#I will however state that I have only ever tasted my own blood so it could just be that my blood tastes good

[lovelesslittleloser]

Does stabbing your gums count as self-harm? Because I am bleeding but also this feels like the correct thing to do

[mrsriddlenott]

~ BET ~

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader(kinda implied kook)

Warnings: Smut, Dry Humping, Thigh Riding, Edging, lil bit of Daddy Kink, d/s Dynamics, Creampie, Papa Jay. Kinda Proofread.

Please point out any mistakes

{masterlist}

————

JJ hadn’t even considered how difficult NNN would be, when the idea came up between him, John B, and Pope he thought it would be the easiest 40 bucks he had ever made. He didn’t need to finish to have fun, he could make you come undone with two fingers, easy. However, he gravely underestimated how much you needed him to be inside you, no matter how many times he had you cumming on his fingers and tongue in a day, he would still have to hold back through all of your begging that night.

JJ hadn’t noticed how much he spoiled you until now, he would have you underneath him or between him and a wall every day, sometimes twice if he could. And you had gotten used to that treatment. “But what about me Jay?” You pouted, looking up to him with those big, sad eyes when you came to the Chateau that night, and he knew he messed up. There was no way he was gonna make it because he didn’t realize he had you addicted to his cock until you were already fiending for it. All on account of his stupid bet.

And it just got harder from there.

Your lips grazed against the back of his neck, your hands feeling the tense muscles in his lower back as they danced across his skin, “Please Jay, I can’t wait, I want you now,” JJ held back a groan, his eyes fluttering shut when your hands made there way around to his front, hidden under his shirt where your fingers traced down his happy trail, testing him and pushing him further. He felt himself twitch in his cargo shorts, hardening almost immediately as your scent surrounded him, the feeling of your soft fingers almost sending him over the edge.

“It’s only day one Gorgeous, don’t test me.” He stated, his hands stopping yours when your fingers began playing with the button on his shorts as if they had a mind of their own. You groan behind him, retracting your arms and the warmth that came with them from around him, crossing them over your chest teasingly.

“You know I won’t tell them if you crack Jay, they would never know.” He sighed, head falling back before turning to watch you walk away from him, the sassy little swing in your hips almost making him jump at the offer. Almost.

But, his rejection sure as hell didn’t stop you from trying, if anything it egged you on further.

————

“What if I just sit on it Jay, I’ll warm you and when you’re about to cum I’ll get off Baby, I promise.” JJ chuckled at the desperate tone in your voice from below you, his head leant against the back of the couch displaying his Adam’s apple that bounced up and down every time your hips moved against him again. “Please Jay, I wanna feel you.”

“Nuh uh Princess, I know you can’t control yourself,” He laughed through a groan, the desperation of his voice making you speed up, proving him right. The friction building between you two becoming too much for him, your hips speeding up even more to chase the high he can’t have. He watches your chest rise and fall quicker as you drop your head into his shoulder, whining in his ear the closer you get to your release. You can feel him twitching against your clothed cunt every time you clench against nothing.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you through my underwear Jay?” His teeth dig into his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood, he’s testing himself now seeing how close he can get to the edge before he stops himself. Part of him just wants to let it happened, but he can’t lose in the first week, he would never hear the end of it, “Fuck Baby I am so sorry.” He groaned into your neck, tugging you up by your hips, moving to the side and aggressively pushing you down to reconnect with his thigh.

His large hands keep your rhythm when you falter, pushing you and tugging you against his thigh, pulling whines from your throat and making you twitch in his lap. Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging on it uncontrollably while the band in your abdomen tightens. Your slick coats his leg forcing him to bite into your shoulder to control himself, whining into your flesh every time your knee brushes his tip, edging himself even further. You stutter and gasp, twitching against his thigh and soaking his shorts, his hands slow with your hips speed. Your watery eyes looked to him and his dick strained against his zipper further.

“You’re taking this so seriously, if I wasn’t so pissed at you I’d actually be kind of proud,” Your voice was breathy and came out strained, your glossy eyes held onto his, the little pout you had making him twitch and groan.

“I’m pissed at myself too,” He sighed, letting his head fall back into the crook of your neck, “I’ll tell ya’ what, if JB breaks soon, I’ll let Pope win and then you can ride me all you want Mama.”

“Really?! For me?” You squeak, so excited you would be embarrassed if you weren’t with JJ, “Fuck you’re amazing you know that?” You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your fingers tangle into his hair again. Your soaked panties rubbing against his still hard cock, mixed with the sting your nails left at the base of skull forcing a whimper from his throat, and you know right then there is no way he is lasting the whole month.

————

“Cleo just texted me and Sarah, she broke Pope,” You giggled, typing away on your phone, his blue eyes watching you more intently than usual, just as they had been for the last ten days, “I kinda thought he would beat you both honestly.” You stated, tossing your phone beside you on the bed he made his before crawling over his thighs, his semi-hard cock already pressing against your entrance when you settle. He was so used to fucking you every night before you both slept in each other’s arms, that his body seemed to be prepared for it. Every time he looked at you recently he felt like he was about to bust, he was never doing this again. He decided he wouldn’t even be taking a trip without you ever again.

“Do you wanna fuck me now Jay?” Your breath fans across his ear and JJ bangs his head against the bed frame with a groan, your lips trail down the warm, salty skin on his neck stopping at the spot he loved the most and licking a stripe back up to his ear. You were desperate he could tell, and he absolutely loved it, and hated not being able to take care of it.

“Baby, you know I said if JB breaks….” He sighs into your skin, “Now I gotta win Princess, especially now that I know you thought I would lose.”

“Nooo, Jay, you can not imagine how horny I have been without you inside me,” you whined against the shell of his ear, exaggerating your neediness only a bit to try and get him to crack, “I won’t tell, not even Sarah.”

“Oh but Baby, that’s not winnin’,” He tsked, grabbing your cheeks, tugging your pouting face away and forcing eye contact, “If you wait I’ll use the bet money on anything you want.”

“I jus’ want you Daddy please.” You gripped his shoulders, thinking you knew exactly what the nickname would get you. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you began to rock your hips slightly, wanting him to finally give you what you want.

“Oh so that’s what you’re gon’ do huh?” His head tilted, slipping into his more dominant personality on instinct, his jaw twitching, his large hand gripping your hair in a flash, tugging it back and exposing your neck to him, “You can’t play that card and win Princess you know I’m in charge here.” He whispered into the flesh of your neck before his lips began their assault, sending a shiver down your spine and heating your abdomen even more than it had been.

“Do you want me to make it even worse for you Gorgeous,” he teased, “You can join me in this bet if that’s what you really want? I’ll bring you right up to the edge,” he whispered, his free hand slowly falling into your shorts to tease the hem of your underwear, “And then pull you right back with me.” He finished with a chuckle, snapping his hand out of your shorts, leaving you whining and wiggling against him.

“That’s no fair, you always make me cum, even when you’re mad.” You lean away from him and he lets you, resting you on his thighs before crossing your arms across your chest in the teasing way you know he likes. Shoving your breasts together right in his face, playing up the bratty attitude to get what you want.

“I make you cum when you’re good, and since you chose to pull out the Daddy card when you know damn well I can’t slip out of control until I finish,” He sighed between his words, eyes bouncing between your eyes and cleavage, controlling himself before he just fucks you right now, “Now you need to deal with his consequences.”

Your smile grows on your face, giggling at his words before you speak, “Okay, okay, I did do it on purpose but only because I need you so much.”

“Ah ah ah,” The teasing tone of his voice knocks your smile right off your face and you know you messed up, “I am dead serious, you’re stuck now Sweetness, you fucked up and now Papa Jay is gonna get what he wants. If you don’t act right I am gonna watch you beg for release every singe time I wanna fuckin’ cum until I can, do you understand me?”

Your eyebrows squeeze together, watching his face for a sign of hesitation, but the dominance stays. You whine as you wiggle your way off his legs to lat beside him, scowling at him before turning your back to him and laying down for bed. “If you change your mind in the middle of the night don’t hesitate to….wake me up, but only if you wanna fuck me awake.” You tease, wiggling your hips to poke out your pantie clad ass cheeks his direction.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that in the morning Gorgeous,” He laughed, slotting himself behind you in the dark, his arm pulling you into him and moaning in your ear at the feeling of your ass against his tightening boxers. You wiggled against him, pushing into him as he pushes back, his large hand splayed out on your lower abdomen tugging you impossibly closer. In one quick motion his leg locks against yours and his arms tighten around you, halting your movements as he speaks into your ear.

“Goodnight Baby, I love you so fucking much,” He growls into your ear, halting for a second to nip at your flesh before continuing, “and when I win this bet I am gonna give you the best dick of your life I promise you.” You whine again, desperately trying to run your thighs together for some type of friction.

“I love you too Jay, but I still want it now.” You huff, stopping your feeble attempts at movement at his soft, sleepy laugh behind you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” He says with a yawn before you’re both slipping into a restless, sweaty sleep tangled together.

————

Your phone lights up beside you on your bedside table, prompting you to grab it and read Sarah’s message in the group chat made for your fellow victims of NNN. “Fuck yes.” You whispered under your breath as you typed out your response, letting them both know your man was the winner. The smile grew bigger on your face when your eyes met JJ’s as he entered your bedroom, his shirt was discarded, allowing your eyes to trace the drops of water left behind after he brushed his teeth as they make a pathway through his chiseled abs.

"See somethin' ya like?" He asks with a teasing smirk that widens into a grin when you toss your phone aside for him, sticking your arms out silently begging him to join you on the bed, wanting to finally feel his skin against yours again. He stalks towards your bed, eyes on you intently as you wiggle in excitement at his proximity,

"Who were you texting?" He asks, his voice deep and demanding, as though he would throw the bet away if you answered wrong.

You smile even wider at his question, "Sarah and Cleo." You state matter of factly, crawling towards JJ where he stands at the foot of the bed. His eyes follow your movements closely, taking notice of the fact that you had already shed your pants for bed. Your hips rocked teasingly the closer you got to him, your cleavage free of if it's usually confines was visible entirely from his angle above you. You stood on your knees proudly when you finally reacher him, drifting your hand across his chest, letting it slowly fall lower while he groans at the contact.

"If you stop right now I promise I will fuck you tomorrow whether John B breaks or not." He growls, dropping his head as though he was ashamed, gripping your hand to stop it's decent. He knew if he let it fall any further he would lose control. You only giggled in response, leaning your head up to reach his ear, leaving a trail of kisses and bites behind as you did so.

"You know JB already broke right?" You whisper even though you knew he didn't, giggling when JJ’s head shoots back into place immediately. His ears excitedly perked up at your words like a golden retriever, eyebrows furrowed as if to ask if you were lying to him.

"Really?" His voice comes out forced, loosening his grip on your hand and letting it continue it's pursuit past the hem of his boxers. Sighing at the contact of your cold fingers against the steaming temperature of his skin when he lets you wrap your fingers around his base.

"Yup, Sarah just texted me and Cleo, she got him, you won Baby," Your sultry voice in his ear sends tingles all over his body, "Do you want your prize Daddy?"

“Oh, fuck yes I do.” JJ was on you in seconds, shoving you hard down against your soft bed, maneuvering your body around so he could slot himself between your thighs where he belongs. His hand fell between your bodies, carelessly tugging the hem of his boxers down just enough to let himself spring free, not caring to grab a condom in his haste. He quickly uses two fingers to tug your underwear aside before sinking into fully in one thrust, a broken, strangled sigh escaping his lips as he immediately sets a slow pace. His gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut above you causing a wide, triumphant smile to to grow across your face.

“Yeah I am not gon’ last long, fuck.” He whines, dropping his head to groan against the flesh of your neck. Your hands find hold on his shoulders as you dig your nails into his back, marking him and holding on to your release as it builds for the first time in days. His lips latch onto your skin forcing you to moan his name, his pace picks up while he pushes himself up on one hand beside your head wanting to watch your face when you come undone for him. His free hand runs it’s way down your side to grip your hip and hold you steady while he thrusts into you. You can feel him against you as you clench around him, earning a strangled mix between a moan and a groan from JJ’s throat, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains his composure. You can feel how close he is, his tip hitting just the right spot every time but becoming frantic while his mumbled words become slightly incoherent.

“If you let me cum inside I’ll buy you Plan B.” JJ huffed out above you, his eyebrows crinkling in concentration, trying to hold himself back, his blue eyes getting lost in yours again. He didn’t want to pull out, he had edged himself too much and he didn’t want to risk doing it again. His eyes fell to where you connected, watching the way his dick thrusted in and out of you making a mess on the sheets below. You sucked him in so perfectly that he wanted to stay inside forever.

“No shit, I know you will.” Your fingers melt into his hair, tugging his eyes back up to yours while you speak, “You can cum in me whenever you want Jay.” Your moan mingles with your words, accentuated by his final, hardest thrust before he stutters and twitches inside of you, collapsing on top pf you while his warm cum fills you and leaks past him onto the bed.

Your nails tickle against his back, your other hand playing with his hair, content while you stay connected as your breathing comes back to normal. JJ’s face rests in your neck, his breath fanning your skin as he wraps his arms around you fully. “I may have only lasted 12 days Mama, but I won us 40 bucks.”

“Okayyy but 12 days is still impressive for us,” You respond with a chuckle, tugging his hair to force eye contact with you, “It could have been day one Jay ya’ know.” He groans, his eyes fluttering shut again as his hands begin to run their way up his shirt you so often wear to bed, pinching at your hardening nipples and watching your eyebrows furrow in response.

“Round two?” JJ asks, biting at his lip and staring up at you with desperate eyes. You can feel his cock beginning to harden inside of you, your walls tightening around him at the feeling.

“Well you did say I could ride you Daddy.” Your voice comes out in a beg and you watch JJ’s face as it changes into a dominant scowl despite your growing smile. His jaw ticks and his tongue pushes his cheek out slightly at your words. JJ shoves himself off of you leaving you feeling empty while he settles on his knees. His dick bounces proudly in front of him as he tugs your panties down your legs before ridding himself of his own. You waste no time in removing your shirt and watching his mouth water at the sight of your bare chest as you tug yourself impatiently onto his lap.

You sink onto him, filling yourself up again with a sigh as his cock hits every spot perfectly. You bounce on him, setting a steady pace that your thighs can handle. JJ however, knows how much of a pillow princess you are, preemptively dragging his hands down your sides and to your hips, squeezing them lightly to let you know he can take over whenever you want. Your lips crash into JJ’s in a messy kiss, your tongues battle as your breath mixes. Moaning in each other’s mouths while your hands find perch on his shoulders.

JJ’s lips fall to your jaw, groaning into his kisses, nipping at your neck every time you speed up or slow down. You whine in his ear, your fingers finding his hair and tugging at it as you slow, telling him to take control of you completely. JJ’s wicked smirk widens, his hands tightening on your hips, his lips falling to suck your nipple into his mouth and swirl his tongue against it. His finger nails dig into your flesh as he starts to bounce you against his thighs, making you whine and grind into him further. “Faster Jay please.”

“You like that Princess?” JJ teases, his hands on your hips guiding you up and down his cock at a faster pace, “Do you like ridin’ Papa Jay Sweetheart?” He coos, tilting his head to watch you bounce on him, matching the pace he set as he thrusts up into you.

————

I think JJ is definitely the typa guy who talks ab himself in the 3rd person during sex😂

Idk how yall feel about Papa Jay but😮‍💨😮‍💨

[cameronspecial]

Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases. 

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.” 

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,” she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.” 

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.” 

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall. 

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it. 

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity. 

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[y-rhywbeth2]

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #1

Feeding and Diet It's actually more complicated than just "they bite you and eat your blood." Plus what they're able to eat; how often they need to eat; what happens to you if they bite you and what happens to them if they don't feed- spoiler: it's unpleasant. Incidentally, you should reload and kill Cazador again.

(I was comparing stuff across editions and compiling it into something more coherent and then figured I'd info dump about it in case my fixations are useful to somebody out there.)

DISCLAIMER: There are two things to note about the lore presented here: First, while the standard stat block in the monster manual is the default, in terms of lore vampires have this annoying tendency to be incredibly, stupidly varied. They are magical monstrosities ruled by the power of symbolism and superstition above anything else.

The next is that D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest.

