#1462 words

[monochromaticwriting]

Let's play a game called, "What Author is Mono Obsessing Over?"

Or otherwise, Does anyone want to guess the story I was inspired by?

When they first came to life, they heard an overwhelming amount of noises. Noises of smashing, speaking languages they had never heard, footsteps on sand. Its eyes open, before shutting from the blinding light. What light! It had never seen such light! And this body. What body! A body? They had never had a body of their own. That meant the ritual worked!

They looked at themselves in a mirror. They were a tan man, with brown curls atop their head. Its hands rub through its hair. Is this what it was like to feel hair? With hands? It never had hands that could touch. Nor did it ever have hair to feel. They touched its face. It never had a face of its own. It could never obtain a face of its own. It never minded.

Stumbling on feet, graceful as a human child, it danced through the streets. The man this body originally belonged to was no longer present. Not that it would've given it back. They made a deal, and he followed through. This is their body now. The Prince called to it, and now it could fulfill his request!

But it did not get a chance to. As it grew tired, as was the nature of a child who had burned through their energies, a man in robes came before it. Though it did not know his name, it knew who he was. He was the son of the Father. Of Him. The Father who had casted out The Fallen One. It knew that he would exorcise them. So they fell to their knees, begging in multitudes of stumbling voices. Begging in voices that spoke in languages it didn't know.

They begged to not be sent back to the abyss with those who did not believe them. They needed to prove their Prince was real, and was stronger than The Fallen One. He did not grant it the mercy. They begged to be casted into the herd of swine, at least they could travel better, to find their Prince. That did not happen either. The swine dove into the cold abyss of the salted ocean, taking it back to the heat of the core.

The man was not saved. It claimed his soul, and made him a spot within themselves. It wasn't his fault that they couldn't fulfill their duty. But now they were stuck again. They needed to get to its Prince. The true One. The Ruler of Hell. So it began to scheme and plan. Sand dunes, changed into lush forests. Small villages and towns, turned into a grand Castle.

Within this Castle was the Snake. A man who was only interested in his own gain. A man, who was smart, without the wisdom in place. His arrogance could only be rivalled by the Fallen One, but it couldn't complain. Not when he summoned both it, and its Kin, to possess the castle. They grew stronger within his reign. Lived longer within the realm of man. It followed its rules from the man, even brain washing others to create an army unlike any other. Its kin, the Forgotten One, however, was not like them. It was aggressive, powerful, far more dangerous than it. No sane human would have tried to contain it, yet the Snake tried.

They hid, as four Holy Ones marched through its walls. The Holy Ones came to seal the Forgotten One away. It watched with curiosity, though caution. Its slithered and pulsated and dripped down the marble pillars, following these Holy Ones. It watched as the Snake lied to the Holy Ones. Lied about what brought about its kin. Only one of these Holy Ones didn't seem convinced. This one, The Fox, had found a relic in his patrol for its kin. A powerful relic. He took a shard of this relic, its black surface shimmering, showing the Fox parts of the future. Though, he did not tell any of the other Holy Ones of his find.

Seasons changed, as did the times. The Fox played his role beautifully. Soon, three of the Holy Ones became monsters. It had heard the gossip from many servants within its walls. It was stronger than the tie it had with the Snake. And the Snake knew he was only on borrowed time. The Snake tried to redeem himself, tried to send them back to the fiery abyss. But the Snake was too weak now.

It devoured the Snake, bringing forth the Bat and her offspring. Though all were illegitimate, it didn't care. It never minded human politics on offspring. She turned its kin into more of her offspring, taking their abilities from ever returning to the fiery abyss they had called their homes. It was never home to it. This was where they belonged. In wait for their Prince. Their saviour.

It waited for centuries. Centuries of serving, building, devouring the knights that stormed its walls. It waited for its Prince. It waited for the day for the True One to come. Its patience was rewarded. It overheard the Bat speak to one of its turned kin. "My lady, I fear the one to destroy you has been born. He is in the hands of the Brotherhood." The Turned One says.

"Many humans have tried, but none have succeeded, how is an infant to bring mine and my brothers destruction?" Was The Bat's arrogant answer. Oh, how it wished to answer her, but it knew better. The Bat would die to its Prince. As would many of her offspring. Even the Turned Ones. A few more decades. It could wait.

Compared to the millenniums it had waited, the decades felt like a breeze. Three decades and four years. But its Prince finally crossed the thresholds of its walls. It observed the man. Distastefully human, yet broken close to beyond repair. It just needed to wait a few more moons. A few more fights. A few more tragedies.

Soon, the Bat was burned in the light of the sun. But nothing came from the Bat's ashes, as the True One needed to continue his quest.

It could feel when the True One destroyed the Fallen One. There was a feeling in the air. A sense of peace. Yes. It knew its Prince was stronger. Now it could act. Spilling, dripping, sliding down the pillars and walls, it loosened the seal over the Forgotten One. Now, its plan of many millenniums would come to fruition, and it would reap the bountiful harvest it sowed.

The Little Bat, a daughter of The Bat, fought beside the True One. Their techniques were perfect beside each other. It watched as the Little Bat gave her blood to the True One. It could not watch as the True One fought the Forgotten One. It could only sit and wait. Wait for the True One to come back.

And he did. It watched as the broken body of the True One walked through its walls. Watched as the broken human body collapsed, succumbing to the Little Bat's curse. It made its move. Finally, it was able to touch the divinity beneath it. It made its offer, True One, we have waited long for your birth and arrival. Our savior. Our divine. My Prince.

Its tendrils cut through the human skin, the tendons, ligaments, meat, fat, tissue. Organs now splayed out of the corpse. It sliced the veins open, pouring its own blood through it, forcing the heart to slowly start back. It rumbles in glee as the Prince's eyes open. Welcome back my Prince.... We've been waiting for you to grace us with your divine presence.

From the torn human flesh, birthed The Dragon. The true savior of monsters, demons, and humans. As the Dragon came to life, breathing his first breath of life, it guarded him. As he stumbled on limbs he was not used to, like a lamb just born in the field, it was the dog, watching and waiting for those who would prey on its beloved Prince.

Everything it did was solely for the newborn Prince. If that meant tearing apart traitors and intruders alike to feed its Prince. If it meant becoming something akin to its Prince. If it meant towering over, making itself twenty times the size, building more and more, sinking low enough to take parts of the fiery abyss. It did it. For it loved its Prince, and it showed its devotions as offerings of safety and love. Building walls and secret rooms solely for its Prince.

The Prince made the offer. The offer it had strove for. An eternity beside its divine companion. One, it accepted. For the Dragon was nothing without his devoted Castle, nor was The Castle anything without its Dragon.

[alectoperdita]

LOL

Sometimes Jou/I think we're sooooo funny.

Once home, he stowed the box in his bedroom, shoving it into the bottom of a clothing drawer where he didn't touch it for another week. Even so, it taunted him relentlessly. Again, he questioned if insanity was contagious because Kaiba'd clearly rubbed off on him. (Well, they did rub against each other. Naked. Frequently. To great pleasure usually.) The lingerie set cost him a pretty penny. He even used his recently acquired credit card to pay for it. Leave it up to Kaiba to have expensive taste. He couldn't believe he was going into credit card debt for the stupid bastard.

And I guess we have ourselves the first year 3 story 🤪

It was self-defense, he told himself. Damage control. Last year, Kaiba slipped him aphrodisiacs as a birthday "present." So it seemed wise to head off any similar gifts by taking the initiative. He definitely wasn't doing it because he got off on Kaiba calling him "pretty" or "cute," stroking his body with appreciative hands, and fucking his brains out. Nope. Not at all. It was his birthday. If he didn't get to call the shots, he could at least hedge the bets in his favor.

*should be writing snippets of a joukai Honkai Star Rail fusion, get distracted by more Lure lingerie smut instead* 🤪

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 3: High sex with Wade Wilson/Deadpool

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool X Fem!Reader Word Count: 1462 Warnings: recreational drug use, Shotgunning, P in V sex, These two are so soft I love it.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

It happened. You've died and gone to Heaven.

That's the only explanation for how perfect this day is.

It was another sesh day for you and Wade, and when you'd woken up that morning it was to the sound of soft pitter-patters as rain landed on your window, the sky dark and grey with the occasional break to let just enough light through to make the water droplets everywhere look like little diamonds.

The weed was hitting especially nicely, making your head feel light and drifty, your limbs both buzzing and leaden as you lounged back against Wade's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his steady breaths, his strong legs caging you in on either side.

There was a half-eaten bag of cheesy crackers on the table next to you, and in the back of your mind you remembered that there was a melty tuna casserole in the kitchen for later.

Wade himself was trailing his hand up and down your arm absentmindedly as he watched the T.V. playing some trashy daytime show. He had his mask on, still not quite ready to go without it around you, but you were happy to wait, as long as he was still there you were happy.

As you watched him, he turned and looked down at you. "Sup, Smiley?" He asked, poking your flushed cheek with a finger, which made you puff them out jokingly in response, pulling stoned giggles from both of you.

"Nothin', just really happy." You answered once you'd caught your breath, reaching up for the blunt hanging from the fingers of his other hand, plucking it from his hold and taking a long slow drag, holding the smoke for a moment before letting it curl slowly from between your lips.

You could feel Wade's gaze on you as your half lidden eyes watched the sunshine through the silver cloud moving slowly up, forming abstract shapes. "Well, ain't that a sight..." He murmured and you half expected there to be some dirty conclusion to that sentence, but there wasn't, he just kept watching you.

Tilting your head back you turned your gaze away from the smoke cloud to look up at him, a lazy smile warming your face. "Who? Me?" You asked coyly, suddenly feeling a different kind of buzz under your skin. "Can we do the thing?" You asked sweetly, knowing he couldn't say no to your cute face.

You could see his smile through the mask, and he nodded, plucking the joint from your fingers and holding away at a safe distance so you could change positions.

His free hand helped you stay steady as you shifted till you were straddling his lap, you could feel the press of the slowly forming erecting, not even at half-mast yet but already well on its way.

As you settled, his hands came to rest on your lower back, pulling you slowly closer, you naturally arched into his touch, pressing your chest to his as your faces hovered an inch from each other, desperate to press your lips to his but parted by his mask.

"Can I...?" You asked softly, voice thin as the smoke still floating in the air. He knew exactly what you were asking, and he felt his chest swell as he watched you wait for his answer, obviously itching to hear a yes, but so ready to accept a no.

"Yeah, Sweets. Go ahead." He said it lightly, like he didn't actually care that much, but you felt his heart skip a beat, you felt the hitch in his breath. It always made him a little nervous, even though he knew you didn’t care how he looked.

So, with that in mind, you moved slow as you lifted a hand, fingers slipping under the hem and brushing the soft scarred skin of his neck. His breath hitched again, but for a different reason as you felt the stirring pressed against your center.

You pulled the mask up to his nose, giving you just enough exposure to get to his lips.

He brought the blunt to his lips and took a slow drag, and you were sure he was watching you watch him, his lips pursing as he inhaled, face lit up slightly more by the cherry.

You were hypnotized by him.

The hit was held for half the time he normally would before his free hand took hold of your jaw, guiding your lips till they hovered so close you could feel his heat but somehow not touching.

You had to remind yourself to inhale the smoke and not just stare at him as he exhaled slowly.

You tried to picture his expression under the mask, eyes half lidden and a little red and watery, pupils dilated as arousal started to trickle into his veins.

You were pretty sure he didn't have any hair, given that there hasn't been any to be found on the rest of his body, of it that you've seen in the light, so you were willing to bet he didn't have eyelashes, but your brain supplied you with the mental image of them fluttering as his eyes closed.

The faint brush of the smoke passing from him to you suddenly consumed all your attention, pulling it in to hold for but a moment, an ultimately useless moment given how high you already are, before tilting your head back, giving Wade a nice view of the collum of your neck.

If you were to ask Wade why he did what he did next, he'd probably hit you with a dirty quip or joke, but the truth is it was pure instinct for him to wrap his hand around your neck, hand curving around so his fingertips rested over your pulse points.

His skin was so hot against yours, the callouses on his fingers left a tingling sensation. If all he did was hold you like this, you'd have been happy, but instead he gave a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, finding the boundary of Just Right and Too Much.

And he knows he's found it when you're wiggling on his lap, your cunt grinding against his cock with the irritating barriers of your clothes.

Wade likes a good long tease before getting to the meat and potatoes of fucking, loves the sweet torture of getting edged a good few (dozen) times.

But right now, he wanted to bask in you. In how you made him feel high as much as the actual drug.

It was a slow and lazy process, getting both your pants off or pushed down enough to get the job done, hands moving slow, pawing gently at each other.

