#Horror!dance sounds so cool

[pigeonstab]

Do you have any head cannons for dance sans’s lore or personality? i’m doing a weird creativity experiment thing where I fuse sanses together and then make them into OCs, and I got dance and horror for one of them

Oooh Well, in terms of lore it's pretty much just normal undertale Sans? So pretty typical canon Sans behavior, I do think he's somehow more laid back than Classic, on an internal level, because Classic is chill but he's also really not chill, I think Dance being so in tune with his body means he'd also be less guarded somewhat, he's truer to himself than Classic. Dance is still a huge liar and deflects but it's less rigid.

He's less social than Classic too, again these are like, take these as very minimal differences, Dance isn't not social, only slightly less so than Classic.

He's also kind of a showoff lol, he's not really cocky but when you can do the moves he can it'd be a bitch to never pull them y'know? And it'd always get a reaction from the guys at Grillby's (plus being intrinsically tied to dance!monster's culture, while I get the idea of Dance not actually dancing I feel like it's putting him in a main character position I kind of dislike, it also feels like a waste to have characters in the dance au not dance?) so yeah, he likes pulling out moves and like I've said before I think he'd be a powerhead.

That's my take on him lol do with that what you will

[fagtrickbateman]

ballet horror is . Soooo .

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[goryhorroor]

at least I don’t think there’s any horror movies on these (and I mean like directly inspired by these and less like movies kinda with that concept). I love historical horror and there needs to be more.

I encourage to read these stories cause they’re so interesting (first one is kinda not real but the myth sounds terrifying; also yes accidentally put alligators instead crocodiles) + any idea can be a horror movie (there’s literally a horror movie about a rubber tire)

[misctf]

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car.  

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they’d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

[obsessedwhyyes]

Beneath the Blood and Starlight

Summary: Awoken from a nightmare, you seek a moment of reprieve down by the river, only to find your mysterious vampire companion - covered in blood. As you help him with his mess, you realise that perhaps there's more to his rakish, teasing façade: a vulnerability that you had not anticipated. A moment of intimacy ensues.

Rating: T Word Count: 3096 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: Act 1, pre-romance, fluff, early bonding, non-sexual intimacy, flirting, feral cat Astarion. Warning: Starts with a nightmare sequence featuring depictions of ceremorphosis, in case that's an issue.

A/N: What was meant to be a cute, fluffy little drabble grew arms and legs and turned into several thousand words. I wanted to explore some non-sexual intimacy, in the context of Act 1 where everyone is still learning about each other, so here we have some typical Act 1 Astarion flirting, some banter, and some exploration of Astarion - the person, rather than the vampire spawn.

It was a night like any other.

The campfire warmed the faces of the merry band of travelling companions you had accrued throughout the course of your journey. The strangest bedfellows one could ever imagine, but amidst the chaos of your journey up to now, the sound of laughter was a joyous reprieve; a rare moment of peace.

Your gaze was drawn inexorably to Astarion who sat across from you. Firelight danced across his pale skin as you watched him, and he caught your eye then. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth and your heart fluttered, just a little.

“Darling,” he purred, raising a finger to point to you, “you’re bleeding.”

You were?

Your hand reached for your face, feeling a slickness trickling from your nose. Strange. You hadn’t noticed any pain.

Suddenly, the firelight seemed too bright, the laughter too loud.

Something was wrong.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your body was wracked instead with a fit of coughs. You could not breathe.

You doubled over, and an ache spread throughout your jaw - a pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your innards felt ready to burst out of you.

“Are you alright?” Astarion’s voice was tinged with an uncharacteristic concern. Moving quickly to your side, his cool hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. But as your eyes met his, you recoiled in horror.

A mindflayer.

Where Astarion’s once beautiful face had been, you were greeted with orange eyes, burning with malice, sharp teeth like cut glass within a tentacled maw, and slickened, wet skin. Yet, his voice remained the same, teasing and rakish - a jarring contrast that set your heart pounding, limbs begging you to flee.

You tried to scream, but your jaw felt wrong. It cracked, a sickening sound that reverberated through your skull. The pain was excruciating, blinding. Something writhing and slick attempted to push its way out of your throat and you choked.

Astarion-Not-Astarion’s hand, still cool against your feverish skin, stroked your cheek almost tenderly. “That’s it,” he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of his usual flirtatious drawls, “embrace the change.”

You looked around wildly. All of your companions had transformed, their familiar faces replaced by disgusting, terrifying… No, beautiful, evolved, magnificent alien features.

“Change,” they chanted. “Change. Change…”

You bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping your lips. Cold sweat drenched your skin as you wildly scanned your surroundings. The familiar sight of your tent came into focus.

Your heart pounded in your chest as realisation set in. A dream. It was a dream.

It was a night like any other.

And that was precisely the problem.

Sleep, you decided, was no longer an option.

There was a river in the woods nearby and you were in desperate need to cleanse yourself of the sweat which clung to your still shivering body. Or rather, you needed something, anything to distract yourself. And so, packing washcloths, you left the confines of your tent and snuck away into the woodlands.

–

The sound of running water called to you, a moment of solace drawing nearer. Or so you thought, until a familiar figure came into view.

It was Astarion, sitting by the river's edge, moonlight gleaming across his pale… Bare skin.

Assuming you'd stumbled in on something you shouldn't have, you averted your gaze hastily, a blush crawling up your neck. “A-ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude!”

“It's just my shirt, darling. No need for such modesty.” Astarion’s voice carried a hint of amusement, clearly privy to your embarrassment.

A moment passed as you attempted to recompose yourself. Looking up, he was indeed just shirtless. 

Thank the gods for that.

As you drew closer to him, you noticed the blood smeared across his face - evidence of a recent hunt.

Truth be told, he was a bit of a mess. Crimson streaks painted his cheeks and chin, with a particularly gruesome splatter across his left temple. Some of it had begun to dry, flaking at the edges. It was a stark, almost beautiful contrast against his pale skin - a reminder of the predator that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

You sat across from him, trying to ignore the way the moonlight played across his bare chest.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Out for a midnight stroll or were you just hoping to catch me in a compromising position?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were grateful for the familiar banter. You tried not to recall the events of your nightmare, the lingering tendrils of which still threatened to send you into a blinding panic. In a way, you were grateful to have stumbled across Astarion on your journey out here. As much as you told yourself otherwise, being alone was perhaps not what you needed right now.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you said, less than eager to give away the finer details of your predicament.

Your gaze fell on a needle and thread beside him, and a hole in his shirt draped across his lap.

“What happened?” you asked, nodding to his shirt, in a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Ah, this? I was unfortunate enough to get tangled up with a particularly feral boar this evening. The little bastard didn't get very far though.”

Well, you thought to yourself, that explains the blood.

As he picked up the needle and resumed his repairs, long fingers moving with practised ease, you found yourself curious. “I didn't know you could sew.”

“I'm a man of many talents. I'd be happy to give you a… private demonstration, if you like.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Isn't it exhausting trying to talk your way into my trousers all the time?”

“Who says I was trying to talk my way into your trousers?” Astarion gleamed.

You fixed him with a doubtful look, eyebrow raised. In response, he reached into his pack which rested behind him, and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. As you unfolded it, you gasped. Delicate florals, intricate patterns adorned the fabric, embroidered with a meticulous care and skill that you would have attributed to the tailors and seamstresses of Baldur's Gate’s Upper City. It was as if he had captured the essence of a moonlit garden, with silvery threads weaving a tapestry of nocturnal blooms and shadowy vines.

“Gods, Astarion. You made this?”

He nodded, a flicker of genuine pride crossing his features.

“It's beautiful,” you breathed as you ran your fingers across the stitches. “What a wonderful talent to have.”

Something shifted in Astarion’s expression - a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. 

“Yes, well, one must find ways to pass the time. Keep it, if you like,” Astarion continues, attempting to feign disinterest. The look in his eyes told a different story.

“Thank you,” you said. You meant it.

A moment of silence passed between you, punctuated by the gentle bubbles and burbles of the river as it flowed.

“I don't think I have any special talents of my own,” you mused, more to yourself than to him.

Astarion glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure you have some hidden talents. I'd be more than happy to help you explore them, if you like. In my tent, perhaps?”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze.

Astarion grinned, unabashed. “That time, I was trying to talk my way into your trousers.”

You laughed then and gods, did it feel good to laugh on a night like this, even with the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. This dance between you - this constant push-and-pull - had become almost comforting in its familiarity. Of course, you had considered his offer - he had not exactly been subtle about his intentions with you. But you weren't quite ready to give in. Not yet, anyway.

Your laughter settled, and something in the mood shifted as Astarion turned his gaze from you to the river.

“Truth be told, Cazador didn't give us much beyond the clothes on our backs. I had to learn some things for myself.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, despite the venom that laced his voice at his former master’s name. 