Basically, in D&D, canon is what you decide it is.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

They only need to feed once in a 24 hour period. Vampires can survive between 3-9 months of starvation, but it's a terrible idea. -

There are three different categories of "Undead Hunger." Vampires have two of them and actually need to consume more than one thing to stay "healthy": Blood and life force. -

The blood is obvious. This is categorised as a "diet dependency." It's required to preserve their bodies and powers, and without it their powers* are suppressed as their bodies begin to shut down. *This refers to the powers a vampire gains with age; they cannot lose power they had as a newborn (the base stat blocks given for vampires and spawn given in the monster manual) A vampire requires the equivalent of 12 hit points of blood a day, or it begins to revert into a corpse-like state. Mentally they slowly regress into a desperate, mindless animal frenzy where they'll kill and drain anything containing blood they can get their hands on. Ultimately, if they don't get any blood then they revert into a corpse and they're trapped in their own body as it begins to wither and mummify. They're trapped in a coma, vaguely aware of the passing of time in flashes of awareness until somehow they are fed blood. If they ever wake up again, they will probably wake up feral and absolutely ravenous. -

Vampires rely on the victim's blood pressure to expel blood from the wound they create, lapping and mouthing at the wound rather than actually sucking on it. Being bitten is a highly pleasurable experience that victims can't help but desire, even when they know they shouldn't. -

While the damage done remains, the wounds from a Vampire bite closes itself quickly after the feeding (assuming you're still alive). It does however leave a mark. The bite mark itself is often "less than half an inch in length", and leaves behind a significant bruise that causes no pain or sensitivity to touch. Other side effects include fatigue and a weakened immune system. -

Vampires typically target sleeping victims (less likely to fight back) and favour the blood of their own race above others. So theoretically, Astarion finds elf blood tastes best. -

Drinking animal blood tastes bland and is health-wise akin to drinking tainted water: yes it might keep you alive in desperate times, but it's ultimately bad for you and will probably make you ill. That said, it has no mechanical detriments and a vampire that's forced to live on animal blood will be just as strong as its kin, but considerably bad tempered about it. -

A vampire's secondary feeding requirement is called an "inescapable craving", which means that if a vampire doesn't get that fix then their hunger begins to devour them instead. The pain is described as a spike boring into the vampire's brain, obscuring their awareness. They begin to obsess over feeding to the exclusion of everything else, they become willing to take ridiculous levels of risk to stop the hunger as they become more and more desperate. As they are consumed they become progressively more feral until they're just a rampaging mindless horror driven only by horrific hunger. For vampires, their inescapable craving is life force, which a vampire leeches from their prey through touch leaving the victim weak. Direct skin contact isn't required, if you're wearing full plate and/or the vampire is wearing gloves and they lay a hand on you they can still drain you. Mechanically these were combat abilities, energy/level draining occurred when a vampire struck a target with their own body (usually their hands). Before 5e hit them with a nerf bat, vampires could permanently weaken you this way (you could lose character levels from this). 5e also seems to have rolled life drain into the biting, so a vampire can consume your blood and energy at the same time. -

Post feeding, a vampire starts to look alive. Their skin is flushed and warm and they feel elated and energetic. In contrast, a vampire that hasn't been feeding properly becomes more corpse like and feels "sluggish" (I'm interpreting that as flu-like symptoms). It's purely emotional however, the vampire is no less capable and dangerous and suffers no mechanical penalties. -

Vampires can feed on other vampires, which is actually more filling than living humanoid blood and gives them the ability to communicate telepathically for a few hours. They don't like it though. If a vampire drinks from another vampire then they can be controlled by that vampire and the link forces them to feel affection for each other against their will until it wears off. The results of both vampires in question feeding on each other is described as "debilitating" since they both paradoxically become enslaved to the other's will and forced to "love" each other creating an absolute dysfunctional mess of control, obsession and resentment. The good news is that it only lasts a few hours. -

Some vampires can eat regular food (no nutritional value in it for them) while others would regurgitate it if they tried. As they retain their tongues, vampires can also taste food. That said, it's a bad idea for them to eat garlic, even if they can eat solid food. -

Some kinds of vampires don't drink blood. There's all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff a vampire might be required to consume instead. Spinal fluid stands out. Or the bit about ones who drain the ocular fluid from your eyes. Gale might find interesting things to talk about with the magic eating ones who prey on mages. They're much less common, probably something to do with most people not finding that very sexy. I don't think any of them exist on Toril.

[atzgo]

A Race Against Darkness: The Curse of the Dark Mark

summary: In a thrilling race against time, Professor Tom Riddle and Nadia Potter face a dire challenge when a cursed dark mark mysteriously appears on Nadia's skin. The mark, pulsing with dark magic, threatens to consume her entirely. As the curse's influence grows stronger, Nadia's energy starts to fade away.

Content Warnings: a whole lot of angst, blood, dark magic and curses, vomiting, mentions of torture, physical contact between professor and student (no smut)

Word Count: 8.1 k

A/N: I tagged this fic as x reader however the female character does have a mentioned name "Nadia Potter", the name only pops up once maybe twice but that's it, her brother Harry is thrown in there but never mentioned by name only referred to as "her brother" twice, physical description of Nadia is never described.

This is also my first ever fic so!!!

P.s I got inspiration for the first two paragraphs from @ holybonez on c.ai from her Prof tom riddle bot so giving credit where credit is due, I did reword it and the rest of the story is my own, just those two starting paragraphs that gave inspiration to me to write this! <3

all characters are 18+ !!!

In the quiet and secluded classroom of Professor Tom Riddle, you find yourself studying without permission, taking a risk for the sake of uninterrupted focus.

Not long ago, you noticed the dark mark on your arm, though you had no recollection of how it got there. The mark’s presence has been a constant source of unease and curiosity. As you gently roll up your sleeve to examine it more closely, tracing the intricate design with your fingers, the door creaks open. Jumping slightly, you hastily roll down the sleeve of your robes. Tom Riddle unexpectedly enters the room, his eyes immediately locking onto you, a questioning gaze on his face as he takes notice of your panicked state.

"Nadia Potter. Why are you in my classroom?" He walked over and rested against his desk with a purposeful stride. "You know it's against school rules for students to be in an empty classroom without a teacher present," he stated calmly, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "I'm aware... It won't happen again," you whispered, preparing yourself for whatever consequences might come. His eyes moved over your appearance, examining everything from your shoes to your hair, as if carefully analyzing every detail. After a long silence that reverberated in the room, he spoke once more.

“Roll up your sleeves” his voice strong and resolute. A surge of panic washed over you as you locked eyes with him. "W-why are you asking me to do that?" you stuttered, unable to hide your anxiety. A smirk formed on his lips as he moved away from the desk and closed in on you. Standing just a few inches away, he lowered his voice. "Did I not make myself clear?"

You stood motionless, your mind racing. It seemed impossible to escape with the door so far away and his presence so close. Before you could react, Professor Riddle firmly took hold of your wrist and slowly rolled up your sleeve. His smirk remained as he spoke again. "Now the other sleeve."

Your mind was filled with fear and confusion, and tears started to form in your eyes. "No, you can't do that! You have no right!" you objected, but he disregarded your tears and swiftly rolled up the other sleeve to reveal your forearm. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of the mark etched on your skin. "And why can't I?" he asked, firmly holding your chin and pulling you closer to him.

"Professors are not allowed to touch students," you replied, with a wavering defiance in your voice. His grip tightened as he locked eyes with you, as if searching for something in your expression. A tear slipped down your cheek as you tasted the salty reminder of your vulnerability on your lips.     

Filled with fear and confusion, your mind was overwhelmed, and tears welled up in your eyes. "No, you don't have the right to do that!" you protested, but he ignored your tears and quickly rolled up the other sleeve, revealing your forearm. Upon seeing the mark etched on your skin, his eyes widened slightly. "And why can't I?" he inquired, firmly grasping your chin and drawing you closer to him.

"Professors are prohibited from touching students," you asserted. His grip intensified as he locked eyes with you, almost as if he was searching for something in your expression. A tear trickled down your cheek, a salty taste entering your mouth.

He noticed the tear gliding down your cheek and quickly wiped it away with his thumb before looking into your eyes once more. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his cool tone from before being replaced by a softer one.

You were surprised by his sudden kindness as you said, "How do I get rid of it... the mark? You're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; you must know..."

Your voice shook with desperation as Professor Riddle's expression softened even more. He gently released his grip on your chin, understanding the depth of your fear.

"The Dark Mark is permanent once it's given. I assume you didn't receive it willingly...?" he asked with empathy.

“I found it when I woke up this morning, I can’t live with this”. Tears were flowing down my face as I spoke.

Professor Riddle understood your anguish. He softened his grip on your wrist and ran his fingers along the mark. "Has it been causing you pain?" he asked gently.

"It's been constant... Spells haven't helped, and I can't risk going to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, I could get expelled, they’d never give me a chance to explain if they caught a glimpse of it," you admitted, anxiety palpable in your voice. He continued to hold your arm, his touch comforting, as his fingers carefully traced the mark.

Releasing your wrist gently, he took hold of your chin, encouraging you to look at him.

"If I had to make a guess, the Dark Lord is the one who put it on you," he asserted with determination, his tone firm yet gentle.

"How? I've been at Hogwarts all this time, even during breaks. I thought I was safe here," you said, tears streaming down your face as you were engulfed by confusion.

Professor Riddle's expression softened even more as he pulled you closer, with his hand still grasping your chin.

"The Dark Lord's ways are unknown. If he wanted to mark you, he would find a way. Rest assured, as long as you're at Hogwarts, you are out of his reach..."

"If others find out... I could be expelled! Sirius won't take me back, my friends will abandon me, my brother will never speak to me again! There has to be a way to remove it," you begged, fear taking hold of you.

He held you tightly, feeling an unexpected tightening in his chest. Setting aside distracting thoughts, he concentrated on the current situation. "I will make sure no one discovers this. I’ll find a solution... I promise you," he reassured, sensing your anxiety diminish.

Your breaths became steady at his words, his reassuring presence bringing comfort. Pulling you closer, he continued to reassure you, his arm snaking around your waist, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin.

"Are you feeling better?" he inquired gently, his concern evident in the tone of his voice. You gave a slight nod, feeling the tears subsiding as relief swept over you. "And the pain... none of the spells or potions that should work haven’t," you confessed, seeking his advice.

Professor Riddle carefully examined the mark before returning his gaze to yours.

"This mark is different from any I've encountered before. I will research potential treatments for the pain. It might take time, but I am determined to find a solution," he reassured you.

"Thank you, Professor. Your dedication means a lot," you responded softly, a hesitant smile appearing on your face.

"You seem tired. I can tell you're distressed, no doubt since finding the mark this morning," he said gently. You tiredly nodded, realizing how much the day had taken out of you. "I think I should go back to my dorm," you said, feeling comforted by his presence.

Professor Riddle agreed, moving away from you and heading towards his desk. "Get some rest. I will start researching the mark tonight," he promised, looking at you with newfound warmth.

Appreciative of his unexpected kindness and determination to help, you turned to leave, feeling reassured by his presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Throughout the night, Tom worked tirelessly to find a way to remove the dark mark, but unfortunately, he wasn't able to make any progress. Despite feeling exhausted from the sleepless night, he remained determined to find a solution. The next morning, Tom arrived at the classroom early, looking noticeably pale, but he didn't acknowledge any concerns about his appearance. Seated at his desk, he carefully reviewed the notes from his research, hoping for a breakthrough. When the bell announced the start of the day, he glanced up expectantly, anticipating your entrance.

Quietly, you entered the room, making sure nobody spotted you before softly shutting the door. Signs of fatigue were evident on your face, a reflection of a sleepless night. Tom observed as you settled in, offering a gentle greeting.

“Good morning.”

Noticing your weary appearance, he couldn't ignore the worry creeping over him. Pushing these emotions aside, he focused on the immediate moment.

“You didn’t manage to get any sleep last night, did you?”

"No," you confessed, your voice weighed down by exhaustion. "The pain gets worse every day. I can't sleep, and I've lost my appetite."

Your words filled Tom with worry, as he empathized with your difficult situation.

"Are you not eating at all...?" he asked softly, leaning in to closely inspect your tired face.

"No," you whispered almost inaudibly, eyes cast downward.

The pain in Tom's chest grew stronger. It hurt him to see you in this state, neglecting your basic needs. He reached out, gently touching the side of your face, his touch a blend of reassurance and worry.

"You need to have something to eat...," he said.

"I can't," you replied, your distress evident. "Whenever I try, I feel nauseous."

Tom felt his heart constrict even more. Your reluctance to eat was seriously affecting your health. His eyes locked on you with a blend of concern and resolve.

"Tell me, when was the last time you had a meal?" he asked gently.

"It's been two days," you confessed softly, a realization dawning on your face.

Tom's heart dropped at this admission. Two days without proper nourishment—how were you coping? He tapped underneath your chin, encouraging you to look into his eyes.

"You really should eat something. You'll waste away if you don't..."

You expressed your fears: "I don't know what to do. There are consequences whether I eat or not," with a sense of resignation and tears forming in your eyes. Tom felt a pang of helplessness, unable to bear seeing you suffer.

Despite his usual detachment, he found himself caring deeply for you. “There has to be something I can do…” he muttered to himself, feeling more determined than ever to find a solution.

Gently cupping your chin, he urged you to look at him. “Please… just eat something…” "I know what will happen, and frankly, I’d rather starve," you insisted, maintaining defiant eye contact.

Tom felt a pang in his heart at your insistence. He couldn't understand why he was so concerned, but he couldn't bear to see you suffering.

"Could you please have at least a small snack," he asked in a softer tone.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing in your options "Alright," you conceded, a faint smile appearing on your face. "But if I feel unwell, I'll blame you."

Tom felt a wave of relief as you agreed. Any form of nourishment, no matter how small, was a step forward. He mustered a slight smile in response.

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame," he reassured you gently.

Digging into your bag, you found a green apple that Draco had given you earlier. After looking at it for a few moments, you take a bite, letting out a soft sigh, feeling relieved to have taken the first step.

Tom was taken aback by your compliance but visibly eased. He kept a close watch on you, alternating his gaze between you and the apple, ready for any sudden discomfort.

You managed a few bites, a glimmer of hope emerging as you felt relief wash over you. However, suddenly, a wave of nausea engulfed you, shattering your temporary relief.

The apple slipped from your hand, falling to the floor as you quickly made your way to the bin in the corner of the room. Tom's eyes widened in concern as he stood up, closing the distance between you.

Placing a comforting hand on your back, he gently rubbed up and down, hoping to provide you with some comfort, his heart ached as the sounds of your retching filled his ears. You felt embarrassed as you vomited, thankful that your head was hidden by the trash can. Tears mixed with distress as you struggled, feeling vulnerable in front of your professor.

Tom's heart pained with each sound you made, but he didn't turn away. He kept his hand steady on your back, offering a soothing, regular pat as he stood by you until you were completely done.

After you regained some composure, he gently led you away from the bin and helped you sit in a chair nearby. Kneeling in front of you, he kept comforting you by rubbing your back tenderly, his touch soft against your trembling body. You were breathing heavily, your hands shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks—it had only been two days, yet it already felt like an eternity.

He felt his chest constrict as he saw you in so much distress. Tom took a seat next to you on the floor, keeping his hand on your back as he gently rubbed it, trying to offer comfort without causing more distress. At that moment, all he desired was to hold you tightly and protect you from the pain until it vanished.

"If it's not gone in a week... then I can't guarantee that I’ll still be here," you murmured, your voice filled with determination.

Tom's heart raced, his hand pausing on your back. Gazing at you, his tone was resolute, allowing no room for argument. "Don't even entertain that idea, do you understand?"

"This is hell... there are no records of the dark mark causing this effect on people.. so, how are we to cure it?" you whispered, your distress apparent in your voice.

Tom felt an even deeper pang of sadness at your words. The idea of the dark mark affecting you so severely was unbearable. His mind raced with countless possibilities; there had to be a solution. Meeting your eyes, he spoke in a determined, low voice.

"We will find a way... I will find a solution for you. I refuse to give up, and I won't let you give up either. You will overcome this, you must overcome this..." he whispered the last few words to himself, in attempts to bring him comfort.

You were adamant, insisting, "One week is all I can give.. I can't keep going for much longer."

Tom's breath caught at the thought of you losing hope in a week. He held your hands tightly, his eyes filled with determination.

"No, you can't put a time on this. I promised I will find a solution for you. You can't give up," he said firmly.

"By then, I might not even be alive... You saw how it went just now. I can only keep down water... My body won't make it like this," you whispered, tears forming once again.

Your grim prediction weighed heavily on him.

"You will not be dead in a week, don’t think like that, you will come out on the better side of this.. so promise me you won’t give up so soon."

"Fine, I promise" you finally conceded, your voice almost inaudible.

Tom let out a quiet sigh of relief. While still holding your hands, he loosened his grasp slightly and began to gently stroke the backs of your hands with his thumbs. Despite intense emotions welling up inside him, he fought to keep his composure.

You sat at the Slytherin table amidst your friends, enveloped in a silence that echoed louder than any conversation. Chin resting on your hand, you stared blankly ahead, your eyes fixed on the wall, unseeing. Not a single bite of food had touched your lips since you arrived, lost in thoughts that seemed to drown out the lively chatter around you.

Sitting at the head of the staff table, Tom focused all his attention on you. He watched as you remained motionless among friends, a look of worry forming in his chest. It was evident that you had no desire to eat, your empty stare fixed on the wall as if attempting to flee from your thoughts. Nobody at the table appeared to register your distress, preoccupied with their concerns and oblivious to the inner turmoil you were experiencing.

Meanwhile your eyes fill with tears as you come to grips with the harsh reality of your situation: your life is hanging by a thread, and time is slipping away. While those around you laugh and have fun, you grapple with the grim uncertainty of how much time remains. Suddenly, you rise from your seat, disregarding your friends’ calls, and storm out of the Great Hall, seeking solace in the tranquillity of the girl's bathroom.

Tom’s eyes widen as he watches you leave in haste, concern etched deeply on his face. He sees the worry wash over him like a wave, wondering what could have driven you to leave so abruptly. Amidst the oblivious conversations at the table, he can’t ignore the urgency to check on you. Ignoring the limitations of his position as a professor, his heart compels him to go after you.

Rushing down the hallway, you rub at your eyes attempting to unsuccessfully stop the flood of tears. Arriving at the bathroom, you grip the sink tightly, knuckles turning white from the force as sobs rack your body. It feels like an endless torment, each tear a reminder to the pain that has consumed you for days.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Tom’s heart shatters with every sob that echoes through the silence. He longs to barge in, to hold you close and reassure you that everything will somehow be alright. But he remains rooted in place, torn between his duty as a professor and his overwhelming desire to comfort a distraught student.

Staring into the mirror, tears streaming down your face, you take in your grim appearance staring at back at you. Your hand finds its way to your wand, a chilling thought forming in the depths of despair. Whispering to yourself, “He doesn’t have to know” you contemplate actions that could bring an escape from your pain.

Tom is motionless when he hears your quiet words, feeling each syllable like a jolt of fear. Every instinct tells him to act, to stop any hasty decisions. With his heart pounding, he can't just stand and watch, waiting for a disaster to happen.

Tom pushes the bathroom door open and strides in with determination. Your tear-filled, red and swollen eyes meet his, showing a mix of despair and relief as he arrives.

He never looks away from your eyes as he talks, his tone remaining steady even though he's filled with emotions.

“Put the wand down…”

Your head shakes involuntarily as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. "I can't do this anymore…"

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at your statement. His mind races, trying to comprehend the seriousness of what you have just expressed, although he dreads that he already understands. Slowly, cautiously, he takes another step closer, his voice steady yet tinged with desperation.

"Put the wand down, please… You aren’t going to do that…"

In response, you point your wand at him, your hand trembling with the weight of your emotions. "You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like… to live like this," your voice quivers with every word.

