesn’t take long before we cross the bridge. My wolf stirs, but she stays quiet, understanding that this isn’t the time or place. I do my best to ignore the rush of adrenaline, to fight the urge to just run. It’s exhausting, fighting her more than I ever had before. I felt guilty for it, but I believed it was in our best interest, to keep us both safe.

Hudson turns on the main road, and my eyes widen a bit at the scene as we pull into Fall’s End. Cars are everywhere, as if there’s a celebration going on. People are walking around, the bar looking as if it is overflowing with people. Anxiety begins to set in as I can already tell this is going to be overwhelming. Hudson’s chuckle draws my attention, and I watch as she shakes her head and parks of the side a bit further away from the bar.

“Fucking John Seed.” She muttered with a smirk. “Should have known he’d show his face here.”

“John Seed?” I asked, the name vaguely familiar with me. It felt, and sounded, weird falling from my lips, and Hudson nodded, then motioned ahead of us. I see the back of a dark-haired man standing next to a black mustang. I tisk as I read his personalized license plate reading JSEED. The arrogance behind it was enough to baffle me, my mouth twisting a bit. I almost find it amusing at the trench coat he’s wearing, but I can’t make out much else, other than he’s accompanied by a woman and a male, all laughing together merrily.

“Yeah, him and Adelaide Drubman are good friends. They deal with real estate, him being a lawyer and her being an agent, so they work together often. They’re pretty tight.”

I remembered then that Addie had mentioned something to Rowan and me about him, but I never dug into it. He didn’t really seem relevant or important enough to. “Addie suggested us moving to the Henbane to avoid him.” I replied, throwing her a questioning look.

Hudson laughed. “Yeah, because that’s her territory. She doesn’t let him in easily, she has dibs. She works under the table now and then, for those who need it. We kinda look the other way, because honestly, we know people need it. Now, Holland Valley is different. This is his territory. You gotta go through Johnny for any legal work. He’s by the books. He also does some work with us at the station. Best attorney we have, comes from Atlanta.”

Hudson opens her door as I choke back a scoff. I wondered if this John Seed was aware of who’s territory this really belonged to, and if he would have a change of heart if he were ever to find out. As I open the door, the noise and smells hit me full force. I stumbled, my hand finding the truck as I caught myself. This was why that even though I dreamed of big cities, it would never happen. It was too much for our kind. I hadn’t been used to civilization this loud for a long time, it was almost disorienting.

I gather myself as Hudson began to walk forward, her eyes on the bar. My wolf is pacing, alert and even more curious than she was before. I flinch and fight the impulse to run as far away as I can. Hudson stops in front of the truck and turns back to me with a smile.

“He’s also one hell of an artist. Told that to Rowan when she showed me her wolf tattoo.” I smile at her as she continues. “He does a lot of tattoos for the people here.” She’s talking loudly over the noise at this point, and my ears are suffering for it. It would be hard for some, but any wolf could hear her in that damn bar, and I was standing right next to her. “Rowan also said you guys were like, wolf experts. Well, she is, at least. Being a ranger and all.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I laughed, rolling my eyes at Rowan. She got a kick out of doing little things like that, making references that people didn’t realize had a deeper meaning.

“Anyway,” she motioned to the bar as we began to walk. “Larry Parker is pretty much a rejected science nerd. He believes that aliens are coming for all of us. He’s harmless, and is actually pretty smart, you know, outside of the obsession with things that don’t really exist. Zip Kupka, on the other hand, may be harmless, but he causes more trouble. He has no problem with coming up with conspiracy theories about anyone. He swears that Addie deals ecstasy, Grace Armstrong’s medal is due to some sort of set up, and that John Seed has a fucking sex dungeon.”

I almost choke as I throw her a look. But she just shrugs. “I would believe that about Addie before someone claimed to me that a seemingly high-up attorney was up to that.”

“Rich people pay for crazy stuff. And trust me, John Seed looks like someone who wouldn’t mind.” She threw me a smirk. “But I agree with you. You definitely have a good idea on the kind of person Adelaide Drubman is.”

“She asked me a lot of personal questions when I first met her. It wouldn’t surprise me.” I mumbled and Hudson just shook her head. We draw closer to the bar and I look up, scanning the area, when my eyes catch his.

John Seed was leaning against his car, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a cigarette to his lips as he takes a drag. My breath hitched and I slow slightly as I take him in. He’s gorgeous, that’s obvious. His dark hair is slicked back, his full beard nice and trimmed. I trace the dark lines of his tattoos on his hand as he pulled the cigarette away, a billow of smoke coming out of his nose as his thumb scratches his jawline. I swallow as something stirs in me and I can’t help but feel exposed as his dark blue eyes drill into mine. It’s then he chooses to shoot me a smile, his teeth on display.

I turn away, a blush finding its way to my face as I become flustered. I focus on Hudson as I bite my lip, a shiver running down my spine. Hudson is still talking, talking about Addie, recalling moments she had with her. She turns, shooting me a smirk.

“I told Grace and Addie just the other day that we needed some serious girl power, you know? A lot of women out here have gone soft, it’s nice to have some alpha females around, know what I mean? And I’m telling you, you’re a fucking beast. I remember you mouthing off to Pratt. Little asshole didn’t know what to think.”

I laugh as we step onto the porch throwing her a wolfish grin, my head back in the game. “Girl, you have no idea.”

We step into the bar and I immediately clench my teeth. My wolf is spooked as the crowd laughs and talks, making my eardrums ring. It turns my stomach, and the scent almost forces me to gag. I should’ve eased into this, for the both of us. At the bar, I can see two men in a heated discussion, motioning with their hands. I open my mouth to say something, but my phone goes off. Hudson turns as I pull it out, seeing Rowan’s contact on my screen.

“Looks important. You wanna take that while I deal with Dumb and Dumber?”

I look up at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I got this. Take the call.”

I’m thankful at the excuse to step back outside, but I can feel the slight irritation of Rowan calling me while I was working. I quickly shove my way outside, earning me a glance from the people outside. I take a few steps away from the entrance, still trying to keep distance between me and John Seed’s posse. Once at a safe distance, I answer the call.

“Rowan, what the—”

“Dutch came sniffing around the cabin.” Rowan cut me off, her voice frantic. I freeze, and I can feel my wolf rise fully, her attention undivided and no longer curious of her surroundings. I fight back the growl and scoff.

“Figuratively or literally?”

“I mean, both, I guess?” She sighed on the other side, and I could practically feel the stress from her over the phone. “He came asking questions, saying that he was just checking in to make sure we were settling in okay.”

“He’s checking up on us.”

“Yeah.” She answers, though it wasn’t a question. I huff as I look out at the houses behind the bar, my mind racing. “If it helps, Pratt wasn’t there.”

“Because Pratt is a little bitch.” I clap back immediately. “And I have to work with him, fucking asshole. Way more arrogant than he’s entitled to be, by the way.”

“Yes, and I’m sure he’s very aware of your resentment.”

“Still won’t leave me the fuck alone.” A car starts in the distance and I lean against the building behind me. “Did he say anything specific?”

“Not directly. Just touched a little bit about how he hasn’t seen us in a while. I think it’s clear though. He wants us to join him and commit—”

I don’t hold back the growl this time, something icky crawling under my skin as my gut twists. My wolf is amped up, both of us are, and I had an urge to go for the old man’s throat. “I’m not committing to someone who claims to be something they’re not. He has no claim to us, and he never fucking will. His right hand is that little arrogant errand boy of his—”

“We’ve been here long enough, Wren. There’s an alpha in the east, but I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up without it turning into something else.”

“He can’t force us to join, Rowan. And if worst comes to worst, we can leave. I know you don’t want to,” my wolf whines and I flinch, because I know she doesn’t want to leave either. “But it might have to be an option we consider.” Rowan goes quiet, absorbing everything. “Do you need me to come home?”

“No, he’s already gone.”

I play with the buttons on my deputy shirt and I bite my lip. “Call Adelaide, invite her over for dinner or something. Don’t leave yourself exposed and do something to occupy your time until I get back. We can talk more about it then.”

She agreed easily, both of us failing to find anything else to say in the moment as we hang up. My hand dropped to my side as I lean my head back against the wall. I try to take a calming breath, but I’m antsy. I exhale heavily and shove the phone in my back pocket before I push myself off the wall. I start to make my way back towards the front, when his voice calls out to me.

“You seem oh-so familiar, darling.” My head whipped around, my eyes finding John Seed’s as he smirks at me. He is still leaned against his car as he flicks his cigarette down, grinding it into the gravel and pavement with his black boot, his gaze cast downward. I go to sneer at him, no matter how cute, he isn’t allowed to speak to me that way. I take a step forward, the words on my tongue when it hits me. The blood drains from my face, my fight going right along with it. His smirk is more wolfish as he watches realization hit me like a freight chain, and he shows just the slightest bit of fang as his honey voice rings over the crowded noise in the bar behind me. “We’ve met before, haven’t we, dear? Though, it was under…. less pleasant circumstances, if I recall correctly.”