But once your leggings and panties are hanging from one of your ankles and his own sweats and boxers are shoved down, you're right back to grinding against him, coating his thick length in the abundant wetness that's accumulated between your thighs.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders for stability as you rocked against him. "Wade..." You breathed against his lips, skin brushing ever so slightly. You're not sure what you're trying to draw his attention to, or even if that's what you were doing at all. Maybe you were just saying his name to taste it.

"I gotcha, Sweets." He said softer than you've ever heard him be.

Suddenly you needed him inside you yesterday, so with a tilt of your hips and a guiding hand you sank down on his cock, a high whine escaping your lips at the full feeling.

You felt rather than heard the low moan that rumbled in Wade's chest as you settled all the way down, taking his full length. "Fucking fuck you feel incredible...Fuck..." He muttered against your neck as he trailed lips and teeth, undoubtedly leaving marks in his wake as he nipped and bit.

The slow rock of your hips was every bit as lazy as the removal of your clothes had been. As was the kiss you two shared, all slow messy tongues and playful teeth. Hands roamed, kneading and squeezing here and there as they went but never staying in one spot for long.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, and unlike the crashing waves of pleasure, it was more like a gentle lapping of heat in your belly.

The flutter of your pussy pulled a groan from Wade, but he never stopped moving. His own hips picking up where your left off as you rode out your orgasm. "That's it, Baby." He encouraged as one of his hands moved from where it had been gripping your hip down to rub slow lazy circles on your clit as he began to roll his hips up into your in earnest.

"I'm far from done with you."

God, you hoped so.

[mxrccuryy]

Hard to read, part two

part one | part two | part three

♡ pairing theodore nott x fem!reader ♡ summary theodore nott  is so difficult to read, even though you pride yourself in being able to read others flawlessly. your friend, pansy is convinced that the boy likes you, but you’re really not sure. so, pansy makes you a bet. one week and theo asks you out, otherwise, she pays for everything you want at hogsmeade for a year. ♡ wordcount 1462 ♡ warnings house isn’t really specified but probably slytherin. theo is taller than reader.

sunday

pansy plopped down in the chair next to theo. the boy didn’t even look up, the aura of his friend was enough for him to know who it was. 

however, the girl opted to stay silent and just stare at him.

“what d’you want?” he asked, finally taking his eyes off of the book he was reading. 

“you like y/n,” she said seriously.

theo’s eyes widened [slightly] in shock.

“don’t deny it, nott,” pansy threatened, her pointer finger drawing circles in the air in front of his nose. “you are going to confess to her,”

“like shit, i am,” theo scoffed, eyes naturally finding his way back to his book, not making any effort in reading anymore. pansy noted how he didn’t deny it.

“you are going–,” pansy’s sentence was cut short when she heard footsteps come down from the girls dormitory. 

there you were in all your glory. with confident steps you stood in front of the two, at first glance, it looked like theo wasn’t paying attention to you at all. his eyes stayed glued to the words on the pages of his book. but theo wasn’t focusing on the words, instead the only thing that replayed in his head were your soft spoken words which asked them if you had to wait for them to go to dinner.

much to your dismay, it was pansy who answered you. she told you to go ahead, that she and theo had some stuff to speak about. before you could turn around, you were greeted with a sly wink coming from your best friend. 

the entire common room stayed silent. the only noise that echoed between the cold walls were your shoes hitting the floor and the ultimate closing of the door. 

theo eyes had followed your figure from the moment you had turned around but he had kept his head low, so that in the chance that you turned back around, he could pretend like he wasn’t watching you.

“you’ve got till sunday,” pansy smirked at him, happy at what she had caught with her own two eyes. 

theo looked at her in slight shock as she pranced out of the common room, blowing him an air kiss right before the door closed. 

theo took one of his hands and pushed back his hair. in the process he let his head fall back on the backrest of the couch. 

he was in for a treat.

monday

like usual, you were one of the first people of your and pansy’s friend group to make it to the great hall for dinner. it was only yesterday that you had made the bet with pansy. nothing had happened. you thought you had caught him staring at you during herbology this morning. when you, a second later, turned your head back to him, it looked like he hadn’t looked up at all. 

he was so invested in the conversation between mattheo and lorenzo. you probably just imagined it. afterall, there was part of you that wished for pansy’s words to be true.

dinner with the other slytherin was always a surprise. sometimes you’d sit alone, and sometimes you’d be surrounded by them. it all depended on who was first to choose their seats. most of the time, pansy would try and sit next to you no matter what.

right as you took a bite out of your food, you felt the air next to you shift. someone had sat down next to you. out of habit you turned towards the person, believing it to be pansy. you were ready to tell her newest drama that you had overheard while sitting alone.  

you quickly swallowed your words in. it wasn’t pansy at all who came to sit next to you, it was nott. theodore nott. 

“oh,” you said, surprised. not being able to help the confused waver in your voice. “hello?” 

theo only nodded. he interpreted your confusion as disappointment. the poor slytherin was close to standing up and walking away again, he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

obviously he was wrong.

at the same time, your mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour as well. when you looked down the table [at the same time as theo] you spotted a very proud looking pansy nodding her head. she was encouraging theo to stay where he was.

but it your eyes, it  was the proof you needed, it was pansy who asked him to sit next to you. he didn’t want to sit there.

obviously, you were wrong.

tuesday

your books dug painfully into your arm as you finally exited the defence against the dark arts classroom. after what felt like hours, you were finally ready to spend your free time lying down on your comfortable bed. if it wasn’t for the wall you had just bumped into. though it was surprisingly fleshy and smelled really nice.

slowly you looked up and met the eyes of the italian slytherin.

“sorry,” you apologised at once, shuffling backwards again. your gaze shifted back to the ground. 

theo smiled slightly at how cute you looked. 

“you’re going to the common room?” he asked.

“yeah,” you answered, building up the courage to look up once again. 

“alright,” he answered simply. without any other words being exchanged, he walked down the hallway, his hands safely secured in the pockets of his trousers.

you stayed behind, confused as to what the point of that conversation was.

abruptly, theo stopped and turned to look at you. 

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, void of emotions.

“what do you mean?” you asked him, still just as confused.

“i’m walking you to the dorm,” he said, like it was obvious. “what does it look like?”

“well,” you quickly caught up to him. “not like that,”

the little hike started quite rough. both of you were awkward and didn’t really know what to say. but once you brought up the lesson you had. the conversation seemed to just flow perfectly. not once was there a moment of silence and for the first time, you swore you heard him laugh. 

it was so great that you were even sad when you saw the door to the common room. you didn’t want the conversation to end but it had to.

wednesday

theo had had a rough day. in two days, slytherin was playing against gryffindor. their team leader has been forcing more and more training sessions on the players than ever before.

the slytherin loved quidditch. the wind in his face, the speed that made his heart race every time. the feeling he got when he heard the other slytherins cheering for him was amazing. a nice added bonus was also seeing you in the stands. as a proud friend of theirs, you were there for every match, no matter the weather. and god, did he think that you looked amazing in green. it would have been even better if it was his jersey you were wearing, not some random other green thing you owned.

he followed his other team members inside the common room. his boots dragged over the floor as he left behind a trail of dirt and mud. it was cold outside and it had been raining and snowing at the same time which made the landscape very muddy and clad with not so pretty looking snow.

while the others were long gone up the steps and into their respective dorm rooms, theo stayed behind. He stared at a figure curled up on the couch, a book lay long forgotten on their lap. at once he recognized the person.

softly, theo made his way over. his hands grabbed the book on your lap. he made a mental note of which page you were on, before closing it softly and placing it on the coffee table. 

he had thought about waking you up. telling you that your neck was going to hurt in the morning but he couldn’t get himself too. you’d be too surprised that it was him worrying about you and not pansy or someone else.

he straightened out his back again, looking around the room for something he could put over you. the slytherin dungeons were notorious for getting really cold, especially at night. 

he didn’t spot anything. so without a second thought, he placed his broom down on the ground and started taking off his jacket. 

he bent down a second time to place it softly over your shoulder.

being seemingly happy with his work, he picked up his broom again and made his way down to his own bedroom.

he found it very difficult to sleep though.  his mind kept him up by showing him the image of you asleep over and over again.

♡ taglist @alwayslatetothefandoms | @belle-blue | @fmit37cass | @l4venderia | @mxryxmfooty | @myunperfektstorys | @pleasingregulus| @raven-kroe | @vratune

if at any point you want to be removed from or added to my taglist, feel free to send me an ask! ♡ in bold couln't be tagged

♡ banner credit @/strangergraphics

[starspyder]

𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘕𝘦𝘢𝘵 // 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

Summary: Dean Winchester is a hardened man. While he would love to, he can’t maintain a proper relationship due to his line of work. With how much of a sweetheart you are, Dean finds it almost impossible to keep you at an arm’s distance.

Warnings: implied age gap but it's not fully mentioned (reader is 27, Dean is 40 in this if ur curious), moderate angst, AQUAPHOBIA WARNING (almost-drowning), witches, canon-typical violence, Dean saves you hehe, fluff, lowkey grumpy x sunshine, Dean is in denial and thinks you deserve better than him, self-hatred, guilt on Dean’s part, you’re both into each other but he’s so scared of hurting you, Southern!Reader bc i said so hehehe, Dean is YEARNING

Gif from Pinterest

Word Count: 1462

Dean would never consider himself soft. Sure, he was good with kids, but only because he basically had to raise Sam by himself. Those experiences in his own childhood slipped from his hands like sand in an hourglass, and that little ball of softness went right with it. 

Until one case in Louisiana, when it practically fell right into his arms. 

He and Sam had been there tracking a coven of witches in New Orleans, like something straight out of American Horror Story. Based on the news reports, the victims were all friends or family of one of the suspected witches– likely her initiation into the group, to prove she was worthy. A young girl had gotten caught in the crossfire, simply because she was roommates with one of them, and accidentally led the Winchesters right to the coven. 

He’d seen you right before they began the real hunt, having gone back to your house for a final round of questioning. Truthfully, he’d gone by to flirt his way into checking the house for any hex bags, but your witchy roommate was good about keeping it out of her living space. When he didn’t find anything, he couldn’t seem to deny your offer for a cup of coffee, while you did your best to inquire about the case. 

“Why do you think Rebecca is involved?” You asked, somewhat nervously. 

You sat across from Dean as he sat on the couch, cross-legged in a papasan chair, one hand tapping your thigh nervously and the other holding your floral patterned mug. 

“We’re just trying to rule her out as a suspect, Ma’am. As soon as we do that, the sooner we can get to figuring out what’s been happening around here.” He had reassured you. “Are you sure you haven’t been noticing any irregularities in her routine?” 

“We have each other on some tracking app, just to be safe, y’know? She tells me that she leaves her job at 7:30 every Thursday, which is a fifteen minute drive from here. Rebecca would always tell me when she should be home, just in case anything happened,” You sighed. 

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he waited patiently for you to continue. 

“About three months ago, she just kinda’ stopped doin’ it. She’s been going out a lot more than normal, with a big group of girls– met ‘em at work, she said.” “Do you know where they’ve been going?” 

“Mostly just to clubs around town. I checked one day because she hadn’t been home all night and I was worried. Her last location was some place near Lake Pontchartrain, a few miles deep into the woods. I tried finding it online, but nothing turned up. Rebecca hates being outside, she hates camping and all that stuff, so there’s no reason for her to be there.” 

“Do you happen to have an exact location?” 

Your head shook. “It’s a big area, not a lot of cell towers.” 

Dean leaned forward and took your hand, which had still been tapping against your leg. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, Sweetheart.” The next night, a Thursday, Sam and Dean had tracked the coven down to some ritual spot in the middle of the forest. It didn’t take them long, considering that half a mile out, they could hear terrified cries for help. 

They found you, tied to a tree and begging for your life as the witches teased and taunted you– even the girl who you told them you considered your best friend. 

“You know, Y/N, you’re just too sweet sometimes. You even let an entire coven slip under your nose, because you couldn’t think for a second that your best friend would ever hurt you.” Rebecca sneered, kneeling in front of you and tracing the swell of your cheek with a knife.

“Please, Becca, don't hurt me, I won’t tell anyone!” You cried, tugging against the ropes that cut into your wrists. 

Dean was ready to jump out and kill her right then, but Sam’s arm across his chest kept him at bay. For now. “Don’t hurt me! Please, spare me. Killing you is the key to getting everything I’ve ever wanted! You’re the one who kept telling me to do what I wanted for once!” Dean watched as the large bonfire cast an orange glow over your terrified features, and his chest ached that he couldn’t quell that fear. It made him think back to Lisa, how much he cared for her. Only after a week, wasDean absolutely enamored with you. 