“I'm sorry,” you said softly. Once again, you meant it.

He shrugged, forcing a lightness into his tone. “It’s not all bad. Using my hands to create something beautiful - it's a welcome distraction. It lets me feel… well, not good, but less terrible for a while.”

You nodded. You never knew quite what to say in these moments. Astarion had only recently begun to open up to you regarding his past, and each story drew forth a maelstrom of emotions from you. Sadness at the gods-awful role he was thrust into; guilt at not having been there for him sooner; anger, not only at Cazador, but at those who had the opportunity to save him but chose not to, as though his vampiric nature made him less worthy of the safety that all who live, crave. You could only imagine the feelings which raged like a tempest in him.

It was in moments like these that you had to admire just how brave he really was.

You were snapped out of your ruminations when Astarion finished his mending. You caught a glimpse of a sharp, pointed fang as he used it to cut the thread - an action which shouldn't have been as fascinating as it was.

He stood and slipped on his shirt.

“Well?” He asked, with a twirl and a flourish. “What do you think?”

“Perfect as always,” you replied, then paused. “Except for, well, the blood on your face.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in indignation. “And you're only mentioning this now?”

You shrugged, fighting back a grin. “I thought the feral look rather suited you.”

“You absolute freak,” he scoffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

“I can help if you want.”

As you dug into your pack to procure a washcloth, your intentions clear, Astarion’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He recoiled as if you'd brandished a weapon, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Absolutely not.”

Pride and uncertainty marred his voice. You recognised the look in his eyes - the same wary glance of a feral cat, torn between the desire for help and the instinct to flee.

“Come on,” you coaxed, keeping your voice soft, even. “It's not like you can look in a mirror.”

You had hoped humour would de-escalate the situation.

It did not.

For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes - a cornered predator lashing out. But as he met your gaze, something in his expression shifted. The fury melted to uncertainty, then a flicker of longing so brief you almost missed it.

Astarion’s body language was a mess of contradictions. He leaned slightly towards you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, only to catch himself and pull back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but the words lacked his usual bite. “I don't need– I mean, I'm perfectly capable of–”

“If you don't need my help, that's okay. We don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

Astarion’s eyes darted between your face and the cloth, held loosely in your hand. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“Why?” he asked.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Why are you helping me? Why care?

“Because I want to,” you answered simply.

Something in Astarion’s expression cracked then, a hairline fracture in his carefully constructed façade. He gave a jerky nod, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Well,” he said, his tone aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile, “if you insist on playing nursemaid, who am I to stop you? Though I warn you, darling, caring for me can be a dangerous pastime.”

The words were pure Astarion - flirtatious, guarded, with a hint of threat. The words weren't quite acceptance, but they were close enough.

“I'll take my chances,” you teased softly, patting the ground beside you, prompting him to sit.

He complied with an obvious reluctance, perching on the edge of the riverbank as if the ground might swallow him whole.

As you wetted your washcloth in the river and moved closer to him - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin - you notice him tense at the anticipation of your touch. His eyes were squeezed shut, face turned slightly away from you. But you were gentle as you placed the cloth to his cheek and began to wipe away the streaks of crimson from his face.

The sounds of the world around you dulled, faded to a murmur as you tended to him, as though the leaves had stilled their rustling and the river its gurgling. In this moment of suspended reality, your focus narrowed to Astarion’s face and the myriad of emotions playing across it.

His hesitation, his vulnerability - it struck you how monumental this simple act truly was. Here was a man - a vampire - who had known centuries of cruelty; who had learned to weaponise his charm and keep the world at arm’s length for his safety. And yet, he was allowing you to see him like this: uncertain, teetering at the edge of trust.

The weight of his concession settled over you like a blanket. Each micro-expression that flickered across his features told a story of internal struggle - the tightening of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for pain that wouldn't come. It was a dance of contradictions; a battle between ingrained distrust and a longing for gentleness.

In this frozen moment, you realised that what you were offering wasn't just a clean face. It was acceptance, care, a touch unburdened by expectation or demand. And for Astarion, perhaps accepting it was an act of bravery greater than any he'd shown in battle.

With careful strokes, you cleaned the blood away from his cheek. You worked slowly, mindful of the tension in his jaw. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax under your ministrations.

“Turn your head for me?” you asked, softly.

Astarion complied without a word, tilting his face to give you access to the other cheek. His eyes remained closed, but the furrow in his brow had softened.

You resumed your task, gently working your way across his features. A stubborn smear of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, another at the hollows of his cheekbones, droplets that had spattered at his forehead - all melted away before your eyes with each glide of the wet cloth, unveiling his pale skin.

As you worked, you found yourself studying him in a way you never had before. His elven features were a study in contrasts - ethereal beauty intertwined with the weathering of time and hardship. High cheekbones caught the moonlight, throwing delicate shadows across his face. His skin, where it wasn't marred by blood, was like polished alabaster, smooth and luminous.

As you gently moved to cleanse his temple, your fingertips brushed against a strand of his hair - silk curls spun from starlight.

Yet it was the imperfections that truly drew you in. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, like a map of laughter and sorrow etched by the years. His brow, while regal, bore the weight of exhaustion, a testament to the burdens he carried.

There was something mesmerising in the juxtaposition - this timeless, otherworldly beauty marked by the unmistakable signs of an unlife born of hardships and losses yet unspoken between you. But each line, each weary shadow, only served to enhance a grace that time and pain could never fully erase.

Your hand paused, cloth hovering near his cheek, as you realised you'd been lost in studying him. In that moment, beneath the moon’s gentle gaze and the river’s whispered song, you saw not just the elf; the vampire; the mysterious travelling companion, but the man - beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly captivating.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, catching you in your reverie. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The air between you was filled with unspoken words and possibilities. 

It was… intimate.

“See something you like, darling?” Astarion’s voice was soft, lacking its usual sharp edge of sarcasm. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made your breath catch.

You smiled softly, resuming your gentle ministrations.

“Just making sure I didn't miss any spots.”

You weren't quite ready to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by rippling sounds of water as you periodically dipped your washcloth in the river to wring it out.

As you shifted to clean the last traces of blood, you finally looked up again to meet Astarion’s gaze fully.

“There,” you said. “I knew there was a handsome man somewhere under all that filth.”

Astarion’s lips quirked into a smile - not his usual smirk, but something softer.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your… attentions,” he murmured.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and charged with possibility. For a heartbeat, you thought he might lean in; might close the distance between you. But the moment passed, leaving behind a mix of relief and something that felt dangerously close to disappointment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

“We should probably head back to camp,” you suggested, your voice steadier than you felt.

Astarion nodded, rising to his feet with his usual grace. As you gathered your things, you felt his eyes on you, thoughtful and considering.

“You know,” he said as you started back through the woods, “I think you might have one hidden talent.”

You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

His smile was enigmatic, tinged with something you couldn't quite name.

“You have a remarkable ability to surprise me. And that… that is no small feat.”

As you made your way back to camp, the weight of your nightmare felt lighter. And if you walked a little closer to Astarion than strictly necessary, well, that was just to avoid tripping in the dark. Nothing more.

It was a night like any other and yet, as you settled back into your bedroll, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Astarion. A new understanding, perhaps, or the first trembling notes of a melody yet to be fully composed. Whatever it was, it sang you to sleep, keeping the nightmares at bay just this once.

No Pressure Tag List: @roguishcat @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard

Masterlist can be found here.

[kangnoeulsdoll]

Rooftop Confessional.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・

Kang No-eul x Fem!reader

synopsis: When No-Eul calls you up to the restricted school rooftop you know it's a bad move - but her otherworldly allure is just too irresistible. With the dying sun illuminating, stolen kisses pollute the boundary between danger and appetite, drawing you to speculate whether these hidden encounters are worth the risk or whether they hold a meaning far beyond mere passion.

a/n: I fear I’m so obsessed with No-eul to the point I wanna start writing for her actress.

warnings! slightly suggestive makeout on the rooftop.

𐙚₊˚🪷⊹ ᰔ

"Rooftop after class?"

It was a bad notion, and deep down you felt that it was so. The rooftop wasn't something you were allowed to go up to, technically, and if one of the teachers saw you, it would all be your fault, alongside hers. Something in No-Eul just made logical reasoning a hazy distant memory. Probably, it was due to the fact that her eyes sparkled with mischief, or that she was daring with almost everything.

Now, as you hauled up onto your bag, you tried to ignore the way she watched you from across the room-she lay backwards in her seat, her legs stretched under the desk and her chin propped against her hand. Eventually you looked her way, she grinned, tilting her head just the tiniest amount in the direction of the door.

You'd hesitated a moment, swinging your bag over your shoulder before you headed out. No-Eul was waiting by the door, leaning against the frame with her bag slung off one shoulder and hanging lazy.