His scent is heavy and so fucking obvious now, and I kick myself for not noticing it before. It’s his territory, of course his scent is everywhere, but the longer I stand there, the more potent it becomes. I shift, putting weight on my back foot, and he moves with me as if we were tethered together. Anyone passing by would think that he was calm, relaxed, and completely at ease, but I knew better. His muscles were tense and ready, his eyes sharp, nothing escaping him. I could feel it rolling off him in waves, the dominance and authority. My heart raced and I knew he could hear it pound loudly. The absolute power of him is overwhelming, and if I run, I know he won’t let me get away this time. Not until he was ready for me to go.

“You.” I breathed and his smile widened. He pushed away from the car, standing at his full height as his hands tuck themselves in his pockets. It’s fitting for him, the sandalwood scent that has overwhelmed my space and the wolf underneath. It was all just so…him. It was on odd feeling, seeing the connection, something I had never considered before now. My eyes rake down his body, fully taking in the waistcoat and blue dress shirt. The lines of his chest that is on display from the way he left some buttons undone, the swing of a key on a chord around his neck almost hypnotizing. The feeling in my stomach returns, twisting and his eyes dance as I meet his gaze once more.

“Yes, me.” He takes a step forward, his eyes watching me as he stalks me. I fight the urge to cower, my wolf rising to the challenge. “I believe I can recall saving your life.”

“I remember being rudely attacked by your pack member.” My tongue is sharp, faster than my brain at times, and I wait in horror at his reaction, but he just laughs.

“And I remember someone showing blatant disrespect from the safety of the Henbane shortly after.”

“I could show you now, perhaps that would bring you some peace.” I take a bold step forward, the blood in my veins humming and my skin tingling. Rowan was right, perhaps. It was him that was causing such a shift in me, making me more aggressive and bolder. It was going to get me killed if I didn’t watch myself, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know how to.

“Now wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” he replied lowly. “You are…” He tilts his head, breathing in deeply as his eyes close. It’s a couple of seconds before he sighs out heavily, his eyes snapping open to meet my gaze. “Magnificent.”

My wolf is intrigued, and completely swept up in everything this male is and what he embodies. I’m stunned by him, not knowing how to react. I’ve never had a male react this way to me before, and my mind was trying to reevaluate, desperately trying to cling to anything I could use as a defense, to raise my guard even higher, because he was passing them with ease.

“So, I’ve been told.” The lie is smooth off my tongue, my wit and confidence coming to me the best it can with my wolf acting like a lovesick puppy, desperate for the alpha’s attention and affection. She was practically glowing under his praise.

He laughs, a dark mockery there that has the hair on the back of my neck on end. “Yes, well from what I can smell, I’m sure you have. Pratt, right?” He tilts his head, a clicking of his tongue in disapproval a knock on my nerves. “Oh darling, to let that male between your legs…”

“Fuck you.” I snarl, my wolf immediately rising to the surface, immediately offended by his crass implication. But deep down, she’s hurt by his show of disrespect. She wanted to be enough for the only male she had seen as worthy. I’m shell shocked by it as it hits me, and I use my anger to hide it. He flashes his teeth, and I can see what’s just beneath his surface.

“When and where, sweetheart? Because I have no problem with bending you over my car and having you right here.” His snarl is deep and rugged, and it causes a shiver down my spine. I’m shaking with anger and something else I can’t place.

“Dutch warned me about you.” I snapped, desperate to hurt him the way he had hurt us. “I should have listened.”

His brows pull together as he scoffs. “You think you should listen to a washed-up mutt who believes he deserves or has earned the title alpha?” John taunts. “My brothers and I came here, showed his people true leadership.”

I take a step back, shocked. “Brothers?” I breathed out.

“Yes.” He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I have two brothers. One to the North and the other who has graciously allowed two unmated rogue females to live in his territory.” I felt like ground was spinning beneath my feet as he continues. “You think I’m not aware of what he’s doing? What that pup is trying to do? Watch your back—”

“Or what?” I snap. “You’ll do to me what you did to his niece, Jess Black?”

He stops, a look of pure confusion crossing his beautiful features, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You think I…we did that to her? Is that what he said?”

I swallow before I continue. “That’s what…that’s what Pratt implied, he didn’t come out and say it, but he warned me that that was what would happen if I crossed the border.”

“And yet you crossed anyway.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes before throwing me a look. “Don’t believe everything they tell you. They’re offering you a place in this poor-excuse of a pack they’re getting together. To believe that we’re not aware of the uprising they’re planning is foolish. But no, darling, as savage as I or Jacob can be, we aren’t the ones that marred that poor girl’s face. He did.”

I scoff. “I don’t believe you. Why would he do that to his own niece?”

“Why indeed.” He replied with a mere shrug. “But I think you’re starting to see it. Dutch is…known to sometimes make unexpected house calls. I’m sure that was just out of the concern for your safety. Although, I would personally recommend the good company of my dear friend, Adelaide. Sounds like you two are already well acquainted.”

I inhale sharply and clench my fists. He heard everything, which I can’t say I was surprised. Alphas’ senses were always more heightened than other wolves, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to use it against me. “You don’t know anything.”

He takes another step forward, towering over me as his eyes narrowed. “I know more than you think. Heed my warning, dear, because you might not hear it from anyone else. Like I said, watch your back.”

“Is that a threat?” I shot out, my chin jutting out in defiance. He just shook his head.

“Why would I threaten you? Because you’re a rogue? Darling, most of the members in our packs are former rogues banded together looking for a home. That means nothing to me. I have nothing to gain from this.”

“Other than control, right?” My question makes his brows furrow, and suddenly I feel exposed as his eyes drill into me, but I push through it. “That’s what every male wants. Absolute control—”

“Over what? You? Is that what you’re so afraid of?” He asked, his voice so soft its almost a caress against my skin. “It is, isn’t it?” I’m the one that’s confused now, because I don’t know how we got to this, I don’t know if or how he steered the conversation in this direction. I try to backpedal, but he doesn’t give me the opportunity. “Being an unmated female can be dangerous, but I’m not here to force anything on you. I’m not making you choose sides, because when you come to me, I want you to do it on your free will. I want you to choose to say yes.” He brings a finger up to lightly trace my jawline before angling my chin up, our faces inches apart. “You don’t like me, that’s fine. But I’m not here to threaten you or to take your life, I’m here to give it to you. I’m not here to own you, and honestly, I don’t think anyone could if they tried. What I’m telling you is to stay close to your true allies and know them well. That if you’re going to choose a pack, make sure it’s the right one, because there may be no going back. My advice is that you stick close to Adelaide, at least the witch knows what she’s doing over there.”

I make a twisted face at him. “That’s awfully rude, especially considering that you’re supposed to be close friends.”

He laughed with a shake of his head. “You have no idea, do you?”

“What--?”

“Hey, Rookie!” Hudson called and I could hear the door slam. We both pull away, John taking a few steps back and his hands returning to his pockets as he rocks back on his heels at complete ease. I couldn’t say the same. I was scattered, my skin buzzing and my wolf just as confused. It was as if I were watching a ping pong battle, trying to keep up with the moods of John Seed. Hudson walked up with a smirk.

“Deputy Hudson.” John greeted her with a smooth smile, his voice nothing but a soft, honey eloquence, as if we had been talking about nothing but the weather and becoming fast friends. “A pleasure as always.”

“I’m sure it is.” Hudson smirked before eyeing me. “I see you’ve met our new addition, Wren Blake.” I have to fight the urge to flinch as John’s eyes flicker to me one more time before returning his attention to Hudson. I wanted to avoid giving him any information about me, but part of me felt that it wouldn’t have mattered. My last name was on my shirt, and he seemed resourceful enough. If he wanted it, he would get it.

“I did. Lucky for you to have such a pleasant partner.” He throws me a smile and I hate myself for the blush across my cheeks and the stutter of my heart. Damn him. Damn him to hell. “Much better than the utter fool you have running around over there.”

Hudson snorted with a roll of her eyes. “You’re telling me. Pratt is annoying as hell. Good to have some good company for a change.” I’m quiet as they continue, just listening to their conversation. I almost expected her to mouth off to him, just like she did with Pratt because he tried to pull the ‘alpha male’ on her. But she doesn’t, even though I can feel his confidence and authority come off him in waves, almost a superiority that Hudson didn’t seem to react negatively towards. She laughs with a shake of her head, her hand slapping against his arm in a friendly manner, but my wolf doesn’t like it.

I feel it, the rage boiling inside as the jealous starts to spread quickly through my veins. It’s not mine, it’s hers. And I’m fighting to keep myself from showing fang and growling at Hudson in warning. It’s almost suffocating, the need to tell her to back the fuck off and the panic that’s rising in me to stay in control. Hudson turns to answer a call on her radio as John’s eyes pierce me, shock that’s immediately replaced with concern. I don’t know what this is, humans had never forced a reaction out of me like this. So close to shifting, I’m trying to focus.