It didn’t take long for the brothers to swing into action, killing the witches with surprising ease. They were plenty in number, but their skill couldn’t rival the brothers’ experience. 

As Sam cut your ropes, Dean was chasing after Rebecca as she chanted out a string of Latin. By the time he killed her, the damage had been done and you were writhing on the forest floor, water coming out of your mouth like there was a well in your lungs. 

You collapsed into Dean’s arms, grasping at your throat as your eyes watered, chest heaving through the pain. 

“Find the fucking bag!” Dean yelled, maneuvering you on your knees, face pointed at the ground as you drowned in open air. Sam dropped to the ground, fumbling through piles of leaves and dirt to find the offending item. In the scramble, the hex bag was kicked near the fire, causing Dean to yank his gun out and shoot it, breaking the spell. 

You gasped for breath like a fish out of water as you coughed up the last of the water wheezing and panicking from the fear. “It's okay, you’re safe.” Dean comforted, holding you to his chest as your body was wracked with sobs.

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” 

When they were leaving town, Dean made one last stop to visit you in the hospital where you were recovering. 

“How are you feelin’, Sweetheart?” He asked, sitting next to your hospital bed. The doctors had decided to keep you for observation for a few days, citing potential damage to your lungs. 

“Like hell,” You said with a grin. “Y’all headin’ off?” 

Dean nodded. “Gotta head back home. Do you have anywhere you’re planning on going once you’re out of this dump?” 

“Not really. I don’t have any family I’m close to, so nobody to couch-surf with. I’m definitely leavin’, though. ‘M not quite sure where I’ll end up.” 

He could hear the tinge of sadness in your voice. He knew what it was like to not have a family, a place to call home. He knew it all too well. 

“Come with us.” 

The rest was history. 

Dean couldn’t help but think back to that day often. How lucky he was to have saved at least one life that day. Your life. 

He often felt dirty. You were a bright young girl, who could’ve had a great future, had you not been caught up in the mess of their lives. Not once did you ever complain, going with the flow and learning what you could to help them. You were so selfless, almost to a fault; you put up with his temper, his yelling, and when he was feeling particularly annoying. You helped clean his wounds when he was hurt, and when he was once sick, you made him tomato and rice soup, that tasted just like what Mary would make when he still held his innocence. 

Dean took his whiskey neat, while you stuck to those same girly cocktails that Sam swore he didn't like.

You were too good to be tarnished by the likes of Dean Winchester. 

Dean would always be an eternally bitter man who was constantly angry at something. He rose early due to incessant nightmares, drinking black coffee at three in the morning to stave off his near constant exhaustion. When those nightmares were about you, as they often were, nowadays, he would poke his head in your bedroom just a few doors down, his heart rate calming at how soft you looked, wrapped up in your blankets and a small light on your desk casting a warm light around the room. 

Your skin would always glow under the light, illuminating your features and the curve of your nose, how your hair fell into your face and how you would let out a wistful sigh every so often. 

You were such a stark contrast to the man who stood in your doorway almost every night. If Dean was marble, you were a flower that could be crushed under it. He was the knife, you were the sacrificial lamb. No matter what universe, Dean would ultimately be your demise, just like everyone else in his life. 

As he would gently close the door, he would take one last look at you and whisper one sentence. 

“You’re too sweet for me.”

[gothic-thoughts]

A Different Option

FIRST LES FIC 🤩🥳🎉(yes i'm bi)

Mikasa Ackerman x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Cowgirl!Mikasa, Farmgirl!Reader, Meet Ugly

CW: country accent (sry in advance), flirting

Word Count: 1462 (give or take)

"Whoa girl!"

Despite the woman's words, the horse gallops a little closer, stopping just in time in front of making you scream and jump back, dropping your bucket of milk. Your shriek makes the steed whinny loudly and stand on its hind legs, tossing the woman off its back with a loud thud and grunt before running off and attempting to hide behind a tree no less than 30 feet away. You try to calm your racing heart as you walk over the woman as she gets up.

“What... the hell is your problem...!?”

The woman looks up at you, groaning as she grabs her cowboy hat and slowly gets to her feet. Her dark hair falls into her face, and she pushes it away before putting on the hat with a frustrated sigh.

"My problem? You the one who jumped in front of my damn horse!"

“Wha- jumped?! I ain't jump nowhere! You damn near ran me over!”

She rolls her eyes and dusts off her pants. "Ran you over? It's not my fault you weren't payin’ attention to where you were going. You lucky I didn't just trample you under my horse's hooves!"

“And you lucky I don't have you thrown in jail for trespassin'!”

"Trespassing?” She crosses her arms, “Don’t be ridiculous, I was riding through the field, not your property."

“This ‘field’ is my pa's property! You ain't see that big house up there?”

"Oh, please. I wasn't that close to the house. And there wasn't any sign saying the field was private property."

“It's on the fence spokes out front, cowgirl. You woulda seen it if you wasn't just ridin’ through grass and stayed on the damn trail.”

She sneers, pointing a finger. "Don't you sass me, girl. I can ride through wherever I please. Just because you work here doesn't give you the right to order me around."

Using your finger, you push her finger away. “Uh, that's exactly what I can do. Cuz unless ya wanna deal wit my pa and his shotgun, you gon deal wit me.” You flick the front of her cowboy hat, “And I promise you, miss lady, this is me bein' cordial.”

The dark-haired woman's eyes narrow despite the smirk on her face, clearly unaffected by your threat.

"Oh, I like you."

You pauses. “Wha- what, now?”

She chuckles and steps closer to you, her smirk turning into a smug grin. "Ya got some fire in you with a pretty face to go... and that's somethin' I appreciate..."

“Flattery ain't gettin' you nowhere, stranger.”

She laughs, stepping around you to lean against a tree trunk. "Is that right, sweetheart? Well, I guess I'll just have to find another way to win you over."

“Not before an apology. And a way to make it up to me after spillin' all this milk.”

The woman glances at the white puddles soaking into the dirt. “No use cryin’ over it, right?”

“I’m serious.”

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry for almost running you over. And I'll make it up to you, I promise. Name your price."

“Well since ion wanna get into trouble, you're gonna ride into town for me and pick up some milk for me to fill these buckets.”

She smiles and gives you a sarcastic salute. "Yes, ma'am. I'll gallop straight to the store and get you some fresh milk. Anything else I can do for you on my way? Shovel some manure and feed the pigs?"

“No, already did that before you rode all over my property and nearly killed me.”

She sighs and nods, feigning a sincere look. "Right, im sure. My apologies again for ruinin’ your hard work. I'll be sure to ride nicely as I go on my milk-fetchin’ quest."

“You got a name, miss?”

"Why you wanna know? You gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout me while I'm gone?"

“Maybe. Also to make sure you won't just take off, I need the name of the thief to tell my pa.”

The woman laughs, walking closer to you while tipping her hat a little.

"You’re good. My name's Mikasa Ackerman. And I promise, I'll come back with that milk. I'm a woman of my word."

You smirk. “Now that's somethin' I can appreciate~”

Mikasa smiles back, stepping closer until she's mere inches away with her pretty eyes locked onto yours.

"And what's your name, darlin’? If I'm gonna be fetchin’ milk for you, it'd be nice to know who I'm doing it for."

“Name's (Y/n) (L/n).”

Mikasa looks you up and down, her gaze lingering on your body for a moment before returning to your eyes.

"Now that's a pretty name... suits you too. I'll be back with your milk, (Y/n) (L/n). And I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Likewise.”

You tug the brim of her hat down over her eyes playfully to get her to stop eyeing you. Mikasa laughs, grabbing the brim of her hat and tipping it back up to see your face again only to see you were now turned around and picking up the empty milk bucket before walking back towards the cows, hips swaying with every step. Her eyes admire every curve and dip of your figure momentarily before chuckling to herself. She uses two fingers to whistle loudly in the direction of her horse, making the less frightened animal appear within seconds, trotting towards her. With that, she hops onto her saddle and rides off towards town.

Mikasa's been gone about 20 minutes and while she was out, you sat near the cows with the buckets, pretending to be milking them just in case your pa came to check on you. The entire time you were coming up with different excuses as to why you took so long when you heard fast galloping closing in on you. You look to the trail to see Mikasa riding back this way with one hand on the reins and the other holding a basket filled with glass milk bottles. You smile and can't help but feel a wave of relief that she didn't just take off and leave you high and dry. She reins in her horse a few feet away, dismounting and walking to you with the basket.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, sweetheart. Got your milk right here."

“Oh, I'm sweetheart now?” You take the basket, “Thank ya, kindly.”

Mikasa grins and leans against a fence, watching you carry the basket of milk over to the other one.

"What? I can't give pretty girls pretty nicknames? That don't seem right to me, darlin'..."

You sit down with the milk, pouring the bottles into the bucket. “You don't even know if I got a husband.”

"Lucky bastard if you do, but judging by your ringless fingers, I'm gonna guess you don't. Am I right?"

“No, but my pa is strongly suggesting I find one. 'Preferably before he passes on' as he says.”

Mikasa scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Sounds like he's a bit eager. No offense, sugar, but I don't see the rush."

“Neither do I. I enjoy feeding the animals and riding my horse.”

"I'm guessing you love your horse more than you'd ever love some man, huh?"

“Of course, and after the ones I've met? ‘Specially the ones he thought would be good for me?” You shudder with a chuckle, “It'll be while before I find a man good enough.”

Mikasa laughs, pushing herself off the fence and approaching you slowly.

"So you're saying you've yet to find a man you deem worthy of your time and attention? How about a woman...?"

You look up at her, biting your lip in thought. “Hm... S'pose I haven't thought of that...”

"Care to test the waters a bit, then? See if there's any... potential suitors who might meet your standards?"

“Hm... Anyone you could send my way...?”

She grins, her eyes flickering up and down your body as you stand up before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, I might know someone. She's got a few flaws, but she's got a good heart. And she's very, very pretty to boot."

“Really now?”

“Yes ma’am. The prettiest grey eyes you’ll ever see~”

“Hmm, does she have manners?”

"That depends on who you ask. She can be a bit rough around the edges, she doesn't always think before she speaks... But she's always genuine. And she'd treat you like a princess."

“Ooh, I never been treated like a princess.”

"Well, that's just criminal, sugar. Every lady should be treated like royalty. You included~"

“I guess, in turn, I'd have to treat her like one.

"And what if I, I mean, she don't want royalty treatment? Maybe she enjoys being all rough and whatnot..."

“Then you'll get that instead, cowgirl.”

"What, me? No, no, this is for her of course."

You tug the brim of her hat down over her pretty grey eyes playfully.

[maxiroff]

I guess your not who I thought you were. Part 2 ~ Natasha Romanoff

Summary: How will Natasha fix the thing that meant the most to her? After all she was the one to ruin it in the first place.

I recommend you read part one here first to understand this if you haven’t already.

Paring: Popular Natasha x bullied reader

Words: 1462

Warnings: Angst but with a happy ending this time. I think that’s all.

Note: I hope this is good for those who asked for a part two even if I couldn’t fulfill all your request.

She remembered the day like it was yesterday, the day she broke your heart. “I would never wear something as ugly as that, it's even uglier than you.” She regretted those words the moment she said them. The way she could see your bottom lip start to tremble and your eyes filling with tears. She could feel your heart shattering before her. She lost you, the only one she truly cared about, the only person she truly loved.

She tried everything, she tried calling, texting, even knocking on your door but you never answered. She knew of your mental state and if she hadn’t overheard Wanda talk about your school she would have thought you had done something, something stupid. Even the thought of never getting to see you again scares her to death. She will do everything to get you back, to prove to you just how much you mean to her, how much she loves you.

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

Once again you listened to your phone ring as you laid in your bed, same name everyday. Each time it broke your heart a little more. Everything felt meaningless, getting up from bed was one of the hardest things you'd ever done. You were tired even though sleeping was all you did.

“I love you so much my darling. You are the most valuable thing in my life and I’ll wear this as a sign of that.” How could she lie so bluntly to your face? She made you feel like the most special girl in the world. Time after time she held you as cried, laughed and slept in her arms. Time after time she told you how much she loved and cared for you. Everything felt like a lie, maybe it was. Maybe you were just a bet made by her friends. It wouldn't surprise you, you were already the biggest joke in school. “I love you” you could hear her voice over and over again.

You were so stuck in your head you didn’t notice another person in the room until she was curled up against you, holding you in her arms.

“Hey love, you need to get up, it's been weeks since it happened.”