"Took you long enough," she teased. Her voice came low, smooth.

Impossible, you are," you mumbled, but your voice rose with the first flicker of a smile.

"Maybe," she said, straightening up. "But you still showed up."

She takes him out and calmly walks him to the halland, pretending that he's ordinary. These two stayed at a distance, with each other, until they got to the stairwell. Having taken a hasty glance over her back to check her sanctuary, No-Eul grabs hold of your wrist and is pulling you upstairs. With clenched teeth, you hissed at the sound behind you, in horror.

"Relax," she said, a grin tugging at her lips. "No one ever comes up here."

The rooftop door sighed open, and there you stood in a bracing blast of fresh air and the radiant glow of the dying sun. Below, the city lay out in glistening shades of orange and pink.

Specifically, No-Eul took a step out, she stood next to the railing and looked at the sight. "Told you it's worth it," she said, looking back to you with that smug smile of hers.

You huffed, getting closer but remaining a couple of feet away from the other. "One of these days, we're going to get caught."

She laughed, the top of her head shaking lightly as she looked at you. "You've been saying that for weeks. Still here, though."

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to learn your lesson," you shot back.

Perhaps," she said, closing the distance between you in several steps, "you enjoy a bit of excitement.

Your breath hitched, because she stopped right in front of you, and rested cool hands in the flaps of her blazer. She tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes looking directly at yours.

"Admit it," she said, her voice soft, though the words were teasing and her expression serious.

You crossed your arms, trying to suppress the beating of your heart. "Admit what?"

"That you can't resist me," she returned, her mouth curving with a smirk.

how close she was.

"Am I wrong?" she whispered.

All you did was lean down, pressing your lips against hers. At first, it was a rather cautious kiss but it was not going to stay so. No-Eul's grip on your waist squeezed you tight against her and pressed harder on the lips sealing both, hers and yours.

Intoxicating-the way her lips danced against yours, that subtle hint of perfume she wore, the excitement of being up here with her when you knew you shouldn't be. Your hands somehow found their ways to her shoulders, sliding up to tangle in her hair. She hummed in approval, her lips curving in a smile against yours as she kissed you again, this time slower.

At last you two were nearly out of breath. No-Eul rested her forehead against your cheek, while her thumbs drew lazy circles on your lower abdomen.

"You're trouble," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She chuckled, the smirk returning as she looked at you. "And you like trouble."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. I have no idea why I agreed to do this with you.

"Because I'm irresistible," she said, her grin spreading.

"Sure," you said, rolling your eyes, though the heat in your chest betrayed you.

You stood with contentment in the comfortable quiet, the refreshing breeze caressing your hair. No-Eul slumped back against the railing, pulling you with her and you were standing there in between her and the edge of the rooftop.

The town below lit in the last-but-one ghostly candlelight, and for that instant in the world, there were two of all the people in the galaxy.

"Hey," she said suddenly subdued.

You look up to her, raising an eyebrow at this sudden subdued tone in her.

"I'm serious," she says, her eyes locking with yours. If we ever happen to be caught… I mean, well, it's not the end of the world, right?

You frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

She shrugged, hands still resting on your hips. "I just mean… this is worth it. You're worth it."

Your cheeks went with the flush of her words, and in a rare occurrence, you were at a loss for words. No-Eul seemed to notice, because she grinned, swooping in again to kiss you once more. This time however it was gentler, slower, as if she was just basking and soaking it all up.

She leaned her forehead against yours for the second time when she withdrew, returning to that smirk.

"See? You're a horrible liar."

You laughed and it must have travelled down across the roof. "You're impossible," you said, and it was without real venom.

"And yet," she replied, her hands sliding up to cup your face as if we'd never paused, "you keep coming back."

And she wasn't wrong. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea, you knew you'd be back here with her again tomorrow.

[partial-prints]

If you love vampires, listen up!

Do you enjoy vampires, 80’s music, a healthy dose of homoeroticism - all with a theatrical flair? Well look no further, for I submit to you Dance of the Vampires.

(More cool pictures at the very bottom)

What is it you may ask? It’s a musical about a vampire who seduces a girl and invites her to his midnight ball - an offer she simply cannot turn down. The whole thing sorta gives Phantom of the Opera vibes, but like, wayyy less creepy (despite it being a literal vampire). I will say now that yes, Tanz der Vampire (the original title of Dance of the Vampires), is in German, but there is a full recording with English subtitles on youtube, so please don’t let that prevent you from watching it. Now if you’re still reading, allow me to elaborate on the 80’s music and homoeroticism that I previously mentioned.

Let’s start with the tragic gay romance, because I’m sure that’s what you want to hear about first. While not a main part of the musical, the main vampire’s son falls in love with - gasp! - the vampire hunter’s apprentice. They dance together, and with stage magic involving a mesh screen and an actor on the other side dressed identically to the apprentice, it appears as though the vampire has no reflection in the “mirror”. Of course, the feeling is not mutual, as the apprentice is only at the castle to rescue the girl, who he is in love with.

Now, onto the 80’s music. Surely you’ve heard of the song Total Eclipse of the Heart, or the singer Meatloaf (even if it was just his role as Eddie in Rocky Horror Picture Show). Well, the man who wrote that song and a majority if not all of Meatloaf’s work, was Jim Steinman, who composed the musical. The soundtrack contains a decent amount of electric guitar, even a bit of synth at parts, and all around just sounds awesome. However, he only had about a month and a half to compose it all, so he reused some stuff he previously wrote, including a couple Meatloaf songs and Total Eclipse of the Heart, a song he originally wrote for a Nosferatu musical that ended up not getting produced. It was actually originally titled “Vampires in Love,” so what better song is there to fill the place of a big love duet between the girl and the Count?

Tanz der Vampire is my favorite musical ever. I’ve loved it ever since Count von Krolock appeared on the screen and first began to sing, and you may love it too. So I implore you. Please do yourself a favor and check it out. I’ll provide a link of a full recording with English subtitles here, but it should also be the first result on youtube when you search “tanz der vampire english subtitles.” (That production also has Drew Sarich as the Count, my personal favorite.) I should add though, do not watch the broadway production because it’s terrible.

If you’re still not sold, I’m not sure what else I could say to convince you, but hopefully you at least found this interesting and learned something new. If you want to know more about Tanz der Vampire or would like to hear about other musicals about vampires, please let me know and I can answer any questions. (If even one person watches it because of this I’ll consider this a success, and if you do watch it please let me know because it would really make my day.)

And now I’ll leave you with some pictures of Tanz der Vampire as a last resort to convince you how awesome it is and that you should watch it. (I also put in the alt text the song each picture is from for anyone interested)

*ooo the set design and costuming have hypnotized you… you want to watch it now… do it for the vampires…*

[secretlysimpash]

Kyle Garrick, who has seen so many horrors, almost melting when he's finally able to have some peace and domesticity with you for the holidays. Specifically when he's able to cook and bake with you.

Ever since he got back home, about two weeks before the holiday, he's been inseparable from you. In the shops, out visiting family, at home...You've even taken more than one shower with him since his return.

So it should be no surprise when he helped cook dinner for Christmas, which you decided should just be a quiet one with the two of you at home. He helped cook, clean up after, and then helped make the dough for the cookies.

He insisted on taking the cookies out of the oven so you don't burn yourself. And as the sugar cookies cool on a wire rack...You two just take some time to be together. His hands never leave you as you two slowly sway to the gentle music playing from one of your phones.

After some swaying and movements that could count as slow dancing, he's behind you. You two speak quietly about your trip to your cousin's house for a little holiday get-together, talking about how your cousin is having another kid and how her two other little ones seem excited. As you talk about the baby, Kyle's hands slowly find your front, resting on your stomach. When you finish, he rests his head on your shoulder, kissing the spot right below your ear before speaking up.

"You ever...Think about that one day?"

"Mh? About what?"

"Kids...A family, love. Just a few little ones..."

"...I mean...Have you, Ky?"

He hesitates for a moment, kissing that spot again before his hands caress your stomach gently.

"No. Not until I met you." He murmurs before exhaling through his nose, a quiet laugh. "Sounds stupid, cliche. But it's true."

...

The same time the following year, its pretty much the same situation...You and Kyle at home, cooking and baking...Except this time, he's holding up a chubby 3 month old girl, letting her see the tree a bit better as he talks softly to the babbling baby. You're recording the whole thing, adoring how gentle Kyle is with her.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Floyd Leech: Cinderella Step

GOOD GOD, FLOYD 😭 Put your grippers AWAY, I don’t wanna see those… (flashbacks to the horror of Dorm Uniform Jade groovy)

P.S. You should listen to Cinderella Step by Daoko :)) I enjoy it a lot, and it’s also the song that I named this ficlet after. I feel like that first full line (“Though you are the worst, I can’t help but love you”) is very evocative of the NRC boys 😂

Rise and Shine!