Tom’s breath hitches as he stares down the wand pointed at him. His heart pounds, his own voice betraying the fear and concern that gnaw at him.

"It's tough, but you're stronger than this. You don't have to give up.. Please, lower the wand…"

"I don't have much time left. I can't seek help from Dumbledore, Pomfrey, or even my own brother to extend my life! This is the end… There is no solution, not in books, not even in restricted sources! Nothing!" Despair fills your voice, each word reflecting the depth of your hopelessness.

Tom fights the urge to grab the wand from your hand. Instead, he begs, his voice filled with desperation and anguish.

"I've been searching tirelessly to find anything that might be able to cure you… I just need more time…"

"You've been saying that all along… and yet, here we are," you softly say, the weight of defeat evident in your voice. It's a painful recognition of the shared battle against an unavoidable fate.

Tom appears directly in front of you, his eyes fixed on yours, his words filled with emotion.

"… Just a bit longer, please…"

"I have no time! I can't eat or sleep, I can barely function without falling down!" Tear stains mark your cheeks as you speak with emotion choking your words.

Tom’s heart feels like it's on the verge of breaking, seeing you in such pain. His own eyes well up with tears reflecting your anguish as he speaks in a trembling voice.

“Please, just a few more days. I'm working so hard to find something… Please, just hold on…”

After you lower the wand from pointing at him, a brief sense of relief crosses Tom’s face. However, it quickly changes to shock as you direct it towards your own neck. Without hesitation, he moves quickly, grabbing the wand from your grasp and pulling you close to him.

“NO!” he shouts.

You let out a cry as he wraps you in his arms, his hold strong and resolute. In that moment, you feel utterly out of control, understanding that your last attempt to escape has been foiled.

"Never do that again…"

Tom clings tightly to your arm, one hand supporting the back of your head, refusing to release you. He senses your body shaking against his, torn between distress and solace.

“no..” you object, sobbing as your hands weakly strike against his chest, futile in your resistance against his strength. "You can't put me through this!"

“I said never again…”

His tone is resolute, authoritative, as he draws you into a tighter embrace, keeping you steady.

As you struggle against him, Tom’s arms tighten around you, preventing you from falling. Your face presses against his chest, you whisper your plea, your voice barely audible.

"Stop trying to keep me alive…"

“No” his voice firm yet gentle “I will never give up on you.. never..”

Tom’s voice is resolute, refusing to entertain the notion of giving up. He holds you close, his arms a shield against your despair, determined to fight for you even when you can’t find the strength to fight for yourself.

The past few days had been an agonizing blur for the young professor. He found himself pacing in his office, flipping through tomes in a desperate search for any solution to your predicament.

He hadn't slept for two days, as the stress of knowing someone was suffering and his own inability to help ate away at his conscience. In the still darkness of his room, Tom lay awake, tormented by thoughts of you. His worry for your well-being prevented any chance of rest, despite the need to prepare for morning classes.

Tom struggled with feelings of guilt as he lay wide awake, realizing that he couldn't inquire about your well-being without crossing professional boundaries. The act of confiscating your wand in the restroom lingered in his mind; although necessary to prevent harm, it weighed heavily on his heart.

As the sun started to rise, Tom remained in bed, worn out but unable to find comfort in sleep. Dark circles accentuated his eyes, evidence of his troubled night. Thoughts of your upcoming lessons weighed on his mind; he understood that you approached each day with suffering and diminishing strength.

During the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you found it challenging to concentrate as you sat at the back. This subject used to be your favourite, but now even the simplest tasks seem difficult to grasp. Tom, attempting to maintain his composure, moved around the students and stole glances at your distant figure.

Your usual enthusiasm had vanished, replaced by a fog of pain and exhaustion. Every moment felt like a battle against overwhelming despair, leaving concentration an impossible goal.

As the lesson came to an end, Tom watched as the students left. He stayed at his desk, pretending to organize papers, but truly waiting for an opportunity to check on you.

You gathered your things slowly as the room emptied around you, with Tom watching and feeling his heart breaking with every moment he spent witnessing your pain.

After the last student left and the door clicked shut, Tom rapidly closed the distance between us. He spoke with a soft yet urgent voice that cut through the lingering silence.

“I need to talk to you…”

"Unless it's a solution to my problem… then I don't want to hear it," you responded sharply, with frustration evident in your voice. Tom flinched, hurt evident in his eyes, but he pressed on with determination.

“I’ve been searching for a solution all this time… I haven’t found anything useful yet, but I promise I won’t give up… I’m not giving up on you…”

"Well I have," you replied bitterly, your determination unwavering. "I'm finished, Professor. Because there is no solution! There is no escape from this…"

Tom's hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch silently pleading. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, determined to convey his resolve.

"You can't just surrender… There must be a solution… I'll find a way to assist you, you just have to trust me…"

"You have no idea… of the torture you're putting me through," you responded, your voice filled with anguish. Tom's grip on your shoulder tightened, his pain evident as he struggled to reply.

“Just give up already” you sneer at him

Leaving without saying another word, you threw your bag over your shoulder and angrily left the classroom. Tom was torn, unsure whether to follow after you or respect the boundaries between you. With fists clenched, he chose to stay put, feeling overwhelmed by his inability to help you.

Alone in the quiet classroom, Tom felt his heart sink. He had hoped that his words would bring some comfort, but instead, they seemed to deepen the despair. Standing there, he grappled with the realization that his efforts might have pushed you further into darkness.

you made your way toward the girl’s bathroom; the burden of your illness was too much to handle in the classroom. you didn't attend lessons, instead dropping your bag and collapsing onto your knees in a stall, clutching your skirt as dry heaves wracked your body, squeezing your stomach when there was nothing left to expel.

When Tom managed to leave the classroom and get to the girls' bathroom, his heart was heavy with a premonition of what you might be going through. He couldn’t bear the thought of you facing this alone.

When he entered the bathroom, the sight of you kneeling before the toilet, retching with nothing to show for it, shattered his heart.

Tom couldn't bear to stay still any longer, so he crouched down next to you, perching on his knees. His soft hand settled on your back, making slow circles to provide reassurance.

"Just let it all out…"

You wept into the toilet, the sound carrying your anguish. Amid such a terrible moment, his comforting touch was a small source of comfort.

"shh… just breath, darling…"

Despite feeling a glimmer of calm thanks to his presence, another wave of sickness overcame you. As you opened your eyes, they met with a horrifying sight – blood pooling in the toilet, more dribbling from your mouth.

My body collapsed backward, leaning against the stall wall, panic seizing me as blood continued to flow from my lips.

Tom immediately rushed to your side, his arms supporting your weight against the wall. His heart raced with fear at the sight of your deteriorating state, feeling utterly powerless.

“Just try to stay calm, alright? Just breathe…”

Despite your efforts to regulate your breathing, fear still gripped your entire body. Tom held you tightly against him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist trying to steady your trembling form.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart… Just try and breathe, okay? Just keep breathing…”

Lying there against him, another violent cough wracked your body, more blood splattering out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I changed my mind… I don’t want to die…” you whisper, voice hoarse.

He heard the pain in your strained voice, and his heart ached for you. The blood’s effect on your throat was evident, adding to his anguish.

“You’re not going to die… you’re going to be okay, love…”

“It’s because I’m a Potter, isn’t it?” you forced a laugh, which only resulted in a fit of bloody coughs.

His heart clenched with guilt at your words. He held you tighter, yearning to ease your pain.

“Don’t speak, sweetheart. Just rest your voice for a moment, okay?”

He continued to hold you close, whispering softly, his touch and voice offering the only comfort in this harrowing moment.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered up to his, and he saw the struggle within you as you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

In that bathroom stall, amidst pain and fear, you found a brief respite in his embrace. Tom’s presence was a lifeline, a steady force of comfort and support in the midst of your darkest hour.

Taking repetitive deep breaths, you choked intermittently, focused on the task he had set for you. Each breath felt like a battle against the curse ravaging your body, each cough a painful reminder of the ordeal.

His heart ached as he listened to the deep breaths interspersed with coughs. Each sound echoed the agony you endured, intensifying his guilt.

He gently pressed his palm against your forehead, gauging your feverish warmth. The realization that you were still too hot under his touch pained him deeply.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart… just keep breathing like that…”

Tom continued his soothing touch, tracing gentle circles on your back. His other hand remained on your forehead, sensing the lingering heat despite the temporary calmness.

His heart hurt knowing this was only the beginning of your suffering. He yearned to trade places with you, to shoulder this anguish instead.

You released your grip on your skirt, letting your hand rest on your stomach. Your gaze remained fixed, concentrating on maintaining steady breaths.

Feeling you finally relax against him, Tom continued to rub your back soothingly, relieved to see you easing your grip and finding a bit of reprieve.

“Just rest your focus on keeping that steady breathing, love… You’re doing so well…”

His touch and voice brought a serene peace, helping you focus on the rhythmic breathing that brought a fleeting sense of tranquillity amidst the turmoil.

Tom found solace in your relaxed state against him. Feeling your body ease brought him a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

You felt his steady heartbeat against you, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone. His closeness offered security you hadn’t felt in a long time, a shared moment of vulnerability.

He observed as you raised your hand to wipe away the remaining blood staining your lips, a pang hitting his heart. Gently grasping your wrist, he lifts your hand away from your face, his touch soft yet firm.

“Careful… don’t keep touching your lip like that,…. I’ll take care of it in a minute…”

“It feels disgusting.. want it gone…”

Your voice was hoarse, a painful reminder of the toll the curse had taken on your throat.

Understanding your disgust and discomfort, Tom’s heart ached. He spoke softly, fingers gently guiding your chin to keep your face turned towards him.

“I know it does…. Just give me a moment, okay? I’ll take care of it, sweetheart…” You nodded slightly, trusting him to help, a flicker of relief knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

Releasing your chin, Tom retrieved his wand from his pocket. With a soft, reassuring tone, he asked you to close your eyes.

“Close your eyes for me, just for a moment…”

Hesitating briefly, you closed your eyes slowly, finding a rare moment of peace after days of turmoil.

Tom directed his wand towards your face, whispering the cleaning spell. “Tergeo…”

Watching the blood disappear, he felt a wave of relief. The sight of your clean lips eased his heart, a small reprieve from the pain etched on your face.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart…”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze instantly, a sense of relief washing over him. Feeling a bit better, you were grateful not to be overwhelmed by panic.

He smiled softly, holding your face gently, his eyes fixed on yours, his voice low and soothing.

“There you are… I’m glad you seem a bit calmer now…”

You said nothing, overwhelmed with thoughts of the suffering ahead. How long would this ordeal last? “All i want is to sleep..” You muttered, too exhausted to cry.

Your exhaustion and pain were palpable in your tired voice, and it made his heart clench. He desperately hoped that you would find some relief in sleep, even if only for a short while.

"I know, love… I wish you could rest now…"

"use the enchanted sleep charm…" you whispered, softly

Your eyes pleaded with him as they met his, urging him to allow you the comfort of sleep.

Seeing your pleading gaze tugged at his heart, making him conflicted about using the sleep charm on you in such a vulnerable state. Nevertheless, he recognized that it might provide the relief you so desperately needed.

"Are you certain that's what you want?"

With concern lacing his soft voice, he hesitates as he contemplates your plea.

"I'm exhausted… Please, I need it," you say, the weariness and desperation evident in your tone.

The weight of your request burdens him, stirring a sense of guilt at the idea of using the spell on you. However, he senses your fatigue and knows he needs to do whatever he can to assist.

"Fine… I'll do it, but just for a short while, okay?" he agrees softly, his nod tinged with a mix of compassion and apprehension. In response, you nod, gratitude evident in your eyes as you understand his decision.

With appreciation for your understanding and gratitude for your trust, he offers a gentle smile despite his own uncertainties.

Gently resting his palm on your jaw, he keeps his touch tender, ensuring your eyes stay connected with his.

“Keep your eyes open for just a moment for me, okay?"

"Mhm…" You softly murmur, hoping the spell will grant you the peace you long for, even if only temporarily.

Seeing your agreement, he smiles softly, as he prepares to cast the spell.

After he utters the spell, a sense of relief washes over you. Your eyelids close gently, your breath becomes steady, and your body becomes limp in his arms.

Letting out a deep exhale, he feels a burden lift from his chest as he observes you finally finding tranquillity in sleep.

He maintains his closeness, gently holding your relaxed body. From your forehead to your hair, his fingertips softly glide, providing comfort as he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"There you go… You're safe."

Since the sleep charm took hold of your body, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Vomiting blood had become apart of your daily routine, as regular as the sunrise. It had been two weeks since the cursed mark first showed up, yet any hint of a remedy remained out of reach.

During Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you remained silent, feeling your hope fade with each passing moment. Tom's attentive gaze never wandered far from you as he conducted his lecture. His worry was obvious, seen in the quick glances he cast your way, observing every hint of discomfort or pain that flitted across your face.

While you struggled to concentrate on Tom's teachings, you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixated on you. Just when you started to feel some peace, the familiar metallic taste flooded your mouth, causing a wave of silent panic. The presence of other students in the room only amplified your anxiety, as you knew what was about to unfold.

Tom continued with his lesson, fully engrossed, but he remained acutely aware of any small changes in your behaviour. His heart sank as he saw the panic taking over you, indicating the beginning of another round of suffering. Without a second thought, he carefully made his way over to you, his steps purposeful yet inconspicuous, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention.

Seconds passed, and before you could react, pain seized you, doubling over in your seat as blood spilled from your lips. Tom reached you swiftly, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm. Kneeling beside you, he glanced briefly at the other students before focusing entirely on your distress.

"This is so humiliating," you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up as you struggled to contain the situation. Tom's voice, low and steady, cut through the chaos, soothing me with reassurance.

"Try to block them out for now. Concentrate on your breathing."

"Please, get me out of here," you pleaded, your tear-filled eyes locked onto his.

Tom's response was immediate and decisive. "Come on. I'll take you to the infirmary."

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, finding a glimmer of hope in his steady guidance. Holding tightly onto his hand, we navigated the corridors, his voice a gentle murmur of encouragement as we neared the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Just a little further, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his touch a comforting reassurance against the turmoil raging inside you.

Upon reaching the infirmary, relief washed over us as the door swung open, ushering us into a haven of calm amidst the turmoil of the day. The room was quiet, save for a few occupied beds, offering a sense of privacy and respite. Tom led you to an unoccupied bed, his demeanour calm yet filled with concern as he helped you settle.

"Here we are, away from prying eyes," he said gently, his words a balm to your frazzled nerves.

"I just want it to be over," you whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

Tom's heart ached at your anguish, his touch tender as he comforted you. "I know, sweetheart. I wish there was more I could do to ease your pain."

Sensing a presence nearby, you whispered anxiously, "What if she sees the mark?"

Tom's expression turned serious, his voice low as he assured you, "It'll be alright. Stay calm. I'll make sure she doesn't notice."

Nodding in trust, you felt a wave of relief knowing Tom was there to shield you. Madam Pomfrey approached, her eyes scrutinizing our scene with a mix of concern and authority.

Tom met Madam Pomfrey's gaze steadily, his expression calm despite the urgency he felt. He knew he had to tread carefully to protect you from any unnecessary scrutiny.

"Madam Pomfrey, she's feeling unwell," he began, his voice measured and composed. "I was just bringing her here to rest for a bit."

Madam Pomfrey's gaze shifted to you, her brow furrowing as she took in your pale complexion and the traces of blood on your face. Her concern deepened, but Tom maintained his reassuring demeanour.

"She had a sudden bout of illness in class," Tom continued, choosing his words carefully. "I thought it best to bring her here immediately."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed the situation. She approached you with a gentle but firm manner, preparing to examine you more closely.

"Let me take a look at you, dear," she said kindly, reaching for her wand. "We'll see what we can do to help."

You glanced nervously at Tom, silently pleading for his guidance in this moment of uncertainty. He nodded subtly, his eyes conveying reassurance as he squeezed your hand gently.

"It's okay," he whispered softly. "She's here to help."

You nodded hesitantly, allowing Madam Pomfrey to proceed with her examination. Tom stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the situation. As Madam Pomfrey began her assessment, Tom kept a watchful eye on you, silently praying for a solution to end your suffering.

Madam Pomfrey's examination was thorough yet gentle, her experienced hands and wand moving with practiced precision as she checked your vitals and assessed your condition. With each passing moment, Tom's concern grew palpable, his eyes never leaving your face, silently urging you to stay strong through this ordeal.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, Madam Pomfrey finally straightened up, her expression thoughtful yet composed. She glanced between you and Tom before speaking in a calm tone that belied the seriousness of the situation.

"I can see you're going through a lot, dear," she began, her voice laced with empathy. "We'll need to take some measures to manage your symptoms and monitor your condition closely."

Tom nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering as he silently conveyed his support for whatever course of action Madam Pomfrey deemed necessary. He knew this was beyond his expertise, trusting in her ability to provide the best care possible.

Madam Pomfrey then turned to Tom, her expression softening slightly as she addressed him directly.

"Mr. Riddle, I'll need your assistance in ensuring her comfort and maintaining her privacy," she said with a hint of urgency. "We must keep a close watch on her condition and any developments."

Tom nodded again, his commitment to protecting your well-being unwavering. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey," he responded calmly. "I'll do whatever is needed to help."

With that, Madam Pomfrey began to lead the way, guiding both of you to a nearby bed where you could rest and receive the care you needed. Tom remained by your side, his hand still clasped gently in yours, offering silent reassurance and support as you navigate this challenging moment together.

As you settled onto the bed under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, Tom took a seat beside you, his presence a steadfast comfort amidst the uncertainty. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to stand by your side every step of the way, supporting you with unwavering loyalty and compassion.

"I'm scared," you quietly confided in him, making sure not to be overheard by the matron, the fear in your voice unmistakable.

Tom felt his heart tighten at your admission. Moving closer, he urgently but gently reassured you, his voice a comforting presence amid the anxiety surrounding us.