Wanda’s voice sounded almost like a void, which she noticed, trying to bring you back to reality by pressing you harder against her body.

“I know it has been, I just feel so paralyzed, I can't even look at my own phone without having some kind of flashback, how am I supposed to face her.” Even now you could feel your eyes blurring as Wanda tightened her grip around you.

“Well it certainly won't get better by laying her all day. So as your best friend and roommate I am making the hard decision for you and taking you back to school”

“No” “Yes” “No” “Yes, you don't get a say in this Y/N. You can not let this ruin the rest of your life” You know she had a point, you couldn’t just put your life on paus, that's not how it works.

“Fine, I’ll go.” “Yesss” Wandra spoke excitedly as she almost squeezed you to death.

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

All eyes were on you, by now the whole school knew what happened between you and Natasha. You reach back for the hood on hoodie bringing it over your head trying desperately to shield yourself from prying eyes. The floor suddenly became very interesting. So interesting you didn't notice you walked right into the person you were trying to avoid and dropped all your books in the process.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry I wasn’t looking and- “ The words caught in your throat when you looked up to see who it was. While your heart told you to embrace her and try to get her back, even though you did nothing wrong, your instincts told you to run as fast as you could. You tried to do the latter but as soon as you bent down to pick up your book Natasha did the same.

“Let me help you, it was my fault anyway.” she said as she reached for the books making your hands touch at the top of the books. You quickly moved out of the way as if her touch burned your skin. The anger burned through your body as you got flashbacks of the loving feeling her touch used to bring you. “No thanks, wouldn't want you to be seen with someone like me” you said, turning to walk away as fast as you can with the books in your arms.

“Wait please Y/N” your hear behind you as she grabs your arm tight, keeping you with her. “Did you at least get my flowers?” She sounded desperate as if you actually meant something to her. And how could you forget the flowers? She sent you a beautiful bouquet of blue and purple hyacinths, the flowers signifying constancy, regret and sincerity. She had also sent a handwritten note stating how sorry she was, how much she loved me and how she was going to fix everything. But how can you fix something that is so destroyed and broken beyond repair.

“I did” you said in a strict voice glaring at her. Your tone making her heart ache more than it already was. You had never spoken to her in such a cold way and it scared her more than anything. “And?”

“And what? What do you want me to say huh? That I forgive you just like that, because you gave me flowers. That's not how it works. How could I ever trust you again after what you did?” While Natasha’s heart broke at the tears welling up in your eyes you became even more furious at the thought of Natasha seeing you cry like some weak idiot. She took the hand that you weren’t holding the books in. Softly stroking the upper part of your palm as a way to calm you down.

“Please, let me prove it to you, that you can trust me. Please, I’m begging you. You're all I have, I can't lose you”. A tear slowly rolled down her cheek. She had already experienced what it was like to lose you once and she wouldn’t survive it again. To never be able to hold you tight against her while watching a movie, never be able to hear you laugh again, never get to kiss your soft lips again or to be intimate in any way. It was a thought worse than death.

“How? How can you do that?”

“Like this” she said as you suddenly found her lips pressed against your own, her hands finding their way to your hair and jaw keeping you in place. You books falling once again to the floor at the surprise. It was like in the movies, the sound around you from other students all but forgotten, like it was just you and her. Like the whole world stopped and no one besides you and Natasha mattered in that moment. Your tears overflowing by the overwhelming feeling of finally having her lips against yours again. Unfortunately the moment ended when you pulled away filing your lunges with some much needed air. That's when you looked around and noticed everyone looking at you with a stunned look on their faces. In that moment she showed you she wasn't ashamed or afraid to show you off to anyone, fuck them and their opinions.

“Please” Her eyebrows furrowed together and you could see the look of desperation in her eyes waiting for a response from you. “I can’t forgive you right away Natasha, this is a start but it's going to take some time.” Those words gave Natasha relief, she knew she still had a chance.

“I understand and I will do anything to earn your trust back.” Her hand trails down your arm and softly squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Do you” you said as you looked deep in her eyes. “Do you really understand? You broke me Nat and it’s going to take a lot of effort to heal me again”

“I know” You could hear the regret and shame in her hushed whisper.

“But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.” And you actually believed her this time. You could see it in her facial expression and her vibrant green eyes. They're not wrong when they say that the eye is the window to your soul. “Okej, then you can continue to prove it when you pick me up for dinner today at six”. The smile spreading across her face could light up a whole room.

“I will, thank you for giving me a second chance you won't regret it”.

And she was right. You didn’t regret it, not for a moment.

Taglist: @newawakening9 @fanfictioniseverything @username2335 @yourmamacom @wizardofstories

[scenteddelusion5]

A Daring Creature - Part 4

Zestial x fem reader angel

Note: I at first wanted it to ba a longer chapter but I like the way it ended right here. I felt adding to it would make the sweet moment, like, POP less. If that makes sense?

Word count: 1462

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Two months went by, every other day did Zestial take Y/n out to explore the pride ring. The two grew closer and closer, he got enamoured by her antics and she started to appreciate his calm and stoic personality, even though she also liked to rile the demon up sometimes.

The new cloaked stranger that was always with Zestial did not go unnoticed by the masses. Demons either were too afraid to get involved or wanted to know everything about the girl, the latter of which were mostly fellow overlords.

It started to become more and more difficult to keep Y/n away from people like Alastor and Vox, avoiding them became a daily struggle. Zestial almost wanted to keep Y/n inside for a few weeks so the fuss would die out but after seeing how her face immediately lost her shine and became saddened, he scratched that idea. And thus they continued the hide-and-seek game.

And Zestial had to admit, he was pretty good at it. That was until one day the two were walking down the street and saw Alastor walking around the corner. Without a second to think, Zestial turned to two around to walk the other way, only to see Vox and Valentino on the other side.

He quickly grabbed Y/n by the arm and dug into an alleyway. If he remembered it correctly, he was pretty sure there was a backway entrance to Carmine's home there. Finding the door, they swiftly made their way inside without the overlords seeing them.

"I'm getting sick of having the hide every time we see one of them," Y/n complained, "I wish they would just leave me alone."

"I understand, however, we can not afford one of those finding out thy secret." Zestial straightened his own cloak.

"Zestial?" Carmilla walked into the little hallway. "It isn't like you to visit unannounced."

"Mine own deepest apologies Carmilla," Zestial greeted his old friend, "it was an emergency."

"I see." She looked Y/n up and down again, a hint of disapproval could be found in her stare. "Come in, now that you're here I would like to discuss something with you."

Y/n was about to follow the two overlords into another room, when Carmilla stopped her.

"I would like to discuss this alone." Her tone changed from disapproving to downright hostile. "Sit still and stay here, do you think you can accomplish it this time or should I call in someone to watch you like a pet?"

"I'll be fine," Y/n answered while gritting her teeth.

As soon as the two overlords made it to the office, Zestial gave the woman a glare. "Yond wast uncalled for Carmilla."

"It is true. You've been prancing this girl around town like a pet, showing everyone one of your weak links and for what?" She questioned, "we both know there would be easier and safer ways to go about holding up your end of the deal."

"I hast mine own reasons for doing this," he argued back.

"What reasons? Because of your deal you can ask anything of this girl, there is no need to butter up to her so she'll agree to spy on the heavens for you. She'll HAVE to agree!" She took a few breaths to calm down. "As long as you haven't decided why you are doing all this, I can't support you. I won't do anything against you but I can't risk my people's and my safety for a plan you yourself may sabotage."

"Carmilla, I greatly appreciateth thy concern and opinion, however, this is the way I hath chosen to handle mine own planeth." Zestial stood up and made his way to the door. "So thee and I shall not beest meeting eachoth'r for a some timeth."

"Unfortunately yes," the other overlord agreed.

Y/n had been sitting on a small chair in the hallway, brooding. How dare that bitchy overlord woman call her a pet? Who does she think she is? It's true that Carmilla was smart, strong, powerful and a badass business woman... But still, she couldn't just talk to others that way! ....Or maybe she could? Y/n was in hell after all, things like equality and basic respect for others didn't exist here, something Zestial had shielded her from.

Such thoughts plagued the angel's mind

If he had been walking through the streets with Carmilla, all if this wouldn't be happening... Imagining Zestial and the other overlord walking around, laughing, going on outings, it twisted Y/n's stomach. It was the unfamiliar, sickening feeling of jealousy.

That's when Zestial appeared back in the hallway with a scowl on his face, one Y/n had been able to draw out many times with her stunts. However, unlike before, she felt something heavy on her heart.

"Alloweth us wend." Zestial didn't give her glance as left the building, assuming the angel would follow him, which she did.

The two walked the streets in silence. Before Y/n had wanted to propose going to that lovely park with the flowers again but she was afraid their moods would just sour the good memories she had there. Instead she just looked down at the pavement and wandered behind Zestial aimlessly.

The overlord was barely paying attention to where he was going. All he could focus on were Carmilla's words ringing in his ears. It's true that all of this could be done easier but going around town with y/n was a good way to build up trust and a relationship with her. That he needed because, well because...

He needed it. He decided, not letting himself ponder further on the subject, too afraid of what he would find. Instead he noticed the unusual lack of disruption from the angel.

Looking back, he noticed Y/n. She was looking sad, hiding under the cloak and big hood. Zestial could barely see the girl's face. Had Carmilla's comment really bothered her so?

"Doth not beest bothered, Y/N," he spoke up, "I doth not bethink of thee as a pet. Carmilla was simply trying to behold out for me and becameth a did bite too hostile towards thee in the processeth."

"So, you aren't mad at me?" She asked in almost a whisper.

"I couldst never be angry with thee."

Y/n's face lightened up after hearing that. "Really? That's a very dangerous statement you just made there," she taunted.

"I am sure." Zestial had a small but sincere smile on his face. "I doth not maketh false statements."

"Alright then mister tall, dark and spidery, I'm taking your hat!" She jumped up and tried to grab his hat but was unable to reach it.

"Absolutely not." Zestial commented as Y/n made several more attempts to reach it, all of which the overlord was able to avoid.

"What's with the stern tone? I thought you just said you would never get mad at me?" She smirked.

It was truly a sight to behold, first the two were almost dancing around each other as the anger was trying to steal his hat and now she was on her tippy toes staring up at him. The sight made Zestial's heart beat faster.

"No one hast did dare to challenge me in such ways thee doth." Zestial blushed slightly. "Thou art a truly daring creature, Y/n."

"It's called banter." Y/n was swiftly able to snatch the hat off as the overlord had put his guard down.

"Banter?"

"Yes, banter." The angel was adjusting the hat, fiddling with the hem and turning it slightly. "Maybe you should buy a dictionary."

Zestial chuckled at the way his hat was clearly too big for her. "I owneth enough dictionaries."

"A modern one, I mean."

"Anon, thou art very much pushing it."

Having noticed how tired Y/n was, the overlord decided to bring her back home. They had a long day and he had to work on a few of his papers again. Zestial had to admit, he had been neglecting his duties a bit.

Zestial was sitting in his office. The old clock on the wall read 3 am. It had been a while since he had to work this late but it was the price he had to pay for his daytime outings. It did give him time to reflect on the eventful day.

"Edward." The overlord called upon his contractee.

The small demon appeared immediately. "Yes, sir?"

"How is Y/n faring?"

"She ate well and is now sound asleep," he reported, "would you like me to wake her up?"

"Alloweth her to sleep" Zestial sighed, "prithee wend out and buyeth a dictionary for me."

"A dictionary?" Edward mumbled to himself. "A particular preference? I heard the Store for Old Books and Testaments has acquired an old dictionary."

"No, I wanteth a modern one."

"A mode-"

"Yes."

"I'll see to it sir."

Part 5 - unfinished

I was finally able to work in the title!!!

Masterlist/Request guidelines

Taglist: @sirenetheblogger

[ashthewaterghoul]

Are You Really Okay? - A DewTom One Shot

They tried to lean forwards for another kiss, sliding forward off the bed to straddle Dew. “No, Phantom. I called red.” Dew said while wriggling out from under Phantom. The hurt in Phantom’s eyes carved a hole in Dew’s chest. “You’re always so good for me, my perfect girl.” He cupped their tear and snot striped face in his hands, “But I’m not comfortable doing anything right now. Not until you tell me what the problem is.” “It’s not me who has a fucking problem!” Phantom blurted out, practically shouting it and they both froze. Phantom never raised their voice. Or, What Dew and Phantom thought was going to be their average hotel night whilst on tour, turns into a much needed conversation neither will soon forget.