It was easy to tell which side of the room was Floyd's. It always looked like a hurricane had run through, scattering clothes all over every avaliable surface. Snack crumbs are sprinkled like a generous garnish on his desk and shelf. His belongings—interesting odds and ends he had collected over the weeks—were similarly strewn haphazardly, wherever there was free space to be occupied.

There was only one thing that the storm seemed to have missed.

His shoes.

A glossy black--patent leather. Large yet sleek, tapering into pointed toes. It was the same pair he wore every day with his school uniform, yet there was not so much as a scratch or a speck of dirt on them.

Pristine.

The one thing he takes good care of, you thought. Must be magic.

Other shoes sat in neat rows on a rack. Boots, sneakers, sandals, in shapes and colors you've never even imagined. The variety astounded you.

Floyd bounded about the room collecting his things. He hopped around on one leg, slipping on a sock, then alternated to the other leg. Next he slung his blazer, still slightly wrinkled from having been crumpled and tossed over a chair last night, on over his prim grey-lilac vest. His striped tie was forgotten, left forlorn on his bed as he yoinked the patent leather shoes and slipped them on.

“‘K, I’m ready," Floyd announced cheerily. "Let’s get going, koebi-chan~"

You stared at his messy room. "You're not going to tidy up a little before heading out?"

He blinked. "Hmm? Why would I? Stuff's gonna shift around anyway, so there's no point in doing that."

Floyd strolled out, hands casually tucked in his pockets. You followed after him, falling in time with his footsteps. Today, they were long and languid, like waves lazily combing the beach.

You knew what that meant; good mood, best to not disturb it.

"... Right." You offered a small, reassuring smile. “Hey, I noticed that you have a lot of shoes—and you take such good care of them.”

“Yeah. Cuz we don’t really have’m where I come from. Gotta make the most of my human experience and all.”

"You don't exactly dress in a shirt and pants under the sea either," you pointed out with a shrug.

“Shoes are special.” He said it with surprisingly conviction, an uncharacteristic seriousness set in his eyes. "You kinda need them to do the things humans do every day, least without getting nagged at. Jumping, dancing, strolling down the street."

“All this talk about footwear… You sound like Cinderella.”

“Ehh… Do I give you those vibes?” There was a crackle entangled with his words.

“You’re the kind of guy that would sneak out if Azul told you to stay put.” You paused, then added, “just to prove a point.”

He gave a razor-sharp grin in response. “Touché.”

Floyd glanced down at his feet. His eyes barely lingered there for half a second before they flicked to yours. “Glass slippers sound cool though.”

“Glass slippers? Really? You’re not scared they’d break…? I thought you’d be into more durable shoes. Something easy to move around in.”

“I’d try’m on at least once, as long as it’s not lame lookin’. I’ll try anything at least once. Glass slippers, a puss’s boots, ballet flats from twelve dancing princesses, shoes made by elves…”

“Even cursed shoes?” you asked. “Professor Trein was telling us about them the other day. Put them on, and you’re cursed to dance forever and ever—or at least until you collapse from exhaustion.”

Floyd made a face. “Nah. Dancing’s fun, but not if you do it all the time. I’d get sick of it.”

"There’s more than one way of dancing.”

“Duh. I know that. But it’ll still get pretty boring after a while.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head, your feet coming to a stop. “Dancing’s a lot like having a conversation, except your mouth doesn’t ever need to move. You just let your body do the talking.”

Your legs criss-crossed in a quick jig. "This is being excited." Standing on your toes, you carefully elevated yourself. "This is whispering." Putting all your weight into your feet, you stomped. "And this is shouting!"

Floyd watched your demonstration in silence. Gold, right. Olive, left. Together, mysterious and mirthful.

“Sounds fun,” he piped up at last. “I want in on this."

Before you had the chance to respond, Floyd's had had already latched onto yours. The other wrapped around your waist, tugging you against his chest. You lurched against him, and the sound of his raspy laughter filling your eardrums.

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance. Then you tell me what my dancing says to you.”

“W-Wait, Floyd…!”

He didn’t.

Floyd strung you along and down the street, swinging you erratically in his arms. With his long limbs swaying, he moved as naturally as a fish amid coral. For a creature of the sea, he had such grace on land that you could never tell his true origins.

He was the wind, a water current, a wayward traveler. Constantly changing and never truly contained.

Your panic and surprise easily melted into light-hearted laughter. And your feet, too, began to weave freely, as if wading on the shoreline, drawing indiscriminate shapes in the sand.

Realization struck you when you looked at him again. Your heart went thump-thump-thump, in a frantic little dance of its own.

What he’s trying to convey is…

Floyd met your gaze, sparks flying. His fingers interlocked with yours, he leaned in and grinned. Cheeks ruddy, eyes shining with exhibition.

“We don’t need words. Just our dancin’ shoes and each other!”

[noircheols]

THE MONSTER AND ME ⸺ svt

. 𓈒 (𝓢. ) scenarios of seventeen and their monster!s/o

. 𓈒 ( 𝓘. ) fluff, established relationship, horror themes

. 𓈒 ( 𝓦. ) NOT PROOF-READ, gore (duh), death, being murdered (decapitation, fire), the ring movie reference, I PERCHANCE HAVE APPROPRIATED WITCHCRAFT IM SO SORRY TO ANY WHO PRACTICE, pet names (sweetheart), toxic relationships, cheating, allusions to suicide, GROSS!!!! in a sappy way

. 𓈒 ( 💬. ) . happy (belated) halloween!! I COULDNT COMPLETE THIS SMH CUS I HAD MEETINGS FOR A WHOLE WEEK

THE VAMPIRE. ⸺ seungcheol, mingyu, seokmin, seungkwan, chan

he thinks it's cute; your love of fashion. how every outfit you manage to coordinate is always so emblematic of your personality and the long life you have led.

"where's this one from?" he asks, gingerly twiddling the cool metal of the necklace dripping just below your chest. he could pretend all he wanted, but 400 years of living didn't fail you when it came to hearing the surge of blood pumping through his heart. and it certainly didn't help that he was slightly blushing. it makes you happy to know that even after three years of living together, you still had that impact on him.

"this one's from 1894!" you moved closer to him, wanting to feel his warm skin against your cold flesh. "long story short this random guy who stole from the nearby village came to my cabin to hide but i kinda-sorta-maybe decapitated him!!"

"that's nice sweetheart WAIT WHAT"

he also thinks it's cute how desperate you are for cuddles. he is more than aware that you love the sound of blood flowing and how much you love being pressed into him, because it meant you could hear it up close. he knows it has nothing to do with you viewing him as your next meal, but the reassurance that he was still alive. he was not gone yet, like all the others in your life. he knows you would never dare to go as far as graze your teeth against his skin. although... he wishes you would. what? he goes crazy for your teeth poking out every single time you smile. why else do you think he puts so much effort into being funny?

the most cute thing about you though? when you pout over pictures. what's the point of mirrors and phones if you can't see if you look good or not? if you can't record the most precious moments of your long life? how are you supposed to know if purple is your colour? but he simply laughs when he hears your complaints, kissing you deeply and telling you "you are everything i could ever have wished for."

THE GHOST. ⸺ jun, wonwoo, minghao, vernon

he knew something was wrong with his house the day he moved in. when the wires were still intact, the TV kept switching from his desired great british bake-off to the deluded brain-rotted show that was dance moms. what? can you blame a guy for wanting to see what they had in store for patisserie week? it only got worse from then on. he knew he had reached the boiling point when he had left for groceries, only for the magnets to be arranged ever so crudely.

TV

sorry, but he didn't have the budget to buy more magnets. in this economy too? whatever, maybe mindlessly scrolling through netflix would give him purpose. as he settled himself into his couch once more, he noticed another set of eyes. big, doe-like eyes, but haunting. his imagination, right?

another click, and he noticed an elbow tear through the screen, slightly distorting the actor's face. he wished he had the strength to get up from his seat, but something about you was pinning him there. you were like a predator staking out its prey, the way you focussed on him. but good lord you were hotter than anybody else alive. maybe everybody else unalive too. he knows now that he doesn't regret sitting there. legs began unravelling themselves as you slithered out the TV screen, crawling on all fours. you stood up as you unfurled your hand towards his chest, he braced himself, hands digging deep into the sofa. his eyes still remained trained on you. was it right to think you are attractive?

"chill out, i'm a ghost." you smoothly responded, trying to hide your smirk from the startled man sitting in front of you. "although... you don't seem too scared of me. what are you? are you also a ghost?" you mused, floating just enough to try and touch his hair. it looks so soft, you mused to yourself. when's the last time you played with somebody's hair again? he yelped a little, shutting his eyes for what was about to happen. to your disappointment, your hand went right through his head.