"I understand, love. It's natural to be afraid. But you're not alone. Madam Pomfrey is doing everything in her power to help us figure this out. Try to stay calm, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured softly, his hand gently squeezing yours in a gesture of silent support..

Your response brought a flicker of relief to Tom, and he was thankful that his touch could provide comfort in your shared unease. He held onto your hand firmly, keeping his gaze steady as Madam Pomfrey examined with a concerned and puzzled expression.

"Your body is being affected by some unknown form of magic, but I can't determine the exact cause," she said with furrowed brows.

Madam Pomfrey's words filled Tom with a surge of anxiety, as the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on him. He recognized that despite her expertise, there were limitations to what she could uncover. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the concern that mirrored your own. "We'll figure this out," he murmured reassuringly, though his voice held a note of unease. "We just need to be patient and trust that Madam Pomfrey will find a way."

You weakly nodded, attempting to compose yourself despite the fear eating away at you inside. Tom's presence next to you was a source of stability, grounding you in the midst of the medical jargon.

Madam Pomfrey continued to examine the charts and magical symbols she had summoned, her forehead creasing further with each passing moment. "The healing charms are producing an unusual reaction," she murmured more to herself than to us. "There's a resistance that I can't quite explain."

Tom moved in closer, speaking in a hushed tone, "What does that mean?" Her gaze flickered between us, her expression troubled. "It means," she began carefully, "that whatever is affecting you is unlike anything I've encountered before. It's not just magical, it's… complex."

Her words made your heart sink, as a surge of despair felt like it might consume you. Tom silently expressed his support by tightening his grip on your hand. "What are our options?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey let out a soft sigh, her sympathetic gaze fixed on you. "At the moment, we'll observe and wait. I'll speak with some colleagues to gather any insights or experiences with similar cases."

and wait we did. patiently.

Weeks passed with a relentless rhythm of uncertainty and hope in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey's consultations with other healers yielded little clarity on the mysterious ailment that gripped you. Despite her best efforts and the collective wisdom of experts, your condition continued to confound them all.

Tom remained a constant presence by your side, his support unwavering even as fatigue etched lines of concern on his face. Each day, he arrived early, often before you woke, and stayed late into the night, offering comfort through the long hours of tests, treatments, and waiting.

The infirmary became a second home, its white walls and sterile smell a stark contrast to the vibrant life you once knew outside. You missed the bustle of the Great Hall, the laughter of students, the company of your friends and your brother and the routine of classes. But most of all, you missed the freedom of being healthy and carefree.

Yet, despite his efforts, there were moments of despair that even his unwilling support couldn't dispel. On the darkest nights, when pain kept sleep at bay and fear gripped your heart like a vice, you would lie awake, listening to the distant sounds of the castle and wondering if life beyond these walls would ever be yours again.

One night, the infirmary window was illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, and you were having difficulty breathing. The pain had grown stronger, an unyielding ache that felt like it was penetrating every part of you. Beside you, Tom shifted in his chair, his eyes showing concern as he reached out to hold your hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" His voice was tender, but you could sense the underlying worry.

You managed a weak nod, though the effort left you breathless. "Just… hurts," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Tom pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, his touch soothing against your clammy skin. "I'm here," he murmured softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "We'll get through this, I promise."

The words offered a flicker of comfort, but you couldn't shake the fear that this pain marked a worsening of your condition. Madam Pomfrey had done everything within her power, yet answers remained elusive, leaving you to confront the harsh reality that your time might be running out.

Days blurred into nights, each filled with a cycle of hope and despair. Tom continued to balance his responsibilities as a professor with his unwavering commitment to your care. His dedication was a testament to the depth of his feelings, a silent declaration that spoke volumes even amid the chaos of your circumstances.

One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the infirmary windows, Madam Pomfrey entered with a somber expression. Her footsteps echoed softly on the tiled floor, drawing both your attention.

"I've consulted with healers from across Europe," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. "There's one last possibility we haven't explored."

Tom leaned forward, his expression hopeful yet cautious. "What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "There's a rare potion, ancient and highly complex," she explained slowly. "It's not without risks, but given the circumstances…"

Your heart raced at the glimmer of hope her words ignited. Tom squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked on Madam Pomfrey. "What do we need to do?"

Her gaze softened, recognizing the fragile thread of optimism that tethered you to her expertise. "I'll need to prepare the ingredients," she said quietly. "It will take time, and there are no guarantees."

Tom nodded solemnly, his resolve unwavering. "Do whatever you need to do," he said firmly. "We trust you."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, a hint of gratitude in her tired eyes. "I'll begin immediately," she assured you both before turning to gather the necessary components.

Working diligently to mix potions and prepare spells, Tom stood by my side, offering quiet comfort and companionship. We both understood the high stakes and uncertain outcome, but in that moment, hope burned bright in the face of adversity.

Hours stretched into agonizing anticipation, the air thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey meticulously completed her preparations. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she turned to both of you, a vial in hand.

"This is it," she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "It needs to be administered carefully. Are you ready?"

You glanced at Tom, seeing the mirrored hope and fear reflected in his eyes. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and desperate hope.

Madam Pomfrey approached with measured steps, her demeanor focused yet gentle. "This potion will be administered in small doses," she explained as she prepared a syringe with meticulous care. "It's designed to counteract the effects of the unknown magic, but its potency requires caution."

Tom took a steadying breath, his hand tightening around yours as Madam Pomfrey injected the first dose. A surge of warmth spread through your veins, followed by a wave of dizziness that made you clutch Tom's hand tighter.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey murmured, a glimmer of relief in her voice. "Just a little more."

The minutes ticked by, each dose bringing a gradual easing of the pain that had plagued you for so long. Tom's presence beside you was a constant anchor, his quiet strength bolstering your resolve as you navigated this final, precarious hope.

At last, when the final dose was administered, Madam Pomfrey stepped back, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Now we wait," she said softly.

Tom leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're going to be alright," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to believe in the possibility of a future beyond the confines of the infirmary walls. Beside you, Tom remained vigilant, his hand never leaving yours as you waited for the potion to take effect.

Hours passed in tense silence, the weight of your collective hope and fear hanging heavy in the air. Then, as dawn painted the sky outside the window, you felt a shift. The pain ebbed further, replaced by a sense of calm that settled deep within your weary bones.

"It's working," Madam Pomfrey breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Tom's grip on your hand tightened, his relief palpable. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you whispered a silent prayer of gratitude, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

With each passing hour, the effects of the potion became more pronounced, restoring strength and vitality that had seemed lost forever. You and Tom shared moments of cautious optimism, daring to dream of a future where laughter and light once again filled your days.

Days turned into weeks as you continued to recover under Madam Pomfrey's vigilant care. The infirmary walls no longer felt like a prison but a sanctuary where healing and hope flourished.

Tom was there every step of the way, celebrating small victories and offering unwavering support during setbacks. His love and devotion became the bedrock upon which you rebuilt your strength, his presence a constant reminder that life's greatest challenges could be faced with courage and resilience.

As you finally prepared to leave the infirmary, a mixture of emotions swirled within you. Gratitude for those who had stood by your side, determination to reclaim the life that had been put on hold, and a profound sense of love for the man who had never wavered in his belief that you could overcome even the darkest of trials.

Standing together at the threshold of a new beginning, Tom took your hand in his, his eyes shining with pride and joy. "We made it," he said softly, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, overwhelmed by emotions that rendered you speechless. Instead of attempting words, you gazed up into his deep, dark eyes, now filled with hope and relief, sparkling like never before. Memories flooded your mind—moments of unwavering loyalty, his steadfast support through every trial. As you looked into his eyes, the golden sunlight bathing you both, a surge of courage and gratitude welled up inside.

Resting gently on his chest with one hand and finding its place on the back of his neck with the other, your lips hovered close to his, almost brushing against his, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull until the remaining distance was closed. The rush of warmth and reassurance spread through you the moment your lips met his. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tenderly, silently acknowledging the shared relief and joy.

You savored the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms around you, knowing that together, you had faced the darkest of trials and emerged stronger.

Breaking the kiss gently, you rested your forehead against his, breathing in sync with his steady heartbeat. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible but filled with all the love and gratitude you felt.

Tom's eyes, still locked with yours, reflected a depth of emotion that matched your own. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

A tear of happiness escaped your eye as you spoke, tracing a path down your cheek as his words reached your ears.

As you looked ahead to the future, uncertainties still lingered, but you knew that as long as you were together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With Tom beside you, you felt invincible, ready to embrace the new beginnings that awaited outside the walls that had confined you for so long. The journey ahead would be filled with its own trials and joys, but with his love lighting the way, you were certain that your shared future would be nothing short of extraordinary.

And as the sun sets over Hogwarts, casting a warm glow over the grounds, you embrace the future with open hearts and a love that has proven itself unbreakable.

[yaksha-lover]

hi i hope you’re doing well :)

could you do a fic on cater or jade in the vampire au?

thank you <3

I went with Jade for this one! Thanks for the request, I’m sorry I took a long time with it <3

cw: slightly mean/manipulative jade, vampire things (blood drinking), minor wounds (cut), suggestive(ish)

“Oh dear, there’s no need for tears~” Jade says, half-patronizing as he strokes your hair. His condescension almost makes you pull away, but his other arm is locked tight around your back. You aren’t sure if the act is more comforting or distressing; maybe a mix of both.

It’s a bit humiliating that he treats you like a sulking child, but you’re greatful that he at least allows you to bury your face in his shoulder. It’s nice to know he can’t see your messy cheeks and puffy eyes, even if he can imagine it from your desolate state.

“Trouble in paradise, my dear?” he teases, after your heaves have turn to soft sniffles. It’s annoying that he acts as though he doesn’t already know the answer; it’s hardly the first time you’ve sought his comfort. Or rather, the first time he’s caught you in this kind of state. No, the sudden bursts of dread feel like they’ve been going on forever.

“Something like that,” you mumble, lifting your head enough from his shoulder to wipe away any stray tears. You turn to face away from him as you separate from his chest. Thankfully, no one else in the mansion ever comes in this wing. You can feel Jade’s curious gaze examining you from his place beside you on the couch; you suppose you owe him at least an explanation for your state. “I’ve just been thinking about my home. I…I want to go home.”

Jade’s arm stiffens around your back almost immeasurably, but you’ve finally been around him enough to spot the cracks in his veneer. His free hand comes to rest on your own and for a second you believe you might experience a moment of genuine connection with him: “I am truly sorry to hear you’re missing home, darling,” Jade says, voice free of mockery. “But,” he continues, fingers tilting your chin to face him, “You know Lilia would never allow such a thing.” His tone may be neutral and disinterested, but Jade’s eyes are sharp and cold, completely unfitting his sympathetic words.

“I know,” you say, unable to separate your annoyance from your tone. Jade doesn’t take too well to your newfound feeling; he really only seems to like the emotions that leave you crumbled in his arms.

“However, I do believe he could be persuaded. Perhaps Azul may even be inclined to help you out. ”

-

Azul continues his paperwork as he replies to your request: “How about a night on the town? If a taste of freedom is what you’re seeking, I could make that happen. Lilia does owe me for setting up the supply of blood that gets delivered to the mansion, after all.”

“Alright,” you reply. “What’s the catch?”

“It will take a certain price. As a magic-less human, you don’t have much to offer me,” Azul says, flashing you his best customer service smile. “Except, perhaps, the only thing you have that the others don’t.”

“How much?”

Azul’s smile widens: “Only a pint, no more than you would give at a human hospital. It’s perfectly safe, I promise you.”

Figures Azul would be the first one to get his hands on your blood. You’re not even sure what he wants to collect it for, but you don’t have many options left.

“Deal.”

-

“How did you know?” you ask Jade, sitting across from him in the restaurant booth.

“I know many things, dear. You’ll need to be more specific,” Jade says, sipping elegantly at his drink.

“That I wanted to come here. I don’t remember telling you about this place.” You look around at the mahogany tables; the restaurant is small so there’s only a couple of them. The quiet was one of the things you’d loved about this restaurant.

“Not me. You have told your little friends though. Ace was quite happy to tell me all about your favourite places at the right price.” Jade’s face remains neutral as he scans the room. “This place is quite cute. I can see why you find it endearing.”

“You extorted Ace into telling you about me?!”

“Extorted? No, we made quite the fair deal. Ask him about it later, if you wish. I only did so to make you happy, MC.”

It’s hard to argue with him on that; despite his questionable means, Jade often did have your best interests in mind. You felt frustrated at the rush of heat to your cheeks. Even though your mind knew better, it was hard to keep your heart from stopping the affectionate warmth when you thought about what Jade had done for you.

“Well. Thanks then, I guess.”

Jade smiles gently behind his glass. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

The waiter comes to take your orders, and you find for the rest of the night that being out with Jade really does take your mind off of things.

-

Jade corners you against the wall as soon as you enter the mansion together.

“Azul has gotten his payment already, but I don’t think I have. Don’t you think I deserve some equal compensation for what I’ve done for you?”

“I-I don’t have anything to give you. What do you want?” you ask, half-dreading, half-excited for his response.

Jade brushes a hand over your hair, until it lands at the base of your neck. He leans in close until you can feel his hot breath on your skin: “Oh, I think you have plenty to give me. One might even say you’re greedy, keeping all this intoxicating blood to yourself.”

“I can’t, I already gave some to Azul! If I give any more today I’ll pass out.” You say, although you know rationality is a lost cause if Jade has decided this is what he wants. Your own rationality is steadily slipping away, too, being replaced by the desire for him to give you something else to distract you.

“You know, Floyd has told me all about how tasty you are~ There’s only so much a vampire can take, my dear. You curl into my chest, holding me for comfort and spreading your sweet smell so close to me…” Jade scratches his fangs gently across your skin, not piercing the flesh but still sending a shiver down your back. Just as you close your eyes and brace yourself for the prick of pain, Jade has removed himself from you entirely.

When you open your eyes, Jade stands in front of you. He seems to stifle a sound of amusement: “Kidding, of course. You didn’t really think I would take blood from you, did you? I would never harm you, my dear. Well, not unless you wanted me to.” Jade says with his typical deceptively pleasant smile.

“I wouldn’t.” You reply flatly, brushing past him to the kitchen. You don’t know who you’re more irritated at: him, for acting like he wanted to take your blood, or you, for wanting him too.

“Ah, I am sorry, I see my jest may have frightened you more than I intended. Perhaps I can make it up to you.” Jade says, picking up a small bag you hadn’t noticed him place on the floor earlier. “I had to make a deal with him, but I got Azul to find a supplier for these fruits for you. I know they’re your favourites.”

It’s both endearing and terrifying to realize how well Jade actually knows you. He offers to prepare them for you, but you decline: “I can do it. You’ve…already done too much for me today.”

Jade pats your head. “If you insist.”

You ask him to wait on the couch while you go into the kitchen with the fruit. Lost in thought with ambivalent feelings about the vampire you’ve spent all day with, the knife slips and makes a small cut on your finger. You hiss and go to the sink to wash it but Jade entering the kitchen stops you.

“Hm, so clumsy, it seems I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.” Jade says, catching your wrist. He rotates your hand until he can see your cut, popping your finger into his mouth. You hate that when he looks back up at you, still sucking on your finger, he smirks at how flustered you’ve obviously become. He finally releases you a few moments later. “Vampiric saliva does have healing properties, but it’s best if we further clean and disinfect it.”

When you don’t protest, Jade pulls you out of the kitchen and onto the couch. He comes back a couple minutes later with supplies. After disinfecting your cut, he places a bandaid on it.

“Thank you, Jade.” For all his faults, he has taken good care of you.

“You’re welcome, my dear. It’s getting rather late, let me walk you back to your room.”

“Yes, because the mansion is so incredibly dangerous at night.” Jade gives a polite chuckle at your statement, but his grip on your hand doesn’t lessen.

“With you being so…accident-prone, it seems better to be safe than sorry, no?” Jade says.

You refuse to argue with him anymore, so the two of you continue on your way. It’s only when you’ve arrived at your door, ready to say good night to him, that he whispers in your ear: “Floyd wasn’t exaggerating it seems. Your blood truly was addicting.”

With that he’s gone back down the hall, and you enter your room, heart racing.

[fangsforiris]

Hii! Thanks for my Jennifers body request❤️ when you have time, can you make them (Sakamaki and Mukami) react to Cassie from Euphoria? Do everything when you can, I can wait ❤️

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Sakamaki's & Mukami's Reaction to Cassie Howard from 'Euphoria'

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Hi again!! Thank you so much for the ask!! I hope you enjoy how I perceive the diaboys in the scenario. Thank you again and to other stars for your support, it means the world. <33

Word Count: 2159

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Sakamaki’s:

Shuu (Ririe):

☄ Shuu normally doesn't get involved with people by his own will. After all, half of his interactions with individuals thus far has been due to the manipulation of events by others and by chance. 

☄ But as an individual, he wouldn’t see Cassie anymore than just a potential target for blood if he was truly desperate. 

☄ Knowing that women and men attract themselves to him like a magnet, he wouldn’t have to do much if he needed to use Cassie for his own needs. 

☄ Cassie would probably like someone like Shuu, seeing that he’s attractive and carries a layer of nonchalance. 

☄ If he were to find out about her substance addiction, he’d feel some sort of void… it’s as if he understands those feelings of self-loathing far too well?

☄ Considering that he’s probably tried to find the answers at the bottom of the bottle, much to his despair, like Cassie, turned up empty handed. 

☄ Shuu would realistically not care for Cassie, choosing to stay emotionally detached from any drama that can surface from any potential involvement with her. 

☄ The million dollar question: is she his type? Not at all. 

☄ Like most, she serves to be someone who Shuu would only find a use if he was on the brink of it and was in a do or die situation. 

Reiji: 

☄ Reiji would instantly find her pathetic.

☄ Not only for her obvious stupidity, but for her insecurity and need for male validation. 

☄ He wouldn’t get how women succumb to this type of state so easily. However, he’d put two and two together and pin it on daddy issues. 