Words: 1462

Rating: Mature (it does start off spicy)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, self-harm (discussed not shown), starts spicy but leads elsewhere, safeword use, they/them Phantom, confrontations, Phantom wears a dress and also gets called a 'good girl', grief/mourning, Dew and Phantom need hugs, scars.

A/n: Both Dew and Phantom's anatomies are left ambiguous here because ultimately, it doesn't matter. It can be whatever you want! Mind the tags and enjoy!

Title taken from 'Are You Really Okay?' by Sleep Token. I would say it does sort of set the vibe for the story as well.

~~~

    Dew didn’t know what city they were in, and his brain was too fuzzy to remember how Papa had addressed the crowd just hours before. It was their day off tomorrow, so they were in a hotel tonight. The pack had been out clubbing, and after many intoxicating substances, they all split off to make the most of the space and privacy that a hotel afforded but a tour bus did not.

    Dew had been staring at Phantom all day. From the moment he noticed them wearing one of Rory’s crop tops to soundcheck, their lovely little curves as they warmed up and seeing that nimble body on stage. When they all showered and changed for their night out, Dew nearly went weak in the knees when he saw Phantom in a tight little black dress that started just under their armpits and ended just below their butt.

    So, Dew didn’t know what city he was in, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was that Phantom was finally under him in the hotel room.

    Both still fully clothed and hands flying all over each other’s bodies. Their lips were melding together in a filthy kiss that was more fang and tongue than anything, Phantom desperately gripping handfuls of Dew’s black dress shirt which he had purposefully left rather open the whole night, his tattoos and piercings on display for all to see and it had achieved its goal of driving Phantom mad.

    “Calm down, Bug, I’m not going anywhere.” Dew chuckled against Phantom’s lips.

    Phantom whined, “Please. Need you.” they said, untucking Dew’s shirt out of his waistband and trying to undo what few buttons he did actually fasten.

    “I’ve got you, baby. Gonna take good care of you, yeah?” Dew said, moving to kiss down Phantom’s neck and purposefully focusing on a spot in the junction of their neck and shoulder, intent on leaving a mark there.

    When Phantom had finished with the final button, Dew helped get the shirt off his shoulders and thrown in a heap on the floor. He pulled back a moment to start working on his belt, and Phantom’s legs wrapped tight around his waist.

    “No, don’t leave me.”

    Dew saw a certain desperation in Phantom’s eyes that he usually only saw when they had been going for a while or doing more intense scenes, and this was neither.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    “Phantom.” Dew threw his belt to the floor and cupped one side of their jaw in his calloused palm, “Are you okay? What’s your colour, Bat?”

    “Green, so fucking green. Please, need you.” Phantom said immediately.

    “You’ll tell me if that changes, yeah?” Dew asked, face fully serious, no amount of anything would ever stop Dew from making sure they were comfortable.

    “Yes, now please-“ Phantom cut themself off by launching their mouth back against Dew’s causing him to chuckle low in his throat.

    Dew rolled up what little of Phantom’s dress covered of their lower half, providing a more direct point of contact for the two. Phantom started panting and squirming against Dew, making his own interest pique. Phantom was also letting delicious little moans and whimpers fall out and Dew swallowed as many as he could. He put a hand on each side of Phantom’s torso and bracketed them in. Phantom’s hands went to each of Dew’s forearms and they kept letting little whines fall out as their claws skirted across the uneven skin.

    “So fucking gorgeous. All for me.” Dew said.

    “Yours, all yours.” Phantom affirmed, their feet kicking at Dew’s waistband to get it to budge.

    “Be patient, Bat. I’ve waited all day for this, we don’t want it to be over too quick do we?”

    “Fuck, please! Need you. Don’t ever want to go a second without you, I can’t. Please!” Phantom said, tears starting to bead on their lashes.

    Dew’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight, knowing something was wrong, but Phantom’s deft fingers were already fussing with Dew’s button and zipper, pushing right against where he’d been burning for them all day.

    “Bug-“

    “Shut up, please. Want- need you. Dewy, please.” Phantom was practically sobbing. And Dew sobered immediately, anxiety churning deep in his stomach and smothering the flames that had been steadily growing all day.

    “No. Bug, no. I’m calling red.”

    Dew backed away enough so his core was out of Phantom’s reach.

    “No! Dew, please. I need you so bad.” They were sobbing now.

    “Not when you’re like this.” Dew said, grabbing Phantom’s hands and bringing them to sit up on the edge of the bed, fixing the short dress back down and cover up what little it could. He knelt down on the floor before them, “Something’s up with you, what is it?”

    “Nothing, I promise!” Well that wasn’t convincing at all, “I’m just horny, I just need you, please! Wanna be good for you, wanna be your good girl.”

    They tried to lean forwards for another kiss, sliding forward off the bed to straddle Dew.

    “No, Phantom. I called red.” Dew said while wriggling out from under Phantom.

    The hurt in Phantom’s eyes carved a hole in Dew’s chest.

    “You’re always so good for me, my perfect girl.” He cupped their tear and snot striped face in his hands, “But I’m not comfortable doing anything right now. Not until you tell me what the problem is.”

    “It’s not me who has a fucking problem!” Phantom blurted out, practically shouting it and they both froze. Phantom never raised their voice.

    “Wh- what do you mean?” Dew asked, his hands dropping from their face.

    Phantom took a deep breath, steadying their voice against their tears, “We’ve all noticed. It feels like we’re watching you wither away. I can’t lose you.” They rambled.

    Dew’s mind immediately understood. He wasn’t exactly making any effort to hide it, but he was hoping no one would notice.

    “I can’t help it.” Dew said, backing away in shame as his arms wrapped around his own torso.

    “So let us help. Don’t leave us, please.” Phantom begged, crawling over to be face to face with Dew and taking his hand, holding it tight to their chest and putting all his fresh little scars on full display.

    “I’m sorry, it’s the only thing that feels right. It’s the only pain I can control.”

    Dew’s soul had been in a torrent of hurt since Aether was forced back to Hell, and it had taken a long time for Dew to even accept simply living in the same space as Phantom. But he had gotten over it and gotten better. Or so he thought. It was about a month into the tour when Dew got off stage and instinctively searched for Aether. And in a terribly glorious moment where he completely forgot, he panicked and spiralled thinking that something had happened to Aether, terrified that he couldn’t see his mate. Of course something had happened, it was just months prior.

    Since then, Dew had fallen back into his habit of self-harming. He didn’t really know what the goal was, if he wanted to live on, if he just wanted some pain to remind him he was alive. It was just the only thing he could think of doing to fill the void that Aether had left.

    “You can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.” Phantom said, “I finally have you, you’re in my very soul. I won’t loose you.”

    Dew choked on his tongue as he felt the unbridled emotions filling the shitty little hotel room in who-fucking-knows-where.

    “Please, Dew.” Phantom begged, “Stop hurting yourself. It’s hurting all of us too.”

    And if that didn’t cut deeper then any blade Dew had put to his skin.

    “Bat, I-“

    “We all love you.” Phantom said, before putting a gentle kiss to one of Dew’s new scars, “We’re all here for you.” Another kiss, “Just let us help you.” Another kiss.

    Phantom went along Dew’s arms and torso and kissed each and every mark, laving it with the love Dew hadn’t shown himself for a while.

    “I’m sorry, Bat. I’m so sorry.” Dew said, pulling Phantom in for a bone crushing hug that they returned. It felt as though they thought he would fade away at any moment, and that just made Dew hold on tighter.

    “I’ll try, I promise. I’m sorry.” Dew repeated like a mantra.

    “We all love you so much, Dewy. I love you so much.” Phantom cried, kissing whatever they could reach without loosening their hold, “Please never forget that.”

    “I’ll try, I promise I’ll try.” Dew swore.

    And he meant it. With all his heart, with all the love he had for his pack, current and lost, he meant it. He could only hope he wouldn’t be too weak to let everyone down.

One shot master post can be found here!

[vodika-vibes]

tysm for answering my question about corr! I'm so happy to be your first request for him :D could you please write something about reader being anxious about meeting his family on mandalore to the point of not being able to sleep, because she's estranged from her own family? I think he'd be so sweet and comforting <3

Family Meeting

Summary: Corr has been planning on introducing you to his family for ages now, especially since you're now living together, but the closer the day comes, the more anxious you become.

Pairing: Corr Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 1462

Warnings: Anxiety, mentions of an abusive family

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: You're welcome for answering your ask! I'm more than happy to answer any questions! Thank you for sending in someone new for me to write (thought Wookieepedia was not helpful about his personality, lol). I hope you like it! I also made a new divider specifically for this story! Yay!

It’s late.

Super late.

Late enough that even your Tooka has gone to sleep, and you, rather tellingly, are still awake. Awake and in the kitchen, anxiously kneading dough to make more bread.

And, you really, really don’t need any more bread.

Tomorrow you are supposed to meet Corr’s family. And he’s so, so excited to introduce you, and you’re trying, so very hard, to be excited too. This is Corr’s family. They’re so, so important to him, and so they should be to you.

But every time you think about an actual family meeting you feel a little sick.

Annoyingly, at this point, the anxiety has grown to the point where you’re not able to sleep. Every time you try to close your eyes to get some rest, the anxiety becomes worse, and you were starting to run the risk of waking Corr, so you just got up.

Your perfect man could sleep through a bombing, you’re pretty sure, so you puttering around the kitchen shouldn’t wake him up.

The biggest problem, you suppose, is that you don’t know what a family is supposed to look like. You haven’t spoken to your own parents since you were a young teenager, and you cut the rest of your family off as soon as you turned 18 and were legally able to do so.

And you know, know, that Corr would sooner sell his prosthetic arms than introduce you to people who might hurt you. Not to mention that these are his brothers and his dad-

But you can’t just forget your family’s words. How they looked the other way when your grandmother was pushing her eating disorder on you. How they blamed you for being in the hospital when you got too sick to survive. How they forbade you from getting the medical attention you needed. How they took and took and took until there was nothing left to take.

How they blamed you when you had nothing left to give.

No. To you, family has always meant pain and hunger and cold and suffering-

But this is Corr, so, naturally, you’re going to grit your teeth and put up with it because he’s more important to you than anything. Even if it does feel a little bit like torture.

You jump at the sound of bare feet scuffing against the floor, and strong arms slide around your waist, “Cyare,” Corr whines your petname, his voice thick with sleep, “Why are you baking at 2 in the morning? People sleep at 2 in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You say, honestly, “Did I wake you?”

“I rolled over to wrap myself around you, and you weren’t there.” Corr sleepily nuzzles just under your ear, “I thought something was wrong. Not that you were trying to single handedly bake enough bread for all of Mandalore.”

You look at the bowls of rising dough, there are five of them so far, and then over at the three loaves of bread you already finished, “...I was thinking I’d make cookies next,” You admit guiltily.

He sighs, and presses a light kiss under your ear, “Cyare, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie. I know you bake when you’re worried about something.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.” He lightly pinches your waist, “Come on, cyare. Now I know something is wrong. Tell me.”

“I…you…it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb if it’s keeping you awake.” Corr replies logically.

You scowl and press the dough roughly, “How dare you use logic when I’m having an anxiety spiral.”

“Because I know you respond better to logic than emotion when you’re like this,” He kisses your cheek, “What are you so anxious about?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” He kisses your cheek again and again, and then he spins you so you’re facing him and then pulls you flush against him, and you squeak as you press your flour covered hands against his bare chest for balance.

“Sorry-”

“It’s just flour, it’ll wash off. I’ve had worse on me.” Corr replies, unconcerned, his dark eyes scanning your face, “Should I try and guess what’s bothering you?”

“You should go back to sleep-” You say with a frown.

Corr leans in and kisses the tip of your nose, “Let’s see…are you worried about the new washer being delivered at the end of the week?”

“No.” You pause, and your brow furrows, “Wait, should I be?”

“Nope. It’s all taken care of.” He trails kisses from the tip of your nose to just under your eyes, “Are you anxious about money?”

“Not today.” You grumble.

“Good, because we have more than enough,” Corr says cheerfully, before he trails his lips from under your eye to your ear, “Hm…are you worried about…the garden?”

You release a quiet laugh, “You mean the dead garden? No.”

“Yeah, we really screwed that one up, didn’t we? We’ll do better next year.” Corr promises, he kisses down your jaw, and then pulls back, “Are you worried about meeting my family tomorrow?”

Your stomach drops, and  you immediately avert your gaze, “...no.”

Corr slides his hands up your sides to press them against your cheeks, gently adjusting your head so you’re meeting his gaze, “Oh, cyare. You don’t have anything to worry about. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”

“...I highly doubt that.”

“Alright, yeah.” Corr grins, “I don’t think anyone loves you as much as I do. Because you’re so smart and kind and gentle-”

You huff and press your finger against his lips, “Corr.”

“Sorry. I just think you’re amazing and you deserve to know it.” Corr replies with a lopsided grin, “Anyway, you have no reason to be worried about my family, because they’re going to love you because I love you.”

“Corr, my own family saw me as a resource to be exploited-”