"so you're the one messing around with my TV- putting on all those trashy 2000s reality shows." he huffed, brushing himself off. weird. you put your hand threw his head but he doesn't feel anything.

"guilty as charged." you sighed, spinning around mid-air. you swirled around the man, fascinated by the newest tenant. "can you blame me for being nostalgic?" you explained how you had moved into this house with your then-boyfriend. things began to go sour and you never knew why. all you knew was that every single time he came home angry and slamming the door behind him, you knew it was time to turn on the TV and melt the world around you. soon enough you realized he was cheating on you, and when you confronted him about it, push came to shove. your last memories were the TV engulfed in flames, and you choking on smoke as the door quietly closed itself. "i used my ghost skills of manipulating electric currents for the first time by turning on the news and realizing that the police ruled my death as a suicide."

you have both developed a symbiotic relationship. he would let you watch your TV shows and re-introduce you to the joys of the mortal world, like reading books and making soup. he didn't banish you from your house, but looked after your every need (its shocking how many things ghosts need), and for the first time, loved.

as a ghost, you could touch whatever was important to you when you were alive. the TV, fruit tarts, and the magnets you would hang your to-do lists on. weirdly enough, you could touch your new roommate. "maybe i'm becoming super important to you." he teased. "would that make you feel weird?" you remarked, as you entwined your fingers among his. "no at all." he hummed, enjoying the way you traced the warm skin of his palm. peering up to look at him, you eagerly asked. "am i important to you, then?"

more than you could ever know.

THE WITCH. ⸺ jeonghan, joshua, soonyoung, jihoon

as a witch, the burning of incense and candles were familiar spells, intended to expel bad energy. but right now, you need more than to expel bad energy. you needed a guarantee from the universe that the life you lead now would be like this forever. being a witch was isolating, devoting time to a continuous cycle of researching and perfecting non-stop. like being a phd candidate, only minus the glory of being called "doctor." normally, witches have familiars, or "animal friends" as disney would like to call them that substitute the regular human's need for friends. but you didn't have one of those either. it was why it was such a blessing when he had entered your life by accident. all you remember is him asking for your number and the next thing you know you spent your days lounging in his studio apartment, with the coffee table scattered with copies of old esoteric spells from a bygone time.

as you heard the apartment entrance creak open, you knew your beloved was back. likewise, he knew you were doing well. the smell of cinnamon burning was comforting to him because it meant you were at your best condition and continuously experimenting with new spells. it was your way of saying "i've been thinking about you." that you spent hours concocting the best spells to guarantee your and his eternal happiness. it was an absured thought to him, for you to be slaving away when you already had what you wanted.

"i'm sure you don't need to worry, we're just fine without magic." he remarked, flopped onto the couch. he gazed into the kitchen, noticing you submerging a piece of paper in a bottle of water.

"have you ever thought that magic is what's keeping us together? and you're taking it for granted?"

"touche. but i still think-"

you could argue his spells were just as effective too, and that maybe he was a better witch than you could ever be. the way he brews your coffee just right in the morning, like an effective energy potion singing through you and keeping you awake. maybe that coffee also contains a love spell in it, because it makes you think about him non-stop. after all, the only reasonable explanation for the blooming feeling your chest had to be magic. "when will he come home?" "he's gonna be so excited when he figures out i made his favourite!" all those dumb, sappy, romantic thoughts plagued your mind. it's humiliating, but... maybe love is a force that not even the greatest of witches can control. wait- why did you catch him looking at your spells? did he take a peek at your notes?

@noircheols do not copy or translate

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

forever

when your cute next door neighbor falls into your life, you figure what’s the harm in flirting a little? If only you knew what Jeremy had planned…

Jeremy Frazier x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit 

Content warnings: nsfw, mdni, stalking/peeping, mentions of physical harm, masturbation

Author’s note: please enjoy this strange creepy fic that may or may not become a series. in this fic Jeremy is a pervy little creep. sorry not sorry, that’s my HC. to my followers who are asking wtf is this, sorry my muse has shifted. micah if you're reading this, don't :)

Word count: ~2500

It’s a cool October day when the moving truck arrives next door. Jeremy has seen plenty of moving trucks over the years, but their contents never seem to interest him. The living come and go so quickly, he rarely bothers to pay attention to their dull lives anymore. 

He’s sitting on the sill of his bedroom window, one leg dangling over the edge. His eyes are closed as he enjoys the first chill of autumn. As cliche as it is, fall is his favorite season. Seeing the life drain from the earth makes him feel a little less alone, or something.

A sound drifts to him, carried on the breeze. It’s a voice, singing and humming along to a song. Jeremy sighs, not minding the intrusion - the singer has a pleasant enough voice. He thinks he might know the song, which surprises him. He’s always hearing snippets of new music float up from the neighborhood street. 

Who could be listening to The Smiths? he wonders. 

Opening his eyes, Jeremy sees you. 

Your bedroom window is directly opposite his and he watches you like a movie. The window frame is his screen, your stage. You dance around boxes, floating in and out of frame. Jeremey feels like he’s caught in a trance. He can’t take his eyes off of you. He hasn’t seen someone his age, or his body’s age, in so long.

Finally some entertainment, he thinks as a mischievous grin tugs at corners of his mouth.

Jeremy continues to watch you unabashedly, mesmerized with your every move. Even a mundane activity like carrying a box becomes a source of wonder to him. Because you’re doing it. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as you grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You can’t see him, he reasons, so it doesn’t matter that he’s ogling you like some pervert. Drinking in the sight of you, soft tummy and simple black bra now on display. A long dormant feeling sneaks up on him. Lust. 

Just seeing your near naked torso does more for his libido than the few worn out playboys he managed to get his hands on before….  Jeremy snakes a hand down to palm his erection through his jeans and his eyes travel up to see your plush lips part. He tears his gaze from your mouth to look at your eyes, bright and wide with… terror?

You let out a piercing shriek that causes Jeremy to lose his balance. He falls from the window sill and tumbles down the roof, doing nothing to stop gravity from pulling him toward the earth below. Only one thought plays over and over in his mind.

Holy shit she can see me.

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

You thought no one lived next door! It’s not your fault that you screamed when you saw someone staring at you. Standing frozen in horror, you watch as the guy next door falls off his roof. When you hear the thud of his body hitting the ground, you jump into action. Pulling your shirt back on, you yank out your earbuds and run out of the house. 

His body is eerily still as you approach. 

Holy shit is he dead? 

You squat down to look at him.

“Um hey dude, are you alright?” you ask, regretting the question immediately.

Of course he’s not alright you idiot! He just fell off a roof for fucks sake!

“Okay so I’m just gonna call an ambulance…” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Reaching into your pocket to pull out your phone, the guy’s hand shoots out grabbing your wrist tightly. 

You freeze. His hand is strangely cool. You can’t say what it is, but something about his touch just feels…wrong. You suppress a shudder and quickly shake the thought from your mind.

“Please say something so I know you’re at least conscious,” you beg.

The guy on the ground starts shaking.

Fuck he’s crying. He must be really hurt.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” you coo. “Let’s roll you over and make sure you didn’t crack open your head or anything.”

The shaking becomes more intense, but he releases the vice grip from your wrist. As he rolls over onto his back, you realize his shaking isn’t from crying. This asshole is…laughing?

Greeeeaaaaat he’s in shock.

Even in a fit of laughter, you can't help but notice how attractive he is. He looks like an angel who thinks his fall from heaven is just some practical joke from god.

The guy moves to sit up, but you pin him to the ground by the shoulders. His laughter stops abruptly and his warm brown eyes meet yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you flush. 

“You can’t sit up that fast,” you scold, pulling away. “You could have like a concussion or something.”

He gives you a lopsided grin as he slowly pushes up to sitting. 

“I’m fine. I promise,” he says, holding out a hand to you. “I’m Jeremy.”

You hesitantly shake his hand. It’s still a little cool, but maybe he just runs cold? 

“I’m y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n” Jeremy says, grinning at you again before releasing your hand.

You look him up and down, trying to discern if he has a single injury from the fall. When your eyes drift back to Jeremy’s face, he’s blushing.

“Um.. like what you see?” he chuckles.

“What?” You ask, confused. “Oh! No no I wasn’t checking you out! I was just trying to see if you were hurt! You could’ve broken your neck with a fall like that…”

He barks out a laugh, startling you.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he says, crossing his heart. 

You’re not that easily convinced. Leaning in, you look intently at his eyes. As you’re trying to discern whether or not his pupils are the same size, Jeremy almost closes the distance between you. You feel the chill of his touch brush your jaw as he lightly holds your chin. Your faces are mere inches away now.

“Is this the part where we kiss?” He whispers. 

Your pulse begins to race as his breath ghosts across your lips. Now it’s your turn to blush. Pulling away, you take a few shaky breaths to try and calm your rapidly beating heart. 