“Breathe.” It’s a mere whisper, but I hear his voice loud and clear. I cling to it, desperate for anything to anchor me down before I lost it. I’m scared, and I hate him because ever since I’ve met him, ever since I ran into his godforsaken scent, I’ve been out of sorts. I wanted to cry and scream, anything to release what was building up. He moves while Hudson talks, grabbing my wrist and squeezing until he has my attention. “Breathe. Relax. You have to stay in control. You’re okay, focus on me.” My immediate response would be to push him away, to scoff and tell him not to touch me. But my skin is warm where he’s touching it and I’m breathing him in with every breath I take, that I can’t help the pull I feel.

I also feel the pressure, the surge of authority from his wolf to keep me in check, the use of his dominance forcing my wolf back down. It’s a bitter taste in my mouth that’s making my face twist as I realize the power he has. How easy it is for him to make me bend by the sheer will of it. I flinch back, my wrist pulling from his grasp as I look away and take a step back. I throw him a glare as he straightens, his face now a mask I don’t recognize.

“Alright, we gotta head out. Wren, you ready?”

I jump and look at her as she turns to me with a smile. I gave her a hesitant smile in return, forcing everything down. “Yeah, whenever you are.”

“Cool, let’s go.” She turned to John with a wave. “I’ll see you later, Seed. Stay out of trouble.”

He catches my gaze. “No promises.” His voice is low, and contrary to his words, his eyes held a promise that sent a shiver down my spine as we walked away.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: Guess Who's Back

Extreme thirst alert… NSFW, mature, explicit, all of that. 😈🤷🏽‍♀️ Also, fair warning if guys calling themselves daddy isn't your thing. (I had 90s Robert in mind personally, but choose your own Robert adventure. 😘😉)

This story WOULD NOT let me go yesterday. I suffered dearly for you all at the hands of fantasy dom Robert. 😜 Read at your own risk. That's how I feel, anyway. 😬

Shout out to @callmethehunter for the regroup at the end. It helped tremendously for me to let this sit overnight. ❤️❤️❤️

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

You're in need of some relaxation and have made yourself comfortable in the bathroom. You are immersed in a tub of hot, rose-scented water. Your favorite soft music is playing, and a bottle of wine and a full glass wait nearby.

You're reading an erotic novel. The evening is incredibly sensual and satisfying. But you realize one thing is missing: Robert.

You sigh as you think of him, and your body heats and pulses as though he's nearby. But he's been out with friends all day.

You drink some more and think about his hands warming your shoulders, awakening the erogenous zone of your breasts, dousing the fire inside of you with thrust after thrust of his cock.

You can't take it. You put down the book. Your hands start to take the trip you just imagined, and your body springs to life. The oils in the water, and your excitement, make it easy for you to do what needs to be done. You massage your clit slowly, deeply.

Your back stiffens and your breath hitches by the time your fingers plunge slowly inside of you. You can't help but moan.

It seems your sensual sounds are a dog whistle of sorts for Robert, who slowly opens the door and stares as you stop and your eyes dare him to say something.

The wolfish grin on his face and glint in his eyes start the conversation. "Daddy's home, dear," he murmurs moments later, as he braces his hands on the side of the tub and grazes your lips with his. It's just enough to further stoke the white-hot fires of lust inside of you.

You remember what happened the last time he called himself daddy. You know you can expect more of the same tonight. The wanton bravado you displayed seconds earlier rapidly disappears.

"It seems I'm not a moment too soon, hmm? I just got in the door and heard our song playing. I had to investigate. And I'm so glad I did…"

Robert motions for you to get out of the tub, and he dries you with one of the Egyptian cotton towels he insisted on buying. You're glad for his strong opinion of them, as the soft fabric wicks away the bathwater with tantalizing slowness under the direction of his expert hands.

He makes you surrender to his hungry kiss while you're still bundled up in the towel. "I think I know what you need, darlin'." He unwraps the towel and fondles and kisses all over your body until you see stars.

"Get on the bed," he whispers roughly in your ear, while giving your ass a squeeze.

Your legs are weak, but you make it to the bedroom somehow. You sit in the middle of the bed and wait for what comes next.

Robert has turned up the music louder and has joined you. He's naked and exquisitely hard. He has a bottle of body oil in his hand, and he sets it on the floor. He climbs on the bed and crawls over you, making you lie down.

He kisses you and fingers you roughly, knowing you're beyond ready. You arch into his strong, swift movements and wail with abandon.

Soon after he gives you the release you've been craving. "The first one's free," he informs the panting, feverish mess of you on the bed. "You'll have to wait for the rest... On your stomach, love."

The soul-deep need that you've been feeling has only been satisfied a little, but you have no choice but to comply.

Next comes a massage with the body oil, the same bottle that you used in your bath. Robert works a copious amount of oil into your back and your thighs, then kneads it into your plump ass while making your cheeks gape and the lips of your core part in the process. The sensation of being opened that way has made you lose any modicum of control you had left. You raise your stomach from the bed and arch in hopes that he might finger your wetness again, but your efforts are met with a stinging slap to your ass.

Robert clicks his tongue in a chiding noise. "We're only halfway there, girl. Not yet. Turn over," he rasps in your ear.

You're optimistic that release is on the way, but also nervous as to what will happen before you get there.

Robert starts oiling your feet and then treats your legs to long, sensual strokes of his large hands. You're not surprised that he has bypassed your core, but you are still overcome with emotion as the tension keeps building. You moan and buck your hips, sending a clear message that Robert is just as clearly ignoring.

He glides his hands up your tummy and to the sides of your breasts, devilishly disallowing another chance for healing from him. Your moans do not cease.

His fingers roam your neck with feather lightness, and you know that he has begun his full-press tease of you--he knows this kind of touch drives you crazy.

He is inches away from your face now, having crawled up your body. His cock is inches away from your opening. You thrust toward him again, and he lowers himself just enough to ease his tip across the slick excitement that has surged from your engorged lips.

You grind your hips upward, desperate to catch more of that whisper of sensation from him. You also grab his face and press your tongue to his lips. He is feeling generous and grants you entry inside of his mouth, where he starts gently sucking on your tongue.

Just as fast, Robert has backed off again, back to the massage. Your world shifts to a frenzy of desperation. This time, his hands make themselves at home on your breasts, tickling them, kneading them, pinching your nipples to your utter distraction.

You cry out for his mouth, his fingers, his cock, anything of his to be inside of you. He silences you with an invasive kiss and the searing lashes of his tongue. But he and you both know that it's not enough.

At last, he has mercy on you, dipping his cock in the shallow end of your heated core. You clamp your legs around him and grab at his ass. Suddenly, there is no resistance, only almost more dick than you can handle, as he plunges his hefty manhood inside of you.

He smiles wickedly as you close your eyes tightly and your uncontrollable keening pierces the air.

"I thought that was what you wanted? When you were alone in the tub? I heard your moans…"

He sucks sharply on your neck while you claw at his back. "I know you want it… I know you can handle it... Can't you? Can't you, sweet girl?" He hisses in your ear and grasps your shoulders as he hastens his thrusting.

The unspeakable sensations Robert's giving you far surpass the limits of your fantasies back in the tub. For that reason, you meet his bruising pace with gusto.

He grunts and snarls, and the slap of your sweat-drenched bodies colliding is another kind of music to your ears. You feel insatiable tonight, and this reckless fucking is your best shot at being satisfied.

Tonight's primal interchange is like nothing you've felt before with Robert, not even like the last time he reveled in dominating you. He's drilling you like his masculinity is on the line. You are encouraging him to do anything but hold back.

He draws another angry love bite just above your collarbone, and then he firmly grasps your neck, his one hand effortlessly becoming a fearsome vise. "I've got one last treat for you, girl," he says, his voice so laden with sex and menace that you barely recognize it as his. "Stand."

Your heart is beating like you've run a marathon. Your pussy is pulsing wildly, from the phantom sensations of his recently departed cock, as well as thoughts of your need for him to finish you savagely.

You stand and bend over the bed for Robert, arching your back for his entry. You preemptively clutch the sheets, but you know there's no security blanket in the world to protect you from what's about to happen. And you don't mind one bit. You welcome it, in fact.

With the way he plunges inside of you with no warning and digs his fingernails into your hips, you know he is up to the challenge. As you scream and brace yourself for each unforgiving, rapid thrust, you realize that he's always up to this particular challenge. It's just that he normally keeps this shockingly untamed side of him in some dark corner, chained somewhere in the depths of his appetite. Robert continues to plow into you and you become acutely aware that a strong orgasm is brewing. You can't contain the sounds of your excitement.

It only takes a few more well-timed thrusts of his to unlock a breathtakingly celestial climax. You howl as the powerful feeling is birthed inside of you. Overwhelmed and exhausted, the last thing you'll feel for a while is the violent coursing of Robert's seed soon after you come.

Neither of you can move an inch from where you've collapsed onto the bed. You both surrender to the choppy waves of orgasm that are now gradually subsiding.