“Your family isn’t worth the air the breath,” Corr interrupts, his gaze serious, “And if I ever have the displeasure to meet the people who made you think so poorly of yourself, I’m going to introduce them to my blasters.”

“That seems excessive.”

“It really, really isn’t.” Corr disagrees, then his gaze softens, “Cyare, my family isn’t like your family. They’re not going to mistreat you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” He leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, “Would I ever introduce you to people who might hurt you?”

“You haven’t so far.” You admit.

“And I never will.”

You hesitate but you don’t say anything for a moment, and he lightly strokes your cheek with his thumb, “Cyare, do you trust me?”

“Stupid question, of course I trust you.”

“Then trust me on this. This meeting is going to go great, because if my brothers do anything to upset you I’m going to shoot them.” 

You blink at him, startled, and he flashes a sheepish smile, “I’m a little nervous about introducing you to them too. Not because I’m worried that they might hurt you, but because they know everything about me, and I’m worried that they might change your opinion of me.” He pauses, “I also may have mentioned to Kal’buir that you didn’t have the best family-”

“Corr!”

“No details. Just that you’re a little hesitant about family things, and he’ll keep everyone under control. I promise.” He tries to reassure, “I didn’t want anyone to walk in to think blind, cyare. That’s all.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that your family mistreated you, you’re still recovering from it, and that you’re prone to anxiety in new situations. That’s all. I wouldn’t betray your trust like that, cyare.”

You sigh and close your eyes, “I know. And, thinking about it, I suppose it’s not the end of the world if you tell them.” Though you don’t sound sure about it. 

Corr drops his hand back to your hip, “I won’t tell them anything until you’re ready.” He squeezes your hip gently, “Are you ready to try and sleep, cyare?”

“...yeah, I can try.”

“Good girl,” He kisses you quickly, “This time I’ll cuddle with you until you fall asleep, cyare.” Corr kisses you one more time, “And the next time you’re too anxious to sleep, tell me. I’d rather comfort you earlier so you can sleep, than for you to be stewing in your own anxiety on your own for hours.”

You duck your head, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not mad. Just worried.” Corr tilts your head back to kiss you one last time, “I love you after all.”

“I love you too.” With Corr’s help, you get all of the dough stored in the fridge, and then he drags you to bed, and curls himself around you, and finally, finally, you’re able to drift off to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat steady in your ear.

[knoepfl]

A Fleeting Fantasy

Characters:

Arthur Fleck: The troubled, lonely man yearning for connection and understanding.

Reader (You): A gentle, compassionate presence in Arthur's life—a woman who sees the beauty in his soul, though she exists only in his mind.

Trigger Warnings: Mental health themes, hallucinations, loneliness, implied depression.

Masterlist

Part 2

Words: 1462

---

Arthur first sees you on a quiet evening, sitting alone on a bench outside his apartment building. You look up and catch his gaze, giving him a small, understanding smile, one that melts through the ache he constantly carries in his chest. Unsure of what to do, he freezes, hesitant but drawn to you, this stranger who seems to know him.

You look over with gentle eyes, as if you see past the makeup and the mask he wears every day, past all the jagged pieces he tries so hard to keep hidden. “Are you all right?” you ask, voice soft and warm, cutting through the silence of the evening.

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. No one ever asks him that—no one cares. “Y-yeah,” he stammers, trying to match your kindness. “I just… I live here.”

You smile at his shyness. “Then I guess we’re neighbors.”

For the first time in a long while, he finds himself laughing softly, genuinely. There’s something about you that feels comforting, like a gentle warmth on a cold night. You introduce yourself, and he stumbles over his own name, feeling foolishly nervous.

After that first meeting, you’re always there, somehow appearing when Arthur feels his lowest. You sit together on that same bench every few days, and he talks to you in ways he’s never felt able to talk to anyone else. You listen without judgment, nodding and offering small words of encouragement, and your gaze never wavers, even when he confesses his fears, his failures, and the burdens that feel so heavy.

One night, he tells you about his job as a clown, his laughter trailing off with embarrassment. “People… they don’t really see me, you know?” he says quietly, almost ashamed to say it out loud. “I’m just… invisible to them. And sometimes I think… maybe I deserve it.”

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his, and his breath catches at the warmth of your touch. “I see you, Arthur,” you say softly, looking at him as if he’s the most important person in the world. “You’re more than you know. You’re kind. You have so much inside you that’s… that’s beautiful.”

Arthur feels tears prickle at his eyes. No one has ever spoken to him like this. No one has ever seen him this way, as someone worth knowing, worth caring for. And in this moment, he believes you.

Over time, he falls for you in the quietest, purest way. Every time he sees you, his heart races, his hands growing sweaty with nervous excitement. You laugh together, share quiet stories, and he begins to feel that maybe—just maybe—he’s worth more than he thought. He even starts to sleep a little easier, with your soft words echoing in his mind, soothing him as he drifts off.

One evening, he musters up the courage to ask, “Would you… would you go to Pogo’s with me sometime? They have comedy shows every weekend. I-I could get us tickets.” His voice trembles, both hopeful and fearful of your answer.

You smile, nodding gently. “I’d love to, Arthur.”

The night of the show, Arthur arrives early and waits eagerly at the door. He straightens his clothes, smoothing down his collar as he anxiously glances around. He waits, watches for you, his heart thudding with anticipation. But the minutes tick by, and there’s no sign of you. His mind reels, doubts flooding in, and he begins to wonder if he’s just made it all up.

But when he returns home that night, exhausted and heavy-hearted, you’re there, sitting on his sofa, waiting for him. Arthur feels a mixture of relief and confusion, unable to understand why he hadn’t seen you at Pogo’s. But you simply reach out, taking his hands in yours, and look at him with that same sweet, unwavering gaze.

“I’m here, Arthur,” you say, your voice gentle, comforting. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Arthur nods, breathing a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know why he doubted you, why he thought he might lose you. He clings to your hand, feeling a warmth he’s never known, a love that fills the emptiness inside him.

As the days pass, Arthur begins to notice strange things, moments when people stare at him as he talks to you, as if you’re not there. But he brushes it off, too afraid to question, too afraid to let go of the one good thing in his life. In his heart, you’re real—the only real thing he has.

Because even if the rest of the world refuses to see him, you do. And that, to Arthur, is all that matters.

---

After weeks of blissful companionship, Arthur had grown used to the comfort you brought him. Every day, you seemed to be there, waiting for him when he came home, listening to his stories, sharing your thoughts, and filling his life with a sense of warmth he’d never known.

But one day, he came home to silence. The apartment felt hollow, colder somehow, as if the warmth had drained from it entirely. He searched every room, calling out for you, but no soft voice answered, and no gentle presence greeted him. At first, he told himself you’d just stepped out, maybe to run an errand. He tried to wait patiently, sitting on his couch, eyes flicking anxiously toward the door.

Hours passed, and you didn’t return.

The next day, you were still gone. Arthur’s worry grew, consuming him, gnawing at his mind. You’d never left him alone like this, not for so long. The thought of you out there, somewhere in the city, all alone and unreachable, terrified him. He had to find you—he couldn’t stand another moment in this empty silence, haunted by the absence of your voice, your smile.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Arthur went to the address you’d once mentioned to him, the place you’d said was your apartment. The building wasn’t far, a modest complex tucked away on a quiet street. He walked up the stairs, each step echoing in the empty hallway as he approached the door you had described to him.

He knocked softly, then louder, pressing his ear against the door, waiting to hear your footsteps on the other side.

Nothing.

Arthur hesitated, then turned to a nearby neighbor who was unlocking his own door.

“Excuse me,” he stammered, feeling his pulse race. “Do you know if anyone lives here? She… she was supposed to be here.”

The neighbor gave him a strange look, eyebrows furrowing. “This apartment’s been empty for months,” he replied. “No one’s lived here since last year.”

Arthur felt his heart sink, a deep, crushing weight pressing down on him. "No," he mumbled, shaking his head as if the words could somehow be wrong, as if reality itself had made a mistake. He stumbled back from the door, his breath growing shallow, his mind spinning.

He staggered out of the building, barely seeing where he was going as he walked, his mind unraveling with each step. Memories of you flashed through his head—your laughter, your voice, your touch. Every moment you’d shared, every word you’d spoken to him, it all replayed in his mind, each memory more painful than the last.

But a horrible, gnawing realization took root deep inside him, clawing at his heart. You weren’t real. You’d never been real. Everything—the laughter, the kindness, the love he felt—had all been in his head. A cruel illusion, a hallucination born from his own loneliness and desperation.

He stumbled back to his apartment, feeling the weight of the emptiness, the silence pressing down on him harder than ever before. The room felt darker now, more desolate, every shadow a reminder of the void you’d left behind. The very spot where you had once sat now seemed hollow, mocking him with its emptiness.

Sinking to the floor, Arthur clutched his head in his hands, trying to push away the agony that twisted inside him. He had let himself believe in you, had let himself hope, and now he was left with nothing. The crushing loneliness that he had thought you’d filled now consumed him entirely, overwhelming him as he sat alone in the dark.

In that moment, Arthur realized just how deeply he had fallen for you, how much he had wanted you to be real. And though he knew you were gone—had never truly been there at all—he couldn’t stop himself from missing you, from longing for the warmth, the love, and the solace you’d brought him, even if it had only ever been a dream.

And so, he sat alone, haunted by the memory of someone who had never truly existed, trapped in the agony of a love that had been only an illusion.

---

[buckybuckyboo]

Masterlist

(masterlist updated on the 7/11/24)

BUCKY BARNES

one shots

Taking what's his

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/745757625134841856/taking-whats-his-word-count-1462-today-was-the

Over worked

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/735606567342309376/word-count-466-warnings-none-its-nice-and

Date night

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/762879056736911360/word-count-926-this-must-be-a-dream-right

Scent

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/749558883336486912/scent

Some TLC

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/740051450182483968/some-tlc

Bucky Barnes Drabble

where does Bucky go after missions?

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/766047500775931904/where-does-bucky-go-after-missions-warnings

Just some thoughts....

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/763089334717087744/just-thoughts-warnings-18-minors-dni-when

More thoughts https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/763174350258061312/more-thoughts-bucky-waking-from-a-nightmare

Keeping it secret

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/739172034262761472/keeping-it-secret

Spicing things up

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/738800580475109376/spicing-things-up

Pregnancy scare

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/748505862915620864/written-on-my-phone-cause-im-in-bed-and-i-dont

Good morning

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/753363771132690432/good-morning

Stucky

Tough mission

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/755267472261791744/tough-mission

The Meeting

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/758437248033292288/the-meeting

After the party

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/764779189580824576/after-the-party

Just something funny

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/765137409838104576/you-had-never-see-bucky-like-this-before-hands

The night before

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/741954468584849408/the-night-before

Let us take care of you

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/751461796153524224/let-us-take-care-of-you

Mafia Bucky series

All for him

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/762691269343494144

CEO Bucky?

The best night out

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/730626214099812352/this-has-been-the-best-night-out-you-have-had-in-a

Sheriff Lee

The good sheriff

https://www.tumblr.com/buckybuckyboo/728910526440194049/the-good-sheriff-word-count-940-sheriff-lee-x

[questions-about-blorbos]

Propaganda:

Count Vladislaus III Dracula 

❝Count Vladislaus III Dracula is the first and most powerful vampire ever known, having gained his powers and immortality by making a deal with Satan. His living self was murdered by Van Helsing in 1462 and his undead self was again killed by Van Helsing.

Dracula is shown as a very cunning and manipulative man, only interested in his personal goals. He claims to have almost no emotion such as love, fear, joy or sorrow because he has no heart, which makes him feel hollow. He only cares about himself, his brides, and his children as shown when he said to Victor Frankenstein that he was free to kill himself, as he didn't need him anymore. He hasn't shown very much attachment to his brides, for when Marishka died, he just replied that he would just have to find another one (though he did cry Marishka's name when he sensed she had been killed), but in the end he has shown that they are very important to him, as he said that everybody hates and fears him, yet his brides do not, and he did not want them to fear him. The fact Dracula thinks he feels nothing causes him to hate even himself. He is a lustful and seductive villain, as shown through his interactions with his brides and Anna Valerious. He has a deep desire to kill Anna, (the last of the Valerious line) before she destroys what he desires to create. However, this is contradicted when he is seen trying to seduce her into becoming his bride; it is unclear if he does this because of her beauty or just to kill the entire Valerious' family, though he does admire her for being "Strong... and beautiful". Likely this idea only came to him after the death of Marishka, and he saw Anna as a fitting replacement, not only becoming his new bride but also ending the Valerious line. He also enjoys toying with Van Helsing, who murdered him centuries ago. His primary goal is to bring his children to life, continue the vampiric kind, and also perhaps regain his stolen dragon insignia ring. Little is known about his human life or human personality.❞ — (Source.)