☄ (As if he doesn’t suffer from mommy, daddy, and older brother issues–)

☄ Reiji’s the type to be quite hypocritical towards anyone’s problems, and if anyone were to call him out for the blatant hypocrisy, he’d shut it down immediately.

☄ However, Reiji might carry out a clinical analysis of her problems with substance misuse and mental health concerns. Considering how he has a large access to drugs and pharmaceuticals. 

☄ Almost like Nate, if need be he’d easily manipulate her using the very substances she takes to remedy her pain. 

☄ Perhaps lace her drink if they were at a party, test out his new drugs, that sort of thing. 

☄ Would he want to get involved, especially knowing that everyone knows of her sex life? Not at all. He’d claim that she wasn’t at all a decent or respectable woman and wouldn’t want that to taint his own reputation. 

Laito:

☄ Laito, having similar taste to Ayato, would go for her. 

☄ 100% by the end of the week he’d have slept with her. 

☄ Most likely would make a bet with Ayato or Kanato to see who gets with her first. 

☄ Laito would assume his usual ‘stalk his prey’ tactics, along with mindlessly flirting with her. 

☄ He’d ask her about her day, make her feel worth the attention she’s receiving, and assure her that she’s more than her body. (In a sense, tell her things he wished others told him. But don’t tell him that, he’d lose it.)

☄ He’s also the one who’s most likely to manipulate her in hopes of getting what he wants. 

☄ He’d instantly be able to tell her vulnerabilities, and considering there’s so many, she’d be easy prey. 

☄ Unfortunate for Cassie, as she would instantly fall to his whims in pursuit of ‘real love’ which is not Laito’s speciality. 

☄ She’d become even more of a wreck after dealing with Laito, emotionally that is. 

☄ Cassie better get ready for either heaven or hell, because with Laito if he doesn’t get his way he’ll either make it the worst experience ever or let you have some fleeting moment of enjoyment. 

Kanato:

☄ After hearing about her reputation amongst the guys and girls at their school, Kanato would already have a set idea of what she’s about. 

☄ That is, not a very good one. (Unfortunatley, just how rumors spread, most likely he’d know about the leaked sex tapes, and thus the torture begins.) 

☄ Perhaps someone, Ayato or Laito, might’ve sent them to him just to prove a point. 

☄ He’d be able to tell just by the bet Laito made that she wasn’t the type of girl he ever wanted to become associated with. 

☄ If he saw her in the halls, he’d feel bad. Mainly because he’d think back to Laito and how he’d feel if it was Laito painted with the same brush Cassie was being painted with currently. 

☄ That’s assuming that Laito doesn’t already have his persona and ‘theme’ already made for him. (Spoiler Alert: He already has that reputation going for him.)

☄ On the slight chance he does interact with Cassie, he’d perhaps treat her to a drink or two, just to be nice, and leave her alone. 

☄ Perhaps even in a fit of annoyance would he scold her for her lack of self-respect and to fix it. 

Ayato:

☄ Ayato would find her hot. Simple as that. We all know his set taste in women, and based on looks alone he’d instantly make a move. 

☄ As in, if they were to pass each other in the halls he’d start his chase. 

☄ He’d definitely harass Cassie for her number. Follow her around, and toy around with her. 

☄ It might at first come off as pushy, making Cassie use a bit of her head to decipher that this isn’t at all what she wants. 

☄ But due to the repeated attention, small groping, and attempts at flirting, Cassie might find herself liking it. She’d feel guilty about it, but after a while she’d find every way to excuse it. 

☄ (This is, unfortunately, how she’ll display her desperation for wanting something that lasts.) 

☄ In terms of the bet with Laito, he’s sure as hell winning. Nothing will stop this man from claiming his oh-so-obvious prize in front of him. 

☄ And to flaunt it in front of his brothers? The motivation and competitiveness seems to have no limits. 

☄ I think Ayato would catch onto her insecurities, and feel bad about his approach thus far. Seeing as he’s the most ‘humane-like’ diaboy out of the entire cast. (Canon fact, stated by Karlheinz himself.)

Subaru:

☄ Subaru wouldn’t like the fact that Cassie constantly waited on men, or lied in waiting. 

☄ Ever since the incident with his mother, resulting in his existence, and the aftermath to cover it, he hates women who would let themselves lose every part of themselves just for a man to potentially look their way. 

☄ Most likely, he’d see his mom in Cassie, specifically in terms of her need to please and wait. 

☄ I guess he’d consider her to be conventionally attractive, but he wouldn’t make a move. 

☄ Someone like Cassie, especially with her current reputation, isn’t his type. He’d rather someone more lowkey so his half-brothers wouldn’t catch on. Or anyone for that matter. 

☄ He wouldn’t necessarily care about her body count, but more so the fact that everyone knows her personal business. 

☄ Subaru is an avid believer of keeping your sex life private. He doesn’t like it when people know what he’s up to, and this can be for anything, but especially this. 

☄ This is probably the only thing he holds more of a modest view of, since he tends to get embarrassed easily. 

☄. *. ⋆

Mukami’s:

Ruki:

☄ Ruki, similar to Reiji, wouldn't have an interest in women with ‘loose morals.’ 

☄ As in, he wouldn’t be interested in knowing that a potential partner of his (assuming if Ruki wanted to pursue Cassie) had their nudes and sex tape leaked for everyone to see. 

☄ He’d use it as an excuse to use her if needed, perhaps if he really needed sustenance for blood. Other than that, I don’t see Ruki interested in Cassie. 

☄ He’d maybe have a few one-liners about her if any of her brothers toyed around with her, possibly judging them. 

☄ But would Ruki pursue Cassie? Not exactly. 

☄ He likes knowing that those within his possession wouldn’t disobey him or do something that makes him look bad, in a sense almost like McKay. 

☄ If he found out that Cassie had a substance abuse problem, he’d let his brothers know about it then leave it at that. 

☄ Ruki wouldn’t go out of his way for someone like Cassie unless it benefited him or it was to lend some aid to his brothers. 

☄ On the off chance these two do interact, he’d be cordial, leaving whatever current events about her that’s currently running wild in the air. 

Kou:

☄ Kou would definitely shoot his shot right at the get go. 

☄ Perhaps do some light watching from a distance/information collecting to see what she’s all about. 

☄ But based on looks alone? Easily a 10. And easily someone he’d want to spend a night or two with. 

☄ However, I doubt he’d be into her insecurity in every single thing she did. Cassie tends to solely do things due to male validation. 

☄ Either Kou would get tired of it, wanting his prey to at least have a mind of their own, or utilize it to his advantage and simply opt for manipulating her. 

☄ He’d 100% guilt trip her like the other men she’s been with. Stating that if he’s putting in so much of his own energy to get to know her, shouldn’t she do the same? 

☄ If he found out about her drug use, he would slightly find sympathy to spare. After all, he out of everyone understands the struggle of substance abuse. 

☄ Coupled with Cassie’s obvious sexual trauma, perhaps he’d see a little bit of him in her. Causing him to take a moment to reflect on his own actions, making him question if going down this route with a human would make him just like his abusers. 

☄ However, what he wouldn’t like about her is her lack of mental strength for ridding herself of the craving for validation. 

☄ Like he gets it but at the same time, you can’t promise salvation to someone who can’t see the promised land being mentioned. 

Yūma:

☄ Yūma wouldn’t find Cassie to be all that appealing. Sure she’s pretty, but what else is there? 

☄ Cassie wouldn’t be an ideal type for someone like Yūma, considering how he too has his own demons to figure out considering he’s an amnesiac. 

☄ Yūma wouldn’t want to go for someone who doesn’t have any loyalties in check. 

☄ This is, assuming he knew about the Cassie and Maddy situation. 

☄ After all, if there’s one thing Yūma is, it’s loyal. He’s loyal to his brothers and consistently has their back. 

☄ He couldn’t ever think of betraying their trust or doing anything to purposely hurt them. He may look the part, but he’s truly caring to those who warrant it.

☄ For Season 1 Cassie, he’d probably shoot his shot. Seeing as she’s less ‘problematic’ then and has less of a bad reputation.

☄ If Yūma found out about Cassie’s childhood via. word of mouth, gossip, whatever the case may be, he’d hold some empathy for her. 

☄ He’d certainly have a one-liner or two about the daddy issues being a major contributor to how she is, but he wouldn’t say anything more— that is unless he’s provoked. Then it’s fair game in his eyes. 

Azusa:

☄ Azusa wouldn’t know what to feel about Cassie.

☄ It’s not like she’s ugly, far from it. It’s just… he doesn’t think he’d see himself within a relationship with her.

☄ Azusa’s ideal type is someone who’s most likely strong, both mentally and maybe physically. Someone who would be able to push him around, but chooses not to. 

☄ Almost like a dom partner, but who’s caring towards him and helps him through his self-harming tendencies. 

☄ Cassie doesn’t seem like that type of person. She, like Azusa, seems like an individual more likely to be manipulated and used for someone else’s benefit. 

☄ Azusa would feel bad about whatever it is she’s going through, especially if they happen to meet in a party setting. But he wouldn’t make any advances towards her.

☄ On the off chance they do interact, and Cassie’s in one of her moments where she feels powerless, thus displaying her ‘crazier than maddy side’ she brags about in the show, he’d most likely ask for her to take out all her frustration on him. 

☄ For most of his interactions, Azusa has that small voice at the back of his head begging to be torn apart. 

☄ It’s self-destructive, but as we know, he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

☄. *. ⋆

I hope you enjoyed this ask!! I'll be working on Shuu's HC's next.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! Can I request a morpheus x reader where Dream reads to his s/o until she falls asleep, cause he knows she loves his voice and since she's been away from the dreaming for awhile, he misses her? Thank you

I had so much fun writing this, thank you!!🌺The poem is "Rondel of Merciless Beauty" by Geoffrey Chaucer

[Sandman-inspired playlist] || [MASTERLIST] || 🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

In some sense, he is being held hostage. With your head on his chest and an arm around his torso, there is no way Morpheus could simply slip away like an autumn leaf drifting on the cold breeze. Of course, those details would be important if there was even a speck of will in him to get away from this entanglement of limbs. That, however, remains inexistent. For the first time in his exceptionally long life, he is enjoying confinement.

Of course, he noticed you have been gone from Dreaming for quite a while. He tends to keep a little too much to himself to openly admit that he misses you or, perhaps, he's being very human in his fear of love turning bitter and sour like a mouthful of old blood. But Morpheus is a king of dreams, not hearts, and that means his affections shall flourish whether he wants them to or not like a defiant vine of wildflowers. 'What could be keeping you up at night?', he wondered and so he embarked on a journey to the Waking World only to find you lying restlessly in your bed. 'You need to rest', he kept saying as though part of him naively hoped you'd finally read between the lines of his half-truths and fulfil his desperate yearning for your company. But even if you did have such power, it wouldn't change much - you would still find it quite impossible to fall asleep. All of those little things, trembling hearts and unspoken confessions, brought you to this flustering moment of intimacy as Morpheus is reading a volume of poetry to you:

Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene; Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

His voice is low, somewhat strict-sounding in its huskiness but it doesn't deplete the romanticism of the words he's reading, quite the contrary - they appear all the more raw and sincere. A brighter voice speaking of devotion, praising the love that brought the man to his knees, might appear a little too honeyed to be considered completely inconspicuous. Arsenic, after all, is said to taste sweet.

Morpheus was also once serene - up until the moment he met you. Ever since there seemed to be a ghost haunting his thoughts, a strange sensation that got a hold of him and refuses to let go. Whenever he leaves his thoughts unattended, they quickly take on your shape as though that was their natural state. From a man serene, Morpheus became a man tormented in the sweetest way a mind could be imprisoned like a planet that keeps circling the same sun, running along its unchanged orbit.

With your head lying on his chest, you can feel his voice rumbling underneath his ribs mere seconds before he reads another few words as though those borrowed confessions of world-shattering love do not come from a silver-coated tongue but Dream's very viscera or a dark depth of his old soul that he is yet to uncover; perhaps he is pouring his own yearning into words that do not belong to him. Maybe this is why people love poetry so much - they see their own reflection and hear their own voice between words their hands did not write. Morpheus reads on:

Only your word will heal the injury To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean - Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene.

What a wonderful thought it truly is: that one word from you, a mere sigh perhaps, can mend wounds hiding behind his collected demeanour; scars that haven't bled in a long time but were still sore to the touch. And if it was true, if your blessing could seal the festering tears behind his ribs, would you not become part of him until the end of time? Would his heartbeat not echo with yours? Would he not taste you on his tongue with every word he speaks?

Morpheus bends his neck to look at your calm expression. He was a creature of no true shape, the lord of dreams as well as nightmares, the only entity to ever know the horrors and marvels of human thoughts - but he was also home; a beast of sharp teeth that chooses to lick instead of bite. A decision to be vulnerable, is this courage?

"Don't stop," you whisper in a barely audible, tired voice. And he dares not:

Upon my word, I tell you faithfully Through life and after death you are my queen; For with my death the whole truth shall be seen. Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene; Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

Your breaths are shallow and rhythmic - you're finally asleep, there's no doubt about that. Morpheus closes the volume and puts it away. His other hand firmly grabs your shoulder, ready to gently push your body off him and let you sleep, but the weight of your head on his chest and the way your arm tightly embraces him makes Morpheus strangely reluctant to take any action. This intimacy, serenity... it feels like a memory of a carefree summer day; an afternoon of lush, red strawberries eaten in the shade of a big tree and washed down with cold, sour lemonade - a memory of a summer that will never happen again, a day in July painted in the most luscious colours of nostalgia and child laughter. Perhaps, he could stay like this for a minute or two...

[elordislut]

Synopsis:

Willow "Kinney" Rivers

I had to run.

Fleeing from Duke University was never in my mother's plans for me, but I had run out of options. I had no other choice than to break her trust. North Carolina had nothing left for me. In fact, it never had anything for my soul. I craved more. No - I needed more.

The University of Oxford was meant to be a fresh start for me as I began my Junior year. I had dreamt of Oxford for as long as I could remember, clipping out news articles that fled the US regarding England's renowned college and plastering them in my 'dreams' notebook. I had left all of my secrets behind me in the states, and this was my chance to recreate myself and become the person I was always meant to be.

However, my new roommate had other plans.

Jacob Elordi

I couldn't help myself. The moment I saw the brunette plastered on my friend's sofa, I knew she was mine. There was nothing that would stop me from taking her. Even Willow herself couldn't stop me. I needed her more than breathing, my infatuation morphing into obsession the longer she remained clueless to my presence.

I had made a promise to myself the mere second I caught a glimpse of her soft, innocent face. I would break her, rearrange her pieces, and make her need me more than she ever dreamt possible.

She will be mine no matter how long the chase is.

She will bow to me.

Even if I have to take matters into my own hands and get them bloody.

__________

> Hello everyone! I was filtering through Jacob Elordi fanfiction on AO3 and Wattpad with no luck of anything I found interesting enough with proper witting. I decided to take matters into my own hands and write one for myself and everyone else to enjoy.

> Please note this is a DARK ROMANCE that takes place in an alternate universe. Jacob is not famous and attends the University of Oxford in England along with many originally characters. And possibly Harry Styles later on because I’m a sucker.

> I am including a snippet of the prologue below so you can get a taste of my writing to see if you will enjoy it. I will be posting these on Wattpad.

> This story will be updated every Saturday.

__________

PROLOGUE

PREVIEW ONLY

The door looms before me as I hold onto a box full of my personal items. The wood is a warm brown that teeters on the edge of orange. It makes me nauseous just looking at it. My stomach rolls as I reach for the black doorknob. The color of the metal clashes against the wood, causing me to inwardly cringe. It reminds me of Halloween in a not so aesthetic way. It's hideous.

The University of Oxford makes me feel nauseous in general as anxiety sinks it's nails deep into my stomach and claws it's way up my insides. As I push the door open to reveal my new living space, I stagger backwards at the smell of fresh paint and sawdust. The scent does nothing to calm my racing heartbeat as I walk through the threshold. I take a deep breath to rest my racing mind. The carpet is red and looks like blood that has been dried up for weeks. My stomach lurches again.

I'm not ready.

Leaving North Carolina was never in my mother's plans for me. As much as I'd always yearned to attend such a renowned, foreign school, she forced me to forget my dream the moment I could utter the word 'college'. She told me it would never happen, and that I had somewhere better to look forward to. My entire life bad been planned out for me before I was even born. I've never been my own person, and the thought of starting now — and what felt like a million miles away from my hometown — is nearly enough to knock me off of my feet.

I inhale shakily, my manicured fingertips drumming softly against the box in my hand as I walk into the room with a lag in my steps. I observe the room quickly, a frown gracing my lips as the same, ugly brown tone decorates the space before me. There's merely two beds on either side of the room with a desk at the foot of each one. The only other piece of furniture is the red sofa that rests between the two beds up against the wall. It looks to be a futon, and the color is nearly identical to the carpet that is glued to the floor.

I'm quick to set my cardboard container onto the table top of my desk before walking back to the hall and grabbing the very few bags of decor I had along with a carry on case. I wasn't much for packing heavily, and a fresh start was exactly what I wanted. Bringing my things from home felt like it would be a massive mistake especially since I had no other choice but to get away from that place. I didn't want to remember or relive any part of my past now that I was in England.

It seems as though I am the first one in the room. It resembles exactly what I believe an expensive asylum to look like, albeit with less tiling. The windows are articulate. They range from the floor to the ceiling but are designed in a 1930s architecture. The stone that surrounds each of the fourteen windows is weathered and cracking, giving off a medieval vibe to the otherwise mid century style. The room is very eccentric, and I can't decide if the colors are the worst thing I've ever seen or if they just remind me that I'm no longer at Duke — 'an Ivy League University of the South'.

I inhale sharply, forcing my mind into a state of relaxation as I begin to rummage through my things. I'm quick to place my fake plants along the bottom of the windowsill and on top of the provided desk. Once everything looks exactly the way I want it to, I allow myself a moment to look out the window and take in the scenery. We're at the back of the campus, in front of a wooded area that's currently bare due to the chilled air that makes it's way through Oxford.