Still too enraptured to move, your mind plays back what just happened. After tonight, you'll know this side of him is somewhere lurking behind every smile, every gossamer kiss, every light touch of his fingertips worshipping your skin. Only you'll never know when daddy will come back again.

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

The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

[tenroseforeverandever]

Wonderful Tonight - Chapter 1

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Original Character, Wilkins from Vitex Patents

Tags: hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; love; Pete’s World; sexual content; drunkenness; drunken confessions; swearing; songfic

Story Summary:

On the first anniversary of the instantaneous biological metacrisis that created him, the same day he and Rose had been unceremoniously dumped in Pete’s World, the Doctor can think of a few gazillion different ways he would prefer to spend the evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala is not one of them. All he truly wants is to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with Rose. But when Rose doesn’t acknowledge the significance of the date, the Doctor finds the strain and rejection he has worked so hard to overcome surfacing again, leaving him feeling vulnerable and insecure.

A song fic, based on the song Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.

Notes:

This story has been in the works since Christmas and was intended to be finished by Tentoosday in February. LOLOLOLOL So, right on schedule for me, then!

Written for @doctorroseprompts‘s Tentoosday event.

Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula​ who have taken the time out of their very busy schedules to look this story over for me.

Four Chapters, posting on Wednesdays

Read also at: AO3; Teaspoon; FF

Summary, Chapter 1:

Feeling out of sorts on the first anniversary of being left in Pete’s world with Rose, the Doctor is worried Jackie will blame him if they show up late to the Annual Vitex Gala, and frustrated that Rose isn’t ready to leave when he is.

--oOo--

It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair

And then she asks me, “Do I look all right?”

And I say, "Yes, you look wonderful tonight.”

The Doctor stood in the front hall of the little flat, peering at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He ran a tongue over his teeth, and tilting his head from side to side, critically assessed the controlled chaos that was his hair. Giving his fringe a final tweak, he stepped back and swivelled back and forth, his lip curling at the sight of the tuxedo. Well, at least his feet would be comfortable in the black and white Chucks he’d procured specifically for the occasion. After the last party Jackie had hosted, his feet had been aching for days, blistered and cramped by the uncomfortable leather dress shoes she’d insisted he wear.

Nope! Never again!

And especially not tonight of all nights. The day of his… weeeell, his first-ish birthday, he supposed, give or take the millennium’s worth of knowledge packed into his brain. He could think of a few gazillion different ways he would have preferred to spend this evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala was not one of them. The only thing that could possibly make it tolerable was the fact that he would be attending said gala with one Rose Tyler by his side.

One Rose Tyler who was distinctly not in the front hall, ready to go…

“Roooo-ooose! We’re going to be late!” He sent a little burst of annoyance along their bond.

He was usually the one who kept her waiting, primping his hair to untamed perfection. It was her own fault, really. Afterall, it was she who’d found a jar of Pompogix’s Hair Pomade (precisely as brilliant as the stuff he used to use in the Prime Universe). He could hardly be blamed for wanting to make good use of it. You couldn’t rush perfection.

Except in Rose’s case… she always looked perfect. Therefore, he reckoned, logically, there was no reason for her not to be ready to go.

He shuffled from foot to foot as he peered down the hallway to the bedroom. “C’mon, Rose! You know who Jackie’ll blame if we’re late. Me! I’m still recovering from the slap she gave me two bodies ago. I don’t fancy another one, ta!”

Rose’s head popped out from the bedroom doorway, a towel still wrapped around her hair, and her face devoid of make-up. Utterly gorgeous, but definitely not even remotely close to being ready for the gala.

“Blimey, the paps’ll have a field day with shots of you in that get-up.”

“Yeah, ta for that.” Her frosty reply was accompanied by the equivalent of a growl vibrating a warning in his mind and a dangerous little crease forming over the bridge of her nose. She grumbled as she disappeared back into the bedroom, but a few seconds later she called out, “Doctor! I need your help! Can you c’m’ere?”

She seemed a little flustered (as well she should, given the time). He couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to help. Nevertheless, he followed the sound of her voice into the bedroom and found her dressed only in knickers, sheer thigh-high stockings, and the towel on her head, poring over three gowns spread out on the bed before her. The sight of her topless might have been more enticing if he hadn’t been so frustrated.

“I can’t decide which dress to wear.”

“What the hell does it matter? You’ll look beautiful no matter what. Wear a bin bag if you like. Just pick something and let’s get a move on, before Jackie has my head for the centrepiece on the buffet.”

She huffed. “So glad I have you, then!”

“Oh, all right,” he relented, quite sure nothing good would come of him offering his opinion. He looked carefully at the three options, considering the pros and cons of each. “Wear the green one. It’s a festive colour and it’s sparkly. I quite like sparkly.”

“The green one? Really? Do you think so?” Rose screwed up her face, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “I kinda thought the sparkles were a bit naff, to be honest.”

“I knew it!” he growled through gritted teeth. He arched a judgmental eyebrow. “Why did you bother asking me my opinion? Is it some kind of test? A trap? A psychological experiment, perhaps? Hmmm?”

“Blimey, Doctor! Overreacting a bit, yeah?” Rose averted her eyes from him, glancing over the dresses again.

“Nope! I think you’ll find my response was perfectly calibrated to serve the situation at hand. You asked me for my input – which I gave quite willingly – and then, without a second’s consideration, you rejected my opinion out of hand. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Her hands flew to her waist as she turned to face him, a fierce, wolfish spark in her eyes. Her bare breasts jiggled temptingly, and suddenly any frustration was pushed to the back of his mind and he found himself forced to tamp down his body’s responses. Now was not the time for that sort of distraction.

“Oi! Eyes up here!” she snapped with a sharp tweak of their bond. (So, definitely not the time…)

His irritation wriggled back to the forefront, and with his libido conquered, he was able to retrace his earlier train of thought. “It wouldn’t matter what dress I’d selected; you’d have had some excuse not to choose it.” Oh, it felt quite satisfying to get another dig in.

“That’s not true.” Hurt transformed Rose’s face, and she placed a soft hand on his arm. Her love and sadness flooded through him. “I value your opinion, Doctor. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

As her lovely, soft, kissable lower lip wobbled, guilt gushed through him. He sighed. Despite his better judgement, he found himself spouting out more words of gala-gown wisdom. “How about the black one, eh, Rose? Classic! You can never go wrong with a black dress for a formal occasion.”

“Hmmmm… but black’s so dull. I mean it’s a beautiful dress, but it’s nearly Christmas, yeah?”

The Doctor gaped at her in stunned silence for a few charged ticks, then he threw his hands in the air. “I give up! I can’t win! Tell you what: I’ll be waiting in the lounge, planning my funeral. Jackie can throw another party to celebrate the occasion, and you’ll be able to wear the black dress to that.” He stalked away, ignoring Rose’s incoherent squeaks of outrage.

He needed to calm down. He was on edge and was letting little things get to him. He muffled his telepathic connection with Rose. Bombarding one another with negative emotions would be nothing but hurtful.  All he had truly wanted was to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with her. This day held special significance for him.

That fact, in and of itself, came as a shock.

Never before had he bothered to observe the linear progression of his life; he’d never given it any thought. Even though he knew time progressed in a distinctly non-linear, wibbly-wobbly fashion, he had to face the fact that his time would now have a distinct end; there would be no more cheating death. Observing the passing years, taking time to reflect on the successes and challenges of the past and his aspirations for the future, had suddenly become something of the utmost importance. He wanted to celebrate the love he and Rose shared and how hard they had both worked over the past year to overcome the strain and rejection of being unceremoniously dumped in Pete’s World.

Instead, he once again felt redundant, useless… vulnerable, the unsettling image of Rose walking away from him at Bad Wolf Bay, rejecting him as he tried to win her favour, playing on auto-repeat in his mind.

The last thing he wanted to do was parade around at the Vitex Gala, hobnobbing and exchanging vapid small talk with vacuous socialites and tedious politicians.

He wandered into the kitchen. A nice cuppa was what he needed. The brilliant effects of the superheated infusion of free-radicals and tannins never failed to soothe him. A good, stiff drink would have been marvelous as well, but he’d learned the hard way, this new, more-human body was not very good at regulating the effects of excessive alcohol consumption. He’d be drinking plenty at the gala, later (if they ever got there); he needed to be careful not to overdo it. No, for the time being, tea would be just perfect.

He filled Rose’s mug as well, adding the perfect amount of milk (just a splash) and honey (a little, to cut the bitterness). She had her own demons to face on this particular day. Although… come to think of it, she hadn’t mentioned it, either the day – his birthday (that hurt a bit), or the demons – being abandoned by the other Doctor and, in turn, abandoning… him, the metacrisis (at least, initially). There were more closed doors in her mind than normal, but she hadn’t even given any overt hints of any anxiety through their bond. But even if she wasn’t worried, he still thought she would probably appreciate the gesture of the warm comforting beverage and it would give him a chance to apologize for his “overreacting”, however justified it might have been.