“Sorry,” he laughs, leaning back on his hands. “You just looked so serious.”

You elbow him in the ribs. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He asks, rubbing his side in exaggerated pain.

“For staring at me like a creep upstairs!” You shout.

“Oh shit, right,” he groans, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “Look, I’m sorry about that y/n. I didn’t realize anyone would be moving in today and when I heard you singing I didn’t even think. I was mesmerized by you.”

Jeremy looks toward the ground, ears tipped pink as he twirls a blade of grass. 

Damn either this guy is smooth or he has no filter.

“Um it’s okay I guess,” you mumble. “I mean it’s also my fault for leaving the window open. I didn’t know anyone lived next door. I thought the realtor said it was for sale.”

Jeremy freezes, trying to come up with a reason to keep your suspicions at bay.

“Yeah, uh my parents have been trying to sell the place but haven’t had any luck I guess,” he suggests, glancing at you anxiously. 

Thankfully you seem to be oblivious to his lie. What reason would you have not to believe him?

“So anyway, what was the song you were singing earlier?” he asks.

“Oh! Here, I’ll show you.”

Pulling out your airpods, you hand one to him and pop the other in your ear. Jeremy follows your lead, wondering why you carry around a pair of broken earbuds when suddenly There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths fills his ear. 

“Woah, you know The Smiths?” He asks, turning to you excitedly.

“Yeah, I love The Smiths,” you sigh smiling, before singing along, “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.”

“How are you real?” he whispers, watching you bob your head to the music.

You are everything he could have dreamed of in a girl, and you can see him. Just before he could do something stupid like say he loves you or confess his darkest secrets, a voice calls from your front door.

“ y/n? I need help unpacking the kitchen! I can’t find a single fork anywhere!”

“I’ll be right there mom!” you shout back, before turning to Jeremy. “Sorry, I have to run. But I’ll see you around, okay?” 

He takes out the earbud and hands it back to you. This time when his fingers brush your waiting palm, it feels electric. Like a jolt of energy traveling through your entire body. The two of you linger there for a moment, barely touching, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I’ll be right here,” he says softly, grinning that lopsided grin again.

Breaking out of your daze, you hop up and jog to your house. Turning back right before you reach the door, you see Jeremy standing. He gives you a small, shy wave before you disappear inside. 

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

Jeremy has been waiting for you to go back to your room all evening. He’s kept his room dark, sitting in shadow by the window. Your ability to see him is a blessing and a curse, he’ll have to be sneaky to keep an eye on you. He’s not trying to be creepy, he just doesn’t want to scare you. 

Finally the lamp by your window turns on and you fill his vision.

Fuck, you are so pretty.

He wishes he could watch you for hours, memorizing each inch of your body, mapping all of your freckles and finding what spots drive you crazy. 

You flit about your room unpacking here and there. Occasionally you glance over towards his window, and he swears he can see your disappointment when you notice that it’s still dark. 

Don’t worry darling, I’ll make my presence known soon. 

With one last searching look his way, you begin undressing. You pop the button on your jeans and wriggle out of the tight fabric. Your bare legs and black panties have him panting. Jeremy doesn’t even feel bad for watching you right now. If you really didn’t want him to see, you’d close the curtains, right?

He imagines you must get a thrill, knowing he could come in at any minute and see you like this. On display just for him. His cock twitches at the thought and he reaches down to give it a tug, allowing himself just a bit of relief. 

His mouth waters as he stares at the sweet curve of your ass sway as you walk to another box. And then you bend over. 

In a split second, Jeremy’s cock is out and in his hand. The cool night air brings some reprieve from his burning desire and he sighs. Lazily, he strokes his cock to you as you pull books out of a box. He hopes the books are neverending, so he can watch you bend over so perfectly for him forever. 

This simple thought sparks an idea that takes hold of him. Pumping his cock with more urgency, Jeremy is quickly lost to a fantasy where he makes you like him. The idea of having you here, his companion, forever, he has to bite his shirt to hold back a moan. Bucking his hips into his fist, he imagines it’s you he’s fucking. Your sweet pussy, his-

“Forever,” he whispers toward you, and then he cums. 

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

You’re standing in your new room, digging through your box of books, when you hear music float in on the night air. It’s the same song you played for Jeremy earlier. You whirl around to look out the window and see him sitting at his desk across the way.

You flush, knowing he’s probably noticed your lack of pants. Pausing in front of the window, you take a second to really look at him. 

He’s a little strange, but he’s really cute… you reason. Plus he has great music taste. What’s a little harmless flirting between neighbors?

Ripping a page out of your notebook, you make a paper airplane with a message that reads -you have good taste- and throw it toward Jeremy’s house. With luck, it soars through the window landing right in front of him.

He studies the intrusion for a moment before his eyes flit up to meet yours. A grin dances across his lips as he picks up the paper to read your message. Laughing, he moves to sit on the window sill. You follow suit, dangling your legs out into the cool evening air.

“Careful, you could’ve put my eye out,” he playfully scolds.

“Says the guy who literally fell out of his window today,” you tease, as he rolls his eyes. 

“For real though, are you okay?” you ask, eyeing him warily.

“I’ve got a couple of bruises, but I’ll live,” he says, the lies effortlessly rolling off his tongue.

Jeremy briefly wonders just how many he’ll have to tell before you’re ready for the truth. 

“Well I see you’re copying my music taste now,” you tease.

“Woah woah woah, give me sec,” he says going back into his room.

Jeremy returns to the window with a vinyl cover of The Smiths in hand. 

“I promise I was listening to them way before you, kid.”

“Who are you calling kid?” you ask. “We’re literally the same age.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. 

“Something tells me you haven’t seen Casablanca.”

“Something tells me you’ll have to show me,” you reply with a wink.

“Come over tomorrow? I think I have the DVD around here somewhere,” he muses, looking around the room.

“Ooooo I love a guy who’s into physical media,” you giggle.

He laughs along. Although he’s not quite sure what you mean, he knows your laugh is one of the cutest sounds he’s ever heard. 

“Well then, it’s a date,” he says, grinning at you.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you muse, wishing that there wasn’t a chasm of darkness dividing you. Keeping you from finding out if Jeremy’s smile tastes as good as it looks. 

“You’d better get inside, it’s kind of cold out and you seem to have forgotten your, um, your pants,” he says blushing as he points at your bare legs.

“Oh sorry! I didn’t even notice!” you lie, batting your eyelashes innocently at him.

“Please don’t be sorry, I’m not complaining I promise,” he says, eyes shining with mischief. “I just don’t want you to get sick and flake on our date.”

You roll your eyes, rubbing your bare legs against the October chill.

“It can even be clothing optional if you want…” he suggests slyly.

You grab the closest thing to you, a big pink eraser, and hurl it at him across the divide, hitting him square in the chest.

“Shut up,” you laugh, swinging your legs back into your room. 

“If only you’d come over here and make me,” he sighs, watching as you grab the window frame. The slight stretch causes your shirt to ride up a little higher, showing off your stomach for him to enjoy.

“Goodnight, Jeremy,” you say, and you pull your window closed.

His name. You said his name.

Of course you said his name, that’s what people do. But hearing it from your lips, he’d do anything to have you say it again and again. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he whispers into the empty air. For the first time in years, he’s actually looking forward to another day.

Read part two here!

[justarandombrit]

Believe it or not, I did in fact go to see Spies Are Forever (you'd never know from looking at my blog), and, as usual, I wrote down some notes. My memory is shit so I'll probably update this with additions when I remember more, but for now, below the cut...

Act 1:

. They played Show Stoppin' Number and so many people were singing along

. It started midway through them playing The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

. Joey: “Sorry to anyone who thought they were seeing Wizard Of Oz. Although, this show has many friends of Dorothy”

. Emily Proudlock has a beautiful voice. The microphone was struggling a little at the start, though lmao

. THEY GOT AN ACTUAL BANANA PEEL

. Oliver Ormson (Owen) called Curt “Mega” which in the show he doesn't do until he becomes the DMA (not a criticism, just interesting)

. Owen said the “A man needs his privacy”(?) line, so Owen and Barb have officially interacted now

. I love Brian's Informant. His French accent was so over the top

. Brian stared at Clark when he said “The Deadliest Man Alive” until Clark played the keyboard sting. And then whenever anyone else said it throughout the show, he played it.

. They left in a huge awkward silence when the DMA was waiting for Sergio and it was so funny

. Sergio sounded so awkward when he said “You guys can relate, right?”

. Joey fucking SCREAMED “PLEASE!” during Sergio's little Somebody's Gotta Do It reprise

. “The Deadliest Man Alive disarms Mega and escapes”

“He does?”