Laios Touden

❝Laios is intellectual when it comes to dealing with situations against monsters - he frequently employs insights acquired from cooking creatures to devise strategies for overcoming them, demonstrating adaptability in devising impromptu strategies. His mannerisms usually exude calmness and warmth, but his passionate talks about creatures of the night can agitate those nearby. When delving into the topic of monsters, his words pick up speed, mirroring his intense passion for the subject. Laios demonstrates a deficiency in diplomacy and interpersonal finesse, frequently expressing his viewpoints without regard for others' reactions, leading to frustration and bewilderment among peers. Yet, he emanates an inviting and embracing demeanor, effortlessly bonding with various social circles, like ogres, and eagerly anticipates forging friendships with others.

Laios is a also very strong fighter and the leader of the party. He often uses the knowledge gained from cooking monsters to develop techniques to defeat them, and is a quick thinker who comes up with full plans on the fly. He is a very calm and affable person but gets very excited when he talks about monsters, which bothers most of the people around him. He tends to speak very quickly when excited.

Laios tends to lack tact and social skills when dealing with others, often saying everything that comes to his mind to the point where it causes frustration and confusion in others. Despite this, he is extremely friendly and accepting towards others, being quick to forge friendships with other groups and even orcs, and becomes excited at the prospect of others seeing him as their friend. ❞ — (Source.)

This question was sent to our inbox and we made a separate poll in response to it. If you want to put your Blorbo in a situation of your choice and see what people think will happen, send your Blorbo and the situation in which you want to see them to our inbox and we’ll post a poll for you! (For more information, check our pinned post.)

[writingwithina]

I Miss You I'm Sorry

Pairing- Charles leclerc x reader

Content- Angst

Word Count- 1462 words

Author's Note: Hello lovely people! This is the first ever fan fiction that I've written. I would love it if you could give it a read and let me know what you thought of it.

Read part two here

It had been fate that they had actually met. Lewis had begged her to come clubbing with him and his colleagues before they had to leave for the Australian Grand Prix. Y/n had no interest in going to a club and sitting amongst a pool of sweaty bodies and the stench of alcohol. But she could not resist Lewis' manipulative attempts at trying to get her out of finishing her marketing assignment. That was the thing about someone who knew you ever since you were a baby. They knew exactly which strings to pull to get you to give into their demands. So there Y/n was in a black dress and black stilettos, sipping on a margarita and chatting with Lewis.

"I want you to meet someone", Lewis said with a bright glint in his eyes. Y/n knew this meant only one thing- trouble.

" The last time you asked me to meet someone, it ended with me in bed with a guy who loved to recite the American Constitution while having sex. "

" Oh, yeah that was a mistake on my part. But I promise I know this person personally. And I've a feeling you guys are gonna get along really well. Just give him a chance. "

Y/n was sceptical but decided to give it a chance. What's the worst that could happen?

Lewis beckoned someone over his shoulder. Y/n couldn't make out the silhouette of the person who had come over.

" Hi! I'm Charles", the person said. As he came closer Y/n could make out the outline of his blush pink lips and his dimpled cheeks. A faint pink crept up on his cheeks as they held eye contact. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds, Y/n felt the world around her stop. It was as if they were the only two people there.

Their relationship just blossomed from there on. It didn't feel real , how easy their relationship was and how much they enjoyed each other's presence. It was as if they both had found the piece in their lives they didn't even know was missing. They were each other's haven.

"Do you think we will ever get married? ", Charles had asked Y/n out of the blue one day. They were on a vacation to Ibiza. It was late in the evening and they were cuddling on the balcony of their hotel room.

" Do you want to get married? " Y/n questioned nervously. They hadn't talked about marriage before but a blissful feeling washed over her at the thought of them being married.

" Yeah… I want to marry you but in a year maybe. We are both busy with our careers right now. I want to give you your dream wedding and it wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to marry me when I know I won't be fully there for you."

Y/n couldn't believe that Charles really wanted to marry her. They had been together for a year at this point so talking about marriage was a logical step in the relationship. Still it was surprising that Charles loved her enough to want to marry her and spend the rest of their lives together.

Everyone talks about the beautiful parts of a relationship but nobody teaches you about the ugly ones. No one prepares you for the screaming matches in the middle of the night. No one prepares you for the distance that arises suddenly. It is funny how one moment Y/n and Charles were so in love and the other, they were fighting because Charles loaded the dishwasher wrong.

Neither of them knew how to deal with this, how to deal with the fights, the distance, the separation. It became exhausting for them to love one another. The love which once felt like freedom, like waking up on a Sunday morning and realising you have no school now felt like a cage, a restriction. Neither Charles nor Y/n knew how their relationship took a turn for the worse and they didn't understand how to tackle the problems. The dreams of marriage and kids and a white picket fence house seemed so far away now.

It was Charles' idea to take a break. " We are draining each other. Maybe a break would do us good " were his words. Y/n didn't question it because she knew a break would be beneficial for them. She thought that they would get back together after two-three months. Little did she know just how wrong she was.

Charles took the "break" better than Y/n. Where Y/n's days were wrapped with grief and pain of losing her partner, Charles was seen out partying and going on vacations with his friends. Y/n wondered whether Charles had felt any sadness after the break. She wondered if he too found himself reaching for her every morning or calling her name as soon as he came home only to realise she wasn't there. Because she did. She found Charles in everything she did. She missed him dearly. She missed how she forgot everything as soon as Charles had his arms around her. She missed the feeling of his kisses. She missed seeing him the first thing in the morning and the last one before she slept. She hadn't realised just how much their lives had been entwined until Charles left. But she told herself that it won't be long before they resolve their issues and get back together. Everyday she would tell herself, just a few more days and then everything will be fine.

They didn't see each other until November. The racing season was over and Lewis decided to throw a party to celebrate a great season. Y/n hadn't planned on coming but Lewis begged her and she couldn't resist him. She didn't know how she would face Charles. What would she say? It had been 6 months since they decided to take a break and he hadn't reached out to her even once. While a part of her was angry and bitter, another part of her was excited to see her love again. Maybe today they will talk at length and rekindle their relationship. Y/n arrived at the party with a racing heart and hopeful mind. She greeted the other drivers and looked for Charles. Everyone around her was apprehensive about talking about Charles to her. She felt they were hiding something from her.

Charles arrived a while later. He was talking to Pierre at the bar when Y/n spotted him. She approached him with a soft smile. She felt uneasy by the way Charles' smile dropped and instead a look of trepidation fell over his face as he saw her. As soon as she opened her mouth to say something, a brunette approached Charles.

" Mon amour where did you disappear? I have been searching for you", the brunette said to him as she softly kissed him.

Y/n left without saying anything. She felt embarrassed and stupid and angry. She sat on the swing in Lewis' garden with tears streaming down her face. It became clear to her why Charles hadn't tried to contact her.

Charles came running outside. He didn't say anything as he sat on the swing beside her.

"How long? " Y/n questioned him.

" Three months. "

" Does she make you happy? "

" Y/n, I - I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how, I-I never intended for you to find out this way. I'm so-"

"Just answer the question Charles. "

Charles took a deep breath and then whispered a quiet "yes".

Y/n wiped her tears and nodded her head. She knew she had to leave. She couldn't be near him. She stood up, wiped her hands on her dress and said, " I really loved you, you know? Even during the fights, on the days where we wouldn't speak to each other, I loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy Charles. I really am. I hope you find happiness and love in her that you couldn't in me. "

Y/n didn't wait to hear what Charles had to say. She just left. She knew it would take some time to get over him, to get over the love she once had. But she will learn to live her life without him. She will try her best to forget the eyes that became her home. She will discard the memories they shared and she will try to forget the way his voice felt when it said her name. She will grow and she will hope to find someone who loves her unconditionally. But most importantly she hopes that Charles will realise what he lost before it's too late.

[creative-frequency]

Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.2

Summary: Spending some drowsy time by the campfire with Astarion. Word count: 1462

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 2: Introductions

Yours is an odd party.

A githyanki warrior – an outright pleasure to be around if one enjoys the looming threat of decapitation, both physical and verbal.

A shady half-elf cleric, who feigns ignorance when asked more about.

A posh high elf, who claims to be a magister from Baldur’s Gate. You met briefly on the night of your grand escape from the city, but don’t really know anything about him – except that he is still unfairly beautiful.

And yourself. As far as the others know, you’re just the unluckiest sorcerer alive who happened to be visiting the city during the nautiloid attack.

All four of you are sitting around the campfire, exhausted and wary, weighing between asking or sharing more and how much to trust and say. By some degree of a miracle or insane luck, no one is injured after the day spent exploring the wilds and the campsite spot seems to be relatively safe.

“So,” Astarion begins, because of course it’s him who has to break the weary silence. “Anyone feeling like this will be our last tentacle-less night?”

The already familiar “Tch,” comes from Lae’zel. She is the driving force in your group and usually she is driving her sword through anyone’s chest who happens to stand in your way. The githyanki warrior isn’t one for idle chatting.

Your gaze wanders around the group. It is only fair that they don’t know much about you, just as you know next to nothing about them. Still, you can’t help the feeling that it will take a while to find the cure for your shared tadpole issue and in the meanwhile you’ll be travelling together. It would be for the best to start making friends.

“Would be a shame if it was the last,” you reply to Astarion as neither of the ladies seem to be in the mood for a casual chat.

“Shame? Our orifices should be bleeding and our skin sundering already,” Lae’zel says menacingly. “Although, the night is still young.”

Everyone else shares an uneasy look.

“Come morning, we need to find a way to the nearest Crèche,” Lae’zel continues.

Shadowheart scoffs. “You keep saying that, but how is that our best option?” she asks.

“My people have been fighting the ghaik for aeons. We are hardly the first ones to be infected. There are protocols for this,” Laezel explains, annoyance shining through each carefully chosen word.

“We can decide our next move in the morning,” you suggest before the two continue their ceaseless arguing. They’ve been at it for the better part of the day, ever since you helped Lae’zel escape the goblin trap.

“Fine,” Lae’zel says, “but I trust you will agree this is our only possible course of action.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes and gets up without saying another word. She is the first to retire for the night.

Lae’zel leaves soon after and you’re left sitting on a log next to the pretty, pale elf. Now that you’re alone, you become very aware of his presence next to you. You shuffle slightly further away.

“They seem to be becoming fast friends,” Astarion remarks.

You snort in a very unladylike manner. “Can’t wait to wake up in the middle of the night to watch them scrap it out.”

Both of the mentioned parties keep their tent flaps closed. The nights so far have been dry but cool, but the campfire is the only source of warmth in the middle of the woods and you’re reluctant to leave its area of effect to rest.

Absent minded, you stare into the dancing flames of the campfire and pull up the old family ring that is kept attached to a necklace. The intricate surface has darkened during the years from the lack of proper care.

“I see you never actually got rid of the ring” Astarion says and you almost drop the said item.

“Oh right, you saw it back then…” you mumble.

It’s been over five years so the details of that night are hazy at best. When thinking of your escape, your first thought is the oppressive feeling of being chased, but right after that there is also the burst of excitement, sourced by the looming freedom.

You would never tell it to Astarion, but you have sometimes wondered what became of the beautiful curly-haired elf from the tavern. And now he is here, very much sharing the largest mess you’ve ever been in your life. The tadpole hums in your head, reminding you of its presence.

“Tell me, which noble family are you from?” Astarion questions, though he doesn’t really seem interested in the answer.

“First name basis not enough for you?” you quip and run your thumb across the family crest on the ring.

“Darling, I’ve seen the headlines and that crest. I am only asking out of courtesy,” he points out.

Your mood sinks. Of course you would happen to run into someone who recognises you as a runaway noble. Knowing that Astarion is a magister in the city, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he is familiar with family crests and reads newspapers.