He returned to the bedroom and leaned against the doorjamb, mugs in hand, silently watching Rose as she sat at her little vanity, still in a semi-dressed state (although her hair was loose and dry now), carefully applying the finishing touches to her make-up. Analysing her reflection, she dabbed stray traces of crimson lipstick from the corners of her voluptuous mouth, then smoothed the concealer under her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her hairbrush, and pulled it through the soft tangles of her long, blonde hair. She’d allowed it to grow over the past year and it now reached almost halfway down her back. The doctor loved the silken feel of it between his fingers, loved the way it tumbled around his face when she rode him to their mutual bliss.

And, oh, that train of thought was no more helpful now than it had been earlier, but unable to resist the temptation, he stepped forward into the room. “Here, let me.” He took a gulp from his mug before setting both mugs on the vanity. He plucked the brush from Rose’s hand.  “Have a cuppa,” he offered as he gathered her hair in his hands and brushed out the ends at the back where she couldn’t reach.

“Oh, a cuppa would go down a treat. But I can’t. Just put on my lippie, yeah.”

Rebuffed again, he held his tongue. Rose hadn’t meant to be hurtful, but it seemed he just couldn’t do anything right. Although, it wasn’t like he was doing anything especially wrong... just a bit off-target, perhaps. He decided there wasn’t anything to be gained by making a fuss, but he didn’t trust his stupid gob to behave. It would be safer to just leave her to her grooming. He set the brush down firmly on the vanity and, pointedly removing her tea mug, moved toward the door.

“Doctor…?”

He turned back toward her, helpless to resist the sway she held over him. She’d always been his weakness… and his strength. She completed him.

“I was hopin’ you could braid my hair for me...”

“No doubt I could…” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Would you? Please? Somethin’ nice and soft. You always make it look nice, yeah.”

“Will you hurry and get dressed if I do?”

“Oh, we’re not that late!”

He set her mug down again. “Not your life on the line, is it?” he snarked, but he was unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips.

As he gathered her hair in his hands, parting it with expert strokes of his fingers, she sighed her contentment and met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I love you,” she whispered.

He opened their bond, allowing his love to mingle with hers. “My precious girl, I love you too… but I’d like to be around for many more years to repeat that sentiment.” He granted her a teasing frown, and she responded with a cheeky kiss blown at his reflection. When he rolled his eyes, she chuckled and beamed at him, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her smile.

In minutes he had completed styling her hair, a long, soft braid that meandered down the back of her head. “It just needs… Oh, I know! You get your dress on, and I’ll be back with the finishing touches in two shakes.”

Leaving a bemused Rose in his wake, he rushed out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He had purchased a dozen red roses, intending to present them to her before leaving the flat that evening, but decided they would be put to much better use tucked into her golden plaits. He scrounged in the drawers for the kitchen shears and snipped several of the roses from their stems. He tucked one into the lapel of his jacket (he and Rose would coordinate) and gathered the rest of them up.

When he returned to the bedroom, he was stopped short (nearly spilling the roses from the cradle of his hands) at the sight before him: Rose, resplendent in a deep-red, satin gown. He licked his lips at the sight of her: the v-neck, off-the-shoulder bodice displayed just enough of the soft, round curves of her breasts; and the flowing, floor-length skirt sported a thigh-high slit that exposed the full length of a tawny, toned leg. She was absolutely captivating.

Shaking himself out of his daze, the Doctor swept behind her, beginning his task of nestling the flowers into her tresses. He couldn’t resist planting soft kisses to her bare shoulders and neck as he worked, and she encouraged him with soft hums, as each touch of his lips sent a surge of his arousal along their bond. With one last rose tucked into her braids, he placed a final kiss behind her ear and reluctantly pulled away from her.

“All done. Are you ready, then?”

“Almost…” She stepped back to the vanity and picked up the earrings lying there. She turned to him as she set them in her ears, her dress swirling around her. And then she asked him, “Do I look all right?”

“All right?” No words could properly express the vision of loveliness before him; he stammered, trying to find the right way to describe how she affected him, how in awe of her he was. What eventually came out of his stupid gob was the understatement of the year. He only hoped he had projected enough emotion along with his words for her to understand what he had really meant… “My darling, you look wonderful, tonight.”

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 19

Title & Song:  Show Me

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 1800+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where will she draw the line between business and pleasure now that they are working so closely together? The way Alfie chooses to celebrate a personal milestone catches Gen off guard. 

Warnings/Tags: Language. Fluff. 

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Show Me by Dan Auerbach.  

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes and comments feed this artist to write more!

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-18)

Your yawn and very noisy stretch are interrupted by a newspaper hitting you as it's tossed onto the table next to you.

"You see this?" Alfie asks with a strange urgency, sitting in the chair next to you, tapping one pointed finger, large bauble atop it, at an article you were already familiar with in the Business and Agricultural section of the paper.

You settle your hands back in your lap, nodding at him slowly with sleepy eyes. "Mmm Hmm." you say with a bird-like melodic delivery, a pleasant expression on your face. The medicine you'd been given by the doctor had left you sleeping your life away like a cat. Much like an actual kitten, lying about and looking fuzzy and delicate just the same with your unkempt hair and loose dresses.

"How long have you known?" he exclaims, his hand motioning at you with an attitude.

"I had assumed as much after I persuaded my biggest competitor to sell me their business." you look over at him, shoulders slumped and face slightly dazed from sleep and medication.

"This isn't something you'd think to share?" his chin drops, inquiring with words and the look in his eyes.

You shrug, your mouth in a thoughtful pouted pose. "I suppose...since I did the work it didn't feel like a big deal. My day to day hasn't changed drastically since." you shrug. "It's easy to fall back and forget such things when you're under the influence of heavy medication," you say with a slight shake of your head in elaboration. "Didn't want to go braggin' anyway. I saw the article came out but I've been down so I haven't been up for celebrating in my usual manner." you explain, face back to warm and easy going as it swings back his way.

"Number one producer and seller in all of fuckin' London is something you can brag about dear. Especially to me. I mea I'm fuckin' impressed." he admits, his hands moving at you in praise. As he speaks, a smile slowly grows across your face.

"You are?" your face shifts into a bashful expression he's not seen before. The reactionary and less thoughtful Gen was becoming something he's very aware that he'll miss once you healed up and you weren't a kitten version of your usual jungle cat form. Even if the medicine had made you so out of it he'd seen you walk straight into a door frame, then later into a bust in the hallway and apologizing to both after the fact, looking adorably confused and bewildered before he'd contained his laughter to swoop in and help you.

"Of course I am! Aren't you?" he almost shouts, a warm smile on his face, eyes wide and brows raised at you as his faces leaned closer to yours with an expression of genuine care for your thoughts on the subject.

You look down as a smile hits your lips. It spreads and you look back over, biting your lip before admitting with a drawn-out "Yeah."

"'Course you are. You should be, sweetheart." he holds your chin gently as he speaks purposely at you. "Shame you're hurt," he says, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment in thought before his eyes return to you. He retreats his hand. You're doe-eyed and still, sitting, slouched and soft in your big plush chair. "Since this calls for a celebration 'n all," he says with his grumpy thinking face. "Can't smoke cigars. Don't want ya coughin' and breakin' in half, do we?" he muses, his hand patting yours.

"If I'm still on top once I'm healed, perhaps?" you suggest with a slow chuckle, your eyes blinking slowly as the sweet smile of your pride lingered on your lips.

"I'll figure somefin' out." he nods, looking around the room.

"You don't have to Alf." you say, your nose scrunched, head shaking subtly at his fussing.

"I know I don't gotta but I wanna, so I'm gonna. Yeah?" he says definitively with a playful nod and expression.

"Sounds like you." you say with an almost dumb laugh that moves your chest when you raise your shoulders to accompany a teasing, cheesy smile. ----------------------------- Alfie has been gone for over a week. Thankfully for both of you, he returns in time for the weeks Shabbat and you get to spend the entire evening catching up. He set bottles of wine down on the dinner table when he'd rolled in to join everyone.

"Lad at the counter thought I was mad for ordering nothin' but lavender." he explains, shaking his head as the familiar brown paper crinkles under your hands and the smell hits your nose and you let out a small moan at the olfactory triggered memories. "But you talk about that French lavender from ya home being so much better than ours here and well, I just had to bring you home some, dinnit I?" his head is tilted, his most dashing, charming expression leaned in close to your reluctantly impressed one.

You kiss his cheek and he seems thoroughly pleased with himself from the grin he's directing at you. "Thank you, Alfie." you go back to a pleasant closed mouth smile. "They're perfect, ya big sweetie." you softly sigh as you hold the bouquet like a baby.

You saw him tucked away with Aggie in the scullery, giving her a bottle of some alcohol she couldn't find around here and a small book. She practically swooned and kissed his cheek, patting his face and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of what a wonderful husband and provider Alfie would make for at least the next week.

Now you're sitting on his bed in his room, discussing the pleasure side of his trip, as he seems like he felt a bit chatty about it. Maybe it was the combination of wine and tiredness. He's asked you if you'd had the meals he'd had on his trip before and if you'd seen a particular type of flower he'd seen because they were "bloody everywhere" as he exclaimed. As you yawn, he clasps his hands together and turns to a trunk and brings out a box.