. Dean John Wilson walked back on stage after his exit, said “The Deadliest Man” and left again

. Okay, so Claire M. Hall is a perfect Cynthia

. You guys are gonna crucify me for this, but I actually liked her Eyes On The Prize I better than Lauren's…

. Joey was making the weirdest faces during Eyes On The Prize II

. Curt cocked his head at Hallucination!Owen and Owen shrugged and mouthed “I don't know” at him

. I LOVE EMILY OOI’S BARB!!!!!! She did a cute little dance during “It's actually a gun!”

. Obioma (Curt) pretending his beard had been shaved lmao

. No Richard Big appearance sadly

. Curt was even more oblivious about Tatiana hitting on him than in the actual show

. The Nazi ensemble stuck around throughout the whole scene and kept gasping when Curt called them villains

. THEY MADE NOT SO BAD… EVEN MORE NOT SO BAD

. “SAY WE GOT A BIT LOST, WITH THE WHOLE HOLO–” *looks at ensemble* “ehh…”

. “WE DID ALL WE COULD DO TO poopoo THE JEW”

. They didn't make the audience chant, which was… probably for the best

. Von Nazi yelled “I'm a big boy! A BIG BOY” at Mega then walked off without using his knees

. Curt groaned and hung his head when the DMA said “I'm gonna torture the living shite outta you”

. Actually gasped at the overlapping “Doesn't even matter if I killed my best friend” and “To show you the horror of staying alive”, even though I knew it was coming

. The homoeroticism 🤌🤌🤌🤌

Act 2:

. I WAS ON THE SAME ROW AS A.J. FUCKING HOLMES AND DIDN'T NOTICE UNTIL JOEY SHOUTED HIM OUT

. Joey shouted out loads of cosplayers still in character as Vanger Borschtit

. Everyone was so excited about Vanger Borschtit, and Joey made everyone cheer for an acceptable amount of time “for his reel”

. The new We Love the Prince lyrics really are so much better (also what did he do to the Pope?!?!?)

. Vanger Borschtit was DISTRAUGHT when the prince died

. Obioma stared so blankly into the audience at “Or whatever it is you boys do in the rumpus room”

. I think out of all of the new cast members, Evelyn Hoskins (Tatiana) sounded the most like the original actor (she was also so cool)

. Obioma actually sung the little “Very good place to start” Sound Of Music reference and Tatiana looked so annoyed

. Tatiana was SO into Doing This up until the kiss (which wasn't a real kiss lmao)

. MRS MEGAAAAAAAAAA

. The lights flashed rainbow after the line “So we're just… friends?”

. Curt looked straight at Barb when he said “Some of us may die”

. Curt paused before he drank the shot, and then started drinking a load and everyone stared at him, really concerned. It was a really neat piece of acting

. Von Nazi kept stressing how he had no idea how Feurgin was killed

. The Informant looked so concerned at the start of NSB reprise, then actually kinda got into it

. Jak Malone (Von Nazi) made his death SO DRAMATIC. He fell to the ground and went “Ow, my back! Ow, my front! Ow, my…self” and then got up and bowed

. Owen stood behind the DMA and they just spun around while Joey narrated

. Joey: “THE DEADLIEST MAN ALIVE FALLS DOWN THROUGH A HIDDEN TRAP DOOR IN THE STAGE–”

. ONE STEP AHEAD JSTSKTKEYYKDKFYFUHDYSWWGDJFKGKFDHSGSTSFJKGKGKGJDSYSYIFKF I'M NOT OKAY

Dean: *Crouch-walks away*

. Owen stared directly at Curt (and addressed him instead of Tatiana) when he said “Don't slip up” and loads of people “Ooh”ed

. Owen seemed actually on the verge of tears in Spies Are Forever (Reprise)

. He also fully yelled “You're a caveman!”

. They changed the line “Taking your advice” to “Moving on”, just like Curt (I think it was Curt? Edit: IT WAS JOEY) wanted in the livestream

. The speech before Spy Again (Reprise) was so good. Everyone came out on stage and it was all just incredible

. SPIES ARE FOREVER, IT'S A MUSICAAAAAAAAALLLLLL……. IT'S ABOUT SPIES!

[emmafreakecreations]

Rhysand is not morally grey- He's just an asshole

Rhys stans will say, "He did all those things UTM to protect Feyre and for the greater good!" and then proceed on a lengthy explanation of his reasons.

No no no no. I understand WHY he did it, I just don't agree with his methods. And there is NEVER a good reason to SA someone.

And yes he did SA Feyre. He drugged her- couldn't get verbal consent from her- and then proceeded to touch her everywhere/ make her dance on his lap, while MAKING her wear revealing clothes. But- but he didn't touch her privates! It doesn't matter he still touched her waist and for most people I know that is in the no no square. It's still touching someone without consent, taking away people's choice about their own body is abuse. And that includes him not telling her about her pregnancy. He didn't want to stress her out! That doesn't matter, she has every right to know about what is going on with her body, knowing her options so she can make an informed decision of what she wants to do. In our world that's literally a violation of HIPAA. And if anything it's more stressful not knowing what is going on with your body. You're bringing real world standards into a fantasy world! SJM already did that by bringing her white 21st century feminism into this world and you guys are often treating Lucien and Nesta based on real world standards so I can do that too.

But Feyre forgave him, so you should too. That's her prerogative but if I was in her shoes I wouldn't. Because his long ass monologue that's TEN PAGES never once said the words "I'm sorry for doing that to you." It's only giving his reasons which to me sound like excuses, because there was definitely another way he could protect her without causing her bodily harm. He could have just left her in her cell and sent her mental images of happy things to keep her sane. He could have just communicated with her through her mind. He needed to keep a rouse up because Amarantha was suspicious! No where in the text does it mention that Amarantha wanted Feyre at those parties. For all she cared Feyre could just go die in her cell from infection and she would win. By Rhys bringing her to those parties he put more of a target on her and raised Amarantha's suspicions. And after rereading the monologue some things in Rhys's plan UTM is inconsistent.

"I decided, then and there, that I was going to fight. And I would fight dirty, and kill and torture and manipulate, but I was going to fight. If there was a shot of freeing us from Amarantha, you were it. I thought … I thought the Cauldron had been sending me these dreams to tell me that you would be the one to save us. Save my people." (pg 448 Ch 54- I have a pdf and idk if that lines up with physical prints)

cool fine. but then he proceeds to say two paragraphs later that he was mad that Tamlin didn't get Feyre out when he had the chance. This does not make sense because if Feyre leaves how tf is she supposed to save everyone. She already has a deal with Amarantha to save people and sure she might die but leaving is not going to save everyone.

"I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain. And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you.." (Ch 54 pg 448)

After rereading this I'm convinced this man didn't have much a plan and if anything initially was doing these things out of cruelty and just because he could. His plan makes no sense if you really think about it. Once he got the hots for Feyre, he back tracked. His plan to piss Tamlin off so that he killed Amarantha makes no sense, because Tamlin has already delt with this woman not respecting him saying no, disfigured his best friend, cursed him, and is now trying to kill his lover. I don't think he needs more motivation.

But he is morally grey! no he isn't. Most morally grey characters who have a love interest, at least I have encountered never bodily harm her. They have a line they will not cross- they have morals. Rhysand seems to not have a line-no morals- to me he's more amoral. Carden Greenbriar bullied his love interest and did some heinous shit, but he had a line he wouldn't cross-murder. He does not like murder. When the bullying got to a point where Jude could die, he stepped in and he saved her. Jun-pyo from boys over flowers also bullied his love interest basically because of how he was raised he has no understanding how to show love (similar to Cardan). He got the whole school bullying her just because she stood up to him. But when some students tried to sexually assault her he got pissed at them and told them he never said to do anything like that. He also has a line he won't cross, sexual assault.

to quote my good in real life friend @that-sarcastic-writer , who has endured my rants about this series. Who reads dark romance and who I have summerized this series to:

"You don't have him hurt her and SA her and then later you try to backtrack by having him cry about his love for her without truly apologizing. And that's my biggest issue with most dark romance mmcs. They actively hurt/SA the fmc but then oh she liked it and he loves her deep down. Cause it's one thing to "hurt" the fmc emotionally, like a third act breakup, and that's fine, that's human, people make mistakes and fight, but you can't convince me physically hurting or assaulting the fmc is something that can be forgiven with claims of love."

Anyways Rhysand is red flags everywhere and is not a person you should strive to date. Date more men like Lucien. If you like Rhys and are just like, "I like him, I know he's toxic." You do you but don't try to convince me he is a hero, he is only a villain to me.

[vaulthistorian]

With You Nearby.

Summary: Spending a nice evening by the fire with Joshua, and things get a little out of hand.