I open the middle window, smiling as the cool air brushes into the room. The balcony that is laid out before me is just as weathered as the crowning around the windows. It's easily accessible, and I can't stop myself from picturing a warm coffee and a book accompanying me out here every morning. 

As I climb back through the window, I see a flash of black at the entryway. I immediately turn to glance at the open door, instantly relaxing as I see a girl talk to another hall mate. She isn't dressed in black, but my mind plays tricks on me lately. I shake my head in annoyance at myself as I begin pulling out my soft green sheets. They're a shade between sage and pistachio, but not quite as blue. My teeth capture my bottom lip between them as I contemplate the correct color all the while covering the sheets with an oversized, white comforter.

Once my bedding looks perfect along with my white and green pillowcases, I can't help but immediately reach for a book. My clothing and school supplies can wait until tomorrow. My first class isn't until Tuesday morning, and it's currently Saturday afternoon. I release my hair from a brown claw-clip before sauntering to the sofa. I sniff the fabric that covers the seating quickly, making sure it's been clean before flopping onto it. My bare legs bend upward, swaying softly in the air as I lay my book out in front of me.

Just as I get deep into my romance novel, I feel a chill slide along my spine. As I glance up, I jump slightly. An embarrassing gasp escapes me. My quivering hand rests tenderly along my chest to cover my racing heart. I can't help the feeling of doom settling into my gut.

"Christ," I curse quietly, southern accent on full display, "you scared the shit out of me."

TO BE CONTINUED…

click the link to read more.

[cherrylng]

Great Guitarists 100 - Brian May, Angus Young, Johnny Ramone, and Tom Verlaine [CROSSBEAT (November 2009)]

Brian May An essential part of the Brian May story is his self-made guitar, known as the 'Red Special' because of its red body. It was completed by the 16-year-old and his father, who was an engineer, using wood from a century-old fireplace, and attracted a lot of attention at the time of Queen's debut as a 'magic guitar' that could produce violin and horn sounds in addition to the original sound of the guitar. The sound was ridiculed as that of a synthesiser, so it is famous that the band always stated 'no synthesiser' on their early albums. His two albums, 'Sheer Heart Attack', with its Tsugaru shamisen-like interplay, and 'A Night at the Opera', which includes the classic 'Bohemian Rhapsody', a jazz band-style clarinet and even the British national anthem, are two of his best-known albums. A masterpiece where you can enjoy "guitar orchestration". His solo work 'Back to the Light', you can hear the relaxed and unique tearful phrases typical of his love of Jeff Beck and Jimi Hendrix. It's also unique in that he uses a sixpence coin to produce it, rather than a regular pick. There are many artists who have been influenced by him not only in the guitar but also in the construction of the sound world, such as Green Day and My Chemical Romance for the dramatic side, and Foo Fighters for the hard rock side of his music. -Ikuyo Kotani

Representative albums "Sheer Heart Attack" (1974, photo) Queen "A Night at the Opera" (1975) "Back to the Light" (1992) Brian May

Angus Young Today he is universally recognised as a "rock 'n' roll guitar icon", but it wasn't that long ago that the true nature of Angus Young's guitar playing came to be appreciated in its own right. That's because AC/DC were treated as more metal than they should have been. They were too classically uninspired to be called heavy metal, and their playing was too bluesy and dated to be classified as punk. Therefore, I don't think his playing has ever been properly introduced, especially in countries like Japan, which likes to define its own musical categories. The source of Angus' playing can be traced back to the British beat of the 1960s, with blues-tinged garage bands such as the early Stones, The Yardbirds and Them. The Easybeats, with which his own brother George was a member, were also active in the mod circles at the time. The musical elements thus imbibed were even closer to pub rock than metal, so much so, in fact, that when AC/DC first entered the UK, the record company tried to market them as a punk band. His ironclad riff playing became a standard hip-hop sampling after the heyday of metal in the 70s and 80s, and has been found universal by the grunge generation of the 90s and the new garage generation of the 00s. -Sawada Taiyo

Representative albums "If You Want Blood You've Got It" (1978, photo) AC/DC "Back in Black" (1980) "Black Ice" (2008), same

Johnny Ramone A combination of gruff down-picking and concise riffs, no wonder he used to be a bassist. Of course, he doesn't play guitar solos. It's not that he had an idea, it's just that when he formed the band, that's all he could do, I suppose. But by mastering the only thing they could do, it became their unique personality. And what Johnny Ramone had done became the theory that "when you play punk, you need taste and guts, not necessarily technique". He is credited with getting a lot of young people to pick up the guitar and say, "If that's the case." To get an idea of the Ramones' rich musicality, it is necessary to listen to their mid- and late-period works. However, when it comes to the charm of the guitar, the three early albums with their bare-bones sound, namely 'Ramones', 'Leave Home' and 'Rocket to Russia', are the best examples of this. The Ramones' sound was perfected with these three albums and never rusted over the next two decades. No, on the contrary, it is now established as the Ramones punk genre. It goes without saying that the core of the band is Johnny's playing, who has been playing Mosrite guitars all his life. -Tomoo Yamaguchi

Representative albums "Ramones" (1976, photo) The Ramones "Leave Home" (1977) "Rocket to Russia" (1977)

Tom Verlaine Television was one of the leading figures of 70s New York punk, and had a huge influence on the later grunge/alternate and post-punk revival. The band released only two original albums and a live album before reuniting in 1992, and at the time sales were lacklustre, but today they are a charismatic presence that is recognised by all. The main attraction of the band was Tom Verlaine's innovative guitar sound. His trademarks were the Fender Jazzmaster and Jaguar. At a time when Gibson Les Pauls and Fender Stratocasters were at their height, these guitars were regarded as somewhat outdated models, but they attracted many musicians with their unique playing style, which involved wiggling the tremolo arm and applying a spasmodic vibrato. The ensemble with another guitarist, Richard Lloyd (who later teamed up with Robert Quine for many great performances), was also a vital part of the band, and their interplay on "Marquee Moon" was particularly impressive. After the band broke up, Tom started his solo career. He took on new challenges such as incorporating reggae into his music, while still delivering a sharp guitar sound. -Takanori Kuroda

Representative albums "Marquee Moon (1977, photo) Television "Adventure" (1978) "The Blow-Up" (1982)

Translator's Note: The only other reason that I'm translating this article, besides Matt, is because of Brian May. I love my soft intelligent men with curly hair 🥺💕

[mysaldate]

Why Leona and Vil get treated differently – and why not everything is always about race

Yeah yeah, it’s been a long time since this discourse happened... not. Because apparently we’re beating this horse even after it’s deader than Cater’s clones. Somehow this stupid conversation keeps getting rekindled over and over and over and over again, and I’m just so tired so I’m just gonna put my thoughts down so that the next time I get caught up in it, I’ll have this post at the ready. Read at your own risk, this may trigger some people, especially those who claim the only reason anyone would ever dislike Leona is his skin color and not, you know, everything he does.

Leona’s murder attempt was pre-meditated. Unlike Vil, Leona spent quite a long time planning out everything he did in episode 2. He made sure the injuries happened in a way that couldn’t be linked back to him and that nobody could see Ruggie while he was using his unique magic. When it came to the actual murder, he even made a deal with Azul to ensure the event venue was set up in a certain way and that Ruggie got a potion to boost his magic before the whole thing started. Vil, on the other hand, snapped under momentary pressure, and didn’t spend weeks planning how to murder a rival over a competition.

Leona was ready to go through with it. I see a lot of people conveniently ignoring this but someone actually did die during Leona’s murder attempt – Cater’s clones did. Now, whether or not clone lives count as actual lives is irrelevant at the moment because all that matters is that Leona didn’t stop until there were bodies on the ground. Remember he watched the whole thing. He knew what was going on and when to stop. On the other hand, Vil immediately stopped the second a new element was introduced that snapped him out of whatever he was going on. Which brings me to my next point.

Leona acted with full clarity. Unlike Vil, Leona was fully in control the whole time. Vil was in a haze of reliving his past trauma, a haze that he snapped out of the second someone other than his target spoke to him. Leona, while motivated by past trauma, was fully in control of his actions.

Leona never showed any growth. This may be a controversial point for some people. And I understand that Leona is older than most of the other characters, however that does not make him stubbornly refusing to admit he did anything wrong any less jarring. Everyone showed tangible visible growth after their overblot, except Leona.

We are clear on what Leona wanted. With Vil, we never got a clear-cut confirmation that he was out for blood. We know something unsavory would’ve happened to Neige if he drank the apple juice, but truth is, it was never explicitly stated that he would die (if it was in EN, then just chuck that on the pile of things EN ruined). People just jumped to assuming murder because that’s what we’ve seen before and because Vil is associated with poinsons.

And when it comes to how their attempts were handled in-universe, let’s take a look at that.

Leona got called out by Lilia. It was vicious and rude, yes. Was it racist of Lilia to tear into Leona? No. No part of Lilia’s insults had to do with Leona’s race. He compared Leona with Malleus and evaluated which one of them has a personality more suited for a leader – the answer should be clear if you consider which one of them committed murder over a sports contest. This was also after Leona attempted to murder Lilia’s son, his son’s best friend, and a person he’s been taking care of for decades, or possibly even longer. Leona is lucky Lilia is no longer in his general days otherwise he’d likely be made into a throwrug, how handsome is up to your personal tastes. However, Leona’s call-out ended there with no further consequences other than being disqualified from the contest.

Vil got called out by nearly the entirety of the VDC group. Granted, it wasn’t that vicious or rude, but that’s because it didn’t get personal with anyone. Had he killed Neige, it wouldn’t personally affect any of the VDC group members. While Rook is a huge fan of Neige’s, that’s as far as it goes. However, Vil had lasting consequences from this lapse of judgement. You can find my full analysis of that mess here. That alone makes fans less eager to harp on him, since it at least feels like he got what he deserved – or possibly even more – while Leona gets to walk free with one verbal scolding.

Lastly, if you’re here to tell me to kms or harass me, do us both a favor and just click block and hide. I’ve got enough of that to the point where I just roll my eyes and block you back without it really affecting me. You’re just wasting your time as well as mine. You can think Lilia calling out Leona for murder was racist but at that point, you’re just willing to use skin color as a free get out of consequences card, and I have no desire to talk to people like that.

If you agree, feel free to share, if you’d like to respectfully debate, I’m 100% down for that too, just know that I tend to be pretty stubborn😅

Edit: If you are here to talk about wider fandom treatment of dark-skinned characters, that isn't what this post is about so please just make your own. This post is about a specific situation. Of course, there will always be bad people who judge people and characters based on skin color, but let's not act like everyone who dislikes Leona does so for those reasons. There's plenty of differences between his and Vil's situation that can make people like one and dislike the other without being racially charged. THAT is the point of this post.

[woodblxssomcrowned]

How did women deal with periods in the WSE? Were there differences between shinobi women and other women? If contraceptive seals were used, did these impact menstruation cycles?

Below is a mix of established headcanons and WIP brainstorming. If the topics of menstruation, contraceptives and pregnancy makes you uncomfortable maybe don't read further.

So…I should clarify this first: when I visualize the WS era and early Founders era in terms of aesthetic and technological advancement, I typically see a mix of Japan's sengoku period (Warring States Era), edo period, meji and taisho period.  Like, electricity and such exists, but the technology is about equivalent to that of the mid to late 1800’s Japan with major advancements only being made after the WS era ended. So yea there are cameras and electricity is a thing, but outside of well established cities you'll rarely ever see any of it.

So no modern menstrual products of the kind many of us are used to. Though sanitary pads of this type made by hand would be used, shinobi would hardly panic over a bit of blood on their clothes, and keeping your body and clothes clean through daily or at least regular bathing, washing and maintenance was common practice just as a general standard. But when herbal remedies and seals that has the high likelihood of stopping your cycle completely were easily available, those options were much preferred to shinobi who were out in the field or on missions where dealing with everything that menstruation entails would be too much of a hassle. In the HCs I go by, there are two means of reliable contraception used by AFAB shinobi pre-village, including Kaname, both of which had a very high likelihood of affecting ones cycle. 

There are herbal remedies, used by people of all social classes, not just shinobi. They are considered a common medicine and while the exact composition can vary depending on the region or clan it’s typically much of the same and functions pretty much like that of the modern irl Contraceptive Pill or Plan B pill, in that it stops your body from producing the hormones that will trigger ovulation. 

The type Kaname uses is formed into a pill that can be swallowed whole or dissolved in water before ingesting, and has to be taken daily. The texture and taste of it isn't great, but it does its job. Kaname doesn’t get her period when she takes this, but if you stop taking it you can experience some withdrawal symptoms of cramping, bleeding and mood swings before the body settles back into a regular the cycle.  Prolonged use of the remedy will also have the effect of making it difficult for a fertilized egg to implant itself in the womb, so even if the ovulation for some reason occurred the odds of it resulting in a viable pregnancy is very slim.  If a pregnancy was desired however, it could take several months for everything that the remedy had affected to really return to normal. A few decades into the era of the hidden villages these remedies would be refined into something much more similar to the modern irl contraceptive pill.

Then there’s the seal, which is pretty much exclusively used by shinobi. Your general civilian wouldn't have access to the knowledge or skills to use such seals, and samurai would be unlikely to use them for the same reasons that they won't meddle with ninjutsu. In my own HCs, the seal does pretty much the same as the herbal remedy in that it inhibits the body from producing the hormone that will trigger ovulation.  While the seal can be placed pretty much anywhere on the body, the abdomen or lower back is traditional, but the abdomen or lower arm is more common. Kaname would typically get hers on her abdomen, with the help of a friend, her mother, or someone trained in medical ninjutsu who would typically have the knowledge. When activated it’s no longer visible to the naked eye, but when it’s deactivated it becomes visible again so having it in a spot that can be easily seen is considered most practical as to regularly check it's still active.  Some prefer it over the herbal remedies because it typically stays activated for about 100 days and you don’t have to think about it much in the meantime. Though it can be somewhat unreliable at times even for shinobi.  Because it’s a seal that affects one’s bodily functions and isn’t meant to cause harm from long-term use certain limitations are usually in place in order to keep it working with the body as seamlessly as possible, and from negatively affecting it permanently in ways such as infertility, irregular and painful cycles, mood swings and depression. One of these limitations is the fact that it only stays active for a limited period of time, and has to be renewed regularly with a process that’s usually difficult and tedious to do on one’s own.

Attempts at making more long-term seals have been made but have usually resulted in unstable seals or permanent damage to the wearer's body and reproductive abilities. 

A common fault of these seals is that it is prone to be deactivated or destabilized by irregular chakra flow.  For example, if Kaname were to open one of the eight gates, consciously or not, the atypical amount of chakra that is pushed through her body could cause the seal to become unstable, or if she momentarily disrupts her chakra flow to try and break away from a genjutsu or someone targets a pressure point the same thing may happen. Certain ninjutsu type medical procedures may also disrupt the seal.  An unstable seal may cause random and irregular cycles and if the wearer is sexually active then there is a risk of accidental pregnancies.

Because of the pros and cons of both these methods, it’s not unusual or harmful to use both or switch between them. Kaname have used both, either simultaneously or separately. She experiences pretty bad cramping so not having her cycle is ideal to her so will use at least one of the methods, usually the herbal remedy. And if she's in a period of being sexually active on the regular, like if she's in a relationship, then she prefers to use both just to cover all her bases.

[kaelsleftverdantsphere]

Every flower blooms in its own time - 1

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AN: Is this silly? Yes. Is this heartwarming? Yes. Did I cry over this idea so badly like a million times already? Yes.

Malfurion is way more of a father figure to me than my own father has ever been and as such, he will be Kael's as well. Don't think about the logistics of that too hard.

Atleast half of this was written while tipsy (ginger shots with white wine are surprisingly good) so please excuse gramatical errors and typos.

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The boat ride was excruciatingly long and painfully... Wobbly. The prince's stomach was not built for this in any capacity, so the joy he felt when they'd finally reached the shore was palpable.

He got off the boat as soon as possible while still managing to look regal in the process. Finally taking a moment to look up at the sky and most importantly at the giant tree infront of him. He only barely silenced the little "Wow" that brewed in his mouth.

"Do they live... IN the tree? Is there like a... A door or something?"

"No, my liege," one of his servants started. "They live in the tree, yes, but-" he pointed up. "at the top..."

"Oh... That makes more sense-..." He nodded. "How do we get there then?"

"There is a portal over there-"

"OH-" Kael would swear it wasn't there just a second ago. "Yes, alright... Let's get on with this then, huh?"

His legs were a bit shaky, as was the entirety of him. The mana withdrawal symptoms were not treating him kindly and neither was the nervousness from meeting Malfurion Stormrage himself.

When the group of blood elven diplomats got to the top, he could swear the whole city suddenly fell silent. Atleast before a huntress took a step forward to them.

"You must be prince Kael'thas, am I correct?" She carefully examined the unusually pale elf.

"Yes, that would be me-"

"Good, Malfurion is expecting you..." She reached her hand for his and within moments was leading him -somewhere-. The other blood elves were shocked by her so casually touching royalty, but ended up assuming being hands-on was just a part of Darnassian culture.

The prince found himself in a... Well it was almost definitelly a building. A wholy unfamiliar one at that. He felt incredibly small compared to both the elves all around as well as the architecture.

He walked to the druid slowly, calculating every move as to not to reveal his weakened state. The energy of this place was tangible, he could almost taste it on his tongue- but it made him feel even weaker in comparison.

"Young Kael'thas" the deep voice spoke and Kael immediatelly felt a wave of distaste fall on him. "Tyrande told me you would come..."

"Ah yes... I have met her-..." Kael's voice broke and he had to cough a bit to regain the ability to speak. He should have drank that mana potion on the boat. This is embarassing. "I... We spoke about our need of aid and she didn't hesitate to tell me I should ask for help here... So I came..."

"She has said so as well... I am acquainted with the situation of Quel'thalas and... I am terribly sorry for your loss, young prince..."

AGAIN, under different circumstances, Kael would be fuming.

"Thank you..." He said, simply not wanting to risk a longer response. Pathetic. However, when a bit of awkward silence set in, he continued. "I... Know you have zero reason to help my people, however-"

"Why do you think so, Kael?" The druid asked, genuinely.