"I got ya somefing." he announces, his head dipping as he approached you to sit next to you on the bed.

You don't respond, you just face him with a very endearing smile.

"I happened to be in a jewelry shop, yeah?" he side-eyes you with a cheeky grin as he sees you bite the bait he's set with vigor. "I know you weren't up for celebratin' but I saw this and knew it were put in my path so it'd find it's way to you, eh?" he beams at you, the charm coming from his genuine enthusiasm instead of wolfish smiles.

You barely suppress your excitement and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. You place the box in your lap and bite your lip in anticipation as you lift the lid of the black silk covered box. Inside sits a necklace. A delicate gold linked chain, holding a gemstone encrusted bee. "Alfie..." you say breathlessly, your mouth open and your hand to your chest, not being capable of hiding the lust in your wide eyes. The body and legs made of a gold,  textured and painted with shimmer that caught the light in small starbursts. A striped thorax sits underneath diamond encrusted, delicate wire wings, it's head tipped in large faceted emerald eyes. "Are you fucking serious?" you inquire with an open mouth, not looking at him.

"I saw it and I knew it was meant to be yours. The timing couldn't of better, yeah?" he pulls the lid back so he can see the piece more clearly. "Couldn't leave without it, could I?" his face beaming down at you, still wide-eyed over the gift.

"This is..." you sigh out in a huff. "It's perfect." you place the pendant in your palm and whine at the heaviness of it. How expensive was this thing? Did he steal it? Did it matter? "It's more than a necklace, it's a work of art." you practically moan. "I know gifts can act as proposals in your religion," you dip your voice and layer it in tease as you smile suggestively at him. "Are you trying to seduce me with this?" you accuse with a smirk, lifting your eyes to his.

"'Course not, Genevieve." he says with an exaggerated head shake and frowns with an animated insistence. "The thought has not crossed my mind," he says with a dismissive hand gesture that moves to his chin, drawing your attention to his now mischievous grin. "Not no more than five, ten times." he adds in a smug tone.

Your expression shifts to match his mischievousness. "Clever, cheeky, charmer, you." you say scrunching your nose at him in a laugh. "I thought the number of times would be much higher, honestly." you tease, looking back at the bee, distraction appears in your eyes again quickly.

"I've wondered what this looks like on you for a week now, c'mon." he says with a chuckle, taking it from you and standing. You move to the mirror on a vanity in his room. He stands out of frame after clasping the necklace shut for you, his arms across his chest, one hand rubbing his beard. "I'm so good at what I do I amaze even myself." he says with a nod of pride.

"It's bloody brilliant." you say, your posture correct, your fingers delicately dragging across your chest and shoulders as you look at the piece.

"It was made for ya, sweetheart." he insists with a shake of his head.

"I have to plan an outfit around this." you state with laid-back enthusiasm, holding up parts of your hair, already planning hairstyles. "Fuck me, now I have to go to these posh business events and show it off, don't I?" you say it like it's a bad thing but you have a cheeky smile on your face. "I have a portrait painting coming up soon I might just wear this." you say, leaning back, impressed by your own idea. "Ohhh." you express your enjoyment of the idea. "That would look so good in my office." you state with hunger in your words. You swing your face towards Alfie, who is biting the tip of his thumb at you. "Chime in anytime, Solomons." you laugh and rest your hands on your waist in a pose.

"I'm happy that you're happy with it Genevieve." he says with a dashing expression. "You look a proper titled Lady now, don't ya? Well suited since ya runnin' London and all now, eh?" he gives you a wink, his hands rubbing your arms as his face nears your shoulder. You roll your eyes at the playful suggestion. "It couldn't look better on anyone else." he voice border lining sweet and predatory, his taller form framing yours in the mirror as you bask in the high of expensive gifts and personal attention as he took in the sight of you. The look in his eyes holds the same fondness that yours did for the image reflected in the mirror. Your gazes meet abruptly, causing an unexpected connection in the tension filled moments. Neither of you prove brave enough to hold the stare for very long.

Pt 20 No You Girls

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester​ @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r​ @iliveonchocolateandnetflix​ @jess2464 @hardygal69​ @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons​ @pootle@negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this

[soapberryspringsrpg]

Forbidden Fruits

Hello Berries! The nights are getting longer, the air is getting crisper, the lattes are getting pumpkin spicier so you know what time it is. Time for the third ever Soapberry Springs writing prompt!

This prompt is meant to appeal to that part of many of us that once devoured cheesy romance books, thrilling over cliche after cliche so long as the right people ended up riding off into the sunset together. To play along, please choose one of the scenarios under the cut inspired by the brave harlequin romance writers and their specific books. 

You are free to change genders and names, of course; the only two things that must remain as posted are a) the title and b) the plot.

As always there is no time limit and no due date. Players are welcome to write self-paras, blurbs or novellas, poetry, chatzys or threads, to edit graphics, make playlists, etc. All creative takes on the theme are welcome and encouraged! 

Select below from prompts!

Feyness By E.S. Carter In this dark and sexy story, Faye’s cruel, powerful father forces her to marry wickedly gorgeous Cole. She’s convinced that Cole is pure evil — and he’s determined to break her…

Delicious Temptation By Sabrina Sol

After years of keeping her family’s struggling bakery afloat, pastry chef Amara is tired of being safe and predictable. Can she convince Eric, her brother’s ex-best friend, to make good on his bad-boy reputation? A smoldering erotic romance!

An Unconventional Courtship By Scotty Cade

Personal assistant Tristan and his CEO boss, Webber, both struggle to hide their true feelings from each other. But when the pair travel to the Caribbean on a business trip, they discover they can’t hold back their desires forever…

Grayson’s Mate By Tamsin Baker

An alpha werewolf in search of his mate is led to the last person he expected: the handsome stranger he rescued from a car accident. Their desire is undeniable, but can a werewolf and a mortal man find a way to be together?

Make Me Want By Katee Robert

Lucy is a confident, high-powered lawyer — but her ex-boyfriend gave her self-esteem issues in bed. Can her friend Gideon help her realize she has the power to drive him wild?

Bound by Honor By Cora Reilly

To fulfill her father’s promise, Aria must marry notorious, coldhearted Luca. But can she break down Luca’s walls and find the passion within him?

Bad Neighbor By M. O’Keefe

Sparks fly when Charlotte meets her sexy new neighbor Jesse. He’s an alpha bad boy who isn’t afraid of anything — except for his growing attraction to Charlotte, as their desire for each other rages out of control…

London Calling By Clare Lydon

A charming, witty romance: Jess never expected to be moving back in with her parents at the age of 32. But just as things seem hopeless, she makes an unexpected connection with a gorgeous woman. Could happily ever after be on the horizon?

Three Wrong Turns in the Desert By Neil Plakcy

Aidan can’t stop thinking about Liam, the alluring bodyguard he met in a Tunisian bar… When a high-octane chase takes them into the desert, their desires reach a boiling point in this steamy adventure!

Tempting Boundaries By Carrie Ann Ryan

Decker has always lusted after his best friend’s little sister, the woman he can’t have. But when Miranda decides she wants him, he may not be able to resist any longer…

Camp H.O.W.L. By Bru Baker

A sexy shifter romance! When Adrian finally turns into a werewolf — eight years late — Tate, a counselor at a camp for new werewolves, is ready to guide him. But cynical Tate never expected Adrian to be his destined mate…

Roller Girl By Vanessa North

When newly single Tina joins Joanne’s roller derby team, their friendship ignites a steamy passion behind closed doors…

The Shop on Main By Kay Correll

Bella is devastated to learn that she may lose her small shop — and an attractive businessman is the root of her worries. When they clash, can she settle her financial woes on her own and embrace a second chance at love?

The Road to You By Harper Bliss

Serious Katherine and free-spirited Ali have been enemies since college… but fate keeps throwing them together. As the years go on, will they see another side to each other — one they could learn to love?

Road to the Sun By Keira Andrews

When his eight-year-old daughter is kidnapped in Montana, single dad Jason Kellerman enlists the help of park ranger Ben Hettler. Suppressing their burning mutual attraction, the two men begin a wild and desperate hunt through the wilderness…

Captive of the Hitman By Alexis Abbott

When Alicia gets caught up in a dangerous situation, Mikhail takes her captive for her protection. But their sexual chemistry is off the charts — and he refuses to let her go…

Feeling Hot By Elle Kennedy

Home from deployment, Navy SEAL Cash McCoy forms a tantalizing connection with a mysterious blonde. Little does he know that she’s Jen Scott — his commanding officer’s sister! Can he keep his hands to himself around the one woman who’s off-limits?

Professional Distance By Silvia Violet

Heartbroken Thornwell swears off love — until he hires aspiring chef Riley as an escort! Though the two men couldn’t be more different, they begin to fall for each other. Can Riley convince Thornwell to set aside his doubts and live deliciously?