CW: Really none, readers gender/identity is not specified. No NSFW, but alluded to.

~~~

The stars in the sky reminded you of the path you were on. The glimmering light that freckled the dark blanket of the vast expanse beyond made you feel less alone on these colder nights. The Mojave rarely got cold, but the odd times you'd hit a dead zone in radiation the temperature would drop.

You were glad for your cloak and armor, it weighed you down and added some warmth to your body.

Of course you'd not come alone, as was evident by the shuffling on the rock across from you. But oftentimes the warmth of another couldn't stop you from feeling singled out by the horrors of the world that persist to taunt you. They exist for no other reason than to cause you pain.

"Falling asleep on me?" The near baritone voice of your favorite Mormon survivalist. His tone was scratchy, the lack of water from Zion left him quieter than usual, as he had less strength to cast his voice.

You tilted your head, catching him in your view as you lay on the cool rock ground, a hint of a smile gracing your lips.

"Thinking."

He hummed in response, gripping two stones between his hands and striking them together. The crashing rocks sending sparks toward a small pile of sticks and grass that you'd accumulated over the course of your journey.

He exhaled shortly when the sparks caught on some dried patches of grass, little flickers of warmth rising up from the heart and catching on.

"We'll be warm tonight." He said as he sat, his eyes looking across the fire at you. In the darkness you couldn't see his eye color, on the flames that rose and danced within the snare of his intense gaze.

Although you still liked to think of the sea blue gaze that you'd catch along the dusty roads back to a place you'd dared to call home.

Joshua was alright to follow you, he didn't protest when you brought him from Zion, and when you saw to it that his people made a sayve journey back to their refuge. Then he decided he'd follow, wherever you led he would not hesitate. Not like he used to. He was no coward.

"Get closer." Joshua broke the silence again when he noticed your shivers in the warm glow the fire cast over the pale light.

You couldn't help thinking if he meant for you to get closer to the fire or him. In any sense, he meant the fire.

You shuffled a bit closer, bringing your feet toward the lapping flames and they selflessly warmed your flesh.

"It should only be a little longer, then we can get off our feet and rest in proper beds." You said to Joshua, your hands locking around your knees in a curled position.

"As long as we make pace." Joshua relaxed with the fire going, taking out his bible from the rucksack he'd come to carry for you. Despite it having gone through a lot, it held on, allowing Joshua to hold the leather in his hands once more.

He was peaceful when he read, the atmosphere was not too tough, but not too loose. You were content with him.

The sounds of critters rummaging in the night had you shifting, crawling to the right of Joshua, the other side of the rucksack. His gaze flicked from his book to you as you drew closer. He didn't say anything, but opened an arm invitingly so that you may come closer.

"What are you reading?" You asked him softly. You didn't always care, and yet you knew he enjoyed sharing from time to time.

"Job 1:20 forward." He replied simply, feeling you press into his side, your body seeking out his warmth. Joshua wrapped his arm around your shoulder, keeping his hand curled loosely so it did not touch you.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" He asked softly, tilting his head a bit and showing you the passage.

You shuffled and brought your hand to his chest. "Mm, no thanks, I'd rather just watch you." You teased, your finger lightly guiding his head toward you.

"Oh, would you? Don't want a late night bible story?" He asked back as your fingers came up to his jaw, running the pad of your thumb over the warm bandages.

"You could... Say some other things to me, but I don't know if the bible is the right thing." You teased and stroked his chin, and he discarded the book gently down onto the Mojave dune. His arms wrapped around you, dipping you down against the ground and leaning against your ear.

"You know how I'd love to do that..." He pressed his mouth right beside your ear, situating himself between your hips.

You situated yourself and pulled your duster off, teasing your fingers under his vest, against his bandages. "Who else is gonna sleep with you out here? I'm sure the big man upstairs wouldn't mind." You teased, feeling his hands drag you a smidge closer to his hips.

Joshua bristled with a sense of excitement, and he willed himself to believe you were right. He kissed your cheek, then your mouth, and brought your hips into his lap to undo your belt.

"Let's hope you're right..."

[t0rturedangel]

can i have some yandere!Vox using his mind control powers on the reader??

╭ . . . 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 ੭

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 ! 𝐕𝐎𝐗 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♰ ৎ﹕𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦

WOOO VOX STUFF, ngl vox is my favorite out of the three vees (idk much abt velvette and i fucking HATE valentino)

✧⠀⨾ the only way he'd ever hypnotize you was if you dared to leave him- i mean who would leave him HIM?? the cool, chill guy Vox, the guy who anyone can trust with their stuff? How could you, in the name of lucifer himself, dare to leave just like that?

✧⠀⨾ you used some lame excuses too, "oh you're scaring me!" "This isnt healthy or alright in the slightest" like seriously? that's not even that serious! all he wants is for you to stay with him. BY HIM. that's all he's asking, is it too much?

✧⠀⨾ fuckin must be, since now you're sobbing and grabbing bunches of clothes- throwing them into a small, very pathetic suitcase so you'd have something when you ran away.

✧⠀⨾ you see, now, now you've went too far- now vox has to step in, which will not be good for anyone.

Through tears in your eyes you grabbed even more clothes, stuffing them all into your [ favorite coloured ] suitcase, occasionally blinking tears away or rubbing them off of your face. Vox went mad, he was always weird to you during the later period of your relationship- always too touchy and manic, too close to you. Yes, the two of you were dating, and everyone thought it was fine- you and vox were happy together. That was true, at least at the start of this twisted relationship, Vox genuinely seemed to care, to love you and would never dare to hurt you, he said so himself.

Yet, recently he's been acting so off- so wrong. Before he was kind, gentle, never forced you to do anything you didn't want to, but now? Lucifer, what happened to him? What happened to that man that you cared and loved so much, what infected his mind? You ,it seemed, were the answer- he changed because of you of how much he "loves" you. he hates seeing other sinners get too close to you- his precious angel- one who should be untouched by the filth of imps and lower sinners, he even went as far as to ban you from seeing the other vees (who you grew decently close to, earning their respect), he seemed to adore the fact that he controlled every aspect of your life and that you failed to notice it at first, too blinded by your love for him, for everything he did for you before the relationship became official- it was so foreign to see him like that now that you knew, that you've opened your eyes and saw the true intent of his actions, now you're scared, horrified.

Through your hysterics, as Vox labeled them when you first began to cry over all of this, you failed to notice that very same 'boyfriend' (you cringed at calling him that, that thing was not your boyfriend- was it ever your boyfriend?) standing in the door frame, his screen glitching with annoyance and screeching out quiet static noises that seemed for familiar yet so eerie, and his eye wider than the other- a beautiful black swirl dancing around on a red background, such an entrancing sight ❝ babe. ❞ you heard his voice, so distorted and full of displeasure making you shrieked out of almost pure instinct and turned your body so fast you almost has whiplash- eyes wide at the sight of Vox, a horror engraved into your [eye colour] irises . Your body began to tremble it felt almost natural to fear Vox, of what he'd do- he want others to imagine him as this stupid cool guy, who has not a care in the world but you knew what he was truly like. you knew what he was, what he said, what he felt about the other desperate sinners.

❝ go away vox- im not your 'babe' im leaving❞ it was barely above a whisper but sounded so loud in your head, so very loud. That one sentence could have leaft you deaf, you wish it did- wishing it left you deaf and blind so you didnt have to hear his voice, coated in an artificial love, dripping with his real poisonous intent, or see his face- that face you loved to see plastered around the pride ring, the face that now glared at you. ❝ Dont be like that [name]- you know you're my [girlfriend/boyfriend/lover] you cant leave me ❞ his voice, still laced with that distortion didn't register in your head, it's like you didn't even hear it- like you really went deaf.

you could hear his steps echo through the room and that confidences you held a meer second ago- drained from your stature immediately. A fear washed over you, overwhelming your body... Millions of questions raced through your tormented mind all desperate to be your sole focul. „ what will he do? ” „will he kill me? Torture me? Sell me off to some beggar?”

Those questions, such meaningless questions you thought, will never be answered. Though do not fear, Vox cherishes you too much to allow you to be in harm's way of anyone else- he just loves you so much, so much so that he'll forgive this silly little attitude of yours just this once: next time he won't be as forgiving. Though, in all his honesty there won't ever be a 'next time' and all he needed to prevent this was for you to look at his eyes, to just give him one glimpse, it's like deja vu for you ist it? What were you thinking? Those fears, those worries and silly little thoughts of leaving him should have never been thought in the first place, oh how could you be so horrible to think that your loving boyfriend Vox would EVER be so controlling and terrible? My dear, Vox only wants what's best for you, and whats best for you if to stay with him! That's all you need to do, he'll do all the hard work, he'll get his hands dirty, he'll protect you. No one else can do what he does, no other overlord, no other vee, no sinner, not even Lucifer himself can keep you safe like how he can.

after all, he just loves you too much to let you leave, and why would you? being with him had never been better. Though now Vox re-thinks letting you think for yourself again, after all last time he did you wanted to leave.

That cannot happen again. NEVER again.