"I-... Well..." He choked up, trying hard to not let another coughing fit escape him.

"I would love to try and help you, young one... It truly pains me to see you in such a sorry state." Malfurion sounded worried to him, but the prince's pride was hit HARD.

"I am unsure of what to say, um..." He stopped, having no idea as to how to refer to the druid. "Sir... Thank you... A million times thank you..."

"Do not thank me prematurely, young one..." He shook his head. "I assume you have all the time in the world right now..?"

"You assume correctly- although, that only applies if said time is spent by working to save my people..."

"I understand wholeheartedly, young one..." He smiled.

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When Rommath arrived in Darnassus a few months later, worried sick for the prince who had barely responded to any of his messages, the city was quite noisy with chatter of all kinds. Most of it in darnassian, of course, which he partially understood even if sometimes it just sounded fully made up.

He was lead to a place outside of Darnassus, lush with greenery of all sorts and painfully beautiful. The beauty probably there to contrast what he saw next.

First he obviously noticed the far taller man, but when he saw the smaller elf, he froze up entirely.

Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, heir to the throne of Quel'thalas, head of Silvermoon military and once a member of the Six of Dalaran. It took Rommath so long to recognise the peasant looking man, covered in dirt, pollen and grass, his hair tangled, with... Were those sticks in his hair? And leaves? Belore.

"I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE ALIVE!" The prince yelled, seemingly utterly insane to the grand magister. He was holding onto a couple of different flowers, smiling ear-to-ear.

Rommath came closer to the two and politely coughed to announce his presence.

"ROMMATH!" Kael screamed and ran to him, hugging him immediatelly.

"You smell like Halduron after a bad hunt, my liege..." He curled his lip and tried to pull the prince away. "Is this truly what you have been wasting your time doing? Laying in dirt?"

"Not precisely, I-" He said, still holding firmly onto his friend.

"I suppose atleast you gained some healthy weight back, you're no longer skin and bones... Nor are you deathly pale..."

"Those are all the side effects of nature magic, Rommath!" The prince's smile was shining like a million suns. "I feel... I feel incredible... You have to learn to channel it too-"

"I would rather not, Kael... You look horrible-" He ran a few fingers through the prince's hair, picking out leaves and sticks. "How undignified, your father would be disappointed so..." His eyebrows knit together, truly not taking in how much can go wrong with this man when he is not with him for just a bit.

"Rommath, I need you to listen to me, this is the way! It helped me and it will help all of us! We can heal the scar!" He pulled back. "Trust me..."

That did peak the magister's interest. "You think so?"

"I know so!"

"Fine... I will... I will hear you out- once you get a bath..."

The prince pouted. "Rude... Deal!"

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More time has passed and more blood elves have looked into the art of druidic magic. The grand magister, however, remained unconvinced.

"Any time you change back into your elven form, your hair is an absolute mess... Horrible..." He said, while brushing the other's hair. "I have never seen you like this... Well, if I forget all the times I saw you jumping around to get out of your undergarments..." He smirked.

"Stooop, I might look atrocious, but once I learn to control it better, I'll be glorious at all times..."

"I never said you looked atrocious, only that I have seen ogres more regal..." The dark haired elf chuckled.

"Hey! I still look like a royal... Especially here, it feels as if they haven't seen a short blonde in ages..."

"Wasn't the last short blonde they've seen Dath'remar?"

"Dath'remar was a ginger, Rommath, you should know that... "

"Ah yes, pardon me that I don't remember the hair color of each and every one of your ancestors... Or should I also remember their eye colors? Names of their partners? Do you know how long a list of those would be?"

"Ah, damn you!" Kael was laughing. "I think you should be aware the fully blonde genes only came around from my great grandmother's side of the family..."

"Why should I? To tell you your kitten form is blonde like your grandma or something?" He giggled.

"KITTEN?! IT'S A LYNX! AND A BIG ONE!"

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, darling..."

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... to be continued

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 8 - Runaway. Episode 7.

Andy: He glared at me and hit my shoulder* No! Idiot! Do you think I'm still suicidal? I will ask Gaby to make her family look into it. They know their way around magic and supernaturals, I'm pretty sure they can figure it out. Maybe run some tests on me? Don't worry, the thought of contacting him is far from on my mind. Or anyone else from his family. The only one I still wanna see is Marius, but there is no way I can get away with that without A finding out sooner or later.

Evan: *I nodded softly I knew A's son meant a great deal to Andy, maybe in some ways more than A ever did. And that was a lot more than anyone can imagine.* Just promise me, okay? I don't wanna lose you.

Andy: *He smiled softly* I don't wanna lose you either… or Congo for that matter… so I promise.

Evan: *I took a deep breath, followed by a drag of my cig. As I blew the smoke into the chilled night air I smiled at him softly* So, out of curiosity… are the other powers back as well?

Andy: *He chuckled softly* So far no… it seems to only be the fire, probably because of my anger towards A. The levitation I had to be completely at ease to use, and since I'm not at the moment, I cant even try to tab into it. Well I can, but it would be pointless. I did however poke my thumb with Lily's knife… I didn't tell her why. But so far the small cut I made looks natural. By now if I had my healing power, that tiny cut would almost have been gone. And its still there, looking exactly like when I made it. Except the blood is dried up, but that's considered natural as well. So no, seems to just be me and my fire.

Evan: *I sighed relieved* okay… so your state is still mild I guess, so I guess I'm not in any danger?

Andy: *Burst out in loud laughter* My state? You make me sound like I'm seriously ill and should be looked up in a hospital!

Evan: *I shook my head* you know what I mean Andy! I just worry about you…. and now also a bit that you will end up burning my hair off *I laughed loudly and pointed my tongue at him*

Andy: *He glared at me and pouted his lips* you be careful I don't burn something else off Mr Thompson!

Evan: *God I love him! I smiled bright and threw my cig, and as I did I grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in for a deep French kiss*

Andy: *He chuckled hoarse as I finally let him go* Woah! I should burst out in flames more often huh?

Evan: *I pointed my tongue at him* I suggest you don't. My mom always told me to don't play with fire.

Andy: *He laughed loudly and shook his head* guess I got a taste of my own medicine huh?

Evan: *I chuckled softly and caressed his cheek* so tell me, what do you wanna do now? It's too late to start asking Gaby's family to look into this. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to head home? I'm pretty sure Congo wont relax till he has you home safe…

Andy: *He nodded agreeing* Yeah… I know you are right. But maybe we could just stay here a bit longer?… Just a bit? *He smiled hopeful and rubbed his arms a bit, it was easy to see he was starting to get cold*

Evan: *I shook my head lightly* I think its better we head home, you are clearly starting to get cold, I don't wanna worry about you getting sick as well. Please?

Andy: He hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded softly Okay… but… can I ask you another thing then? I know it probably wont mean much to him anyway. But if there is a slight chance I can hurt him back, even if its only for a second or two… I will take it…

Evan: *I frowned a bit* I don't like where this is going… but tell me…

Andy: *He hesitated again, then went on* I know you still wanna keep our relationship as private as possible. But now when our closest friends and family knows about us, and at least Lily has accepted you… maybe we could finally have a profile picture on Facebook where we kiss? I mean, you wouldn't have to put it on your profile… I will put it on mine… of course I understand and respect if it's still too early for you. It would just mean a lot to me… not only to get back at him. Also just because I love you, and you know… it would make me happy to wear it as my profile picture.

Evan: *Now I was the one to hesitate for a moment.*

Andy: *Smiled softly* its okay to say no…

Evan: *I smiled warmly* I wont say no. If I'm not ready now, I don't think I ever will be. So… *I got up from the bench and dragged him after me, and there in the dimmed light from a lamp post, we placed Andy's phone on a dumpster, put a timer on it, got into position and started kissing, and just as the timer went beeping, Andy stuck a fuck finger right up in the lens. I have to admit, even with the smell of the dumbster, it was probably one of the most romantic and fulfilling moments of my life, mainly because the whole scenario just screamed Andy… and how I love him. We quickly agreed the outcome of us kissing and him flipping off the viewer was a perfect capture, so right there and then he posted it as his profile picture, let his phone slide back in his pocket, and after 10 minutes making out on the bench, we drove home.

Hiding in our warm cozy bed, we ended up making love for hours. Soft, breathtaking love, tangled in each other like there were no tomorrow.

[spaceumbredoggos]

So Much For Stardust Chapter Five

Major Trigger warning: Self harm, implied grooming, suicide attempt, parental abuse, psych ward themes, demonic possession, a really long chapter (not as long as the original draft because I didn’t kill Scalesy. I decided not to do that because he’s cute.), gore, drugs and alcohol, and lots of lore. I’d be surprised if Tumblr doesn’t mature rate this like it did to like two of my chapters. Enough rambling.

Kenz’s POV:

Blood. Blood as far as the eye could see. Blood in puddles. Blood in clumps. Torn skin smushed into the formerly clean white walls. Clots of blood staining the anti-suffocation sheets and blankets. The metallic acrid tangy smell. The dark crimson red. The sticky feel. The sharp irony taste. It’s everywhere. It’s all over the bed. All over the walls. Bloody triangles painted all with one eye. Right beside me was the razor my roommate had snuck in. She’s in a padded room now, pumped up with booty juice.

I twitched in my bed, waking up from the blur of the fight. The fight that I lost. How could I be so foolish? How could I have not been able to protect myself? I won a trophy in a Jui Jitsu tournament after all. I shouldn’t be losing fights.

It’s the nurses faults for this. Fuck them!!! Fuck everyone in this cruel world!!! They knew that my roommate was dangerous. How could they allow this? I’m about to die!!!

A nurse bolted in, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. I started sobbing, curling my fingers in. “Why didn’t you save me?!” I blinked and passed out.

I woke up in a different psych ward. Older. The wounds gone. What a terrible dream. I sat upright and clutched my umbreon plush for comfort. The trauma of the nurse’s negligence thankfully was more mental than physical. My roommate had thankfully never hurt me back then. But the thought that she might have given half the chance hurt like knives. I don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here. They separate us by gender, when I could be gay for all anyone can know. Boys can’t talk to girls. Girls can’t talk to boys. They can’t even be in the same room. Unlike the last place, you can’t even choose your menu.

At least my roommate seems to know how to get out of this place. Fake it till you make it. Go to every group. Get all the points you can. Eat at least 50% of your food no matter how disgusting it was. Even if all you want to do is sleep.

At least I’ll never end up in one of these places again, right? Right?

I gasped awake, shaking in my blankets. These were the blankets my gran had brought with me in to the ER. They managed to wash all the blood off of them. I only ever see the confines of this place. Am I in a psych ward? Is my dad’s old family friend my doctor? He seemed to know this stuff. Where’s everyone else? Why can’t I leave this room? At least Scalesy is my friend. However annoying he is. He won’t let me stand up. But why?

No one explicitly stated this was a psych ward, but the way Ford watches me, even in my own sleep. It feels like it. I wish I could move and walk. But now, I’m trapped in one of my false awakening dreams. “Not again!!! Not fucking again!!!” I thrashed myself, trying to wake up. But I couldn’t even move. “No no no!!!”

“Yes yes yes.” Bill turned my head over to face him, laughing his ass off. “Why are you here?”

“Stay still!!!” He snarled, his hands glowing in that familiar blue flame. I shook, only able to watch as Bill tore my soul out of my body. I gazed down, watching my own emerald green orbs turn bright electric yellow with slitted pupils. This isn’t a dream anymore.

Panicking, I searched around for Ford. To my surprise, he wasn’t in this room. I turned around to glare at Bill. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?”

“He’s just asleep in his room. The perfect opportunity to—“

Scalesy hissed and flared up his hood. Bill glared at the snake, raising his fist to smash its head. But it only shook in the air and fell to his side. “Fuck. I forgot that this body has too much empathy for animals. But what’s a snake to a man, anyways?”

Scalesy hissed and struck without biting, trying to intimidate Bill. “Aww. Your little hissy fit routine may work on predators, but I’m not gonna hurt you. Why do you insist on protecting this kid who can’t even speak parseltongue? The kid’s expendable. So what if they saved your life? They’re ruining mine!!!”

Bill managed to stand up, something I was unable to do in my body with Scalesy pestering me to lay down. Scalesy hissed and tried to constrict around Bill’s neck, wrapping his tail in between the cushions on the couch. Bill tucked and rolled, accidentally knocking the wind out of Scalesy and rendering him unconscious but not dead. Scalesy woke up, coiling and poising himself to strike. Bill grabbed a hook and pinned Scalesy down, then placed him in a terrarium that Ford had set up. He duct taped the lid on and poked air holes with a fork. He dusted off his hands. “Now that snake nanny has been taken care of.”

I tried to get the duct tape off of the terrarium, but I was tugged forward by a force towards my body. Bill grabbed Ford’s bottle of expensive vodka and started chugging it. He stopped mid sip and laughed. “Ahahaha!! This kid can’t handle their booze. Just a mere taste causes a burning in their mouth. This body rejects it!!! But little do they know that vodka completes me.” Bill managed to force it down and found the bottle of my pills on the counter. “Here we go. Trazadone. My favorite for knocking kids senseless.”

“What?”

“Why do you think you were prescribed this? It’s the easiest way to let me into your mind. Sixer is trying to titrate you off the stuff for his more ‘natural sleep remedies’ like cannabis and better sleep hygiene. Can’t have that when the CBD can heal your brain and cause you to make sense of what’s happening in a healthy way.” Bill downed fifty pills and stumbled around, scrambling on the floor. “Best of all, Sixer will think you lost your mind. You’ve tried this before and failed. Gonna make sure that doesn’t happen. Gotta head to the kitchen for a quickie sec.”

“Wait wait no!!!!”

“Aww. Does someone value their life too much? How about this? Your only reason for your pathetic existence was to serve me. And now that people are catching on, I better hide the evidence. Can’t have you healing. If it weren’t for that Cherub, you would have been disposed of earlier.”

“You mean—“

“That’s right. You weren’t just suddenly suicidal for no reason. That stupid mutt had to become a cherub and turn your life for the better after my meddling. I need you no longer. Can’t have you living and explaining my plans.” Bill stumbled into the elevator he managed to get open with a button. He managed to make it to the mystery shack gift shop before faceplanting onto the floor. A tall woman with short red hair wearing green flannel and a goth woman with red eyes and silver hair were conversing at the cash register about a party.

“Shit!! Ice bag and Moon Wolf.”

The two immediately turned to glare at Bill. They arched defensively. I scrambled to find something, anything to use for a vessel to tell them what happened. My eye finally caught the Minecraft fox plush on Bill’s back that I was sleeping with. I grabbed it, levitating it off the air.

“I’m so sorry about this, guys. I don’t know who you are, but my name’s Kenz. The one who Bill is possessing—“

The red haired woman threw the axe at the plush, causing it to cut in half.

“Wendy!!!”

“Shit.” Wendy rushed over to grab her axe and facepalmed as I scrambled to find my shiny Umbreon plush. “Luckily for the two of you, I sleep with more than one comfort plushie because I’m autistic as fuck and—“

“Shut the fuck up, Zie Zie!!!”

“Bill!!!”

“Loona.”

“Wendy, Loona. Welp. Now that we’re aquatinted, can you please—“

Bill chucked the plush I was possessing at the wall and stumbled up towards the kitchen. “Stay out of my way.”

“Is that vodka?”

“Just let me dispense of this body and I’ll deal with you later—“ Loona pinned Bill to the wall. “Wendy, call Ford while I hold them in place.”

Suddenly, “I Hope You Die In A Fire” by the Living Tombstone (which I was listening to before I went to sleep.) Started playing on Bluetooth on the mystery shack intercom. Ford yawned as he looked like he was fresh out of bed. He drank some coffee and noticed the situation.

“Let me go you mop with fangs!!! Emo and five nights at Freddy’s will never— Wait, I can’t say that. No no no no. I’m not letting myself stoop that low. Why does Zie Zie have to have such a great taste in music? Shit!!! How did Sixer plan this far in advance?”

Ford shook his head. “What do you mean? I didn’t plan for this at all.”

“Sure. Sure you didn’t. Kenz’s phone just happened to be connected to the Bluetooth playing a five nights at Freddy’s song—“

“If it were me, it wouldn’t be a five nights at Freddy’s song. It would have been—“

“Shit. I forgot you have the taste of a snail.”

Ford glared at Bill as if something snapped. “I HAVE TASTE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT? shit. can you write this down, Moon wolf? FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOUR COW!!! FUCK YOUR MOM LIKE A PIG!!! FUCK—“

“Are you done yet?” I then noticed Bill steal a knife from Loona’s pocket. “I got a stabby! You’ll be missing Zie Zie badly!! I just got a stabby!!!” It was at that moment that the drugs and alcohol had started to kick in. “Fahk…” He rolled his head back. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Loony… Loony Toony. Did you know that—“

“Get out of their body, you asshole!!!”

“Don’t you wanna fu—“

“NO!!! THERE WILL BE NO FUCKING!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BODY BEFORE I FIND OUT HOW TO RELEASE SCALESY!!!! THEN ITS ALL OVER FOR YOU, HOE!!!!”

Bill burst out laughing, but in a drunken giggle. He then stabbed himself in the shoulder over and over again, staining the floor scarlet before Loona took the knife away from him. “MY TOY!!!”

Wendy proceeded to tickle Bill. “Fahk!!!!!”

“Get out!!”

“Yeah!!!” Suddenly, I started to feel the effects of the drugs and alcohol. “No no no… I’m in sensory pain…”

“Haha!!! Weak!!!”

Ford joined in on the tickling as Bill tried to bite him, but ended up accidentally giving me my body back. “Augh… Oww. Okay. I’m back I’m back… You can stop. Please, get these drugs out of me.”

Ford breathed a sigh of relief as I started to throw up. Loona smiled as I gazed away from her. “Dude. That was incredible.”

“I didn’t do anything.” I leaned on Loona. “Yeah you did.”

“Name one thing that I did.”

“You warned us.”

“So?”