Black By T.L. Smith

Left heartbroken by his first and only love, hit man Liam Black is surprised to find her a decade later. But Rose isn’t the woman she used to be…

Training Sasha By Becca Jameson

Sasha is eager to explore her submissive side, but BDSM club owner Lincoln — who’s also her brother’s friend — won’t admit his attraction to her. Can she convince him to help her explore her sexual desires?

Stalking Buffalo Bill By J. Leigh Bailey

From the moment coyote shifter Donnie spotted buffalo shifter William at his cafe, he was smitten. When deadly figures from William’s past come back to settle unfinished business, the pair team up to ward off danger — and protect their future together.

Dog Days By TA Moore

Apocalyptic weather conditions are wreaking havoc across the globe. But weredog Danny has more immediate problems — including his wolfish ex-lover, Jack…

Dirty Girl By Meghan March

When Greer is drunk one night, she posts an embarrassing personal ad — and now she has thousands of takers! But bad boy Cavanaugh is a cut above the rest…

Tonight’s Encore By Parker Avrile

When Zac returns to his small hometown, he renews his relationship with Reed, who knew him before he became a rock star. But the pressures of fame could tear them apart in this steamy gay romance!

The Longest River By Hildred Billings

After the death of her twin sister, Helen moves to a secluded mountain village to find her independence and heal. There she meets widowed bookstore owner Kiyoko — an introduction that feels like fate…

Dirty Daughter By JB Duvane

Emily is determined to seduce her mother’s former psychologist, Max. But she doesn’t realize that he has his own plans for her — and soon she’ll be locked up in his remote cottage, forced to satisfy his every desire…

Mr. So Wrong By R.C. Stephens

A searing, sexy romance! After finding wealthy bad boy Al caught in a blizzard, Samantha brings him to her ranch to nurse him back to health. She doesn’t want to let anyone close to her heart, but why can’t she keep Al out of her bed?

Tempt the Playboy By Natasha Madison

After arrogant playboy Noah has a one-night stand with Kaleigh, he’s determined to claim her again. But she may not fall for his charms so easily…

One Last Heist By Dahlia Donovan

Partners in love and in crime, Toshiro and Mack plan to get their crew together for one last heist. It was supposed to be easy — but as they become embroiled in a deadly conspiracy, the stakes will rise out of their control…

Little Liar By W Winters

With so much pain in her past, there’s no way Allie should be drawn to bad boy Dean. And yet she can’t seem to stay away from him…

Seducing Cinderella By Gina L. Maxwell

Physical therapist Lucie needs help wooing her crush, so she asks her brother’s best friend, Reid, to teach her the art of seduction. But their arrangement leads to an unexpected chemistry, and Reid can’t give her up…

Tormentor Mine By Anna Zaires

In this “darkly addictive and hauntingly beautiful” romance, assassin Peter comes to torture Sara. But then he becomes obsessed with her…

As Sure as the Sun By Elle Keaton

After a brush with death, retired US Marshal Sacha starts anew in a small town. As he works to restore an old building, he crosses paths with history enthusiast Seth — and discovers a sizzling attraction that may persuade both men to risk their hearts.

The Endgame Duet By Cleary James

When her life takes a turn for the worse, Lisa offers herself to wealthy Grayson in exchange for the money she needs. For seven days he can do whatever he wants with her — but will they be able to control their sensual desires?

The Beat of Love By L. Loryn

In this passionate gay romance, brooding musician Wolfe and handsome actor Miguel court the media by pretending to be a couple. Will their fake celebrity relationship crash and burn — or turn into a connection more powerful than they expected?

The Isle of... Where? By Sue Brown

When Liam Marshall travels to the Isle of Wight to fulfill his best friend’s dying wish, Sam Owens helps him through it. They swiftly develop a connection — but does their budding relationship have an expiration date?

Ruthless By Dani René

Dangerous bad boy Callan always gets whatever he wants — so when he sees sweet Madison at a BDSM club, he must have her. A darkly delicious erotic tale!

Fire and Flint By Andrew Grey

When single father Jordan turns to sheriff’s deputy Pierre with his concerns about a corrupt judge, the two men discover they’ve made a powerful enemy. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect each other in this stirring and suspenseful read.

Entangled by Nikki Jefford

Two months after dying, Gray wakes up in her twin’s body. She’s forced to spend every other day impersonating snobby Charlene — and only warlock Raj notices the difference. Can Gray be saved, or will she fade altogether?

Southern Spirits by Angie Fox

When Verity discovers the power to commune with the spirit world, she teams up with local bad boy Ellis to evict some undead tenants.

Witch Slapped by Dakota Cassidy

Stripped of her powers, ex-witch Stevie Cartwright teams up with the ghost of a sexy British spy to solve a murder case involving a bogus psychic medium.

Issued to the Bride: One Navy SEAL by Cora Seton

Navy SEAL vet Brian has always dreamed of owning his own ranch — so when he’s asked to marry a general’s daughter, Cass, in exchange for a share of her land, he can’t refuse.

Sit… Stay… Beg by Roxanne St. Claire

Garrett, a dot-com millionaire turned dog rescuer, keeps his heart on a tight leash — until journalist Jessie is hired to write a profile on him…

Earthrise by M.C.A. Hogarth

On a mysterious rescue mission, no-nonsense ship captain Reese Eddings commands her vessel Earthrise straight into danger, battling pirates and slavers to save elf prince Hirianthial…

Chez Stinky by Susan C. Daffron

Kat inherits her great-aunt’s dilapidated house, which is filled to the brim with pets and complications. As she adjusts to her new surroundings — and connects with Joel, who’s as handy as he is handsome — will she embrace her new start?

Rumor Has It by Elisabeth Grace

When an embarrassing video goes viral, Ellie Wagner’s reputation pays the price. Her life seems ruined, but a fresh start awaits when she falls for Mason Nash…

Smart Tass by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Hunter has been tormenting his bookish neighbor Tass since they were children. But when she’s challenged to date him — and he needs to take her virginity to win a bet — can a fake relationship solve their problems and reveal their true feelings for one another?

Once Upon a Time by Blair Babylon

When princess Flicka decides to flee her violent ex, her bodyguard Dieter is the only one who can help her. But their irresistible attraction heats up in ways neither of them expected…

Malevolent by Jana DeLeon

PI Shaye Archer takes on the baffling case of Emma Frederick, a woman convinced that her abusive husband is out to get her. Except Emma killed her husband weeks ago…

Club Shadowlands by Cherise Sinclair

Stranded during a storm, Jessica takes shelter in a nearby house. But when she discovers it’s actually a private BDSM club, she begins to explore her fantasies with a sexy dominant…

Stripped by Stacy-Deanne

Baltimore cop Dee Quarter investigates a cult whose charismatic leader, Jonathan Wild, is determined to ensnare her…

Kiss of Fire by Rebecca Ethington

Joclyn just sent her high school bully flying through the air! Could her phenomenal power have something to do with the strange new scar on her neck? Her handsome best friend Ryland holds all the secrets…

Heaven in His Arms by Lisa Ann Verge

Forced to take a bride, André chooses sickly Genevieve, assuming she won’t survive the harsh winter. But Genevieve is not the frail noblewoman she appears to be, and André soon realizes that he needs her more than he ever expected…

In Search of a Love Story by Rachel Schurig

Tired of losing at love, Emily undertakes a research project: she’ll binge on romance novels and chick flicks until she learns their secret. Handsome Greg could be her Prince Charming — but why is Emily’s friend Elliot so unhappy about her plan?

The Chef’s Mail-Order Bride by Cindy Caldwell

Tripp trained at an elite culinary school, but he can’t get a loan for his restaurant without a wife. Raised in a bakery, Sadie agrees to head west as Tripp’s bride. Can the two learn to work together as they open their new restaurant — and find love in the process?

The Witch Hunter by Nicole R. Taylor

Cursed by an ancient witch, vampire Zachary will die a slow, agonizing death. His only shot at survival is Aya, the so-called Witch Hunter, who has been asleep for 150 years… But she has no interest in helping him.

Ignite by Kaitlyn Davis

When Kira discovers her mystical powers, she must fight for her life — and choose between sweet, goofy Luke and gorgeous, blood-hungry Tristan.

Crash by Drew Jordan

Stranded in the Alaskan wilderness, Laney takes refuge in the arms of the stranger who rescues her. But will he be her savior — or her destroyer?

Going Hard by Kelsey Browning

When rich playboy Grif Steele returns to his hometown, he reconnects with Carlie Beth Parrish. But with a murderous stalker on the prowl, can Grif protect her — and the daughter he never knew he had?