You draw in a long breath and sigh. “So you already know I’m a Caldwell.”

“‘The disappearance of the patriar’s daughter’ – it’s everyone’s favourite mystery,” Astarion recites with a short chuckle and paints the headline into the air in flourish motions.

“I’m sure it is, but please don’t tell the others. I’ll… tell them when the time is right,” you plead in a hushed tone. You’ll tell them if and when you know whether they can be trusted.

Astarion bows slightly. “Your secret is safe with me, my lady.”

He jests, but it still makes you smile. Reasons to smile have been few and far between during the past day.

“Thank you, though I think I like ‘potato sack woman’ better,” you say. It was the first thing that slipped out of the elf’s mouth when he recognised you at the beach. Right before you burned his dagger-wielding hand with a cantrip.

“I’m sure you do. Why did you leave Baldur’s Gate in the first place?” Astarion asks, more curious towards the answer to this question.

“Who wouldn’t love it here instead of the noisy city?” you retort and drop the ring in its chain back underneath your shirt.

Astarion scoffs. “You traded Upper City balls and gold goblets for this? Unbelievable. Yours is one of those stories the Mouth digs up whenever they have nothing else to write about.”

You try not to let the backhanded fame bother you too much.

“Hm. How nice of them. Maybe I’ll tell you the real reason later.” You used to hate having secrets, but this one you’ve been carrying for so long that it’s already an instinct to dodge all personal questions.

“Alright. I’ll hold on to that promise,” Astarion says slowly with an inspecting – or maybe it’s suspicious – look.

“What about you? How are you adjusting?” you ask in turn. As a magister he must be used to a more comfortable lifestyle.

Astarion sighs and turns to gaze at the stars. “I admit, resting in the dirt is a little novel.” If you didn’t know better, you could say he sounds almost excited.

���It has a certain charm to it, doesn’t it?” you smile and a yawn forces its way out right after the words.

“Indeed. But you should get some rest,” Astarion says gently, “I’ll keep watch tonight.” 

Your brows raise at the thoughtful offer. If anything, you would’ve thought he would be the first one to declare that night watch duties are far beneath him.

“Thank you, Astarion, though I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep any time soon,” you reply, but feel pleasantly drowsy and warm thanks to the crackling campfire and numbness from the exhausting day. Maybe you wouldn’t mind spending time talking with someone who shares these recent odd experiences, but it’s getting difficult to think in complete sentences. You should really go to your bedroll.

Astarion seems to be scooting closer to you with an impossibly charming grin on his perfect lips. The perceptive eyes take in your drooping form. In a passing thought you wonder why isn’t he as tired as the rest of your group.

Astarion hums quietly: “Well, if you want to spend time with me, you only need to say so.”

Some amount of clarity and consciousness returns to you with a flush of abashment.

“I’m really tired, so. Uhh, I’m off to bed…” you stumble to reply, promptly standing up while your jammed brain is wondering did you hear the elf correctly or are you just half-asleep.

“Whatever you say, my dear. Now off with you,” Astarion says with a little laugh.

You definitely heard him right.

-

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

[justafairytailofinnocence]

may i request a headcanon, imagine, or oneshot (whichever is easiest and best for you!) of will turner x male (or GN if it works better for you!) who’s like..a vampire. has super sharp + long canine teeth (and whatever the ‘bottom canine’ teeth are called), slightly pointy ears, heightened senses, sensitivity to sun, obviously the, y’know, drinks blood bit-

if you want more information, or just don’t want to do it at all, no worries! also, feel free to alter anything to your wishes! have a great day! :)

Will turner x m/gn vampire reader 🧛🌊

A/n: so, in this headcanon despite it being an x reader of male or gn, your nickname is Alucard.

The night was your life. The blood was your need, and death was an old friend. You were a creature of the night; a nosferatu, a demon, a monster who preyed on the weak—draining their blood when you were hungry.

In 1696, you were a living being with a beating heart—you were able to breathe life, and you were able to feel satisfied in hunger, thirst, and desire. You had outlived your predecessors. You were a product made not of god's creation.

You went by many names, but the most known being 'diavolul nopţii' or 'el diablo de la noche'. The devil of the night 🌙.

You had no recollections of your origin. It was many centuries ago. You recalled being born in 1462, the time of the great war between vlad the imapler, son of the dracul, and the Ottoman empire.

You were but a small child, too young to remember your parents. They had perhaps abandoned you during the time of the war to save their own skin or planned to use you as a sacrifice to save themselves from the deranged vlad or ottomans themselves.

You remembered seeing the whisps of flames surrounding the outside of your home. Scared and unkowning of what to do, you ran beneath the small, chiselled wooden dining table. You knew death was imitable. The flames growing by the second, and the black smoke clouding the rooms in a whole. Sooner or later, you'll be engulfed, seeing hell before you.

As your vision became blurry and your breath running thin. A shape you barely made out gripped you by the rags you wore, carrying your small body out from the burning building. Mayhaps it was the grace of God sparing you, a child, from a horrific death.

A tall man with a stout build covered in heavy silver armour dropped you from his shoulder. You were brought before a man with wide, green eyes, a long straight nose with a thin-reddish face.

It was him. You thought. It was—Prince Vlad tepes.

You spoke no words, you didn't know how to. All you could do was bow your head as Vlad sneered at you, assuming you were a peasant.

"Kill the boy/child—" His voice was raspy with a snide. Until the army man who saved you had holted the others. "Your grace, a symbol, look! On the boy's/child's arm."

Vlad, curious, narrowed his eyes, gripping the boy's arm with brute force and lifting his rag's sleeve. "A Diavol, my lord, a chosen sacrafice." The army man spoke out.

Vlad's eyes remained narrow, depicting a decision one could assume to kill or let live.

He waved a signal to his men, and immediately, you were bounded by rope, tossed on the back of the army man's white stallion, riding back toward the bran castle in the Transylvanian Alps, the southern Cartharpian mountains.

Through your childhood, you had been adopted as an apprentice to study in the black arts of magic and alchemy. Some say you were the adopted son of vlad, yet he was far from what you expected. You were dubbed Alucard. The son of the dracul'.

Many described you as clean in appearance, appearing with innocent eyes yet written with damage from the world's doing.

You read many books and history and learnt many skills that none had been able to achieve. You had a strong connection with the strigoi and moroi. Both blood sucking creatures that rose from the dead.

As you entered your teenage years, you had a fascination for blood, a fondness rather. Studying it, observing it from animals or others. You wanted to learn the science behind it, straying from the myths and lies the churches had been trying to explain.

Many feared you would turn into Vlad himself, a monster depraved of humanity.

Vlad hadn't always been the doting father figure, yet he was proud to say you were the closet thing to a son he ever had.

One day, in the village, you were arriving back from gathering ingredients to conjure your experiment. You met a young man, same as your age. He was different, though, in contrast to your appearance. He was more fuller in life. He had dark brown hair that reached his shoulders with brown eyes. He wore a light brown garb, and he carried a book with a familiar symbol.

"Speak your name, or you shall fall from the pits of grace," you sneered, the same way your father had once when he saw you.

"Forgive me, my name is avram," he pleaded.

The boy was far weaker and submissive compared to your stature.

You didn't think much of him yet, you later learnt he was the son of a Catholic man. He was kinder, not threatening you, which was foreign in your eyes.

"Your eyes, it's as if life has crumbled before you," avram nervously commented.

"What do you know of my life, you know nothing," you said with a hiss.

"I may not know you deeply, but I know lightness can be shed even in the darkest of man," he smiled softly.

You sneered, "Your foolish tongue shall be carved onto my silver platter."

Before you said anything more, he knelt down and offered you a plant—malva. He then placed it in your hand, curling your fingers. "I can teach you life. Healing is one of many things gifted from god's love. And everything around deserves life—even you."

You found yourself staring into his deep brown eyes. There was something about this boy you found different. Your cheeks turned to a slight tinge of red. You've never felt this way before. All you've known is darkness and evil, yet when he introduced you to light, you felt an odd sensation of warmth.

In the coming days, you tried to catch up with the avram, spending every hour speaking of amenities of healing and treatment. During the nights, you dreamt of him, desiring to lie in the sun by his son as he comforted you from the darkness.

You hadn't seen vlad in days, wondering if he was dead, but for now, it didn't matter. You had, for once in your life, felt a happiness you've yearned for.

Avram was the personafication of light.

On one summer eve, you both lay in the Cartharpian mountains forest, feeling the warmth on your faces. Your eyes lingered over to his hand, and with curiosity, you grabbed it. "I never told you my name. It's Alucard."

He smiled, a lightness emitting from within his words. "I will light the way through your darkness, Alucard, I'll guide the light through hell and heaven to save you".

Filled with emotions, both your hands cupped Avram's cheek, pulling him toward you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and wet, yours rough with a slight smoothness. You found love, and he was the love of your life.

Yet, that would soon change when you arrived back at the castle's gate. You saw blood trailed from the outer path. Curious, you followed it back inside until it led you to the castle's main entrance. Bodies—the bodies of the guards and armies men lay dead among the stone floors of the castle.

Creeping inside the castle, trailing along the blood along the stone floors. You stop, the blood trailed from the floor to the walls and—to the roof. You clenched your mouth in confusion and rage. Someone had trespassed into your home and slaughtered your father's allies. Soon, your thoughts turned to fear, fearing your father would be dead.

You dashed through the main room of the castle until you reached his chambers. From there, you opened the wooden door, entering slowly, seeing more blood trails running up the wall.

Something scurried behind you. You turned, yet a dark shadow had emerged. "My dear boy/child, oh how you've grown," two elongated fingers with sharp nails like claws grasped both your shoulders.

"Tată, what happened to you?" you said, backing slowly against the wall. The fear you felt was flashing back to when you were in your house as a child surrounded by fire.

"I've read your little book of necromancy, I've taken it upon myself to become a creature not of god's grace," he said with a hiss. You could feel a hint of two long canines poking your skin.

"A vampyre," his grip hardened as you winced.

Your eyes widened as you felt two long needle like canines pierce your neck with ease. Your body paralysed, and you could feel the burning sensation overtake your throat.

"I grant you the powers of a nosferatu." Your vision turned to black as the last thing you felt was the burning sensation of fire.

————

1728, the day of the commodore's promotion. Will was making a small sword decorated with tinges of gold in the hilt.

He was excited he completed such fine mastery, but more so, it's a chance to see Elizabeth.

He placed a black leather scabbard over the fine smallsword. The hilt stuck out and attached at the very end of the end of the pammel was a silver rope like tassel.

He began to head toward the manor to show Govener Swann the Commodore's sword.

Trailing along the docks of Port Royal, he noticed a mysterious figure. The figure wasn't like anyone he had met before. However, he didn't want to meddle and dally. He disregarded the stranger and kept trailing on toward the path of the manor.

The stranger locked eyes onto his; a young man/person in their early adulthood, around the same age. You stared deeply into Will's eyes. Your frontal canines were longer than any human he knew, and his ears were angular.

Your eyes were a deep crimson that had some alluring affect to them.

Will was baffled by the appearance yet pulled in by the appeal.

You wore a dark overcoat concealing your attire and a dark laced umbrella to protect yourself from the sun.

Your ears perked up, hearing his blood flow and light breaths. You knew he was curious about you.

Your thin snake like tongue licked your lips when your eyes laid upon his neck.

Will was strangely allured to you. Your elongated fingers stretched around Will's head. "Avram, my love, I've returned at last," he heard in a muttered husk.

Will perked up his neck as you leant forward, you shifted your height at will, and your canines grew more as your irises turned from red to black.

Yet, as you leaned down, the sunlight touched your wrist, causing you to feel slightly burning. You hissed back into the shadow of the building.

Will confused stumbled back. "What are you—".

You replied with a guttural lurking growl, "not of your kind."

Will, out of instinct, drew out the commodore's sword. "I warn you sir, I do not wish to fight you, I'm saving the day for when I use a sword, it'll be for a pirate—so I can kill it."

As he lunged forward, your body turned to a black mist, tempting him forward. He dropped the smallsword as you wrapped your hands around his. "Do. Not. Fear. Me" you say sternly.

"—Avram—come to me—come to the land of the living and the damned" your lips softly press against Will's.

Will was strangely paralysed, as if it was hypnosis, holting him from any movement.

He wondered, who Avram was? Why you called him so?

He gently called out, whispering "My n-name is Will Turner."

As he closed his eyes, you vanished, dropping his weight. He steadied himself looking around.

You were no where in sight.

He picked up the commodore's sword coming to his senses, trailing on—not wanting to find out what will come next.

Over the the next few days, you stalked him, keeping up with his sleeping patterns. Leaving gifts for him and gently enamouring him in your grasp.

Though, when you learnt of Elizabeth Swann, your mouth growled with a disdainful hiss. You fell in love with Will, you needed him, he was the only connection to Avram.

Only you hatched a plan to turn Will on a dead night. To make him your lover and live in the castle of wallachia—only problem—Dracula.