“You faced that fucker like it was just another Tuesday.” Loona was clearly impressed as Wendy burst out laughing. “Kid. You’re amazing!”

“I wasn’t brave or strong. I only spoke from a plushie.”

“But you didn’t give up. And you were brave. You just don’t want to admit it. I’d probably be scared shitless.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better. I can tell when someone isn’t being genuine. And as far as I can tell, no one ever is.” I bristled, stumbling over to the couch and passing out.

I woke up feeling batter after Ford had successfully delivered the antidote. “Thank god that shit show was over.” I turned around, sighing and shaking. Wendy and Loona exchanged concerned glances as Mabel handed me my Minecraft fox plush back. It was all sewn up like brand new. “Here you go.”

“You didn’t have to do that… I could’ve…” I sat there, flashing back to when my dad would berate me.

“Stop wasting your pocket money on stupid plushies.”

“But they make me so happy!!!”

“Grow the fuck up!!! You’re eighteen.”

“But it’s my money! I earned it with those straight A’s!! It’s my graduation money.”

“Hey, is everything okay?” Mabel’s words broke me out of the trance. I didn’t realize that I was flashing back. I held the Minecraft Fox plush close to me. “Yeah. I’m fine. I should probably head on home…”

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. Ford looked the most distraught. “What? Bill’s not gonna hurt them, right?”

“Even if he wasn’t, you can’t go back home.” Ford sighed. I stood up, inching towards the door. “What do you mean? Of course I can! I can… I can…”

“You can’t even make it past the town border.”

“Listen Mr. Know it all!!! I don’t know who you think you are and why do you think that just because your brother is an old family friend of my dad’s that you know what’s best for me. Because the last time I let that happen…” I flashed back to when I got out of the hospital back when I was ten and everything was taken out of my room due to the recommendation of my ABA therapist who happened to be a family friend.

She took everything from me. I held back the tears. My friends. My family. My relationships. All to try to make me normal. She wouldn’t let me be me. I bolted out the door. I can make it to the town border. I can do it!!!

“Quit laying on your ass and be a productive member of society.”

“The world does not revolve around you!!!”

“Nonbinary doesn’t exist. If I use your pronouns I will be setting you up for failure.”

“During the transition to independence, Kenz will allow their father to participate in all aspects of support, including, but not limited to medical, education, housing, and financial. The next steps towards this will be signing over power of attorney to my dad.”

“I will NOT engage in outbursts behavior or be disrespectful to my mom or dad while they adjust to using my preferred pronouns.”

“If I do not agree to or comply with the terms of this contract, other housing arrangements will be made through Tri Counties Regional Center (TCRC) and the state of California.”

The flashbacks echoed in my mind as I rushed over towards the edge of the town border. I took a few steps forward, only to be flung back by a brutal imaginary force. “Come on! Come on!! Come on!!!” I threw myself at the border over and over again, but kept getting flung back. I collapsed, exhausted beyond belief and the wind knocked out of me. “No!!!” I screamed, reaching towards the border. I tried once again to fling myself across it, only to be flung back again.

I heard Ford’s car pull up as I kept flinging myself across the border towards the setting sun. Mosquitoes started to bite my arms as I kept launching myself over and over again. Bruises formed on my arms and cuts were scraped on my knees.

“Kenz!!!”

I ignored Ford’s desperate plea as I kept launching myself in the air. Footsteps sounded as Loona and Wendy rushed up to me, grabbing me as I tried to get across. “JUST LET ME TRY ONE MORE TIME!!!”

Loona and Wendy shook their heads as I struggled against them, but was too exhausted to do it for too long. “Wh-why? Why won’t the border let me across? Am I dead? Is this hell?”

Ford shook his head as I fell limp on the ground, shaking and panting. Wendy and Loona backed off into the car to give Ford and I some space. “Kenz. Listen to me. You are trapped in Gravity Falls because of Gravity Falls’s natural law of weirdness magnetism.”

“But how does it let you across when you’re just as weird as me?” I shook, flinching away from Ford. “It’s because you’re… you’re… Fuck. I don’t know this for sure. But I have a hunch and it isn’t something you want to hear. But listen to me.”

“No. Listen to me!!!” I stood up, my knees buckling. “You may know how this town works and how everything is set in place but don’t you dare assume that you know me or anything I’ve been through. And don’t you think because you’re Mr smart guy that I’m gonna let you tell me what’s best for me, because I spent several months trying to undo the bat-shittery that my father and his little friends put me through. And I’m not having my progress be undone because of some sort of cosmic conspiracy that I didn’t ask to be a part of!!!”

“Be honest…” Tears filled my eyes. “Am I really too weird? Too weird to be around normal people? Am I just a mistake? Am I even human?” I turned around, trying to stifle the tears. Ford rubbed my shoulders, but I flinched away and tried to run.

“All anyone’s ever done was either leave or bring me trouble!!! How do I know that none of you will hurt me too? Am I just better off dead like Bill thinks?! Who am I anymore?!!!!!” I broke down, collapsing on the ground, the pain in my heart tearing itself in half. “Kenz. Look. It’s gonna be okay.”

“How do you know, Ford?”

“Because I’ve been in the exact same situation you were in. I know it seems like the world is against you and everywhere you turn is filled with people who hate you. But sometimes, it takes someone to help you out. Someone who refuses to leave your side and refuses to let you go.”

“Just who the fuck is that dependable?” I held my Minecraft fox plush tight to my chest. Ford smiled, rubbing my head. “There’s lots of people who care about you. Wendy and Loona drove with me out to the edge of town just to make sure you didn’t accidentally kill yourself trying to leave. They would have let you die if they cared any less. Kenz. Listen to me. I know what it’s like to be stripped of everyone you’ve trusted. I know what it’s like to be used, and it’s not fun. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I wiped the snot off my nose. “Kenz, let me tell you something. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for not giving up. For holding on so well for so long. You managed to keep Bill secret for far longer than I could ever have. I can tell by the way you shake when his name is mentioned that he’s been targeting you for years. You were put in an unfair situation as a kid, yet look at you. You’re forgiving, kind, empathetic beyond all means, and you have a sense of humor about it. You are smarter than a lot of people at your age, you know that? You managed to survive it all—“

“It was just dumb luck. I’m nothing, okay?” I shook as Ford reached out for a hug, causing me to flinch back. “I’m not brave just because I catch bugs and lizards and stuff, okay? I’m terrified of people. Terrified that they might hurt me. Terrified that they would leave me. Terrified that I have to leave them. Animals are different. They’re always around. They live such short lives that you’re a huge part of theirs whether you like it or not. They don’t like people leaving any more than I do. And too many humans take advantage of animals just like they take advantage of me!!!”

Ford nodded. “You’ve been taken advantage of too, eh?”

“Stop acting like you know what it’s like. Because you don’t. Okay? You don’t know what it’s like waking up in the middle of the night a shit ton of nights screaming your lungs out reliving every shitty hand you’ve dealt yourself. You don’t know what it’s like hearing the voice inside your own head that isn’t yours tell you things far beyond anyone’s darkest nightmares. You haven’t had things done to you that you wouldn’t wish on your worse enemy. That you can’t tell anyone that it happened because it was in your dreams and therefore, you’re crazy. You don’t know what it’s like, having everything taken from you from people who were supposed to help. Twice.” I stood defensively at the border. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with this bullshit routine of trying to help and trying to get me to heal like the rest of my dad’s shitty family friends. Because I’m not. Okay?” I sighed. “Just let me go. That way I won’t hurt anyone.”

Ford gazed at me, holding back the tears. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Kenz, have you been trying to heal from all of this shit for yourself, or just to prove to your father that you don’t need him?”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. “But I was doing everything right. Seeking out therapists. Reaching out to friends. And I would still be doing everything right—“

“But Bill—“

“I’ve had enough of Bill’s bullshit. ‘Kay? I’ve been trying to get that no good fucker to shut up for years. I’ve been ignoring him ever since I left that crisis home. And that was the closest I ever felt to free. Now I’m trapped in some sort of prison because I can’t get him out of my head. Everything I ever did led me to this point. I got myself into this hole. I can sure as fuck…” I bit my tongue. I don’t know that. I shook. “Look. How the fuck as I supposed to know you’re not like all the other family friends my dad has called forth. How do I know you’re not in contact with him right now?”

Ford sighed, sitting next to me. “I was in contact with him since before the Pandemic. That’s true. I wanted to come down and visit. But, shit happened. I wanted to tell Jacob that it was a shitty idea to pull you from school and not let you join band. Covid fucked a lot of shit up.” He sighed again. “I would’ve gone far as to fight him for custody because he was taking everything out of your room. He bragged about that shit a lot. He told me how you were a brat who refused to grow up. He said that you were ungrateful after he ‘fought so hard for you.’ But you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“I saw a man who was only presenting himself as a father as an accessory. He wanted you as a trophy. As inspiration. He thought being a special needs parent meant that you had no autonomy of your own. And he only sought those out who thought the same. Stanley told me about UCLA and what happened with your mother. He was shocked to hear that you were hospitalized three times.”

I sniffed, holding back more tears. “My point is, none of that would have happened if your dad accepted your autism diagnosis back when you were three as something that was a minority like being trans. He didn’t even see that you were struggling with gender dysphoria as early as age nine.”

“And how the fuck do you know that?” I bristled up, which Ford was unfazed by. “I spoke with Ann a lot when you were in a coma. I also spoke with Stanley. He visited a lot back then, and knew from the way you didn’t hang out with a lot of the girls at your school. You never had dolls and other girl stuff. You played Minecraft a lot—“

“Lots of tomboys get into video games. I was never sporty, okay? And I still watched frozen and tangled when I was younger—“

“Be honest with yourself. Did you ever really see yourself in those princesses, or did you really just say that just to appease people.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not denying that I’m trans neutral. Okay? I just don’t understand why you think it’s okay to involve yourself in my business so much. And don’t say some mushy shit like you care, or you see yourself in me… or…” It was at this point I broke down. “Fuck. I’m sorry…”

“Kenz. Don’t apologize.”

“But all the things I said—“

“Were valid. I know you’re scared to trust again. I was too.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?” I gazed into his ice blue eyes hopefully. “Promise me whatever happens that you don’t leave like everyone else. That you don’t hurt me like everyone else and tell me it’s all my doing. The second you break this promise, you’ll wish you hadn’t. You’ll never hear or see from me again. No one will. I’ve already lost everything enough times.”

Ford tensed up, but nodded. He must notice how hurt I am. I backed away, cornered by the town border. Ford held out his hand and smiled. “I promise. Just please trust me.”

I shook one more time before nodding, following Ford to the back seat of his car. “Okay.”

[kingfishered]

“Don’ worry about it, dear, I’m sure I can find it in ma heart tae forgive ye,” Elsie waved off Ghost’s worries with a kind smile and a gentle laugh. As if she was going to blame him for something like that, honestly. She might have continued a conversation with him if Lorna hadn’t jumped in with the teasing, but she was distracted by the need to mediate whatever was likely about to go down between her kids. She was determined to find out more about this man her son had apparently fallen for, though. He was a little too English for her tastes, a displeasure she’d already voiced to John, but so far he seemed polite enough despite it.

Johnny’s embarrassment didn’t die with Simon’s tease about his nickname, purely because it was true and now Simon knew it - he was truly the only one Johnny allowed to use that name. He hoped knowing it wouldn’t put Simon off, because hearing any other name from him would just feel odd now.

Beth felt eyes on her, glancing over to Ghost just in time to see him turn his gaze away, back onto John. Rather than appearing unsettled about this, however, she found herself briefly regarding him with curiosity before she returned to the conversation. It seemed all the MacTavishes possessed that distinct lack of fear that John did - whether it was from bravery or stupidity was still yet to be determined. She wondered what he’d been thinking. Or, perhaps it had just been the painkillers. He did have a notably vacant look in his eyes, she had spotted.

The MacTavishes had heard a lot about Ghost, yet somehow through all John’s talk they didn’t actually… know a lot about him. He managed to rattle on about the man, who everyone had figured out he had feelings for pretty quickly, for ages without ever giving away anything personal about him. They didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake. Mostly, they were subjected to stories about things Ghost had said or done, anecdotes and rambles about aspects of the man that John admired or adored. But never anything below surface level. John always made sure of it.

Elsie’s teasing smile dropped as Ghost said it, that it was his fault her John had got hurt. But he continued to say that it was because John had gone back in, **which to her sounded like it hadn’t been Ghost’s fault at all, **rather her own son’s idiotic, heroic tendencies.

Johnny recognised the guilt in Simon’s expression, could maybe even see insecurity behind his words. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to suddenly spring meeting his family on Simon while he was in this state, he could only imagine how stressed the man must be.

“Aye, bu’ who’s fault was it the buildin’ went down in the first place?” Johnny reminded him, trying to soothe some of his guilt. Johnny blamed himself for what had happened but knew if he voiced this Simon would shoot it down immediately. It was clear that it was also the same vice versa. If they could share the burden, it might make it a lot easier for the both of them.

What Johnny said, however, seemed to be Elsie’s last straw.

“John Laith MacTavish,” she spoke, dangerously calm, and Johnny felt his heart sink at the use of the full name. There was a lecture incoming- “If I’m understanding this situation correctly, you brought down a building then went back inside, yes?”

“Yes,” Johnny confirmed, already sounding defeated.

“An’ why on Earth would you think that’s a good idea?! Are ye aff yer heid? Anyone wit’ even a shred of common sense can see how stupid tha’ is! Really, I dinnae ken how ye made it this far in life if tha’s the kinda decision yer makin’ oot there! Ye could have died!”

“An’ if I didn’ go back in, S- Ghost would’a died!” Johnny corrected himself, even if he was mid-retort, because he had no idea if Simon wanted them knowing his name, “If he had an’ I’d done nothin’, wha’ then? His blood would have been on my hands, I wouldnae have even tried tae help! Ye think I could- live with myself, after that?”

Johnny’s voice broke towards the end, and to his horror he realised there were tears in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, pressing his good hand over his face, wishing the mattress would swallow him up then and there. This was very much a group of people he didn’t want to cry in front of - then again, any group of people was. It seemed he didn’t have a choice, though, because once the tears started they didn’t want to stop.

He just felt awful about the entire thing. Even though everyone had been telling him not to blame himself, including himself, it was impossible. No one could deny that he had been the one to set off those charges while Simon was still in the building, because it was true. Had he not gone back into that building and had Simon died in there, it would have been his fault.

He would have been the one to kill Simon.

For a while when they were trapped in there, he thought he had. That thought would haunt him for the rest of his life. The memory of seeing Simon bleeding out, unable to do anything but watch.

Elsie’s exasperation was gone the instant she saw his tears, and within moments she was pulling him as gently as she could into a hug. At first he seemed reluctant, but it didn’t take him long to melt in his mother’s arms, turning to press his head against her shoulder. He felt like a bit of an idiot: a 26 year old man, a soldier no less, crying in his mother’s arms. But right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Seeing Johnny look so in love, and then to see his sisters also seeing that look and proceed to tease him among themselves…

It all felt so sickeningly domestic. He’d take walking into the line of fire over this any day, at least before he’d met Johnny. Now? Well, he was feeling nauseous anyway from the pain medication. What harm could a little more do if Johnny was there with him? He’d manage.

Simon offered a smile and a calm response, though he was feeling anything but. “I’d appreciate th’chance, Ms.MacTavish. Like to be able to make a good impression on you all, too, but…” He trailed off, pointing idly to the thick bandages that were covering one side of his head. He didn’t really think he needed to say anything else on that, they spoke for themselves.

It was odd, though, hearing that Johnny apparently hated the nickname, well, Johnny. But every time that it came from his mouth, Simon swore the Scot could light up the room with the smile he wore on his face.

He hated it, just not from him.

Simon found himself unable to let that lie. “Special just for me, ey?” he teased lightly, though it was clearly an attempt at turning the situation from one of embarrassment for Johnny into something much sweeter. The realisation made Simon feel like he was wrapped in a warm, fluffy blanket as opposed to Price’s heavy, smoky-smelling coat. If it was still embarrassing for him, Simon would just have to blame his unintentionally dry delivery of the line. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t figure out what emotions he needed to use in his voice when he was stressed.

His sisters had laughed anyway, unfortunately for Johnny it did seem to be at his expense, and as the conversation continued, Simon found his gaze lingering on Johnny’s other sister a little longer, Beth. Then, worried that the watching would unnerve her—he wasn’t exactly the most soft-looking person on the planet, or even in the fucking building–he blinked and cast his gaze back to Johnny.

She looked a bit like her. She looked a bit like Tommy’s Beth.

Through all of his pondering and the sickening realisation that he might not actually be able to do this at all, Simon had missed the next chunk of the conversation, only zoning back in after Johnny’s mother had scolded them all.

It was odd, hearing that they wanted to make a good impression on him. He couldn’t figure out why. They didn’t know that he and Johnny had spent the better part of two hours cuddling on a single bed, nor that even before that he’d been trying to devour each other's faces and touch as much skin as they could.

So… was that what Johnny had told them about him? That he fancied him? That was these strangers’ first introduction to him?

Simon felt his face flush and he shifted a little where he was sitting, Price’s coat finally slipping down from his broad shoulders and falling into his lap.

Well, while it was already going downhill…

“Afraid I do have to apologise,” he began, trying to school his voice back into professional legibility. “Johnny only got hurt because of me, he came back to help me when he didn’t have to. I just… thought you should know. Your son saved my life, Ms.MacTavish. If he hadn’t come back for me, I’d be dead.”

It was blunt, and Simon struggled to make eye contact with anyone other than Johnny after speaking, but he managed to get it out. Johnny had saved his life, though not just back in that building.

But, now it was time for Simon to have somehow already managed to push Johnny’s family away as far as he could get them. Really, what response did he expect after telling a mother he nearly got her son killed?

He realised that was maybe why he’d admitted it. He’d already thought once that he couldn’t do this and now, without even noticing, his brain had started devising a plot to get him out of the situation.

It’ll just take time, he promised himself silently, keeping his jaw clenched shut tightly so he didn’t fuck anything else up.