Hers to Take by Talia Ellison

When Octavia gets caught in a dangerous situation, her rival, Aaron, offers her a deal she can’t refuse — to escape with her life, she must pretend to be his sex slave. But they don’t expect a forbidden attraction to ignite…

Claimed by Evangeline Anderson

The Kindred race is primarily male, and must choose among human women for their brides. When Olivia is drafted into marrying broken and tortured Baird, she’s determined to resist — but she hadn’t counted on falling for her alien warrior husband…

Forever a Soldier by Genevieve Turner

When Hank returns from combat, he agrees to move into a 100-year-old house owned by his great-great aunt and uncle. His peace is disturbed by Lale, an inquisitive scholar digging into his family’s secrets. But their attraction will open up hidden places in their hearts…

Liam by Kimber White

Though forbidden to be with his fated mate, sexy shifter Liam will stop at nothing to claim Molly, the spitfire who sets his heart aflame. But is Molly ready to embrace his wolfish identity?

The Second Sister by Rae D. Magdon

When Eleanor’s father dies, she’s left with her unhinged stepmother and two stepsisters, Luciana and Belladonna. Eleanor must prevent wicked Luciana from bewitching a prince — but meanwhile, beautiful Belladonna stirs up feelings she can’t resist…

Time to Upsize by Graeme Aitken

Blake’s the perfect boyfriend as far as Stephen is concerned: easygoing, gentle, and sweet. But lately, Blake has been getting increasingly jealous, and it doesn’t help when gorgeous Rick moves next door. Can Stephen resist temptation?

Playing Games by Liliana Rhodes

Cassie gets her dream job working for billionaire Gabriel — and she’s determined to remain professional. But their irresistible attraction ignites after she’s caught trying to watch him in the shower…

Kindling Flames: Gathering Tinder by Julie Wetzel

After landing a job as assistant to a handsome CEO, Victoria feels like her life is finally on the right track. But when she discovers her new boss is the city’s most powerful vampire, she’ll have to decide whether her attraction to him is worth the risk…

Switching Hour by Robyn Peterman

After a stint in witch prison, Zelda is on magic probation — and if she can’t finish a mysterious task in the next month, she’ll be stripped of her powers forever. But a gorgeous werewolf may prove to be a tempting distraction…

Sacrificed to the Dragon by Jessie Donovan

Dragon shifter Tristan has despised humans ever since hunters killed his mother. But his clan insists he needs an heir — and a human mate. When he meets gorgeous Melanie, a slow-burning fire ignites deep within…

The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride by Kristen Painter

Running from the mob, Delaney becomes a mail-order bride in the spooky town of Nocturne Falls — only to learn her fiancé is a 400-year-old vampire!

Haunted on Bourbon Street by Deanna Chase

When empath Jade Calhoun moves into a haunted New Orleans apartment, she must use her unique abilities — and the help of her sexy landlord — to ward off a powerful spirit.

[aquawolfgirl]

Dark themes prompts 1, 4 and if you can add 28 then even better.

Oh, anon, you gave me a difficult one … how am I supposed to choose between vampire and werewolf?!

1. Vampire/werewolf AU.4. Forbidden relationship (characters cannot be together and pine from a distance; characters do get together but must always be secretive about it.)28. Doomed relationships (“But this can never work!” ; reflecting on how the situation will eventually end in heartbreak; dating the enemy, etc.)

Ah, well … I’m in a werewolf mood, so here ya go.

Send me a dark prompt! (Or two. Or three. Because everyone’s combining them, now)

-

It both helps and hurts that she’s the village orphan. Or at least she was until Thomas Crane’s parents perished in a cart crash on the way to the town market. Still, as the older town orphan, she is both ignored and scrutinized. It takes a village, they say. But truly, no one cares about her. They care about whether what she does reflects poorly on them. 

And this, she thinks, will certainly reflect poorly, should they ever find out.

The full moon is high, shining through the trees. It’s the dead of winter, and the cold air bites through her thin clothes as she trudges her way through the forest she was told never to enter, for there were wolves. 

Oh, how little she knew. 

She spent the little money she earned at the tavern to buy the best cut of meat she could. He can eat rabbits, and squirrels, yes, she’s seen him tear them apart with his sharpened teeth, merciless and bloody. But the eyes he makes at her when she presents him with the beef is always worth the loss of dignity she suffers from wearing a lower cut dress for bigger tips. 

A stick cracks nearby, and Rey startles, looking around the forest for any sign of movement. “Kylo?” she hisses, her breath pluming in front of her as a gust of wind rattles her bones and prickles her skin through the thin brown cloak. 

The sharp, girlish giggle she hears is decidedly not her Kylo.

“Louis, stop! Someone is close!”

“You think I care?” 

Rey makes a face at the sounds of lips meeting lips, wet and sloppy. She makes the mistake of turning the other way, right into a bush she couldn’t see. Gasping at the pain of little, naked branches scraping her legs and thighs, she backs up in an attempt to disentangle herself. She can feel that her dress is caught on the branches, even though she can’t see it, and she whines, reaching down through the sharp branches to-

Warm lantern light blinds her, before there’s an arm around her waist, yanking her back and out of the bush. Rey yelps at the feeling of being bodily lifted, her feet kicking in her thin and worn-out boots. 

“I didn’t need your help, Louis,” she growls, feeling the arm around her waist tighten. “But thank you. Now let me go.” 

“Clara wants you to join us,” the town scoundrel says. Rey turns, seeing his wolfish grin in the low lantern light. Just out of the corner of her eye, she can see one of the tavern maids sitting on a cloak, bundled up in furs. No doubt the inn was full of weary, cold travelers, and both Louis and Clara are married - home is not an option. And so the woods it is. Why they wish to commit their sins in the middle of winter, Rey doesn’t understand, but she has no interest in committing with them. 

“Thank you for the offer, but I have to decline,” she says between gritted teeth, struggling against his arm. A scoundrel though he may be, he is a strong one, and it’s like struggling against a stone as she kicks a little. 

“Come on, it will be fun. We have blankets, and furs, and we’ll warm you up, little scavenger…” he purrs. His breath smells of foul ale, and Rey grimaces, hoping the lantern light doesn’t catch it in fear of him becoming angry instead of interested. 

“I’m sorry, but I already have someone-”

“Little orphan girl sneaking out to meet her sweetheart?” he asks, his voice high pitched and incredulous. Rey hears the bushes rustle, and prays that it is just a rabbit. “Don’t tell me - Franklin?” 

There’s laughter in his voice. Franklin is perhaps the most disgusting, vile man in the village, a pot-bellied drunk with no wife, no family, barely even a house on the edge of the village. If he’s not drinking, he’s eating, and he’s neat at neither. 

“It’s none of your concern,” Rey growls. 

“So it is Franklin! Ah, forbidden love!” 

“Louis, let me go!”

“Oh, but you’ll have so much more fun with me and-”

A growl cuts him off, low and guttural. Anyone else in the village would be paralyzed with fear at the red eyes glowing through the dead bushes, but a wave of relief floods through Rey. She can feel Louis freeze at her back before she’s promptly let go, falling to the frozen ground painfully. Rey hisses as she hears Louis quickly telling his forbidden lover to grab the blankets, they’re leaving, run!

“And so he leaves me to the wolves,” Rey grumbles, sitting up and looking down at her poor skirt in the moonlight, before she feels warm fur against her cheek, and a hot, wet tongue at her jaw. 

“You’re late,” she tells the large black wolf, but she closes her eyes and leans into the wolf’s warm, soft fur. 

There’s another lick to her cheek. Let me make it up to you.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

-

Lord Kylo Ren is not the lord of their village. He’s the lord of several other villages, his manor on the other side of the woods with Elkton and Stonewood. 

She is an orphan. No last name, no wealth, not even a home to call her own. Just a sort of hobbled-together stone and mud hut on the edge of town, if one can even call it a hut. 

All the more reason why they shouldn’t be together. He is worth everything. She is worth nothing. 

Of course, there’s the fact that some people would consider their relationship bestiality, but that’s quite another topic. 

Does she love him when he is in his furred form? Absolutely. Do they make love in his furred form? Absolutely not. No, his furred form is for cuddling up to, for soft licks against her cheek, for her hand sinking into the thick, black fur on his side and rubbing until the aches and pains from the transformation go away. She’s seen it once. It doesn’t look pleasant, and as Kylo told her after he turned back, it certainly doesn’t feel pleasant.

“You could come after this is finished,” Kylo tells her, his bare skin dripping with sweat after turning back. The sun is rising, now, turning the sitting room they’re in golden, sunlight shining through the windows of the manor. 

Rey brushes his hair back, leaning in to slot her lips against his, feeling his matted, sweat-slicked hair and the shaking of his hand as he cups her cheek. 

She could, she supposes. But then she would miss the fur, the gentle licks between her fingers, those sweet eyes and his cold nose. 

And she would miss seeing him like this, bare and glistening and perfect. 

They will argue often about whether they deserve each other. He claims he is cursed, he is damaged, he is a beast, he does not deserve her. She claims she is nothing, she is worthless, she is an orphan, she does not deserve him. 

Perhaps it is why she so often thinks they are doomed, even with his great furry head in her lap and her fingers in his fur. Even as he comes up from between her legs, his mouth glistening with her and eyes flashing red in the darkness of his chambers. 

They are doomed, because they are convinced they don’t deserve each other.